The Lion's Crypt (The Emberlyn Chronicles Book 2)

by Michael K. Rose

  Penny looked past Anneli at the lights. “This was only revealed after the old capital was abandoned and the tunnels were dug?”

  Anneli nodded. “Before then, before Dourok’s rise, the rulers of our people would draw on the energy of the vortices from a distance. One needed only to stand on the earth above this place to feel its power. Without direct contact, though, testing someone’s magical affinity was a days-long ritual. We can test much more quickly now, even if that does increase the danger.”

  She gestured toward the ceiling. “Lanion was founded here because of this vortex. With much of the Great Forest unsafe due to the Dourosh, we knew that of all the vortices, this one could not be captured by Dourok. There are four basic kinds of magic, but understanding is what gives one the knowledge to use any of them. Some understanding in inherent in all people with a magical affinity, but access to this place is what has allowed us to repel Dourok for the past two millennia. It has given our leaders a crucial tactical advantage.”

  She smiled at the two siblings. “Are you ready?”

  Penny looked at her brother and swallowed. “Who goes first?”

  “I will,” Owen said quickly. He pulled at the hem of his shirt as he stepped toward Anneli.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Even without the test we all know you’re the stronger of us. You should see how I fare so you have some idea of what will happen to you. If you can at all prepare yourself for it—”

  “She cannot,” Anneli said. “You can prepare yourself mentally for the strain of it, but there is no way to predict how deeply it will affect you. Men and women with the strongest of wills have been reduced to madness by this ordeal. Most recover in time, but some….” She shook her head. “Again, I must remind you that the choice is yours. Do you both wish to proceed?”

  “Yes,” Penny said.

  Owen took another step forward. “Yes. And I still wish to go first.”

  Anneli took his hand and turned toward the bend in the tunnel. “Then let us begin.”

  She led them around the curve, and Penny saw the source of the multicolored lights. The tunnel opened into a cavern, smaller than the storage rooms they had passed through but not by much. In the center of the cavern, half excavated from the rock, was a glowing crystal. It shined with every color of the rainbow, reminding her of the lights in the water near the healing fountain. In front of the crystal was a low bench carved from stone. It had been formed from an outcropping of rock that had been left in place when the cavern was excavated, and the seat had been worn smooth by centuries of use. In the places where it was not repeatedly abraded, Penny could see thick growths of rock. The entire chamber was rougher that the others she’d seen—the stone clearly grew back more quickly here where it had direct exposure to the crystal.

  Anneli leaned heavily on Owen as they approached the bench, and he helped her sit before taking a seat at her side. Penny stood behind them, her hands on Owen’s shoulders, as Anneli took a moment to recover.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here,” she said. “There are others—the elders—who normally test for magical affinities when young men and women come of age. But for you two, I need to experience the results firsthand. There can be no chance for confusion or misinterpretation.”

  She squeezed Owen’s hand and stood, guiding him up along with her. “Keep your left hand held in my right,” she said. “When I instruct you to do so, place your right hand on the crystal.”

  She led him the few steps toward the vortex and paused. She leaned forward and kissed Owen lightly on the forehead then smiled as she looked into his eyes. “It will take but a moment,” she whispered.

  She raised her left hand and held it an inch from the crystal. “Like this, Owen. But don’t touch it just yet.”

  Owen took a deep breath and mirrored her position.

  “Close your eyes,” Anneli said. “Clear your mind of all thought. Breathe. Are you ready?”

  Owen nodded.

  “Now.”

  As one, they placed their hands on the crystal. It brightened, forcing Penny to snap her eyes shut and turn away. The rainbow of colors blended together into a blinding white light. She could feel the heat from it, and the magical energy that had been gently pulsing from it now sent a shock wave through her body. She leaned forward, steading herself against the bench, and was about to turn away and run when she heard Owen cry out in anguish.

  The crystal immediately dimmed, and she opened her eyes to see him crumple to the ground along with Anneli. They were two dark silhouettes against the glowing crystal, and Penny scrambled around the bench as she tried to blink away the white spots in her eyes.

  As she reached them, Anneli opened her eyes and smiled. “Good,” she whispered. “Very good.”

  Owen stirred and looked up toward his sister. He was pale and sweaty, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He nodded and blinked a few times. “Do you remember when I burned my hand on the kettle?”

  “Yes.”

  “It felt like that, but all over—and inside—my body. But the pain is gone now. Like Anneli said, it lasted only a moment. Now I just feel… tired.”

  Anneli was getting to her feet. She was also pale and looked as though she hadn’t slept in days, and Penny helped her up. “We’ll come back later for my test,” she said. “You can’t go through that a second time.”

  “I can,” Anneli said.

  “But look at yourself.”

  Anneli leveled her gaze at Penny. “I have allowed you and Owen to become familiar with me, but I am still queen here, Penelope Blackmoor. Do not argue with me.”

  Penny pinched her lips together and lowered her eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Anneli put her hand on Penny’s cheek and brought her gaze back up to hers. “Trust me,” she said, taking Penny’s left hand.

  Owen had made his way back to the bench and was sitting with his head in his hands.

  “Are you quite well?” Anneli called.

  “Yes. I will be.”

  Anneli took a breath. “His potential is great,” she said to Penny. “Like Faric, he has an affinity for the magic of destruction, but even Faric cannot see the formless creatures the way Owen can. Once he begins his training, we will learn exactly what he is capable of. Now… are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  As before, Anneli placed her hand above the crystal and waited for Penny to do the same. “Now,” she said.

  As soon as Penny’s hand was on the vortex, she understood what Owen had meant. It felt like her entire body, even her soul, was on fire. Her mind reeled at the power flowing through her, and she was only dimly aware of the heat and glow from the crystal. The pain was too great for her to even comprehend it for several seconds, but when she did, she screamed out and fell, just as Owen had. Anneli went down with her and pulled her into an embrace as she began to cry.

  “It’s all right,” Anneli whispered. She opened her mouth to speak again when the crystal pulsated. Anneli snapped her eyes toward it and let out a string of syllables in her native language.

  Penny managed to crack her eyes open and look up through her tears. “What is it? What’s happening?”

  “The magical energy surges whenever someone touches the crystal… but it should return to normal once contact is broken.”

  Penny turned away from the bright light as the vortex sent wave after wave of magical energy through her body. She wanted to stand and run, but she didn’t have the strength to move. “What’s happening?” she cried.

  “Something I have read about but never seen,” Anneli said. “You have fed the vortex. It is surging from the power within you.”

  “Fed?”

  Penny found enough energy to crawl a few inches from the crystal. Sensing her distress, Anneli pulled herself between Penny and the vortex and shielded her from the energy. The crystal pulsed for several more seconds before once again dimmin
g to its usual glow.

  Penny rolled over onto her back. Above her head she could see Owen on the bench, still with his head in his hands. Below her feet, Anneli was lying on her side, facing away from the crystal and breathing shallowly, her face pinched in distress.

  Penny parted her lips and tried to form words—any words at all—but she could not. She felt drunk and exhausted and nauseated all at once, and she knew that nothing could stop her from falling into unconsciousness now. She closed her eyes and let the world disappear.

  The dreams began instantly. She was surrounded by the multicolored glow of the crystal. From the light emerged shapes and sounds. She saw the shadowy wraith whip by her; she saw Owen’s face and heard his voice as though coming from far off. She saw Sir William and Sir Stephen—they were in the palace above, sitting in the chamber off Anneli’s throne room, waiting for them to return from their test.

  The last image she saw before regaining consciousness was George. George Ashberry, who had died with a Dourosh arrow in his stomach. He was in a dark place. Was it the afterlife? She could not be sure, but her heart ached at the sight of him. The guilt over falling in love with Sir William so soon after George’s death returned, and as she began to cry, she awakened.

  Owen and Anneli were leaning over her, gently shaking her and calling her name. She reached up for Owen’s hand, and he took it. Over the course of several minutes, they roused her enough to get her up and onto the bench, where she sat between them, supported by their arms, until she felt well enough to speak.

  “What happened? You said I fed… fed the vortex?” she managed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Anneli said, “that you are one of the rare individuals who not only has a great affinity for magic, but magic is inherent within you.”

  Penny looked up at the queen in confusion.

  “Most of us draw on the magical energy of the earth… sourced at vortices like this one,” Anneli explained. “But you possess it within yourself. Now that it has been awakened by the test, it will shine from you like a beacon. Everyone with a magical affinity will feel it radiating from you. You’ll still draw on the vortices to cast spells, but they will come to you more quickly, more easily.” Anneli stared at Penny in wonder. “This ability… it has only been recorded in three others. King Uriac, who lived eight hundred years ago but died young, before he could develop his power to its full potential… and Lanioc and Dourok themselves.”

  “What does that mean?” Penny asked. She fought back more tears, overwhelmed by what the queen was telling her.

  “It means that if ever we had a hope to defeat Dourok once and for all… you are it. After two thousand years, you may be the one to finally bring this war to an end.”

  Chapter Three

  Gralock

  A pale face, its eyes and mouth thrown open in fear and anguish, stared up at General Gralock as he stood amongst the dead. He could feel sticky blood beginning to dry on his face and arms, but he felt no desire to wipe it away. It was the blood of the Lanosh, the blood of his enemies, and the thought of how much of it had been spilled across the field made the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin.

  He regarded the dead Lanosh soldier at his feet. Casually, he brought the tip of his sword down and ran the point across the dead man’s throat. More thick blood oozed out, and he watched it slide around the side of the neck and lazily drip onto the ground.

  “General,” a voice called from behind him. “We’ve found one alive.”

  Gralock spun on his heel and regarded the Dourosh soldier. “Show me.”

  The soldier led him across the lightly wooded field to the far end of what had once been the enemy line. There, he caught sight of a Lanosh soldier sitting up, guarded by three more of his men. Gralock waved them away and knelt down in front of the Lanosh. He was young, perhaps twenty. The horns on his head were stunted, and a brief glance across his face told Gralock that if he had any magical affinity at all, it was undeveloped. He didn’t need to worry about him trying any tricks.

  “I want information. What’s your name, boy?”

  The young Lanosh fixed Gralock’s gaze but said nothing.

  “A brave one, eh?”

  Gralock raised his sword and regarded the blood marring the shiny steel blade. He brought the blade to his mouth and licked up some of the fluid. “Bravery is fine when you’re surrounded by your comrades,” he said, “but once you’re all alone, what purpose does it serve? They’re dead. They’ll never see or hear you again. Who are you protecting now?”

  “The rest of my people. Those soldiers who weren’t slain today and the civilians back in Lanion.”

  “A mere handful of whom you know personally. Your people… my people. It’s all relative, isn’t it? Look at my face, boy. What do you see?”

  “I see a monster. A sad, pathetic creature twisted by Dourok’s malign corruption.”

  Gralock ignored the insult and brought his free hand up. “But these horns… they’re not unlike yours. The truth is that I am—we are—your people. For two thousand years Lord Dourok has been trying to make you Lanosh see that, but your rulers have kept you blind. Those outside the Great Forest… they’re the real others. Hornless… magicless… crude, primitive, ignorant of the true nature of the world. Lord Dourok saw this two thousand years ago. He tried to make the rest of you listen and understand this. They are the threat. They are the enemy. They breed in numbers so great that they could annihilate all life within the Great Forest with hardly any effort at all.”

  He chuckled. “Making that swamp and raising the ward around the forest… that was the only thing Lanioc got right. That’s the only thing that’s kept us safe from the outsiders all these years. Otherwise they would have felled the trees of this forest like they have so many of their own. The entire continent was once one beautiful wood, you know. Creatures magical and non-magical alike roamed freely throughout it, and our people lived off the bounty of the forest. But the hornless… they never could appreciate such beauty. They fell their forests in great swaths and choke their rivers with their own excrement. Yes, my boy… they are the real enemy.”

  “You can’t lie to me. I know the history. Dourok raised an army of the hornless to try and defeat Lanioc. That’s not the act of someone trying to protect us from outsiders.”

  Gralock shrugged. “He used them as a means to an end, yes. But his desire was always to control the hornless and keep them subjugated so that our people would be forever safe!”

  The young Lanosh soldier turned away from the general. He placed his hand over the wound in his thigh and took a breath. “I know you have a strong magical affinity; otherwise you wouldn’t be a general. Use it to try and turn me if you must, but I will not willingly give up information about my comrades.”

  Gralock shook his head sadly. “Do you know the real reason we’ve been killing each other for two thousand years, my boy? It’s not because Lord Dourok is evil and your rulers are good. It’s all a matter of philosophy. Lord Dourok would have been happy to part ways with Lanioc two thousand years ago and lead his people as he saw fit while Lanioc led his. But Dourok saw both the weakness and the danger inherent in the hornless. He knew what needed to be done, but Lanioc could not see the truth.”

  He stood and turned to look down the line of dead Lanosh. “I know your people learn about the hornless and about the kingdoms outside the Great Forest. The swamp they call the Bleaklands… you’ve read about how the people there are forced to live, haven’t you?”

  The young Lanosh nodded.

  “Good, my boy. Good. Then you know that they live in squalor. Not because they must, but because their rulers choose to make them live that way.”

  “The Dourosh live no better.”

  Gralock scoffed. “Out of necessity, boy. We are at war. We are soldiers and do what must be done. But tell me: if there were peace—as there has been in the kingdoms outside the Great Forest for many years now—could you justify not giving food to the hu
ngry if it was plentiful? Could you justify not giving them decent homes? In Lanion, yes, there are the more fortunate and the less, but does a single man, woman or child die in the streets from want?”

  “No… no, they don’t.”

  “And what would you think of a king or queen who did allow that to happen? Is Lord Dourok truly the evil one? He who wants to free even the hornless of such deprivation and make sure those who allow that to happen never again rule over others? Or is it the ones who try to stop him who need to answer for their deeds? He would keep the hornless subjugated, yes, but their lives would be improved by his rule. If only this war would end, he would finally have a chance to unite everyone—Dourosh, Lanosh and even hornless—in everlasting peace.”

  The young Lanosh’s lip trembled. Gralock smiled. Not all magical abilities were overt. He had learned of his strengths at a young age and had spent three decades developing them. A few minutes with a man—nearly any man save those with strong magical affinities—and he could convince him of just about anything.

  Gralock knelt back down and placed his hand on the Lanosh’s shoulder. “Help me, my boy. Help me aid Lord Dourok in his noble work. Won’t you?”

  The young soldier nodded.

  “Good boy.” He stood again and waved one of his lieutenants over. “Interrogate him. He’ll tell you everything he knows now.”

  “And afterward, sir?”

  “Treat him as well as we treat all prisoners of war.”

  The lieutenant grinned and turned to the young Lanosh as Gralock made his way back down the line of dead. He made a rough count as he went and was pleased to see that the dead Lanosh outnumbered the Dourosh by almost two to one. There were perhaps three hundred dead in all. It wasn’t a large number in the grand scheme; he had heard about battles among the hornless claiming thousands in a single day. Inside the Great Forest, though, where war had raged on and off for two thousand years, this was considered a great victory.