Chapter 9
Old Friends
A gasp.
Stuffy air.
Inside.
Right.
The chamber was dark. The only real source of light came from a fire burning in an iron brazier off to the side of the room.
The room was damp.
Stone.
Cold seeping through everything.
Some forgotten chamber deep inside the castle.
Probably still in Crown’s Reach.
Aldric’s eyes adjusted slowly.
His gaze settled on the other figure in the room.
A massive silhouette.
Broad shoulders.
Short, neatly trimmed hair. Pale, almost white.
An angular jaw.
The man in red armor moved slowly.
Almost lazily.
He was tending the fire.
Aldric realized he was tied to a stone beam in the center of the chamber, his back pressed against it, wrists bound behind him with thick rope.
He tested the bindings.
Tight.
He glanced around.
They were alone.
The Inquisitor finally turned toward him.
“Why did you come back?”
Aldric forced a smile despite the rope biting into his wrists.
“Would you prefer the long version or the short one?”
The man in red didn’t react.
He pushed another iron rod deeper into the coals.
“?thal’en Aurel.”
The fire answered the words, rising higher as the flames shifted to an eerie blue-green.
“It feels almost too easy that we caught you this quickly,” he said calmly, almost as if speaking to himself.
“We have plenty of time… and even more ways of making you talk. You will tell me everything eventually. I would simply prefer to finish this before the rite begins claiming your body.” He glanced over his shoulder.
“Otherwise I may have to mercy-kill you.”A pause.
“Although in the case of a heretic… cleansing through fire is usually sufficient.”
Aldric laughed.
“The Ulric I remember wouldn’t bother with any of this Rite of Cendaris nonsense.” He tilted his head. “Steel through the heart. Burn the body. Scatter the ashes. Move on.” His smile sharpened. “What changed? Did service in the Inquisitoris soften you that much?”
The man in red turned fully toward him.
Green eyes studied Aldric carefully.
A faint smile appeared.
“I have to admit… I did miss this.” He stepped closer. “You always had a talent for laughing in the face of immediate death.”
Ulric sighed.
“But I still need to know why you’re here…”
Aldric met his gaze.
“I came here by my own will. I’m not here to harm anyone.”
Ulric snorted.
“Lies.” He crossed his arms. “You are the most wanted man in the realm. You would not be stupid enough to get captured without an agenda, without serving the enemy.”
Aldric shrugged as much as the ropes allowed.
“I need to get into the Citadel.”
Ulric stared at him.
Then slowly blinked.
For a moment there was only silence.
Then he laughed.
A sharp, barking sound, almost like a wolf.
He grabbed a chair and dragged it across the stone floor.
With a swift motion he placed it directly in front of Aldric.
Then he sat.
“I did not expect that answer.” He leaned forward slightly. “Once the rods are ready, the Rite will begin. You will tell me the truth.” His smile widened. “No matter what little game you think you are playing.”
Aldric smiled back.
“I’m not lying.” His voice was calm, though a trace of pain slipped through. “I have nothing more to lose.”
Ulric’s green eyes flickered with amusement.
“You believe that. I almost admire it.” His gaze settled on the brand burned into Aldric’s shoulder. “Corrupted or not… the Rite does not care what you think you have left. It asks what your soul refuses to surrender.”
Ulric sighed and got up.
Then turned back to the fire.
He pulled two iron rods from the coals.
They glowed a deep, angry red.
“Get comfortable,” he said casually. “Or don’t. I don’t care.”
Aldric held his gaze.
Those green eyes stared back at him.
There was no mercy in them.
When the first rod touched his chest, Aldric nearly passed out.
The second joined it a moment later, pressed against the other side of his chest.
For a heartbeat he forgot how to breathe.
Ulric dropped to one knee in front of him.
He began whispering the incantation.
The chamber stilled.
His eyes rolled back.
White.
A halo formed behind his head.
Not light.
Something stranger.
A distortion in the air.
Reality bending.
The little heat that filled the chamber suddenly vanished.
In its place—
cold.
Aldric felt invisible hands slowly grip his shoulders from the back.
His head.
Forcing him upright.
Holding him still.
Calm.
Heavy.
“Why did you return to Isendor, Oathbreaker?”
Aldric exhaled slowly.
His soul felt exposed.
Opened.
“To finish the brand.”
“Why?”
“Because without it… I cannot be with the one I love, with my Rae.”
The rite ended abruptly.
Both men staggered.
Breathing hard.
Ulric stared at him.
Disbelief flickered across his face.
“You—”
Aldric laughed weakly.
“I told you.” He lifted his head slightly. “I have nothing left to lose.”
Ulric shook his head slowly.
“But… how is this possible?” His voice was almost a whisper. “Your intention… it’s pure.”
Aldric smiled faintly.
“You’re surprised a pure emotion can exist between a man and a succubus?”
Ulric’s jaw tightened.
“That’s impossible. Demons corrupt the soul—”
“And yet you looked directly into mine,” Aldric interrupted calmly, “and saw that my only desire is to be with her.”
Ulric stood.
For a moment doubt flickered across his face.
Aldric noticed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. “The rite meant to expose my true intentions didn’t give you the answer you wanted?”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Aldric tilted his head slightly.
“I’m curious. How many demon branded men have ever undergone that ritual?”
Ulric frowned.
“The only men who undergo the Rite of Cendaris are soon to be members of the Order or the Inquisitoris.”
Aldric raised an eyebrow.
“So… men already deemed pure.” A pause. “And what about those who were known had contact with a succubus?”
Ulric looked away for a moment.
“They were executed immediately. No questions asked.”
Aldric clicked his tongue softly.
“Ah.” He leaned his head slightly against the post. “A classic approach. Stab first. Never ask why.”
Silence settled over the chamber.
Then Aldric added softly:
“The world is bigger than the Holy Order, brother.”
Ulric’s attention snapped back to him.
“Do not call me that—You stopped being that the moment you sided with the enemy.”
Aldric sighed.
As if they were arguing politics over ale in some tavern.
“The world isn’t black and white, Ulric. There’s more nuance than you think. The Order deliberately keeps the narrative rigid. You saw my soul yourself. You know I’m telling the truth.”
Ulric scoffed.
“What next, heretic? You’ll suggest I find myself a demon whore as well?”
Aldric made a small clicking sound with his tongue.
“Well, when you put it like that, it makes them sound terrible,” he said lightly. “But they’re actually quite loyal.” A faint smirk touched his lips. “And insatiable… if you find the right one.”
Ulric’s teeth clenched.
“Over my dead body.”
Aldric didn’t push further.
Instead he glanced around the chamber.
“So what happens now?”
Ulric was already moving, stamping out the fire.
“Now we ride.”
“To?”
“To Sanctum Aurelion.” Ulric glanced over his shoulder. “Your old comrades will be very pleased to see you again.”
Aldric sighed.
“I really didn’t want to do this, but…”
Ulric stopped.
“But?”
Aldric tilted his head slightly.
“What if I told you… that the thing on my shoulder can lift the Endless Fog?”
Ulric froze.
Without a word, he grabbed one of the still-glowing rods and pressed it against Aldric’s chest.
Pain exploded through him.
The incantation began again.
“How?”
Aldric clenched his teeth.
“I have to get to the Citadel.”
Ulric’s gaze hardened.
“How will you lift the Endless Fog, Oathbreaker?”
“I need to step into the Well of Light.”
Ulric’s jaw tightened.
His will pressed forward against Aldric’s mind through the Rite.
“What is this Well of Light you speak of?”
Aldric exhaled slowly.
“You know it by a different name.” A brief pause. “The Cleansing Light.”
The ritual stopped.
Abruptly.
Again.
Shock crossed Ulric’s face.
“You—you have—”
The words caught in his throat.
Aldric was breathing heavily now, chest rising and falling.
But he saw the emotion.
Fear.
“I have what?” Aldric rasped. “No idea what’s waiting for me?” He gave a tired smile. “That’s why I hoped they’d send you after me. So I could actually talk to someone before they burn me alive.”
Ulric cursed quietly under his breath.
“If it’s even possible… lifting that cursed fog…”
His voice drifted.
Aldric nodded slightly.
“Ah. I see you’re already thinking about what comes after.” He tilted his head. “Endless battles. Roaming free. Killing as many demons as you’d like. For an open war Isendor would definitely use Inquisitors.”
Ulric’s expression hardened.
“No outsider has ever managed to break into the Citadel.” A pause. “Many tried.”
Aldric kept watching him.
“Believe me, I wish there was another way. I’m not exactly excited about what’s waiting for me.”
Ulric shook his head and cursed under his breath.
Aldric raised an eyebrow.
“So… is the plan still to take me to the capital?”
Ulric didn’t answer.
He turned away and began packing the instruments scattered around the chamber.
Flasks.
Cloths.
Iron tools.
Then he spoke loudly.
“Sergeant!”
A man clad in rugged armor stepped into the room.
Big mustache. Tired eyes.
“Yes, sir?”
“Prepare my horses. We leave at dawn.”
The man nodded once and stepped back out.
Ulric returned to packing.
Aldric watched him.
“Do you mind untying me?” he asked. “I haven’t eaten in ages.”
Ulric sighed.
Then stepped forward.
He grabbed Aldric by the jaw and forced a vial between his lips.
Bitter liquid flooded his mouth.
Ulric tilted Aldric’s head back until he swallowed.
Then stepped aside.
Aldric blinked.
“Not fair—”
His vision blurred instantly.
His limbs went slack.
Darkness swallowed him.
? ? ?
He woke to a slight rocking.
The sound of hooves.
Gravel crunching beneath iron shoes.
Wind whispering through leaves.
Forest?
He opened his eyes.
The world was washed in an orange hue.
Sunset.
He must have been out the whole day.
His head throbbed.