Read Online Forget Me Not, by Juliann Whicker - Free Book Online

much darker than it
had been before.
    “ The Elves are passing
on,” Tharmul replied, his voice low with an undercurrent that
filled the room with awareness of him, his power, his inherent
worthiness over all others.
    “ Yes. With your
assistance, they are. Are you the cause of the Emperor and his
Bashai’s long lives? At what price?” the High Precept demanded,
eyes narrowing on the other man.
    “ You pay the price for
allowing the barbarians to grow in strength over the centuries,
allowing them to desecrate the earth.”
    “ You told me that
Elsyrians were meant to rule the earth, to subjugate all man. I
disagreed.”
    “ You were right,” Tharmul
said with a terrifying smile. “Elsyrians were not meant to rule.
One man who understands destiny will hold the earth in his fist
until peace finally reigns. Harrin, guard, protect, defend,” he
snarled, these last words in a guttural Barabbas that went straight
to Balthaar’s soul.
    Balthaar’s met Tharmul’s
eyes with a gasp. The marks etched in his flesh, his name, his bond
with the Emperor ached with a power that could not be
denied.
    “ Harrin,” Hatia whispered,
a breath that none other could hear.
    Balthaar took one moment
to breathe in her scent before he shoved Hatia away from him and
into the High Precept. He moved with greater speed than an Elsyrian
to take his place between his liege, the Emperor and the two
Rasha.
    “ Son of the Emperor,”
Tharmul murmured, resting a hand on the back of Balthaar’s neck
where the designs had been burned into him, stirring the call of
war and blood. The emperor’s strength, energy, life force filled
Balthaar until he was dizzy with euphoria, strength, superhuman
capacity and blood lust.
    With merely a sliver of
bronze in his hand, he engaged the blue-skinned Rasha, an enormous
silver sword against a thread of bronze and yet Balthaar easily
slid inside Hathrom’s guard, slashing his arm until Balthaar held
the Rasha’s sword in both of his hands. He raised it to strike the
killing blow then spun, slicing the blade through the neck and
shoulder of the Emperor, Tharmul Elsyrian traitor, his
father.
    The pleased expression on
Tharmul’s face did not fade as the head spun across the floor
leaving a spray of silver over the pink stone.
    The gasps, the shrieks and
screams meant nothing to Balthaar as he turned and looked at Lady
Perr where she knelt beside the High Precept, hand outstretched as
if to stop him, the look in her eyes a peculiar mix of fear and
faith.
    He dropped the sword from
his fingers as hands grabbed him, holding him tightly as he smiled
at her, bowing his head to his lady, now avenged.

Chapter 17
    Balthaar looked up from
his place on the stone bench, circles of iron binding his wrists to
chains secured to the stone floor. Instead of being in a dungeon,
he was held in a tower with windows facing east and west so he
could always feel the sun’s rays in the small room.
    “ Welcome, High Precept.
I’d offer you refreshments, but the manacles make pouring wine
difficult.”
    The figure beneath the
deeply cowled cloak straightened, pushing back the hood. “I have no
doubt in your capabilities,” the High Precept said with a slight
smile. “Do you know why you’re here?”
    Balthaar shrugged. “I
assume you are deciding what to do with me,” he said with an
indifferent air that shifted as he leaned forward, his hands
tightening into fists. “Tell me, is she well? Is her mind…” His jaw
clenched as he searched the High Precept’s face.
    “ She is well,” the ancient
Elsyrian answered. “She has so many questions, demanding answers
that she barely has time to hear before she’s on to the next
unknown. Of course, she’s visited me three times a day, practically
camps outside my door petitioning for your release. Her arguments
in your defense are as thorough and varied as they are passionate.
I believe we have succeeded in breaking her curse.”
    Balthaar frowned at him.
“We?”
    The