Crossing Forbidden Lines (Guardian Series Book 2)

by J. W. Baccaro

  “Yes, word of mouth travels fast through Castle Volborg. As for Kelarin, she has been taken away to Lord Abaddon’s kingdom in the north for sacrifice during the festival of Dybbuk, a six-day celebration to the Gods Abaddon himself worships, Gods among the High Realms of Darkness. Many slaves are summoned there for that occasion but this time, I chose Kelarin specifically. There is no use keeping around an Elf who can heal the wounded, dying or sick…one who might try and aid he whom she cares deeply for. Talvenya analyzed her well and saw the depths of her mind. It’s unfortunate she will die a most brutal death, having her limbs torn slowly, eyes gouged out, her feminine members pierced and a hundred more horrors I dare not tell you. Because of the agonizing pain natural death normally takes any individual put through these terrors, but the Gods prolong the life as they will hers, causing both body and soul to linger until the evening of the sixth day as is custom to the sacrifice—and all this because of the healing she gave you.” He seemed to pause to gauge the young Nasharin’s reaction.

  Darshun felt his chest constrict and he strove to keep his breathing even as the High Wizard went on.

  “Asgothian scouts have also informed me that King Tanarokai and Queen Talvenya have retrieved the Air Crystal Element, last of the four and are on their way back as we speak. Lord Abaddon awaits them and it is only a matter of time before all the crystals are corrupted to darkness. Everything you have ever loved or hoped for will be gone. After your death, I shall keep your remains in this room for all creatures of the new world to see as an example—the last hero of the old world who failed. Take these things to your grave.”

  Darshun made no response except an agonized moan and a light trembling of his body. He did his best to hide his power, just like he’d done the very first time meeting the High Wizard. Seemed Levieth wasn't well at sensing energy levels, either that or Darshun hid it flawlessly.

  “I should be merciful and recast the spell to quicken your death. But I can see you haven’t got much longer before your body gives out entirely, so I’ll leave you in here to suffer and ponder your failures. You were not as wise as I’d hoped, neither as strong. Such a shame. Your race—truly is dead.” He abandoned the room, shutting then locking the door once again, the darkness returning.

  Darshun concentrated hard upon Levieth’s presence until he was far enough away from the Arion Chamber and then opened his eyes. “He’s gone, finally. Heh, father always said I was a good actor. I guess those three years of playing Warriors and Heathens with Elwin really paid off.” He jumped to his feet. “All right, I can sense no one else outside this door except a couple of guards, Cullach I believe. Here goes nothing…”

  Outside the door, the two Cullach stood, exchanging pointless words between one another when suddenly they heard a terrible rumble coming from inside the chamber.

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It cannot be the Nasharin—can it?”

  The rumbling grew louder.

  “What should we do?” one asked, taking a step back.

  “Get the High Wizard you fool. Run!”

  They’d only made it five to six feet when a wall of rushing fire came bursting through the door, melting the steel to liquid and then moving on to them, turning their bodies to ash. After the chaos settled, Darshun walked out now back in his normal state, avoiding the hot liquid still oozing across the floor. “Most assuredly someone will be coming here soon. Once they see what has happened they will no doubt search the castle for me. I must be quick. First, I need to get to that armory for weapons and armor.”

  Kaylis said the armory sat on the second level. Judging from the three sets of stairs they brought him up, he guessed it to be close. But it could take hours searching for it. Could be anywhere. Yet there is one who knows exactly where it is, if he’s still alive. Come on brother…” He closed his eyes and deeply focused his senses upon Kaylis. A smile came to his face. “Yes! He is alive, and not far from here. Finding him should not be hard. Hang on Kaylis, I’m on my way.”

  Following his senses, he quietly ventured down the long empty hall and then crept down the stairs, trying to avoid light whenever possible, remaining in shadow. However, little shadow existed for lanterns hung from the ceiling every ten feet or so, shining ever so bright. Continuing down the stairs, he passed the second level and came upon the first where another great hall began, eventually leading into a dozen other corridors going every which way. Remaining focused on Kaylis’ presence, he chose the correct passage, the one furthest left.

  Just then, there came a patrol of guards around the corner down at the other end.

  He darted around his corner and prepared himself. How many there were he couldn’t tell. Although not really a threat, he wanted to remain unnoticed for now, rather than having an entire castle of heathens chasing after him. He needed to be fast. When they came closer, he overheard their speech but was unable to understand. It sounded like nothing he’d ever heard before, perhaps Demonic.

  He squatted low and as the first one strolled around, he stealthily sprung up, grabbing him from behind and broke his neck. Before the others could absorb what happened, Darshun took the dead guard’s sword out of his sheath and slew four others with immaculate speed, piercing two in the heart, slashing another’s throat and walloping off the head of the last, its body thumping at Darshun’s feet. “I just had to go and chop off his head didn’t I?” he scolded himself, watching a fountain of black Cullach blood gushing out from the stump-like neck.

  He dragged the corpses aside and piled them up. From one of them he took leather armor, a double-edged sword and a helmet to make his passing through the castle easier, blending in. Trying to ignore the stench from the Cullach who previously wore it, he placed the materials on, sheathed the sword and then continued his way.

  He began passing cells holding Humans.

  There were many men, women and children whose faces showed weariness and sorrow. They looked upon him only for a moment before fixing their gazes back to the floor, accompanied by deep lonely sighs.

  Clenching his fists, knowing what they faced every single day. The bitter capsule given to sustain their bodies, the barbaric work they were put through, the beatings they endured and the many friends and family members they’ve lost, Darshun wanted to crush the enemies responsible for this madness. Sorely, did he desire the freedom of these people whose elders were taken from their cities while the younglings are born into captivity in an endless cycle of cruel slavery, generation after generation,

  Kelarin’s promise to the Humans about Abidan’s Guardian coming to deliver them from these terrors would indeed come true—Darshun being that Guardian or not, they would be free, one day and one day soon. He moved on coming closer to Kaylis, venturing around more corners and additional long hallways, strangely never passing another patrol. Finally, he stopped at a single solitary cell away from the others. He walked up to the bars.

  Not surprisingly, Kaylis already seemed to be waiting for him. “Darshun?”

  “It is I.”

  “But you are alone, and wearing armor, and—stink.”

  Darshun rolled his eyes. “Happy to see you too.”

  “I thought you were being transported here.”

  “I escaped. We’re getting out of here. Now stand back in the farthest corner and cover your face.”

  Kaylis did as he commanded.

  Darshun transformed. His aura caused a great light to shine down the hall, so he needed to be quick. Carefully focusing his energy so as not to harm Kaylis, he sprayed out two streams of fire, scorching six bars and melting them to liquid, then converted back to his regular state.

  Kaylis could not seem to fathom how easily Darshun accomplished it. The way he omitted and controlled the fire proved he held mastery over it.

  “Come on,” Darshun urged, “Take me to the armory. We’d best have Milandrith-made weapons if we’re to stand a chance.”

  “They will come in handy for you but
not I. I cannot transform. Remember?”

  Darshun hadn’t forgotten. It did seem strange, Kaylis, a Nasharin older than he unable to wield the powers of Transformation—what makes a Nasharin a Nasharin. At the moment though, it could not be helped. “No matter, let’s go.”

  Kaylis took him to a stairway and they climbed to the second level, then crept down a corridor. Should they pass guardsmen, Darshun would play it as if he was transporting Kaylis as a prisoner…Kaylis’ idea. At first, Darshun didn’t think it would work, transporting a prisoner at midnight? But Kaylis reassured that every so often, were certain slaves taken to either the Gershom Pits or the Sacrificial Room during the dark hours, another eerie factor about the castle. But strangely again, there looked to be no sign of a patrol...Sneaking around seemed almost too easy.

  Finally, they reached the armory. It stood at the end of the corridor with a band of Draconian guards standing watch outside the entrance, their musky lizard stench filling the hall.

  “What are you going to do?” whispered Kaylis, trying to keep up with Darshun as he fastened his walk.

  “Just remain to the side and stay quiet.”

  The guard’s dark yellow eyes were sternly upon them as they approached.

  “Soldier of Asgoth,” one said, “why is it you come here at this hour with a prisoner?”

  “I am not a soldier of Asgoth and he is no prisoner,” Darshun answered. “We are Nasharins in need of weapons.”

  After a bit of shock, they laughed hysterically, not taking him seriously. “All right, remove your helmet so we may look upon the jokester. Surely, we know you.”

  Darshun nodded as mundanely as possible and heeded their request. Long, honey brown hair swayed accompanied by a set of flashing steel blue eyes, his gaze dominating their laughter; for all recognized him from the Arena. “Greetings,” he said.

  Disoriented from fear, they were hesitant in drawing weapons. Giving not a second’s thought of mercy Darshun attacked, thrusting his sword into the chest of one, quickly retrieved it then swung to his left, then his right getting two more. Another attacked from behind, swinging a large battle-axe. Sensing the threat, Darshun stooped low the wind of the axe blowing his hair he kicked upward, striking the villain’s wrist.

  A cracking of bone echoed out and he dropped his axe, followed by an agonizing roar.

  Darshun jumped to his feet.

  The wounded Draconian unraveled his second weapon, a leather whip. He hurled it forward.

  As quick as lightning, Darshun reached out, catching it before the snap. He curled it around his forearm, getting a good grip, then pulled.

  The Draconian, still latching the handle stumbled forward.

  Darshun brought up his knee smashing it into the Draconian’s face, busting open his nose and cracking his left cheek bone.

  He dropped like a rock.

  Then Darshun leapt high, spin kicking a guardsman charging with a spear, the heel striking his temple.

  Now the last, wielding two long swords, rushed him frantically.

  Darshun engaged in a little duel with him, deflecting each blow, the clashing steel igniting sparks, then finally ended it by throwing a sudden kick into his gut.

  The Draconian crouched over from a lack of air.

  Darshun brought up his leg and smashed his heel onto his skull, pummeling him to the stone floor. With his foot still atop his head, he drove the sword into the center of his back, ending it. Retrieving the sword, the blade drenched in dark red blood, he stepped over the corpse to open the gate.

  “Look out!” Kaylis cried out, followed by the gushing sound of skewered flesh.

  Darshun turned around.

  A Draconian while gripping an axe, though standing upright and completely still, having a spear lodged through his back—driven in by Kaylis. Apparently the guard whose wrist, nose and check bone Darshun had broken, remained conscious and rose up to slay him.

  Instinct must have initiated inside of Kaylis, causing him to grab a spear lying next to another fallen guardsman and protect his Guardian. He pulled it out and the enemy thumped against the floor. Kaylis' hands were shaking, his skin pale. “I’ve never killed anyone before,” he whimpered. “He would have gotten you Darshun, he would have killed you. I ha—had no choice.”

  “It’s all right Kaylis,” Darshun spoke soothingly, removing the spear from his trembling hands, tossing it beside the corpse. “Look into my eyes, listen to my voice…you are not a murderer Kaylis. This is war and they are the enemy.”

  “I know, it’s just—well—I am not used to this.”

  “I understand that perfectly, my brother. Listen, I’m going to get you out of here tonight. Freedom is just beyond the corner but you have to listen to me, okay?”

  “You are my Guardian sent by Abidan, I will do anything for you, even kill.”

  ‘Kill for me?’ Wow, he really takes this guardianship seriously. Am I the only one with incompetence? “Come on,” Darshun urged at a loss for words.

  They entered the armory, one massive room having multiple corridors filled with thousands of weapons of every kind and style, mounted upon the walls, laid out on tables or encased within transparent boxes. Kaylis showed Darshun the section of Milandrith Metal, the armor, shields, axes and swords. There were also spiked maces, sickles, spears, knives and daggers—all forged from Milandrith; the magical presence from all of it…he felt strongly. Darshun picked up a sword and it and blazed with flames.

  “You can summon fire without transforming?” Kaylis asked.

  “Not exactly,” Darshun answered with a grin, causing Kaylis to wonder what “not exactly” really meant. Or what kind of power Darshun truly possessed. The flames died out. “Kaylis, these are amazing! Such craftsmanship indeed.”

  “I am not proud of it Darshun.” He lowered his head. “Many creatures have died from the weapons I was forced to make.”

  “And now, many enemies shall die as well, twice the amount. Take what you can, then we’re going after Kelarin.”

  Kaylis looked to him, his green blue eyes displaying sorrow. “Kelarin is gone, taken away to Syngothra.”

  “I know, we’re going after her, or at least I am.”

  “Oh? And what of the Wizard Crystals?”

  “I’ve decided they don’t matter anymore. Probably too late anyway.”

  “You know that for sure?”

  Slowly, Darshun shook his head.

  “Then we best find them instead of Kelarin. It’s more important. Kelarin herself would agree.”

  “I cannot abandon her to suffer the death that awaits. Levieth foretold how it would be, a sacrifice in some sort of celebration he called—”

  “Dybbuk.”

  “Yes.”

  “It means ‘Demons of Death.’ ”

  “Whatever it means, I cannot abandon her to that.”

  “Death will await the world, if the crystals end up in Abaddon’s hands.”

  “No, there is still another task I have, a task more important than finding the crystals.” Touching his necklace he remembered what else needed to be done, the destruction of the Unholy Altar in Abaddon’s kingdom.

  “I know what you’re speaking of but how will you get there without a guide?”

  “The Earth Wizard Olchemy was to be my guide.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t—know. Dead perhaps. But I can track Kelarin, which shall lead me straight into Syngothra.”

  “That land is haunted by more than just Cullach and Draconians. Unless you know the way Olchemy intended to take—you will never succeed in crossing.”

  “I must try.”

  “As Guardian you must do what is most important.”

  “Enough of this guardian talk and everyone telling me what I should do!” Darshun growled. “This time I’m taking my own path and making my own decisions!”

  “If Abaddon molds the crystals into his dark hands, our chances of surviving this war are zero to none. The eve of Saruinkai is dawn
ing. If you left for Syngothra now without a guide you will only get lost, or killed, and this war over. The Spell of Destruction would sweep across the world like a raging fire. The Dark would rule forever. But if we can steal just one crystal, Abaddon’s entire plan falls to ruins, buying us time to find you another guide into Syngothra to then destroy the source of all his power, the Unholy Altar. Then, and only then shall the Light win this war.”

  “Stealing the crystals won’t work. As long as they remain…the sorceries of the Dark grow and will eventually hunt us down. Last time Olchemy attempted to destroy one to end it all, but even that failed—perhaps led him to death. I sense his presence nowhere.” Darshun clenched a fist and punched the wall.

  Kaylis stepped away when noticing the stone cracking a little.

  Darshun however, stood oblivious to the damage, instead fighting his own conflicting thoughts. “If we just could have left for Syngothra from the very beginning none of this would have ever happened!”

  “I— understand,” Kaylis spoke, taking in a deep breath. “But Darshun, stealing one will delay the Dark’s efforts, comparing to how close they are to winning now. I’m sure that’s why Olchemy wanted to destroy one in the first place. Think about it, please?”

  Darshun sighed. “I have been thinking about it, and I know you’re right. But part of me desires differently. However, I’ve been listening to elders my entire life. It’s no different between you and I.”

  “Please do not compare yourself with me Darshun. You are the Guardian—”

  “Kaylis.” He glared. “Shut up with that.”

  “As you wish,” he answered, gulping down a mouthful of saliva.

  Darshun smirked. “Let us take what we can here and be off.”

  Both of them found fitting armor, chest pieces, gauntlets and greaves, girdles, daggers and swords—geared up like they were marching off into a great battle. Kaylis also grabbed a shield and Darshun some rope before abandoning the armory, stepping back over the dead Draconian guards whose corpses already started to stink.

  While they crept through one of the long empty hallways, Darshun stopped at a barred window they’d passed earlier. It stood above a river at the back of the castle providing a perfect escape, about a hundred feet down. Focusing power into his newly taken Milandrith sword, he sliced four of the bars off then tied the rope around the last, throwing the other end out, draping it down the side and just above the shorelines to the river.