The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  “Inga?” Alric asked.

  “Of course,” she answered.

  All eyes fell on Lorcan in the corner.

  “Lorcan?”

  He waited a moment, saying nothing. He looked as if he had something he really wanted to say, but just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was on him whether or not Silas was going on this mission. He would not go if they were not going to help him find Garland. This was the only reason he had to be there at all. After a long moment, Lorcan looked at Silas.

  “If your grandfather is alive, and we survive this mission, you have my word that we will help you find him.” At that moment he gave a glaring look at Alric. Silas wasn’t sure, but it seemed that it was one of disdain. He wondered what conversation had transpired while he was unconscious.

  Silas looked at Alric. “Then you have me one hundred percent.”

  Everyone but Lorcan stood for a moment in silence. Silas considered the gravity of his words, hoping his commitment to this band of coarse individuals was a good one. Alric silently left the room and the awkward quiet felt heavy. In a few seconds, he came from the other room with an arm full of parchments. He set them all on the table and spread them out in an order that only he could make sense of. The papers revealed descriptions, lists and other indecipherable transcripts, but Alric drew their attention to the detailed maps.

  “These,” Alric said, “are the plans for tomorrow. Hopefully we can get in there and get out as quickly as possible.” Alric pointed at one of the maps. “The entrance we are taking is to the south, not far from here. There will be a few guards. Inga will hit them hard with her magic and with as little noise as possible.”

  Inga nodded, knowing the plans well.

  “We won’t be there to kill, just to get the object, Alric continued.”

  “Is that right?” Lorcan said looking away in the distance.

  Alric ignored him and pointed at a map of what looked to be the underground tunnels leading to the city of the Anwyn people. “Coffman and I will be moving ahead to make sure the lower levels are clear and Inga will scout the upper levels. Together we’ll be clearing the way for our exit to the east.” Alric looked behind him at Lorcan who was still sitting in the corner whittling away. “Lorcan will stay at the south entrance to make sure no one is coming in from behind and after fifteen minutes he’ll come around and meet us at the back exit with the horses.”

  Silas was anxious to hear what Alric had planned for him.

  “You will be the one that actually steals the staff while we are getting the other artifact and clearing your way.”

  “What?”

  Alric picked up a smaller piece of paper and handed it to Silas. “This is a map showing the direct route to the staff and to the escape to the exit. We will be clearing you a safe path for your escape and making sure no one comes up behind you.”

  Silas shook his head. He had no idea they wanted him to do their dirty work. “This is why you want me? If I get caught you can just escape with all of your friends and leave me to bear the consequences?”

  “Silas, if you get caught, we all get caught,” Alric said. “It takes the rest of us to make sure you aren’t caught. If you get caught then we haven’t done our job on the mission.”

  Silas shook his head.

  “I told you this was not going to be easy,” Alric said.

  Silas spent the moment in silence, thinking and rethinking why he was even there. There was no guarantee that his grandfather was alive or could even be found. If there was no finding Garland Ainsley then there was no rescuing Kaden, and in that moment it felt like that was the only purpose that Silas had. There was no other option, he concluded. These people would either help him or they wouldn’t and right now they were the only ones offering.

  Silas nodded. “I’m with you.”

  “Good,” Alric said sharply. “Now, once you have the staff there will be a loud alarm alerting the Anwyns to our presence. I wager you’ll have about three minutes to make it to the east door and meet with us before any of the Anwyns can get to you. We will wait at the exit and be off.”

  Silas nodded. He wasn’t sure he had just made the best decision of his afterlife, but he had made up his mind. He was going to find his grandfather or he was going to die trying.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Julian Hobbes stood on the roof of the inn breathing the cool night air deep into his lungs as he gazed upon the castle of Farlaweer, which was illuminated by the starlit sky. He fingered the golden key, the device that would open any door in the castle, including the one to the king’s chamber. There was no question where the medallion was kept. It hung proudly, perhaps stupidly, around the neck of King Morgan. That is, until he was asleep. Julian knew the habits of his brother, and he knew them well. He had been in the king’s chamber a few times when his brother had begun his reign. For the brief time that he put up with Morgan’s arrogance and condescension, Julian became familiar with his ‘kingly’ routines.

  Morgan was an early-to-bed, late-to-rise sort of person. He never let the struggles of kingship or worries of the realm get to him. When the sun faded, Morgan was ready to be finished with the day. He’s probably already sleeping like a baby, Julian thought. Morgan had been that way since they were children.

  The medallion would be resting on a table next to his bed along with several royal rings and an oil lamp. Getting to the table and taking the medallion would be no problem. The only problem that Julian could foresee would be getting past the tight security throughout the castle. Two guards would be stationed outside the king’s chambers and taking them down quietly would be no easy task. It was a mission of stealth. He could not be seen, heard or sensed in anyway. Fortunately, Julian knew every part of the castle by heart. He knew the guard’s routes, the times they passed by certain points and even when they were allowed a bathroom break. As a teenager, several years after his father began his rule as king, Julian would try to sneak to his room from outside the castle without being seen. The first few times he got caught and could have even been killed, sneaking around a guard like he did, but he never got in serious trouble. Instead, he tried and tried again to see if he could actually do it. Once he figured out the routes and positions of all the guards, it became all too easy for him. It had been a long time since he had done such a thing and he was going to a different part of the castle this time. He hoped the guard’s routes had not changed too much.

  He sniffed the air again and could smell the eastern winds blowing from the Ocalan River. The time was right. He left the roof of the inn and made his way through the vacant streets and to the castle. Marenon’s moon was high in the bright, clear, night sky, illuminating his path. Most people were inside their homes by this time. No person would see him, just as he wanted. He pulled his dark cloak close to him and the hood shadowed his face. To a person from any sort of distance Julian would have looked to be only a shadow moving briskly. His sword clung to his back and his dagger hung at his belt underneath his cloak. He hoped that there would be no need for the sharp weapons tonight, but he wouldn’t hesitate to use them if necessary. He was no cold-blooded killer, but he would kill to protect his identity and his life.

  If anyone recognized him sneaking through the castle, the Dunarians would be implicated and there would be a campaign set against them. They could not take an all-out war against the king and his army. It would be the end of the Dunarians. Julian knew it was worth the risk, however. Every member of the council knew the risk and was willing to accept it. Having the medallion was key to winning any sort of fight against the Stühocs. It was the only way to create the weapon.

  Julian wondered again about the weapon. The thought of something that could make a small group of people take control over a large world made Julian shiver. He almost didn’t want anything to do with such a thing, but the notion of taking down the Stühocs sounded good. Surely, it would be worth it. Surely, they would be unstoppable. Yet, being unstoppable is what scared Julian the most. That much
power could easily corrupt. Julian thought specifically of Ward Holden. Could Holden be trusted? Was there a chance that he would use it against anyone other than the Stühocs? Julian shook away the thoughts. He didn’t need to worry too much yet. The Dunarians only had possession of one medallion, which was last in the custody of Garland Ainsley and now, hopefully Kaden Osric. If everything went as planned, they would have two that night. If Julian’s hired mercenaries paid off, then they would have three. There were only three more after that.

  Another medallion, the orange-jeweled relic of power, was to the northeast, possessed by the Nestorians in Voelif. Nalani was currently planning a mission to steal it from them, and if Alric and his group did well in obtaining the medallion from the Anwyns, then perhaps they would serve well in stealing from the Nestorians. It would be pricey, but worth it. The last medallion, the Erellens held close to them. The Erellens probably thought the Humans didn’t deserve to have the medallions.

  It was a known fact that Humans were not supposed to exist in Marenon. The Stühocs did not belong in Marenon either. Some Humans came to Marenon when they died in their previous life and according to Erellen history, this had only been happening for the past several thousand years. There was no account of a Human coming to Marenon after dying of old age, or for any natural reason, but only when their life had ended prematurely. There was no explanation for this. It was a mystery to Humans and Erellens.

  The Stühocs were an odd sort. Julian had been told that they somehow jumped from world to world, trying to conquer every being they could. They had been attacking and trying to take over Marenon for several years before the Humans came. Why they came, no one knew. Who the first Human was, no one knew. It was not recorded in Erellen history and there were no known texts of prophecy ever referring to the Humans before their coming. And for some reason, in Marenon, they could not reproduce. No Human could be born. Many tried to carry on their name in this world, but it was impossible. Another sign to us saying, ‘you do not belong here’, Julian thought.

  He gazed upon the castle as it came into view. He often wondered why his life was cut so short, if only to grow up in Marenon, in the castle. To some, coming to Marenon was a second chance at a new life. To Julian, it had been more like the beginning of his first life. So far, it was not the life he would have chosen, but he often reminded himself that it was the life he was given regardless of how he felt.

  It had been the same story for his brother Morgan, and their father’s life had been cut short too. Ruben never had the chance to become an old man in either world. Julian would not rest until he could prove the true nature of his father’s death in Marenon. He was sure Morgan’s leech of an advisor, Spencer, had much to do with it. And Spencer may have been lying, but he had said Morgan knew the truth. Julian knew it was carried out by a group of Stühocs led by their vile commander, Maroke. But even the Stühocs were not foolish enough to execute such an act without fear of repercussion. The only reason that would have motivated them to attack without fear would be if they were already at war or if they knew there would be no consequences. There had been none. For this reason, Julian held a personal disdain for just about anyone who worked for the king and an even harsher hatred for the Stühocs.

  Julian crept through the shadows along the west wall of the castle, being careful to stay between the walls and the river’s bank. The castle often received shipments from the south and other regions using the river. The embankments along the river were set in such a way that only one ship at a time could come close to the castle to dock. Trees lined the entranceway on both sides. In the event of an attack, ships would be left in the main course of the river, too far from the castle to make an effective trap. It was not the port that had Julian’s attention, however. It was what was under the port. Spring had bloomed and the heavy rains had come and gone. The secret entrance to the castle would not be fully flooded any longer. At least he hoped it wouldn’t. Julian reached the bank and searched for the direction he needed to take. No boat or ship currently docked near the secret entryway. He felt relieved by this, but slightly exposed, even though he looked to the top of the castle wall and saw no guards. Unable to shake the feeling, he took a deep breath and slid into the water until he was completely submerged.

  The murky water combined with the darkness of the night made it impossible to see. He remembered when he found this secret way long ago when he was just a boy. He had been fishing and Morgan had thrown his pole into the river, laughing all the while. He had gotten nervous when Julian didn’t come up for air after diving to retrieve his pole. When Julian finally emerged, Morgan thought he had some sort of magical powers to be able to hold his breath for so long.

  “Thought you killed me again?” Julian had asked.

  Morgan never answered. He simply walked away, white-faced and bewildered.

  Swimming the path at night took some heavy use of his memory and some precision. He swam deeper and deeper toward the castle base. The moonlight was now gone, leaving nothing to show him his way. He reached out his hand and finally felt the slimy, stone wall. He moved along to the left, until he could feel the wall disappear into an upward pathway. He swam through the passage until his feet touched stone and he began to walk slowly. After a few more seconds, his head emerged from the water and he was inside the castle wall. He pulled out his sword and with a thought it burst into flames, turning it to torchlight. It was practical magic. His father had insisted that his sons learn it since they were in a land that made it possible. Their tutor had taught them everything from making torches to picking up objects with their mind. Julian, however, took it upon himself to add a few techniques to his repertoire that would assist him in a time of need. It had been too long since he had used it, though.

  Inside the watery cave, he stood feet from a marble door, which was delicately carved with a picture of a tree. It was a beautiful piece of art and Julian had always wondered who had crafted it. Leaves fell from the carved branches, but at its base lay something disturbing. It was a figure of a man on the ground, dying from an arrow wound, protruding from his chest. Next to him was a bent crown, possibly symbolizing the fall of the Human king, but Julian could not be sure. Along the walls of the tiny hallway leading to the door were images of war, monsters eating Humans, Erellens making sacrifices of the Stühocs. Julian had never understood any of the carvings. It all seemed so evil. He knew this was not the time to try and decipher who or what might have carved these images. He reached deep into his pocket and produced the golden key he had swiped from Spencer. He slid it into the keyhole of the marble door and turned it slowly. Without any force at all Julian was able to quietly open the door and slip into the castle, underground and out of sight. There were no guards in this part of the castle because few of them even knew about the entrance. Those that may have known about it considered it nothing to be guarded. Julian wasn’t sure if Morgan had ever been told it existed. Julian never told him. Spencer probably knew though, because he made it his business to know any and everything about what happened in the castle.

  Julian’s fire-lit sword flickered in the darkness, revealing his path to the end. The underground of the castle had many twists and turns and the gray corridors were startlingly bare, unlike its imaginative entrance. The entrance to the tunnel so intrigued him when he was a child that he eventually ‘borrowed’ his father’s key and found his way through it. Julian would have never gotten caught if his father had not seen him placing the key back on the bedside table during the night.

  “I was wondering where the key went missing,” he said. “I didn’t think I would have lost it so easily.”

  Julian had thought he was going to be in a lot of trouble, but no punishment came. He quickly told his father about how he found the tunnel and that there was an entire maze down below them. Ruben smiled at him and nodded.

  “It’s for our protection,” he explained. “In case we are ever attacked and need a secret escape.”

  Ruben made him promise n
ever to go down there again. Having not been there since he was young, it would be difficult to figure out exactly which entrance led to what part of the castle. Julian assumed there would be a doorway directly under the king’s chambers which was on the top level of the northwest corner of the castle. That meant five stairwells. Julian had his work cut out for him.

  He thought about his direction, knowing that he came in facing the east. Making a left he headed north until he was forced to turn. Every time he made a turn in the labyrinth he did his best to make sure he was headed northwest. On several occasions he came to a dead end and was forced to turn back until he finally came to a corridor with a shiny marble door. Julian didn’t think this was the northwest most part of the castle, but he was not about to go search for the correct door. This was his first shot at entering the castle, and unless he wanted to risk getting completely lost, he knew he should take it. With another thought, the fire from his sword extinguished, without so much as a puff of smoke. He sheathed his sword, slid the key into the door and it opened as gently as the first. He quietly crouched to the floor and closed the door behind him, locking it noiselessly. The room was foreign to him. Books scattered all about, torn and maimed, while some were stacked in piles, and others untidily place on shelves. Several tables stood situated with no organization throughout the large room. From corner to corner the place was filled with dirty jars and old, rusty weapons. It smelled musky as if some foul creature inhabited it long ago, but left to never return, yet it had the look of frequent use. Having never seen this room before, Julian wasn’t sure what section of the castle he was in. He felt a sudden jolt when he heard voices in the far right corner.

  He could see his exit only feet from him on the opposite wall, but the voices sounded familiar to him. They were not that of his brother, or anyone else he could quite place. He knew he would have to get closer to discover exactly who was speaking. The room was large enough for him to move in the shadows, but cluttered enough that he would easily make noise if he were not cautious. He crouched low and slowly crept his way behind a bookshelf. He peered his cloaked head around the side, making sure he was no more than a shadow if one were to look at him. Squinting past another row of cluttered tables he could finally see who was speaking. Spencer!