The Huntsman of Adamos (Quartet)- draft
THORNS OF A ROSE

CH THORNS OF A WILD ROSE

One hundred twenty-four years after he left for the King’s Academy, Yurieth returned to his mother and father a different young man. He had not returned for his 200th or 300th birthday and had only return this day to check on his brother who was injured. The Xelusians had surged through the defense lines and Abrieth had almost died forever. Yurieth and the group of Huntsmen and Foresters he was training without Axion or Metariel’s knowledge had rained arrows of forever death on the Xelusians and turned to tide of the battle. And when his group had rushed to the aid of Guardians Regulus and Valtais, the seasoned warriors had been shocked with the efficiency with which Yurieth had rallied and commanded the warriors of his wounded brother. Many commented it was almost like Huntsman Yurieth could see the progression of the enemy and countered it before they could advance.

Six hours after the battle had begun, it was over and the Aetherians had regained a fourth of the occupied land. The forces under Regulus and Valtias had ignored the mandate to hold their line and surged against the enemy under the confident instructions of the Huntsman of Adamos. Unlike those under his command, Yurieth was not satisfied with merely wounding unto death the enemy and taking them as prisoners, he had seen enough of their cruelty during his missions that he made sure he forever killed every Xelusian he encountered. There would be no reviving to finish healing for those who faced him.

His parents were hugging when he walked into the foyer of the Winter Castle. Yurieth bowed to them. He could sense they were shocked to not be able to sense him or his emotions. “Mother, Father. I have come to check on my brother.”

Adamos eyed him cautiously. “Come or were sent home for disobeying the mandate of the King.”

Yurieth’s jaw ticked slightly at the reprimand, but a ghost had more emotional presence to the pair of oracles than he did. “Father, in the last century, the Xelusians have killed half of the Aetherians in the occupied territory while diplomatic negotiations go nowhere. The king is wrong, and we need to drive these murderers from our world.”

“You doubt my commands, young Yurieth,” King Xerxes said from behind him as Yurieth felt a shadow slither up his spine. A familiar feeling that he often got in the presence of Metariel, the presence of someone who used blood magic.

“No, my King,” Yurieth responded smoothly, bowing with coy glancing at his parents, “I blame your advisers for the weakness of the course of action the war has taken. The Guardian Xanthes of your own house perished in the latest battle that nearly claimed my twin. Just as the initial invasion took your twin and your father. It is time we drive the Xelusians from our soil and take the war to their world. We have allowed the Berserkers and Blood Mages to drink the blood of our people for far too long.”

At first, they all could feel the King’s rage, then oddly the King laughed. “Oh, Lord Adamos, I like your eldest. He may only be a huntsman, but he has fire and ambition. Tell me, lad. How would this be accomplished?”

Yurieth sensed the trap, so he treaded careful, but spoke plainly unlike his oracle mother had taught him. “We make it too costly for them to stay, my king. The Guardian Regulus has several strategies planned, but they rely on allowing the enemy to revive to return and fight another day. If my Huntsmen and I were allowed to treat their commanders and mages as the rabid animals they are, the Xelusians would soon desire to leave our world. They only enjoy dealing death, not dealing with it. ”

King Xerxes stood stroking his beard, contemplating the bold, young Huntsman’s suggestion. “So, you want to go hunting, do you, Lord Yurieth?”

Queen Xena had come out to stand by the Lord and Lady of Adamos. Yllumina shook her head slightly in the negative, but Yurieth ignored his mother. Instead of answering, he asked, “Do you wish me to want to go hunting, my king? It is what Huntsmen are made for, is it not?”

King Xerxes laughed again; it was a hard cruel sound. “Your son is as bold as you are Adamos but he lacks your tact. Lord Yurieth, after you have attended to your brother, send word to the palace and I shall meet with Guardian Regulus about these plans to regain our world and take the war to the enemy. Perhaps we will even consider making the war effort more costly to our enemy.” The King turned and bowed his head slightly to Lady Yllumina and Lord Adamos, holding out his hand to his queen. “We will take our leave of the House of Adamos.”

They bowed to the Royal couple and remained silent until long after the door closed. As soon as the King’s flyer launched, Yllumina whirled on Yurieth, her eyes blazing with indignant fire.

“What was that? Are you proposing we forever kill our brothers? That we violate the mandates of the Light to show love and forgiveness?” She hissed at him.

“Mother, you have not been on the battlefront, nor on Xelusia. How can you offer mercy to those who spare none, not even for their own people? Every Aetherian who falls runs the risk of having their blood harvested and being forever dead. Abrieth only lies in his room recovering because I and my huntsmen forever killed those who caught Xanthes’ battalions unprepared. I will not regret what I did to save Aetherian lives nor anything I will do to save Aetherian lives. Let the Xelusians drink the blood of their own sons and daughters as they do on their own world,” Yurieth snarled.

Adamos laid his hand on Yllumina’s arm to silence her next tirade, “You have been on Xelusia and seen how they live?”

“Yes, Father, I spent ten years there with Meteriel and one of the Amazoni warrior women who lived here in exile. The ruling class of the Blood Mages are parasites, feeding on the blood of the lower classes. Their planet is overpopulated and running out of resources, they are breeding the survivors in the occupied lands like cattle and sending them back to their world as a blood source, because there is no power left in the blood of their lower classes. After they bleed them until they forever die, they send out the bodies as ground meat rations for the poor to consume. They even harvest from their own population to feed those in the slums. And don’t get me started on the sexual depravity with which they treat their children, even newborn babes are not safe from the perverse desires of their ruling class.”

Yllumina gasped in horror at her son’s revelation, and his mind showing her the images of the horrors he witnessed. Tears ran down her face and Yurieth felt his heart hurt. Reaching out, he took her hand, “I am sorry to tell and show you so harshly, Mother, but the war cannot be won through diplomacy and prayers. The Xelusians have succumbed to the Darkness, blood lust and madness, they will not be saved.”

Yurieth then looked at his father, “You should have told her what I found, Father.”

Adamos shook his head slowly, “I would not have my beloved burdened with such horror. You should love your mother enough not to have done this.”

“My mother is stronger than you think,” Yurieth snapped.

“I know more of her strength than you will ever know, she is burdened enough without your hatred and need for retribution heaped upon her heart.” Adamos argued back. “You are falling into shadow, Yurieth, a path you will not find it so easy to come back from.”

“Sometimes you have to become your enemy to destroy them,” Yurieth quoted Meteriel.

"Darkness cannot defeat darkness. Who told you such nonsense?” Yllumina demanded.

“My mentor Meteriel, a former Master Assassin of the Blood Brotherhood of Xelusia.”

Her look of shock turned to one of betrayal as she turned to look at his father with horrified golden eyes. “You are letting a Blood Assassin train my son!”

Yurieth took the moment of their argument to go to his brother’s room.

Abrieth looked pale, as he slept. A beautiful young healer sat beside his bed, holding his hand and glowing faintly golden with Healer’s magic.

“You must be the infamous Yurieth,” the healer said quietly before he could retreat. “Your mother and brother have told me quite a lot about you. I must say I am surprised at the darkness I feel in you, Huntsman of Adamos.”

The warmth of the glow of the healer soothed some of his anger and made him feel at peace for the first time in forever it seemed. “I am afraid you have the advantage, my lady.”

A pair of eyes the color of morning glories held his silver ones for several heartbeats. “I am Lady Roserae of Athenos, my cousin is the queen.”

Yurieth’s breath caught in his throat as she reached up and tucked a silk strand of auburn hair behind her ear. The creamy color of her skin was so different from his Amazoni lover. She felt of gentleness like a spring breeze, and she felt of hope and love, like sunshine after a frigid night. Things he had not known since long before he left home. “It is my honor to meet you, Lady Roserae.”

“Perhaps or perhaps not, your mother and my cousin have arranged for us to be joined. It seems our 500th birth anniversaries are only days apart. In a little over a century, we will be wed as is our duty to our houses,” she announced disapprovingly.

Yurieth’s jaw dropped, it was his first uncontrolled reaction in decades. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were aware,” she added bitterly.

Yurieth narrowed his eyes at her, “You’re in love with someone else.”

Roserae’s eyes never left his, “Yes, I loved once, but he died in your stupid war.”

“My lady, it is not my stupid war. We are defending our world, our way of life.”

She snorted derisively, “Then why haven’t you... defended us and defeated them? Why do the blood drinkers still walk on Aetherian soil and harvest the innocent from the soil of my house? The King makes speeches and the Guardians make promises, but nothing changes. And every year, thousands and thousands more die and do you know why?”

She got up and stalked toward him and he could smell her scent of wild roses and patchouli. It made him feel light headed, while the look in her eyes made his heart heavy as she poked him in the center of his chest. “Because warriors... like... war... Excuse me, Lord Yurieth, I am going to have a break. Your brother is awake and eavesdropping on us if you’d care to make your flimsy excuses to him.”

Roserae huffed out of the room as Abrieth chuckled weakly. With her glow gone, Yurieth suddenly felt the emptiness returning.

“She is perfect for you,” Abrieth taunted.

Yurieth scowled at him. “Did you know about this?”

“Actually brother, I did not. I suspected that Mother was considering her as a match for one of us, but I did not know which one of us would be the one to deal with her fury.” Abrieth groaned as he tried to sit up and Yurieth bent to aid him. “She really does hate everything to do with the war.”

“Who was this lover she lost?” Yurieth asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Not her lover, her brother,” Abrieth said sadly. They were silent for several minutes before Abrieth added, “Thank you for saving my life and my men.”

Yurieth gritted his teeth, spitting out his anger with his words. “It was a waste of life. If Xanthes had listened when I sent Danen to him, the whole battle could have been preempted and lives saved. What good is it to see how the battles will shift if those in command are fools?”

“They do not have your gifts, brother. Only Regulus can see things as you do,” Abrieth reminded.

Yurieth snorted. “Don’t tell our parents I have gifts; you’ll kill them with the shock.”

“Don’t be so hard on Mother and Father, they are truly worried for you or they wouldn’t have picked that adorable healer for you,” Abrieth taunted.

“You mean the wild rose with thorns.” Yurieth answered and Abrieth gave a good-natured chuckle.

“She does smell amazing. But I know she isn’t the one for me.”

“And pray tell, what makes you and our mother feel she is the one for me?” Yurieth demands amused, “Intuition? Visions?”

“No, just good old-fashioned observation. She looked at you and you looked at her and both your heart rates changed. Also, you let her snark at you with barely a rude word in defense. If I didn’t know better I would ask who you were and what you did with my brother?” Abrieth taunted as a tint crept up Yurieth’s neck.

“She is quite lovely for a rose, but wild vines can be strangling.”

“Admit it, big brother. You like roses with thorns.”

Later that afternoon, Yurieth walked through his parents’ winter home, seeking his father. He noticed Lady Roserae looking out at the snow. She shuddered and reached up to finger the flower in her hair, it had been preserved through magical means.

“I take it you do not like the cold climate of the high mountains, my lady?” Yurieth asked.

“No, my lord. I prefer to live in a place where the breeze is warm and the flowers bloom for most of the year.” She retorted almost resentfully. “Not in the flowerless, frozen wasteland.”

“There are flowers in the mountains, my lady,” Yurieth pointed out.

“Really?” She sounded disbelieving.

“Yes, my Lady. Alpine Fluer in the high meadows. We also have wild briarroses in the castle garden in the summer, but one must be careful, they have thorns.” His eyes held a slight glint of mischief .

“All roses have thorns, Lord Yurieth. It is their nature to be sweet and painful.”

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