“You?” Lukias said through clenched teeth. “You say that about me? A fine jest, Kishion. He wears a ring on his hand. The Arch-Rike controls him through it. Do not believe him.”
The Kishion snorted, exchanging his grip on Lukias’s wrist with his other hand. He held up his fingers and showed them to Annon. “The Arch-Rike tried to destroy me with that ring. It was left in Stonehollow. I am free of his influence now. This man helped lead the raid into Silvandom against you.”
“I know,” Annon said. “Please. Stop twisting his arm. Let him sit and I will explain. Khiara, are you feeling any better?” He noticed the Vaettir girl struggling to rise and helped her straighten. She stared at the Kishion with fear and confusion and then nodded slowly to Annon.
The Kishion watched her warily, his blue eyes alert for any motion. He kept them all within his sight, shifting around to the other side of Lukias, and then untwisted his arm. The Rike massaged his wrist, his face twisted into a frown of pain.
“I will warn you all right now,” said the Kishion. “Do not try my patience. If you attack me in any way or try to flee, I will not be merciful. Now you, Druidecht. Explain how this wretch is among you.”
Lukias shook his head, his face contorting with anger. “You question him about me? You are the Arch-Rike’s killer. If you are not here to execute us, then I cannot imagine why you are here.”
“Silence,” the Kishion warned. “Not a word more, Lukias. I don’t trust you. Speak, Druidecht. Quickly.”
Annon stared at the man, amazed at the turn of events. “There are questions I would also ask you.”
The Kishion shook his head no. “Answer mine.”
Annon was still amazed at the revelations and he struggled to master his thoughts. What could he tell the Kishion? Would anything he said be safe to reveal? Was this some trick? If Tyrus was still alive, why had he not contacted them? Maybe he had but could not track where Annon and the others were going. Too much confusion.
“Speak!”
Annon sighed deeply. “Tyrus sent us to find Basilides. Do you know of it?”
The Kishion nodded.
“Lukias was persuaded to help us find it. He attempted to convince us along the journey that we would be better served surrendering to the Arch-Rike. He led us there, but refused to grant us any knowledge that would bypass the defenses. He bargained for his life, as any man would. We were attacked by Boeotians along the way, and he assisted us. He was even…ingested by one of the defenders along the outer pass and cut his way out with a long knife. Our truce has been tentative, I assure you. But Erasmus perished inside that horrible place and Khiara and I would have probably perished as well if he had not freed us and led us to the Tay al-Ard that provided the escape. The Arch-Rike himself was leading the hunt for us. We only just escaped.”
The Kishion’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Khiara warily. “What is your role in this, Vaettir?”
“I am a Shaliah. My skills are needed to heal.”
He then gazed down at the prone man. “I will not bother asking you for your motives, Lukias. Surely you can lie well enough to deceive even a black ring.”
“True enough,” Lukias replied evenly. “How did you survive the detonation of the ring?”
The Kishion frowned. “My immunity protects me still.”
Lukias shook his head slowly. “No. What truly protects you, Kishion, is the veil over your memories.” He grunted with pain and slowly stood. “Have you recovered them yet? When the ring burst, did they flood back?”
The Kishion gestured that they had not.
Lukias nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “In every kingdom, there is a man chosen and sent to do the vilest of duties. We all know the King of Wayland is a cunning and ambitious man. He has many rivals. There are many who attempt to topple his power. To preserve it, he thrusts his knife into the vulnerable parts of his enemies. He threatens their kin. Especially their children. Do you even know, Kishion, how many children you have killed? I thought you always wore gloves because you could not bear to see the red on your hands.”
Revulsion and horror swept through Annon. He tried to control his composure, but he could feel the twitching of his cheek muscles, and bile rose into this throat. The Kishion stared at Lukias solemnly. He did not deny it.
“So why would you have joined this quest?” Lukias challenged. “My motives are clear and rather obvious. I believe Tyrus will win. With you to aid him? Even the Preachán would have said the odds improved enormously. If the Arch-Rike falls, another power will step into his place. The King of Wayland is the one to watch. Or Tyrus of Kenatos. I lay my wager with the Paracelsus over the cunning king. I know that I will not earn Tyrus’s trust until his quest is successful. Why are you here, Kishion? What does Tyrus trust you to do?”
There was a snapping of twigs and another shape visible through the trees. “He is my protector.”