The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  “What sort of things can you do?”

  “Shoot some fire, move things, stuff like that. My abilities are miniscule at best, you know.”

  “Can you show me?”

  Alric looked at the falling sun almost annoyed that he might not make it back before dark. Silas could feel a slight tension, but was too curious about the use of magic to care what Alric thought at the moment. This could be used as a completely different aspect of fighting that his grandfather was never able to teach him on Earth.

  Alric moved to the middle of the path away from Silas and closed his eyes. “It takes deep concentration for those who are not masters,” he said. “Some Sorcerers can do tremendous things with magic, things I’ll never be able to do.”

  Alric stopped speaking and at that moment, several fallen branches came flying from the woods in all directions. Dead leaves began swirling until there was a small tornado, about as tall as Silas’ leg, of dry brush right in front of Alric. It was a surreal moment for Silas. The tornado grew higher until it reached ten feet above Alric. He directed it to a spot only a few feet away. The air surrounding them whooshed past, flapping their clothes and hair. The leaves rustled loudly as the wind cycled. The whirlwind soon began to shrink until it was only as tall as Alric himself and then every piece set itself in a neat pile as if they were ready to make camp for the rest of the night. Alric opened his eyes and grinned at Silas. For an added measure, Alric opened his gloved hand and inches above his palm sat a small fireball about the size of a walnut. He threw the ball at the pile and it immediately erupted in flames. It was a perfect campfire.

  “What would have taken twenty minutes took only seconds with magic,” Alric said. He began to walk and Silas soon followed, wide-eyed and stunned at what he had just seen. They left the fire in the middle of the path to die out on its own.

  “Humans are not natural magic users,” he continued as they walked. “That’s why it takes such hard concentration for me. A person like Inga, the girl you’ll meet, was training with a true Sorcerer until a couple of years ago. Erellens, however, are naturals and it usually comes to them pretty easily, but they too have to nurture their power. If they don’t practice often, they will become rusty and less effective.”

  They followed the winding path through the woods as the sun fell completely behind the hills in the distance. Questions still flooded Silas’ mind, some of which could not be answered by Alric. Silas decided to keep them to himself for the time being so he wouldn’t come across as a nuisance to the man that would eventually try to help him if he was true to his word. There was no way to be sure of that yet.

  The two walked wordlessly until they finally came upon a wall made of stone in a clearing in the heart of the woods. It was secluded enough for them to go unnoticed, yet close enough to the city limits of Canor to go in whenever they desired. The towering perimeter wall kept out any sort of intruder that may be curious enough to wonder what was happening behind the barrier. The wall stood at least twelve feet, leaving no way to see in except from the top of the nearest tree. It was a small fortress that Alric’s group had built for themselves, something that would take a considerable amount of force to overcome. Silas was impressed.

  When they came closer to the entrance, Alric stopped Silas and looked at him with a warning stare, his devilish features almost frightening in the moonlight.

  “We’re a pretty tight-knit group, Silas. Don’t be offended if they are less than cordial to you.”

  This did not help Silas’ uneasy feeling. He didn’t really want to be there in the first place, much less to be treated like he wasn’t welcome. However, he was willing to risk some insults and trouble as long as he could get to his grandfather soon. No one but Silas knew that Kaden had been taken by the Stühocs. Whoever else may be able to help needed to know as quickly as possible.

  Alric stood next to the double door, pulled his gloves off his hands and pressed them against a square section of the stone. The square glowed green with acceptance and the doors slowly began to open. He looked back at Silas and motioned him to follow.

  Inside the walls there were nearly a hundred torches lining the perimeter, lighting the entire fortress. All kinds of armor, weapons and supplies were neatly arranged in designated areas. Obstacle and training courses were evenly spaced throughout the complex.

  To the far right of the small stronghold was what Silas figured were the living quarters. It was a three-story log cabin, and looked to be adequate to house fifteen people or more. Silas imagined that one of those rooms awaited him and he would be allowed to sleep the night away peacefully. He wasn’t going to hold his breath for it. He had no idea what the others were expecting and he really wished he would be told the details of the job that he was supposed to do. For all Silas knew, it could be something that could get him in a lot of trouble. Or killed. With the opportunity presenting itself like it did, however, he didn’t know what else to do but accept Alric’s offer. Silas suspected that what they wanted him to do was something out of the ordinary or particularly dangerous or he would have been told the details by now. He would have to keep a close watch on all of them and observe what they said and how they said it. Surely he could refuse. Alric didn’t seem like the type to kill someone for refusing to do a job, did he? The only Human he could think that might have been like that was Marcus or Theron, and they were only that way because the Stühocs had controlled them. At least, this is what Garland had told him.

  Alric led Silas past an obstacle course and two men sparring came into view. Their swords clashed together as sweat dripped on their arms and foreheads. They were in some sort of pit that seemed to have been made for duels. It was similar to pits he and his grandfather had dug in the past. There were boundaries set and one could not leave the pit or he would be disqualified from the duel. Each pit was dug so that it came above the opponent’s head and was square in shape with about a twenty-foot distance from any side. It wasn’t impossible to leave the pit in a fight, but the opponent would have an easy swipe at the other’s backside if he tried. The only other one Silas had ever seen was the one he and his grandfather had made together. He called the type of duel or game, Slicer. It was a crude name, but Silas had always liked it and it seemed fitting. To see the pit and instantly recognize it for what it was made Silas feel that he was exactly where he needed to be.

  “Slicer,” Silas said, feeling more relaxed.

  Alric turned instantly with an eyebrow raised. “You’ve been out of the gauntlet for only a couple of hours and you know what Slicer is? Tell me how that’s possible! Last I heard there was nothing of it on Earth.”

  “It’s just something one of the guards was talking about before we went into the gauntlet,” Silas lied. “This is where they fight?”

  In the pit there was a giant man swinging a large broadsword at a much smaller man with a much smaller sword. Neither was gaining the upper hand, but neither was going for the killing strike.

  “That’s right,” Alric said. “Slicer is a big sport in Marenon, especially with the new king. He likes to put prisoners up against each other so they can fight to the death like gladiators or something. The original rules are that the fighters play until the other is disarmed.” Alric shrugged. “It’s had its moments of death, no doubt. But it’s fun all the same.”

  “I bet,” Silas said, fully remembering the thrill of his first and only victory against his grandfather.

  Alric shouted. “You two nitwits quit flirting with each other and come meet our guest!”

  The two stopped and pulled themselves out of the pit. The big one shoved the smaller one down when he tried to come out. Alric laughed and muttered “idiots” under his breath. When the two were finally in front of Silas the large one extended a hand and said, “The name’s Coffman. I guess you’ll be helping us with our little mission?”

  “Ah, I’m not sure yet,” Silas said, wincing at the crushing handshake the beast of a man had just given him.

  Alric inte
rjected quickly. “Uh, nothing’s been decided yet, Coffman. I told him we would all talk to him about it before we asked him to make any decision.”

  The two gave Alric a stern look. This did not make Silas feel good about what was to come. He could see that they were hiding something from him, by the way their eyes shifted from each other to the ground. Silas determined that the night would not go by before he knew what was expected of him in the coming days.

  Coffman was almost twice the height of Silas and at least four times the muscle. His brown hair was short and his muscles protruded from every part of his body. The smaller man was thin and had bright blonde hair. A pair of slightly pointed ears protruded from his head like an elf from fairytale stories. His face was clean-shaven unlike the thin-bearded Alric and scruffy Coffman. His green eyes flared bright in the torchlight. He glared at Silas and gripped his weapon firmly, his knuckles turning white, as the others waited for him to introduce himself.

  After an awkward few seconds Alric motioned to the man and said, “Silas, this is Lorcan Zamire. I’ll go ahead and say he’s obviously not too happy about you coming aboard with us, but I hope that will change in the next day or two,” he said, his eyes screaming for Lorcan to calm himself.

  Silas’ concern was not so much that Lorcan seemed to hate him, but that Alric had implied Silas would have to be there for a few days. He really didn’t want to be with this group any more than he had to be. He just wanted to finish the job so they would help him find his grandfather.

  Lorcan kept on staring until he finally spoke up. “Have you ever even held a weapon?” he asked.

  If he only knew, Silas thought. “I can take care of myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Lorcan, “because where we’re going won’t require you to defend yourself.”

  “Lorcan,” Alric said sternly.

  “In fact,” Lorcan continued, “there will be no danger to you at all!

  “Lorcan.”

  “You will be perfectly safe where we’re going.”

  “Lorcan, that’s enough! When we take Silas inside, he can decide for himself what he will do. It’s not up to you, me or anyone else but him.”

  This gave Silas a little comfort. At least Alric sounded as though he was giving Silas an out if he needed it. Alric motioned for them to all go into the cabin. Lorcan lagged several paces behind thoroughly chastised by his superior and loathing Silas the whole way there. Silas wasn’t sure where all the aggressive anger was coming from, but Alric had warned him nonetheless.

  The cabin was not an extravagant building, but it was comfortable. What little decoration it had seemed overshadowed by the empty, wooden walls in every room. It didn’t look as though much time was ever spent in the house. Perhaps these people were very busy, or perhaps they were the type to give little thought to the aesthetics of where they slept. Silas concluded in his mind that it was probably a little bit of both. They all sat down at a long wooden table when they entered through the front door. Coffman sat nearest to Silas and Lorcan took the seat on the far end. He leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table and his eyes smoldered with animosity as if he would like nothing more than to see Silas burn. Alric stepped into the kitchen and quickly returned with a brown jug and several cups in hand. As he poured the drink into each person’s cup, Silas realized just how thirsty he was after his long day. He leaned over to smell it and couldn’t help but wince as the alcohol fumes burned in his nostrils.

  “It’s Viper’s Mead,” Coffman said, taking a swig. Even Coffman’s face grimaced slightly as the fire trickled down his throat. “They call it that because of its bite, but I don’t think it’s all that strong. The other guys are a bunch of wimps.”

  Silas almost laughed, but suppressed it. Of course he wouldn’t think it was strong. He could probably hold five times the amount of liquor as any man in the room. Silas had been too young to drink on Earth, so he knew the effects would be much stronger on him. That is, if liquor worked the same way in Marenon as it did on Earth. He assumed that it did and decided to let his cup sit at a safe distance.

  “Where’s Inga?” Alric said.

  As if she were waiting for someone to ask, a woman opened the door in the back of the room and strolled toward the table where they sat. When Silas’ eyes lifted to see who had entered, it was as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He closed his mouth sharply in hopes that she hadn’t noticed his gaping jaw. With his heart beating like a mallet, he wondered if he had inadvertently taken a swig of Viper’s Mead, but he soon concluded he had not. Her black, straight hair fell past her shoulders, and her tight, subtle muscles showed she was not weak, but not masculine in any way. Her intense eyes bore into the newcomer and he felt as though he might melt under her gaze. She couldn’t have been much more than a few years older than Silas.

  “Is this him?” she asked.

  Coffman said nothing, Lorcan nodded and Alric spoke.

  “It’s him if he wants to be. I was just about to tell him what the job is.”

  She took a seat next to Lorcan in perfect view of Silas. Silas didn’t particularly like being talked about as if he were not there, but he let it go. He was in the presence of absolute beauty.

  Alric took one last swig of his drink and sat up, tearing Silas’ eyes away from Inga.

  “I’ll tell it to you straight. We’ve been hired to break into the caves of Timugo to steal a valuable artifact.”

  Silas swallowed and glanced at Lorcan who seemed jittery. Inga was calm, her elbows on the table and fingers interlaced, resting on her mouth. Coffman had his head down, sharpening one of his large daggers.

  “This job pays well. Really well, in fact,” Alric continued. “The plans, we can go over tomorrow. But it’s really as simple as that.”

  “Who are these people that we’re stealing from?” Silas asked.

  “The Anwyns of Timugo,” he answered. “They are much like Humans, but have a greenish skin color and are quite the barbarians, savages even. They are peaceful if left alone, but vicious when bothered.”

  “How dangerous is the mission?”

  “It’s dangerous,” Alric said without hesitation. “I can’t guarantee anything except that if we all come out alive with the artifact we will each be paid 10,000 coins.”

  Silas was the one now staring at the table, lost for an answer.

  “We have a good plan for obtaining the artifact and getting out alive. We’re really good at this kind of thing.”

  “How much is 10,000 coins in Marenon?” Silas asked.

  “It’ll get you through a better part of a year. You’ll be starting out much better than most, I can assure you.”

  “Is a year the same as on Earth?”

  Alric shrugged. “More or less,” he said. “Give or take a day or two. The seasons and times are almost identical.”

  Silas was getting frustrated. “You don’t get my point. I’m asking this to show you how little I know. I just died less than a day ago and I’m now being asked to risk my second chance for money?” He shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “You’d be a fool not to go with us, Silas,” Alric said.

  “I don’t know,” said Lorcan. “Maybe he’s smart enough to know he can’t do it.”

  Alric flashed Lorcan a glare that quickly made him shut his mouth. He turned back to Silas. “Listen. You will make good money and I have given you my word that I will help you find your grandfather if he is alive.” He placed his hands on the table. He was only moments from begging it seemed, and the fact that he would help him find his grandfather was hard to ignore. Silas knew it would take too long to find him without any help. These people were professionals. They knew their way around Marenon. It was a difficult opportunity to pass up.

  “I saw you in the gauntlet. You went through the middle tunnel; I’ve seen you defend yourself.”

  “What’s the artifact?” Silas said. He had already made up his m
ind, but he wanted to know.

  “Artifacts, actually,” Alric answered. “Coffman, Inga and myself will be going after something of a more secret nature, far from your position. You on the other hand will be going after the staff of Uriah. It’s a magical staff and in the hands of the right individual, it will turn into any weapon that person needs. Both objects are extremely powerful and our employer will pay a hefty price for them. I would take them for myself if it were only a one-man job.”

  For a moment, no one said a word. Then Silas looked up at Alric. “You really think you can help me find my grandfather?”

  “If he is in Marenon, I can find him,” he answered with confidence.

  Silas didn’t much care what artifact they were going after. He didn’t care that Alric wasn’t disclosing what the other item was and that one was just some staff. He needed to find Garland. He waited and then nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  Alric breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “You won’t be sorry, my friend. This is a good move for you.”

  With that, Lorcan stood out of his chair, shoved the back door open and went out into the grass. Within seconds, Coffman and Inga silently joined him. There was no “Welcome aboard!” or “We look forward to working with you,” nothing. Silas wasn’t sure why the group was so angry at his joining them. Perhaps they didn’t want to share the money with a fifth person or maybe they hated the idea of including a fifth wheel in their close-knit group. Whatever the reason, Silas needed to find his grandfather.

  “They’ll come around,” Alric said. “Tomorrow we prepare, then we leave the next day. Come on and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

  As Silas stood, he could see out into the grass where the three others had gone. Inga stole a look back and for a brief moment their eyes met. Alric should have had her ask Silas to join them. He wouldn’t have hesitated.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was almost Christmas and Julian Hobbes had just spent his meager allowance on brand new ice skates instead of presents for his family. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but it was what his older brother Morgan had done. Morgan told him that if he said anything about it he would beat him up again. Julian was only six years old and his brother was ten. His threats were enough to scare Julian to silence. That, and he really couldn’t wait until after Christmas to skate on the pond down the road from their house. It was almost a half-mile away so there was no way they would be seen. Besides, their father had left early that morning to run his Saturday errands, so this was the perfect time for the two of them to try it out.