40 - Reckoning

  Garrick cradled Luka close, hoping the boy didn’t realize how much he shook, how badly his hands trembled as he stroked the boy’s hair. The boy lay exhausted and in pain. Garrick could see the tatters his feet had become. Merrick had warned him Luka got hurt, but he didn’t expect this - the blood, the cuts, how deep they ran. His breath caught. He brushed his lips across the top of Luka’s head, rocking back and forth.

  He didn’t know how long it took for Luka to calm down. Garrick kept his grip tight as he murmured, “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.” His knees ached. His back ached. But he didn’t move until the twitching stopped. Until the boy’s heart stopped beating wildly. Until he no longer knew if he was telling the boy or himself that it would be alright. Until his own hands stopped shaking.

  Nealan and Harlan read the tilt of his head and moved silently into the cell. Their hands lifted and righted the cot once more, pushing it against the wall. Luka flinched, whimpered. Garrick gripped him again, rubbing his arm. His thumb brushed over the ridges of the burns covering the boy’s body, and his heart tightened.

  “That’s it, Luka. Just breathe. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

  Nealan and Harlan retreated to the door and Garrick took advantage of the calm. Carefully, slowly, he lifted Luka into his arms. The boy tensed then sagged, the fight in him spent. Too light. He felt too light. Garrick lowered him gently onto the cut, his touch careful. He frowned when the chains rattled.

  “Dammit,” he whispered.

  Luka whimpered.

  Garrick didn’t even look back. He held out his hand expectantly. No words needed. Harlan reached into his pocket. He dropped a key and a small vial in the high commander’s waiting palm and stepped back again. Garrick placed the key in the lock on Luka’s wrists. Luka went still. The iron shackles fell away, clanking against the wall.

  “No more of those,” Garrick said.

  He brushed a lock of Luka’s hair away, unstoppered the vial and raised it to the boy’s lips. Luka shied away for a moment, but one glance at Garrick and his lips parted.

  Garrick smiled. “Good lad. It’s alright. Just sleep now, okay?”

  The boy’s breath quickened as Garrick continued to brush his hair, fingers brushing through the shortened strands. Luka blinked sleepily, the sedative starting to take effect.

  “The haircut looks good on you.” Garrick paused before adding softly, “You look your age.”

  He doubted Luka would understand. And Luka did not, but he didn’t pull away either. His fingers tightened around the edge of the cot, bracing, but he let Garrick’s fingers soothe him until his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing settled, and he slipped into dreams.

  Garrick hoped they were good ones.

  He just watched for a moment, hand lingering close. The longer he stared, the more it built - anger. It simmered beneath the surface, too close for comfort. Riven.

  He turned and stalked from the cell.

  “Make sure no one gets in here without me,” he said sharply.

  Make sure no one else messes this up, he thought.

  Nealan and Harlan straightened. Garrick barely spared them a glance. He marched through the corridor and up to the healer’s ward, fury dogging his shadow. As he approached the open door, he heard it.

  “Ow! Be careful will you?” Riven snapped.

  “Sorry, sir,” the healer said, venom dripping.

  “What’s your name,” Riven demanded.

  “Oliver, sir,” the healer replied.

  Another hiss of pain escaped Riven’s lips.

  “Dammit, I said-”

  “Captain Hawthorne.”

  Riven went silent at the sound of Commander Lyndon’s stern tone. Garrick could see him in the corner, arms crossed. He looked cold - calm but cold. Good. Lyndon knew the stakes here, too.

  He slammed open the door. Riven started then jumped to his feet as Garrick stormed inside, outrage painting his face scarlet.

  “High Commander Voss!” he cried. “I was attacked! I-”

  But Garrick grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into the wall. Riven felt the breath leave his lungs at the impact. He gasped for breath as Garrick leaned in, mere inches from Riven’s face. The high commander’s jaw clenched. A vein in his forehead throbbed with barely contained fury.

  “You attacked a prisoner,” he growled, voice low and dangerous.

  Riven felt like he had been slapped.

  “It-it attacked me first!” he protested. “That damn monster-”

  “Silence!” Garrick boomed. “You misread the situation, Captain Hawthorne, refused to listen to reason, and attacked a prisoner - no, more than that. You attacked a child.”

  “What the hell are you on about?” Riven sneered. “Sir-”

  “I said shut up and listen!” Garrick shouted.

  Riven fell quiet, breath coming quickly. Garrick growled as he pressed Riven more firmly against the wall. Riven grunted as his shoulders ached against the stone. Lyndon stepped forward, tension in his shoulders.

  “High Commander,” the commander said, voice low in warning.

  But Garrick ignored him.

  “Put your pride aside for once and listen, you bastard! You attacked him. Unprovoked. Unwarranted. You! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “That thing has killed hundreds of our people!”

  Garrick’s face twisted, pained. His grip loosened. Right. Riven couldn’t have known.

  “He’s only fifteen-”

  “I don’t care!” Riven shouted, face red with rage. “Captain Creed told me, and I didn’t give a fuck! Still don’t. It’s a monster!”

  Garrick blinked.

  “Creed told you?” Garrick asked. “And you didn’t care?”

  Riven’s face contorted, his chest heaving up and down. He pushed back, and Garrick stumbled in shock.

  “Dammit! What the hell? Did you forget so easily out of guilt or some shit?” Riven shouted. “Rhodeny - my brother, your commander - died fighting that thing! How the hell do you forget something like that?”

  Rhodeny. The name hung between them like a death knell. Garrick’s expression crumpled. He thought of the medallion, heavy in his pocket. Of course he hadn’t forgotten. How could he? Rhodney’s shadow hung over every decision he’d made.

  “Riven,” Garrick said softly.

  But Riven shook his head stubbornly. His voice became hoarse as he continued to shout, not wanting to believe.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “My mother is so broken. Do you know what it’s like to go home and see her so lost? To hear her call me by the wrong name because she couldn’t handle it? To see my sister, and her boys! They loved Rhodney. Do you have any idea how much they look like their uncle? To fall asleep every night and see him dying every fucking time! Throat slit open, dying in my arms, over and over and over! You expect me to just let that go?”

  His hands shook. Garrick watched.

  “You wanted to end this war, sir,” Riven pushed. “But what are you doing?”

  “The same thing,” Garrick said, voice even.

  “No. No!” Riven shouted, gesturing wildly. “Your priorities are fucked up and you know it! You told me this was about ending the war, and now you want to save a monster?”

  Garrick took a deep breath. He knew what Riven meant. The war. It could breathe at any moment, and Luka’s presence was a liability. Knowing the truth was supposed to end the war, but…

  “Goals change, Riven,” Garrick said.

  “Not this one!”

  “I understand.”

  “No you don’t,” Riven spat. “None of you do. You’re so easy to roll over. All of you - you hear one sob story and you fall in line. It’s fucking pathetic!”

  “Watch your tone, Captain!” Lyndon said sharply.

  But Garrick held up a hand. Riven snarled at them both, pressing against the palm Garrick laid against his chest.

  “I thought he meant more to you, but who the hell cares, right? You lost a commander. I lost a brother! How, Garrick? How am I supposed to just let that go?”

  “You don’t,” Garrick admitted. “But Riven, this isn’t-”

  “No!” Riven’s voice ripped from his throat. “No, don’t you dare tell me this isn’t the way. It’s that thing’s way! Why can’t it be ours?”

  Garrick’s brow dipped, his irritation beginning to outweigh his sympathy.

  “And I suppose you’ll be the one to do it?” he growled.

  Riven stiffened, expression hardening.

  “Why not? If that’s what it takes. It’s not allowed to take anything else. Not again. I can’t let that happen.”

  Garrick’s expression became cold.

  “Fine,” he rumbled.

  Without warning, he grabbed Riven’s shirt and strode from the room, dragging the captain after him. Riven yelped and stumbled.

  “High Commander,” Lyndon called after him.

  But Garrick ignored him.

  The eyes that followed them were wide and uncertain. Every knight they passed hesitated, glancing at each other, wondering if they should stop it. But Garrick’s stony expression halted any thought of interference. Something cold settled in Garrick’s heart, something hard. It had taken over his hands and feet as he marched Riven down into the depths of the tower. They crossed into the cool of the prison, Garrick’s grip still twisted in Riven’s shirt. He had no idea if this would work, but he knew Riven. He knew this was only grief talking. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this would all end in disaster. But he had to try.

  If for no one’s sake more than Riven’s.

  The high commander did not stop until he had dragged Riven down the stairs, down the corridor, and straight to the cell. Nealan and Harlen watched nervously but did not stand in his way as Garrick pushed open the heavy cell door. It creaked open loudly, but Luka, exhausted and sedated, did not stir. He tossed Riven inside. The captain sprawled on the floor with a pained grunt, then whirled around only to see Garrick toss a belt knife at his feet. Riven stared at it, shocked.

  “Pick it up,” Garrick growled.

  “Sir?” Riven asked.

  His voice quivered.

  “I said pick it up,” the high commander ordered again. “Go ahead. Dispense your justice. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

  Riven glanced at Luka, who remained asleep, tears streaking his face. He gulped and slowly picked up the knife, then hesitated.

  “High Commander Voss, what are you asking me to do?”

  “You wanted justice? Here’s your chance. But you look at him while you do it.”

  Riven stilled and glanced at the sleeping boy. He approached the cot. His steps sounded heavy on the stone. The knife lifted. Riven’s mouth set into a hard line. Garrick just watched him as his face contorted in hard anger, fist clenching around the hilt, teeth sinking into his lip until it bled.

  And then it happened. Luka whimpered. It was small, more a gasp than anything else. But his fingers curled around the edge of the cot, turning white at the knuckles. His face - the smooth, unburned one - twisted, his tears catching the torchlight.

  “What’s the problem?” Garrick rumbled. “Aren’t you going to do it?”

  “Shut up,” Riven said, voice trembling.

  “If you’re going to do it, do it,” Garrick said. “Do it and get it done. Or do you need a better reason?”

  Garrick scoffed and pushed past him. He lifted Luka off the cot and cradled his head in his lap. The boy remained undisturbed.

  “Would this make it easier?”

  Garrick turned Luka’s face until the scars were revealed. They warped skin, half red, half healed, twisted up his left cheek and down the curve of his neck. He looked more like the monster now. Garrick’s jaw clenched, and he looked up again.

  “Well?”

  “Dammit! Th-this isn’t fair! It’s a monster! Just a fucking monster!” Riven protested.

  But his hand shook, the knife blade shimmering in time with his tremors. Garrick’s expression softened.

  “No, Riven. No, he’s not,” Garrick said. He looked back down at Luka’s sleeping face in his lap. “You heard it from Creed. He’s fifteen. A monster, perhaps, but made. Created. Twisted. We began this war more than two years ago, Riven. You do the math.”

  “Fuck that...”

  “Imagine,” Garrick pressed. “Just think of it - a child, taken, conditioned, turned into a weapon. The things they did to make him that way. It shattered his mind. Turned him into something inhuman. He never had a chance to be anything but a monster.”

  A strangled sound tore itself from Riven’s throat.

  “My brother,” Riven spat. “It killed my brother!”

  “I know,” Garrick said, voice tight.

  “It hurts!”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, God!”

  The knife clattered to the floor. Riven fell to his knees in front of Garrick.

  “I’m sorry, Rhodney. I…I can’t do it.”

  Carefully, Garrick stood and laid Luka back down, hand resting on the boy’s head before he turned back to his old friend. Wordlessly, he knelt down and gripped Riven’s sobbing shoulders. The captain’s fists clutched at Garrick’s sleeve as he screamed into Garrick’s chest. Garrick held him through it all, lifting him gently and helping him from the cell. Outside, Riven collapsed against a wall, trying to catch his breath as the tears continued to pour. Garrick sat beside him. Nealan and Harlan stood a respectful distance.

  “I’m sorry,” Garrick said softly as Riven wept. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see it. I didn’t mean to make you think I had forgotten. Because I could never forget, Riven. I could never forget your brother.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the medallion. Riven stilled as he saw it, his hands shaking as Garrick placed it into his palm.

  “Where…?”

  “He gave it to me after he won the second,” Garrick said quietly. “To thank me for training him. He was talented, your brother, but he wasn’t satisfied with a mere silver token. Wanted that championship medallion.”

  A panicked laugh tore itself from Riven’s mouth. “He got it, too. Never took it off, either. They gave it to me after he-”

  He stopped short, unable to say the words. Garrick’s throat felt full. He glanced down at his hands.

  “Rhodney was my commander, yes, and a damn good one. But he was more than that. He was a brother and a friend. He knew me better than I knew myself sometimes, and I like to think I knew him, if only a little.” Garrick paused and glanced at Riven. “Rhodney was an idealist. He’d have been at Maeve’s side every step of the way, convincing the both of us that trying to understand a monster was better than killing one. He was the best of us.”

  Riven bowed his head.

  “My mother is sick,” he said softly.

  Garrick’s head shot up. Riven didn’t meet his gaze as he continued.

  “She can’t even remember me. She’s stuck in the past. She loved Rhodney so much. She’s still waiting for him to come home. You know, I think he loved someone? I never met her, but in his room, there were letters. They were…” Rhodney paused and took a shuddering breath. “They were from someone who obviously loved him a lot. I wish I’d met her at least once. I hope she knows.”

  He looked up and stared at Garrick, eyes shimmering again.

  “Riven…”

  “That’s what he took, Garrick. The monster…What am I supposed to do? Please…tell me. Because I don’t know any more.”

  Garrick shook his head, lost for words. What else could he say? Everything seemed to fall short. And then, he remembered.

  “Do better,” he breathed. “We do better next time.”

  Riven laughed through the tears. “Rhodney only ever said that when he was training.”

  Garrick smiled wryly. “But it works.” Then he shook his head. “Honestly, Riven? I don’t really know what I’m doing. You were right before - I lost sight of the goal. The war is still on, no matter that the ceasefire has been signed. I thought knowing what the monster is would give us the advantage. Well, I got my truth.”

  Riven’s jaw tightened. “When will this damn thing be over?”

  “I don’t know,” Garrick admitted. “Can I be honest with you? Not commander to knight, but friend to friend.”

  With a hesitant look, Riven nodded.

  “I thought finding the truth about the monster would give us an advantage, but now we know…could we do it? I’m afraid the answer will be ‘yes’ one day if we’re not careful - if we begin to think that the ends justify the means. I’m still afraid. I’m afraid my inability to say ‘yes’ will kill our people, but I’m also afraid of what saying ‘yes’ will turn us into. God knows if it came down to my wife being the one paying the consequences…I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe I’d be you. Or maybe I’d be something worse. Maybe I’d be the monster. Or maybe I don’t have the right to make this decision, since it’s more than one life at stake here. But if we’re not dead, we have to live with ourselves after it’s all over. I don’t want regrets, Riven. What will Adern be when we’re done? What will we be?”

  A sigh escaped Riven’s lips, trembling but firm.

  “Right,” Riven said. But then he whispered. “It still hurts…”

  “I know.”

  And Riven bowed his head once more and wept. Garrick put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. They stayed like that for a long time, and Garrick didn’t leave.

  not abandoned—I just need to let myself relax for a little bit before jumping into Part/Book 2 with full force.