The Marenon Chronicles Collection

by Jason D. Morrow

  No.

  Julian began to breath harder. His hatred for Hroth began to grow into a hot rage of loathing. He didn’t care if it cost him his life. He wanted the coward to suffer as he had made Julian suffer. He tightly gripped the stiff finger he had used to unlock the door.

  “You used me,” Julian said. “You possessed men and nearly brought down all of Marenon.”

  Nearly?

  “Nearly,” he said, struggling to breath. “The Reckoning soldiers are advancing. You are losing the battle. Your Sleepers are almost all dead.”

  And the remaining two are doing their job well.

  “You are their voice, right? When you die, the voice inside their head is gone.”

  But I’m not dying today.

  Before the Leaper could react, Julian brought the clawed finger up and stabbed downward into the beast's right eye. The Leaper dropped Julian, and with a surge of adrenaline, Julian jumped forward and tackled the Leaper to the ground. With his good arm he pulled out the sharp claw from the Leaper’s eye and stabbed it again and again repeatedly. The Leaper tried to shove Julian off of it, but Julian was unrelenting. He didn’t stop until the Leaper’s nerves produced no more movement, and its labored breath ceased altogether.

  With the mix of gray and red blood all over his face and body, Julian looked up at Hroth who stood silently. Julian used every bit of strength he had left to stand. He hoped he would have enough to finish Hroth.

  “Speak to me,” Julian said.

  I am speaking to you.

  Julian stepped forward and reached for Hroth’s throat. He threw back the Stühoc’s hood, revealing his pasty, gray skin that almost looked white. His eyes were completely white, possibly indicating that he was blind. Scars ran up and down the side of his cheeks, and wrinkles shoved deep into a contorted, worried face. He was the ugliest Stühoc Julian had ever seen.

  “I said, speak to me!”

  A wheezing breath came from Hroth’s throat as Julian gripped harder. “What do you want me to say?” His voice was raspy and hoarse, as though he hadn’t used it in years.

  “Is Silas still alive?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Julian squeezed tighter.

  “Has your servant killed him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Where is he?”

  “The Red Gate.”

  Julian paused for a moment, thankful to know that Silas wasn’t dead yet. That meant there was some hope left.

  “You ruined me,” Julian told him. “You used me against my own allies. You used me to kill innocent people. Before you die, I want you to know that you haven’t won. All of this did nothing for you or the Stühocs. I want you to die knowing that you have lost the war, and that Silas has brought about his Reckoning.”

  Even with their blinded whites, Julian could see the fear in Hroth’s eyes. It was a fear of knowing what was about to happen. It was the fear of knowing that the end was at hand, and there was no escaping it.

  Julian gripped the Leaper claw one last time, and with a quick stab to the side of the head, ended Hroth’s wretched life.

  *****

  Alric watched Marcus as he dropped to the floor of the platform at the top of the Pyramid, holding his head as though some invisible object had hit it. The Sphere above them had been prepped to let out another blast, but Marcus had no ability to command it now for some reason.

  “It’s gone!” Marcus yelled out. “Where are you? Tell me what to do!”

  Alric looked to his left at Coffman. His eyes were closed, but the man was still breathing. He looked back at his right to Marcus. Alric knew if there was ever a moment to move, this was it. He reached a hand forward, beginning a slow crawl toward the pedestal.

  “Where are you going?” Coffman muttered.

  “Don’t you worry, buddy. I’ll be back.”

  He pushed himself forward. Somehow he found the strength to bring himself upright, hopping forward with the one leg that wasn’t bloody and shattered. He reached down and grabbed a sword off the ground and came within a foot of Marcus.

  The man looked up at Alric with tears in his eyes.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Planned on it,” Alric said.

  “I don’t – I don’t know what happened!”

  “What, the reason you fell over and started acting crazy?”

  “The voice is gone! I can’t hear him! I feel like, like I just woke up! I don’t know what’s happening!”

  “You just killed thousands of people, that’s what’s happened.”

  “But I, I just…”

  Alric slapped Marcus on the side of the head with the flat of the sword, sending him to the ground, unconscious.

  He staggered toward the pedestal as he pulled out the two medallions. The Sphere above his head had swelled to a size that Alric had never seen before. He loathed the weapon. It had done so much damage and threatened his own life on too many occasions already. He placed the orange medallion in its designated slot, then the purple one.

  “It’s up to you now, Silas,” Alric said as he stepped away from the pedestal. He grabbed Marcus by the shirt and used all of his strength to drag the unconscious body to the pedestal. With a heave, he lifted him and laid him across the top of it. If what Silas said was true, and he could destroy the medallions from far away, Marcus would die along with the powerful relics.

  He dragged himself next to Coffman and stuck his head over the side of the Pyramid, yelling for one of the sarians to pick them up. He then looked out over the horizon and could see that Reckoning troops had advanced and were fighting against the Stühocs. The Soldiers of the Dead were finished.

  Skarret was the first to come flying. With its large talons, it scooped up both Alric and Coffman and fluttered safely to the ground.

  So many injured lay around Alric. Looking down at his own leg, he was surprised that he was still conscious, but his breathing had become heavier and shallower. He wasn’t dying. At least, he didn’t think he was. He’d had worse injuries than this hadn’t he? Maybe not.

  He looked up and saw Nalani.

  Is she breathing?

  He got no answer to the question. He just rested his head on the dirt beneath him, hoping she would make it. Then, darkness.

  *****

  Julian had fallen on the ground with Hroth’s dead body next to him. He had to move. He couldn’t stay here. With all the smashing and clawing at the door, Julian knew it would give soon.

  With his left hand he slowly reached under his tunic and pulled out the sarian whistle. He had no idea how far Eden was from the Stühoc fortress. He could hear the battle raging closer than before. That was good news. That meant that the Reckoning troops were advancing. But he didn’t even know if Eden was still alive, much less within range to hear his call.

  He brought the whistle to his lips, took a deep breath and blew. The sound had a much lower tone than anything that size should have made. He never knew why this was so, but chalked it up to the wonderful magic of Marenon. No one would ever uncover the land’s mysteries completely. No one should ever try. Such an attempt would drive a person to insanity.

  He blew again, breathing one last resonating note before he let the whistle drop to his chest. If the sarian hadn’t heard it by that point then it would never come.

  Julian wasn’t sad by this. When he started this mission he hadn’t expected to make it this far. He had succeeded. He had finally completed a mission without messing everything up. A slight grin formed at the side of his mouth at this. He had done wrong by so many people. He was responsible for the death of innocents. His regret wouldn’t leave him as long as he lived. But he also knew that in the end, he came to be where he needed to be all along. He had finished what he needed to accomplish.

  The rest was up to Silas – just as it had been intended from the beginning.

  Julian closed his eyes. He wanted to let sleep take him. He desperately needed it, or at least his body thought he needed it. Be
fore he slipped into a soft dreamland that might have been his last, a faint sound jolted him to his senses.

  It wasn’t the thrashing and screeching of the Leapers from the other side of the door that seemed to never end. It was something much softer, much sweeter. He looked up to the window of the room and saw her.

  Eden.

  She flapped her wings and let out a squawk, beckoning Julian to join her. He had never felt his heart so light. Perhaps his life had not ended. Perhaps this wasn’t his last day as he had led himself to believe.

  Pain shot through his body as he pulled himself up. Eden edged closer to the side, allowing Julian to use as little strength as possible to climb onto her back. Once he was secure, he instructed her to go up.

  The sight below him revealed that the Stühocs were losing. The Reckoning soldiers had shaken the enemy’s confidence and surged ahead toward the city center, ready to take the entire fortress.

  Eden pushed herself upward where Julian could see in every direction. He looked over and across the Reemlock Mountains. Smoke billowed in the distance away from the city and a pit formed inside Julian’s stomach.

  Silas.

  He did not have a plan, but even if he could provide a distraction, he could possibly help Silas accomplish the rest of his mission. With a sharp kick that caused Julian to wince in pain, he urged Eden forward toward the Red Gate.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Damon sat in the corner of the destroyed cavern, not even noticing that the sun shined onto him through the billowing smoke that rushed out of the gaping hole in the top.

  It had taken all of his concentration to hold the magic that masked the three hanging victims at the top of the cavern. Hroth had been helping him focus and now he heard nothing. There was no more voice inside his head. He was no longer Damon the Sleeper, but someone else entirely. Memories of his former life rushed into his brain as though his possessed existence had been a terrible nightmare.

  Damon? Where had that name come from? He wasn’t Damon. He tried to remember, but it seemed impossible. He knew where he was, and he knew he had a purpose or mission, but what was it? The bodies? He didn’t want to open his eyes, though he knew he was now awake.

  But why had he been called Damon? He racked his brain for an answer until a vague memory passed by. Hroth. Hroth had given it to him. He remembered something about receiving a new name to erase who he once was.

  He remembered being captured in battle. He remembered the ashes, the smoke. He remembered Hroth, Maroke, and others. He remembered on the day he was captured, seventeen years ago, all of the enemies kept calling him the seventh Sleeper, whatever that had meant. Now he knew.

  He remembered being imprisoned for so long before he first heard the voice and accepted it. Two years of agony and loneliness made him wish for someone to talk to. Unwittingly, he had let Hroth in. He talked to him about everything. He didn’t care. He was glad to have someone to talk to. Before he ever knew what he had allowed Hroth to do, he had been possessed. For fifteen years he had been possessed and now all of a sudden his possessor was strangely absent from his mind. He couldn’t think of the last time he felt freedom.

  He recalled that he was posing as someone’s father. No. Not someone. Silas. Silas Ainsley. He was posing as Silas’ father. But that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t all. He was Silas’ father. William Ainsley.

  For so many years he had been forced to learn this power that would allow him to change the appearance of himself and others around him into people that were alive and well.

  For so many years he had been forced to wear a mask. He had forgotten who he truly was. He had forgotten to fight for the right team. He had been forced to forget these things. He had been possessed. How many people had suffered because of him?

  He opened his eyes.

  The first place his eyes went was to the underside of his wrist. The dragon marking was fading, and he watched as it disappeared completely.

  He looked up sharply. Anithistor stood over Silas, ready to kill him with a final word. Silas had all but given up, his strength completely obliterated.

  “Stop!” Will screamed from the other side of the cavern.

  Anithistor halted his movement, and turned slightly to Will.

  “You can’t kill him!”

  Anithistor squinted at him. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s not just some threat you can vanquish. He is the prophesied Deliverer; the Keeper of the Gates. He is your Reckoning!”

  “Damon, what is wrong with you?”

  “I’m not Damon. I never truly was Damon. You and your desperate servants put me to sleep with your evil possession, but no longer. Hroth is dead. And so are you.”

  *****

  Silas couldn’t believe what he was hearing and neither could Anithistor, judging by the look on his face. The Stühoc king had called his father Damon. The same Damon that was a Sleeper. But that meant…

  Silas was sick at the thought. His own father had been captured and possessed all those years before. This person was Damon and William Ainsley. Silas jerked his head upward to see his friends that had been hung. Only they weren’t there. In their place were three different Stühocs used by Anithistor and Damon to deceive Silas.

  That’s why he curled up in the corner, Silas thought. He used his power to trick me. But Damon had said that he was now awake, and he was now opposing Anithistor. Julian must have done it. Hroth was dead. The Possessor no longer controlled Will or Marcus.

  Silas closed his eyes, searching for the location of the purple and orange medallions. This time they weren’t in the pocket of Alric Thirsk. Instead, he saw them placed in their slots with Marcus lying on top of them.

  Damon stepped forward.

  “For fifteen years you had me murder and lie. You forced me to become someone I never was; someone I never wanted to be!”

  Anithistor lifted his palm to Will. “And you will die as weak as you were when Hroth brought you here in the beginning.”

  The burning heat of lightening bolts shot into Will’s chest and he was thrown back with an unrelenting force. Even then, Anithistor didn’t stop. Almost as if he had forgotten about Silas, he turned his full back to him and ripped into Will, ignoring the man’s painful cries.

  There on the ground, the ancient words that had created the medallions formed in Silas’ mind as they had when he destroyed the Blue and Green Gates. Tears fell from his eyes as he saw his father for who he was, writhing in pain because he wanted to save his son.

  His eyes closed and his mind went from the pained scene in front of him back to the medallions. First, the purple medallion of Farlaweer, and then the orange medallion of Voelif, both rested safely at the top of the Pyramid. Then the white medallion of Timugo appeared in his mind as it dangled from a chain in Anithistor’s grip. Words formed on Silas’ lips.

  “Osh tü lorminan, Kül vorheesh-sellan,” came out barely above a whisper. Anithistor was too busy sucking the life out of Will to notice that the jewel on the medallion had lit up.

  Silas pulled himself up to his knees.

  “Osh tü lorminan, Kül vorheesh-sellan,” he said again, this time much more loudly.

  The bolts of lightning ceased from Anithistor’s palm when he heard the words. He turned sharply and looked at Silas. Silas didn’t see him, his mind’s eye solely focused on the three medallions that had begun to burn with an intense heat.

  Anithistor lifted his hands to try and stop Silas from saying the words of creation and destruction. A ball of fire blazed in Anithistor’s hand as he readied to throw it at Silas, but he was too late.

  “Osh tü lorminan, Kül vorheesh-sellan!” Silas screamed.

  In the last instant, Silas opened his eyes to see the white medallion explode into a bright, white light, engulfing Anithistor in its destructive detonation. Silas was thrown backward and saw nothing but black, and heard nothing but silence.

  *****

  Inga’s eyes shot open at the sound of the blast. The
top of the Pyramid had exploded into a million pieces of rock and metal. The first thing she thought was that she had somehow died and that she was seeing the battle unfold from outside her body. The wafting smoke and debris above her seemed so surreal, but she knew that it meant only one thing.

  Silas had destroyed the medallions. The plan had been for him to destroy them and then destroy the Red Gate, but what if he couldn’t make it that far? What if it was a last attempt to help them before Anithistor killed him? She had to go to him.

  She tried to lift herself off the ground, but someone forced her to lie back down – a Reckoning soldier.

  She looked to her right. Dink and Daewyn sat, staring up at the explosion above them. To her left she saw Emma giving water to Lorcan who accepted it graciously. Kaden also looked up at the devastation above them, knowing that it could have meant the end for Silas. If they heard another crash or detonation in the distance, they would know that the Red Gate had been destroyed. Silas had predicted this would be his end. That he would die.

  She couldn’t imagine a life without him. A Marenon without Silas was meaningless.

  Beyond Kaden she saw Alric and Coffman who were being patched up by more soldiers who had come to their aid. Even Nalani was awake. Someone had removed the arrow that had nearly killed her. She even smiled with relief to see that the Sphere had been destroyed.

  Out in the city beyond her, she could see that all of those that had been hit by the Sphere’s bolts of light – all of those who had become Soldiers of the Dead – they were now lifeless. Hundreds, maybe thousands had dropped at once as their souls were released to the final resting place, never to be used by a corrupted force again.

  Inga let her head fall to the ground, glad to know that her friends were alive for now. Their injuries would heal in time. Some would take longer than others, and some may never fully recover. But they were alive and the Sphere was destroyed.

  But what about the Red Gate? What about Silas?

  *****

  Silas opened his eyes with a jolt, but his vision instantly blurred as he tried to focus. Somehow, he had not been knocked unconscious by the explosion. He squinted at the sky when he thought he saw a sarian flying down to him.