Krin looked at the Shade and said, “Are you sure about this? The Overlords might not be pleased by being awoken from their deep slumber.”
Archimus said nothing as he took one of the torches and walked through the doors.
Krin whispered to himself, “Maybe I’m not sure about this.” With hesitation, Krin decided to follow the Shade through the ancient doors.
The pathway, only illuminated by the faint torches, spiraled downward for what seemed like miles. Archimus felt at home in the dark and dank environment, but Krin did not. The air around them grew colder than being in the presence of the Shade, and Krin began to shiver. The air was also stagnant and old, making it hard for the Captain to breathe. After almost an hour of walking, they came to a section of the path that was destroyed by the Separation. The stairway ended, and revealed a massive fracture in the earth.
“What are we going to do now? There is no way we are going to be able to cross that,” said Krin with worry.
Archimus once again remained silent as he raised his boney hands up and held them open. After a moment of concentration, the fallen shards of rock and stone from the path began to rise from the bottomless fracture. One by one, they returned to their former place, and reformed the ancient pathway. Archimus then lowered his hands and walked across the newly repaired path. Shocked by the Shade’s power, Krin cautiously followed.
They walked for another hour before the path finally opened into a massive space shrouded in darkness. Archimus came to a stop as he looked to his right. He then took his torch and ignited a strong-smelling liquid resting in a stone trough. The liquid combusted into flames, and raced along the long and winding trough. The fire circled the entire space and quickly illuminated the Tomb of the Overlords. Krin noticed another stone trough a few feet higher from the first, and ignited it. The flames once again circled the room from the opposite direction, even further illuminated the space. The tomb is circle in shape, and the walls are lined with many faceless statues. At the center rests two sarcophaguses atop a raised stone platform encased by steps. Many gold and silver treasures littered the ground around the platform. Krin looked on in awe at the grand spectacle. Archimus wasted no time as he set the torch down and began to walk towards the coffins. As he did, he once again raised his hands as the heavy tops began to move to the sides. Once clear of the coffins, the stone covers were released to the ground. They both cracked and crumbled as they hit the stone platform.
Archimus lowered his pale white hands as he turned to face Krin with a look of worry. “What… I am… about to do… will take a great deal of power…, I will… be temporarily… weakened. You will… have to defend… yourself… if… we are attacked. Do… you understand?”
Startled by the Shade’s seldom seen confession of weakness, Krin replied, “I can handle myself. Just do what you came here to do. If our Lord commands it, then I am with you.”
Archimus said nothing as he turned back to face the tombs of the forgotten. He had a look of worry painted on his expressionless face. Several thoughts ran through his possessed soul as he stared at the tombs in which held the lifeless corpses he must now summon from the Gates. Deep in his withered heart, he knew that his time was drawing to an end. Although he did not know her intentions, he can feel the enraged power emulating from the mother of the Jailor he deceived and manipulated. He feels for the first time in six hundred years… fear. He holds power over all the Guardians, the Angels included, but fears the ones that are even more powerful than he is… the original Keepers of Death. Despite his fears of the uncertain future, the Shade Lord is ready for what will come next. He has completed the task that the Dark Lord bestowed upon him all those years ago, and accepts his fate either way. Once his composure was properly attained, Archimus raised his right hand and revealed his deathly scythe.
As he raised the tar covered blade, he said, “As… the… Keeper of Death, I… command… you… to escape the bounds… of hell…, and return… to your… bodies. In… the name… of… Alvane the Feared…, rise!”
Silky black strands of death-possessed tar trickled on the cold metal as they joined together, and fell from the blade. As they hit the ground, they began to conjoin into one mass of darkness and crawled towards the coffins. They split in two just as they reached the stone sarcophaguses and took separate paths. As the black pools of death-reincarnate reached the tombs, they slithered up the sides and poured into them. They spread and covered the corpses of old, wrapped in aged linen. Once the tar completely covered them, they seeped beneath it in an unnatural way, and entered their dried veins. In a matter of moments, the long-dissolved muscles and tendons began to reanimate. The first to twitch in a sign of movement came from the Overlord Zelka. First to move was his hands, as his fingers tightened and clinched into a fist. Bruukar was next as his covered face jerked to the right, causing the old and decomposed cloth to tear. Zelka’s arm then jetted upwards as his creaking knuckles bent so that his petrified fingers could clench the side of his tomb. Bruukar’s torso suddenly sat upright as his hands tried to remember how to move to help aid in his body’s escape from his resting place of a thousand years.
Krin couldn’t help but flinch at the unnatural reanimation occurring in the legendary Overlords. He took a step back as the Overlord Zelka pulled his body upright, and began to tear at the cloth covering his face. Bruukar was also now out of his tomb as his brittle, yet strengthening legs struggled to bare the weight of his withered, yet petrified body.
“Allow… me… to aid you…, my risen… champions,” said Archimus as his scythe dissipated into his soul.
He then walked towards the two fragile Overlords as they struggled to remain on their feet. “Your… awakening… is almost… complete…, but… you… lack one thing… needed… to regain… your former… strength. I… can… imbue you… with unworldly power…, but… for you… to become… strong…, you need… life.”
The Shade then turned to face the frightened Captain as his face grew sour. Krin stared back for a moment as he waited for him to speak. A sudden sensation of cold overcame his body as his skin began to turn white.
“Wait… no, you can’t!” pleaded Krin as he tried to move, but failed to do so. “No, the Generals would not approve of this, you can’t… WAIT… NO!”
Archimus raised his bony and shaking hand as he said, “The… Generals… do not… concern… me, nor… dictate… my actions!”
Krin could do nothing but scream as the Shade began to siphon his life from him. As he did, Archimus raised his other hand behind him and directed it at the Overlords. Krin’s face began to wilt and become tight as dried leather as his screaming bottom jaw stretched down and broke loose, just as the General of Kain’s did in Menethiel. As the Captain’s life entered the Shade’s body, it then spewed out his other hand, and into the Overlords. Once Krin’s body was completely relieved of its life and moisture, his now brittle and sucked dry corpse fell to the ground. The Overlords, however, felt life once more as their bodies began to heal slightly, growing back the muscles and tendons needed to sustain their weight. Archimus then moved his now free hand and began to singe away the linen cloth wrapped around their bodies. What they revealed were beings of half shade, half man. Unlike the other shades released from the Gates, the Overlords had a body for their soul to return to. Their former skin was replaced with a shiny and reflectant black skin, smooth and flawless. Their gleaming bodies were then shrouded in a mystical and flowing black cloak. Archimus also formed strong and steel-like armor that covered their reanimated bodies, including two distinctive black helms, which completely covered their faces save a lean vent at their mouths. Their faces were hidden behind the menacing spiky helms, but their eyes shined bright red like fire beneath a grill. Once their transformation was complete, the two resurrected Overlords stood tall and powerful, ready for whatever command came from the Shade Lord. Archimus spent a large amount of power to bring the Overlords back and craft their new bodies. This caused him to become weak as h
e fell to his knees.
He struggled to control his breath as he looked up at his creations, and said in a quiet and drained voice, “Welcome… back…, great Overlords… of the… Dragonkin. The… time… of war… is upon… you…, prepare… yourselves… to answer… your Lord’s… command…, for… the… Dark Lord… will soon… command… ALL!”
The Overlords crossed their arms over their chests in a salute to their new master, and stayed like that until released by the Shade Lord.
Archimus, still trying to recover his strength, said, “There… is one... last… thing… that must… be done. The… Angel… of… Justice… must… be… stopped… before the… Jailors… side… with her, which… means… that… I must… take… something… that she… loves. When… she… comes… to retrieve… that… which… she holds… most dear…, alone…, then… I… will… BREAK HER!”
CHAPTER 11
MOTHER OF THE TRUEBORNS
It is about an hour or so past sunset in Riverton as Evelyn waits outside the main stables for her son to meet her. She turned around to see Ayden riding towards her on top of his stallion Ronan. As he approaches, he dismounts Ronan and ties him to a nearby hitching post.
“Ah, my youngest child,” said Evelyn as Ayden approached.
He walked over and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek.
“Hello mother, it’s been awhile,” said Ayden.
“Not by my choice, my wayward son,” said Evelyn with a serious, but loving smirk. “Sometimes I feel like you and your brother forget that I am even here. You didn’t even stop to see me as you passed through the city on your way to the capital.”
“Well, in our defense, we have been a little busy, you know, with me being the Captain of the Guard, and my brother being, well, the King, and also having to deal with the small matter of the Dragonkin laying ruin to the capital, which, by the way, is why I couldn’t stop and ‘see’ you on my way to the capital,” said the Captain in a sarcastic tone. “So, forgive me if I haven’t made my way down for tea.”
“You’ve always had a smart mouth,” said Evelyn as she firmly pinched her son’s cheek, “but, I still love you. By the way, what ever happened to the young gelding that I put in your charge? What was his name, you named him after some great Trueborn when he was only days old?”
“His name is Mikey,” replied the Captain, “and he was named after Michael… the first Trueborn stallion born of the White Mare.”
“Yes, Mikey… the unclean,” said Evelyn.
“Don’t call him that mother,” replied Ayden, “he is not unclean. He is just as much of a Trueborn as any of the pure bloods.”
Evelyn snapped back, “His father was a stallion of no name or significance. He defied me as a yearling, and showed no hope of becoming a member of the herd. That is why I gave him to you, so that you might train him in a way that I couldn’t. Where is he, and have you made any progress?”
“He has been close to me for several months, and has learned a lot,” replied Ayden, “though not entirely fast. He is a slow learner, but I still have great hopes for him.”
“So? Where is he now?” she asked. “For I would love to see what progress you have made with him. You were always a fine trainer, my son.”
“He is with your grandson’s love in the capital of the Ela,” replied the Captain. “After we escaped the Mines, Kale asked for a horse to ride to Brethiel to meet with the White Queen. I had no other horse to spare but the young gelding.”
Taken aback, the ‘Mother’ said, “So… you left the leader of the White Council to ride the unclean gelding to the capital of the Ela? Was your stallion not available?! You should have given the Keeper a greater steed to ride.”
“I agree with you mother,” replied Ayden, “but at the moment, I thought it best that he take Mikey. If anyone could control the gelding, it was the Keeper of the White Mare himself. I trusted that Mikey would serve the Keeper well, and mind his every command. Unfortunately, the Keeper is no longer with us to say if he did so. I am told by the prince that he now looks after the young girl of Kain. I am not sure what will become of him.”
Noticing that Ayden was clearly upset over the Keeper’s death, she said in a warmer tone, “Well, I will keep him in my prayers, for he may yet prove his worth to his ‘Mother’ and the Kain. Now, on a lighter note, when are you going to give me a granddaughter so that the legacy of the ‘Mother’ may continue?”
Ayden rolled his eyes and turned around. He then said, “Not this again mother, I told you that I don’t have time to have children with my responsibilities to the Kain. It’s not my fault that you weren’t able to have a daughter, and it’s not Daane’s fault that Alendria didn’t want any more after Dathian was born.”
Showing a new tone in her voice, Evelyn replied, “You don’t think that I know that? You think I don’t consistently torture myself over the thought of not being able to continue the line?”
Ayden turned to her as she turned to walk away, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I am only trying to state that you put too much pressure on me.”
Evelyn turned around as her expression softened, “It was never my intention to, but you have to realize what is at stake here. Our bloodline has led the Trueborns for over five hundred years, and I am the first ‘Mother’ to not produce a proper heir. You among all spent the most time in the stables as a child. The very stallion you ride was bound to you at a young age. You were meant to carry on the legacy of the Trueborns with a daughter. I wish you wouldn’t waste your time vying for the attention of the Keeper.”
Ayden looked shocked at the mention of Alandra.
“Don’t think I don’t see you two,” said Evelyn. “I see the way you look at her, and the way she looks back when you aren’t looking. She is of the immortals, and you are of the Kain.” Ayden looked into his mother’s eyes as he fought back words of objection. She continued, “Say that your love endures the battle to come, and you marry after that. You grow old together, and reminisce the days of the war when you first fell in love, except she does not grow old. She has to watch as the bitterness of mortality withers you away before finally taking you. She will bury your body amongst our ancestors wearing a black veil concealing her endless tears.”
Ayden listened to his mother’s wisdom, every word. Although his emotions wouldn’t allow him to agree, his sense of reasoning listened.
Evelyn approached her son as she noticed his emotional struggle. She placed a hand on his cheek, and said, “I know that love is a tricky thing. It makes us think with our hearts, and not our minds, but sometimes we need to step back and examine the situation with a sense of responsibility. I know your heart, you know that this infatuation can lead to nothing but heartbreak… for both. End it now, before you get hurt.”
Ayden took his mother’s hand and continued to look her in the eyes before he said, “I hear your words mother… but my heart doesn’t. I have never felt this way for any other woman, and I need you to respect my decision either way. I swear to you that I will do everything I can to provide you with a granddaughter to carry the ‘Mother’s’ charge, but you need to allow me to decide with whom I will complete this task with.”
Evelyn studied her son’s eyes and saw that he meant what he said, and that nothing she could say could deter his decision. She paused for a moment before saying, “Then go. Go to her my son. If she is the one you chose to love, then I am behind your decision, just make sure she loves you back equally. Now, if you don’t mind, I must attend to the stables, for I must prepare the Trueborns for the Mustering. I need one more dance with them before they ride off to war.”
With his eyes, Ayden said goodbye and turned to his stallion Ronan. He untied and mounted him as he rode off back to the city to find the Keeper Alandra.
Evelyn watched her son as he rode over the hill and out of site. She paused for a moment in thought, before turning around. She grows older with each day, and her years left grow shorter with each setting sun. Will she b
e the first to interrupt the line of ‘Mothers’? To understand her significance in the world, we must travel back in time, nearly six hundred years to be exact.
Kaelithus, the newly appointed Keeper of the Staff, travels to the capital of Menethiel to meet with the other Keepers as Kaidian advised him to do. With his arrival, they would start the formation of the White Council. As Kale arrived at the capital, he entered through the large wooden gates into the city’s lower level. The capital was much different during the time of the White Council’s formation. The stones used to build the city centuries before the Separation were still gleaming white, and have not yet started showing their age and depreciation. The harbor had barely begun its expansion to house large passenger vessels, as travelers still used the Road connecting the lands of the Ela and the lands of the Kain. Thwain was the first King elected to rule over the Kain. It has been only thirteen years since the Separation. No one yet knows about the existence of the Angels of Ela and the Dragonkin Generals, nor did they know the existence of the Keepers. Only the Keepers themselves and the first King of Kain knew of the creation of the White Council and the Keepers’ newly given powers.
As Kale walked through the gates, he was met by the King and the three other Keepers. Kale could immediately feel the raw power that flowed through their veins, as it did through his. Malthius was the first to approach their new leader. Kale dismounted Cheyanne and approached the Claugg as he outstretched his hand.
“You must be the fourth member and chosen leader of our newly formed order,” said Malthius as he shook the teen’s hand. “Forgive me, but you are much younger in appearance than I anticipated.”
The Reclaiming: The Keepers Saga: Volume Two Page 18