The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

He looked into Will’s eyes deeply, wishing he had more time to explore his mind further. What would Silas find? Would he find pure intentions? Did Will want Silas to defeat Anithistor? Silas had trusted his dreams without considering the fact that he could have been set up by the enemy.

  Silas nodded at Will for him to open the door, and his father complied. With a loud creak the door swung inward. Silas half expected to be blasted with some sort of powerful magic, but instead found a massive cavern, dark and foreboding.

  It was a grand cave as wide and tall as a stadium. Only a faint light poked through the top from the outside world. This was it. Silas had felt the gate pulling him to this point. But before he could destroy the gate, he had to find his adversary. Though Silas had the medallion, he was not the Red Gate’s keeper. That title belonged to Anithistor.

  Before stepping forward, Silas took another look back at Will. The man had his eyes closed, and looked almost like he was praying.

  “Father?”

  Will shook his head, but didn’t open his eyes. “I have a bad headache,” he said. “I’m just going to stand here in the shadows.”

  Silas found this curious, but didn’t pursue the matter. “It’s probably for the best that you leave. It will be too dangerous for you here.”

  Will shook his head again, leaving his eyes shut tight. “Let me stay here in the shadows.”

  Silas nodded, though the man couldn’t see it.

  Silas stepped forward, unable to see the cavern very clearly. Was this the location of the Red Gate? It felt right.

  After walking another twenty feet or so, a burst of light brightened the entire cavern. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the glare, before they adjusted to its brilliance.

  On the other side of the room he could see a flat stone wall that looked identical to both the Blue and Green Gates. But the gate itself wasn’t what held Silas’ attention. Standing tall in front of the Red Gate was Anithistor.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The tall Stühoc glowered at him from the short distance. Black markings ran up and down his gray-skinned neck, and even down to his fingertips. His solid black eyes added to his unsettling deathly features. To Silas, he looked like a living corpse.

  Silas gripped the staff in his right hand, noting that it hadn’t changed forms. Anithistor had no intention of killing him yet.

  “Silas Ainsley,” the Stühoc king said. “You don’t know how foolish I felt, letting you get away from us so easily.”

  “You should hire better guards.”

  Anithistor didn’t smile. “Do you realize what kind of power we can have together if you would join with me?”

  “I do. That’s why I’m here to kill you.”

  “You know that by killing me and destroying the medallions, you will destroy yourself?”

  “A fact that has been driven into my brain,” Silas answered. “I’m not afraid to die again.”

  “But you don’t know what is ahead of you.”

  “Is that why you jump from world to world?” Silas asked him. “You’re so afraid of the end that you want to create a new beginning? Is that it?”

  “Perhaps. I’ve never really thought about why I love to move from world to world, destroying all life.”

  Silas shook his head. “This is your first one isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  Silas smirked. “You’ve never done this before. Your world was all but destroyed, and you had to do something. You accidentally came here. There are no other worlds. You figured out how to make a gate, and you came to Marenon. I know this because if you had conquered other worlds before, you would have taken over this small realm a thousand years ago.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that you’re terrified. You have never seen such opposition. Only once have you ever come this close to losing everything. The last time that happened you left. You were too afraid to try and rebuild your world. So you came here. You drove fear into the innocent. You war with them so you can become the supreme ruler again.”

  Silas took a short step forward.

  “I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you.”

  “And if I were you, I would think about opening that gate and going back to where I came from. I’m giving you that chance.”

  Anithistor’s eyes narrowed.

  “That’s right,” Silas continued. “I’m giving you one last chance. I will spare you if you go back home. If not, I will kill you today. Then I’ll destroy the gate.”

  He took another step forward.

  “I said, I wouldn’t come closer if I were you,” Anithistor warned him.

  “Why not? Afraid?” Silas asked.

  With a thought, Anithistor brightened the cavern, displaying three platforms set a hundred feet above the Red Gate. Lorcan, Kaden, and Inga stood trembling with ropes taught around their necks.

  “I have but to think it, and your friends’ dead bodies will dangle above us.”

  Silas wanted to vomit. How did he capture them?

  “Surprised, I see,” Anithistor said, his grin yellow and foul. “

  Silas didn’t know what to do. How could he fight Anithistor and expect his friends to live?

  “What do you want me to do?” Silas asked.

  “Give me the medallions.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No. After you give me the medallions, I’ll open the Red Gate for you, and you’ll walk through it. Once you are in the world I left behind, I’ll close it.”

  “And you expect me to believe you’ll just let them go?”

  “I guess you will just have to trust me.”

  Silas didn’t even blink before he used his magic to throw the Stühoc with the force of an explosion. Anithistor crashed into the Red Gate. Silas knew he had to keep Anithistor’s mind away from his friends on the platform or they would die in a second.

  He sent sparks from his fingertips, electrocuting Anithistor with the strength of ten storms. The king responded with a green shield that sprayed the sparks in every direction, shattering rocks to pebbles and dust wherever the bolts landed.

  Anithistor cared nothing for Silas’ friends because he came at Silas with everything he had. The staff of Uriah instantly turned into a large shield to deflect Anithistor’s magic, but the electric blast sent it sailing to the floor. Silas concentrated hard to create his own shield of green energy and subsequently shot a blast toward Anithistor, knocking him backward again. Silas conjured blazing, green fireballs in his palms and readied himself to throw them at his enemy. But the Stühoc lifted his arms, calling for the rock ceiling to cave in.

  Hundreds, maybe thousands of rocks came tumbling down from the high ceiling. Silas knelt to the ground and lowered his head, anticipating the rocks to crush him; instead, he willed them to stop in mid-air.

  The green flames burned bright in his hand as large rocks floated around him. He lifted his head, and with a mighty push, he hurled the rocks and flames in Anithistor’s direction.

  The searing rocks crashed into the Stühoc king, burying him under a glowing mountain.

  Silas stood from his kneeling position, squinting from the sunlight that was streaming from the gaping hole in the ceiling. Was Anithistor dead? Silas’ magic seemed to be almost spent. His body felt weaker than ever and he found himself staggering as he moved.

  He looked up at his friends on the platform. “Are you alright?” he asked. All he got back in return were shaking limbs and nervous stares. Why weren’t they responding to him? He looked back at Will who quietly sat with his eyes closed in the corner of the large cave.

  “Father,” Silas called out. Silas looked straight ahead at the blank wall that was the Red Gate. He took a step forward, feeling his limbs starting to give out. He walked past the pile of smoking rock and stood in front of the Red Gate. He could see the small slot at the bottom for the red medallion.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. All of these troubles had arisen because of this s
imple piece of jewelry. He looked back at the pile of rocks. If Anithistor was dead, then the gate would be destroyed with the words that had become so familiar to Silas. He knew all he had to do was think of each individual medallion and say the words that etched through his mind so seamlessly.

  He looked up at his friends, knowing that he had to set them free before destroying the gate. He closed his eyes and searched them for their bonds, trying to untie the knots from his position of the ground. But the rumbling ground wrecked his concentration.

  When he opened his eyes, the entire cavern was shaking. The rocks that had covered Anithistor were now hovering feet above the ground instead the Stühoc pulled himself up, then they crashed to the floor. He turned to face a battered and fatigued Silas. Blood streaked down the sides of Anithistor’s face and bruises were already forming. The attack would have killed a normal man.

  In that moment, Silas knew he wasn’t going to be able to kill Anithistor by conventional magical powers. The Stühoc had to have some weakness; there had to be an attack he could not withstand.

  Anithistor easily knew Silas’ weakness.

  “Give me the medallion,” he said. He reached a hand toward the platforms that held Lorcan, Kaden, and Inga. “Give me the medallion or they die.”

  Silas let out a defeated breath and tossed the red medallion to Anithistor.

  “You have the others,” Anithistor said.

  “Only one.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the white medallion and tossed it to him.

  Despite his obvious pain, Anithistor smiled at his newfound victory as he caught the second medallion. “Where are the others?”

  Silas closed his eyes, searching for the medallion’s location. Still lying on the top of the Pyramid. Silas shook his head, knowing Alric had to be dead or the medallions would be in the pedestal by now. Silas would have to destroy them without taking out the Sphere. He hated the thought.

  “Not with me,” Silas answered.

  “The Sphere,” Anithistor said. He smiled again. “That’s alright. You have no more power.”

  “Let my friends go,” Silas demanded.

  “Sure.” In the short instant, Anithistor flicked his wrist and the platforms dropped beneath the feet of Lorcan, Kaden, and Inga.

  “No!” Silas dropped to his knees, calling on the rest of his power to hold them in mid-air before the ropes could snap their necks.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Anithistor sent a flash of electricity into Silas’ chest, throwing him into the wall. The blinding, hot light burned into his concentration. Smoke filled the air, and Silas was completely spent.

  He was able to glance up at his friends one last time. Their necks were broken, and they dangled lifelessly in the air.

  No! Silas thought. His eyes burned with tears at seeing them so easily killed. It was completely finished. They were through. The Dunarian mission was a failure. Anithistor stepped forward to finish the job.

  Silas’ father was still in the corner, muttering to himself. In his last moments of life, he wondered why his father had come here. What was he doing now? Was he afraid? Why hadn’t he tried to help his son?

  “You have lost, Silas Ainsley,” Anithistor said.

  “I know.”

  “I hate to kill the Gatekeeper and Watchman.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “You’re right.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Julian stumbled up the spiraling stairs toward Hroth’s chamber. He couldn’t count the number of Leapers he had just taken down. The Possessor obviously knew Julian was coming after him and must have called every Leaper in Mudavé to take out his would-be assassin.

  A giant gash in Julian’s leg had bled freely until he had ripped a piece of his shirt to wrap around it. The wound had slowed him down. With each opponent he was forced to call on every bit of magic he knew and rely on all the fighting techniques that Robin had taught him when Julian was a young teenager. Never before had he fought so many Leapers.

  It would not have been so bad with Stühoc regulars. Though they could think and make decisions in a fight, they were weak and poorly trained. Leapers needed no training. Their brute strength and agility made them a dangerous foe. That, and their sharp claws that nearly matched a sword.

  Finally facing the wooden door at the top, he felt so close to his quarry, yet he knew there was more to be done. There would be no sneaking in. There was no secret key. Julian could no longer rely on stealth. He knew that Reckoning Soldiers were running out of time.

  As much as he could with his injured leg, he forced his shoulder into the door in hopes of breaking it down. He groaned in agony. The door was solid, and the first collision felt like it might have dislocated his shoulder. He tried it one more time, but it nearly made him pass out from the pain. The door wouldn’t budge this way.

  The sound of screeching made him freeze. He had just faced so many Leapers and now more were coming. Hroth was surely intending to kill Julian.

  But he wasn’t going to give up easily. He was glad to at least have the door to his back, knowing he would not be attacked from behind, but he didn’t have a lot of faith in his strength. His body had reached its limits and his limbs were ready to give out. When the first Leaper came into view, Julian readied himself with his sword, taking a defensive position. It jumped at him with lightening-quick speed, but Julian maneuvered his sword to meet it in the throat. That had been his easiest kill of the bunch.

  But three more followed quickly behind. He hated their gray lizard skin and sharp teeth. He loathed their demonic claws that went for the killing strike every time.

  He blocked and parried. A set of claws swiped his other leg, grazing his skin with small tears that showed he had just escaped a much more severe injury. In such an enclosed space, Julian actually held the advantage. He smashed one of them with the hilt of his sword and sent a fiery ball into the mouth of another, killing it instantly. Another clawed hand swung for his head, but Julian caught its wrist with his sword and it howled in pain as its hand fell to the ground. Using the distraction to his advantage, Julian shoved his sword into its chest, quickly ripped it out and cut the neck of the last Leaper.

  For a moment, all was still again, but he knew it wouldn’t last. The brief silence was interrupted by another distant screech indicating that more were on the way. Julian was finished. His body couldn’t take any more fights with the Leapers. If he didn’t find a way through the door now, he would be cut to pieces.

  He slammed a fist into the door, frustrated that he couldn’t get past it. That’s when he remembered how the Leapers had gotten through when they had brought him to Hroth earlier.

  He looked at the stairs below him and found the hand he had severed from the Leaper. He grabbed it and used his sword to cut the finger off near the palm. The long nail acted as a key, but he knew he would have to be precise in turning the finger so it would unlatch the lock.

  He didn’t know if the slot had been formed to fit a specific Leaper or all of them, but he knew he had to try. The loud grunting and screaming from the stairs below told him he had about fifteen seconds to figure it out.

  He twisted the finger in every direction. He shoved, he pulled, but no adjustment would cause the lock to unlatch.

  Maybe ten seconds.

  He took a deep breath and slowed his movements, knowing that rushing would produce no results.

  They’re almost here!

  Sweat dripped past his eyes, making him blink. He did a short twist to the left, then a sharp movement to the right and pushed.

  Click.

  He swung the door open, relieved that it had worked. The first set of Leapers appeared, ready to take his head off, but Julian shoved his way through the door and turned to slam it shut. The door smashed three sets of arms as he pushed against the door with his shoulder. Having left his sword on the stairwell, he reached into his cloak and pulled out his dagger, swiping at the hands trying to push through into the room.
He cut at the long, clawed fingers as the gray blood painted the side of the wall and wooden door. Finally, he was able to slam the door shut and he quickly locked the bolt in place. He shoved his knife into the keyhole, calling on every bit of strength he had to send electric currents through the end, melting the lock so they couldn’t come through. Though it melted his dagger with the rest of the lock, no more Leapers would be getting in anytime soon.

  He turned sharply to see Hroth facing him, standing next to his Leaper guard. Julian suddenly felt exposed in his weaponless state, save for the one Leaper finger in his right hand. He hadn’t been afraid of facing Hroth; he didn’t think the Possessor had any magical fighting abilities.

  Did you think I would stay in here without protection?

  Julian ignored him. He wasn’t going to dignify the Stühoc by communicating with him in thought.

  As best as he could, Julian held a defensive position as the Leaper stepped slowly toward him. Julian could feel no more magic within him. There was nothing else to call on. He could barely move as the Leaper grabbed his right shoulder with one hand and with the other it shoved its claws through the same shoulder and into the wood of the door, pinning Julian like a ragdoll, his feet dangling above the ground.

  Julian didn’t even have the strength to scream as pain like he had never felt before shot through his body. The blood from his wounds pooled onto the ground beneath him. The Leaper stared deep into Julian, studying his eyes. Hroth was probably telling the creature to hold its composure so it wouldn’t kill him yet.

  Hroth stepped forward.

  What did you think you would accomplish by coming here? Did you think you could defeat me?

  “I just want you dead,” Julian answered weakly. “With you dead, your Sleepers will wake up.”

  What makes you think that?

  Julian rested his head against the door behind him. His body was ready to pass out in order to cope with the pain he felt.

  “Speak to me.” Julian said.

  I don’t speak.

  “Use your words. Your mouth. Speak to me.”