Exiles From The Sacred Land (Book 2)

by Mark Tyson

  Vesperin nodded and stepped through, followed by Fayne and then Trendan.

  “All right, Melias, Kimala, let’s go see the king of Symboria.” He closed the portal and then reopened it. “Hmm, that’s unexpected.”

  “Morgoran, what is it?” Melias inquired.

  “Just for curiosity’s sake, I tried the portal for Paladine and it opened.” He scratched his head. “There is a portal again for Symbor.”

  “Ha, you are not as good with enchanting as you remember!” Gondrial ridiculed Lady Shey as she tried to steady The Shooting Star, the stolen ship they had magically flown out of Seabrey.

  “I might not be able to enchant it to float in the air, but I can make it stand on its keel indefinitely! That is plenty good enough,” Lady Shey retorted.

  “You two stop bickering,” Ianthill said as he and Enowene prepared a few provisions nearby for the trek into the ruined city of Ishva. “I am tired of your voices!”

  Sanmir descended from the ship on a rope ladder attached to the deck high above and joined the others. Gondrial sent the ladder back up to the ship with a flick of his forefinger. He stepped back and took in the view of the ship. “It is a bit strange seeing a full-sized ship standing on its keel in a field of yellow prairie grass in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Aye,” Ianthill agreed, “but Ishrak is an empire in ruins, so there is no one to see it but us.”

  “I am thankful for that. I have explained my way out of many situations, but a full-sailing ship alone on a field leagues away from any water source might be difficult.”

  “I am sure you could talk your way clear of that too,” Lady Shey commented. “I once saw you convince a man that you turned his wife into a horse so you could run off with his actual wife. Whatever happened to her anyway?”

  “Oh, nothing really. The owner of the horse didn’t take too kindly of the man trying to take his horse home. He didn’t believe it was his wife, and a fight ensued. The man was killed over the altercation, and the woman inherited all his land and possessions. For some reason, she lost interest in me.”

  Sanmir was horrified. “That’s terrible. That poor man.”

  “I didn’t say I was proud of doing it. How was I to know what would happen to him?”

  “That’s quite enough,” Ianthill said. “Let’s be on our way. Ishva isn’t far. Where is Kyrie?”

  “Of all things, he is deathly afraid that he will be cursed if he comes down off the ship,” Gondrial said. “He isn’t afraid of falling to his death trying to descend the rope ladder, or a plunging to his death riding a flying ship held up by mere essence, but he is scared senseless of being cursed. He will be all right to stay aboard.”

  Ianthill and party reached Ishva without incident. The ruined city appeared abandoned, but Ianthill knew where the afflicted lived. He had visited the city before, trying to lend aid to the poor souls. He found the building that used to house the afflicted empty. Upon searching the grounds, Ianthill finally came across a pleasant-looking man of about middle age with a receding hairline. He was sitting peacefully under a shade umbrella, looking off to the plains.

  “Hail,” Ianthill greeted the man.

  “Hail, friend,” the man replied.

  “Forgive me, sir, but where are the afflicted that used to take up residence here?”

  “All cured,” said the man. “That’s why that plain yonder is calm.”

  “Cured how?” Ianthill asked.

  “Theosus brought a young man to us that knew how to cure our affliction. He stayed up a full night to get everyone cured up.”

  “Where is this young man now?”

  “Gone. He went with Theosus and the rest to the capital. I stayed behind because of my bad back and knees. They should be back in a week or two.”

  “They went to the capital of Ishrak? Are you referring to By’temog?”

  “Aye, they went to the capital. They went after something important—a book or something to help us learn how to help use the wild magic so that we are never afflicted again.”

  “Thank you, sir, you have been most helpful.”

  “Certainly,” the man said.

  Ianthill took the others aside. “I think he is talking about the Tome of Enlightenment.”

  Gondrial laughed. “It’s a myth.”

  “According to legend, you have to have four keys to find it, right?” Lady Shey inquired.

  “Aye, I remember where three are supposed to be. I can’t remember the fourth,” Ianthill recalled. “The first is a crystal in Lux Enor, the second is a staff entrusted to the kings of Symbor, and the third is a golden serpent currently in the collection of the king of Draegodor.”

  “Oh, I remember the fourth.” Enowene sighed. “It’s the life essence worn in an amulet by the kings of Ishrak.”

  Ianthill nodded. “That’s right! But that would mean that—”

  “Aye,” Lady Shey elaborated, “it’s around the neck of General Sythril and the cause of the curse of Ishrak.”

  “Do you think Theosus knows that?” Gondrial asked.

  “Either he is unaware or he thinks this new healer and a small band of wild magic wielders can take it from Sythril,” Ianthill speculated.

  Gondrial grimaced. “That would be a big mistake. So what are we going to do about it?”

  Ianthill took out his pipe and began stuffing it will tabac. “I am going to have a smoke and pull a chair up next to that old man over there.”

  Gondrial’s mouth curled into a smile. “I bet I can find some ale around here somewhere.”

  Lady Shey snickered. “I am certain if anybody could, it would be you.”

  “I could use a bit of leisure time,” Enowene said.

  “Not yet, Enowene” Lady Shey waved to her. “Let’s see if we can get something cooked up for the midday meal.”

  Ianthill and Sanmir found a couple of chairs nearby and joined the old man, whose name was Alerick. Ianthill gave the man his spare pipe after he found out Alerick’s had been lost. After a time, Gondrial returned with a keg of ale he found in a tunnel under the tavern. Alerick told him that Theosus had kept a few kegs there and that it was safe to drink. Gondrial would have drunk it anyway. The sun moved just past midday when Enowene and Lady Shey returned with the midday meal of dried meat, dried apricots, and onion bread.

  After the meal, the pipes came back out. Shey and Enowene moved up wind and set up their own spot to lounge.

  Ianthill blew out a puff of smoke. “So, Alerick, where did this mysterious healer come from?”

  “Theosus brought him and the girl that was with him from Trigothia. He saved them from being executed.”

  “He healed you, did he?” Sanmir was interested in the medical aspect.

  “Aye, he used the wild magic and somehow ordered my mind where I could control the use of the wild magic. He claimed he didn’t exactly know how he did it. That’s why they went after the book, so he could learn.”

  “I am curious, what did he look like?” Gondrial asked.

  “Oh, he is a thin fellow of about twenty seasons or so, young like that. Blondish hair, complained about everything a lot. I didn’t mind because he was curing me and all, but others say he had a rather irritating disposition. That’s about it.”

  “Sounds like a rather unpleasant fellow,” Gondrial said in between puffs of his pipe.

  “I don’t know. He seemed fine to me. You will meet him if you stick around.”

  Ianthill smacked his lips and put his pipe back in his mouth. “We won’t be here more than a day I don’t believe, but I do want to meet this healer sometime. He has done something that has not been seen since the War of the Oracle. I am glad there is a way for the afflicted to be healed.”

  “Theosus says we have to stay here for a time until we are certain the cure holds. Then we can all go back home if we wish.”

  “Theosus was your caretaker, right? Where did he come from?” Gondrial asked.

  “I am not sure; he was just always here. He is
the one who would bring us food and try to make our lives more comfortable. We would all be dead without him.”

  “Do you have family?” Sanmir asked.

  “A daughter.” Alerick shifted in his chair. “She lives with her mother in Tyre.” He puffed on his pipe. “Thank you for the pipe, friend Ianthill, it has been too long.”

  “You are welcome, Alerick,” Ianthill responded.

  Alerick leaned back in his chair. “Yes, sir, if not for that Rennon of Brookhaven, I would not be able to enjoy this fine tabac.”

  Gondrial started coughing and fell back in his chair.

  “Who did you say?”

  Alerick looked puzzled. “Rennon of Brookhaven. Is something wrong?”

  “Rennon is with this Theosus fellow heading to By’temog right now?” Sanmir asked to make sure.

  “Aye, Rennon of Brookhaven. He cured us all. He and his friend Deylia are with Theosus now.”

  “By the gods, now I remember where I heard the name Theosus,” Ianthill said. “Morgoran sent Rennon and Ganas to meet with him . . . in Trigothia!”

  Sanmir tapped out his pipe. “We have to get back to the ship.”

  “Ship, out here? What are you talking about?” Alerick asked.

  “Thank you for the fellowship, Alerick, but we must be going,” Ianthill said as he tapped out his pipe as well.

  Gondrial was brushing the ashes off his clothes when Ianthill slapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Get the girls and see to Alerick.”

  “Sleep?”

  “What else? I don’t mean kill him.”

  “Right,” Gondrial said as he headed for the spot where the women were taking an afternoon nap in the sun.

  Chapter 19: The Darkest Day

  The portal chamber did not have many places to hide, but Dorenn had managed it. He blended himself into the corner and watched as Morgoran stepped through the portal to Symbor before he stepped out of the shadows. He had finished repairing the connection to the Symbor portal mere moments before they arrived. Now he was faced with a dilemma— other people had put their lives in danger to go after him. He was particularly worried about Trendan, Vesperin, and Tatrice. He had no doubts about going after and retrieving the keys, each one by one, but now he had to decide which key to pursue first.

  The headaches were getting worse, and the urgency of getting to the tome was stronger than ever. With the tome, he could restore magic back to the way it was intended to be, the way Vex had intended it to be before the War of the Oracle. As Vex had warned him after the trials on the Isle of Doom, obstacles stood in every direction. He had to assess the situation and come up with a plan of action. Morgoran would be the toughest obstacle, so Symbor would have to wait. No, he had to get a hold on his thoughts. Morgoran was not the toughest; that distinction would be the dragons of Draegodor. The dragons would be a challenge that he was not yet prepared for. His only choice would be the general of Ishrak. He also needed to get his friends out of danger.

  He manipulated the portal settings and directed it to By’temog. The portal opened, and he went through it. He felt and suppressed the now familiar feeling of nausea the portal caused, and emerged in the ruined city, expecting to run immediately into Trendan, but no one was there to greet him. He exited the chamber and looked around for any sign of Trendan or Vesperin, but there was none. Something was wrong; something didn’t make sense. He quickly went back into the portal chamber to see the portal swirling open once more. His first impulse was to hide, but for some reason, he just stood there. Morgoran came through the portal, followed by Melias.

  “Clever, Morgoran, you knew I was hiding in the chamber, and you also knew I would not let you send my friends here to be put in danger on my account.”

  “It was a long shot, I’ll admit. I thought you might catch on. I would never go speak to a king while I send someone else into danger alone.”

  “Where did you send them?”

  “I sent Kimala, Bren, and Tatrice to Draegodor. As for Trendan, Fayne, and Vesperin, I sent them here. I just delayed their arrival time.”

  Trendan stepped through the portal first, followed by Fayne and then Vesperin.

  Fayne fell to her knees. “That is a vile thing. The longer you are in that portal, the worse it gets.”

  “Dorenn, you are here!” Trendan said. “It’s good to see you.”

  Vesperin shook off the ill effects of the portal, and Dorenn expected him to react similar to Trendan, but he just gave a feeble grin.

  “You are not yourself, Dorenn. I have brought your friends here to help convince you to come back with me. I want to help you.”

  “I know what you are thinking, Morgoran, but you are wrong. What happened at Rugania was supposed to happen. I am stronger; I have the combined knowledge of all who came before me. I even have aspects of you. I know how to help reverse the abominations to the dragon clans; I know how to preserve one’s essence in precious crystals as you and Toborne pioneered; I know what I am doing, and I know how to defeat the general. You just have to trust me.”

  “I know it seems like you are in control, that you can do anything, but it isn’t so. I too thought the strides I made with the help of Toborne would be a benefit. It isn’t true. It is a destructive path, not a creative one. You have to let me help you.”

  Dorenn could see that Morgoran was not going to see reason. I need to get them all out of here, he thought, but if I use too much essence, it will alert Sythril. “All right, open the portal. I will go with you.”

  “I’m afraid not. I’m not convinced you are sincere. It will require an act of trust on your part. You will have to come with me on my terms. I need to contain your ability to draw essence.”

  Anger welled up within Dorenn. Morgoran is manipulating me. Vex was right; no one will understand. I have to take control. Oh well, it looks like I will have to deal with the general sooner than I had planned, he thought.

  Dorenn drew in essence so fast, Morgoran was dumbfounded and directed it at the portal. The outer circle of the portal melted away like butter on a hot day. “No portal, no Lora Daine. If you want to leave here, you will have to fight your way out!”

  “Dorenn, don’t!” Morgoran commanded.

  Dorenn gave Vesperin and Trendan a nod as a pang of regret pierced his heart. “One day you’ll understand. One day you’ll know it had to be this way.”

  Morgoran drew in essence and threw it at Dorenn in a trail of pure energy, but Dorenn had already gone the instant before it would have hit him.

  Noises from somewhere in the center of the city told Dorenn that his presence was now known. The danger to his friends was minimal if he could get to the general before he got to them. Dorenn could take the amulet and lift the curse at the same time, thereby keeping his friends out of harm’s way. He turned to the chamber door and willed a massive stone slab to move over on top of it. It wouldn’t hold Morgoran forever, but it would allow Dorenn enough time to get at the general.

  Like a cat stalking his prey, Dorenn searched out the cursed army and found them making their way toward the source of the commotion he had made earlier. He leaped from the nearest building and landed right before who he thought must be General Sythril. He was not ready for the leader’s frightful appearance. He was tall, wearing a bloodstained set of armor with spikes and sharp edges. His face was sunken in and weatherworn, almost like decaying leather. The two sockets where is eyes should have been were glowing red orbs. The stench as the army marched up behind their leader was horrendous. Dorenn was not sure he could face the general based on the smell alone.

  “Halt, General,” he said. “I can lift your curse and free you from this bondage.”

  The general hesitated a moment before breaking out into howls of laughter. “What makes you think I am cursed, silly mortal? I earned my place here.” He outstretched his arms, gesturing to the city around him. “I earned all of this in battle.”

  Dorenn had not expected that answer. “I need that amulet!”
/>
  “Such boldness. You are welcome to try and take it from me.” The general’s men began to move in, and he held up his arm to keep them at bay. “My men are ready to tear you apart. Should I let them or should I make you one of us?”

  “Neither,” Dorenn said as he released his wrath upon the general, who easily blocked the attack and reflected it back at Dorenn. He dived out of the way before he was struck with his own magic.

  “You are out of your league, boy. Haven’t you heard the stories? Do you have any idea how many men have tried to defeat me since I became ruler of Ishrak?”

  “Wait, you believe you are the ruler of Ishrak? Do you not have any idea what you are?”

  “I know what I am! I am a king! I defeated Isheza and took his kingdom. Look at all the people around you! Hear them cheer their king to victory!”

  The general produced his massive sword and held it up to the sky. Dorenn cringed as he heard the distant screeching and cries from creatures unseen. Something else was coming.

  “Ah, so we meet in battle, Morgoran the Betrayer!”

  “I didn’t betray you, Brenlan. You never did have any brains, alive or rotten!”

  Morgoran proved to be more capable than Dorenn bargained for. Dorenn mentally kicked himself. Of course a stone over a door would not hold him for long. I should have rendered him unconscious.

  “Insults will not preserve you, betrayer! I have an army!”

  “Good, I’m glad you found something in your meaningless life . . .” he chuckled, “or rather, your after-death, to occupy your time. However, I have the Mt. Aroanian Crystal!” He gestured to Dorenn’s pack, and it began to smoke. Dorenn removed it and threw it to the ground. The crystal he took from the archives burned a hole through the pack and flew into Morgoran’s hand.

  The general gasped. “Get the crystal!”

  Hoards of undead swarmed from behind the general. Morgoran whispered some words into the crystal, and General Sythril screamed in agony and frustration as his soul was ripped from his decaying body and trapped in the azure Aroanian Crystal. The undead soldiers collapsed into a pile of atrocious-smelling bones and flesh.