*****
Alric couldn’t believe he had let himself get caught. Now Nalani and Coffman were in the same situation. He had heard the whistle and saw the sarians fly in. Why didn’t they leave me and save themselves?
The three of them had been taken to the tower where Alric and Nalani had tried to steal the medallion a few days before. There they stood before the Stühoc king who had the power to destroy them in a second, but for some reason chose not to. His gray face was wrinkled into a disgusting, evil scowl.
“Sarians. An attempt to steal a medallion. Impeccable fighting. I smell the Dunarian’s work all over you,” Anithistor said. He held out the orange-jeweled medallion, taunting them with their failure. “Did you really think you could steal it from me?”
None of the three said a word.
“No matter,” Anithistor said. “I never needed the medallions to make the Sphere work anyway. We’ve grown far too powerful to be stopped.”
“So why don’t you just kill us already?” Alric asked. “I hate the small talk.”
“Because I need to use you as insurance,” Anithistor said. He reached his hand out and motioned for Mintuk. Mintuk walked around them and placed their wristbands into Anithistor’s hands. He set two of them on the table and grabbed Alric’s wrist, clasping it to his arm.
“My Sleepers have killed the Gatekeeper,” Anithistor said. “And I’ve decided to let the Meshulan live. He will be here before morning. I say this to tell you that the Dunarian’s destruction is nearly complete.”
“Why are you telling me?” Alric said, jerking his arm away from the foul creature.
“There are still others. Kaden, for instance. He knows you. He trusts you. You are going to kill him for me.”
Alric laughed. “Yeah, sure thing boss, I’ll get right on that.”
“You will kill him, or your friends here will suffer.”
“We’d rather die,” Nalani said. Coffman let out a grunt of agreement.
“And so you shall, should your dear Alric not do as I ask. Death is not what you need to worry about, though,” he said turning to Nalani. “If you do not bring Kaden’s head back to me in Mudavé within a week, your friends will feel the most gruesome torture imaginable. Sure, they will die, but they will suffer for a long, long time. And it will all be on you,” he said turning his head to Alric. “Kill Kaden, and you will be free.”
“Like you’re going to free us,” Alric said. “You’ll just kill us too.”
“You are no threat to me,” Anithistor said. “I care nothing for your life or death. Only the Dunarian’s leader matters. Bring me his head and you and your friends will leave, unharmed.”
Alric had never been put in such a position before. He had never cared for others so deeply that this kind of threat would work on him. But here he was, standing in front of the most desirable woman he had ever met, and the best friend he had ever known, forced to choose between their lives and the life of Kaden Osric.
He looked at Coffman, then Nalani, and cursed under his breath.
“Get him out of here,” Anithistor commanded.
The guards grabbed Alric by the arms, forcing him toward the doorway.
“Don’t do it, Alric!” Nalani yelled.
“Save yourself!” Coffman yelled.
“I’m not letting either of you die!” Alric said as he was shoved through the doorway. Then it slammed shut. He wasn’t sure if he would ever see either of them again.
The guards led him to the two sarians. He mounted one of them, and just like that, he was free, although he had never felt more like a prisoner.
The Gatekeeper had been killed? Silas was the Stühocs’ prisoner? He couldn’t believe how quickly things had fallen apart.
Alric knew what he had to do. He was a man of few loyalties, but he was loyal to his friends. The course of the war could be changed, the course of history for Marenon could be changed, but Alric’s mind would not be changed.
He was going to kill Kaden Osric.
Book Three:
The Reckoning
Chapter One
“Who killed you?” Damon asked. “Was it Kaden or the boy?”
“Kaden,” Marcus answered. “He took us by surprise.”
“I don’t want your excuses,” Damon shouted. “You had seventeen years to find him and bring him back to Marenon, but you’ve produced nothing.”
Marcus looked back at Theron with disgust and then turned back to Damon. “What gives you the authority to talk to us like this? We’ve been chasing after Silas and Garland since before you were a Sleeper.”
The words were true, but Damon was not going to argue with them. All of them heard from the same voice. All of them knew what they were supposed to do. “Your work in this matter is done for the time being,” Damon said. “Both of you are to report to Anithistor.”
“What about you?” Theron asked.
“I’m to wait here for Silas,” Damon answered. “If Maroke fails to take him through the Blue Gate, then Silas might die and come this way. If that happens, I will follow him.”
“We can stay and help,” Marcus said. “We could kill him before he steps foot into Marenon.”
Damon stared at the men for a moment. The two of them looked ridiculous in sackcloth. People like them didn’t deserve a second chance. Like all the others who walked through the Hall, these two had been originally chosen for Marenon. But unlike most of the others, this had been their second time to die on Earth. It was rare for someone to be given the chance to go back to Earth once he or she had arrived in Marenon. But, when that person was allowed back to Earth, he or she could always die there again and come back to Marenon through here: The Hall of Wandering Souls.
When Judoc had contacted Maroke about the passing of Garland Ainsley, Damon was dispatched to the Hall immediately. His mission was simple: wait for the boy. Wait for Silas Ainsley.
Should Silas show up, which was unlikely with Maroke after him, Damon’s first task would not be to kill him nor to capture him, but to make sure he was what they expected. The gauntlet would help provide such proof. If Silas survived it, he would be a threat. If he didn’t, then that was the end of it. They wouldn’t have to worry about the prophecy or the Deliverer.
Fully expecting Maroke to capture Silas on Earth, Damon refused Marcus’ offer to help. He took them through his cold room that opened to a tunnel. The tunnel wound through the center of the mountain and ended near the eastern fork of the Zasca River. This secret passageway provided the best approach in and out of the Hall of Wandering Souls.
Theron walked through the door to the tunnel, but Marcus hesitated, looking at Damon in the eyes.
“I hope Anithistor was being wise when he sent you to watch the Hall,” he said.
Damon remained silent.
“You should consider changing your appearance since you might be going into Canor,” Marcus continued.
Without blinking, Damon changed his appearance into the exact likeness of Marcus. It was as though the man was looking in the mirror.
“Stop it!” Marcus said.
With a smile, Damon changed himself back.
“I know when to disguise myself,” Damon assured him. “Anithistor is very wise. Do not question his judgment. Hroth wouldn’t like it.”
Marcus shook his head and walked into the tunnel. Damon closed the door behind him.
The two had been gone for seventeen years and already they were walking around like they were the leaders. They weren’t, however. The Sleepers didn’t answer to anyone but Hroth and Anithistor, though Marcus and Theron felt like they led the group of seven.
Each of them held an important position. Holden kept himself hidden away among the Dunarians in Jekyll Rock. Spencer kept close to the throne in Farlaweer. Mintuk remained an influential voice for the Nestorians. Marcus, Theron and Saul were the ones who traveled anywhere they were needed. And then there was Damon. His ability to change form was a craft he had developed rigorously for the past fif
teen years. He could mimic the likeness of anyone still alive in Marenon. All he needed was a memory of what they looked like. Not only could he do this for himself, but with deep concentration, he could also change the appearance of a group of people. The Stühocs had utilized this ability many times since Damon had become part of them. Anithistor had even told him that it would prove to be an invaluable talent in the future.
For several long hours he sat in the dark chamber, cold and tired. He could faintly hear the sound of Judoc repeating the names of the dead and instructing them to walk through the ring of fire into the land of Marenon. Damon barely remembered how he came to be in Marenon. To him it didn’t matter anymore. Back then he didn’t carry any sort of power. Back then he couldn’t hear the voice.
Damon was startled when the door opened and Judoc closed it behind him. He wondered if he had the ability to take on the appearance of such a creature. Judoc was not fully animal, but not fully Human. He was some kind of talking dog that stood upright and wore spectacles. Damon couldn’t help but notice the look of concern on his face.
“What is it?” he asked.
“He is here,” Judoc said. “Silas Ainsley has come!”
Damon stood. He hadn’t been ready for the news. “He’s in there right now?”
Judoc nodded.
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Yes,” the dog-man answered. “He is scared, but seems confident enough.”
Damon nodded. This was it. Marcus and Theron had failed and so had Maroke. They had been unable to capture the boy on Earth.
“Go back out there,” Damon said. “Allow him to pass like any other.”
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t question me, Judoc. Do as I say. I will take the tunnel and make my way into Canor. If Silas survives, he will be ours by the end of the day.”
“Yes sir,” Judoc said as he slipped out the door and back to his seat in the Hall.
Damon moved to the door and opened it slightly. Through the crack he could see the boy. But he was hardly a boy at all. He was a man. Seeds of doubt started to spring to life in Damon’s mind. What if he was unable to take Silas? This young man was special. What if Silas couldn’t be turned?
You were turned, the voice sounded in his mind.
Yes, but that’s different, Damon thought. I was not the Meshulan, the Deliverer.
If you can be turned, so can the boy.
Damon knew his own feelings betrayed him. Hroth, the Possessor, knew every thought that went through his mind.
You don’t want him to be turned?
Of course I want him to be turned, Damon lied.
Seeing him brings about feelings you weren’t expecting?
I’ve never seen his face before.
Your feelings come from a time and place to which you no longer belong, the voice told him. It is time to end this. It is time to prove that you can see him and feel nothing.
Damon knew it had to be done. He had been surprised when he had heard about Garland Ainsley passing through the Hall of Wandering Souls, but he had not felt anything. Seeing Silas brought only confusion to his mind.
He watched Silas walk toward the circle of fire. The boy reached his hand through the gateway and finally walked through it. Silas was in Marenon.
Something happened then that none of them expected. When Silas passed through the gate, the fire extinguished and the glass turned back into a stone wall. The passage for the dead no longer existed.
This is all the proof we need, the voice told him.
Damon swung the door wide and walked into the hallway.
All eyes fell on Damon as he made his way to Judoc.
“What would you have me do now?” Judoc asked as several of his man-dog minions gathered near his podium.
Damon stared at the confused people in line. There would be no more Humans going into Marenon today. The solution was simple.
“Kill them.”
Without waiting to see if his orders would be carried out, Damon turned and walked back to the room. He could hear the cries of people who had just died on Earth as they met another death. He walked to the other side of the room through the door that Marcus and Theron had used to get to the tunnel.
Damon was sure Judoc and his minions would be traveling the same path in a few minutes, but Damon wanted a head start. Something about them gave Damon an unpleasant feeling. They were the last of another race from Anithistor’s old world. He had made them his personal servants to do as he wished in exchange for life in a world that wasn’t dying. For the past seventeen years, it had been Judoc’s job to keep watch over the Hall of Wandering Souls. Per Anithistor’s instruction, they were to take it over and keep track of everyone that came through. Damon knew the Stühoc king was only waiting for Garland or Silas. The Hall had not always been a terrible experience for those who were passing into Marenon. Damon could faintly remember his first time seeing the place. A friendly apparition, probably from Silandrin, The Gatekeeper, had greeted all of them. The apparition had provided them with some sort of magical covering to shield them from the harsh cold of the mountaintop. They would then make their way into Canor where people would greet them and help them get acclimated to their new life. But Anithistor had found a way in. The apparition was destroyed, and the magic was gone. Spencer had convinced the new king to build a gauntlet. Slowly they had begun to weaken the Humans. Slowly, the Stühocs were gaining more and more power.
So much has changed, Damon thought as he walked down the pitch-black tunnel to the base of the mountain.
For the better, the voice said to him.
Yes, for the better.
It took a couple of hours to make it all the way down the inside of the mountain. From the base it took another half an hour to walk to Canor. As he neared the city gates it took only slight concentration to make himself appear as one of the merchants in the city. No use taking a chance on being noticed.
The gauntlet was busy as citizens of the city began placing bets on who would survive. From the high wall of the enormous structure, Damon spotted Silas as he was being chained to a red-bearded man. There were twenty people in all, chained together in pairs.
Damon felt someone tap him on the shoulder.
“Care to make a bet on who will survive?” The man asked.
At first, Damon almost snapped at him, but he held his tongue. The man worked on the gauntlet, collecting money, dishing out money, it didn’t matter. Workers like him kept the business alive. He kept the Stühoc’s cause alive. Damon couldn’t help but think that this man would be out of a job tomorrow. No more Humans.
“What’s the maximum bet?” Damon asked.
“Five thousand coins.”
Damon didn’t have money. He had no need to carry money.
“Put me down for five thousand on the young one,” he said.
The man raised an eyebrow at this, but shook his head quickly. “May I have your name?”
“William,” Damon said.
The man wrote down the information in his records, giving Damon a long look to memorize his face. Those who made bets at the gauntlet would often try to escape when they lost. Damon wasn’t worried. Even if Silas died, which Damon knew would not happen, all he had to do was change his appearance into someone else.
The new arrivals were released into the gauntlet. A dragon instantly incinerated the first couple to come through the door. Damon moved along the top of the gauntlet wall, watching Silas intently. The deafening sound of moans from the crowd did not distract him. Silas was quick. Once they were past the dragon, the players came to the spikes. Those left from the dragon attack were now hidden under a ceiling that served only to make the crowd nervous. Most didn’t survive the spikes. Sure enough, only three couples came through the end of it. Damon was not surprised to see Silas among them.
The three groups came to a split in the road and they all took their own path. Silas and his partner took the middle. Damon watched as the two walked down a path, bl
ocked from view until the roof opened to reveal swordsmen surrounding the pair. Garland had obviously taught Silas how to fight.
What a great asset he would be, the voice said.
One by one, each of the fighters died by Silas’ hands. Hroth was right. Silas would be a great asset. Damon continued along the wall until he reached the end. The gauntlet had been finished fairly quickly and most of the disappointed crowd shuffled back to the city.
“William! William!” The sound came from behind Damon. “Your winnings! If I may say so, your prediction was perfect.”
I know, Damon thought. “Keep the winnings.”
Damon didn’t take notice of the man’s stunned look as he turned and walked down the stairs into the city. The prisoners would be set free soon, and Damon had to get to Silas.
Steady yourself, the voice said. You will not take the boy today.
Why not?
Do you really trust yourself to try?
Damon thought about it a moment. Hroth was the Possessor. He had turned Damon. Why would he be asking this?
Because you know yourself, the voice answered. I know your thoughts. You see the boy and you don’t want to bring him to us.
But I do!
Only partially.
The gate at the end of the gauntlet opened and Silas walked out with four other individuals. All of them were bloody and beaten. Damon stepped forward with the crowd of people hoping to get a look at the survivors. Guards motioned for the citizens to go about their business, but Damon ignored them. He walked closer and soon came within twenty feet of Silas.
Part of you wants to leave the Stühocs, the voice said.
I don’t know why, Damon answered.
Of course you know why. This is your first test. We will need you in the coming months. If it comes to it, you will be Silas’ final trap. You will be his downfall.
The Marenon Chronicles Collection Page 58