to Cathymel, and during the battle for Castle Asteria,
Father was killed, and I was captured by the Mages. They tried to
take me back to their underground hideout under the Mayahol, but I
escaped once we reached the Narleahan border. One of the stablemen
there loaned me a horse, and I returned home as fast as I
could."
Veran's sobs intensified as though his story
was her final confirmation that her husband had been killed.
Vultrel hugged her tightly, desperately searching for some words to
encourage her while at the same time forcing down the lump in his
throat. Across from them, Elayna stood in front of her chair, her
face filled with anxious hope. "And my son?" The question came out
as little more than a whisper. "What of Arus?"
Vultrel took a deep breath as he released his
grip on his mother and stepped forward. "I tried my best, but I'm
afraid I failed." The tears were running down his cheeks now, and
there was nothing he could do to stop them. He kneeled before her
and bowed his head. "I failed you, I failed my father, and I failed
my mother, but most of all, I failed Arus. I'm sorry, Mrs. Sheeth.
Your son is dead."
Chapter 4
It was hard for Arus to know how long he'd
been sleeping when he awoke. Despite the fact that the Aeden
Alliance measured time in the same way as humans on Terranias
had—Damien said it was the most common speed of planetary movement
across the universe—despite that, without the sun or the moon to
guide him, he felt as lost as a fish in the middle of the forest.
Still, he felt rested, so there was little reason to remain
in bed. Besides, he'd planned to spend as much time as he could
spare training his skills, and today was as good a time to start as
any. The first day of my new life away from Terranias. Can't let
it get me down. I'm going to make the most of whatever
opportunities I'm given.
At least his mother would know he was alive
and well; that had helped him sleep more soundly, though he had
mixed feelings about his promise to one day return home. It wasn't
that he didn't want to, but the truth was that he didn't see
any way it would be possible in his current condition. He felt bad
including it in the letter without telling her exactly what Truce
had done to him, but he didn't want his mother to live out the rest
of her life with the despair of having lost both her husband and
her only son. Hope kept people alive, kept them going through even
the roughest times, and he wanted to give his mother the same hope
that he had that one day he'd be able to step foot on the soil of
Terranias again.
With a stretch and a yawn, Arus threw his
legs over the side of the bed and sat up. To his surprise, a stack
of neatly folded clothes sat on a small wooden dresser just beside
the door. He set his feet on the cold floor and went over to
investigate, scratching his head and yawning again. There was a
small hand-written note atop the garments.
Arus,
We had our tailor come up with some clothes
for you to replace your old ones. We tried to match your style and
taste based on what you normally wear, but if these won't do, we'll
be happy to provide you with something else. I'll be in the gym if
you need anything. Kitreena
Arus looked down at his own clothes. He was
long-overdue for a change, having worn the same blue tunic and
brown pants since being captured and taken to the underworld.
Stains of dried-blood surrounded his left shoulder, and various
rips and tears had turned the once comfortable garments into
tattered old rags. The new clothes were indeed similar to what he
was used to, both in size and style, though there were some colors
mixed into the pile that he sooner go naked than wear. There were
plenty of nice sleeveless shirts though, and Arus snatched up a red
one to go with a set of dark brown pants. There were even several
clean sets of smallclothes there for him, though quite different
from the Keroko style. It was understandable, though; there was no
way the tailor
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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