“Are you sure this is ok?” Julian asked.
Morgan looked straight ahead and smiled as they walked through the tall grass. “It will be fine.”
“I’m just scared that dad will find out and I don’t want him to get angry again. He told us that the ice wouldn’t be ready until after Christmas. I think he might be getting us these anyway,” he said holding up the shiny new blades.
Morgan put an arm on little Julian’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Listen. Pop only said that because he hasn’t skated on an ice pond in years. He’s much heavier than us, too. Of course he should be worried about skating on it, but we’re much smaller. We’ll be fine!”
Julian wasn’t entirely convinced, but again, he always wanted to do what Morgan did and Morgan wanted to go skating. Julian thought of the punishment he would get if his father found out. He wouldn’t be allowed to go out to the pond for the entire winter and that would be after he used his belt to ‘tan his hide’ as he always threatened. He wasn’t sure if his father really would, though. Since their mother had died during Julian’s birth, Morgan said their father had grown soft … whatever that meant. When Julian thought about it, their father’s threats had always been empty.
They reached the pond and surveyed the area. There was no one in sight. Perfect. They quickly took off their shoes and replaced them with the gleaming skates. Julian had never felt more excited. He had been skating on the ice several times, but never with his own pair. He imagined that it would inspire him to become a great skater so that he could be good enough to play hockey. But he needed more practice. Once their skates were on, Morgan looked at Julian and told him to test the ice.
“I thought you said it was fine,” Julian said.
“And it probably is, but you always have to test it no matter how cold it is.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re lighter, dummy, now go!”
Julian reluctantly took his first step onto the ice, then the next. He then began to shift his weight back and forth until he was actually skating. This seemed to satisfy Morgan who then took off and flew past him. Morgan was better than Julian at everything and didn’t mind letting him know it. He came around for another pass and shoved Julian to the ice laughing hysterically and pointed as Julian sprawled helplessly.
“Hey!” Julian yelled, still sliding.
He got up and then continued to play ice tag with Morgan. They made their way out to the middle of the pond and Julian soon realized that even in such a simple game, he was no match for his larger brother. Over and over he was shoved to the ice. His clothes were covered in the white powder. All he wanted was one good hit on his brother. Eventually, Morgan agreed to give him one free shot to try and knock him down. Taking his chance, Julian charged at him with everything he had. When Morgan scooted out of the way in the last moment, Julian fell flat on his face into the ice.
“You cheated!” Julian yelled, as he rolled onto his back.
“You fell for it, you little twerp!”
Julian shifted himself onto his butt and looked up at his brother. “You’re no fun. You’re always mean.”
“That’s because you deserve it. You’re nothing but a little murderer.”
“What do you mean?”
“You killed mother, when you came out of her. Didn’t you know that?”
“I did not, take it back!” This was not the first time Morgan had told him this.
“I’ve always hated you because you’re just a little killer!”
Julian was on his feet now, moving toward his much larger opponent. He shoved into him, pounding with his fists. “I said take it back!”
“Get off me,” Morgan shouted.
“Take it back!” Julian said still pounding.
Morgan had all he could take and hot anger burned through his skin. “I said get off me!” With that he shoved Julian as hard as he could, landing him on his back once again. He kept sliding until he was a good ten feet away. The wind was knocked out of Julian and the jolt formed surprised tears in his eyes. After a minute he started to stand to his feet once again and then he heard it. A cracking. The noise made him freeze in place and Morgan stood at a short distance staring. The cracking and squeaking of the ice grew louder and louder and then without a chance to get away, Julian fell through.
The sudden shock of ice water on his skin felt like a boiling vat until the cold set in seconds later. His head was instantly submerged and he accidently swallowed a mouth full of water. Julian was a good swimmer for his age, but the skates weighed him down, giving him little buoyancy to move toward the surface. Morgan stood in place. His expression had changed from a look of anger to a devious crack in his lips, forming into a light smile of twisted delight.
Julian tried to cry out for help, but he had swallowed too much water. Why was Morgan not helping him? With his flailing and flapping arms, he was able to bob to the surface, and he caught a glimpse of a running figure in the distance – his hope, his father. Morgan noticed his father too and instantly fell flat on his belly and shimmied his way to Julian. He wasn’t going to be seen doing nothing to save his little brother. He made his way to the edge of the cracked ice and offered his arm to Julian. Julian tried to grab it, but every time he reached, Morgan’s arm went out of range. Julian was losing his strength and he started to sink lower.
He could hear the muffled yells of his father, then another large crack, followed by a splash. A foot under the icy water he came face to face with his now struggling brother. The ice had broken under Morgan’s weight. The bubbles reaching the surface became fewer as Julian tried in vain to swim toward the surface. It was too late to save either of them by the time their father made it out to the pond. Their father’s weight proved too much for the ice as well and he fell in about twenty yards away. He was able to pull himself out from the first break and crawl to his nearly dead sons who were then barely struggling. He dived in and tried to save both of them, but the lake proved too much for even the grown man. Julian’s fear multiplied when his brother and father became still. He reached out to his father and mustered his last bits of strength to shake him. For some reason, Morgan and his father died several moments before Julian did. However, it wasn’t long before he felt his body go warm and the darkness took him.
Julian threw off his covers shaking himself from the memories that now plagued his dreams. On the edge of the bed he set his face in his palms. Why did he keep having these nightmares? That horrible day they all died was the worst possible memory to have, and it was worse to be reminded of it in his dreams where he felt he could not escape it. It made him hate Morgan all the more. It also made him miss his father. After dreams such as these Julian often wondered what his life would have been like on Earth. Who would he have been? Where would he have gone? How much had he missed out on because he died at such an early age? Perhaps he would have been as important on Earth as he felt he was in Marenon. From talks with his father and many others who had experienced much more life on Earth, Julian knew that people there had plenty of problems. In Julian’s mind, however, it was nothing compared to the problems that infected Marenon. The Stühocs were enough of a disease to warrant such a thought, but on top of that, the Humans had a king that was cold and uncaring, and had no remorse for killing people in the afterlife.
Sometimes Julian wished that he had never been sent to Marenon. Sometimes he wished death had been the end of it all. It was a mystery as to why some people showed up in Marenon after their death on Earth. Humanity’s existence in Marenon was part of Erellen lore and a true explanation had never been found. Futile efforts to find answers had been sought out for hundreds of years. The occurrence shook the faith of many who believed in heaven and hell and surprised those who didn’t believe in a god. Those with strong faith still believed in their god and heaven and hell, but just supposed that this was a step in that direction that was never revealed to them beforehand. Some thought that Marenon was hell and their fate was to live there and fight i
ts battles forever. Some thought it was heaven fallen under attack by the demon-like Stühocs. Julian felt that it was too nice to be hell, but too evil to be heaven. He was convinced, however, that the death many people experienced in Marenon was their final death. The thought was not based in fact or in experience, but in a feeling, perhaps a hope.
It was still early morning, just a couple of hours before dawn. Julian dreaded the day ahead of him. He had not yet requested an audience with his brother and he hated the thought of doing so now. He still wasn’t sure how he planned to get the medallion. Julian was generally liked and respected by the people of Farlaweer Castle, but his turning away from the kingdom and joining the Dunarians was interpreted as disrespect by Morgan. Those that had been under his father’s kingship felt a certain loyalty to the Dunarians, but they also wanted to keep their well-paid jobs and any sort of reputation that they still had. Yet, Julian had some friends that he thought he could trust.
Even so, Julian was not sure if Morgan would see him. There had been a deep-rooted hatred for each other since their beginning in Marenon. He and Julian both knew that their reason for being there was Morgan’s fault and Julian never let him live it down throughout their childhood in Marenon. The rivalry had been sparked from their death and the two never acted kindly to each other when they were alone. Their father knew of their fighting, but didn’t know that it was as entrenched as it was. Julian never told their father, Ruben, that Morgan did it on purpose.
Only a short time after their death and a few years of learning how to live in a new world altogether, their father came into good graces with the king in Marenon. That king had been instrumental in the beginning of the Dunarian cause, to fight the growing threat of the Stühocs. Ruben Hobbes supported him fully. There could be no Human born in Marenon, thus there would be no heir to the throne. The king, through a will, named his successor. He had appointed Ruben to the position much to the surprise of many others who were expecting to be given the honor and much to the surprise of Ruben himself. He took the position graciously and quickly signed his eldest son Morgan to take his place should anything befall him.
When the Stühocs killed their father in an ambush years later, the rivalry between the brothers became more intense, mostly because Morgan had gained power over the throne. Julian had always suspected Morgan knew who ordered the attack on his father and let it happen, but Julian had no basis for this accusation. Somehow he just knew it was true, and it made his hatred grow even darker. He thought that it had to do with their father’s history with the Dunarians whom Morgan detested.
Julian shook his head as the memories raced by. His brother did not deserve the kingship. If it were up to Morgan, he would let the Stühocs ravage the land and kill all the Humans as long as it would keep bringing in the money and making him more powerful.
Eventually, the sun began to rise over the hills that surrounded Farlaweer and Julian made his way to the window of his small inn room to meet it. The warm light began to flood through cracks, melting the shadows until the side of the castle was revealed in the distance. He would be in the castle later that morning, and would more than likely have to wait until the afternoon before being granted an audience with the king. Morgan did not often leave his place of comfort within the castle. He cared nothing for governing; he merely enjoyed the riches and fame, leaving the governing to his seedy advisor. Julian suspected that he sought peace and reconciliation with the Stühocs just so he wouldn’t have to face them. Their father would have never carried such a fear.
Julian looked down to his wrist where the band was wrapped. The green jewel was still and silent. No activity from the council as of yet. They were all counting on him to get these two medallions; the purple medallion of Farlaweer and the white medallion Timugo. And since Kaden Osric had Canor’s blue medallion, that would mean that there were only three left to obtain. There was the red medallion that the Stühocs held in Mudavé, the orange medallion to the north of Mudavé in Voelif, and the green medallion held by the Erellens in Elysium. Ward Holden believed that the council only needed four of them in order to convince the Erellens to fight the Stühocs and obtain the sixth. Of course it was uncertain, but they were all hoping for such an outcome. If they could get all six, they would need no allies according to Holden. This made Julian nervous, but it would be easier to rid the world of the Stühocs. That was all that mattered wasn’t it? Wasn’t the purpose of the Dunarian cause to eradicate evil from Marenon, starting with the Stühocs? Marenon was becoming chaotic. With the deaths of the innocent in Canor under the edict of King Morgan, the ever-constant threat of the Stühocs preparing for war, and the Erellens acting indifferent to all of their complications, there wasn’t much hope for the land’s future. Every part of it was fragile. One wrong move today and Julian could start a complete vendetta by Morgan against the Dunarians that would ultimately result in their destruction. But, if he played his cards right, he would have the medallion in his hands before sundown.
Chapter Thirteen
The early morning dew in Farlaweer began to evaporate into a heavy mugginess as Julian made his way up the castle stairs into the entryway. He spoke with a guard who was clueless as to who he was. Julian told him he was a representative of the Dunarian Council and he needed to speak with the king at once. The guard passed along the message and Julian sat waiting for almost an hour. When the guard finally came back, he was directed to a large room with a long wooden table. The walls were lined with large stained glass windows all around. He was told that someone would be meeting him shortly to take him to the king. So far, so good, Julian thought. He hadn’t expected to even make it this far. He sat for almost another hour knowing exactly what was being done. There was no need for the wait, but Julian understood the drill. If it was not of dire importance to the king then there was no reason to be in a hurry. The longer he made them wait the busier he seemed to be and the more powerful it made him look. He knew how it was with Morgan. He had done it since his first day as king.
The door in the corner opened and in came two guards followed by a small man in long, red robes, carrying several items that might have been from his previous meeting, if there really was one. The man’s name was Spencer. Julian had known Spencer most of his life in Marenon. The man had been selected as one of Ruben’s several advisors. Spencer was the least liked of the bunch and often pointed out the negative aspect of any issue. Ruben had considered his perspective to be invaluable. Morgan liked him so much that when he became king, he got rid of the others and made Spencer his only close personal advisor. Julian would have fired him the first day if he were in his brother’s position. Spencer’s manipulative behavior was transparent to Julian. Spencer had always known that Julian saw through him too. But there was no reason for him to be afraid of Julian. He knew Julian never had any power in the royal family.
The weasel of a man set his things on the large table in the middle of the room and looked up at Julian with a surprised stare. He obviously had not expected to see him.
“Why Julian,” he said. “I knew we were meeting with a representative from the Dunarians, but you were the last person I would have expected to see.”
Julian stood. “And you are not my brother. I specifically asked to speak with him.”
“The king is quite busy these days, Julian. One cannot simply ask to see him and expect an audience right away. It’s not how it works, you know that.” Spencer pushed up his glasses on his long, slender nose with his pointy fingers. The man had an aura about him that would make most people cringe. It wasn’t from fear or intimidation, but more of a sick feeling like speaking to him was wrong somehow.
“I know how it works with Morgan and I asked to be allowed to speak with him. What I have to say has nothing to do with you, Spencer.”
Spencer chuckled. “Well, as the king’s personal advisor I will know everything there is to know anyway, young Julian. Your brother relies on my opinion in most situations, as I’m sure he would trust my judgment
on any matter you may have to bring before him. Anyway, he has no desire to see you. He detests your existence.”
The words poured out of his mouth like liquid poison and Julian wished Spencer would drown on them. He spoke as if he knew the thoughts of Morgan when in fact he probably planted most of the ideas in his brain. Morgan had few redeeming qualities about him, but Spencer had even fewer.
“I want to speak with him,” Julian repeated.
“Out of the question,” Spencer said, unmoving. His smug grin made Julian flush with anger.
“Does he even know I’m here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Spencer said. “He would not speak to you.”
“Let him make that decision,” Julian said, his face turning a bright red.
“He already has. Through me.”
Julian clenched his fist doing his best not to snap the frail creature’s neck. The two guards in the room were well trained, and should he make a scene, more might come. There was little chance he could take several guards without a sword at once, not to mention that being wanted for murder would hinder his ability to obtain the medallion. For these reasons he held his composure.
“I’m sure that’s not how it worked when my father was in power was it?”
“Ruben Hobbes was weak and incompetent and without the ability to rely on others to help him in any situation. It was cause for much confusion in his kingship. Things work much better this way, Julian.”
The Marenon Chronicles Collection Page 13