Warrior's Ransom (The First Argentines #2) - Jeff Wheeler Page 0,59
are always our own. The obligations we feel belong to a different world, founded on kindness, scruples, sacrifices—a world entirely different from the one you’re still in. The Deep Fathoms is the place from which we emerge to be born, before returning thither, to live under the empire of those unknown laws we have strived to obey because we bore their teaching within us without knowing who had taught us. Yet still we choose which world influences us most in our earthly existence.
He looked at Ransom with utter sincerity and conviction. We mortals instinctively trust people to tell the truth because we are, in our hearts, truthful beings. That is the law we no longer remember. But in the mortal coil, we are susceptible to deception.
Ransom found himself trembling, his entire body quivering as if he bore the weight of the entire castle on his back. The phantasm before him spoke words of truth that echoed within the deepest reaches of his being.
You were chosen, but you can still be deceived. I cannot make your decisions for you. It is up to you. But I came back to warn you. I still love you, my boy.
The look in the king’s eyes turned fiercer, more determined.
You already know what you must do. You’ve known for some time. You merely have to muster the courage to do it. I wish I had had someone like you to serve me when I was king.
The ghost king reached out his wraithlike hand, and streams of mist curled from it. The touch, when it came, felt like the morning fog.
“Thank you,” Ransom choked out, trying not to sob.
The ghost king looked around at the anteroom, a smile of contentment on his mouth, and then he dissolved into vapor, and the churning of the fountain ceased.
Ransom collapsed onto the floor.
A hand touched his shoulder and shook him. “Are you unwell? Why are you sleeping on the floor?”
Ransom blinked awake, blinded by the sunlight streaming in through the window. He raised his hand to block the light and felt stiff and uncomfortable.
He lifted his head and found a serving girl crouched next to him, looking at him with confusion. She was probably twelve years old, and her expression indicated she thought he was either very drunk or very foolish, or maybe both.
“Is it sunrise?” he asked, sitting up and stifling a groan. His strength was sapped and weak, as if he’d run against the surf for days.
“Can’t you see the sunlight? You’re lucky I found you first, or you might have gotten a scolding from your lord.”
He sat up, and it was then he remembered the vision of King Gervase. His mentor’s words still burned in his heart. They had awakened him to the truth. He rose to his feet, and the serving girl did the same.
“Thank you for waking me,” he said. “Go about your business.”
“The same with you,” said the girl with accusing eyes. She tossed her head as she walked off.
Ransom rubbed his arms, his mind in a fog. He knew it had been no dream. His sword was still strapped to his waist, although the raven’s head wasn’t glowing anymore. All the conflict and angst he’d felt over the past days had been crushed beneath the certainty of what he needed to do. It wouldn’t be easy. King Devon would likely be furious with him.
None of that mattered anymore. The Fountain had sent King Gervase to him, and he intended to take his advice with the utmost seriousness. He needed to be honest. If Alix had indeed deceived him, it explained why his feelings had altered so much after leaving Bayree and why she’d been so eager for him to return quickly. Being away from her had lessened her hold on him.
He left the alcove and walked to the king’s private chamber. When he got there, he saw two of the king’s guards, Sir Axien and Sir Thatcher, on duty.
“The king didn’t summon you, Sir Ransom,” said Sir Thatcher.
“I know, but I must speak with him urgently.”
Both knights looked confused, but Sir Axien opened the door and slipped inside. He returned a moment later and gestured for Ransom to enter.
The king was holding out his arms as his manservant put a royal robe on his shoulders. A discarded meal was on the table, along with many scrolls and papers.
“This is unusual,” the king said with a grin. “Are you so eager to set sail for Brugia that you’ve come for your orders?”