The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  Robin hovered over him, their eyes meeting. “I’m sorry, Kaden.”

  Kaden took a deep breath and shouted as loudly as he could. “Do something! Stop him! Do something!” He was met by a punch in the face by one of the guards, but he knew his voice had carried out over the crowd below, and that Lorcan would hear it and spring into action.

  Lorcan pushed through the crowd, still trying hard to make it to the spot nearest the hanging platform. The executioner looked up to Julian, eagerly awaiting the order to pull the lever. Too many people! Lorcan hated to do this, but it was all he could do with the time he had. He closed his eyes, and let out a shout. A blue light followed, erupting through the confused crowd, throwing people in every direction. Lorcan pushed with all his might, his shoves and screams forming a path through the crowd. As he neared the platform, a guard stepped in front of him to block his path, but Lorcan sent another magical blue force that was too much for the man, and he was tossed away like a ragdoll.

  The executioner stood rigid, still waiting. As he ran, Lorcan glanced to the balcony only to see Julian nod. He turned to see the executioner nod in acceptance of the order.

  “Julian!” Kaden yelled as he struggled with the guards. “They’re called Sleepers! There are seven, but the council members are not part of them!”

  “What?” Julian turned sharply.

  “Those council members are not the enemy! The real Sleepers are still roaming free!”

  Julian hesitated at this new information, and turned to shout out the order to stay the execution for a moment. But his cry was drowned out by the crowd and the shouts of Lorcan Zamire.

  Lorcan leapt onto the platform, just as the executioner pulled the lever. With a mighty swing of his sword he was able to cut the ropes of Katherine and Darius and they fell through the platform to the ground, hopefully without injury. He lunged to try and cut the ropes of Myron and Quincy, but he was too late. The rope had gone taut and their fragile necks had snapped instantly.

  He was able to pull Katherine and Darius out of the small pit, just as more guards made their way to the platform. Quickly, Lorcan sliced the ropes from Katherine and Darius’ wrists. Just as her bonds were free, Katherine was met with an arrow in the chest.

  “No!” It was Darius. He caught her on her way down, as Lorcan did his best to create a small, green shield around them, deflecting any more arrows. Everyone in the crowd was shouting, screaming, drowning out the cries of the king from above.

  The executioner stomped forward carrying a massive sword, ready to slice through the Erellen. Before he could reach any of them, the voice from above was finally heard. The executioner stopped in his tracks to look up at the yelling king.

  “Stop!” Julian screamed, blinded with anger. He spun to face a bloodied and battered Kaden who was now being held up by the two guards. “What are you saying?”

  “You wouldn’t let me tell you,” Kaden said. “You’re always so full of your own ideas that you refuse to listen to anyone else. It’s always been your worst trait!”

  Julian said nothing to this, still waiting for an answer.

  “King Jiaros Florelle said there were seven in all; the Stühocs possessed seven people in order to bring down all of us.”

  “How do you know these aren’t them?”

  “I don’t for sure,” Kaden said. “Check their wrists.”

  “Their what?”

  “Their wrists! Jiaros said there might be a marking.”

  Julian scowled at his old master’s words. He stepped over the balcony and ordered the survivors to be brought up into the castle.

  Lorcan watched as Darius tried to stop the bleeding that poured through his fingers, but Katherine was gone. He held his head low, knowing that he had failed Kaden by letting three of the four council members die. Darius said nothing, but looked achingly back at Katherine’s body as the guards ushered them up into the castle. His anger was amplified as the blood of his fellow council member dripped down his wrists and off his fingertips, leaving a trail of innocence behind him.

  More guards surrounded the king and Robin stood at his side, knowing Darius was angry enough to do something reckless. They were not mistaken in this assumption. When he walked through the door, he lunged for the king, letting out a string of curses, vowing to extinguish his existence.

  “They’re all dead because of you, traitor! Do you realize you have cost us the war? You’ve doomed all of the Humans, you fool! You killed Katherine!”

  The guards held tightly to Darius, not letting him move an inch. His tears drenched the front of his shirt as he hung his head low. Lorcan noticed too that Kaden was restrained, but he had long given up his fight. All that was left was sorrow. Lorcan could not feel what these men felt in the moment, but he knew the pain of loss. He knew the pain of death. The only thing that kept him from killing the king that moment was the knowledge that it would rob the others of the opportunity. In Lorcan’s opinion, Darius had been right. Julian was a traitor.

  *****

  The pain in all of their eyes cut Julian to the heart. He hated what had happened, but Kaden had yet to present any kind of evidence to show that those executed were not traitors. They didn’t see what Julian had seen. Julian had seen the damning evidence against his former comrades, and they were guilty, possessed or not. Still, Kaden’s words raised a question in his mind.

  “Check his wrist,” Julian ordered.

  Robin reached out to Darius, just as he was told. The dark, restrained man resisted every movement, forcing the guards to apply pain to him in order to pry his hand open. Robin pulled up the sleeves on each arm only to reveal bare skin. No mark of any kind.

  “This means nothing,” Julian said. “I know what I saw. I know what I heard.”

  “You don’t know anything,” Darius spat.

  Kaden raised his head slowly to speak. “Do you keep Spencer in the prison below?”

  Julian looked at him curiously.

  “Tell him you’ve killed the betrayers,” Kaden said. “Check his wrist.”

  “This is pointless,” Julian said. “It doesn’t matter what I’m told! What matters is the proof I hold in my hands right now!” He pulled the memory orb from his pocket, holding it in the air. No one in Marenon’s history had ever been able to fabricate the truth of a memory orb. The memories held in them were always the truth, seen through the eyes of the person who had been there. Holden’s memory orb could not have been tampered with.

  Every eye in the room watched Julian, waiting to see what he would do. He shook his head, knowing they would never be satisfied until he did what Kaden suggested. At one time he had missed his old mentor. He had missed being a part of the Dunarians, but now they were becoming a thorn in his side. He knew he had been rash, he knew he had made quick decisions, but that was how he worked. That was how he lived in this world and it had gotten him this far. He was king of the entire land.

  He looked at Robin. “Give me your sword.”

  “Your Highness?”

  “Give me your sword!”

  Hesitantly, Robin pulled his sword from its sheath and handed it handle-first to the king.

  Sword in hand, Julian stormed out of the room and down the stairs. Robin quickly followed behind him until Julian shouted for him to stay behind. He walked through the corridors, and to the massive door leading to the dungeons connected to the castle. The two guards pulled the wheel to unlock the door, handed him the cell keys, and he rushed through, being sure to leave every door open behind him. As he walked through the dungeons until he reached the cell at the end of the dungeon. He slid the key into Spencer’s cell door and opened it wide.

  For the past few days, Spencer had not been the only prisoner within these walls, but now he was alone again. Julian jogged past the barred cells until he finally reached the closed door at the end of the hallway. He placed the golden key into the door and turned it slowly. The light shined into Spencer’s grimy cell, as the smell of filth and excrement hit Julian’s n
ostrils. Spencer’s brittle frame huddled in the corner, shaking from the cold of the stone floor.

  Julian pulled out the memory orb, holding it out so Spencer could see it.

  “I found the memory orb,” Julian said. “I found it and I made the traitors pay.”

  Spencer turned his greasy head to Julian. “They’re dead? All four of them?”

  “I killed them publicly, so that every person in Marenon would see that treacherous deeds do not go unpunished.”

  Spencer turned his head back into his arms and began to laugh. The laugh started slowly, but became louder and louder with each breath. Julian tried to tell him to stop, but the laughter became uncontrollable, as though the man were a complete maniac having a fit.

  “Quiet!” Julian finally yelled. “Why are you laughing? Your side is losing! Because of me, more enemies are dead!”

  Spencer shook his head, still chuckling softly. “No… No… You got it all wrong.” He turned his face to Julian, pushing himself up against the wall, standing as straight as his frail body would let him. “Today you made us stronger. Today you just made enemies of your most valuable allies. Now they’ll never fight beside you.”

  “What are you talking about? I have the memory orb. It’s real. I’ve seen it.”

  Spencer let out another laugh. “You’ve seen what we wanted you to see. Holden did have those memories. There was a meeting, right?”

  Julian said nothing as a terrible pit of fear grew inside his stomach.

  “Yes, it was,” Spencer said for him. “That’s what Holden remembered because that’s what we wanted him to remember!”

  “We?”

  “Us. The Stühocs.”

  Julian suddenly realized that he wasn’t talking to Spencer at all. In fact, he may have never been talking to Spencer. He was talking to a Stühoc, a possessor from far away, perhaps even as far as Mudavé. Spencer was the body, but the Stühoc owned his mind.

  He reached out, grabbing Spencer’s wrist forcefully. On the underside of his wrist was a small tattoo, an outline sketch of a flying dragon. He stepped back abruptly, shocked by the revelation. He had just killed most of the Dunarian Council.

  “You played into our hands,” Spencer said. “From the beginning, we wanted nothing more than this from you.”

  Julian had thought when he killed Holden and jailed Spencer that he was finished being used. He thought that the Stühocs were on their way to being defeated. He had been wrong.

  “We didn’t know your dead brother would have written you in the will,” Spencer continued. “That was the only real setback in our plan. But even as king you still managed to find what we wanted you to find. That meeting.”

  “It never took place?” Julian asked, not taking his eyes off the ground.

  “Oh, it took place,” Spencer said. “Just not with who you saw in the memory.”

  “Who?” Julian asked.

  “Maroke and four of the Sleepers. Obviously, Marcus and Theron were busy elsewhere, and Mintuk was working tirelessly in Voelif.”

  “I want the rest of their names!”

  “Maroke wanted us all there,” Spencer said. You’ve never heard of two of them. In the memories, Quincy Todd was a man named Damon, and Myron Lloyd was Saul.”

  Julian thought back to the meeting he saw in the memory.

  “They are still Human,” Holden had said. “They can still think for themselves and they can still disregard what Hroth tells them with the voice. I fear they will kill Silas, making it more difficult for us to find him and turn him. All they need to do is get the medallion and kill Garland and the protection can be lifted. We’ll be able to send Maroke in.”

  “I’ll be ready to go in as soon as the barrier is lifted,” Darius Umar had said. Realization dawned on Julian. It hadn’t been Darius. It had been Maroke.

  Myron Lloyd had asked what was to be done about Julian, and Katherine Fallera had said that she and Holden were going to be working on it.

  “You were Katherine?” Julian asked.

  “That’s what Holden saw, yes.”

  “He truly believed that all four of them were possessed?” Julian asked.

  “Don’t be a fool. Of course not. Holden knew that the council was never against you or the other Humans. But the memories we placed there were real. You saw exactly what we wanted you to see. The seventh Sleeper, Damon, has the unique ability of disguise. He can transform himself and others around him so that they appear as someone else. He can use the image of any person alive in Marenon. We always held meetings this way. As you can see, it worked.”

  Julian’s confusion had turned to grief. His grief to wrath. He gripped the sword handle tightly.

  “This was not unforeseen by us either,” Spencer said, glancing at the blade. “I knew I might have to die at your hands.”

  With clenched teeth, Julian managed to mutter, “Consider your plan fulfilled!”

  He was out of the room before Spencer’s severed head could hit the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Saul traced the outline of the dragon imprinted on his wrist. The symbol meant everything to him. It meant that he was a part of something that would change the land forever. The Dunarians didn’t even know what kind of plot had been crafted against them. They had done well in the war against the Stühocs seventeen years before, but now the Stühocs were bringing everything they had. The plan started and ended with the seven Sleepers and he was proud to be one of them. He knew he was a possessed Human, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, it gave him great satisfaction. Most people didn’t understand what true possession was. Most thought that if one was possessed, that there was no more control over the actions or the body. This wasn’t true. Saul could make any decision he wanted. His possession allowed him to believe in a true cause, but most of all it opened his mind to the voice. Whatever was left of the old Saul before his possession was gone. He didn’t even remember most of his former self. He knew his spirit was still alive, but it wanted nothing more than to please the Stühoc Possessor. He was now Human and Stühoc. The voice inside his head gave him direction, told him what his next move should be. He didn’t remember where the voice came from, but he listened to it without question. It almost felt like a sixth sense, but more tangible, like someone else was in his mind at all times. Like he was possessed. Saul smiled.

  After he had followed Silas and his group to the Gatekeeper’s old house on Blue Gate Mountain, he knew his mission would be better spent simply following the boy rather than just trying to kill him. Seeing him there confirmed that Silas’ quest for the Gatekeeper had begun. He knew Silas would find the Gatekeeper eventually and that he would lead Saul to him as well. Now, instead of tracking them down separately, he knew he could take out both Silas and the Gatekeeper at once.

  But he might need help.

  Though the Gatekeeper was weakening, that did not mean that his strength was completely diminished. The man was still powerful and Saul would have trouble defeating him by himself. The dragon that Saul rode wouldn’t be much help either. Maroke’s dragon hadn’t helped him in Mudavé.

  He looked back at the creature that sat idly behind him, just on the other side of the hill. The dumb thing had nearly gotten him caught when flying over the Gated Passage, but he had been able to dive out of the Erellen’s sights quick enough. The dragon wasn’t known for its stealth.

  He looked down at the wristband that had been given to him a long time ago. He hated the thing. Though he was one of the seven Sleepers, he still had to report to someone. As he sat on the hill overlooking the valley below him, his thoughts focused on the person he wanted to contact. He didn’t want the face to appear in front of him, so he kept his concentration at a minimum. Voice only.

  “What is it?” The voice asked harshly.

  “I’ve got the boy in my sight,” Saul said. “He’s with the girl, and they’re walking to a shack at the end of the valley. I think it’s the Gatekeeper’s.”

  “Good,” the voi
ce said. “Don’t make a move. We’ll bring a dragon.”

  “I don’t need you to come,” Saul said.

  “Going it alone didn’t work for you too well earlier did it? When you tried to kill Silas in the forest?”

  Saul reached up and placed a hand on his aching left arm. Silas’ magical arrow had gone clean through. Saul had been surprised when he had reached to pull the arrow out and it suddenly disappeared from his arm. Nothing remained but the wound, bloody and torn. It had been days and Saul had tried to keep the wound from infection, but he felt it needed more attention.

  “How long until you can get here?” Saul asked.

  “We’ll be there before morning,” the voice said.

  “What if they try to leave?”

  “Keep following them and let us know. Otherwise, wait where you are.”

  Saul took a moment to explain the valley’s location and advised him to fly in low and silent. The shack sat far away, but there was little sound in the valley, and any sort of commotion would be heard loud and clear.

  Saul covered his wristband with his sleeve and sat back patiently. He hated Marcus. He hated Theron. He looked at the two of them as failures for their disastrous attempt to get the Medallion on Earth. They had been gone from Marenon for seventeen years, and when they had finally gotten the chance to catch Silas and steal the medallion, they had blown it. He didn’t need their help, but he would wait patiently. This is what the voice inside of him was telling him. Be patient. Wait for Marcus and Theron.

  He shook his head. Sometimes the voice inside him went against what he thought he should be doing, but he would listen to it. He had to listen to it. The voice had told him to take off his mask in Hanzad and help Silas and the others find the way to the Dwelling Tree. It had been a big risk, but they had found the information that they needed, and now he watched them as they made their way to the shack. The risk had paid off. Now the voice was telling him to wait. Listening to the voice always paid off.

  *****

  Silas and Inga were both tired. They had traveled with little sleep, but the presence of Inga’s former master felt stronger than it ever had, so they continued without much rest. When they spotted the shack at the other end of the valley, they knew that he had to be there. There was no other place he could be. If it wasn’t Silandrin then they would be back at the beginning of their search, with no direction.