The Final Storm (Part 3)

Aren's Curse

Ralem winced as Aren’s boot crashed into his face. “You are no brother of mine,” he snarled. Then he turned to the Queen. “My real brother had no twin. I’ve known him all my life and I swear upon it. And since that demon possessed him, he’s been given special powers. Dark magic. Evil. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. He’s a danger to all of us God-fearing men and women.”

Ralem tugged against the chains and the soldier behind him pressed his boot harder against his back, forcing him to the ground. “Aren? You-you turned me in? How could you?”

Aren turned, his hungry eyes glaring into Ralem’s own. “How could you?” he demanded, his face twisted into a snarl, “How could you place this curse on me?” he pointed furiously to the green sign. “You have no idea what it feels like, to eat and never be full, to starve day and night, for your stomach to cry out in pain in every waking hour!” He stalked closer to Ralem, pulling at his clothes, revealing his chest. Ralem’s eyes widened as he took in the skinny, starved chest and protruding ribs and swollen stomach. “Look what you’ve done to me!” Aren demanded, his eyes wild, “Look what you’ve done!”

Ralem blinked hard, sorrow gushing from deep in his heart. “Aren, Aren. You know I would never do such a thing to you! You are my brother, I-”

“DO NOT CALL ME YOUR BROTHER!” Aren screeched, and for the first time it occurred to Ralem that his brother might not be all sane. Aren lunged for his brother, gnarled hands reaching, crooked fingers flailing for his brother but guards grabbed him around the middle, jerking him away from the scene.

Ralem’s head dropped to the ground and he tried to swallow what he had just witnessed. He could still hear his crazy brother, screaming and yelling, cursing Ralem’s name as he was dragged down the hall. It broke his heart. Ralem had always been the big brother, been there to put an arm around his brother when Aren was crying over a skinned knee, been the strong one when Aren needed the support after their mother died, been there to coach him when he was nervous about asking Isabella to be his wife. To see him in this state just cracked his heart in two.

The Queen broke into his thoughts, “Who is he, then, if he’s not your twin?”

Ralem looked up blearily, “What?”

“I said, who is he?” The Queen said, enunciating ever word as if he were stupid.

Ralem knew he absolutely couldn’t tell the truth. If the Queen knew Jaydon was a dragon, and a big one at that, there would be no stopping her from putting them in her infamous Game Trophy Room. But nothing would come to his mind! He couldn’t make up stories that well on his feet!

“He really is my twin but we were- uh- separated at kind of birth because my family was too poor to support both of us. He was raised in a forest village and I just recently found him. My dad did not tell us because he died shortly after.  That’s why Aren doesn’t know,” he said lamely. “Oh, and I’m not a witch, for the record. Just cursed by one.” He shifted his shoulders. That’s got to be the record for the worst story I ever made up, he thought.

The Queen a penciled eyebrow “So how do you explain the tattoo? The witch sign?”

“We both wanted a tattoo and made the mistake of getting it from-”

The Queen waved her hand impatiently, “That sign seals your fate. Take him away.”

The guards grabbed him under the armpits and jerked him back, dragging him out of the room. “Wait!” he cried, “I can explain! I’m not a witch!”

The Queen shook her head. “Take him in for questioning.”

The Rider’s face paled, “No!” he struggled against the guards, nearly towing them to the Queen. “Please, your majesty, I beg of you!” Crack! He got too close to the Queen and a guard neatly nailed him on the head. He slumped to the ground and both men dragged his body out of the room.

The Queen smiled. This should be interesting.