Wrath of Lions by David Dalglish, Robert J. Duperre

doe’s. “I remember slicing Ben’s throat.…I remember screaming andbeing placed in this well, then a pain in my head, and after that…It was horrible, sir.…I saw…”
    He said something Ahaesarus couldn’t hear.
    “What was that? What did you say?”
    “I saw myself, screaming, falling down a dark hole.”
    “What hole? What were you screaming at?”
    Tears rolled down the boy’s cheeks. “I don’t know, sir,” he said, almost pleading.
“Dreams are portentious.”
    Ahaesarus took a chance and inched forward until he was close enough for Geris to lean into him, sobbing against his chest. He held the boy’s head, his greasy hair slipping between his fingers. This was the most cogent he had ever seen Geris, and it gave him hope. Perhaps the boy could be saved after all.
    They held that position for quite some time, until Geris’s breathing slowed down and his cries ceased. At last the Warden pulled back, gazing on the youthful face with its watery eyes and quivering lips.
    “Sir?” the boy asked.
    “Yes, Geris?”
    “I want to go home.”
    “I know, son. I know.”
    “Please, sir. Please let me out. You can accompany me on the journey back, and you can keep me tied up if you wish. But I want to see my family again. I want to be
home
.” He looked like me might start crying again.
    Ahaesarus slid backward, clenching and unclenching his hands.
    “I cannot,” he said.
    “But
why
?”
    He thought of Isabel’s decree, of how stern she had been. He then tilted his head, showing the boy his ear.
    “You see this wound, Geris? You nearly bit my ear clean off. And I am not the only one you have attacked in your madness. We cannot let you out until we are certain you no longer pose a threat to yourself or anyone else, and only Ashhur can decide that.”
    “But sir, no! Please! I’ll do anything! I’m better, I promise!”
    “I am truly sorry, but…but…I cannot.”
    Ahaesarus slowly grabbed the torch off the ground, stood as much as he could in the cramped space, and returned the torch back to its resting spot. Geris continued his protests in between gnawing on the heavy rope binding his wrists to the wall. Ahaesarus gazed at his student, and guilt ripped through his insides once again.
    “I am sorry, I truly am,” he told the crying boy, “but our god will be here soon.”
    “I know,” said a small voice. “Thank you sir. I…I love you.”
    Ahaesarus bit back his tears and walked up the steps and out of the chamber. Once outside, he replaced the covering over the stairwell, sealing Geris in darkness once more. Less than twenty paces down the road, he leaned against the side of one of the carelessly constructed barns to catch his breath. This time he could not stop the tears from coming. He couldn’t help doubting whether he’d made the correct choice, and when he closed his eyes, he saw Geris’s innocent stare, the loving gaze of the child who cherished and respected him. Ahaesarus swore to himself that he would be strong for the boy, for Paradise, for his god. If Geris were indeed cured, he would be released, but only after Ashhur made that determination. In the meantime, he would work better, harder, and longer. The world might have gone insane, but he hadn’t, and it was past time for him to put aside his uncertainty and help set things right.

C HAPTER
    5
    “G ood-bye, my love, you will be missed,” said Rachida Gemcroft, the most beautiful woman that Matthew Brennan, the richest man in Port Lancaster, had ever laid eyes on.
    “As will you,” Moira, the exiled daughter of House Crestwell, said softly. “I will carry you in my heart always.”
    The very pregnant Rachida eased aside a stray filament of Moira’s silver hair and then leaned forward. The women’s lips met and lingered for a long moment. Their arms were wrapped around each other’s waists, locking them in a lover’s embrace. When their lips finally did part, Moira was crying. Matthew stared at them dumbly, aroused