Journey to Queyon: The Innocence Cycle, Book 3

by J D Abbas

  The Ilqazar surged forward with a thundering roar, making their way up the mountain. Light pulsated, not just in their leader, but in every one of the stallions. With each stride, it increased until, in the blur of the brilliance, it looked as if the Ilqazar had risen onto their hind legs and were standing upright, wielding shimmering swords in hands that had replaced hooves. With a mighty clash, they met the onslaught of the rock creatures, who were no match for the ancient equines. Bits of rock flew in every direction as the Ilqazar plowed through creature after creature.

  Frantic shouts and cries of agony rose from the south, pulling Celdorn’s attention in the opposite direction. Elbrion grabbed Celdorn’s arm and pulled him onto Drendil’s back. They galloped toward the source of the commotion, followed by Zarandiel, Tobil, Silvandir, and the others.

  They arrived to find the rearguard battling with Zakad. The field was already littered with carcasses and corpses while more Zakad continued to appear out of nowhere. Hundreds of them were pressing in on the Guardians, who fought back with ferocity, lopping off head after head of the vile creatures.

  With a roar, Silvandir launched from his horse and threw himself into the midst of the Zakad, no doubt recalling all the damage they had done to him in Rhamal, nearly ending his life. With sword in one hand and dagger in the other, he butchered every beast in his path.

  Keymar quickly joined Silvandir in the slaughter. He plowed through the ranks of the half-human beasts, shouting his brothers’ names with each slash of his weapons, almost ecstatic as Zakad blood spewed on the ground.

  Celdorn and Elbrion surveyed the situation from atop Drendil. Even as the carcasses collected on the ground, the unrelenting half-human creatures continued to attack, climbing over their kinsmen for the opportunity to sink their teeth into an unguarded throat or mutilate a recoiling limb.

  Celdorn turned to the forefront of the battle where the Ilqazar continued their dogged attack on the rock creatures. They were progressively pushing them back, forging the way toward the pass. In doing so, however, the Guardians lost their flank guard. Celdorn studied the plains. To the east, the children and their Guardians had just started to move out, their formation in disarray. They were miles away from both the Ilqazar and the rearguard, isolated and vulnerable. Looking back to the south, the Zakad had already surrounded the rearguard on three sides.

  “They’re drawing us back in order to cut us off from the Ilqazar and the children,” Celdorn realized with a sickening twist in his belly. “To the fore! To the fore!” he yelled to his company.

  Drendil turned on his heel and headed northeast to intersect with the children, followed straightaway by Celdorn’s inner circle.

  ~

  Silvandir and Keymar, heaving and bloodied, retreated in obedience though Silvandir would have preferred to stay and satisfy his insatiable hunger for vengeance.

  The gap was narrowing as the Zakad attempted to close their ranks around the Guardians. The Ilqazar didn’t hesitate as they encountered the wolven creatures, trampling over the ones bold enough to stand in their way. The Guardians lopped off heads right and left as they progressed. Fur and viscera flew in every direction, and yet the onslaught was relentless; like ants pouring forth from an anthill that has been kicked over, they kept coming.

  A Zakad, wielding a large blade, stood unflinchingly in front of Silvandir even as Windam’s mighty hooves trampled him to death. The stallion forged ahead, but after making it to the shelter of the other company, Windam stumbled and collapsed onto his knees. Silvandir leapt from his back just before he rolled, not realizing until that moment that Windam had been injured.

  When Silvandir examined the wound, he let out a roar of pain. The blade had sliced deeply into the tissue of the stallion’s belly, nearly eviscerating him. There was no way he could survive.

  Oh ‘El, not him too. You’ve already taken my wife and my child, nearly destroyed my best friend. Now you take my stallion, my friend. Why not take me as well? I have nothing left here.

  When no lightning struck him and no fissure opened to swallow him, Silvandir blew out a breath, sat on the ground, and lifted Windam’s head into his lap. He stroked the stallion’s sleek neck, wishing he had Elena’s power to heal. “I’m so sorry, my friend,” Silvandir whispered, his heart too frozen for tears to form. “I rode you too hard. I lost focus because of ...” He couldn’t name her. Windam knew.

  A spasm of pain shook the stallion’s body. When the tremor passed, Windam lifted his head and whinnied loudly, then laid back and gazed up at Silvandir.

  It has been my honor to serve you. I am sorry to leave you when your heart is already so burdened, but Phelaam will bear you well. He turned his gaze toward the stallion that joined them.

  Like Windam, this stallion was massive in stature and solid black, though this one bore no diamond on his forehead.

  Please know and trust that I did not betray you. In time, you will understand. Take heart, my faithful friend. Windam nickered softly. We will meet again. With that, the stallion’s eyes closed and his body went limp as his energy moved on. To where, Silvandir didn’t know or understand, nor did he care.

  Silvandir clung to the stallion’s neck, not ready to let him go. He had no idea how long he sat there. Time had lost all meaning. When finally he rose, it was with a consuming fire in his belly and glacial ice in his heart.

  Phelaam approached him and leaned his forehead into Silvandir’s. An energy passed between them, stinging his face. Silvandir jerked back, rubbing his forehead, and glared at Phelaam. “What was that?”

  I do not know, but I felt it as well.

  Silvandir smoothed his beard, which had been bristled by the jolt, not sure he believed the stallion.

  It would be my honor to serve you, Silvandir, if you will have me. I know that you have been with Windam since the beginning of your training and it is a grievous loss. I will do my best to bear you as faithfully as he. The stallion lowered his head.

  “Thank you.” Further words disappeared into some unfathomable abyss.

  Silvandir removed his tack from Windam and strapped it onto his new steed. Pulling a blanket from the saddlebag, he covered the remains of his friend, tenderly stroking his neck one last time before laying it over his head.

  With a final glance at Windam, he mounted Phelaam and rode off to rejoin Celdorn. Hatred burned holes in his belly, demanding vengeance, ready to find those responsible for the deaths of his loved ones and eliminate them—or die trying.

  Chapter 55

  By the time Celdorn’s company gathered the children and herded them toward the mountain, some of the Ilqazar had returned to provide a flank guard. One immediately broke formation and galloped toward him.

  Celdorn’s lips curled into a weak grin. He slid from Drendil’s back and stepped forward to meet Malak, who leaned his forehead into Celdorn’s.

  “You are a welcome sight, my friend.” Celdorn buried his face in the stallion’s neck.

  You should have called for me, my lord. I would have come to your aid, Silvandir relayed.

  “There was no time.” He stepped back and caressed Malak’s sleek neck. “But you are here now, for which I am grateful.”

  Celdorn mounted and surveyed the situation. From the incline, he could see across the vast prairie filled with masses of Zakad, who continued to attack the rearguard. Ilqazar raced to join in the battle, slowly encircling the men.

  Then Celdorn turned his gaze to the heights, where Zhalor was leading a victorious, though mystifying, battle against the strange rock creatures. They were falling steadily before the might of the Ilqazar, crumbling into piles of rocks like those from which they arose.

  Within a few hours, the last of the stone creatures was destroyed, and Zhalor’s ranks returned to join Celdorn and his men. The Ilqazar had now completely surrounded the Guardians, but the Zakad refused to cease their press. Though unwilling to attack riderless Ilqazar, the Zakad were working to find a way to breach their lines.

 
Satisfied that his men were safe, Celdorn focused on establishing a place for the injured to be tended, most of whom had suffered torn limbs or vicious bites to the neck.

  Upon spotting Celdorn, Zhalor moved to join him. The Morgot have been dealt with, Lord Celdorn, Zhalor reported through Silvandir, who begrudgingly joined them to translate. With his fists clenching and unclenching and his jaw locked tight, he was doing little to hide his animosity toward Zhalor. The Zakad, however, are not likely to abandon their pursuit. We could continue over the pass with my stallions at the rear, but I sense enemies ahead as well.

  Celdorn eyed the stallion. Enemies of whom? he wondered but did not say aloud. His trust in the Ilqazar was fractured. They had battled with the Morgot—Zhalor’s name for the rock creatures—and were protecting the Guardians from the Zakad, but they had betrayed Elena. A horrible ache grabbed his heart just thinking her name. He turned his thoughts, unable to deal with that grief now.

  Zhalor interrupted his silence. You do not trust me. Yet you have little choice.

  “Precisely.” Celdorn kept his voice even.

  Silvandir stumbled in relaying Zhalor’s message. With ice in his gaze, breath coming in huffs, the young Guardian glared at the prince of the Ilqazar. Finally, he passed on the words to Celdorn through gritted teeth, his tone flat and hollow. I will not defend our decision except to tell you that Nakhona did what she had to do to save us all, including you.

  Too enraged to respond, Celdorn gripped Elbrion’s shoulder.

  With a tight nod, Elbrion continued the conversation. “The Ilqazar know more about the Zakad than anyone else on Qabara. How many more exist?”

  The stallion shook his head and nickered. I do not know, but they have been amassing at an alarming rate. Though they have not been seen in this region for over a century, I suspect they have been reproducing in Penumbra all this time.

  A charged silence followed as the group gazed out over the prairie.

  Elbrion nudged Celdorn and pointed, his brow furrowed. Off in the distance, a cloud moved toward them from the south, traveling at a rapid rate and contrary to the wind.

  Celdorn studied the dark mass. “Crows again?” The hair on the back of his neck bristled. A sudden, gripping fear propelled him into action. “Move the injured into the shelter of the rocks.” He grabbed a man near him and dragged him to a protected spot. “Move! Move!”

  Men scrambled at the urgency in Celdorn’s voice, wrapping the wounded and carrying them to any place that offered cover. In rock clefts, Guardians shielded the children with their own bodies.

  Over the middle of the prairie, long before they reached the Guardians, the flock of birds dispersed. Thousands of crows flew in every direction. The whoosh of their wings caught the attention of the Zakad, who stood transfixed as the birds began lighting on the rocks at the edges of the field.

  From their hiding places, the men watched with dread as the boulders beneath the birds moaned and quaked. Bulging and throbbing, they swelled until nearly tripled in size. Shale-covered eyelids lifted, exposing pallid, bulbous eyes which glanced right and left even as cavernous mouths yawned into place beneath them. The creatures’ chests expanded with breath while wizened arms and legs extended from their torsos, stretching out until granite fists and boots emerged. There must have been a thousand or more of the stone giants rising to their feet around the perimeter of the prairie, completely encircling it.

  A hush fell over the fields and foothills; even the earth itself seemed to be holding its breath. The creatures straightened their hunched backs and lifted their grizzled eyes toward the sky. As the sun started to set, billowing clouds rolled in, spreading a gorgeous palette of colors across the ominous scene.

  Then, as the sun slid behind the horizon and as if on cue, the creatures raised their gnarly hands and, in unison, clapped them with such force the earth and even the very air itself shook with the reverberations.

  The Zakad cowered in the fields. The Guardians dropped to their knees, whispered prayers for mercy on their lips. The Ilqazar alone stood their ground, unaffected.

  The granite figures struck their deformed hands again. This time, the air crackled and fire burst in their flinty palms. They lowered their grizzly appendages and placed them at the edges of the prairie grass, setting the fields ablaze. A copper ring encircled the massive plains, countering the deepening black of the night. The air grew thick with the yowls of Zakad and the stench of charred fur as the flames moved toward the center of the prairie, trapping the numberless enemy and devouring them one by one.

  If a wayward flame flicked toward the foothills, a stony foot snuffed it out. When a Zakad managed to break through the ring of fire, a granite fist immediately snatched it up and threw it back into the field to meet its end.

  The consuming fire burned mercilessly throughout the night. When the sun peeked timidly over the eastern slopes the following morning, there was nothing remaining on the prairie but ash. The stone creatures and the birds and, more importantly, the Zakad were no more.

  Only an ominous silence hung in the air.

  ~

  From his benumbed state of grief, Celdorn took in the view. Astonished. Confused. Humbled. He stared at the vacant fields that had screamed hopelessness to him the evening before.

  “Why would the Morgot attack us on the one hand and then defend us on the other?” he asked Elbrion. “That makes no sense.”

  Zhalor stepped forward. The creatures in the field were not Morgot, Silvandir quietly translated from the other side of Celdorn.

  Celdorn turned to the stallion, still fuming from yesterday’s betrayal but intrigued by the comment.

  Do you recall Roth Rock?

  Understanding hit Celdorn. “The creatures we saw at the stone table, the ones the star awakened...” His voice faded as his thoughts turned a thousand directions.

  Yes. No doubt she was preparing them, calling them into service.

  “She, whom you trusted and of whom we know next to nothing, she was responsible for this?” Celdorn frowned and shook his head. “I’m confused. You’re saying then that there are good rock creatures and bad rock creatures, and these were the good ones because the star prepared them?” He couldn’t keep the bitter antagonism from his words.

  Zhalor studied him. Distrust seemed to be moving both ways. Neither are rock creatures, as you call them, Silvandir relayed as the stallion flicked his tail. There are forces in this world that can inhabit different elements of nature, be they rocks, trees, or even birds. Some of these forces serve the Jhadhela; some do not.

  “And which was Nakhona serving?” Mikaelin interrupted, making no attempt to hide the contempt in his voice, though his mask cloaked his expression.

  Zhalor’s ears flattened. You speak against that which you cannot possibly understand, he replied through an equally distrusting interpreter. Sometimes there is a higher good that must be considered and obeyed.

  “I don’t know or care about your higher good. What I know is you vowed to serve Elena and protect her. All the Ilqazar”—Mikaelin gave a broad sweep of his functioning arm—“promised to protect her. Her own steed vowed to serve her, and yet everyone one of you participated in giving her over to Anakh. She believed you. She trusted you. We all foolishly trusted you, and now she’s gone. You heard her final pleas, didn’t you?” he demanded. “They filled the air. And you ignored them.” Mikaelin spat on the ground and stormed away.

  Zhalor’s head lowered. You cannot possibly understand, he repeated. Then, he too turned and trotted away.

  Elbrion came alongside Celdorn and laid his hand on his shoulder. Silvandir slipped out of sight. Haldor stood gazing at the summit, his face aglow in spite of tears that streamed down his cheeks.

  Dalgo and Braiden emerged from one of the caves and approached Celdorn.

  “We’ve done the best we’re able with the injuries. The sooner we get them to Queyon the better,” Dalgo said.

  “What’s the point of continuing to Queyon?” Cel
dorn asked, his eyes and body weighted with grief. “I do not know if I have the heart to cross the summit and enter there without her.”

  “These men need more care than we can give them on the road, my friend,” Dalgo replied in a hush of a voice, laying his hand on Celdorn’s shoulder.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “I suppose Kelach would feel just as empty, if not more so.”

  “We could go to Marach and avoid Queyon for now,” Zarandiel offered, in an effort to ease the situation for Celdorn.

  Haldor ripped himself from his reverie. “No! We must go directly to Queyon.”

  Celdorn turned and studied him. “What is it?” he asked, noting the urgency in Haldor’s tone.

  Haldor turned his eyes back to the summit. “I cannot explain.” His voice grew wispy, ethereal. “I just know that we must move as quickly as possible to Queyon.” He was quiet for a time as he studied the horizon. “I sense something or someone summoning us. There is an elusive cry...” His voice trailed off to a whisper as tears slid from his eyes once again.

  ~

  By noon, the injured were prepared to travel. Most were able to mount and ride. Five had wounds severe enough to confine them to the carts. Two did not survive the morning.

  Among the children, Waadar was the only casualty, and his condition was unrelated to the Zakad. He remained unconscious, his heartbeat and breathing suppressed. Charaq and Mishon chose to ride with him in a wagon.

  The Guardians did a quick tribute to the fallen and burned the remains, deepening the morose mood among them.

  Celdorn, with Silvandir reluctantly in tow, approached Zhalor before they resumed their journey. “You and the riderless Ilqazar are freed from your vows,” he stated in a flat tone. “If you choose to continue to Queyon, you will follow us through the pass. You are not to hinder or impede us in any way. After reaching Queyon, all the Ilqazar will be freed from their vows. Are we clear?”