The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow

by Jason McWhirter

  “Yes,” Jonas whispered. “It does.” Jonas looked into his father’s eyes and saw himself reflected there. This was his father, he thought. He had longed to meet him and he was now standing in front of him, offering him something that he had wanted his entire life. His sword tips lowered even further as Jonas looked at his father. He took in every aspect of his face. It was indeed him. He could see his own resemblance looking back at him. Before he didn’t care if he died, but now, he felt different. The thought of living a life with his father filled his mind, replacing his resignation with hope.

  His mind began to drift as he thought about what his life could have been like if his father had not been taken away. He would have been protected. He and his mother would not have had to struggle to survive on their own, as his father was a great hunter. They would have had plenty of food. His mother would have been loved and taken care of. The townsfolk would not have scorned them because his father would have been there to protect them from the insults and pain. Everything would have been different.

  “Just grab my hand, son. I will take you away from all this,” the man said as he lifted his hand towards Jonas.

  Jonas, in a daze, dropped one of his swords and slowly raised his hand. Their fingertips were almost touching when there was a flash of green light as an arrow slammed into the man’s hand, knocking him off balance and sending him spinning away from Jonas.

  Jonas snapped out of his trance just in time to see a huge hand capped with wicked black talons snake out of the darkness and strike him hard in the chest. His armor deflected most of the attack, but the impact alone cracked ribs and sent him sprawling to his back.

  Jonas reacted quickly, jabbing upward with his one remaining blade just as a huge clawed foot was descending to crush him. The demon howled as Jonas’s sword skewered it dead center, causing the demon to jump backwards off of the sharp blade. Jonas scrambled for his dropped sword just as a shining spearhead exploded from the demon’s chest, spraying black blood into the air before the beast vanished in a puff.

  Jonas didn’t have time to savor his luck as more black winged monsters were on him in seconds. But he did get a glimpse of two warriors running to join him, and he wondered if they, too, were figments of his imagination.

  Allindrian had decided to take out the man in front of Jonas first. At least she hoped it was Jonas. The scene below them was very strange. A man resembling Jonas was ringed in by a two hand count of those same winged demons. Another monster near Jonas looked eager to tear him apart. The part that didn’t seem to fit was the man standing next to Jonas. They were conversing, but it was too far away to hear their words. Something the man said had caused Jonas to drop a blade, which seemed odd to Allindrian. Also, as soon as he did, the demons surrounding him stepped a bit closer. It was subtle, but it appeared to Allindrian that they were getting ready to attack him.

  But just to make sure, Allindrian put the first arrow into the man’s hand. Instantly she knew he was foe, not friend. The man’s head whipped around and red glowing eyes found her instantly.

  “Save him!” Allindrian screamed as she followed her shot with two more arrows in quick succession.

  But Fil and Kiln did not need her urging for they were already storming down the gentle hill to the flat open field below.

  Jonas felt an icy pain slash across his arm as sharp talons raked him. But he managed to spin violently, ripping open the monster’s throat with one sword, while deflecting another series of attacks from a second beast. Then he felt a solid strike to his back that knocked the wind from him and launched him straight into a demon in front him. Luckily, Jonas had enough sense to angle his blades point first as he crashed into the creature, piercing its chest and bursting through its back as they both tumbled to the ground in a heap.

  Jonas felt severe pain in his chest, and his breathing was becoming difficult. He hastily worked to untangle himself from the dead demon, but sharp pain lanced through his body, making the task difficult. As he struggled to free himself, the demon disintegrated, melting away and leaving Jonas alone and in pain. He had broken a rib or two and he felt a stabbing pain everytime he took a breath.

  Suddenly two legs covered in glowing armor stood above him. But they were not there long as the man pivoted and spun, his blade of gold light keeping the hoarding monsters at bay. Jonas recognized the movements. He shook his head and tried to stand, but the best he could do was get up on one knee.

  Then a second warrior joined them, but this one wore armor of silver and carried a short sword and shield. A demon was about to pounce on Jonas when the warrior slammed the beast in the side with his shield. The power of the blow sent the beast stumbling and the man hamstringed it quickly with two quick cuts to its legs. The demon fell to the ground and the warrior rammed his blade into the back of the monster’s neck.

  This man, too, looked familiar to Jonas. Why were they helping him? He searched deep for the memories as he stood on wobbly feet, one hand holding his ribs, as if that would cause the pain to go away.

  Meanwhile, the two warriors fought on, protecting Jonas as they moved around him, forming an impregnable wall of will and sharp steel.

  Both of Allindrian’s arrows had struck the man, or whatever he was, in the chest. He stumbled backwards, screaming in anger, but his scream ended abruptly as he vanished into the same strange mist before he could hit the ground. In the blink of an eye she was racing down the hillock towards her fighting friends.

  Once Allindrian had joined them, she put her deadly whistling blade into play, destroying the remaining demons within moments.

  Jonas was on one knee, struggling to breath, as the trio turned and approached him. “Who are you?” he said through gritted teeth.

  Fil looked at Kiln and Allindrian with concern. Kiln stepped a bit closer. “You don’t remember us?” he asked.

  Jonas looked confused. “I know I should…I mean you all seem so familiar,” he said through struggling breaths.

  “Jonas, are you hurt?” Allindrian asked.

  “My chest hurts. I can’t breathe very well. I think I broke some ribs.”

  “Jonas, I am your friend. Do you remember me? I knew your mother. We grew up in Manson. You lived in a small stone cottage about a mile out of town,” Fil said, trying to get Jonas to remember.

  Then howls shattered their conversation and everyone tensed.

  “Jonas,” Kiln said quickly, “I am Kiln. I trained you. And this is Allindrian, a Blade Singer from the elven forest of Aur-urien. We have come to bring you back, to free you from this prison.”

  “You can do that?” Jonas asked. There was hope there, and Fil capitalized on it.

  “Jonas, you were a cripple when our town was destroyed by boargs. You and I survived together in the mountains. You are my best friend,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

  “We have to hurry!” Allindrian interrupted, “More are coming,” she said as she nocked an arrow.

  “I think I remember. I was healed, right?”

  “Yes, you were. Jonas, we must leave this place. More demons will be upon us,” Fil said frantically. His words were followed by more screeches in the night.

  “How can we leave?” Jonas asked.

  Fil produced the amulet and held it out to Jonas. “All you need to do is touch this.”

  “That is it?”

  Kiln and Allindrian moved closer to Fil, placing their hands on his shoulder. Then they heard it. The flapping of wings and the high pitched screeches and howls were nearly upon them.

  “Jonas, hurry, touch the amulet!” Fil yelled.

  Jonas reached out and hesitated, his eyes moving back and forth between the three, struggling to remember.

  “Jonas! You were hiding in the fireplace when your mother was killed trying to protect you! I found you! We survived together! Now grab the amulet!”

  Fil’s words had triggered something in Jonas’s memory. He reached up and touched the amulet, and the last thing they saw was a bright fla
sh.

  Four

  Back from the Dead

  Light slowly filtered through a dark haze as Jonas opened his eyes for the first time in several weeks. He was momentarily blinded by the brightness, but gentle hands on his arm comforted him. He began to see shapes around him as his eyes adjusted to his new surroundings.

  “Jonas, are you okay?” a concerned voice fought through the fog.

  It was Fil.

  Finally he was able to see more clearly, his bed surrounded by many faces, most he recognized, but a few he did not.

  Fil, Kiln, Allindrian, and King Baylin Gavinsteal were standing around him looking anxious, and on the other side of his bed were three elves that Jonas had never met before. He felt strangely numb and his mind was a jumble of images as he struggled to remember what had happened.

  “How do you feel?” Allindrian asked.

  “Hungry, but good I guess. I feel like I’ve been in a long nightmare.”

  “You were,” Kiln said, smiling.

  The group was momentarily silent as they solemnly realized the length of time Jonas had remained lost to them, as well as to himself, and was thus unaware of all that had transpired after his friends had left Cuthaine

  “Bring in some food,” the king ordered to several servants standing by the door. “Jonas, I would like you to meet three Ekahals from Mel’un-Riam. They are emissaries from the elven kingdom who have come to help us combat Malbeck. It is they who have saved you. They have brought you back from Dykreel’s prison. This is Lor-telliam, Sar-gathos, and Tel-andorsis.” King Baylin introduced them from left to right.

  He looked at the Ekahals. He had never imagined that he would ever meet elven wizards, for it was rare for them to leave their forest kingdoms far to the northwest. Jonas addressed his fair skinned benefactors, nodding his thanks. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am, not only for your help in saving me, but also for your pledge to aid in the defense of Finarth. But I must be honest, I do not know exactly what has happened. My memories are so elusive and fragmented. Just when I think I have found one, it dissolves into shadow and mist. What has happened?” Jonas asked, directing the question to everyone.

  Fil noticed that everyone in the room seemed to be looking at him expectantly, sending a silent message to tell the story. So he took a deep breath and began to tell the tale, beginning with Jonas’s capture.

  As Fil began his story, food was brought in and Jonas was helped into a sitting position. The aroma of the rich stew and fresh bread and butter caused Jonas to salivate as he suddenly realized how famished he was. He began to eat heartily as Fil continued.

  “Jonas, the Dykreel clerics broke your legs at the knees, and your arms at the elbows. It was horrible.”

  “I remember now,” Jonas said between bites, “Did they make me fight?” Jonas vaguely remembered something like an arena as he chewed thoughtfully on a piece of stew soaked bread.

  Suddenly Jonas froze as a rush of memories came back to him. Fil glanced nervously at Allindrian, who also looked worried. She was the only one in the room who had been present that terrible night, and the memories of it made her shudder. She knew it would be devastating for Jonas if he recalled those events.

  “Jonas, it was not your fault. No one could have withstood their power,” Allindrian said as she touched Jonas’s shaking arm.

  Jonas swallowed his food and looked at her, his eyes filled with anguish. “I killed those men. I remember. I killed anyone they put into the arena…I tried to kill….you,” he moaned as visions of that terrible night assaulted him. “Is that why Shyann has deserted me?” Jonas asked, the intense despair in his voice permeating the room and those within it.

  “Jonas,” Lor-telliam spoke for the first time. “Embedded within your chest is Dykreel’s barbed halo, a symbol of evil permeating your very being. It was that symbol which controlled you. It was Dykreel’s power that compelled you to fight, that enabled you to stand on broken legs, that forced you to subdue the very essence of who you were. You could not have fought it. No one could have. The fact that it did not immediately consume you is beyond me. The power of your ‘self’ is what kept you alive long enough for us to save you. Do not blame yourself for actions that were not your own.

  “Besides,” Allindrian offered, “the men that fought you did so by their own choice. No one made them fight. It was an underground arena where men fought for sport, for money. You were the main attraction and those clerics probably offered a lot of gold to anyone brave enough to fight you. You did not kill those men. Dykreel and their greed did.”

  Jonas relaxed only a little at their words, recalling the pain and horror of Dykreel’s symbol being implanted in his chest. He could not shake the ominous feeling as his mind found the faces of the men he had killed. He sighed and pushed the last of the soup away, no longer hungry, and looked at Fil again. “Go ahead, Fil,” he said with resignation, “Tell me the rest.”

  So Fil continued with the story until he got to the part where they arrived at Finarth. He wasn’t sure how to start that part as he himself was still processing what had happened to them. How could he explain where they had gone to find Jonas? It seemed so real that Fil swore he could still smell the place.

  “How are King Kromm and his family?” Jonas asked.

  “They are well,” King Baylin answered. “I’m sure the king will want to see you once you have rested.” No one ventured to tell Jonas what they had learned regarding the riddle, and that the ‘Ishmian with Finarthian blood’ was none other than Prince Riker. They figured that could wait.

  “How is Myrell, can I see her soon?” Jonas asked. There was a brief, uncomfortable silence as his friends averted their eyes. Jonas suddenly did not want the answer to his question. “Tell me, Fil. What happened?” Jonas saw the expressions on his friend’s faces and he felt a lump rise in his throat.

  “Jonas, she did not make it. Neither did Kilius. They both died during the fight in the streets of Cuthaine. I’m sorry,” Fil said lamely as his friend hung his head and stared at his hands.

  After a few minutes Jonas finally spoke, his voice beginning to break, “I was not there to protect her. Everyone dies around me. I don’t know if I can continue this fight,” he said through his sobs as he looked up at his friends, his voice barely a whisper. His tear streaked face looked young and vulnerable.

  Kiln placed his calloused hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my friend. No matter what you think and how you feel, your mission was a success. You got the king and his family here despite the terrible forces that fought against you. By all accounts you should not be alive.”

  “Jonas,” Fil said earnestly, “If it hadn’t been for you, Myrell and Killius, along with their entire village, would either be dead or forced into slavery. You gave them a choice; I remember, I was there. They chose to come with you. And it was their choice to stand up and fight. You didn’t kill them, Malbeck did, and soon his army will be here. We need you, my friend.”

  Jonas sighed as he fought to control his despair.

  Lor-telliam then spoke up, “Young warrior, your sorrow for your friends is understandable, and reveals your noble character and strength of heart. This is a good sign as it confirms that Dykreel’s black stain has retreated fully into the talisman in your chest.”

  “You mean it is still inside me? Why can’t you take it out?” Jonas asked, the hint of panic creeping into his voice.

  “I’m sorry, but we cannot. It would kill you,” Sar-gathos said. “In fact, we believe this to be the reason that your goddess, Shyann, was not able to heal you herself. Jonas, the healing we performed on you was not just magical, it was physical as well. Look at your chest.”

  Jonas looked down and noticed for the first time a light cream colored cloth draped over his chest like a bandage. It was secured with several strips of cotton wrapped around his body. With Fil’s help they easily removed the strips and Jonas slid the cloth off his chest.

  He stared with wide eyes at a silver c
ircle, about the size of a child’s fist, embedded in his chest, right in the trunk of the oak tree that made up his God Mark. In the center of the circle was a blue stone that swirled with blue and white patterns. Jonas’s flesh had fused with the silver, drawing it into his skin as if it welcomed it. The edges of his skin where it had been cut were slightly raised and swollen, dusted with remnants of dried blood. They had indeed performed surgery on him while he was unconscious.

  “What is that?” Jonas asked, clearly concerned.

  “That is an Al’dun-mera, or a stone of power,” Lor-telliam answered. “They are very rare stones, believed to have dropped from the sky, and few can be found in the realms. They have the ability to hold a tremendous amount of power. We embedded this talisman into the barbed halo. Once we magically sealed the Forsworn’s power into Dykreel’s symbol, we sealed it shut with this talisman. It was very difficult, as it took two of us to contain the power, while Sar-gathos embedded the device in you. The spells imbued into the stone are containment spells, and they will forever keep Dykreel’s magic at bay. We also removed Dykreel’s symbol from your forehead, and you no longer have a scar there.”

  “I do not feel her anymore,” Jonas whispered softly as he ran his fingers over the edges of the pink scar. When he touched the stone he noticed it felt warm to the touch.

  “Jonas,” Lor-telliam continued, “we were able to contain the black magic of Dykreel, but there may be unknown side effects. It is possible that the link you shared with Shyann is forever broken because of the symbol that rests in your chest. The containment magic acts as a shield, and as it shields you from Dykreel’s magic, it may also shield you from Shyann’s. We do not know for sure, but it is a logical assumption.”

  “Thank you all for your help. I apologize for not appearing more grateful. I feel a bit overwhelmed by everything and weighed down emotionally by our losses. But I am truly grateful nonetheless,” Jonas addressed the three Ekahals. He looked down again and traced the edges of the Al’dun-mera. “You have given me a great gift. I will not squander it.”