The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  Julian snorted. “I’m sure you think so. My father’s only mistake was appointing you to an advisory position in the first place, you snake!”

  “I’m sure there are many who would disagree with your assessment,” Spencer said calmly.

  “Is that so? I’m sure my father would have done a lot more than fire you if he had survived his attack by the Stühocs.”

  Spencer stood motionless.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Julian said moving forward. “I believe that you and several others were behind his death. It’s something that has eaten away at me over the years and it’s about time someone faced the consequences.”

  “You don’t know what you are talking about,” Spencer said glancing at the guards who stood ready to help.

  “I think I do,” Julian said, now only a foot from Spencer. The guards held tight to their weapons, ready for any sudden movements. “I think it was you who planned the attack in the first place. I think you knew if my brother were king he would make you the sole advisor to him. You hated my father and everything he stood for. You hated how he wanted nothing more than to let the Dunarians move on with their plans to eradicate the Stühocs from Marenon.”

  Spencer held his position, but was much smaller than Julian. A standoff would not go into his favor. A grin remained on Spencer’s face.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave, Julian.”

  At that moment the guards went to either side of Julian to escort him out of the palace. One of them made the mistake of harshly grabbing him by the arm. Julian yanked his own arm, pulling the guard’s head down sharply. As Julian’s knee came up to meet it, the crack of a broken nose could be heard and the guard fell, whimpering, to the floor. Then without consideration for the consequences he backhanded the other guard across the face causing him to fall to the ground. In the same fluid motion, Julian grabbed Spencer by the shoulders and threw him onto the table, pinning him down. He landed two punches to the stomach and a slap across the face. A drop of blood trickled down Spencer’s nose as Julian held him by his garments.

  “You murdering traitor!” Julian spat. “I should kill you for what you did! You deserve nothing but to be thrown into the gauntlet you conjured up in your twisted brain!”

  Spencer could barely breathe. “If you don’t let go of me this instant!”

  “What? What will you do, you wormy filth?”

  Through the struggle and triumph of facing Spencer and truly telling him how he felt, Julian had let his guard down. Spencer grinned maliciously once again and then all went black.

  All Julian could think at the moment was how much the back of his head hurt. A knot had already formed and was tender to the touch.

  When he came to, he realized that he was lying on the grass somewhere outside of the castle walls. The two guards and Spencer stood above him, bloodied and battered. One of the guards had apparently gotten back up and silenced Julian.

  “The only reason you aren’t being thrown into the dungeons this minute is because I don’t want your brother to know you were here,” Spencer said. “It would cause much distress for the king if he were to find out that you were here to kill him.”

  “You don’t want to throw me in the dungeons because you’re afraid I can convince him of the truth about you,” Julian shot back, rubbing the knot on the back of his head.

  Spencer and the guards began to move back toward the castle to leave Julian stranded outside of the walls. Before the gates closed on him, Spencer said, “Your brother knows the truth, Julian. He knows it and he’s accepted it. Perhaps you should too.” The gate shut hard and Spencer vanished from sight.

  When Julian stood, a wave of dizziness sailed through his head and he thought he might fall over again. One of the guards had hit him hard. He was stupid for having turned his back on them. He toddled down a walkway and eventually made it out to the city where people were walking all around him, not noticing who he was. He preferred it this way. When he got back to the inn he took off his cloak and looked out his window to the castle in the distance. In there sat Morgan, oblivious to the fact that his brother had been in the castle only minutes before, trying to see him. Julian wasn’t sure if Morgan would have cared to see him anyway, but it had been worth a try.

  There was still hope for getting the medallion, however. There were two people in all of Farlaweer that held a key that opened every door, every gate and every passageway throughout the castle. Those two people were Morgan and his weasel advisor Spencer. Julian reached into his pocket and pulled out the key he took off of Spencer when he threw him onto the table. The move had been risky and dangerous. Julian was lucky to have escaped with a minor blow to the head, but it was a small price to pay, considering the reward. He smiled as he turned the key over in his palm, then placed it back into his pocket.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sun had barely risen when Silas felt a sheathed sword land on his chest, waking him from his deep slumber. The weight was heavy and the wind was nearly knocked out of him. Through blurry eyes Silas was able to make out the hazy shape of Lorcan Zamire staring down at him with Coffman towering behind.

  “If you’re going to make it out alive on our mission, you’ve got to know how to fight,” Lorcan said.

  What was he talking about?

  “I just want to see if you can handle yourself. Get up, meet me out at the pit in five minutes.”

  Lorcan then turned and walked out with Coffman close on his heals. Why was Lorcan giving him such a hard time? Silas didn’t want to be on this job any more than Lorcan wanted him to. Perhaps Lorcan was afraid of being replaced. This was something that Silas was definitely not attempting to do. He had much more pressing matters than to worry about the politics of a shady mercenary group. Silas unsheathed the sword that Lorcan threw at him, studying the polished blade. It was crafted well, strong, and the handle formed to his hand comfortably.

  He sat up, sheathed the sword and placed it next to him on the bed. He put on the clothes that Alric had provided him the night before, along with a snug pair of boots. He walked lightly out of the room and through the hallway so he would not wake anyone in the log cabin.

  His sleep had been nice and deep, but he remembered that he did not have any dreams. This was not uncommon, but something that made him think. Do people dream in Marenon? Was there some sort of cloud that fogged the minds of individuals while they slept through the night? Perhaps he was just so tired from the previous day’s events that his mind didn’t have the energy to think. His stomach felt empty. If given the opportunity he knew he would be able to stuff his face until he was sick. He wondered what sort of breakfast would be prepared. He rubbed his hands through his thick blonde hair. If he wasn’t mistaken, he had just been challenged to a fight. He wasn’t sure what Lorcan was trying to prove here, but Silas had the feeling that he would do just fine in a fight. He had not been in a fair duel in two years, but was confident he could hold his own.

  His eyebrows furrowed when he heard loud snores coming from the room to his left, knowing it had to be Alric and thinking that it surely couldn’t be Inga. Such a beauty could never produce that hideous grating noise.

  He made his way through the front of the house and onto the grass. He looked to his right and saw Coffman standing over the pit saying something inaudible to Lorcan who was swinging his blade, preparing himself to fight. They both stopped and stared when they noticed him. Silas looked down at the sword in his hands and silently hoped that Lorcan wasn’t planning to make this a fight to the death. He had no desire to kill, but if Lorcan tried to finish him off, Silas wouldn’t hesitate to run him through with the long blade. He made his way to the square pit, neither of them saying anything as he approached. Coffman shifted his weight awkwardly and Lorcan watched intently as Silas approached.

  Silas wasn’t sure what to say, so he blurted, “Nice morning for a duel, eh?”

  Lorcan simply stared harder. “Shut up,” he said. “I want to see what you can do before we ta
ke you out on a job.”

  “Is there a reason you want to see this at sunrise while Alric and Inga are asleep?” Silas asked incredulously.

  A sly smirked crossed Lorcan’s face. “I guess I can’t pull one over on you, can I?”

  “What do you want from me, Lorcan?”

  “I want you to prove yourself. I want to be sure you aren’t going to screw this up.”

  Silas had had enough. “Fine,” he said as he threw the sheath off the sword onto the ground. There was a ladder into the pit, but Silas just jumped down, landing inches from Lorcan causing him to step back and bring up his sword.

  “You want to duel with me? Let’s do it,” Silas said, holding his sword in a defensive position. He winced at the pain in his shoulder. He had forgotten about the deep cut he had received in the gauntlet and he hoped it wouldn’t slow him in this duel.

  Lorcan smiled. “Gladly.”

  Both of them circled each other; swords held up, ready to strike at any moment. Coffman stood at the top of the pit, occasionally looking toward the house to see if Alric or Inga were coming.

  Lorcan struck first. It was a simple blow from the side that Silas was able to parry with ease. His technique might be lacking in finesse since it had been so long since he had dueled, but the muscle memory was still there. Silas knew what he was doing. He had been trained by the best.

  Lorcan swung his blade downward, this time with a harsh force. He was strong, no doubt. Poised and ready, Silas parried the next attack and took a swipe that missed Lorcan’s shoulder by a few inches. Lorcan staggered backward, realizing his foe was not as untrained as he had previously thought. In Lorcan’s brief moment of vulnerability, Silas unleashed his fury – going at him with everything he had. The Erellen was able to parry the blows, but not without some difficulty. Silas had taken him by surprise and he exploited Lorcan’s exposure. Lorcan kept staggering backward, not fully knowing what move to make next until he twisted his sword around, catching the hilt of Silas’ blade, shoving both weapons deep into the dirt. The two struggled with who would pull out their blade first. As Silas pulled harder, Lorcan brought his elbow down on Silas’ right jaw, knocking him to the ground. His shoulder’s stitches split open with the impact against the ground and blood began to spill out. Weaponless, Silas rolled to his right and jumped to his feet. His sword stuck out from the ground almost five feet away while Lorcan guarded it warily.

  “You cannot win without a sword,” he said, pointing his blade at Silas’ head.

  Silas jumped to the balls of his feet, preparing to pivot. He faked to the right, causing Lorcan to swing and miss as Silas darted to the left, spinning and grabbing his sword from the ground. He spun around once more, his blade smashing against Lorcan’s.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Coffman said from above.

  Lorcan’s eyes narrowed in anger.

  “I’ve learned from the best there ever was,” Silas said. A slight smile crossed his face. While their swords pressed firmly against each other, Lorcan seethed, as if his desire to kill Silas continued to increase while the seconds passed.

  “You really think you can survive the job?” he said.

  Silas held his position. “I have to survive the job,” he replied. “There’s too much at stake for me not to!”

  “I asked if you think you can!”

  “Of course I can!”

  Coffman watched as the two stood in a deadlock. He hadn’t even noticed that Inga was standing next to him. The fight had not gone well for Lorcan, and he felt sick at what he knew was about to happen.

  “Then I suppose you’re ready for this!” Lorcan shouted triumphantly. Just as he finished speaking, a burst of red flame exploded in front of Silas’ eyes sending him flying to the other side of the pit. It was like a car had just hit him. He tried to get up, but was hit with the same blunt force again, and again. Lorcan was using some sort of magical power to crush Silas. Through the haziness of the attack Silas could hear the echoing blur of a woman’s voice yelling for Lorcan to stop. Before he lost his consciousness he knew it was the voice of Inga crying out for him. He loved the sound of her voice. He hated the feeling of his head being crushed like an egg against a rock. All went black.

  When Silas awoke he was back in his bed, the sun was just rising and his head felt like it was broken. A fresh set of stitches throbbed in his left shoulder. He tried to sit up, but was shushed by a calming voice. A young woman, a few years older than he, was telling him to lie down, and that he had had a rough day. It was Inga.

  She rubbed a warm washcloth across his forehead. “You shouldn’t try to get up yet.”

  After a few moments of trying to calm the crushing pain in his head, Silas began to understand his surroundings a bit more. He had not been dreaming. Lorcan had really tried to kill him. And it wasn’t sunrise either. He could see through the window that the dim light outside was the setting sun. How long had he been out?

  “We were getting a little worried about you,” Inga said. “You got a pretty good dose of Lorcan’s fury.”

  “He tried to kill me,” Silas said.

  Inga shook her head. “No, no. He wouldn’t try to kill you. He was just trying to see if you could handle yourself. Mostly, he doesn’t want you to go.”

  Silas was still confused by why there was so much hatred directed toward him. He had done nothing, but shown up. “Why doesn’t he want me to go?”

  “Frankly, I don’t want you to go either,” she said dabbing a small cut above Silas’ eye. “I think there is a better way than to bring in a new person. A job like this takes a trained professional. We’ve been doing this kind of work for a while.”

  “You aren’t that much older than me,” Silas said.

  Inga smiled; her teeth shone straight and white. Silas felt like he would burst just being so close to her, much less receiving all this attention.

  “I am twenty,” she said. “But I’ve been in Marenon nearly my whole life. I know how to fight, and I know how to use magic. These are two things that a person must know if they are to survive a job like this.”

  “Then why is Alric going through all the trouble of hiring an untrained person like me instead of getting somebody who knows what they’re doing?”

  “We’re on a tight deadline,” she said. “Alric doesn’t have enough time to look, so he went to the place where only the strongest survive.”

  “The gauntlet,” Silas said, staring at the ceiling as the realization dawned on him.

  Inga nodded.

  “Did you ever have to go through the gauntlet?” Silas asked her.

  “I came here when I was six years old. The gauntlet has only been around for three years since the new king.”

  “I’d like to meet this king and give him a piece of my mind,” Silas said.

  “I think a lot of us would,” she answered.

  Silas let his eyes travel to Inga’s. She met his gaze with a lingering look that overwhelmed him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to break it, but he did after a few seconds. Inga seemed to feel the same as she too turned away quickly.

  “Where did you learn to fight?” she asked, seemingly trying to distract from the awkward moment.

  “My grandfather taught me.”

  “The one you want us to help you find?”

  “That’s right,” he answered. Silas didn’t even know if his grandfather was in Marenon. “He would have survived the gauntlet.”

  Inga nodded. “If there’s anyone that can help you find him it’s us, especially Alric. He was pretty angry when he found out what Lorcan did to you.”

  Silas tried to sit up. “Really?”

  “Yeah. He yelled at Lorcan for about an hour. I have never seen him so angry. Alric’s convinced you won’t come with us now and he’s not sure what to do.”

  Silas said nothing. After the morning’s events, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go with them. How could he trust them after what had just been done to him? Coffman had just watched while Lo
rcan nearly did him in. In fact, Silas could remember Inga just standing there watching too.

  “Why didn’t you stop Lorcan?”

  She looked up, wide-eyed. “I had no idea he was going to do that. I thought the two of you were training! And I didn’t know he got you out of bed the way he did.”

  Silas looked away. There was no way to be sure she was being truthful. This was a rough group and they were all mostly interested in the money anyway. Silas knew he would not be able to trust them, but he didn’t see any better way to find his grandfather. Silas knew no one would know Marenon better than they would. He had no choice, but to give them a chance.

  Silas began to move from the bed, tossing the covers off of him. Inga tried to stop him, but he ignored her requests. His head pounded with each step down the hallway and the room spun around him as he staggered toward the staircase. When he came to the bottom of the steps, he found Coffman sitting at the table with Alric, smoking long pipes and playing some card game. Lorcan sat in a chair in the far corner, keeping to himself. All of them looked up when Silas entered, leaning against the wall to steady himself. Inga stood behind him not knowing exactly why Silas had made this trek. Alric stood as to show a gesture of welcome and remorse.

  “Silas, I want you to know…”

  Silas held up a hand to silence him. “You are my only way to finding my grandfather and it is really important that I do. A person’s life is at stake and my grandfather is the only one that I know who can help him. I need to know that if I do this job, that you’ll keep your word.”

  Everyone waited silently, not knowing exactly what to say.

  “And I want to know that I can trust you.”

  Alric walked over to Silas and stuck out his hand. Silas grabbed it reluctantly and shook. “Of course you can,” Alric said smiling wide. “Coffman?”

  The big man sat silent for a moment then spoke. “Sure, you can trust me.”