Nethermost Realm: Prisoner of Arlunn

Chapter 7

Please note: I am updating this draft of The Prisoner of Arlunn. The most important change is that the main character's name has been changed from Philip to Rian.

7

Back on the Guardian city of Arlunn, the night had passed quietly. That morning, when the wizardress Emmara came to the door again, Kyran stiffened. He hurried closer to Rian. He didn't want them to take him again. His heart began to pound. But Rian met her at the door.

"No," Rian said. "Kyran and I are staying here." The words brought relief to Kyran. He didn't trust these Arlunni and every memory that Molan had left him had shown him that they were not to be trusted.

"But what about your studies?" argued Emmara.

Rian stared at her. "You tricked me yesterday. I don't trust you."

Emmara stared at him, flustered. "We won't interfere with Kyran, without your presence. We've given you our word." Kyran tensed, hoping that Rian wouldn't believe her.

Rian shrugged. "We'll see. Anyway, the last day or so have been very busy. Kyran and I need a day off."

He saw her formulating and rejecting arguments.

"Bring me some books, I can study here," said Rian.

Relief came when she went away. Who was to say what they would do if they got him alone in a room? He had sensed many of their thoughts towards him—all malicious, thoughts of destruction and hatred. Most of them believed that Kyran should never have existed at all—as if that was his worst crime.

But they had their own complicated code of honor, or else they would have done whatever they wanted to with Kyran already. So, maybe there was hope. Right now, they were tolerating them. But, for how long?

Rian had made threats of returning to Chuness, but did his brother even know how to get there, or where they were? He doubted it. Arlunn and the worlds of Cathal were on another plane of existence entirely. Kyran probably knew more about this than his brother did.

Later, a man came back with breakfast--better food than yesterday. Spicy sausages and some sort of cubed, boiled sweet potatoes—and they stuffed themselves.

Emmara returned with a stack of books, carried by a young boy, maybe 12. "These are the most basic magic books I have," she said. "But you might learn something from them." She set them on the table. "Your highness, surely you're not going to live here? We have a room for you up at the school."

"Oh, I like it just fine here," said Rian. "Though, it could use more furniture. Also, we could both use a change of clothes."

He picked up the books and tried to read them but set them down almost immediately. "These are no good," he said.

"Why?" Emmara demanded.

"I don't actually speak your language. I think the Arlunni sword I found transferred that ability to me," said Rian

"You can't read?"

His big brother picked up the book again.

"I'm not sure. I think my Dad and Aunt Aldena taught me to read their language--but it's been a long time."

"So, I have to teach you to read?" Emmara said, displeased.

"Do you have any easier books, like 'See spot. See spot run?'" he asked.