The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  Inside the cloak sat both medallions where he had left them. They were not going into the hands of another, at least not until there was a sufficient reason. Garland motioned for Julian to follow and out of his chambers they went. Silently, Julian trailed Garland through various corridors and passageways until they came to a statue. It was a statue of King Harold, the first Human king of Marenon. The man had nothing to do with the Dunarians for the Dunarians had come about long after King Harold’s time. But Garland felt that based on texts, King Harold was the one king that the Dunarians mapped their philosophy after. Julian had known this story and knew that if there had ever been a statue made of his father, surely it would be standing next to King Harold. Julian’s father had been nothing but supportive of the Dunarians and had given them a hope for existence after so much war.

  “Why are we stopping?” he asked.

  Garland stood staring at the life size statue of a king in full, royal armor. “Holden knows about this, but he has never found a way in. He and I have had our differences over the years, so I had never found a reason to trust him with this information.”

  “What information?”

  “The entrance to Marenon’s Map.”

  Julian’s eyes lit up, anticipating what would happen next. He was about to witness something that few in Marenon had ever seen.

  Garland crouched low to the ground and reached out his hands to touch the feet of the statue. With his eyes closed he muttered only a small Erellen word. “Shelinsa.” With a groan, the wall and the statue swung open slowly inward. Past the opening was a long, dark corridor leading to a stairwell going down.

  Garland smiled at Julian and motioned him forward. “After you,” he said.

  Once the two were inside, the secret door closed shut behind them.

  “I’m about to take you to the place where The Reckoning was conceived,” Garland said. “It’s down the stairs a ways.”

  Several unlit torches lined the walls and Garland grabbed one for himself. He closed his eyes and in a second the torch was lit, illuminating their path to the stairs.

  “Who else knows how to get down here?” Julian asked.

  “Just me and Kaden. He was the first one that I recruited for the Dunarian Council.”

  Julian knew this piece of information as well. It was no secret that Garland and Kaden had become close friends during the beginning of the Dunarians. Garland had seen the potential in the young man and taught him everything he had learned in the world of Marenon. The relationship of master and apprentice had changed to brotherhood. The story was similar to that of Kaden and Julian except for their recent snag before Kaden took off to try and rescue Silas from the Stühocs. They each felt justified in their positions and had come to an impasse, but Julian regretted how they had left things. Kaden’s capture laid a heavy guilt on his shoulders but there was nothing Julian could do about it yet.

  They traveled down the stairs for several minutes, their footsteps echoing off the stark walls. Garland told Julian that they were descending deep under the fortress of Jekyll Rock. He told him that in the old days, it had proven to be a wonderful hiding place and would be so again should there ever be a siege of the castle. The entrance would never even be found by most. But if it were found, it would take significant force and magic to break through the barrier. He also told him that the way it was structured, there was no way that anyone hiding could be burned out along with the castle. Although it was connected, the passageway and refuge that held Marenon’s Map was completely sealed away from the rest of Jekyll Rock. It was a large bunker within a much larger fortress.

  Finally, they reached the bottom and came to a large wooden door. “It’s been years since I’ve stepped foot in here,” Garland said.

  Together they opened the wooden frame and stepped into a massive room. Almost instantly there was illumination in the room from an unseen source, revealing a comfortable living area. On the two sides of the room were broad archways leading to corridors with rooms. Garland explained that there were various living quarters, a rather large kitchen and other amenities throughout. There was another archway opposite the entrance. Past that particular archway was a passage leading to one small door.

  “What’s that lead to?” Julian asked pointing.

  “That, Julian, is why we have come down here.”

  “Marenon’s Map,” Julian said as wonder and excitement lit his face.

  Garland nodded and together they walked through the comfortable living area and through the opposite archway. The hall was long and dark. The door at the end was shrouded in shadows, almost invisible. When they reached the door they stood for a moment.

  Garland gave a long look to Julian. “What you have seen today and what you are about to see is strictly private. I show you all of this not because you have earned my trust nor that I have found you to be worthy of this information. Simply put, you are the only one that can help me. You are the only one that there is to trust.”

  Julian raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said.

  “Consider it a return favor for your vote of confidence in front of the council that I created.”

  Julian could feel his cheeks go red. He had treated Garland horribly in the beginning. There had been no call for it, but at the time he had only been mindful of his mission. To Julian’s surprise, Garland simply opened the wooden door without passwords or locks.

  “If one has made it this far into the secret lair, there would be no stopping that person from getting to Marenon’s Map,” Garland said, sensing Julian’s questioning stare.

  The open door revealed another enormous chamber, except this time it was not one built for comfort. It was specifically built for Marenon’s Map. The room looked as if it were made out of the rock facing itself, which Julian imagined was the case. The gray, stone walls, plain and undecorated were identical accept for one. The wall opposite of the doorway stood at a slant with jagged, rocky edges. Several feet in front of the wall was what looked like a sundial without the upper attachment to catch the sun’s rays. The hexagonal top of the stone table had six carved, round slots around the sides. Each of them was painted a specific color. Julian figured this was where each medallion would have to be placed for Marenon’s Map to operate.

  “Marenon’s Map is the ultimate weapon,” Garland said. “Each medallion allows us to view the corresponding land area at any distance, close or far. With all six medallions, one would be able to see when an enemy is coming, or in our case, search for a missing person. It is the eyes of Marenon and no one can detect its magic, so you can watch with anonymity. It is a dangerous tool, but advantageous nonetheless. In any hands this could be used to destroy an enemy. You can find their weak spots easily. You could direct full-scale wars within the confines of this room.”

  Julian had heard this much about the map. It truly would make for a great tool in the Dunarian’s mission.

  “You need Canor’s medallion to see Canor,” Garland continued. “You need Mudavé’s medallion to see Mudavé. And we need Timugo’s medallion to see where Silas and the others are at this instant,” he said glancing at Julian’s cloak where the medallions sat. “They wouldn’t be within the Stühoc’s territory yet, I don’t believe,” he explained.

  Julian hesitantly reached for the medallions in his cloak and handed Garland the purple-jeweled medallion of Farlaweer, then the white-jeweled medallion of Timugo. Garland took them in gracious acceptance.

  He placed Farlaweer’s medallion in the purple crevice, letting the chain dangle off the side. Instantly, like a moving picture, Julian watched as one sixth of the map illuminated before him. It was the most magnificent sight he had ever seen. It was a view of Marenon as if he were watching it from the sky. The rest of the map was black and void, but one-sixth of the map, stretching from Berato to the edges of Farlaweer, was vibrant.

  “With the command of thought, you can move anywhere within the province of Farlaweer,” Garland said as he moved the map
to zoom in on King Morgan’s castle, specifically a pair of guards marching along the walls.

  “That’s what’s happening now?”

  Garland nodded. “You can see why this would be so advantageous to have,” he said. “One could memorize the routes and times of any guard. You could learn what fighting techniques are being taught to various enemies, and in turn, teach your men to counteract them. You could see what shipments are more vulnerable than others for interception. It’s all here.”

  “And that’s why it’s so important to get Mudavé’s medallion,” Julian said.

  “Exactly,” Garland said. “However, more is needed than that. It is believed that having all six medallions not only gives you the power to see all of Marenon, but to control certain aspects of it.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as weather, or ‘natural’ disasters. All of which are too meticulous to control on a consistent basis, but when fighting an enemy, it would prove unstoppable.”

  “One would become a god of Marenon?”

  “Essentially a god of war,” Garland said. “Your strength would be derived from a powerful magic. In the wrong hands, all would be lost. That is why this lair is such a secret.”

  “If it’s so secretive then why are you telling me about it just to help you get Silas back?”

  Garland watched two of the guards taking a break from their post, smoking their long pipes. “Because,” he said solemnly, “I believe Silas to be even more powerful than this weapon you see standing before you. Silas is the Meshulan and he will deliver Marenon from the Stühocs.” He looked at Julian with a grave seriousness fixed upon his face. “But he’s going to need your help. For all we know, you and Nalani are the only ones he will be able to trust on this council.”

  “So, that’s the version you believe? Silas is to save Marenon from the Stühocs?”

  “It’s all I believe,” Garland said, turning his gaze back to the map. “It will be Silas that is responsible for getting the rest of the medallions and it is he that will use this weapon to eradicate the Stühocs. It is Silas that will find out why we are here at all.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Julian asked.

  “The Reckoning isn’t just about ridding ourselves from fear of the Stühocs, Julian. It’s about finding out why Humans are in Marenon in the first place. It’s finding out why there are some of us chosen to be here and why most are not. That is the ultimate goal for the Dunarian cause. It always has been, regardless of what others have made it to be.”

  Julian was surprised to be hearing this. Never had he been told of a plot to uncover the mystery of humanity’s existence in Marenon. Sure, many had wondered and many had pursued knowledge of the mystery, but never had it been the goal of the Dunarians as far as Julian had known. Kaden hadn’t even told him this. But this was coming from the founder of the Dunarians himself.

  “That may be your personal goal, Garland, but you won’t find a Dunarian that doesn’t think the foremost objective is to get rid of the Stühocs.”

  “The objective is to defeat them, of course,” Garland answered. “I suspect that is part of the reason we Humans are here. Only by continuing with our planned course of action will we ever know.”

  Julian nodded at the man’s words. Hearing the objectives of the Dunarians from the founder himself was somewhat surreal. Julian had not been smitten with the Ainsley’s as others had been, but in that moment, he felt more proud to be on the Dunarian Council than ever before.

  “There are a few reasons we need to get Silas away from Mudavé,” Garland said, cutting into his thoughts. “I fear he will be captured. I’ve given my life to avoid his imprisonment by the Stühocs. The Stühocs are possessors. Many times they will torture their enemies for information and many times they will kill their captured foe without regard. But when a potentially powerful enemy is captured, they will try to possess them. I cannot allow that to happen to Silas.”

  “Is that what is happening to Kaden?” Julian asked.

  Garland nodded. “It is. But we planned it that way.”

  “You what?” Julian was stunned.

  “Since Kaden and I planned The Reckoning, we knew that Silas would probably have to be killed and the other would be captured. But whoever was captured, would convert to the Stühoc’s side and gain access to information, and ultimately their medallion.”

  “But that could take months!” Julian said.

  Garland shrugged. “Possibly. Perhaps not. The Stühocs are not the most patient beings in Marenon. If Kaden has not been killed, then we think that he could be ‘converted’ within six months. That way, he would soon have access to everything and we will hopefully have the medallion shortly after.”

  “And what if he is actually converted?”

  There was a long silence. Then Garland spoke. “It is certainly a possibility, but that is the devotion that Kaden has to The Reckoning. And if the Stühocs decided to use him as a ransom instead of converting him, Kaden is prepared to die for the cause.”

  Julian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was hard to take in. How could one live all those years, knowing that their life might one day lie in the hands of the Stühocs? Julian wondered if he could ever have such courage.

  Garland placed the medallion of Timugo in its designated slot and instantly another sixth of the map, directly below the section of Farlaweer, was illuminated. The middle of Marenon shown brightly in the room while the sides of the map remained bare. The two of them searched for several minutes looking for any sign of flying sarians when they finally spotted them soaring through the Midland Pass. They noticed that a storm had been brewing in the middle of Marenon. Garland willed the map with his mind to move in on Silas and the others. A look of determination and anger was spread across Silas’ face. He was tired and Garland could see it. He felt sick for what he had put the boy through because he knew Silas had never asked for any of this. Now he was walking into something that put the entire cause in danger.

  Garland placed his hands on the table in front of him and watched as the dark clouds flashed and the rain fell. Silas and the others were soaked to the bone, having to wipe at their eyes every couple of seconds. The sarian’s feathers were being weighed down heavily. They would tire soon and have to land. After a long moment, Garland turned away from the map and looked at Julian.

  “That storm has slowed them down,” he said. “They are a day’s flight ahead of us. If we travel now and don’t stop, we can possibly reach them before they get to Mudavé. We’ll be cutting it close. The rain could stop soon, so we should hurry.

  Julian nodded. He never seemed to get a break from these adventures.

  “I’ll tell Nalani where we’re going,” he said.

  Garland nodded, feeling uneasy about the situation. They were out of time and the fate of the Dunarians hung loosely by a thread.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The group had made camp late into the night. The sarians were too exhausted to keep going and their riders were more so. The torrential downpour that had occurred in the afternoon had slowed them considerably, Alric had said.

  They settled in a ravine somewhere in the foothills of the Reemlock Mountains, not daring to make a fire for fear of being found by a lurking Stühoc or something else that might get the inclination to attack them. Lorcan had a hard time falling asleep. He was shaking more and more the closer they came to the Stühoc city. Inga tried to comfort him and she even used her magic to try and calm his nerves, but nothing worked until his tired body took over and put him to sleep.

  While the others slept, Silas’ sprinting mind kept his eyes wide open. The sounds in the night were haunting and his thoughts raced. He wondered why Lorcan was so terrified of the Stühocs. He had fought gallantly with him in Timugo. What was different here?

  By this time tomorrow Silas would be deep in Stühoc territory. He knew nothing of where he was going and knew even less about what he would face. For all he knew he wouldn’t even make it i
nto Mudavé, and he feared that if he did, there would be no chance of freeing Kaden. He was being foolish, he knew. The closer he got to Mudavé the more he realized he was placing himself in an impossible situation. Alric and the others would not take him much further. Then he was on his own. But he was the Meshulan, right? If there really was some sort of prophecy about him being the deliverer then perhaps there was nothing that could touch him. Perhaps he couldn’t die again. He had been lucky in surviving so far, what with the gauntlet and the run-in with the Anwyns. He should feel untouchable.

  But he then recalled what his grandfather had said about his fate being unsure. Neither Silas, nor anyone else, knew who or what he would deliver. Perhaps his feeling of invincibility was unwarranted. Perhaps he was the Meshulan but he could still die.

  Maybe he could accidentally break the prophecy. No one even knew if the prophecy was true. It could have been a hoax to give Marenon a false hope in a time of need. No. Silas couldn’t live like he was untouchable. He wasn’t indestructible and he knew it. Danger lurked around every corner. Lives were at stake. This was no time to act reckless. Then and there on the ground in the screeching night, Silas decided that he was going to live as though there was no such thing as a Meshulan. He would not live thinking he was invincible. He knew that doing so would either get him killed or place him and others in a lot more danger than they needed to be.

  Eventually, Silas somehow slept. His dreams were vivid. He saw revelations of war and fighting. He saw himself at the top of a mountain, a shining sword in hand, Stühocs surrounding him. His grandfather lay on the ground injured from battle. Alric, Inga and others were fighting countless Stühocs, keeping them away from Silas. Then there was Maroke, grinning with ferocity. Fear drove deep within Silas as Maroke raised his sword, about to strike Silas with everything he had. Am I about to die?