The Trials Of Ashbarn ( Book 5)

by Jeff Gunzel

  When Amoshi caught up, he whistled through his teeth at the awesome sight. “You telling me about this was one thing, but seeing the damage with my own eyes...” He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how much force it must have taken to actually do such a thing. “She was thrown so hard that her body did this to a tree? How could anyone have possibly survived such an impa—” Jacob’s sudden glare stopped him short. “Um...yeah, sorry.”

  Jacob rushed up ahead. Faint recollections of a far-off battle assaulted his memory in incomplete fragments. It was like trying to remember a dream he’d had a long time ago. The memory was fuzzy; several pieces were missing. He stopped running and started to walk, looking down at the torn grass. The sun was coming up now, and he could see clear signs of battle everywhere.

  “Just stay where you are,” Amoshi called out, catching up to him once more. “I need to look around.” Jacob didn’t reply. He only gazed about, trying to remember what happened that day. Why had he lost Athel? He glanced back over to the broken tree and shivered. Had she been killed, then dragged away like some sort of prize? No! I refuse to believe that. What then?

  He paced back and forth, thinking hard, trying to piece the facts together. Just what happened that fateful day? He remembered regaining consciousness after someone had hit him from behind. When he came to, Athel was engaged in battle with Zhou. He snuck up on the beast, then attacked him from behind. Yes, that’s when he threw her into that tree. It was really coming back to him now. We fought. That beast was so strong. I broke my staff on his jaw, but he was still standing. The memory was coming back faster now. I still held a broken piece in my hand. I rushed him. I-I was going to kill him with it! Then... Then... Then what? He couldn’t remember anything beyond that point.

  “Jacob.”

  I just can’t remember what happened after—

  “Jacob, snap out of it,” called Amoshi. “Come over here.” Jacob wandered over, still in a haze. Amoshi kneeled on the ground and ran his fingers across some dead grass. “Athel’s footprints are all over this area. Can you see?”

  Jacob bent down to look, straining his eyes. He couldn’t tell anything out of the ordinary. Maybe a few blades of bent grass, nothing more. “So what? I told you we were both here,” Jacob said a little defensively. He just didn’t want to admit he couldn’t really see anything.

  Amoshi shook his head in agreement. “Yes, but you didn’t tell me you had company.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Jacob, now getting so close to the ground he could have kissed it.

  “Here, here, over here.” Amoshi pointed out several sprints that even Jacob could see.

  “Paw prints?” said Jacob, panic beginning to swell up inside him. “She was taken by wolves?”

  “No. That’s not what I see here,” said Amoshi, the uncertainty in his voice doing little to comfort Jacob. “For one thing, these prints are enormous. I’ve never seen wolves this big. And something else is wrong here.” He bit his lip, stalling, as if not believing it himself.

  “What? What else is wrong?” said Jacob, looking down to the ground, then back to Amoshi.

  “They don’t walk like wolves, or any other four-legged beasts, for that matter. They walk on two legs, just like people.” Jacob didn’t know what to say to that. “There is good news, though.” Amoshi moved forward, hunched, trying to make sense of the crisscrossing tracks. “There are no additional signs of battle here. It looks like she went with them...willingly.”

  “Went where?! Which way did they take her?”

  Amoshi looked up, his gaze falling on a patch of forest up ahead. It was here that the vegetation became much more thick and dense. Thorny vines wrapped themselves tightly around massive trees, making that part of the forest seem impenetrable. “The tracks lead that way.”

  Chapter 9

  Eric ran his hand along Asami’s thick, scaly neck. The krackledon snorted, then lashed out with her long, thin tongue. It swiped across Eric’s face several times before snapping back behind two separate rows of razor-sharp teeth. It tickled, forcing Eric to pull back. “I’m sorry, Asami, but you can’t come with me this time.” She snorted again, a piercing, windy rush that sent clouds of mist from her nostrils. “I know,” he said, stroking her again. “I’m going to miss you too. But don’t worry. I’ll be back soon enough.” He avoided her eyes when saying that.

  Most in the village still marveled at the fact that Eric had somehow tamed a krackledon. They were wild, savage beasts known to kill on sight. As a general rule, if you spotted one flying in the sky, it was already too late. Few ever laid eyes on one and lived to tell of it. Yet here it was, a loyal mount for the Shantie Rhoe himself. She had even been fitted with a new saddle made of strong black leather with hanging foot straps.

  After she had destroyed the barn upon trying to reach her master, they thought it was best if she were no longer enclosed. They built a freestanding shelter with no walls, only a roof held up with wooden posts. Here she remained chained most of the time, even though Eric took her out for flights nearly every day.

  “Here, I’ve got something for you,” said Eric, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a shiny red apple, then held it under her muzzle. She sniffed it a few times, mostly as a courtesy, before a lightning-fast tongue snatched it up. Crunching away happily, she seemed to forget he was even there.

  “Eric, we’re ready. The Circle is waiting for you,” said Kelus from behind. He watched Eric stroke Asami’s neck. “Take your time, Eric. We’ll be ready when you are.”

  “I’ll only be a moment,” said Eric. He heard Kelus leave, then continued stroking Asami’s neck. “I have to go now. Don’t worry, I leave you in good hands.”

  “Were you planning to say goodbye to me too?” came a familiar voice.

  Eric sighed. “Of course I was, Jade. I guess I’m just...stalling.” He turned and saw her with Nima. The three of them stood in awkward silence for a time.

  “I’ll uh…I’ll leave you two alone,” said Nima, taking the hint.

  Jade watched her go, then turned and ran to Eric. She threw her arms around him, holding him tightly. “I know what you’re afraid I’ll say,” she said softly. “That we should leave now while we still have a chance. That the two of us can find a quiet place out in the countryside where no one will ever find us. We can live in peace, and leave all this madness behind.” She squeezed him harder, then slowly pushed away. “Well, deep down inside, I do want those things. I would give anything in the world to know you’re safe. For us to live normal lives like everyone else. But there is still one problem.” She looked into his eyes, her cheeks wet with tears. “I know you, and no one in the world is ever going to stop you from doing what’s right. You’ve never turned your back on anyone in your life. It would be foolish of me to think you might do it now.”

  Eric kissed her tenderly. She ran her hands along the rigid black scars burned into his arms. Those scars were now a part of who he was. Jade accepted that. She loved him unconditionally.

  “It seems you know me better than I know myself,” he whispered. “But that also means you’re aware of how stubborn I can be. The gods themselves will not keep me from you. When this is over, I promise to return.”

  He turned and left without another word. Jade dropped to her knees and covered her face, not daring to watch him go. Some illogical part of her mind convinced her that if she didn’t see it, it wasn’t happening. That somehow none of this was real.

  * * *

  “So where is he?” asked Wara, impatiently tapping a bony finger on the tip of her chin. “The final preparations have been made. The sooner we send him off, the sooner our village can rest easy. Once he’s gone, we will no longer be a target for the Crimson Empire.”

  “He’ll be along shortly,” said Kelus, eyes on the beads hanging along the doorway. He glanced at the twins briefly, both sitting in identical wooden chairs. Their eyes were closed, hands resting on their knees. He turned his focus back to Wara. “If I may
speak freely?” he asked. She nodded, those piercing green eyes boring into him like a cat watching a mouse. “I’m sorry you feel the way you do.”

  “And what way would that be, Kelus?” she growled, sounding every bit as impatient as she looked.

  “I mean no disrespect,” he added quickly, giving a slight bow. “I, too, fear for the safety of our village, but there is a lot more at stake here. This is far bigger than you or I. I feel in my heart that Eric really is the true Shantie Rhoe. And if I’m correct, he will be the first to ever survive the Trials of Ashbarn. The world as we know it will be changed forever.”

  “And if he isn’t?” said the twins, sharing a single dry voice, heads bobbing to the side, then up again with a cracking sound.

  “Then he has all but doomed us,” said Wara, her eyes still burning into Kelus. “The Takeri Clan will forever be recognized as the fools who worshiped the feet of a mortal man. A village of simpletons who harbored a false idol, then incurred the wrath of the Crimson Empire. And deservedly so... Forgive us for not sharing your optimistic views, Kelus, but I assure you we are viewing this situation from multiple angles. Even the spirits themselves have been known to be wrong.”

  “It matters not,” said Kelus with a shrug. “Our opinions will have little influence on the trials themselves.”

  “Which is why we shall delay no longer,” said Eric, swiping back the beads and entering. He was now wearing the dark-blue hooded cloak they had asked him to wear before entering the trials—yet another peculiar tradition he didn’t understand, but chose not to question. Underneath the loose fabric, Spark was strapped tightly to his side. His sword was just about the only equipment he was allowed to bring. “It seems I owe you an apology,” he said to Wara. “If your clan has been marked as you seem to believe, I am truly sorry for the trouble. I can only hope that when I go, the danger will go with me and leave this place in peace.”

  “That is what we all wish,” said Wara, walking up to Eric. She tugged and swiped at his cloak, straightening it out in an almost motherly fashion. Was she stalling for some reason? Through all the unnecessary tugging, the flap near his collar pulled open. Wara stared at the burnt markings lining his upper chest and neck, mesmerized.

  With a flick of his wrist he closed the flap, forcing Wara to snap out of it. “Enough of this,” he said. “Say what you must and let me get on with it.” She turned away without a word.

  The twins held their fists in the air and began to chant a sorrowful, moaned groaning that resembled that of a dying ox. Wara moved up behind them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. She did not chant the way they did, but swayed back and forth to their rhythm.

  Eric watched the unsettling display with both awe and curiosity. The mystic arts had always been a mystery to him, although he certainly found them intriguing. The one person closer to him than any had recently discovered she had gifts of this sort, so he figured he’d better get used to it.

  The black cauldron at the center of the room began to steam and boil. The thick, purple ooze produced egg-sized bubbles. They grew and grew, tripling in size before bursting, leaving a light, flowery scent.

  Eric felt a hand on his back. “I’m not going to stand here and promise you everything is going to be alright, my boy. We’re long past any of that now,” said Kelus.

  “Of course you’re not,” said Eric. “That’s what I respect about you. You do what needs to be done, and say only what needs to be said. Saving a person’s feelings is a luxury, and we passed that stage a long time ago.” He reached under his hood, scratching his temple. “I wish I were half the leader you are.”

  Kelus sighed. “There is so much you don’t know about me, Eric. I have done many things I’m not proud of. You hold me in such high regard based on the little time we’ve spent together. I can’t help but wonder, had you known me longer, would you still feel the same way?”

  Eric laid his hand on Kelus’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Sometimes it’s not the choices we make, my friend, but how we handle the consequences. I know what kind of man you are.”

  The chanting increased in tempo and volume. It sounded more like screaming now. Suddenly, Wara and the twins stopped swaying, then snapped their heads up. They opened their eyes, releasing a bright orange light that scattered around the room. Both Kelus and Eric shielded their eyes, trying to see through the brightness. Squinting, they could see a large, golden hole, shimmering behind the Circle. Like a giant mirror, it reflected some sort of image, but they couldn’t make it out through the orange light.

  Wind swirled around the room, blowing dust and bits of paper everywhere. It seemed to be pulling everything towards the doorway. For the first time, Eric seemed a bit uneasy. He turned to Kelus once more. “We’re out of time. I need to go now,” he shouted over the noise of rushing air. Still shielding his eyes, his long, wild hair whipping around in the hurricane-like conditions, he continued, “I might not return. If such is my fate, you must tell Jacob something for me. Tell him he has been a great ally in my quest, but a far better friend than I deserve. Tell him—”

  “When you return you can tell him yourself,” Kelus interrupted, smiling.

  Eric pulled his blue hood forward, holding it down over his face. It fluttered wildly in the swirling winds. “How can you be so sure?” he hollered.

  “Because,” Kelus grinned, his kind eyes giving him a calm, youthful appearance all of a sudden, “I know what kind of man you are. Now go!”

  Eric patted his waist, making sure Spark was secure. He ran straight forward, leaping over the black cauldron. Thick bubbles swelled up as if trying to engulf his feet. He sprung off the far edge of the bowl, propelling himself onward. Gliding through the orange light, he blindly splashed through the golden doorway. It consumed him in a spray of yellow sparkles, then snapped shut with a pop.

  The swirling winds disappeared instantly; dust and debris began to settle around the room. Tiny bits of parchment and paper fluttered down like leaves. Kelus wiggled a finger in his ear, trying to relieve the constant ringing.

  “It’s done,” said Wara. “And we are better for it. We are safe, and our people can rest easy now.”

  Kelus did not ask permission to speak freely this time. “We are safe, you say? You three make it sound as if Eric were evil. Like we have just rid ourselves of some sort of black curse. May I remind you the Shantie Rhoe was sent here to help us, not hurt us?”

  Wara clenched her fists and stormed up to Kelus. She towered over the little man, fire dancing in her eyes. “He is a marked man. His presence alone put us in constant danger. Protecting him any longer was not a risk I was willing to take.”

  Kelus calmly turned away and headed for the beaded door. He spoke softly, unconcerned whether or not they heard him, “All things worth protecting require a measure of risk.”

  * * *

  With his hands protectively shielding his face and hood pulled down, Eric splashed through the doorway in a bloom of golden sparkles. He landed, stumbling forward a few steps, then pulled back his hood. His blood chilled as he stared off into the distance at the Mountain of Dreams. Massive, jet-black, it stood tall and jagged, as if any part of its stone exterior could cut like a razor. It was black as night, yet glossy, like it either had been rained on recently or was made of some sort of quartz or crystal. Eric looked around and decided the former was improbable.

  This place was as dry and dead as any he had ever seen. Was he even in Shangti anymore? The dry clay beneath his feet was cracked, crumbling further with every step. There were no signs of life anywhere, save for a few withered cactus husks that must have dried out months ago. Dust filled winds swirled about. Mini tornadoes danced in tight spirals, the orange dust swirling within giving them life. Eric covered his mouth and nose, trying to not breathe in the debris.

  The black sky lit up again and again with endless flashes. Heat lightning, Eric assumed. Not a single time did he hear the rumble of thunder. It was odd watching the overly active s
ky blaze away. Bolt after bolt, flash after flash illuminated everything in total silence.

  He began to move towards the mountain, his movements appearing choppy in the shifting, uneven light of the soundless storm. The more he walked, the more he realized the mountain was not as close as he first thought. Mercifully, there were few obstacles to slow him down. In fact, there was nothing here at all. Bone-dry dirt, a long-dead weed or cactus here and there, and the mountain up ahead were all he could see. Looking around, he couldn’t see a tree line or separate mountain range anywhere. As far as he could tell, there was nothing here but endless desert and that black rock that seemed to keep moving farther away from him.

  Eric found his mind wandering. He thought about home of all things. At least, the only place he ever called home: Bryer. The days would fly by when he worked the forge, then hammered away on red-hot iron. He was good at what he did. There was no reason to ever believe those days would end.

  He could recall running around with Jacob. They had been two mischievous kids up to no good, hiding under wagon wheels, waiting for an unsuspecting pair of shoes to stop within reach. A quick tug and tie would leave the unsuspecting soul with shoes knotted together. The two boys would roll out from under the wagon and run down the street laughing, their pursuer hopping after them. Under the drooping blue hood, a smile formed on Eric’s face—a strange look for someone walking in a desert lightning storm in the middle of nowhere.

  But then, his thoughts darkened. He dug deeper into a life that was never really his. He began recalling old memories long forgotten—someone else’s memories.

  Son, I said do it again. Your swordsmanship cannot be average. It must be magnificent.

  “I’m not your son, Corelle Nenkara,” Eric growled, hood draped low over his face while he walked.