The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  He also thought about the four medallions the Dunarians now possessed. The blue medallion of Canor, the white medallion of Timugo, the purple medallion of Farlaweer and the red medallion of Mudavé were all safe. Only a precious few knew they were now hidden underneath Jekyll Rock where only Kaden had access. Thanks to Garland, Julian also had access to the lower chambers of Jekyll Rock, but this was something he kept to himself. The less others knew about his knowledge, the safer he was. Until Julian and the others were able to obtain the other two medallions, the green medallion of the Erellens and the orange medallion of the Nestorians, there was no need to use any of the others, at least not yet.

  Next to the golden key in his pocket lay the folded letter that his brother Morgan had given him. Julian had taken Garland’s advice and read the letter instead of destroying it, as he would have originally liked to do. He read the letter continuously until he had it memorized. He reread the message in his head, paying close attention to every word, every sentence, just to make sure it said what it blatantly meant to say.

  To the esteemed Julian Hobbes,

  I write this letter to you not only as your brother, but also as your king. As king it is my duty to choose a successor before my time in this land is done. By neglecting to do so, I leave the throne to ones whom I do not desire to sit upon it.

  It is with many hours of thought and long heartfelt reflection that I name you, Julian Hobbes, as my successor to the throne at Farlaweer, to rule over Humankind throughout all of Marenon. Do not think of accepting this responsibility as an honor to your brother or king, (for I have been neither to you), but to the honor of Marenon. It can be better served by one with values that hold true to the principles of our father and those that wish and have always wished for the betterment of Humankind.

  A copy of this letter has been personally handed to the royal magistrate by my own hand, along with the instructions to tell no one of its existence, or to contact you unless you specifically ask for it. I hope you will accept this responsibility. You would make our land stronger and our father proud.

  Your King, your brother,

  Morgan Hobbes

  Julian had told no one about the letter, not even Nalani. He would eventually have to, of course, but there was much more work to be done. Within days Julian would be king over Humankind in Marenon and there was nothing the Stühocs could do to stop it. This, he knew, would be the path to destroying the Stühocs, fulfilling The Reckoning. He couldn’t help the pain that stabbed his heart, however. That night he and his brother fought on the balcony would forever haunt his dreams. Morgan was trying to reconcile with Julian and Julian had let him die. It was a hard truth that he was going to have to live with. He did, however, find some satisfaction in the death of Holden and Maroke, for the two were instrumental in his father’s death. Ruben Hobbes had been avenged.

  The fire was lit. Julian felt sad for Silas that he had to come back into Marenon the way he did. He came into life as every other Human had in Marenon. There was no peace. There would be no peace until the Stühocs were gone. He pulled Nalani closer to him and kissed the side of her head. As long as Julian was alive, the fight for peace would go on. He now held the power to make peace happen.

  *****

  Silas held to his staff with one hand and wiped his eyes with the other as he watched his grandfather’s pyre burn brighter than the setting sun. It had been several days since their fight had taken place on the fortress plateau in Mudavé, and now Silas was being hailed as a hero throughout the city of Jekyll Rock. He didn’t feel like a hero, however. He felt as if he had lost everything. There was no direction for him to go. He knew he had to find the Gatekeeper, but that was all he knew. He didn’t know if he had the strength to ask more questions, and he certainly was not ready to search all of Marenon for some elusive man. Kaden was there, however, ready to take the next step with Silas when the time was right. He had promised to help Silas along the way and to get him ready for the months to come. The defeat of Maroke was only a small step in the right direction, Kaden had told him. There was much more work left to do and much more to be planned in The Reckoning.

  Two hands gently grabbed ahold of Silas’ arm. Inga. Even amid his grieving, he felt a jolt in his heart every time he saw her. He was glad to see that Inga, Coffman, Lorcan and even Alric had decided to stay in the city of Jekyll Rock for a while. Alric joked that the Dunarians had paid him enough to retire, but Silas knew that none of them wanted to leave. He never asked, but he thought that perhaps Alric and the others had finally found what they had been looking for. Perhaps instead of going from job to job for money, helping the Dunarians was what best suited them. The decision about whether they would be granted a position with the Dunarians had yet to be determined. Many tasks were put on hold out of respect for Garland.

  Every sarian, except for Skarret, soared overhead, honoring their fallen leader. The injury to Skarret was harsh and painful, Dublin had told them, and the creature wouldn’t be flying for several weeks.

  Silas learned before the ceremony that funerals in Marenon were extremely rare for Humans. Most people did not desire to be observed more than once, but for someone with such renown as Garland Ainsley, a funeral was expected. It was a symbol of honor and respect.

  He looked across the way and saw two men standing tall and strong, almost angelic. Their blonde hair and slender build gave away what they were, but who was a mystery. They were Erellens, perhaps friends of Garland’s or maybe they had fought beside him many years ago. He sighed and looked at Kaden.

  “So, what happens next?”

  Kaden turned his head from the flames to meet Silas’ eyes. “From the beginning I swore to protect you, Silas.” Kaden paused for a moment then continued. “The best way for me to do that is to train you for the fight ahead. Defeating Maroke was a victory, but it was a small victory. The Stühoc King Anithistor still drives his legions to a deeper hatred. A fallen general is easy to replace in his eyes.”

  Silas shuddered slightly and turned his gaze back to the fire. He watched the smoke that rose into the darkening sky, feeling the pain of losing his grandfather again.

  Wherever Garland was this time, he hoped that he was finally getting some peace and quiet.

  The thought made him smile.

  Book Two:

  The Gatekeeper

  Chapter One

  Silas Ainsley was no stranger to death, but that didn’t mean they were friends. Even in this afterlife, death seemed to pursue him with vehemence.

  The arrow flew at a blinding speed, finally embedding itself into the tree only inches from his head, as he dropped to the ground for safety. Whoever shot it had not intended to miss.

  The trees surrounding him in the wooded terrain provided sufficient cover, but he would not be able to stay there for long. He glanced to the sky, noting that the light was fading, giving him maybe an hour before darkness stole the sky completely. He had been trying to track Kaden and Inga for a while now as part of his training. The three of them had gone into the woods just outside the city of Jekyll Rock during the early afternoon. They were teaching him to use magic. He had no sword, no bow and arrows. He also had not been allowed to carry the mystical staff of Uriah he obtained just over three months before. He had only been allowed to use the power of his mind; the magical power that flowed through his veins: the power of the Meshulan.

  He knew the arrow that had missed him by inches was not from Kaden or Inga. They never fired at him, but only shouted, letting Silas know that he had left himself vulnerable and it was time to try again. Also, Inga never carried a weapon. Her magical powers were stronger and more effective than any sword or arrow could ever be. No. This was someone else. Someone who wanted Silas dead.

  He knew he couldn’t stay on the ground. The would-be assassin saw him drop for cover, and would have obviously seen the arrow miss. Silas strained to hear any sort of sound; leaves rustling or twigs breaking under the pursuant foot of the assassin, but he heard nothing.
Perhaps the attacker was watching for Silas to peek his head from behind the bushes, an arrow fixed in front of a trained eye that would not miss a second time. He had the gut-wrenching feeling that the assassin was on the move. He didn’t hear it. He didn’t see it. He could feel it.

  Taking short, shallow breaths he dug his elbows into the dirt beneath him, pulling himself forward as quickly as possible. He knew he could not escape the shooter this way, but perhaps he could crawl to another point in the woods before he began to run. If his attacker was expecting him to stay still, this could heighten his chance of being missed by a second arrow. He wished that he had gotten a good look at whoever was after him. A brief glimpse was all he managed before taking to the ground; and all he had seen was a dark figure, possibly wearing a mask, but he wasn’t sure.

  After a few more seconds of inching his way on the ground by his elbows and knees, he knew he could not keep moving in such a way. If the assassin caught up to him, Silas would be dead in a moment. He stood to a low crouch, in the hopes that the trees safely hid him from his follower. The assassin could be flanking Silas from either direction. With this in mind, Silas took off in a sprint, praying another arrow didn’t follow. As fast as his legs would allow, he ran in a zigzag pattern, jumping over fallen branches through the thick of the woods. The enemy would have a difficult time aiming directly at Silas with the sun going down, and tracking him would become more difficult. He didn’t doubt the assassin’s ability to find him in the dark, however.

  He thought about Kaden and Inga. They would eventually start looking for him and shouting out his name to let him know that they were finished for the day. The pursuer would obviously hear them and perhaps kill them as well. Both of them were highly trained and competent individuals, but an unexpected arrow could kill even the greatest of warriors.

  Silas had been on their trail for the last thirty minutes and was very close to tracking them down before the assassin had taken his shot. He wished more than ever that he had his staff. The staff of Uriah was a tremendous weapon that turned into anything the bearer needed in a moment of trouble. Silas almost never let the weapon out of his sight since he had used it to kill the Stühoc leader Maroke, but it now inconveniently rested in a strap across Kaden’s back.

  After several long minutes of running as fast as he could, he stopped to listen, which proved difficult with his labored breathing. Apart from his own tired body, all he could hear was the summer wind blowing through the leaves above him, masking any sort of movement that could give him an indication of where his attacker might be. It didn’t matter. Silas knew he had not run far enough, and running was not necessarily the answer. It would only be a matter of time before the assassin tracked him down, and Jekyll Rock was in the opposite direction of where Silas now headed.

  As his breathing calmed, he rested his body against a tree. Running away might have given him temporary respite, but he knew something else needed to be done. He searched the forest ground for something that might help him: a rock, a solid stick, anything. A few feet away he spotted a fallen tree branch and hurried to it. He grabbed one end and yanked up while he kicked at the middle with is foot. A loud crack echoed through the trees as the branch split in two. Silas winced and glanced up, fearing he had just given away his position. He hoped the branch’s usefulness would outweigh the risk. The split end seemed sharp enough to stab, but it was more about the comfort of holding something in his hands to make him feel less vulnerable. The stick would be no match against a trained fighter, but it was something tangible unlike the magic he had not even come close to mastering.

  He leaned against the tree again and took a deep breath. Magic. He had been learning it at a rapid pace for the past three months, but that didn’t mean he was any good at it. Every time he used it, he felt drained and exhausted. Inga was a good teacher, but her abilities far surpassed Silas, which left him feeling like he could never be as skilled. He needed the magic to flow through him now more than ever. He had learned mostly defensive magic; they had spent little time on attacking. But perhaps that would help him here.

  He tried to calm his mind, letting the magic of Marenon flow through him like a stream. He could feel it in his chest, his arms. He was going to use what he was best at. Defense. The shield he had been taught to use was effective, but the amount of time he could keep the green bubble of light around his body amounted to very little. His greatest strength was his ability to fight with a weapon, however, and he still felt most comfortable with a sword. But the branch would have to do. He would attack first and defend second.

  He waited for several moments, listening more intently for any sign of the assassin. Above the whisper of the wind-rustled leaves in the treetops, he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer. The steps were slow and light, revealing that the walker was being cautious, anticipating his prey to be very near. Silas had not had the chance to cover his tracks and he had been easily followed. He hoped that the stick in his hands would prove effective. There would be only one chance to take out his pursuer.

  The sounds of each step became louder as his tracker came closer to Silas’ exact location. This was it. With his back against the tree, Silas took in a deep breath and gripped the stick tightly like a spear. He waited until he was sure the assassin was only a few feet away. He closed his eyes one more time, gathering the strength within him to show no mercy, and to strike for the kill. With a scream like a wild man, Silas spun around with the sharp end of the wood, aiming for the assassin’s head. As he stabbed, the assassin swung his sword around and cut the stick in half, falling to the ground in the process. Silas stood unmoving when he saw the man flailing on the ground letting out swears and grunts. This was no assassin.

  “Kaden?” Silas said, confused.

  Kaden slapped his hand on the dirt, a look of anger on his face. “This is about magic, Silas! You aren’t supposed to attack with a weapon.”

  Silas was unsure of what to say at first. Had Kaden been the one to fire the arrow at him? “I thought you were someone else,” he said.

  Kaden pulled himself up from the ground and brushed off the leaves that clung to his hunting cloak and thick, brown and gray beard. “Who else would I be Silas? It was either me or Inga.”

  “Did you fire an arrow at me earlier?”

  “When?”

  “Just a minute ago.”

  Kaden shook his head. “Inga wouldn’t have either.”

  “Exactly my point. Someone else is in these woods! Come on!”

  Kaden heeded Silas’ words and followed him to cover behind a set of trees. They lowered themselves to the ground, searching for any sign that someone else might be near.

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “No,” Silas said. “He was wearing dark clothes, maybe a mask. I couldn’t tell. I felt the arrow go by and I took off.”

  Kaden nodded, his eyes darting in every direction around the tree. He quickly unstrapped the staff of Uriah from his back and handed it to Silas. Once Silas’ hands wrapped round the staff, it instantly turned into a bow and arrow. They both glanced down at the weapon then to each other.

  “That must mean he’s within range,” Silas whispered.

  Kaden acknowledged this by resting his sword upright against the tree and pulling his own bow and arrow from his back.

  “I’m jealous of your weapon, Silas Ainsley,” Kaden said as he readied the arrow.

  Kaden had a right to be jealous. The staff of Uriah had been extremely useful to Silas and he had grown to depend on it. In their training, Silas had seen the staff turn into many weapons including a sword, bow and arrow, mace and a spear. It had even turned into a shield on one occasion. However, only Silas was able to wield the staff effectively. No other Human was able to use it. The magic of the staff only worked for someone who was born in Marenon, and since Silas was the only Human to fit that requirement, he was the only one with the ability to use the staff.

  There was such a mystery surrounding the reason
Humans were in Marenon. Nobody understood why, but some Humans who died on Earth, were sent to Marenon to live. But there were limits to the life they could have. No Human could reproduce in Marenon. No Human had ever been born here. None, that is, until Silas. His father had been Human and his mother, Erellen. The Erellens were the fair-skinned race of beings, who resided in the northeast region of Marenon. But surely his parents had not been the only Human and Erellen couple to have existed. Silas was the fulfillment of a prophecy that the first Human to be born in Marenon would be the Meshulan, the Erellen word for deliverer.

  Initially, there was some speculation as to whom Silas would be delivering, for the prophecy awkwardly left out this piece of information. However, with Silas’ defeat over the Stühoc lord, Maroke, he had made his decision. His purpose was to deliver all of Marenon from the oppressive Stühocs. That was the reason Kaden had been training Silas so intensively, and why Silas’ responsibility was so much greater than it had ever before. That was probably why someone was sent to kill him.

  Silas held the bow and arrow ready in his arms, searching carefully for the assassin. The staff did not direct Silas to where the danger lurked; it only equipped him with the proper tool. Sometimes Silas felt like the staff was training him, as Julian Hobbes had told him before they had entered Mudavé. He knew the staff would begin to give him more control as he became more proficient. He had not yet mastered what weapon would be best for every situation, and it had not yet let him choose. At times this was frustrating, but it kept him out of his comfort zone, which Kaden said was a good thing. It also made his training more effective. The staff’s unwillingness to allow Silas to choose his weapon was invaluable now because it let him know that the assassin was in range to be shot with an arrow, but not close enough to be fought with a sword.