The Lost Hero - Chapter 6

Ero glared at Firn. His old nanny beamed back, unrepentant.

“You drugged Vabia,” he grated through his teeth.

“Morsophia is a traditional ingredient in the milk bath,” she said calmly. “Relaxes the muscles, promotes healthy humors.”

Only his love of the woman kept his retort behind his teeth. And the memory of her switch to his rear end. No doubt she would take him to task even now, no matter he towered over her.

“Did you tell Athus you were doing this?” he demanded when he could speak rationally.

Firm blinked at him. “As if I would tell a strange man such a thing about a lady’s toilet!”

“You’re telling me.”

Firn’s shrug was the sum of decades of managing her royal employers. “Yes?”

Luckily, Athus walked in before Ero had to find an answer to this.

“Ah, Ero, Did Cantor have any insight?”

Grateful for an excuse to not discuss Vabia’s personal hygiene (and subsequent nakedness), Ero laid out the papers he held.

“I think it was a form of summoning glyph. A passageway, of a sort.”

“A passage to where?”

“I couldn’t tell,” Ero admitted. He’d tried to recreate the moment, the details confused by the dreamlike state. “But there was something on the other side.”

Athus removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. “I will not believe one of my own people would betray us so.”

Ero was not generous. “I will find out who did this.”

“You will bring them to me. Alive.” Athus’ voice held no option for otherwise.

“I will try.”

The evening dragged on. Endless reports, questioning his soldiers, searching for some clue in Cantor’s texts and scrolls. The few days since Vabia’s arrival felt like thousands. He wanted her gone so his life could return to its comforting rhythm.

Patrolling with his Watchbrothers in the hills. Helping his adopted family clean and card this year’s fleeces for the weavers. Venturing into the Watch to slaughter any crytch that dared to return to the cursed ground.

Ero leaned against the railing of the terrace and watched the sun set behind the bluffs cradling the city. The clouds had thinned, leaving streaks that tinted pink and purple against the darker blue of the sky.

What was he missing? There had to be some trace, some taint of evil left by whomever dared breech the sanctuary of Athus. That one of his own would do such a thing, mock the bravery of the Watchmen, the sweat and blood they shed to protect this land!

Was it Vabia? Was he overlooking the obvious in an attempt to force this peace treaty into being? Was he so desperate that he would trust an enemy, just to hold out a little longer in the face of this threat?

The restrictions placed on him by Athus’li chafed. He could end this now. He could find this sorcerer and kill him, as easily as he could end Vabia and her treachery.

Be patient, Ero.

He grunted, discontent, but obedient. Always obedient. Oathbound. Gladly and willingly oathbound. But, still.

The bells sounded for nightfall. He pushed from the railing and made to return to the King’s House.

On the planks before him, a line appeared. He drew back, watching as the line grew longer, twisting. It scrawled across the wood, cutting a mark into the planks.

He tried to call out, but the air had grown stiff. It was an effort to move his arm and grip the Sword. A flash of light and the glyph gleamed in the evening.

A man stepped through. He saw Ero and grinned.

“The boy Champion.”