Montague ignored the insult. “I’ve been pondering many things for a long time. You were by Olivia’s side for a short time at Ikarus. You had many opportunities to take her, but you never tried. Why? You even saved her life back at the sack of Illyrium.”
“Patience is our strongest quality. In order to silently invade an enemy, you have to first get close to their leaders, then strike when they least expect it. But you were always watching, Montague.”
“Why would you fear an old man like me? I know what you, the host of the Nekrums, can do,” Montague said.
“Oh, and I know who your teacher is. Remember? You’re a wizard’s mage and I know what you are capable of. But unlike you, I don’t underestimate my enemy,” Demitri said.
Montague was glad to know that he gave off a strong impression even though he didn’t carry Burton’s spells and he wasn’t the wizard’s mage. But it would work to his advantage if Demitri thought he was. “What exactly makes us your enemy?”
“You’re preventing us from acquiring the Volpi gene.”
“If I give you Volpi blood, will you leave this planet?” Montague pleaded.
Demitri laughed. “I’ve just had a nice sip of it minutes ago. You misunderstand. We already have Volpi blood.”
“How? When? Was it from one of the children you abducted?”
“I never abducted anyone. I simply steered the horses after others loaded the wagon. I am no thief.”
“Taking someone’s blood from their own body without their consent is most certainly a form of theft,” Montague said.
“No really. I didn’t steal it. Someone else did and they put it right in my hands.” Demitri said, wearing a smirk. “Yes! Someone just smudged a drop of it onto a letter and placed it on the ground of unclaimed land. You didn’t know that we patrol every inch of these lands every night?”
Montague couldn’t believe how careless he’d been. To save Rayne’s life, he’d placed Volpi blood right out in the open at the memorial stone near The Ponds. Montague needed an emotional charge to ignite Rayne back to physicality. That was what it had said in A Wizard’s Guide. And The Ponds, being Rayne and Anna’s favorite place, held a special connection for him. But the letter in which he’d smeared Rayne’s blood was supposed to dissolve during the conjuring. Apparently, it didn’t. Whether it was a fault of his own or not, he didn’t know.
Demitri continued, “But what we are looking for was not in his blood either. A demon could never possess a miracle gene that can cure any disease.”
“What?” Montague half-laughed. “You think Rayne is a demon?”
“He is certainly no angel.”
Again, Montague was befuddled. He didn’t know what to believe. Demitri, the Nekrums’ host, could tell him anything and sound convincing.
“Until this planet is cleansed of humanity, we aren’t going anywhere. Then, we will colonize this world. Where are your translations of Gabriel’s Diary?”
“I burned them all,” Montague said, “so things like you would never get their hands on them. And no, I don’t remember any of it.”
“No. I bet you don’t. You will just translate them again. I need the diary decoded in order to recite the spells. The pig that cast the enchantment to repel me is locked away in the Illyrium oubliette. I need those translations,” Demitri said.
Montague knew he was referring to Burton. That was where he was this whole time, Montague realized; held deep in the underground ruins of Illyrium. “If you already have Volpi blood, why do you need my translations?”
“We acquired Volpi blood with Queen Alda a few hundred years ago. But her blood didn’t carry the cure. The gene must have been diluted among the Volpi line. That’s when we decided to kill all but one, hoping that the gene would coalesce back into the last carrier of Volpi blood. After we flooded Illyrium, Olivia was the last royal Volpi left. But the gene was still absent. That was what made us realize that there must be bastard children born of Volpi blood. We are still looking. And I’ll kill them one by one to find it. But the answer is in Gabriel’s Diary. With your translations, we need to look no further.”
“I’ll never help you.”
“Why does your allegiance lie with a man who has deceived you your whole life? Burton has disconnected you from the truth,” Demitri said.
“What are you talking about?” Montague remembered when Burton told him that he had kept something from him. Does Demitri know the secret that his sensei was going to tell him? Montague thought. If he does, Demitri would most likely tell him a twisted form of the truth.
For the first time, Demitri looked at Montague genuinely, like he did before the Nekrums possessed him. “Do you know how many times we’ve asked Burton to invite you to live with us at the Illyrium ministry? We all wanted you there; me, Belkin, Rosario, and Hopp. But Burton said no every time. He said that the farm was where you belonged. And now, you, the one he swept under the rug and left fending for himself, you’re the only one left that could bare his company. He is using you, Montague. You must see it.”
Before Montague could respond, Demitri’s pawns reported back to him, “The wizard’s body is gone, my lord master.”
Montague smiled. He knew they were referring to Rayne.
“Take Mr. La-Rose back to the dungeons,” Demitri said to his soldiers. “Raid and empty every home. Round up the women, children, and elderly to the market and chain the strong men to wagons and send them to the Illyrium oubliette.”
Demitri grabbed Montague’s arm with an abrasive grip then pulled him in close. “You will translate that diary or I’ll make you wish that you died when the Noahl River flooded and wiped away your home.”
The now silent, smoking flats reeked of death. At the top of the plateau, Indrid Cole’s recent home was being invaded. Once again, there would be no more capital of Men and, most likely, no more king.
“General!” Melborne shouted from the tree line.
Indrid was glad to hear his voice. The medical officer had survived. He laughed at the fact that a man with no combat training had survived the bloodbath. Indrid lay there out of breath, bleeding from his head, ears, and lips.
“What do we do now?” Melborne asked.
Indrid looked at the men standing around him who were waiting for his response. They were all tired, bloody, dirty, and clearly beaten; some much worse than others. There was only him and almost two dozen soldiers left. And they looked to Indrid, their general, to lead.
“We go to Grale. I must claim my throne. As the count, we will muster the Graleon army and take back Ikarus to free our brothers and sisters,” Indrid said with certainty.
Again there was no sign of Apollo. Indrid hoped that she had made it off on her own. “Good for you, my friend, and thank you for guarding me,” he said softly. It amazed him at how much his feelings towards the cat had changed.
“We’re with you, General,” a soldier said.
Indrid led them to the eastern sea docks to board a ship and sail to the island of Grale. As the isles of Mern hugged the southwestern edge of the mainland, the second largest island of Naan was seventy miles off the southeastern coast. With the highest mountains in the world, Grale’s headlands forced breaking waves off the rocky shores of its steep sea cliffs. The seas were rough. Waves whelmed into jagged rocks along the Graleon shores. It took the entire night to reach his homeland. He hadn’t stepped foot on these lands for a long time.
At the docks of Grale, Indrid and his men were greeted by armed soldiers wearing the same coal-black Graleon steel that he wore.
“I am Indrid Cole. We’re survivors of the battle for Ikarus,” Indrid began.
“Thank Gabriel!” the guard said, clearly recognizing him. “Are you in need of shelter—food—and clean water, my lord?”
“I just need to reach the castle,” Indrid said. He felt embarrassed, but he had to ask, “Which way?”
“Of course, my lord. It’s that way!” the man pointed.
Indrid could see the Graleon M
ountains from the shore. The kingdom sat within a valley that led to the castle tucked away in the crevice where two mountains met. “I remember,” he said.
“Do you need horses, my lord?” the man asked.
“No. We will be traveling by foot from here. Thank you,” said Indrid. He agreed to lead his men through lands he’d never traveled. When he’d lived at Grale as a child, he was only exposed to the city within the mountain—the castle. After surviving his encounter with deadly magic, he felt brave enough to lead. Indrid and his men scurried through the outskirts of the Graleon kingdom, undulating fields of high grass where nobody would notice them maneuver about.
After making their way through the brush, the towering doors of the mountain were before them.
An old man with an eyepatch approached, “My lord,” he said, bowing.
This man also recognized him. But he scowled at the rest of the soldiers.
Indrid stared at the giant stone doors that suddenly began to roll open. They had to be at least fifty feet tall, fifteen feet wide, and ten feet thick. Things had changed since he’d left years ago. He didn’t remember ever entering the castle this way. Everything had been rebuilt after the fires more than ten years ago when Indrid was sent to Ikarus.
“Is this how the count enters his castle? By stepping into darkness,” Indrid asked. Maybe it was a test, he thought.
“No, my lord, anyone can enter the mountain, but only a man privy to Graleon symbolism can reach the castle from here,” the man said, “You must prove that you are who you are, and to claim the throne of Cole, your blood must be pure. Sir Simon Atikan awaits your company in the count’s castle,” the man said, holding his arm out to the black space.
Indrid waved into the unknown at his men, “Bup, bup, bup!” the man muttered, “Only you, Indrid Cole, son of Arland, may enter to prove yourself a true Graleon.” He handed Indrid a torch.
When the doors shut behind him, Indrid saw a small lamp sitting next to the door. When he lit it, the candles mounted across the stone walls that surrounded him like a maze suddenly illuminated a hallway. It curved out in both directions with statues of deer mounted along the sides of the walkways. The deer was a cherished animal in Grale as it provided much of the kingdom’s meat. It was even on the Graleon shield.
Straight ahead, there was another door. But first he wanted to investigate the rounded hallway to see what was on the other side. And instead of another door on the opposite side, there was a spiral staircase leading both up and down. He walked around the other side and ended up back at the door he had first entered from outside.
There was no other choice: he would have to go through the door or take the stairs up or down. He chose the door. When he walked in, the room looked the same. He noticed nothing different about the room except it was smaller. It took him less time to make it around the hallway. He went through the door again and again, and it happened over and over. The rooms were the same as before. They only grew smaller. One more time he tried, but he got the same result: an even smaller room.
Indrid traced his steps back through eight doors and returned to the start. The stairway was his only other option. But there was another choice: up or down.
He went up first and the room looked exactly the same this time. It wasn’t smaller or larger. It was the same size.
The deer reminded Indrid of the Graleon shield and his lessons with Montague. Montague had urged him to learn the histories of Grale and the symbolism. He would hold a stitching of the shield up to Indrid and trace his finger from the outer edge to the center and say; in a room, within a room, within a room, there is a deer with thirty-six points guarding the castle. Indrid felt that he might have jumped to conclusions with his decision to publicly accuse Montague of being a mage. Maybe he was, Indrid thought. But considering that his constant lectures could help Indrid get into the Graleon castle, Indrid didn’t care. He realized now that Montague was only trying to help him.
“That’s it,” Indrid said.
Indrid again tracked all the way back to the beginning. “Now,” he said, “a room within a room, within a room.” He opened the first door and walked into a smaller room. Then he opened the next door and walked through. Next, Indrid counted the points on the antlers of the deer. There was only thirty. He climbed up one floor and counted again, thirty-one. So he walked up five more floors to the level that would have the thirty-six-pointed deer.
The hall led to a closed door with a stone pedestal standing in front of it. It had the outline of a hand at the top of the stone. Indrid placed his inside the imprint and felt a slight tingling in the tips of his fingers. Then, watching the pedestal glow, an intense aura surrounded his body as if some force was analyzing his soul.
Suddenly, the jewel-framed door opened.
When Indrid walked in, the room connected to the glorious Graleon castle. It was just like he’d remembered. Diamond chandeliers hung high from the vaulted ceiling. The massive antlers of a giant thirty-six-pointed deer remained secured to the count’s throne where he saw the dark knight, Sir Simon Atikan standing beside it. A handful of other people were there dressed in high-born cassocks looking on with joyful faces. They must be the council members, he thought.
The dark knight was like a myth to Indrid. He had heard stories about Sir Simon traveling to the edges of the world.
“Welcome, Lord Cole. I knew your father. He was a great man,” the knight said, bowing his head. “I am Simon Atikan. We have been awaiting your return.”
“As have I,” Indrid said.
“We are aware that Ikarus has been attacked. You must need rest.”
“No. There is no time.”
“Then what is first at hand, my lord?” Simon asked.
Indrid thought about this on the ship. He couldn’t ignore his heart. “We must find Anna Lott,” Indrid said.
“My whisperers have told me that Anna Lott is to become Von Cobb’s wife,” Simon said.
“The hell she is!” Indrid couldn’t contain his anger. His love for her was real, but he’d never had the courage to tell her.
“There is a letter from Ikarus for you, my count,” Simon said, bowing as he handed it to him.
The sender’s signature read King Demitri Von Cobb, lord of Men. The letter stated: If you bring Burton Lang to me from the oubliette of Illyrium, I will grant you the Kingdom of Ikarus. You can become the king of the world.
The words king of the world echoed in his mind, exciting Indrid’s deepest desire. He had always thought that if he were the king of Men he would make everything better. “We travel to the ruins of Illyrium first,” Indrid said. “There is someone there whom we need to bring with us to Ikarus.” Finally, Indrid would come face to face with the wizard who he had suspected was manipulating Montague; the infamous Burton Lang. “Ready the ships, we’re leaving at dawn.”
A STORM raged along the eastern shore of Illyrium Island, where the Graleon ship, captained by Count Indrid Cole, would dock, and from where he would cross the Great Flats and across the Origon River to Illyrium. But the winds pushed the vessel far south of where they intended to dock. They crashed into the frosted rocks lining the spillway of the mud lands of Ghord.
“No man has gone through these mud lands for at least a hundred years,” Sir Simon said. “It’s alive.”
“Does anyone have a better idea?” Indrid asked, hoping this path was avoidable.
“The storm is blocking us from the north, and if we go south to the edge of the mountain, we will be sacked by mages in the canyon hills before we could step foot on the ground. There is no other way unless we wait the night for the storm to pass,” Simon said, “It’s your call, my lord.”
Indrid heard the words, king of the world, again in his mind. He didn’t want to wait. Who knows how many people Demitri had offered the kingdom to? Indrid thought. What if someone else brings Burton to Demitri before he could?
The mud lands didn’t look terrifying. He wasn’t afraid of the moving trees and living-mu
d he’d heard about in stories. He had a Graleon army and Ikarus soldiers with him. “I am confident that men of our ability can make it through the mud,” Indrid said.
Sir Simon Atikan led the way. It was driest near the trees. They had lively roots that scavenged through the mud for recently deceased rodents or amphibians, and they sucked up hundreds of gallons of water every day. And it was easier to walk. But in the clearing, the first steps into the thick black water were deep. For the first few hundred yards, the army could step across the branches of toppled trees that littered the mud, reaching out from the water’s depth, but when the trees became more scattered, they had no choice but to wade into the shallow, muddy water. Carcasses of dead birds, fish, deer, and pigs, stripped to the bone, floated on the algae-covered surface. There were more dead things than living.
“Mimicking trees,” said Simon.
There were a band of swamp trees surrounding them that looked like sculptures of once living creatures. Ghord’s swamp trees had the most trunks, branches, leaves, flowers, and fruits out of any other tree in the world of Naan. And they celebrated death in the most beautiful way. The swamp trees here would root into the body of a corpse and grow into a botanical replica of that man or animal. Indrid recognized the image of a troupe he’d seen perform at the Graleon castle when he was a boy—The Great Calhoon’s Traveling Circus. Twisted vines and leaves portrayed every detail of each character down to the laces of their shoes and the buttons on their trousers. Flowers formed to depict the vivid colors of a mime’s painted face along with the outfits they’d worn. One tree posed like an acrobat swinging from a rope. Another tree stood tall, like a man on stilts. The flames of a fire breather were displayed by brilliant red and yellow leaves.
By dusk the light fog had thickened. The army had been treading through the mud for a few miles, their boots becoming heavier with each step. Indrid swore he could feel the roots of the trees moving under his feet. Simon was right. The mud land’s floor was alive.
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