The Source (Creasan #1)
Chapter 19

The Forbidden Mountain loomed above them, enormous and daunting, disappearing above the clouds in the sky. The wind whistled sharply in their ears and snow swirled around them. Thea’s cheeks stung with cold and her breath fogged up in front of her as she craned her head to take in the mountain they were meant to scale. It looked impossible. Thea wasn’t a bad climber but she wasn’t exceptional either. How on earth were they meant to reach the top of that?

Merek said, “Right, so what are we thinking? Ten minutes tops?”

Isolde grinned. “Bet I can do it in five.”

Carac said, “Two.”

“I’m already at the top,” Brom put in.

Thea stepped up to the base. “Okay, do we have enough food?”

“Check,” Peronell answered.

“Water?”

“Got it.” Fendrel hitched the straps of his pack higher, his eyes blank and staring straight ahead. Last night, after those words had left his lips, Fendrel had simply gotten up and strode away from Thea. She hadn’t known where he’d gone or what he’d done, but when she’d awoken the next morning, he hadn’t said a word to anyone or even looked at her. It had taken them at least a few more hours of hiking to reach the mountain, and those had been the first words he’d said all day.

Thea watched him carefully. Since they’d met, she’d wanted nothing more than for him to finally admit what she already knew. What she was sure he must’ve known, too. But the way he was behaving today…Something had changed dramatically within him. There were no smiles, no jokes shared with Merek, no teasing at her expense. There was nothing at all.

The rest of the group hadn’t seemed to notice yet.

“Alcohol, too,” Merek proclaimed proudly.

“Plenty of furs for all of us.” Thea surveyed the group. “Weapons?”

Isolde looked everyone over and saw their swords and daggers secured in place. “We got them, Thea.”

Thea drew a deep breath. She’d have to put any and all thoughts of Fendrel out of her mind for the time being. What they were about to do was so much more important. “All right,” she began. “This is the last leg. We don’t know what the conditions are like up there, but we can assume visibility is low, so trust is going to be imperative. We have to stick together. Tie this around your waists,” she said as she passed around a long piece of rope. “If you ever lose sight of the group, yank on the rope. We’ll feel you and stop to replace you.”

Fendrel tied himself in first, then Isolde, Merek, Carac, Peronell, and Brom bringing up the rear.

Thea gazed up at the massive piece of land again. This was the last thing her father had done before he’d disappeared. This was the trip that—for all intents and purposes—had ended his life. But this would also be the trip that saved countless lives. She stilled her slightly shaking hands against her sides and nodded. “It’s going to be difficult,” she told them honestly. “But at the top of this mountain is the creator of our entire society, the one we pray to every day, the one who can make Creasan feel like home again. We have the strength, we have the resources, we have each other.” She looked at each of her friends in turn, doing her best to ignore the fact that Fendrel did not make eye contact. “We can do this.”

They nodded in agreement, smiles of excitement and nervousness on their faces.

“Okay,” Thea breathed, turning back to the mountain. “Let’s go.”

Favian hurried through the halls of the palace with his eyes wide open, scouring every corner, every crevice, every nook for a sight of the man he was sure was haunting his castle. He could hear him. He must be close.

“Just give up, old man. Just let it go.”

“I will never!” Favian hissed. “I will not accept defeat.”

“I’ve already won. You have no idea what I’ll—“

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” The king covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, falling against the wall. The sides of his head throbbed, and when he pulled his hands away from his ears, there was blood on them. Brows furrowing, he reached up to his ears again and felt the slickness of blood running out. His hands trembled as he stared at his crimson covered fingers. He was getting worse.

Favian looked up. One of the Guards posted throughout the palace was staring back at him. Even with the visor covering his face, the king could tell the Guard was unsure whether or not to help his king. Favian would make it easy for him. “What are you staring at?” he yelled at him.

Immediately, the Guard stood at attention, fixing his gaze straight ahead.

Favian lurched away from the wall and hurried further into the palace, doing his best to ignore the words swirling through his head. He had been foolish to hope his wife had been faithful. He had been foolish to think she was anything other than the harlot he knew her to be. He would not be made a fool of again.

He descended into the darkness of the castle, where the daylight couldn’t reach. Down, into the dismal, dank dungeon.

There was one torch lit down there, at the very end of the prison, providing just enough light to give silhouettes to shapes, but not enough to actually illuminate anything at all.

In the very first cell, Ulric sat with his back to the wall. He looked different from the knight Favian had chosen to tutor his son. Less muscular. Less assured. His cheeks had begun to sink in, his eyes held bags under them, his skin was incredibly pale.

Favian unlocked the cell, and Ulric barely even lifted his head. The king kicked the soldier’s foot. Again, there was no reaction. Favian chuckled and crouched. “So you are the man my wife chose over me.” He tsked as he took him in. “Look at you. You are no one’s soldier. You are a pathetic excuse of a human being. Not even good enough for the dogs.” An idea occurred to Favian and he cocked his head to the side with a grin. “But the ogres on the other hand…”

At this, Ulric did look up. He was breathing hard and it seemed like the movement took a lot out of him. “I am sorry, Your Majesty,” he breathed.

“An apology is not good enough.”

“I am sorry you are unwell,” he continued, locking his reddish-brown eyes with the king’s. They felt as if they were searing into Favian. “I am sorry you are suffering as you are. That you feel the whole world is against you. That you must forge your way on your own.” Ulric’s chains rattled as he pushed himself to his knees. Slowly, he crawled towards the king. His chains pulled taut as they came within an inch of each other. The dim light curved his face into a gargoyle’s. “But most of all,” he whispered, “I am sorry your wife does not love you.”

Favian’s hand whipped up to clutch Ulric’s throat.

The Guard hardly even flinched. In fact, he smiled.

“You shut it, you little maggot.”

“I am sorry you are not enough to please her.”

“I said, shut it.” He throttled Ulric.

Ulric choked, veins bulging all over his face, but the smile didn’t leave. “I am sorry,” he wheezed through the grip of Favian’s hands, “you could not make her happy.”

Favian stood, dragging Ulric with him.

Ulric stood easily. The men were the same height, so Ulric looked him dead in the eyes as he said, “I am sorry she chose another.”

The king’s face twitched, his nose crinkling and lips stretching. He bared his teeth at the younger man and said, “You are coming with me, maggot.” Then he grinned, a manic grin. “We’ve a show to perform for your beloved.”

Isolde pulled herself up another few inches, her fingers cramping so painfully she thought she’d freeze there. The wind hissed viciously around her, spinning upwards then down, side to side. It was like she was stuck in a whirlpool that couldn’t make up its mind. Within the darkness of the blizzard, she wasn’t sure how long they’d been at it. It felt like an everlasting night, a gray darkness surrounding them every which way they looked.

Merek climbed up beside her and offered a flimsy smile. His face was nearly as red as a tomato and snow clung to his face. Isolde couldn’t hear it, but she could see his teeth chattering. “We have to keep going,” he shouted. Even though they weren’t very far away from each other, the wind was doing its very best to swallow their words before they ever left their mouths.

“We need to rest,” she shouted back.

“First chance we get,” Merek promised. “Haven’t seen many places to do that just yet.”

Thea glanced below her at the two of them. She yanked on her rope to get their attention. “Is everyone all right?”

Isolde gave her a thumbs up. She was so out of breath she didn’t think she could muster the energy to yell up to her.

“Keep going!” Carac called up from just below them. “I think there’s a cave up ahead. We can stop there.”

“What did he say?” Thea asked Isolde.

Merek mercifully answered for her. “Cave. Just a little further.”

Thea nodded and began climbing again.

He looked to Isolde. “Can you keep going?”

Did she have a choice? She nodded at him and forced herself to reach for the next ledge and hoist herself up.

Every muscle in her body, every joint, every puny blood vessel ached with each step she took. She’d known it was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done. She wasn’t stupid enough to dismiss Thea’s warning. But she hadn’t realized, until she’d felt the wind eating at her flesh, just how horrible it was going to be.

Longer still they climbed until eventually Isolde heard Thea yell, “I see the cave!”

Praise Aestus, Isolde thought and pushed her quivering limbs to bring her to that refuge.

Thea and Fendrel were already waiting inside when Isolde fell in. She laid on her back, panting hard. Her arms and legs rested uselessly beside her and she wasn’t sure how she was going to be able to do this again tomorrow.

Merek tumbled in after her, then Carac and Peronell, and then Brom.

They all just sat there for a moment, catching their breath and waiting for their muscles to work again.

Brom was the one to replace his voice first. “Is everyone all right?”

“Never been better,” Merek breathed from where he had collapsed beside Isolde.

“Carac and I are good,” Peronell assured. Him and Carac held on to each other, rubbing furiously at their arms to try to restore circulation.

Fendrel sat against the wall and simply offered a nod.

Thea was sitting across from Fendrel with her eyes closed, and she very clearly wasn’t answering.

Brom prodded, “Thea?”

Nothing.

Isolde frowned and pushed herself to her knees, crawling across the stone floor to her friend.

Fendrel was there faster, and he shook her. “Thea? Can you hear me?”

Thea just slumped to the side. Fendrel caught her before she hit the ground.

Isolde pressed her fingers to her neck and felt her pulse pounding away. Fendrel helped her sit Thea back up. The healer patted Thea’s cheek. “Thea?” She tapped harder. “Thea, wake up.”

Thea’s eyes sprung open and she looked around in confusion before she remembered where she was and relaxed back against the wall again.

“Are you all right?” Isolde asked.

“Yeah, fine,” she reassured. “Just my head feels…dizzy.”

She nodded. “The altitude. You should start to feel better soon. Just need some water is all.”

Fendrel sifted through his pack and offered his canteen to Thea.

Thea took careful sips, not wanting to use up their supply so soon.

The cave they were in was little more than a small indent in the mountain. They could see the back of the cave, just a mere ten feet away. No animals in there. No plants.

“Mate,” Merek started, pushing himself to sit up as he spoke to Carac, “how did you even know this was here?”

The boy shrugged. “I just…I heard a small pocket of quiet where the wind didn’t reach. Figured it must be a cave.”

“Thank Aestus for you,” Peronell said as he pressed his lips to his forehead.

“Now what?” Isolde asked, looking to Thea for instruction.

She swallowed hard and licked her lips, opening her mouth to speak.

Fendrel beat her to it. “We need to eat. Perry, pass around some of the food you’ve got. Not all of it, just enough to help us build up our strength. Thea’s got the water.” He gestured for her to pass it to Isolde who was still beside her. “We’ll rest here and then continue on in the morning.”

Isolde expected Thea to yell at him for trying to take control. She expected to see a furious fire raging inside of Thea. But the look in her eyes was not a fire; it was something she could not decipher at all.

Isolde realized there was something different in Fendrel, too. They way he’d taken control just now, the way he’d issued orders…His voice didn’t sound right.

Thea offered the canteen to Isolde with a nod. “He’s right.”

Peronell exchanged a look with Carac but shrugged and reached into his bag for the food.

Ana paced the room nervously. She’d overplayed her hand. She’d royally mucked up the whole thing. Who knew what he was doing to Ulric at that exact moment?

The queen wiped angry tears from her cheeks. She worried the fabric of her soiled gown between her fingers as her thoughts ran ramped with worst case scenarios.

But then the door opened and something came flying at her.

Ana shrieked and jerked away as Favian entered. He placed a candelabra on the chair he’d been sitting in, offering enough light for her to see it was Ulric that had been thrown into the room.

He laid on the floor, groaning but making no effort to move. The light from the open door allowed Ana to see the weakness in his once strong body.

She fell to the ground beside him, hands roving above his body helplessly. “Ulric! Are you all right?”

Ana suddenly fell back with a cry of pain. Her jaw throbbed painfully and she looked up in shock at Favian. He’d kicked her away from Ulric and was now crouching beside him. He grabbed his hair and forced his head back, pressing a knife to the Guard’s throat.

Ana’s eyes widened in horror.

“This is the boy you wanted?” Favian demanded. “You chose this boy over me?”

Ana cowered, every part of her trembling with fear as her eyes darted back and forth between Favian’s furious gaze and Ulric’s resigned one. “Please, Favian,” she begged. “Please, just leave him—“

“You’ve all been looking at me like I’m the one who’s gone mad, but you’ve been banging on with a child!”

She knew there was a slight age difference between them, but Ulric wasn’t a child. However, she knew better than to argue with him. “I am sorry, Favian, truly I am,” she insisted. “But this is my fault. Please do not punish him for something that I instigated—“

“Even if it was your fault, what would you have me do?” He tilted his head to the side as he studied Ana. “Kill my wife? Take away Creasan’s queen? Rip Althalos’ mother from him? No, punishing you would achieve nothing.” He pulled Ulric’s head further back until he groaned in pain.

“Please!” Queen Ana laid herself prostrate at Favian’s feet, holding onto his boot with trembling hands. “Please, Favian, I’ll do anything. Anything you want, I promise. Just please, don’t hurt him.”

There was a beat of silence where the only thing Ana could hear was Ulric’s labored breathing and her own heart pounding.

“I am king,” Favian said darkly.

“Yes, you are my king,” Ana agree quickly.

“Your clothes, your jewelry, your clothes, the roof over your head is mine.”

She nodded, keeping her forehead pressed to the cold flood. “All of it.”

“And you.”

Ana cringed when she felt his hand settle on her head, felt the chill of the knife still clasped in his fingers. He ran his hand around to her chin and used the point of the blade to tilt her head up, meeting her eyes.

“You are mine, Anastas,” he said.

Whatever he wanted. “Completely yours,” she promised.

“It is difficult for me to believe that when this is the second time—“

“If you show mercy,” she hurried to say, “if you spare his life, I will be yours. You will never be angry in my presence, you will not be frustrated or suspicious. It will be my life’s mission to preserve your happiness.” She felt the weight of chains settling on her with those words, but she would take them gladly if she could prevent Ulric from suffering the punishment she knew was awaiting him. “I swear it to you, Favian,” she said. “Just please. Please, let him go.”

“I believe you, Anastas.” He smiled kindly, like a father humoring his child. “But as I’ve mentioned before, it is not you who concerns me.” The king brought the knife to Ulric’s throat again and Ana felt her heart drop. “If I spare his life, what’s to keep him from trying to carry on with you? How is he to know your words have meaning?”

“He knows,” she vowed. “Favian, he knows. How could he not?”

“No, I think he needs something more. Don’t you, maggot?” he snarled into Ulric’s ear.

Ana stared hard at Ulric, pleading with her eyes for him not to respond. She could see the rising anger, fueled by the embarrassment Favian was forcing upon him. He wanted to speak up, lash out, defend himself like any soldier would. But Ana locked her wide, panicked gaze with his and urged him not to.

“I think we ought to show him.” Favian nodded excitedly and stood, hauling Ulric with him.

Ana hurried to her feet. “What do you mean?”

“You had wanted another child to solidify my claim to the throne and prove my strength. But another child will also prove your allegiance to me as well. So we shall do as you wished. And the maggot,” he said with a cheshire grin, “will watch.”

She was going to be sick.

Ulric began to struggle against the king. “Don’t you dare touch her, you disgusting piece of—“

“Watch your mouth, maggot,” Favian warned, “or I might replace my mercy has vanished.”

Ulric looked at Ana again. “I don’t care what happens to me, but you do not have to do this. You don’t.”

The queen looked between the two men in front of her and then her gaze flicked to the still open doorway which showed the grandeur of the king’s bedroom.

“Oh, be my guest,” Favian said, stepping aside and giving her room to make a run for it. “But if you run for help, just now your lover will be dead before you make it back.”

“Ana, look at me,” Ulric urged.

She brought her eyes back to him.

“It’s all right,” he said, strength coming back to his thinned face. “I’ll be all right.”

As much as it disgusted her, humiliated her, she thought she could do it. Ulric could just close his eyes and she could hide her face beneath the covers. He wouldn’t see a thing. Ana had done it before, and if it was going to save Ulric’s life, she thought she could do it again.

But the way Ulric was staring at her, the pain that was radiating from his unique eyes—not pain from the king’s grip but pain at the thought of her being the king’s plaything—was enough to give her pause.

Favian rolled his eyes to the ceiling with a bored sigh. “Your answer should’ve been much quicker than that. Offer revoked.” And he sliced his dagger through Ulric’s throat.

“No!” Ana screeched.

Ulric made the most horrifying choking sound, a drowning noise, as Favian released him and he crashed to the floor, blood cascading down his neck.

Ana lunged toward him, but Favian caught her around the waist and held her back. Hot, agonized tears flooded her eyes as she watched the stunned expression in Ulric’s face go slack. He coughed, a blast of blood exploding out of his mouth, and then he fell face first and didn’t move again.

Sobs exploded out of Ana as she stared at his dead body, fighting against Favian to get to him but replaceing herself no closer. It was as if Ana’s very heart had been ripped out of her, an ache spreading through her veins, wrapping around every inch of her body.

“Shh,” Favian soothed, pulling her face roughly against his chest when she struggled away. “Shh, it’s all right, Ana. I’ve made it better. He was wrong, you see?” It was a different he Favian was talking about. The first he. The he that had been haunting him. “He took nothing from me. Everything is now as it should be. No more temptation for you, no more paranoia for me.”

As she found herself unable to drag her gaze away from Ulric, Ana lost the energy to fight. She sagged into the king, tears still falling down her face. How much had Favian taken from her? How much would he continue to take from her? She could no longer replace the strength within her to care. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and as dead as her lover when she said, “He did take from you. He took everything from you.”

Favian froze against her. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“He took the most precious thing from you. That which you cherish above all else.”

The king practically jumped away from her, though he held onto her arms, searching her expression for an explanation. “What did he take, Ana?” He shook her. “What does he have?”

A laugh bubbled out of her, a laugh filled with all the stress, all the mortification, all the heart ache. It spilled out of her as she gazed up at the terror in Favian’s crazed green eyes. “Althalos.”

He jerked back as if she’d struck him.

“You Lances have done whatever you could to preserve your lineage,” she spat. “Even your father tried to make sure I’d have a Lance child to continue your legacy.”

“My father wouldn’t have—“

“He did! The night after our wedding. He did. But all of it—“ another laugh burst out of her as she shook her head at the absurdity, “—was meaningless. All of it. Because he could not give me a child and neither could you. But he did.”

Favian blinked so furiously it looked as if he’d suddenly gone blind.

“That is right, Favian.” She smiled cruelly, feeling in control for the first time in her entire blasted life. “Althalos is not your son. He has never been your son. He is his son. Althalos, whom you have put all your hopes for glory after your death,” she said as she stepped up to her husband and glared, “is not even a Lance.”

The secret room went very silent.

In the bedroom, there were no Guards. As per the king’s instructions, no one had ventured inside. Candles burned dimly. The furniture sat undisturbed. The entirety of the room had been forgotten by the people inside the secret room.

So there was no one to notice Althalos peering around the post of the bed. No one to see how his eyes filled with tears when they landed on Ulric’s still form. No one to see the fear in his trembling hands.

No one to be concerned about the way his face hardened with hatred as his gaze moved to the king.

The lot of the them had huddled together inside the cave, shivering into each other’s body heat. The wind of the mountain screamed behind them as they tried to get some sleep. They hadn’t said much while they ate. They were too exhausted to have any real conversation.

Isolde laid on the hard ground between Merek and Brom, wishing more than she ever had in her entire life for a blanket. Merek scooted closer to her, urging her further into his warmth. She glanced up and saw him watching her with concern. Isolde offered him a grateful smile as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force herself to sleep.

“Izzy?” Merek whispered, his breath fanning across her face.

She cracked her eyes open again. “Yeah?”

“Could I—“ He cut himself off with a shake of his head and closed his eyes, settling in. “Never mind. Good night.”

“Hey, wait, you can’t do that.” She poked him in the chest. “What were you going to say?”

“Just forget it.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We need to get our rest. You should already be asleep.”

“Merek,” she said seriously.

He sighed. “All right, fine. I was going to say…You and I are very good friends. And we have been for some time.”

“Right…” She wasn’t sure where this was going.

“I knew you when you first joined The Source. I knew you throughout your training. I knew you when you started going with Janshai. I knew you when the two of you got engaged.”

She watched him very carefully, taking in every muscle twitch on his face.

“And I just…don’t understand it.”

“Don’t understand what?”

“The two of you.”

“Me and Janshai?”

He nodded. “I mean, I’m happy for you, of course. But he’s so…”

When he didn’t say anything, Isolde pressed, “So what?”

Merek shrugged. “It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, go on. He’s so what?”

He thought about it for a moment and ultimately settled on, “I don’t know. I guess I just thought when you decided to wed, it would be with someone less…passive.”

“Passive?” She felt her defenses rise, but she made sure to remain calm. The last thing she needed was the rest of the group to hear their conversation. “Just because he isn’t a warrior like you—“

“I wasn’t trying to compare myself to him at all,” he promised.

“Weren’t you? Why else would you use the word ‘passive’?”

“I just meant that I’ve seen the two of you interact,” he explained. “He does whatever you tell him, no questions asked. He follows you like a lost puppy.”

“Perhaps you’re mistaking passiveness for love. I wouldn’t expect you to know what that looks like,” she snapped, and immediately cringed internally. She hadn’t meant to say that, didn’t mean it all. But it felt like his line of questioning was an attack on her.

Merek’s brows lowered and her eyes turned to stone. “He doesn’t do any work.”

“Of course he does. He cooks—“

“No, he passes out food. He doesn’t cook it.”

“Well, that’s a job.”

“It’s not enough!” Merek drew a breath to calm himself and eyed the rest of their friends, making sure they were still asleep. “Forget it. I didn’t want to talk about this anyway.” He turned so that his back was facing her.

She gaped at the back of his head. “You were the one that brought it up, not me.”

“Are you seriously going to sit there and say that he’s done his part for our society by sitting on his arse and handing out plates?”

Isolde didn’t so much as hear the words as she felt them grumble through his back.

“Do you seriously expect me to sit here and let you criticize my fiancé?” she fired back. She felt her face getting warm with the heat of an argument, and she was distantly grateful for it. Any source of warmth was appreciated. She sat up on her elbow and demanded, “And how dare you try to tell me who I can be with—“

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” he said. “I was just making an observation.”

“An observation,” she snorted. “And if it was up to you, who would you rather observe me with?”

Merek didn’t answer her, which just infuriated her more.

She jostled his shoulder. “I asked you a question.”

He didn’t turn fully back around, just enough to meet her eyes over his shoulder. “Me.”

It felt like that word sucked all the air out of her lungs. He was staring up at her with his familiar brown eyes, his chocolate hair messy from the wind framing his face as it hung around his shoulders.

Isolde would be lying if she said she never felt anything for Merek. She had felt something for him since almost the day they’d met. But she’d never let herself actually consider it because of Janshai. She had made a promise to Janshai and she would never have broken that promise for Merek. She never knew how much of what he said was just teasing and how much was genuine.

Even now, she couldn’t break her promise to Janshai. She had said she’d marry him, and marry him she would.

“Merek…” She didn’t know what to say, how to word it.

Merek laughed softly, an awkward chuckle that stung with what he perceived as rejection, and gave her his back again. “Like I said, just forget it.”

She laid back down, still facing him. They were still pressed tightly together for the sake of heat, and she wondered if he could feel her heart thumping wildly through the thick skin of her coat.

Isolde’s mother used to tell her a story about a little girl and a lemur. In the story, the little girl went about her daily chores: cleaning, gardening, cooking. All things Isolde had been made to do as a child. The little girl knew her family wasn’t especially wealthy, knew there were others who had more than her, but she was happy just the way she was. She had everything she needed right there at home. Until one day, she was in the garden, picking weeds, when a lemur ventured close by. The girl had never seen anything like that creature before and she wanted it more than anything else in the world. She begged her mother for a lemur, promised to do all the chores of the house for an entire year, for her entire life, if she could just have a lemur. Her mother had denied it, and the little girl cried herself to sleep every night after that. She wanted the lemur so badly and it killed her to know she couldn’t have it.

Isolde recalled that story now, in that frigid cave. The girl had been content with her life, knowing there was more out there but never seeing it. It wasn’t until she witnessed it with her own eyes that she felt an overwhelming need to have it.

Isolde had known Merek was there, she’d been with him for years. But she hadn’t known it was possible to be with Merek the way he wanted until he’d presented it in front of her.

And now she felt she’d burst without it.