Page 7 of Immortal Sentry

Jaidia relied on art and artifice to disguise what nature hadn’t blessed her with, dyeing her mousy hair a vibrant shade of red. Woe be to anyone who didn’t kowtow to her whims. Her satisfied smirk belied her mourning black ensemble.

Bain grinned at Kerric’s approach. “I believe you know everyone here.” The man he’d been speaking with turned toward Kerric.

Commander Crau.

“Why you!” Kerric lunged. “You betraying bastard!” Hands roughly grabbed him, but he shrugged them off. “I’ll kill you! You betrayed our king!” And Kerric. And Kerric’s men. The sinking feeling in his gut said Kerric should have known, should have seen. If he’d not been so blindly obedient to his commander, could he have saved King Lothan?

Four guards held Kerric, forcing him to his knees. He glared at the man he’d once looked up to. “You swore a vow to protect the king.”

“And protect the king, I shall,” Crau replied with an aloof sneer as he took his place behind the throne. If Bain truly knew Crau, he’d not expose his back to the man. “I’d also hold my tongue if I were you. The lives of you and your men hang in the balance.”

So, this was it. Sentencing at last.

“I brought you an old friend.” Bain gave a sinister grin that sent shivers up Kerric’s spine.

The rasp of soft slippers against stone pulled Kerric’s attention to the left. A wizened man with shaggy white hair and a full beard shuffled forward, leaning heavily on an elaborately carved staff. His body was bent with age and hard living. Miisov, the royal mage.

Another who should have protected Lothan, and no friend of Kerric’s.

Miisov hobbled across the stone flooring,shuffle, shuffle, tap.He wore the purple robes of his station, the hem embroidered with summer star patterns. In the few days since Kerric last saw him, he appeared to have aged.

Kerric cried out,. “Miisov! What are you—”

Miisov lifted a hand, silencing Kerric with a spell. “Do not speak to me, you vile betrayer.”

“Me?” Kerric tried to say but couldn’t move his mouth.

“You were charged with protecting the king and his family. You have failed and brought judgment down on yourself and the rest of the royal guards.” Miisov glowered, an expression Kerric hadn’t seen on the old man’s normally jovial features.

Miisov paced the floor, one hand behind his back, the other on his staff. “King Bain has generously allowed me to carry out your punishment in exchange for his use of my services. Because you failed to protect King Lothan, you will forevermore guard this castle, unable to desert your post.”

Bain drew close to Jaidia and laughed at something she’d said. How dare they laugh! Had Bain already bedded her before killing her husband?

Miisov came closer, putting his lips near Kerric’s ear and lowering his voice to a scant whisper. “Long live Prince Eron.”

Did he know they’d killed the wrong person and that Prince Eron might still be alive?

Kerric lowered his head in shame at having failed King Lothan. “I deserve my punishment.” Deserve it? Yes. Understand it? No. “But I ask that my men be spared.”

“I am afraid they must share your fate.” Whatever Miisov planned couldn’t be pleasant.

Outside, thunder rocked the castle as heavier rain pelted down. Ibrus poured out his anger once more. At Kerric’s inadequacy? At Crau for his treachery? Or Bain, who’d ordered his nephew’s family slain for greed?

Miisov stepped back. “Captain Kerric, I now sentence you and your men to act as eternal sentinels for Hisar Castle until such a time as you’ve redeemed yourselves. Immortal, immovable, you’ll stand watch until the castle turns to dust without proper redemption.”

Surely Miisov didn’t possess such powers.

Kerric stood in shock, watching as people he never thought would betray King Lotan pledged their loyalty to the usurper, Bain: Jaidia, Miisov, and Crau. One by one, other nobles approached the throne.

Did Miisov’s sentence mean Kerric had a chance for redemption? If not, why wouldn’t he simply kill Kerric outright? While the rest of the assembled were preoccupied, Miisov slipped Kerric’s sword from beneath his robes with a wink and handed it to Kerric.

“No! You can’t arm him!” Crau roared.

Miisov chuckled. “Are you worried about a single armed man against a mage of my power?”

Tendrils of fog drifted from the glowing jewel at the tip of Miisov’s staff, swirling around Kerric. Tired. So tired. Needed sleep. The mist wound tighter and tighter, a moisture-ridden shroud. The sword made no difference, Kerric’s arm being too heavy to lift the blade.

A thousand barbed points stabbed him at once. He screamed in pain despite his best efforts to remain silent. Invisible flames licked his body. Kerric closed his eyes, giving in to the agony.

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