The Alchemist: Dawn of Destiny
Page 52
Eilith pointed with a dainty finger toward a rickety gate. “There! The wagon will fit perfectly!”
Jaric helped steer through the portcullis, with Grildi bringing up the rear on his horse. When they were safely through, he hopped up into the driver’s seat and accepted the reins. He looked over his shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no sign of pursuing soldiers.
Grildi rode up next to the wagon, peering over the side at his unconscious friend. “You just hang on, Ryris. We’ll get you fixed up.” He moved forward, keeping up with Jaric’s fast pace. “Where to, Boss?”
Jaric pressed his hand to his forehead in an attempt to block out the blinding sunlight. He scanned the horizon, finally focusing on the crystal clear waters of the ocean. Bringing a finger up, he pointed to the northwest.
“The only place that’s still safe. Zaiterra.”
EPILOGUE
Isum Dran burst through the doors of the king’s court, not caring whether or not he was following proper procedures.
The sovereign rose from his throne, surprised to see his old friend. He bounded down the small set of dais stairs. Running toward his compatriot, he wrapped his arms tightly around the man and hugged him for the first time in decades.
“Isum Dran! That was quite an entrance!”
The weaponmaster pulled back and out of the king’s embrace. “Sire, I bring terrible news from the Vrelin Empire.”
The king dismissed his attendants and listened intently as his longtime advisor regaled him with the horrors of what had transpired on their sister continent. The monarch’s expression saddened as he wrung his hands together.
“…and they all perished. He’s gone mad—and Lyrax is at the heart of it.” Isum twirled his ring on his finger.
King Symond nodded knowingly, unwilling to show any sign of fear. He knew this was the time to be strong. “Never in my life would I have imagined we’d be having this conversation, old friend.”
“I as well. I helped to raise that boy. How could I have missed the signs? How could I have allowed this to happen?”
The monarch grasped Isum tightly by the shoulders, steadying him with a calming touch. “With a maniac such as Lyrax,” he shuddered as he uttered the name. “…nothing can be assumed. Nothing can be expected. Roann was likely doomed long before you took him under your wing.”
“Sire, is it safe?”
Symond silently led his friend from the throne room. They walked through the modest palace of the Zaiterrans; the people milling about unaware of the grave news their sovereign had just been given. Stepping into a small side hallway near the back of the castle, away from prying eyes, the pair ducked into an unassuming room, closing and locking the door behind them. The king activated a hidden passage, and lit a torch before they descended down a dark staircase. At the bottom, they headed down a narrow shaft, supported by sagging wooden ceiling beams. It was barely tall enough to accommodate the two men. They followed the passageway for several minutes, the damp air smelling of dirt.
Finally, the old friends came to an iron door, no visible lock or handle. A brass placard was bolted to the surface, a small geometric indentation no larger than a pea embossed into the metal. Isum Dran approached the door and raised his hand, bringing his ring close to the switch. The crystal shard embedded in the silver glowed, and he pressed the ring against the metal, causing the entire placard to flare brilliantly. Tendrils of energy cascaded over the door. Suddenly, it swung open on its own. Dran motioned for King Symond to cross the threshold.
They emerged into a small, natural chamber, cut from the rock eons ago by rushing water. Symond snuffed the fire from the end of his torch, leaving the two men bathed in shimmering light.
“It’s safe, old friend.”
Isum Dran felt both relief and dread at the same time. He just stood there with his ally and stared out at the brilliant crystal before them.