With a quick kiss, Nalani left with a promise to see him off before he left to meet with Alric Thirsk. Julian attempted to sleep, but rest was impossible. He tossed and turned until midday, his dreams filled with the threat of his own death and the image of his brother falling from the balcony. He woke again with a start and decided that there was no use in trying to rest his mind. He would get no repose until his mission was finished. It was time to leave.
Julian washed, dressed and prepared all the items he would need for the quick journey. He placed the medallion in his fresh cloak and pulled out his brother’s sealed envelope. He stared at it for a long moment contemplating whether he should open it or not. What could his brother possibly want to say to him? He felt sick every time he thought about reading Morgan’s words. He shook his head and set the envelope on the table next to the basin.
He made his way down the corridor from his room hoping beyond all hope to avoid anyone on the council, especially Holden. Nalani would be at the top of the tower where the sarians were kept. He climbed the east stairwell, more tired than he wanted to be. He did not want another night without sleep, but he feared sleep would not come even if he had the chance to take it. He opened the large wooden door not only to see Nalani waiting for him, but another person Julian wasn’t expecting at all. Garland Ainsley. Julian stood motionless, taken by surprise.
“Hello, Julian,” Garland said, smiling.
Julian nodded. “Hi.” He looked at Nalani quizzically. She shrugged, out of Garland’s view.
“Heading off are you?”
“That’s right.” Julian walked closer to where Eden stood ready and waiting to go on their newest journey.
“I was wondering if I might accompany you,” Garland said, walking closer to Julian. “There has been no news of Kaden or my grandson, so I am forced to sit here and wait. Frankly, it’s driving me crazy. Holden suggested that I accompany you.”
“Did he?” Julian said mounting Eden. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question. I need to do this alone and I don’t need anyone around to mess it up.”
“There’s hardly anything I could do to mess this up,” Garland said. “Aren’t you just meeting them and exchanging money for the medallion?” He grinned widely, scratching the back of his head. “Besides, it might be nice to have some backup in case things get ugly. I assure you, I’ve still got it,” he said, patting the sword at his side.
Julian knew this had to be some sort of setup. Why would Holden have Garland of all people come with him on this part of the mission? Was it to spy, or to get his hands on the other medallion? Julian couldn’t determine whether Garland was playing into the hands of Holden or if he was blatantly on Holden’s side. Either way, he was going to prove troublesome. If Julian refused, there may be suspicion, even though there was plenty of mistrust anyway.
“How’d you find your old sarian and get him back to Jekyll Rock after so many years?” Julian asked.
Garland’s look was that of gratefulness as he turned to his faithful bird. “After a Human and a sarian have spent enough time with each other, they are never truly separated until one of them dies. Skarret and I have been through a lot together.” He sighed, turning back to Julian. “When I got back to Marenon the second time, Skarret felt my presence. He found me.”
Julian thought about the old man’s words. He had never thought that way about Eden. He appreciated the beast and knew she would always fight for him, but to know that there was a much deeper bond was assuring.
Finally, Julian nodded. “Saddle up.”
Garland smiled, satisfied. “Skarret won’t take a saddle, but I thought you’d see it my way.” He walked over to a sarian in the far corner that had not been ridden in years, and had been strangely absent since its master’s disappearance. An empty stall had kept the other sarians company over the years, a reminder that Garland Ainsley was gone, but would return.
“Before this week, it had been so long since I’d seen Skarret!” The animal nipped at his owner affectionately, ready to take flight once again.
While Garland mounted the bird, Nalani touched Julian’s leg. Looking up she said, “I’m going with you.”
“I can’t let you,” Julian said. “If he’s going out there to try something I don’t want you to be in the middle of it.”
“I can take care of myself, Julian. If he makes a move, you have a much better chance of getting out alive with me there than if you go it alone. Besides, I don’t want to be cooped up here now that Holden has taken the other side. Wouldn’t you rather have me near you?” she smiled coyly as she gazed into his eyes.
Julian considered this, but he also had concerns about what her presence would mean. With Holden bent on getting rid of Julian he didn’t want the old man to get any ideas with Nalani. She could easily be used to make Julian surrender to Holden’s will. Julian would never forgive himself if anything were to happen to her.
“I’m not helpless, Julian,” she snapped. “I’ve worked my way to this position just as you have. I’m not asking you. I’m going.”
He reluctantly nodded his approval, but she had already walked briskly over to her own sarian, Fury.
“Where’s she going?” Garland asked, Skarret walking under him down the middle of the loft toward Julian.
“She’s coming with us,” Julian said with a firm finality.
Garland nodded. “Well, the more the better, I say.”
“Do you now?” Julian smirked.
Garland gave Julian a wry smile letting him know he wasn’t impressed with his sarcastic tone.
Within a minute they were all flying out toward Timugo where Julian and Alric had set up their meeting place. Alric better have that medallion, Julian thought.
Chapter Eighteen
The group left the wooded outskirts of Canor on horseback, weapons attached to their saddles, just as the sun was edging its way over the horizon. Silas had recovered for the most part, but his body still ached, leaving a bitter reminder that he would need to watch his back while traveling with Lorcan Zamire. Inga had insisted that Lorcan did not have it out for him, but Silas didn’t believe it for a second. The tension among the group was awkward and Silas had the sneaking suspicion that their quiet behavior was not the natural attitude for the four others who had been in many tight situations together. He could sense a fading camaraderie, more than likely owing to his presence among them. Silas stayed toward the back of the riders feeling it was best. By mid-morning they had crossed the Zasca River by ferry and traveled discreetly in the grassy plains. Nobody spoke apart from the occasional chatter between Alric and Coffman about the best way to hunt scowlers, whatever those where.
They stopped at noon to eat and let the horses rest. The skimpy meal was about as silent as the trip had been. It was short-lived and within fifteen minutes they began moving east again. Alric predicted that they would reach Timugo by nightfall and would go in for the artifacts around midnight.
The grassy plains eventually turned into thick forest as they rode single file through a hilly, mountainous region. Set in each hill, Silas could see various caves, which reminded him of how he arrived in Marenon in the first place. I hate caves, he thought. As the sun began to slowly descend behind the trees, Alric announced that they had reached Timugo. After another hour of traveling they halted when Alric was satisfied with their location. They had stopped and dismounted amongst a quarry of rocks that surrounded them on all sides. They sat on the damp ground facing Alric who stood in fixed concentration, staring at a set of papers he had retrieved from his saddle. Silas figured the papers were some of the plans for the night. After a few moments went by, he crouched next to them on the ground, eyes not leaving his papers.
“Now we wait,” he told them, glancing up only once.
As they waited, each of them began to look more uncomfortable. Silas watched the others as they fidgeted and squirmed. He knew he would have no comfort until the mission was finished, so he sat, unmoving. The pressure was high and
Silas was not sure of the reason. He was nervous, of course, but these people had done this a thousand times and they acted as if it were their first time. Their eyes darted to each other in the soundless night, with only the occasional murmur of uneasiness.
When it was time to begin, Alric gathered them together atop a small mesa looking out toward the south entrance of Timugo, home of the Anwyn people. Alric pointed at one cave opening in particular. It was a large rock that stood above the rest with very few trees around it. In the rock was a gaping hole leading downward to a maze deep under the earth.
“That’s our way in,” he said.
“There’s no guard?” Silas asked.
“There are,” Alric answered. “They just aren’t where you’d expect them to be.” He looked back at each of their faces. “Everyone ready and know what to do?”
All of them nodded and Silas pulled out the map he had been given by Alric the night before.
“That’s the way to the staff,” Alric assured him. “Remember, get there as fast as you can, and out even faster. Can you understand the map alright?”
Silas nodded. The map was simple and straightforward. There were only two right turns then a left. From there was a long corridor directly to the mark.
“If you’re clearing the way for me, then why can’t I just follow you?” Silas asked.
“Because we’re clearing your exit from the other side,” Alric said. “We are not taking the same path.”
“Will I encounter any Anwyns?”
“Very unlikely I would say,” Alric answered. “At least, until you grab the staff. Then, you just have to be quick.”
The answer was not as comforting as Silas would have liked or as Alric had thought it would be. But, then again, there was nothing comforting about the job at all. They were about to steal from someone that had done no wrong to them. Alric and his crew was not a group that Silas needed to be involved with any longer once they finished helping him find his grandfather.
Each of them followed Alric, guiding their horses by the reigns, toward the entrance of the cave. Their weapons were strapped tight, and accessible at any moment. The only one not carrying a sword was Inga who was focused and ready to blast anyone, calling on the magic within her. Silas had yet to see her in fighting glory, but she must have been good to not even consider carrying a weapon.
They were within ten yards of the cave entrance, when arrows of fire rained down in front of their feet causing Lorcan’s horse to rear back, pulling him with its weight. He placed his hand on the creature and whispered to it, calming its nerves. Within moments, two tall figures dropped from a pair of trees near the entrance of the cave. Another one carrying some sort of spear, climbed out of a compartment in the ground that had been concealed with dirt and leaves. What surprised Silas the most was that these were not people or men at all. From the light of the arrows in the ground he could see that they were an olive green color and much taller than he by at least three heads. They wore what looked to be some sort of tribal clothing covering only the necessary parts. War tattoos were etched across their chests and on their faces. The two that dropped from the trees had more arrows flaming and aimed to fire at the first sign of aggression. The leader held his spear ready.
“Who are you and what is your business in Timugo?” the spear-carrier said.
“My name is Alric Thirsk and we are travelers hoping for a place to rest for the night.”
“Timugo is not a place for Human travelers,” the leader said with finality. “Turn the way you came, and leave.”
Inga walked up beside Alric, a look of distress across her face. “Please let us stay the night.”
The Anwyn guard’s mouth curled downward with obvious ridicule toward the woman and he looked to Alric. “You Humans let your women speak when they should remain in silence. Your kind sickens me. This is your final chance to leave. Go.”
Inga bowed her head and crouched to the ground, letting out a cry of despair. Two guards tightened their grips on their bows. Her crying became louder and Alric stepped back, knowing what would come next.
“What is she doing?” The guard said. “Stop her now!”
Then as quickly as her cry came, it left and was replaced with a loud scream. With the scream came a burst of blue light throwing all three guards back into the rock, sending flaming arrows flying in two directions. All of them were on the ground, unarmed and unconscious.
“You killed them didn’t you?” Coffman asked.
Inga shook her head angrily. “I should have, but they’ll live.”
Alric moved ahead, leaving his horse behind. “It’s time to move,” he said. “Coffman, Inga, come with me. Lorcan, tie up these guards and meet us around at the east entrance with the horses.” He looked at Silas. “Are you ready?”
The answer didn’t matter. He was either ready and going or not ready and going anyway. He gave Alric a nod of affirmation and gripped the hilt of the sword that Lorcan had thrown at him the day before. Without a word, Alric, Coffman and Inga went into the cave. Before Silas took a step, Lorcan grabbed his arm firmly. Silas froze, unsure what might happen next.
“Don’t get yourself killed,” he said.
Silas said nothing, confused by the conflicting signals coming from the Erellen.
Lorcan let go of his arm and Silas hesitantly began his trek into the cave. The word of caution from Lorcan was unexpected to say the least.
The entrance was dark and gloomy. Silas held the map in front of his face, barely able to see where to go. The directions were simple, but he was taking no chances. There was no sign of the other three that had gone on before him. He hoped that there wouldn’t be a need to clear a path. He followed the map until he came to the first right turn and further on to the next right turn. One more turn, he thought. He kept walking and walking. After a few minutes he decided to pick up the pace. A sense of apprehension began to fill him as the stone path stretched out longer that he had expected. Did the map indicate the next turn would be so far? His brisk walk turned into a run. The dim blue light could not be explained, but his path was still eerily illuminated. There was no sign of any Anwyns. This was a relief, but he had been on this path so long that he was beginning to think that he had missed the last turn.
Minutes passed.
What if he hadn’t seen the turn? Was he running right into an ambush? What would they do if they caught him? The map never suggested that the path was so long. He must have missed it. After long minutes of running, he stopped abruptly and fell to his knees, breathless. How could I have missed the last turn? Panic was beginning to set in. If he could not find the next turn there would be no getting the staff, thus no finding his grandfather. Alric said everything had to be done within fifteen minutes. It had been at least eight minutes already. Silas wasn’t sure what had to be done to get the staff anyway. Was it sealed? Would it be protected? There was no way of knowing. The questions he never thought to ask before now flooded his mind.
He looked behind him, wondering if he should go back to look for the left turn. Having missed it would ruin the whole operation. He weighed the options in his mind and finally decided to keep moving forward. He knew he didn’t miss it. He couldn’t have. He moved quicker and gradually began to pick up the pace until he was running again. It was almost a full minute later when he saw it. The path he ran went straight, but another cut to the left. He hadn’t missed it! According to the map this would be the path that led directly to the staff.
Going at a jogger’s pace he found that the map was true, however off-scale it was. The footpath led to a large open room. It looked to be perfectly square and the smooth stone walls were covered with many types of markings and pictures. If Silas were to guess, he would say that it was a pictorial history of the Anwyn people, with colorful carvings depicting times of peace and war.
The ceiling was high, at least fifty feet. It too bore the history of the Anwyn people. In what order the history began or ended, Silas could not determine. It
was a spectacular sight. Much like the path had glowed, so too did the rock walls within this room, but much more vibrantly. If Silas had not been frightened for his life he would have taken the time to admire such beauty and craftsmanship. On the other side of the room was a large wooden double door, and according to the map, this was Silas’ exit.
And in the center of the room was the prize, the item that would lead him ultimately to his grandfather. The staff was not as wondrous as Silas would have expected. It stood upright in the middle of the room above a short stone pedestal, magically floating inches off the surface. The staff was straight except for the top, which was crooked and gnarled. It was not tall and would probably only reach to Silas’ neck while standing, and the surface had a finished smoothness to it. It was certainly a nice staff, but surely this wasn’t all they had come for. Silas wondered what the others were going after. What could be so special about this staff? In Marenon, anything could be special about it, Silas thought. For all he knew it carried brilliant magical powers or perhaps it was a key to some hidden treasure. Either way, it did not matter to Silas. Once he grabbed it, he would not have much time to get to the exit as planned. He walked slowly to the floating object as his heart raced. He did not feel prepared to fight a horde of Anwyns. He hoped the others had done their job in clearing a path for his exit.
The Marenon Chronicles Collection Page 18