The Sleeping King

by Cindy Dees

  She spoke quickly as the hideous creatures around them became fully corporeal and solid, snarling and snapping as Will flailed at them with his staff. “Not only do we have to believe this will work, we have to have faith. Hope. Reach deep inside yourself and know in your bones that everything will turn out all right. After all, we’ve made it this far. Right?”

  “Right,” he grunted as he fought off the claws and snapping jaws closed in on them from all sides.

  “We’ve got this,” she encouraged him. “Let’s just try the leap one more time.”

  CHAPTER

  31

  Anton screamed in fury as the trees came alive, branches whipping, and vine creatures began to writhe around them. Now the forest itself helped guard the Boki treasure? Its worth must be beyond compare! Furthermore, he must be almost upon it.

  Another cursed wave of Boki charged over the ridge ahead. Would they never stop coming? But then he spied the composition of the charge. Female orcs. Old orcs if their heavily scarred hides and faded coloring was an indication of age. And half-grown orcs. Their women and children had been hiding beyond that ridge all this time? And they chose to engage now? His eyes narrowed as he stared at the charging Boki. They were not brilliant military tacticians. But they might send out a charge in a last-ditch effort to destroy him as his men approached that ridge.

  Abruptly it was imperative that he see what lay beyond the hill. For surely that must be the spot where the treasure was hidden. This vale must have been the anteroom to the actual treasure chamber, obviously. But now that the Boki force was losing, they made a desperate charge with the last defenders. Oh yes. He must get over that ridge right away.

  Krugar yelled for his men to fall back and take up a defensive formation, but Anton shouted to belay that order and bellowed for his men to charge.

  The orcs had moved together in front of him, shoulder to green shoulder in a veritable wall of living rage. But he could meet rage with rage, by the stars.

  How dare they turn on him like this? Where was the Ki’ with whom he had his arrangement? The Boki were supposed to put up token resistance out here. To retreat from this battle and then invade the outlying holdings of his most irritating landsgraves in a few weeks! Of course, he had neglected to mention his own plan to loot the Boki treasure horde in the process. But still. They’d had a cursed deal! No surprise the green whoreson was absent, the traitorous cur.

  If he couldn’t find the Ki’, how was he supposed to get the supplies he needed to make what the assassin, Kane, required to finish off his greatest enemy? Nothing was going as it was supposed to out here. And that would not do. It was time to change the rules of the game.

  He was within a single arrow’s flight of perhaps the greatest acquisition of his life, and no orc army was stopping him, curse it. He swore viciously under his breath. He would kill every last one of them himself if he had to.

  “My chest of globes!” he yelled. He was not a master alchemist for nothing. If they wished to taste of gaseous death, so be it. A soldier ran up to him with the wooden chest and its rows of carefully padded glass globes within. Enraged, he stormed forward, globes filled with expensive and rare death gas poison dancing in his fingers.

  * * *

  “Here goes nothing,” Will muttered resolutely. He stopped swinging his staff and let down his defenses entirely. Hope. Faith. He could do this.

  He closed his eyes and imagined himself flying up the cliff face like a giant hawk. And jumped as hard as he could.

  A yank at the back of his tunic snapped his eyes open. The crowd of dark creatures had fallen away beneath his feet, howling in outrage. The cliff face was soaring past and he looked down in shock as he realized he no longer stood on the firm ground. What on Urth? Or rather, not on Urth? He looked up and saw the white-feathered belly of a massive bird. He craned his head to see more and spied the short, hooked beak of a falcon.

  A quick glance to the side revealed Raina’s clothing firmly clutched in the talons of a giant white falcon as well. A look of wonderment filled her face as she smiled over at Will. For all he knew, the birds were going to fly them well above the ground and drop them to their deaths. But at this point, there was not a thing he could do about it. He took his cue from Raina and looked around, determined to enjoy the flight before dying.

  How many times in his life he’d enviously watched birds soar through the skies he could not count. Everything looked different from here. Smaller. Less important. But at the same time, the wider world seemed grander. Limitless.

  How long the flight lasted he could not say. But he memorized every second of it to remember in his old age … if he managed to survive. The top of the cliff slid past his feet, and a thick carpet of green stretched ahead of them on this new plateau. If possible, it was even more lush and verdant than below the cliff.

  His falcon folded its wings all of a sudden and dived for the trees like an arrow, but ten times faster. It was terrifying and exhilarating seeing the ground fly up at dizzying speed. Wind tore through his hair and made his eyes water, and he’d never even imagined moving so fast, let alone ever hoped to experience such a rush.

  At the last possible second before slamming into the ground the falcon threw out its wings and back-flapped with a furious motion. The talons at his back released and Will fell. He had just long enough to brace for a horrible splat before his feet hit the ground. He landed in a deep-kneed crouch, and Raina did the same beside him.

  Alive. They were still alive. Raina gasped beside him as if that happy circumstance surprised her, too.

  He looked around at where the birds had chosen to deposit them. It was a grove. The most beautiful grove Will had ever seen, in fact. More so even than the dryads’ grove. The grass was a perfect carpet of emerald, with patches of wildflowers nodding here and there, vibrant in their garments of pink and yellow and blue and white. Dappled shade dotted the edges of the glade, although from whence came sunlight to make shade Will had no idea.

  But then a movement caught his eye. It was a man. Standing on the far side of the grove, contemplating a small, brown sparrow as it sat in a tree and serenaded him for all it was worth.

  The man was tall. Broad. Built like a warrior. Fair skinned but dark haired. As he turned his head to stare at them, Will noticed the elven shape to his ears. Not that there was any doubt that the elegant features and noble bearing were anything other than elven.

  “I thought he was supposed to be asleep,” Will muttered.

  “We don’t know if that’s him,” Raina muttered back.

  The elf turned fully to face them. Surprise definitely lit his dark eyes, but he said courteously, “Long has it been since I was graced with new visitors, even longer still since one who does not bear the mark of Zinn came here.”

  Raina bowed her head in the elven way, a show of respect for an elder. Will did the same beside her. After all, his mother hadn’t raised him to be a total barbarian.

  “I am called Raina.”

  The elf cocked one brow and returned their nods regally. The fellow certainly looked like a king. And then that perceptive gaze was aimed at Will. “And you, young sir? Who are you?”

  “Uhh. Will. Will Cobb they call me.”

  “But that is not your true name?” the elf asked sagely. “There is power in a true name. One must be cautious in giving it away to strangers. You are wise to be circumspect.”

  “And you, sir?” Raina asked breathlessly, “Might we inquire as to who you are? We have come a very long way on an arduous journey seeking one such as you.”

  * * *

  Rosana moaned as she sensed yet another spirit hovering nearby seeking resurrection. Sha’Li’s body had finished forming moments ago, and the lizardman girl was just blinking back to consciousness.

  Sha’Li jerked upright to a seated position and Rosana fell back off her heels and rolled onto her back clumsily as she threw herself clear of Sha’Li’s wildly swinging claws.

  “It’s just me, Sha�
�Li,” she complained. “Put those things away.”

  The claws slithered into the lizardman girl’s fists and disappeared from sight. “What hap—” Her face clouded with memory. “Oh. The hydra.”

  “A hydra?” Rosana squawked. How was Will ever going to survive a hydra that could kill tough-skinned Sha’Li? Terror gripped her until she almost could not sense the new spirit. Please, please, let it not be Will.

  Eben, who had already finished resurrecting, passed Sha’Li some clothes from his pack. Not that she needed them particularly with that covering of scales all over her body. Nonetheless, Sha’Li snatched at the garments when Eben held them out to her over his turned shoulder.

  “I sense another spirit,” Rosana announced.

  Eben groaned. “What do you suppose is happening to them in there?”

  Sha’Li answered promptly, “Dying, I expect. Huge was the fire hydra and with ease did it kill me.”

  Rosana restrained the wail climbing her throat and turned to the new spirit, which felt male. Oh no. “Do you wish to be resurrected?” she asked the disembodied spirit aloud.

  A strong affirmative feeling rolled off it.

  She closed her eyes and began the focused concentration of a field resurrection. She could help a spirit find its way back to this realm, guide it in re-forming a body for itself, but she could not restore its skills. Only time and rest would do that.

  Slowly, slowly, the spirit hovering close coalesced a body from the life energy she drew together and offered up to it. The process took nearly a quarter of an hour, but gradually a male body formed. Eben and Sha’li covered it with the lone blanket Eben happened to have in his pack when they fled Anton’s forces so long ago. It felt a lifetime away from this place.

  She worked over the body for a few more minutes and facial features began to form.

  Cicero.

  She sagged in relief that it was not Will, and then guilt assailed her for being glad the kindari had died instead. Like Sha’Li, Cicero woke up fighting. His fists flailed around him, but Rosana was prepared for it this time and knelt well back from him as he revived.

  “And what happened to you?” she asked as soon as the elf was fully in possession of his faculties.

  “Drakken,” the elf bit out.

  Great galloping curses. Will and Raina must surely be dead by now. It was only a matter of time before their spirits showed up here, too. And she was running dangerously low on magical energy to help them.

  * * *

  The elf gestured for them to come closer. As he and Raina trod the short grass, Will restrained an urge to kick off his boots and tickle his toes in it. The beauty of this place was more soothing than a hot bath or his mother’s hugs.

  A great sense of well-being washed over him and he stumbled in shock. After feeling so terrible for so long, he’d forgotten what healthy was like. Stars above, he’d felt awful before. But now … now it was as if a great weight had been lifted off of him. Lightness and vigor surged through his veins and into every corner of his being.

  He followed Raina’s lead and stopped a respectful distance from the elf, who was even taller and more powerful up close. He’d never seen an elf of such proportions. His mother had been slight, light boned. Even Cicero, a warrior among his kind, was shorter than Will and leaner. But this elf made Will feel puny.

  Their host smiled a little, but the expression did not touch his dark, fathomless gaze. “I am but a dream. A memory of one who once was but is no more.”

  “Are you a phantasm, then?” Raina asked in disappointment.

  “No. I am not an elemental of Nod.”

  She replied, “I do not understand. You stand there, and smile, and speak of your own will. How can you be only a memory?”

  “This is the dream plane, child, and this is not my physical body. This is merely a dreaming manifestation of my true self.”

  “What of us? Are we merely dreams, too?”

  Will frowned. He didn’t think he was a dream. He would never have dreamed the monsters they’d faced in this place on his own.

  “Nay, you are here both in body and spirit. You traveled to this realm through physical means, yes?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Will had no great interest in the metaphysical properties of this place. A cure for that which was killing him lay more heavily on his mind. He said a touch impatiently, “We have undertaken a very long, very difficult journey, and several of our friends have died that we might reach this place. Your name, sir. Might we have it?”

  “I am called Gawaine. Gawaine Valshaer.”

  “Do you, by any chance, go by the title of the Sleeping King or the Mythar?”

  “I had not thought of being called the Sleeping King, but I suppose it is possible such a name could have been given to my memory. As for the other, I was called Mythar in my day.”

  Will’s heart leaped. They’d done it! They’d found the Sleeping King! Raina glanced over at him, her expression jubilant.

  Triumph. Relief. Sadness. They all raced through him. Ahh, if only his father had lived to see this day. Mayhap Ty finally would’ve been proud of his son.

  “And why have you come on your long and arduous journey to seek me then, my young visitors?”

  The elf moved to a moss-covered bier about the height and length of a fainting couch and sat down upon it with easy grace. Raina surprised Will by crouching down to run her hand through the cool green blades. She smiled up at their host. “Would you mind if I sat here?”

  Gawaine smiled, the warmth of it reaching deep into his calm gaze. “Not at all. Be at ease in this place. You are safe.”

  Will flopped down beside her and finally did give in to the urge to unlace his boots and kick them off. The greensward was even cooler and softer than he’d expected. He felt young and carefree all of a sudden.

  “I ask again. Why have you come here?” Gawaine’s tone was still pleasant, but Will sensed a bit more steel beneath the question this time as the elf studied them.

  Will looked over at Raina. She was the one skilled with words and pretty speeches. She glanced at him and he nodded at her.

  She spoke carefully. “We have come in search of a legend. A sleeping king who is said to wait in the long sleep of the eternal dreamer to be woken once more.”

  Gawaine’s gaze went closed of a sudden. Not exactly hostile, but cautious. Will thought he heard the elf breathe under his breath, “It is time, then?” But Will wasn’t sure.

  Raina continued, “The Sleeping King is said to be an elf. One who lived long ago and who fell in battle. He was put into a magical sleep of some kind and laid to rest until Urth and its creatures should have need of him once more.”

  Gawaine frowned openly now. “And you have determined that now is the moment? In what way does Urth need this king?”

  Raina searched for words. “A … blight … has come upon the land. It is slowly killing Urth and its people. Those who know of it fear it. They believe that, if it is not stopped soon, Urth will be too far gone to recover.”

  Concerned now, Gawaine asked, “What is the nature of this blight?”

  Raina looked over to Will for help. He gave it a try. “The Kothite Empire stretches across the whole of Urth. They strip the land for its wealth and they unbalance the cycle of life and death.”

  Gawaine shrugged. “With time and care, that is easy enough to repair. Urth is a resilient place and tends to return to balance if left alone.”

  Raina dived in. “Urth’s people have nearly forgotten what freedom means. What hope is. Many do not even know the words. How will balance be restored when they do not remember what it looks like?”

  “Ahh. Now that is a problem,” Gawaine murmured. “And how is this king of yours supposed to set that aright?”

  Will answered, “By leading us to freedom from Koth, of course.”

  Gawaine made no reply to that. He merely stared off into space as if he had not a care in the world.

  Frustrated, Will blurted,
“He’s also supposed to cure me of the poison that is killing me.”

  That got Gawaine’s attention. “What is the source of your poison?”

  Will opened his shirt and the elf king stared in open surprise. “I knew I sensed a familiar spirit. I just could not credit that a fragile human such as you could tolerate so powerful a being. Particularly a malevolent spirit of such magnitude.”

  Malevolent? That explained a great deal. He’d been right to despise Bloodroot, then. To blame him for not helping in key moments. For sickening him and not caring one whit about driving him to the point of exhaustion and even death.

  Will poked at the cursed wooden disk burrowed into his skin. “This malevolent spirit is killing me. Can you remove it?”

  “Young Will. If Lord Bloodroot wished you dead, you would already be dead. In point of fact, for you to have withstood his presence at all Bloodroot must have actively been working to keep you alive. Of course, you undoubtedly have a natural ability to channel magic and an affinity for the Green as well, or even Bloodroot’s efforts would not have saved you.”

  “Nonetheless, can you get rid of this thing?”

  “That sliver of wood is no longer the issue. Even at a glance, I can see that Bloodroot’s spirit is deeply entwined with yours. That is the crux of the matter. The more you drew upon Bloodroot’s power and the more he manifested through you—which I assume you both did, else why would he have attached to you at all?—the more you were exposed to his curse. And the sicker you would have become.”

  “What curse?” Raina interjected.

  “Bloodroot is—was—the embodiment of death and destruction within the Great Circle. Emotions such as hatred, fear, and rage were his tools. He was the dark force that balanced the lighter forces of nature. This is the curse I refer to. A heavy burden indeed for a young human to bear. But what he does here and now I do not know. Clearly, the Great Circle has been broken in my absence.”

  Gawaine sounded deeply distressed at that.

  Raina must also have sensed the elf’s disquiet, for she asked gently, “What was the Great Circle?”