Rise or Burn

Chapter Twelve

"Your great-great grandfather?" Arlin asked. Andy was still staring at the portrait. His eyes were fixed on the amulet that hung over the neck of the man in the portrait. The man was young, older than either Arlin or Andy, but still quite young. Early to mid-twenties. He had short, closely cropped, dark mahogany brown hair. His eyes were a dark ebony colour, same as Andy's. He was smiling, in the portrait. He had a secretive smile, the kind that said he knew a great deal more that he'd ever share. Nothing like Andy's smile. Andy's smile was revealing, it said everything his words were trying to hide.

"Yes," Andy replied numbly. "He must have lived here before..." his voice trailed and he cleared his throat. "I wonder what happened to the mansion," he not-so-slyly changed the subject. There was something Andy wasn't telling Arlin. A great deal, Arlin had figured. He didn't press. There was a great deal he wasn't sharing with Andy as well.

"The Valek raided and burned down most of the homes of the nobles who opposed them. They killed everyone who stood against them and imprisoned anyone suspected of conspiring against them," Arlin explained in the same tone one would give any historical fact. This was his history. Ugly as it may be.

Andy winced before turning from Arlin. He settled down on the edge of the old broke down bed and coughed when dust puffed up. He was silent for the longest time then he finally asked, "Why'd you run?"

The question surprised him for a moment then he asked, "Why did I run? From home?"

"Yes." He wasn't looking at Arlin. His eyes were drawn to his clasped hands in his lap. "You're royalty. You could have anything you want. You had everything."

"Everything," Arlin scoffed. It'd never felt like that. It always felt like nothing. Nothing important. Nothing real. Nothing his. Truly his. He turned from Andy and faced the painting again. He met the man's dark brown eyes. "I'm adopted," he told Andy. "I don't remember much from before I was 'princess Kitarliah'. I was three when my mothers adopted me. Apparently my parents were dignitaries living out in Teri'are. They were killed by rebel witches. I can't remember them. I've tried. I wish I could." He sighed. "I've known my mothers longer than I ever knew my biological parents. They raised me. I don't know how to justify running away without seeming ungrateful. Most people would think I am. Like you said, I had everything. Anything I could want. Just nothing I ever needed.

"I don't know. I just never felt like I belonged. You saw my brother. He's the perfect child. I got tired of being compared to him, I guess. Feeling inadequate. Like I'd never measure up. I'm not my brother. I never wanted to be. They just made me feel like who I am would never be good enough." He turned back to face Andy. Andy's eyes were on him now, peering at him filled with something raw and overpowering. Arlin felt exposed. He could feel his face heat up and turning red. He cleared his throat. "I found a file in my mother's study a few weeks ago. It mentioned I have a still living grandmother in Teri'are. That's why I'm heading there. I just want to talk to her. Maybe learn what my parents were like." Maybe find out if they could do what I can do, Arlin left out.

Andy got to his feet. "I lied to you," he said. "Well, not lied. There are some things I may have left out."

Arlin smiled. "I know. You're not as cunning as you think," he said. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. Just because I spilled my guts doesn't mean you owe me the same."

"I want to tell you." Arlin nodded and Andy went on. "I'm from earth," he started. "My sister and I were brought here when our aunt was kidnapped by the Wythynians. They were looking for the Foxton amulet," he pointed to the amulet in the portrait, "an artefact my family have been entrusted to protect for the last century. I still have no idea why the Wythynians want it but according to the people who rescued us: if the Wythynians were to get ahold of the amulet the consequences would be dire. The people who rescued us are from an island in the Gwammean Sea, hidden and protected from the rest of Omora by a magical shield. It's the last safe place for witches and mages.