46. A Final Stand
A Final Stand
Fintan
Fintan’s heart thundered with his footsteps. Byron and all the members of the council had been called into the throne room. He had found Kaiden and Cahira finishing off the king’s guard in the council halls.
“The throne room,” he yelled to them as he passed, not bothering to slow down.
He ran, leading the trio through the bloodied hallways and corridors which twisted through the palace. They approached the wide double doors to the throne room. He prayed to any god who would hear him to keep his father safe.
Kaiden slowed, grabbing at his shoulder. “Wait, listen.”
They willed their breathing to a slow pace, steadying their heartbeats.
“I don’t hear anything,” Fintan said.
“That’s the point,” Cahira whispered. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“Or what we’re not walking into,” Fintan said.
“Either way we have to take every possible precaution to —”
“Cahira. My father was last seen in the throne room with the king. I’m going in and we don’t have time to waste.”
“Fintan you’re not thinking straight, anything could happen behind those doors,” Cahira looked at Kaiden for help.
“Of course we’re going in, but if he is with our father … prepare yourself for anything,” Kaiden said.
Fintan nodded. Hardly hearing what was said.
Adrenaline coursed through his body and his only thought rested on his father’s safety.
He blew out a breath and pushed the doors wide with both hands.
The throne room was dark, no braziers lit the room, and windows were closed and boarded.
It took seconds to adjust to the dimness and when his eyes found figures standing in front of him, his heart stopped.
The king sat on the obsidian throne surrounded by soldiers. Byron was pressed to the floor on his knees. Soldiers on either side pointed swords in an X underneath his neck.
“Right on time.” The king was draped in onyx robes and sat relaxed in his throne, getting comfortable as if he was about to be entertained.
“Your arrival took longer than expected.” His gaze traveled from Kaiden and Cahira to him.
He stiffened and his hands gripped the armrests.
“Where is she?” His voice was low with displeasure.
“Where is who?” Cahira spat.
The king tilted his head. “Where is Aradia Damali?”
“You will never have her,” Kaiden growled.
The king smiled as he observed Kaiden tighten the hold on his sword.
A subtle shift drew Fintan’s attention back to his father. “What is this?” Fintan’s voice shook with barely contained fear.
“Isn’t it obvious?” The king frowned. “You’ve all come to die.”
“It’s not too late to stop this,” Kaiden said. “You’ve been poisoned by the Ring of Kings. Take it off, Father, please.”
The king said nothing as he stared at his son. His eyes traced Kaiden from head to toe. A look of disappointment wrinkling his nose like the smell of their desperation insulted him.
“I thought I had brought you up strong, boy.”
Cahira flexed her arm, wielding her sword and not daring to drop the king’s gaze. “Don’t pretend like you had a hand in raising us.” She rocked sideways, preparing to fight.
The king stood in a sweeping motion. His power radiated off the throne and swam through the room, wrapping them in his pulsating heat.
Regardless of the king’s magic, Fintan’s skin pebbled with fear, the hair on his arms standing straight, and his quaking bones filled with dread.
“Perhaps I’ve made you more like me than my own son.” The smile gracing the king’s face had not an ounce of love or pride within it, only malice.
“Let my father go,” Fintan said. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
A low chuckle sounded and Fintan watched Kaiden and Cahira stiffen next to him. They had all heard that chuckle before.
Fintan barely breathed. His heart slowed, gaze never leaving his father. Byron smiled at his son, no regrets shone in his eyes.
The king sighed, looked out amongst his children and then dragged his eyes to Fintan. A sinister shadow twisted across his face.
“Your betrayal, old friend.” The king leaned next down to Byron’s ear. His soft words filled the silent room. “Is disappointing but not surprising.”
A quick twist. The king snapped Byron’s neck with a sickening crack Fintan felt in the depths of his soul.
Byron’s body dropped, lifeless, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
Blood rushed to Fintan’s head and he swayed, vision blurring. Cahira and Kaiden’s gasp was drowned out by the humming in his ears.
“No!” Fintan screamed, running to the king with his sword drawn.
He would kill him. He would kill them all. The first three soldiers went down with ease. Shock fueled his blood, speeding his strikes. He barely felt Kaiden and Cahira at his side, slashing through soldiers, as they neared the throne.
The king chuckled, unfazed at their close proximity. Fintan’s heart brimmed with hatred and he locked eyes with the monster standing upon the dais.
The king snapped his fingers. The doors opened, filling the room with more soldiers who barricaded around him.
Fintan was jerked back by a tug from Kaiden.
“Stop.” Kaiden stepped in front of him, showing the number of soldiers entering.
Fintan had barely enough restraint to reassess their situation. There was no way in Moliath’s depths he was letting the king walk away from murdering his father in cold blood. The bastard was going to pay with his life.
“I would love to stay and watch you gallantly fight my soldiers, especially you, young Fintan, so much to live up to.” He nudged his father’s lifeless body, sending Byron rolling down the steps of the dais. “And such big shoes to fill.”
Fintan lunged but Kaiden’s grip held him.
The king smiled.
“You will die for this! He was your most loyal friend! A brother to you!” Fintan spat in the king’s direction.
“If he was loyal, he would still be alive.” The king cocked his head to the side, assessing Fintan. “I did not enjoy being the one to kill him.”
“Liar!” Cahira’s tears streamed down her face.
The king rolled his eyes, tiring of the conversation. “Be that as it may, I no longer have time to be entertained by you three. I have a priestess to kill and god to merge with. Finish them.” He snapped his finger once more, turning around, and walking into the shadows behind the throne.
Men rushed them, the same soldiers they had spent hours, years training into killers.
They now turned on them, heeding their king’s demands.
It cut deeper than Fintan thought it would, but his eyes dropped to his father’s body and power erupted from his hands.
They were a clash of steel, fire, and lightning slicing through their enemies.
Fintan’s sword wedged between a soldier's armor, piercing the flesh behind.
He sent the man tumbling to the ground with a jerk and yanked his sword free. In one swift motion, he sliced the soldier's head clean off his shoulders.
“We have to go after him,” Cahira shouted above the clang of swords and gurgles of death.
“Go!” Fintan shouted. “I can finish the rest.”
Seven men circled Fintan as the siblings made their way around the throne and into the shadows.
“You’ve come to die, Fintan,” one soldier said against his helmet.
Fintan whirled his sword in a circle, flexing his wrists. Lightning sparked and danced down his blade. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried for a thousand years.”
The men lunged all at once.
He breathed in and began his dance of death. Dodging this way and that. Soldiers went down one at a time, slowly. He lunged at a soldier to his right. A soldier to his left drew his sword across Fintan’s left hamstring.
“Depths!” He lost balance and toppled to the ground.
He clutched a soldier’s dropped shield to protect him. His body lurched at the hard kick in the back. A soldier stomped on his wound and Fintan howled in pain. They struck wherever they could reach, as he swung his sword wildly. Taunting laughter filled the air at their closing victory.
A steel-toed boot smashed into his jaw, and two molars shot out of his bloody mouth.
Stars danced behind his eyes as he closed them in pain.
His head spun and he caught a glimpse of his father’s body.
Tears swam in his eyes. Pain numbed his brain and he let loose a scream from his broken heart, releasing magic in a web of lightning.
Light blasted through the room and into the soldiers, frying them where they stood.
Fintan wailed in agony as he rolled to the side and crawled to his father’s limp form.
“Father, no, no, no.”
The crushing pain of his loss flooded him as he rocked back and forth. His sobs burned his throat and he gasped for air. His whole life crumbled around him. The walls cracked and shook with the rift opening outside the city walls.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Tears dripped down his face, splattering on his father’s skin.
He deserved better. He deserved peace. He was to be buried in the family crypt, not here. Not before his time.
The crackling ache in his heart hardened until he thought it would shatter into a million pieces.
He could feel himself turning to the darkness he kept at bay but had no power to stop it.
Nor did he have a desire to stop it. He rested his father’s head and placed his hands across his chest in a peaceful position.
He dragged the long Arkan flag from a pole and draped it across his body.
It was the best he could do at the moment.
He would mourn him for years and celebrate his life if they even survived this.
Fintan scrambled about the room, wrapping shredded banners around his wounded leg in hopes to clot the bleeding. He stood flexing his hamstring. The movement brought blood which seeped through his bandage. The pain made him sway on his feet and vision blur.
He took a deep breath.
“I will avenge you father,” he whispered. “I will bring glory to your name.” He slipped his father’s ring off his finger and onto his right hand. The golden magic swirling inside, slowed before it vanished with the life of the one who wielded it.
Fintan closed his eyes, promising when he opened them he would leave his sorrow in this room.
He opened the red door in his mind and felt his power surge through him.
Hatred would fuel him, vengeance would be his right hand and he would not stop until the king’s blood pooled at his feet, requiting his father’s murder.