by D N Meinster
“Roam each kingdom. Gather all the Keys.”
“To what end?” Slythe asked.
“To protect them from the Thalians that have stolen Kytheras’ Key. Find them all, my roamers, and keep them safe.”
The entire cave was silent, including Zeniri, who had ceased struggling. The thought of what they would have to do and why left them numb.
“Neanthal is imprisoned, but he is not gone,” Amelia advised. “The Door, the Parting, your slumber; these are not foolproof plans. They are preventative measures, but they guarantee nothing. It will be up to you to keep the peace. Can you do that?”
Yuurei dropped down and bent a knee. “Of this, I vow.”
Slythe mimicked him. “Of this, I vow.”
M’dalla followed. “Of this, I vow.”
Azzer did the same. “Of this, I vow.”
“Let me down,” Zeniri said. He glowered malevolently at Amelia as she lowered him, but he dropped to his knee as well. “Of this, I vow.”
“Rise,” she instructed. “Stand against the cave wall.”
They all did as they were told, though Slythe and M’dalla held hands.
“It is likely that I will not be here when you awake. Take your orders from the Prince. Do whatever it takes to keep Ghumai safe and keep that Door closed.” Amelia lifted up her staff, the light of it twinkling in the cave. “May Magenine’s light point you true.”
All at once, the feet of the Roamers transformed to stone. As the transmogrification climbed up their legs, the walls of the cave seemed to come alive. The jagged rocks reached out and grabbed the shoulders of each of them, pulling them into the wall as their bodies petrified.
When the process had completed, all five Roamers had become statues embedded in the walls of the caves. It would take a thorough examination for any visitor to spot their slight features sticking out from the rock.
They would keep. Amelia was sure of it. The real challenge would be facing whatever Thalians were wily and surreptitious enough to steal Kytheras’ Key. Would five be enough? Should she have included more mages?
This was no time to second guess herself. The Parting was about to commence as soon as she joined Hatswick at Wingless River. She’d done all she could. It would be up to the Roamers, and up to her great-granddaughter, to prevent Neanthal’s release.
A Note From the Author
Four books in. I wasn’t sure I’d actually get around to writing them, let alone have someone else read them. I mean, I assume someone is reading them. Otherwise I’m just writing these notes for myself. That’d be strange, wouldn’t it?
Technically, I guess I am writing these novels for myself. That’s what you have to do. Can’t expect anyone else to read them.
So if I’m writing the story for myself, does that mean I’m also writing these notes for myself?
I’m sort of blowing my own mind here.
Uh.
There’s one Kings of Ghumai book left. I might as well finish writing it, so you should read it when it’s available. It’s going to be called The Fifth Key. I just broke some news there.
You want to know when it’s going to be released? Sign up for my mailing list by clicking here. Or follow me on Twitter @dnmeinster.
I've also got a Tumblr page and an actual website.
I’ve also written some other books you might want to check out. One’s even nonfiction! So get clicking!
Until I write again.
– D. N Meinster
D. N. Meinster
Copyright © 2020 by D.N. Meinster
Cover Illustration © 2020 by eishiya
Table of Contents
Chapter One - By the Shore, By the Sea
Chapter Two - An Icy Welcome
Chapter Three - Tunsev Manor
Chapter Four - Lost to History
Chapter Five - Climbing Aboard
Chapter Six - Frost Urchins
Chapter Seven - Disarmed
Chapter Eight - Practice Session
Chapter Nine - Hunner’s Call
Chapter Ten - Another Island
Chapter Eleven - Nest
Chapter Twelve - Disembark
Chapter Thirteen - The Fifth Key
Chapter Fourteen - Thaw
Chapter Fifteen - Homecoming
Chapter Sixteen - Absence
Chapter Seventeen - Beyond the Door
Chapter Eighteen - Reunion
Chapter Nineteen - At the End of Oblivion
Chapter Twenty - Reaction
Chapter Twenty-One - Direct Contact
Chapter Twenty-Two - Tree of Remembrance
Chapter Twenty-Three - In the Presence of the Empress
Chapter Twenty-Four - Finding Versil
Chapter Twenty-Five - Unintentional Abandonment
Chapter Twenty-Six - Delayed
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Bellish Invasion
Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Final March
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Magenine's Children
Chapter Thirty - Inessential
Chapter Thirty-One - The Dungeons
Chapter Thirty-Two - Alliance
Chapter Thirty-Three - Awakening
Chapter Thirty-Four - To End All Battles
Chapter Thirty-Five - Late
Chapter Thirty-Six - Grief
Chapter Thirty-Seven - The Last King
A Note From the Author
Chapter One
By the Shore, By the Sea
The remarkable sounds of the Twilight Islands reached Aros Asilias’ ears before the entirety of the kingdom came into view. He’d never heard the stirring of the Unending Seas before, where gentle waves crashed into each other and created a nearly hypnotic lull. It was calming and exhilarating, and his eyes locked onto the waters as they became completely opaque.
White foam curdled on top of a rolling sea that was a deeper blue than his irises. None of the lakes and rivers could compare, and neither could the oceanic zone of Belliore. It sparkled in the afternoon sun and appeared to welcome him and his friends to this new land.
Beneath his feet, a familiar particulate coated his heel and rushed in between his toes. The sand reminded him of home, though this sand was lumpier and slightly damp. It also reminded him that his feet were bare. Since his sandals were long gone, and his boots were given away along with his armor, he figured he and his friends' first priority should be to find footwear, as he wasn’t the only one lacking.
Rikki Nasem was dressed in a loose-fitting silver cloak that stretched from her neck all the way past her ankles, though her toes were poking out at the bottom. Her magenta hair covered up the hood that sagged down on her back, and her pale skin reflected the sunlight almost better than her cloak. Tucked into one arm was a white furball with flappy ears and sharp teeth, and in the other was a lengthy silver rod topped by two silver wings, one on each side of the crystal that channeled her magic. The necklace hanging near her denhare was of a similar design.
As her green eyes passed over the ocean, Aros thought he saw an unfamiliar look cross her face: fear. That’s when he remembered that she’d been here before.
Doren Tunsev stood feet away from his girlfriend, a more mystified expression on his tan face that matched Aros’ feelings more than Rikki’s. He wore a cloak that was black on his right side and white on his left, and bronze boots that matched the armor that the layer of enchanted fabric clung to. A bronze shield embossed with the T-like symbol of the Five Kingdoms clung to his back, though his lengthy black hair covered almost half of it. And in his arms were two creatures he’d adopted in Terrastream: a miwolf and a mideer.
As he spotted Rikki’s apprehensive countenance, Doren’s dark gray eyes met Aros’ own blue ones. Aros gave him a shrug before running a hand through his spiked-up brown hair.
The squawk of a noisy gull sent them all on edge. Aros already had both of his golden blades with talon-like apexes out before he realized they weren’t under attack.
“Kwee!” the purple fuzzball th
at had wrapped himself around Aros’ waist with his tails called back as the birds glided away.
Aros sighed, letting his arms droop and sliding the clawblades onto the magnetic holsters on his back. His yellow cloak covered up the straps he had made, but the magnets were strong enough so that the swords could remain in place.
“You should keep those out,” Doren suggested. “Those birds could be Thalians.”
Aros stuck his tongue out at his friend and started petting the top of Mr. Kwee’s head.
“He should though,” Rikki stated with utter seriousness. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us here.”
Doren moved closer to Rikki. “You were here with Hatswick?”
She nodded but didn’t provide any further detail.
Aros watched Doren embrace her before his eyes returned to the sea. But he was no longer entranced by them. Instead, he was thinking of someone else; someone he’d like to hug.
“Where do we start?” Rikki asked.
Aros looked back at her. Was she asking him?
“I’m not the one with the Goddess’ voice in my ear,” she said.
“Right,” Aros replied, though he wasn’t sure how exactly he was supposed to get Her to respond. His eyes drifted from the sea to the shoreline, and back up to the patch of palm trees that decorated the sands. Aros had only seen drawings of such trees, though they were much less impressive than the Unending Seas so he didn’t waste much time staring. “Magenine?” He waited a minute and then called her name again.
“Great,” Doren grumbled before he looked to Rikki.
Aros, too, gazed at the Grand Mage for instructions.
“Of course,” Rikki said, acknowledging their apparent helplessness. “Let’s find someone to ask about the Key.” She turned away from them and began a trek away from the sea.
“We should also ask what island we’re on,” Doren said as he stumbled after her. “I intended to shift to Noon, but I don’t see any islands out in the distance.”
“Wait!” Aros called after them. “You need to teach me how to shift!” The cloak M’dalla had given him was uniquely enchanted so that he could shift from one place to another like any mage. But it was wisely suggested that Rikki teach him how she shifted before he tried it himself.
“Priorities, Aros,” Rikki shouted back at him.
Aros ran after them, ready to start begging her to teach him, but he was distracted by Doren. His friend had slowed down, and his face was already dripping in sweat.
“Too many layers,” he said as he set his pets down and began pulling at the cloak.
Rikki made her way back to them, as they had stopped in the shade of a palm tree. “Do you know why the Twilight Islands had the best climate? The ocean current kept the water around the Islands warm through every season. Even when it was Winter in Ghumai, you could sunbathe in Twilight.”
“It’s always warm in Kytheras these days,” Aros remarked.
“Desert will do that,” Doren replied as he finally pulled his cloak over his head. “I feel bad taking this off.”
“As soon as we get off these islands, you can put it back on,” Rikki reassured him.
Doren nodded as he carefully folded the cloak into a perfect square. He then rolled up the fabric into a tight bundle and subsequently swiped a finger along the armor on his leg. A slight compartment popped open beneath his knee, and he gently stuffed the cloak into it. As he closed it and stood back up, he gaped at his pets, who were chasing each other down the beach.
“I can’t put those two down,” he observed.
Rikki nestled with her denhare before setting him onto the sand. “Go on, Ji-Ji.”
As Aros watched Ji-Ji take off along the empty beach, he asked Doren, “Have you named your pets yet?”
“Nope. They’ll stay nameless until I can think of something better than Mr. Kwee.”
Aros tilted his head sideways. “Are you complimenting me or insulting me?”
Rikki pushed her staff into Doren’s face. “Don’t answer that.”
Aros gazed accusingly at Doren as he stroked the top of Mr. Kwee’s head. The fuzzball must not have wanted to play, as he stayed wound around Aros when he could’ve easily chased the other critters if he wanted to.
“Should we leave them?” Doren asked, anxious to move on.
“Depends if you think there are any sea monsters lying in wait in the water,” Rikki replied.
Was she being serious? Aros eyed the ocean, trying to see if he could make out any shadows beneath the waves.
“Oh, we’ve got worse things than sea monsters here,” a scratchy old voice floated through the air.
Aros flipped both his blades from his back and held them out defensively, while Doren had his shield propped up in front of his chest. Rikki’s channeling crystal was already as green as her eyes, her staff ready for a confrontation.
“Every time,” Aros whispered, awaiting the incoming battle. They couldn’t arrive anywhere new without a conflict.
As the trio stood at the ready, no one emerged from behind the palm trees. The voice had to have originated there, as there was only open space in all other directions.
“Show yourself!” Rikki demanded.
A man slid out from the other side of the tree trunk, his one good leg dragging along the other that was mangled and torn. He had both his hands raised to show his defenselessness, and his open pink shirt floated openly, revealing a lack of weaponry along with a hairy chest. A deck of stubble decorated his face, along with a crooked nose and sunburnt cheeks. Curly black hair fell down from the top of his head, though it was clear he’d started balding in places.
“Who else?” Rikki asked suspiciously.
Two more slid out from the trees, neither with their hands up. A woman with long brown hair and a skimpy green skirt stared daggers at Rikki. Her arms were crossed, but the spear on her back was within reach. The other was a young boy, no older than ten, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a fresh scar that covered his entire chest. He had a dagger on his belt but chose to leave it in place.
Aros wasn’t ready to put his blades down, but it didn’t seem like any of these three were in a condition to fight. It looked like someone had already beat them down and let them go. The child’s condition concerned him most of all, due to his complete hairlessness along with the recently healed wound.
“Care to introduce yourselves?” Doren asked.
“Funny to hear that coming from you trespassers,” the wooden-legged man responded. “I know every soul on these islands. You’re not from here. So where exactly do you call home?”
“It’s traditional for the ones at sword-point to answer the questions,” Rikki replied.
“But what you’ve got there isn’t a sword, missy,” the man said. “A mage, are you?”
Aros bit his tongue to hold back a chuckle. These three were not a threat, and besides that, they weren’t looking for a fight. It was a relief to finally reach a place where they weren’t going to be immediately under siege or placed in quarantine. He slid his swords back in place and stepped in front of both his friends.
“This is Prince Doren Tunsev of Kytheras,” Aros stated, waving a hand in front of Doren. “And this is Rikki Nasem, Grand Mage of Kytheras.” He pointed his open hand toward her.
“And who might you be?”
Aros placed a hand on his chest. “I am Aros Asilias, Guardian for King Halstrom.”
“Of Kytheras, I assume,” the man replied, finally dropping his arms. “And what brings three Kytherans to these islands?”
“Neanthal,” Doren whispered.
The man shuddered along with the rest of his party. “Don’t tell me we’re going to have to deal with him too.”
“What else have you been dealing with?” Rikki inquired.
“Let me not be rude,” the man replied. “I am Hunner Galath, Deputy Mayor of Twilight, and current Acting Mayor. This is my wife, Kula, and this is our temporary ward, Clayd.”
“Wh
at’s a mayor?” Aros blurted out. He’d never heard the word before, but he supposed it must’ve been of some importance.
Hunner ogled him like he must have been feigning ignorance. “You’ve never heard of a mayor? Do they not have schools in Kytheras?”
Aros could feel the blood rush to his face as the Acting Mayor made him feel like a fool. These Twileans were going to think he was an idiot now. It was not the best first impression to make.
“It’s an archaic word,” Doren spoke up. “I came across it in some obscure book once, but even I don’t know its exact meaning.”
Hunner heaved a wad of spit into the sand. “Maybe it's not surprising that monarchists would try to hide its meaning.”
“What’s monarchist?” Clayd asked in his youthful and innocent voice.
This caused Hunner to break into a fit of giggles that only Kula’s stern look was able to stop.
Aros was more confused than ever, but at least his friends had dropped their weapons to their sides as well.
“No one pays me to be a teacher anymore,” Hunner groused. “They barely pay me to be a Deputy Mayor. But everyone’s in a need of some learning, ain’t ye?” He glanced back toward where he had come before continuing. “Kytheras is ruled by kings, also called monarchs. They inherit the throne through blood or otherwise take it by force. Their creeds are absolute and cannot be questioned. And they rule until death. Not the way we do things here in Twilight. The people choose who rules them. We call this ruler our Mayor, and he or she is the one that gets the most people to vote for them. And by vote, I mean write their name down on a slip of parchment. The one with the second greatest number of votes becomes Deputy Mayor, as yours truly did two years ago. If the Mayor becomes incapacitated or incapable of performing his duties, the Deputy Mayor acts as Mayor until the actual Mayor is once again able or the term is up.”
Aros stared blankly at Hunner, trying to digest the sheer amount of new ideas he was putting forth. People selecting who ruled them? That idea hadn’t even been brought up in school. It wasn’t even discussed in private in Kytheras. The descendants of Aergo Tunsev ruled. That was not something that could be debated. It was a fact of life.