Arnan kicked at the ground, his expression even tighter than before. "I know how the king found out."
Everyone turned their attention to him, and Arnan drew a deep breath. "When we made the trip to Olgetha to deliver the apple harvest, there were soldiers. I overheard one of them talking about the king's search for a young man with the ability to wield magic. I knew they were referring to you, Eramus, and I…"
He ran his fingers through his hair, keeping his eyes on the ground. Eramus didn't need more words to understand. Arnan had sold him out; he'd told Delran exactly where he could find him.
Arnan shook his head, finally meeting Eramus’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Eramus. I’ve acted horrendously towards you, and this…I will live with this the rest of my life. Blinded by my own hatred, I feared you would use your magic to claim a place of leadership, take away something that mattered to me. I see now how selfish I’ve been. The soldiers knew where to find you because I told them. Delran found out because of me, and I would take it back if I could.”
Eramus had no time to react. Morzaun screamed and rushed forward. His hands wrapped around Arnan's throat and the two of them fumbled to the ground. "You! You will regret this!"
Arnan gasped and attempted to pry Morzaun's hands from his neck.
"No!" Eramus shouted. "Leave him alone!"
Eramus raced towards them, but a flash of blue light sent him rolling across the meadow. Zeeran laughed, his aura hovering in orbs over his palms. "You'll never learn."
Flailing arms moved behind Zeeran. Arnan had knocked Morzaun off of him and freed himself from his grasp. They took turns throwing punches and dodging each other's attacks.
Blue light streaked across his vision. Eramus conjured his shield just in time to protect Kieran from Zeeran's assault. "Get out of here!" said Eramus, his breathing already burdened by the exertion. "Go back to the village. Warn everyone about the soldiers!"
Eramus groaned under the force of Zeeran's spell. His shield wouldn't hold much longer. "Please, Kieran! You're not safe here!"
Kieran's hesitation only showed on his expression for the briefest of moments. "I'm not leaving you here to fight them alone. Not your father and not the army of Izarden."
Zeeran ended his spell, but only long enough to whirl his hands and create dagger-shaped shards. The sharp particles hurled towards them. Eramus shoved Kieran to the ground. The daggers shredded his shield and sliced through his clothing and across his skin. Eramus screamed as the searing pain spread throughout his body, writhing on the ground with his arms wrapped around himself.
Kieran rushed to his side. "Eramus!"
Eramus was only vaguely aware of Zeeran's approach as he muttered the incantation to the healing spell, but his cousin's words fell over him like an icy wave. "Pathetic. I don't understand why he insists on you joining us. We don't need you."
Blue light encompassed his cousin's hands. Eramus gritted his teeth as his skin stitched itself back together. He was out of time. Zeeran moved to fire his spell.
Another flash of light flickered in his peripheral. Before Eramus could process what he saw, the burning ball of fire landed just a few yards shy of them. The explosion sent Zeeran hurtling backwards and Kieran toppling over. A cloud of smoke funneled into the air as the grass caught ablaze.
The army of Izarden stood at the opposite end of the meadow—at least a thousand armed men and two trebuchets ready for battle. A second ball of fire flew through the air with a tail of flames. It crashed into the forest behind them, igniting a thick oak into a raging blaze.
Eramus caught sight of Zeeran running through the smoke. He grabbed Morzaun—who kneeled next to Arnan—by the shoulder and yanked him to his feet. "We need to go! I won't stand against an army for you!"
Morzaun ripped from his hold as Arnan fought harder to break free. Zeeran turned his attention to the army, conjuring a spell and firing a wide burst of energy across the meadow. The soldiers lifted their shields, but the wooden piece did little to protect them, and most lay flat on the ground after the blue mist had dissipated.
Delran's voice boomed from the edge of the opposite forest. "Fire the trebuchets! Aim for the traitor!"
The surrounding grass ignited when another flaming boulder smashed into the ground. Zeeran’s shield protected him and Morzaun from harm, but the smoke sent them both into a fit of coughs. They moved further from the burning grass, leaving Arnan behind.
Eramus glanced at the massive army on the other side of the meadow. They were preparing the trebuchets for another attack. Delran sat on a chestnut steed wearing heavy metal armor, his sword outstretched before him. There was no mistaking Sytal’s son, even if Eramus’s memories of his uncle were few.
"We have to get to Arnan before they launch another attack," said Eramus, turning to face Kieran. He nodded, and together they ran through the maze of fire and smoke.
They found Arnan flat on the ground, his blank expression staring up into the clouded sky. Kieran fell to his brother's side, his voice flooded with panic. "Arnan! Wake up, you stubborn fool!"
Blood drenched the man's tan tunic on his right side, a deep gash visible through the long rip in the cloth. Eramus's gaze flicked to his father. He stood two dozen yards away, coughing into his elbow, a blood-stained dagger in his hand.
A sharp ache stabbed at Eramus’s heart as he returned his attention to the man who lay still before him. Arnan had treated him horribly and even betrayed him, but Eramus held no anger towards the man. The shame in his eyes upon his confession had been sincere. Arnan resented his behavior, and although Eramus didn’t have the opportunity to say the words, he forgave him.
Kieran leaned forward, burying his face into his brother's chest and clutching handfuls of his red-stained clothes with anguished sobs.
