Eden Legacy
Page 41
Awry
As blood pooled against him, flowing from Alexander’s limp form, Thomas forced himself to stand. What had happened? He was in disbelief. He had to get to Lilya.
No! he thought as he saw her across the hall with his sword struck through her chest. She lay limp with her face against the bloody ruby floor. “Lilya!” he called out to her. “Lilya!” As the dragon had crashed through the dome he had turned to flee and had struck something with his sword. He prayed it hadn’t been her.
He ran through the dragon’s blood, spraying it with his footsteps, until he came to her and kneeled beside her form. With a hand to her neck he checked for some sign of life. There was no pulse, and though her body was still warm a chill ran over him. She came here to save me. And now look what I have done. A fire burned within him, hatred for all that fate had brought into his world.
He kissed Lilya’s eyes as Alexander’s blood traced down her face. Thomas closed his eyes and braced her body, pulling his sword from her chest as he held her against him. He set her limp body back into the pooling blood and walked through the hall, sheathing his sword. “Something must be done.” He stared at the doors leading beyond the hall.
Then out of the corner of his eye he saw a small ruby apple rolling in the current of blood that filled the hall’s floor. He walked to it as the warm blood seeped into his shoes and he reached into the blood and withdrew the trinket from its flow. A beam of light from the destroyed roof shimmered through it.
The fruit, his thoughts carried him somewhere else. If the figs are not the fruit that give eternal life then it’s possible that the fruit is still in the unknown woods. If I ate of it then I could live long enough to see my kingdom restored. He stuffed the ruby apple in his pocket and walked numbly to the hall’s open doors. Each step weighed on his soul. This fruit is the one chance to heal my realm, he thought as he placed his hand on the course grain of one of the hall’s doors, lingering for a moment before heading into the harsh sunlight and toward the Pishon River.
If he had looked back as he left Castle Ah’s main hall then he would have seen Alexander’s limp form evaporate into a fine red mist and rise in a gust through Ah’s open roof. But Thomas did not look back. He did not know what happened in his hall.
There was a blindness coursing through Thomas as he walked to the docks. The gravel path churned beneath his feet and he veered away from it into tall grasses, knowing he could reach the docks quicker through there.
Then he heard a rustling in the grass nearby. “Thomassss,” Dora’s voice beckoned him.
He turned to where he had heard her voice, drew his sword and parted the grasses with it. “I should take your life. You deceived me.” He moved his blade against the ragged woman’s throat and forced her down against the earth, digging the tip of his blade slightly into her wrinkled flesh. Blood trickled down her throat.
“Spare me, sire,” she pled. “I did not know the figs were not the fruit of life. Let me live to serve you, to help you discover the true fruit.”
“I should kill you,” he said as he kept the tip of his sword in her throat. Anger flowed through him and his arm quivered with hate. He swallowed and withdrew his sword quickly, stepping away. “But there has been enough bloodshed in my land. No more blood will be shed at my hands. Leave, witch, and do not return. Flee to Vane or some other land. I do not care where you go but know that you will have no shelter in Havilah.” He turned and made his way toward the docks, shaking as he went and wanting to take her life.
Dora morphed into a long black snake behind him and slithered off through the grasses and into the earth.
As he approached the docks Thomas spotted a small four-man boat rocking along the bank. Its oars were inside. It would be the best thing he could find for his journey to the unknown land. He approached it, stepping inside and beginning to untie the rope that held it to the river bank, when a large man approached from behind. He could hear the man’s footfalls as his feet sank into the moist ground.
“Sire,” a deep voice spoke to him as he turned and looked up.
“Who are you?” Thomas asked and moved his hand to his sword’s hilt. The man was large and bare chested with a glowing circle in the middle of his forehead. The young king relaxed. This was clearly one of the mercenaries he had hired from Vane.
“Wherever you go, do you need a rower?” the man asked. “I am Carn, of Vane.”
Thomas felt the weight of the oar in his hands as he lifted it. He was weak and would have trouble reaching the unknown woods on his own. He needed this man. Perhaps one of the mercenaries would still prove useful. “Please.” He motioned before him and Carn stepped in at the front of the boat. It rocked greatly with his weight.
Soon they pushed out on the river and were carried swiftly by its currents toward their destination. Thomas struggled with his oar to keep the boat steady. He struggled with his emotions too, uncertain of what would happen when he reached the unknown riverbank.
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