[Novnarwen]

“I’m tired of your manipulation and controlling. Now, at last I’m in control, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.” As Pelin spoke, it seemed that time stood still. Tarkan could not believe what he witnessed. Had Pelin been in league with the King all this time? Clearly, Pelin hated him. For what reason, he was unsure. The Priest admitted willingly that he had been harsh with Pelin from time to time, but that this could be the source of such hatred Pelin expressed, he simply couldn’t understand.

Sinking to the floor, as he could not bear sitting straight, he tried to recall Pelin’s moves over the last months. There was nothing.. or.. maybe.. Tonight! When Pelin had left early in the morning, he had said he would be back in a few hours, and yet, he had not returned before nightfall. Shuddering, he realised that Pelin’s deception had been carefully planned. Tarkan himself had been a part of a game, a game, he hoped, that had yet to announce a winner.

He stared at Pelin for a while, not knowing what to say. There was no way out. Pelin was about twenty years younger, and could easily block the tunnel entrance if he tried running towards it. He could even call the orcs to come assist him. No, he needed to keep Pelin, keep him down here as long as possible.

“I d-d-don’t und-d-derstand. You’ve d-done all of this b-b-because you’re ang-gry with me?” Tears were in his eyes as he said this. Stuttering madly, he held on to the thought of his freedom if he managed to out-manoeuvre Pelin in some way. “This was the only opportunity we had to set things right!” he called. He felt the energy in his body leaving him, draining him from the will and strength he needed to overcome this. What bothered him the most was that the situation he found himself in, was a situation he’d never pictured himself being in. Treachery! Treachery! Pelin had deceived him!

“That is what I am doing. I’m setting things right.”

“What you’re doing is wrong! How can you betray me? How can you in good conscience send me to certain death, when you know that I was the one who raised you!” There was no power in the Priest’s voice as he spoke, only words of a desperate man trying to convince his executioner to let him go. “I’ve been… like a father to you.“

“You have been no such thing! You have laughed at me when I’ve tried my very best, humiliated me in public to promote yourself and thus, I have been excluded from meetings ….” There was a slight pause before he continued, “and banquets.”

“The banquet? The arrival of the Emissary?” The absurdness of this event seemed never to end. “That’s over six months ago, and I was there as the half-brother of the King more than a Priest,” he muttered. Was Pelin holding everything he could recall as unjust against him? For over six months he had plotted his destruction, and for over six months he had hid it. How blind I have been, he thought, the only person I have come to trust with time, has betrayed me.

He heard the yelling of the foul orcs above his head. He felt hatred, but not towards Pelin. His feelings were directed towards the evil that had poisoned Pasthia over six months ago. Pelin was a weak person, more so than he had ever realised. Power and control had been what Pelin had striven for, and when not receiving it from Tarkan, his friend had been driven to madness by the Emissary. He wondered if Pelin had ever met the King. It didn’t matter though. Nothing did. He bit his lip. He was wrong. The importance of Zamara and the Royal Children’s successful escape mattered. They might not have believed his story. Eventually, they would however.

The hatch broke open.

“Take him to my master. He wants him alive,” Pelin said instantly. The coldness in his voice gave everything away. If it was up to himself, Tarkan would be dead already. Watching Pelin, he saw him smirking as he continued; ”If he tries anything, you’re welcome to do whatever you wish. Make sure it’s painful. Understood?”

The moment he was dragged up from the floor, and the stank from the orcs filled his nostrils, he prayed in the name of Rae that his only hope, the Priestess and the Royal Children, had made it.