Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1)

by Azaria M. J. Durant

  Hamish takes the three satchels from her and tosses one to each of us. “Thank you, my lady,” he says, slinging his own over his shoulder.

  “Please, call me Marianna,” she says with a bashful smile, sliding a stray ringlet of hair behind her ear. “It's less formal.”

  “If you wish it.”

  “We're set to go now, my prince,” Jambeau says.

  Hamish acknowledges this with a nod and turns back to Marianna. “We will continue on from here. You must go back and cover for us.”

  Marianna hesitates. “I know it won't be safe, but I still want to come with you.”

  “You mustn't. If anything happens to me, Valamette will need an heir to rule them. I wouldn't want the throne in anyone's hands but yours... Marianna.” He smiles. “Besides, father will kill me if he catches us.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don't be so dramatic. Nothing's going to happen to you.”

  “That might be the case,” he replies softly. “But I will not have you harmed again.”

  She sighs. “Alright. But I will not see you hurt either. After all, we are betrothed.”

  It seems to be a wry joke between the two of them, and they both grin. Then she turns to me and smiles. “You stay safe too, Ealdred. Watch over Hamish, will you?”

  I return her smile. “Certainly.”

  Hamish pretends to scowl at me, but a smile twitches the corner of his lips.

  Lady Marianna turns to say a formal goodbye to Jambeau, however, he is staring off into the woods in the other direction. So she turns and disappears back around the bush.

  “Come on,” Hamish says. “We have little time to lose.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  W e stand between the two gargoyles at the entrance to Arnon Castle, looking once more at the ancient battlefield before us. The air has the same dark feeling of death that it had the last time we called.

  “Not much has changed,” Hamish remarks in a whisper. “I hope that means that no more creatures have been lurking about since we were here.”

  “Let's keep our voices down anyways,” Jambeau advises uneasily.

  Hamish nudges my elbow and points past me. “Perhaps we should try that door again. Bellator seemed to think it was the way in.”

  As soon as Bellator's name is out of his mouth, he looks as if he regrets saying it. Both of us glance back at Jambeau, who merely blinks, examining a pile of corpses.

  “Yes,” I mutter. “But let me go first.”

  We start toward the foundation of the tower, our footsteps echoing through the courtyard despite efforts to muffle them.

  “How did she die?” Jambeau asks suddenly.

  Hamish and I exchange looks.

  “It was a heroic death,” Hamish says.

  “Was it painless?”

  Hamish glances at me. He doesn't want to say that it wasn't.

  “There was a beast,” I explain hesitantly. “A serpent, larger than anything I have ever seen. She fought bravely with remarkable skill... but it got her in the end.”

  He grimaces and runs a trembling hand over his whiskers.

  “There was nothing that you could have done,” Hamish says gently.

  “Yes, there was!” Jambeau cries, and I wince as his voice echoes off of the skeletal walls. “I could have gone with her when she asked me to! I could have given this up instead of leaving her all alone like I did! Then she’d still be alive.”

  Hamish frowns. “You don't know that.”

  “Yes, I do,” he says, and thankfully, his voice is quieter now.

  “Come now,” the prince whispers, “if you keep this up, we'll all soon be joining her.” He tries to sound jocular, but his words ring a little too true.

  Jambeau falls sombre and silent. We are almost at the door now, and from where I stand, I can see that the handle is smashed and the door is ajar. The snake must have broken it when it was flailing about trying to get Bellator off of its back.

  “Halt!” The word pierces the air like a thunderbolt from behind us.

  The three of us spin around in unison. King Leonel stands in the gateway, his sword drawn in his hand. The blade of the sword glows faintly blue, and I realize that he must be holding Stormcrest. Behind him, little red dots glow out of the darkness, and I can make out the huge shapes that accompany them.

  “What are those?” Hamish breathes.

  I swallow, trying to keep my voice calm. “Ezixs. Don't have time to explain. On my signal, get to the door as quickly as you can. Do you hear me?”

  Both Hamish and Jambeau nod.

  Leonel steps toward us, the click of his boots echoing throughout the courtyard. “Hamish!” he calls. “Hamish, listen to me. Come here at once, my son.”

  I can't help but feel that the 'my son' was a gibe at me, because in all my time in the palace, he has never once called Hamish 'my son' to his face.

  Hamish falters, but doesn’t respond.

  “Now, son!” Leonel orders.

  My heart stings as if a dart were sent through it. “You should go, Hamish,” I say, struggling to get the words out. “This isn’t your fight.”

  “Yes, it is,” Hamish replies. “You are my friend, and I'm not leaving you to face my father alone!”

  “We insist,” Jambeau says, taking my side. “Ealdred and I are in enough trouble now as it is, and neither of us would see you harmed. Not at your own father's hand.”

  But he remains stubborn. “It's my fault that you're in this mess. If I hadn't been too blind to see my father for the tyrant that he is, I would have known that Ealdred wasn't safe here, and I wouldn't have pressed for him to stay. I endangered him, and so I must help him out of danger.”

  “I'm not asking you to do that,” I respond.

  “But how am I supposed to prove myself if I am never given the chance?” he cries, and I can hear desperation in his tone. “I need to prove myself! I need to show them that I’m worthy!”

  “Hamish!” his father – that is, our father – calls, agitated now. “I am warning you, come now!”

  “That's your final decision then?” I say in an undertone.

  He nods.

  “Fine. We run now!”

  Turning, I take off toward the door as fast as I can, and hope that they are right behind me. I reach the door and push on it with all my might. It is large and much heavier than it looks. Hamish and Jambeau almost plough into me as they force themselves through the small opening. It begins to close as I try to pull myself in after them.

  “Stop!” Leonel cries, raising his sword in the air.

  Lightning flashes from the clear night sky and strikes his sword. Power glows from it as streaks of electricity rush up and down the blade. With a cry of rage, the king thrusts the tip into the stone ground. The stones erupt, exploding from the ground and creating an avalanche that rushes toward us.

  I pull myself inside just in time, and the door slams shut behind me with a thud, cutting out all light. Seconds after it is closed, the door rumbles with the sound of stones slamming against it. The earth shakes. I stumble back, tripping over something, and find myself on the ground.

  As the rumbling dies, I push myself to my knees.

  “Is everyone alright?” I whisper.

  “Yes,” Jambeau grunts. “Your highness?”

  “I'm alright,” Hamish's voice comes from right behind me. “Did you see what my father did?”

  “I did. So much for his stance against sorcery,” Jambeau replies grimly.

  There is a pause.

  “We’re trapped down here, aren’t we?” I say at last.

  “Yes,” Hamish replies. “We need to find a way out.”

  “Stay where you are for the moment,” Jambeau whispers. “I'm almost certain that I saw some sort of a drop as I ran in.”

  “We will need a torch,” Hamish adds.

  "I'll see if I can find some wood." I hear shuffling in the direction that Jambeau’s voice came from.

  A sudden thought occurs to me and I pull
the glove off of my right hand. Clenching it in a fist, I close my eyes, and concentrate on that icy chill that is always present somewhere inside of me. I open my hand, slowly but deliberately. My fingertips tingle with cold, and I open up my eyes. A small blue light flickers in the palm of my hand. The light swells until it forms a glowing ball that illuminates the room around us.

  It might have been larger in its former glory, but now, after the walls have all caved in, the room is the size of a large broom closet. There is a stone stairway leading down into a dark pit near where Jambeau is groping about on the floor. Hamish squints up at me, his mouth open in amazement.

  Jambeau stands up. “Convenient,” he says with a nod of approval.

  “So much for torches,” Hamish says with grin. “Now, let us find a way out of here.”

  “I think,” I say, “that our only option at this point would be to take the stairs, and quickly. I don't doubt that those ezixs will tear this place apart in no time and I'd rather be long gone before then.”

  Hamish and Jambeau glance at each other.

  “What exactly is an 'ezixs'?” Jambeau asks for both of them.

  I start down the stairs, and they follow me. “An ezix is a horrible creature that lives in the far north, in Gaiztoak. Because they live there, I'm almost certain they have to do Zeldek's bidding.”

  “You're almost certain?” Jambeau asks.

  I shrug. “That's really all that I know. This is the third time I’ve encountered them, and I haven’t had time to stop and ask their life stories on either of the other occasions.”

  The staircase continues to go deeper and deeper underground, sometimes twisting, sometimes winding, but always going down. It seems like hours before we finally come out into open space. After that, the staircase continues on without railings, stretching over bottomless ravines until finally ending at the entrance to a large cavern of dusty pillars. The floor glints with heaps upon heaps of bronze trinkets, which mostly consists of coins, but there are also plates, eating utensils, goblets, candlesticks, weapons, and countless varieties of other valuable objects.

  “Oh!” Hamish breathes. “If Valamette had access to this, the kingdom would never, ever want for anything! Zandelba would be furious!”

  “They would start a war over it, that's for sure,” Jambeau mutters.

  A cold breeze hits my face, and I hear that same unsettling, whispering voice that I heard in the tombs. “Don't touch anything,” it hisses, repeating its order four or five times before fading away again.

  I put up my hand. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Jambeau asks.

  “The voice,” Hamish replies, his eyes wide. “It said not to touch anything."

  “Then let's not,” Jambeau says, looking around cautiously. “Who knows what we may unleash if we do?”

  Hamish and I nod in agreement, but his eyes are still wide in amazement, and he looks around, taking in as much of it as possible. I watch him, and a smile twitches my lips. My own little brother. He looks so innocent, so childish, no matter what worries seem to weigh him down. Then a thought comes to me. If he and I are brothers, that would mean I'm not the only descendant of Lady Batuel here. He is too. He could also break the curse on the arrow. Is that why he could also hear the voice?

  If that’s the case, I wonder why Bellator never mentioned it, why Zeldek only wanted me. Why my father only cast me away.

  “Look,” Jambeau calls as we near the bottom of the stairs. “There's a door across the hall.”

  He points across the mountains of copper coins, and I spot a set of decaying wooden double doors. There is no path through the vast wealth to it. We stop on the bottom step of the stairs, which is littered with coins.

  “We'll have to walk over them,” I say. “I don't think that anyone will mind, so long as we don't take any.”

  They both nod, but I can see that they are uneasy. Gingerly, I set a foot down on the heap of treasure. The coins slip and clink under my feet, but the ground remains sturdy, and nothing jumps out to swallow me up.

  “It's fine,” I call over my shoulder.

  They start after me, and we all silently agree to hurry over the treasure. It is slow going, but we finally make our way to the other side. As we near the door, the coins begin to clear away, leaving just enough room for us to slip through. But when we have passed through them, we stop short. There, piled in front of us, is a sea of silver coins.

  “By the goddess!” Hamish gasps, awestruck.

  It takes us much longer to pick our way across this pile, but there seems to already be a path indented into it and we follow it to another set of double doors. When these are opened, even I have to be amazed. Before us is another room, only this one is full of gold and sparkling jewels.

  “This is enough to make gold worthless!” Jambeau exclaims.

  “And we have had this beneath our feet for how long?” Hamish gasps in amazement. “Father would kill for this!”

  I know what he is probably thinking. He could return with word of this and be called a hero. Once his country was wealthier than even Lavylli, the people would finally love him, and would practically beg for him to rule over them once his father was gone. He would rightfully be among the greatest kings ever to rule Valamette.

  As for me, all I would need is a handful of this, and I could live in freedom for the rest of my life! I would be lying to say that I'm not tempted.

  “Come on,” I barely manage to say, and we start across the glittering pile.

  We are all eager to see what we will find in the next room, and we practically run the whole way through the golden hall. But when the next set of doors is opened, my heart drops in disappointment. The adjoining hall is narrow and empty, and seems to stretch for miles beyond the light cast by the blue flame in my hand. Water trickles down the walls and gathers in pools on the floor. Moss and other such fungi sprout across the cracked stones, and my nostrils are filled with the pungent smell of earth.

  As soon as we have passed through the doors, they slam behind us, forcing us to move forward. Within minutes, my feet are wet, and I begin to feel very miserable. We travel like this for at least an hour before there is even a slight change in the walls. After maybe two hours, the smooth, cut stones evolve into rough stone that glitters like the sand on the seashore. Coincidentally, the air also smells strangely like the ocean.

  The passageway ends abruptly, and a large, rusted metal door bars our path. Although it looks to be made to keep things out, the door is unlocked and it opens very easily. We enter the small, dank, grimy room, and the door slams shut behind us. There is a grating sound, like a key in a lock, followed by a click. I turn back to the door, but as I do, the blue magic of my light is extinguished.

  I hold my breath and concentrate on the light again. It flickers up for a second and then goes out. But as it does, I catch a glimpse of a dark figure crouched on its hands and knees between us and the door, ready to pounce.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  M y hand flies to the hilt of my sword, but the creature assails me before I can pull it out. I am thrown back against the wall, and the ragged breathing of the creature wheezes over me, its foul breath hitting my face. An acrid, acidic scent oozes from the creature, like it’s been bathing in a tub of rotten lemons for a decade. Its hands grope for my throat and I grab its boney wrists, shoving it back with all of my might. It weighs much less than I expect, and I hear it slide across the floor to the other side of the room.

  “Ealdred!” Hamish cries, and I can hear the zing of metal as he draws his sword. “Are you alright?”

  Before I can answer, the creature is upon me again, pinning my chest to the wall with its sharp elbow and pressing a grimy hand over my mouth. I try to kick it back again, but this time it is prepared, and it dodges out of the way of my feet. Then it pushes on me with crushing force, digging its claws into my face.

  “Hold still,” its raspy voice hisses in my ear.

  I stop fighting.
>
  “Now,” it continues, “I will uncover your mouth in a moment, and you will tell me who else is here with you. Understood?”

  I attempt to nod.

  “Good,” it says, and uncovers my mouth.

  But instead of betraying the names of my friends, I blurt, “What are you?”

  It growls in annoyance. “Just answer my question, half-wit, before I lose my overly long-held patience!”

  Half-wit. There is only one person in all of Theara that calls me that!

  “Bellator?” I exclaim, joy flooding my chest.

  She huffs, releasing me. “You are stupid!”

  The room erupts with white light as she holds up the firestone in her cloak. Once my eyes adjust to the light, I see that it is indeed her. She is standing in front of me, and she looks terrible. Her hair hangs about her face in matted, grimy straggles, and her complexion is as pale as death. Her eyes are bloodshot, her clothing torn, and her armour is tarnished with a green and slimy substance. Her face is so gaunt that her cheekbones stick out; she looks more vicious than ever as she scowls down at me.

  “But how—” I stammer. “I— I saw it eat you!”

  She snorts. “Did you really think that I could be bested by a snake?”

  “I saw it eat you!” I repeat.

  “Which was the biggest mistake that it ever made,” she says with a crooked grin.

  “Um, Ealdred,” Hamish says hesitantly, and I remember that he and Jambeau are here as well. “Isn't that the girl that died?”

  Bellator turns to him, her sarcasm at the ready. “Well, if it isn't our little prince. Truly, I am impressed. And who’s the...”

  Her voice trails off as her gaze lands on Jambeau, who stares back at her, ashen faced. Mouth parted, his eyes widen with fear. His lips move as he attempts to say something, but no sound comes out. Her name, maybe? But no, it looked like something else.

  “You!” she snarls, starting toward him.

  She shoves Hamish out of her way, and I instinctively press my back into the wall.

  “You!” she shouts again as she slams Jambeau back against the wall. “You son of—”