Dark Journey

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Dark Journey Page 3

by Elizabeth Monvey


  He jumped up and started rifling through the jars, one after another as he searched for the one thing he needed. He had managed to hold off the aching, desperate hunger, but now … now he was all alone once more and it was a pain he couldn’t bear.

  In his haste, his arm brushed against several precariously balanced jars and caused several of them to fall. They broke with a resounding crash that jerked him still. He looked upon the shattered glass, his mouth hanging open, and then knew, just knew, she was in the doorway.

  Hark backed away, though he could only go so far in the crowded room. She snatched his right hand and took away the vial of purple liquid. He yanked the hand away and put it behind his back.

  “I see you’ve lost the path as well,” she grumbled.

  “Moon-ivy,” he managed to mutter through gritted teeth.

  “You could have told me before you destroyed five of my jars.” She turned away from him, back to the table where she grabbed a piece of green ivy he recognized well. She threw it into the brew and swirled it around before handing it back to him. “Drink this.”

  Hark shook his head.

  She frowned. “You’re a liability to them in this state.”

  “I had it under control,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

  “You have nothing under control,” she corrected. “The only sure thing in your life is the knowledge you will never have your thirst under control. All you can hope to do is be brave enough to turn away.”

  “Then I turn away from that.” He pointed to the purple liquid.

  The Faither smiled, showing blackened teeth. He had to repress his shudder of revulsion.

  “This is not moon-ivy,” she said, once more cackling out her mirth. The sound grated on his nerves. “This is part of your path.”

  It was a hard moment for Hark, as he looked at her and then the glass and then at Cax and Ali, who lay virtually lifeless upon the floor. Behind his back his hand started to shake until he gripped it tight in a fist, but he brought it out to stare at it.

  He could use a drink. No, he needed a drink. The desperate need for the moon-ivy was always in the back of his mind. How did I let it get so far out of control?

  “What will happen if I drink that?”

  “It takes you away from the plane of this existence, to look with eyes that don’t really see, to glean information on what you are.”

  “You’re insane. You know that, right?” He ran his shaky hands through his hair. “And I’m insane for contemplating this.”

  Then he reached over and took the drink from her.

  She gestured to the room straight across, where a small bed was placed against the wall. He frowned because it was obviously her bed. First, he didn’t want to lie where her hair had touched, no telling what insects where in that nest. Second, it was entirely too short, and his legs were going to hang off it.

  She gestured again.

  Hark figured he didn’t have much choice since Cax and Ali took up most of the floor. He walked to the bed and eyed it distastefully before sitting upon it. The ropes squeaked in protest at the unexpected weight, and he briefly wondered if the damn thing would break while he was on it. Before he could talk himself out of drinking the potion, he downed it, almost gagging at as the thick syrup slid down his throat.

  The Faither studied him for a moment. The firelight was behind her so all he could really make out was her stance and wild hair, but he could feel her eyes on him. He lay down and closed his eyes, and he felt her presence disappear. Whatever decision she had come to about him, he must have obviously passed.

  Chapter Five

  Ali shook his head, clearing the cobwebs lingering from the awful tasting tonic he’d ingested. Boiled fish with a touch of putrid spinach and a rotten egg thrown in for good measure. His stomach churned as he bent over and dry heaved, wishing he had something to clean out his mouth, but all he could do was spit out the vile aftertaste. Murmuring came through the brush, and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as curiosity had him following the sound. Cax and Hark stared at a stone building.

  “Where are we?” he asked them.

  “Haven’t a clue,” Hark said. “We’re trying to figure out if going in there is a good idea.”

  He pointed to the building.

  “It’s an old temple,” Ali informed them needlessly

  Cax pointed to the entryway. “You recognize that symbol?”

  Above the rusty doors was the face of a man who stared benignly down at them, yet next to him each side of his profile was shown, as if the stone man was turning his head back and forth rapidly. A disturbing moment chiseled entirely in stone.

  “Three faces of man,” he murmured. “Past, present, future.”

  “Step lively,” Cax muttered as he mounted the steps and pried the door, which swung open with a squeaky protest.

  They filtered into the temple and stood in the streaming light, letting their eyes adjust to the muted tones inside. A shrine was at the front but had long ago lost the offerings and tidings that worshipers had meticulously prepared for whatever deity the temple had been dedicated to.

  Ali took a few steps forward. “It feels very lonely here, doesn’t it?”

  He turned when neither Hark nor Cax answered, and found himself alone. He no longer stood inside the temple. The walls had melted away, and Ali found himself standing outside again, this time all alone. A rush of cool air swept over him to ruffle his hair, and the air was greatly appreciated against the sweat that still trickled down his neck. The sunlight had become extremely bright, causing him to narrow his eyes against the glare and hold up a hand to act as a shield.

  “Cax?” he called out. “Hark? Where are you?”

  They didn’t respond. Instead, the sound of a battle raging fierce and heavy echoed through the wilderness, and he turned in a circle, trying to find from where the source of the battle came from.

  There was a tap on his shoulder, and Ali pivoted…

  And came face to face with himself.

  Ali stared at himself in shock, unable to think of a rational explanation for what, or who, he stared at. The other him was dressed differently, in black leather with a silver band encircling his forehead. Slung across his chest was a harness holding a quiver of arrows that peeped out over one shoulder. In his right hand, he gripped a bow.

  This Warrior Alisander looked him up and down, sneering at each thing his gaze landed on, and Ali was all too aware that he didn’t measure up very well in the Warrior’s opinion. The awful cut hair, the traditional tunic, even the no-nonsense half boots. All of it a disgusting conformity that went against the total freedom that the Warrior Alisander represented.

  Ali lowered his head and backed up a step.

  “Who … who are you?” he asked the myrmidon in front of him.

  The Warrior Alisander slowly circled around, looking him up and down with a sneer twisting his face.

  “I was you,” the Warrior Alisander finally replied. “You were me.”

  Ali’s brain tried desperately to function, to move past the shock of seeing himself as tough and hardened as Cax. “Who … how … why are you here?”

  The Warrior Alisander shook him head as he came to stand directly in front of him. “Think, Ali. Use that brain to realize just what I am to you.”

  Ali took a deep breath. “I was in the temple … I heard sounds of a battle…”

  The symbol of the faces over the temple door flashed through his mind. Was he seeing a future version of himself, or was this just a mental projection of what he wanted to become?

  A cry came from behind him, and he spun, but Warrior Alisander, bow ready, had the fighters in sight. A trio of Krellian marauders bounded through the forest, bent on attacking, plundering and killing. Warrior Alisander fired off a shot, getting the first man straight on, who dropped liked a stone. Picking up the man’s fallen sword he threw it. It flipped end over end until the blade landed in the second man’s stomach. The third marauder still ran
, sword up, a war cry on his lips. He charged at the Warrior Alisander, who ducked at the last minute from the lustful swipe and jumped back a few steps. As the marauder charged past with a roar, Warrior Alisander quickly pulled another arrow and nocked the arrow, doing all this and turning to confront him in a matter of seconds.

  The arrow found its target as soon as the marauder turned to charge, burying deep in his heart. Warrior Alisander slowly walked back to stand in front of him.

  “That’s what you have to learn. If you don’t, you could be the reason your mates are killed. Are you prepared to take their lives into your hands?”

  Perhaps his test wasn’t about physical strength at all. His one fear had been if he would be strong enough to stand beside Cax and Hark, if he’d ever measure up to his mates in terms of fighting ability. He had to take into account what Cax had said, learn to trust the bow. Not only that, but to trust himself to do what needed to be done.

  The wind blew fiercely, causing his hair to temporarily blind him as the strands covered his eyes. When he pushed them back, Warrior Alisander was gone, and suddenly he was back in the town of Baize, located in the Far North. Two mountain ranges dominated on either side, but Ali wasn’t there to sightsee. In fact, he’d hoped never to lay foot in the ice lands again. His past had just caught up with him.

  Fear raced down his spine. He was beginning to hate this test, and the mind games it was putting him through. To pull his biggest regret forth, the event that plagued his mind to this day, and make him face it again? Not fair. He almost wished he could just fight off some marauders like his future self had, rather than face the stuff he’d shoved into the dark corners of his mind. Mental and emotional battles were much more difficult to deal with and recover from than physical stressors. He backed up until he hit something unmovable, then spun and stared up at the hate-filled face of Laurltrant.

  “You’re dead,” Ali whispered.

  Laurltrant chuckled, the evil sound causing his heart to stutter with trepidation. Ali turned and ran, as fast as possible through the knee-high snow. A blaster shot streaked by him, causing him to stop. He turned at stared at the weapon leveled at his chest.

  “You’re dead,” Ali said once more, shouting it loud.

  “And yet here I am,” Laurltrant replied. “You will be the destruction of Lord Hark.”

  Ali shook his head. “I’m just a servant.”

  “Let’s be honest, shall we? You are much more than just a servant.”

  This was more than déjà vu, Ali realized. He’d been here before, said the same things as before, and he’d watched as Cax had gotten hurt because he’d been too weak to act. Was this part of the test? Was he reliving the past in an effort to change it? Had Warrior Alisander been his future? Yes to all. The three-faced man had been his warning as to the battle he faced. I have to fight against myself to rid myself of my doubts, fears, and regrets.

  “Come,” Laurltrant ordered.

  The first time this moment had played out, Ali had obeyed. He had followed Laurltrant to the hut, where he’d been abandoned to starve and freeze to death in order to lure Cax and Hark into a trap. Laurltrant meant to kill the two people who meant the most to Ali, who meant more to him than his own life. If this was a test, meant to repeat the past and prove his feelings, then he wasn’t about to fail.

  This time, instead of hanging his head and marching past like he did back then, Ali charged. He took off running and barreled into Laurltrant, who was either stunned at the maneuver or simply acting in the flashback.

  “I won’t let you hurt my mates!” Ali cried. Laurltrant fell forward with Ali on top of him, beating him with his fists. “I will not be the worm on the hook, not again!”

  Resolve flooded every cell in his body. All his uncertainty and worries washed out of him as he landed punch after punch on his enemy. Whatever Cax and Hark faced, he would fight by their sides. He would do anything in his power to protect their backs. Yet even as satisfaction sluiced through him for facing and fighting his fears, Laurltrant cackled again.

  The man flipped Ali over, picked him up with ease, and jabbed a sharp object into Ali’s abdomen. Pain radiated out of every nerve ending. Ali stared in disbelief at the man who had dealt the death blow, not fully accepting that his life was over before it had even begun, especially when he’d just come to terms about himself.

  It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything but fall to the ground.

  Is this what it feels like to die?

  If so, at least he’d cross over without the fears and regrets he’d carried for so long and without having sacrificed his mates. But still. He never imagined dying alone without his men at his side. He cried out, screaming at the unjustness of it all.

  Chapter Six

  Hark blinked. Where the hell am I?

  He lay next to Cax at the bottom of a hill, in the underbrush that had not been cleared, with an awful taste in his mouth. The old Faither floated through his mind, but he couldn’t seem to grasp all she’d said to him. It was like trying to remember a dream that slipped further out of reach with every tick of the clock.

  “Where are we?” he muttered.

  “Where’s Ali?”

  Hark looked around. Alisander was not with them. A sudden roar rumbled over the land, causing both men to jump.

  “What was that?” Hark demanded.

  “I don’t know. Come.”

  They inched their way forward on their stomachs, following after the sound, keeping out of immediate sight until they came to a drop-off. A large pit spread out before them as a vast wasteland, nothing more than a black hole of scorch marks and charred objects. Various bones and melted swords peaked through the ash. Hark noticed something like a helmet or a dented vest lying forlornly. Near the back of the pit, a stone platform extended out a foot like an altar for sacrifice.

  “What is this place? A test?”

  “Has to be,” Cax replied. “Although I’ve never been here before.”

  “What caused all this?”

  The words had no sooner left his mouth when it appeared landing in the large quarry. Wings folded, body serpentine and head with horns … a dragon mottled with color and scales. It opened its mouth and let forth a stream of fire that streamed with its powerful roar. The intense heat touched everything, including them as both men pressed deeper into the underbrush. Breathing heavily, they twisted onto their backs and lay staring up into the sky as the warmth faded from their faces. The ground shook with as the dragon walked. Neither moved until the world was peaceful again.

  “It’s a dragon,” Hark whispered needlessly. “A dragon!”

  “I see that,” Cax whispered back.

  Hark turned his head to look at him. “But it’s not a real dragon, is it? I mean, it can’t be real. They don’t exist.”

  “I believe it’s real enough to kill us. I felt that fire it breathed.”

  “So what are we supposed to do? Kill it? Is that our test?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “Well, this is your domain.”

  “My domain? Do you remember when I said I had never been here before?”

  “You know what I mean.” Hark waved a hand around. “This whole mission test.”

  “My last test was thirty days devoted to mind, body, and spirit challenges. Not once did I have to fight a dragon.”

  A cry came from the pit and had them both scrambling to look over the side once more.

  “That was a human scream,” Hark said.

  “Ali,” Cax said worriedly. “He’s got to be held prisoner down there.”

  “Held prisoner by a dragon? How did it capture him?”

  Cax threw him an exasperated look. “You keep asking me questions you know I don’t know the answer to.”

  “Because you always act like you know the answer to everything.”

  “Once again let me emphasize I’ve never been in this situation before,” he said irately. “But if I were to hazard a guess, I’d sa
y the opening to the lair is beneath that altar.”

  “Considering there’s no other hole in that pit I’d say you’re probably correct.”

  “I’m glad you agree. So if we die, we’re going to die together.”

  “What I’ve always dreamed of.” Hark took a deep breath, shifting a little closer to the edge. “When you asked me what dragons I’ve slain I didn’t know the words would be prophetic—ahh!”

  He slipped and fell, sliding headfirst through the ash and down into the pit, out of sight.

  “Hark!” Cax yelled, scrambling after him. “Hark!”

  Without thought, he followed. The ash choked him through mouth and nose as he slid his way to the bottom. A second later he landed on top of Hark in an ungainly tumble of arms and legs. Both coughed.

  “Well, that was one way to get down here,” he muttered.

  Cax huffed in agreement.

  They stood, and only then did Hark notice the pile of bones scattered around, providing a morbid field to traverse. His foot hit something, and he bent to grab it, pulling out a broadsword. He tested it in his hand, feeling the weight, then showed it off to Cax before turning and coming face to face with an entrance to a cave carved into the stone and earth. Stalactites hung from the top while stalagmites reached up to meet them, forming an odd vision of teeth. A gap in the center allowed easy access to the unknown depths.

 

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