The Reclaiming: The Keepers Saga: Volume Two

by Dillon McNaight

  Sadja looks away for a moment as if to recall an important memory, then says, “He spoke to me inside my head not two days ago. He told me how to leave the Mines in secret. He told me that the Kain’s Guard and Golden Army would be arriving to the Cleft in just a few days.”

  Alandra replied, “Listen Sadja, he’s gone. I don’t know what you heard, but it wasn’t him.”

  Sadja pulled his hands away as he began to grow angered, “No you listen, I know what I heard. Did you see him die with your own eyes?!”

  “Well, no…”

  “…Then you don’t know for sure!” Sadja lowered his voice as he retook her hand, and said, “From the first day we all became Keepers, I have been able to sense each one of you, like part of you was inside of me. Right now, standing here, I feel your magical presence, and same with Malthius’. I also feel Kale… somewhere… I can’t explain it. He told me of the Shade Lord, but he never said he was killed, for how could he. If he was dead, truly dead, he would not be able to speak to me.” Sadja then looked at Glammdreing, and asked, “Can he?”

  Glammdreing replied, “If you are referring to communication with those in Aya, yes, it is possible, but you have to be an Angel, or a god. I don’t believe spirits of those who lived mortal lives are able to communicate with the living. That is all I know, Teeca is much more of an expert in this particular field.”

  Alandra turned to Glammdreing with tears in her stoic eyes as she asks, “So it’s possible? Kale could still be alive?”

  “If he is, where is he then? Why would he only speak to me?” questioned Sadja.

  Glammdreing said, “The idea that Kale is still alive somewhere and is in communication with Sadja is a wonderful thought, but I must insist you consider the alternative. The voice you heard might not be his, and the power you’re feeling might not belong to him either.”

  Sadja asked, “What do you mean? Who would pretend to be Kale? What is there to benefit by leading me here to…” Sadja suddenly stopped talking, and his face grew sour. “Calthrog the deceiver…” Anger flooded the proud Keeper, as he continued, “He must have found a way to get inside my head. But that would mean he knows about the King’s plan.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if this was the case, Sadja,” said Glammdreing. “Calthrog will surely have many spies throughout the lands, and it’s no secret that the Golden Army marched to Riverton from Brethiel.”

  “But how does that explain how he knew about the hidden tunnels in the mountain that would lead me here?” asked Sadja.

  “It doesn’t,” said Alandra as she looked into Sadja’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter at this point, but if I were to choose, I would like to think that he is still out there… somewhere… and someday, he’ll return to us. Let’s choose to think that, ok?”

  Many emotions filled the Keeper of the Sword, for up until just a few moments ago, he believed his leader and friend to still be alive. He knows what he felt, and does not believe, even in the deepest reaches of his heart, that Calthrog would be able to manipulate his power and mind into believing Kale was alive. He may mimic Kale’s voice, but he could not mimic his ability to sense the other Keepers. No, he chooses to believe that Kale is alive, if not trapped in a spiritual realm that cannot be traveled to by the living. Hopefully, in time the truth will reveal itself, but for now, he needed to be there for his people. They needed him, just as much as they needed all the Keepers. Sadja then gently embraced Alandra, seeing that she was in need of comforting, though she would never admit it.

  As he pulled back, he replied, “Ok.” He smiled, then looked to Glammdreing, and said, “Come, follow me. The Cleft’s stores are intact, and I saw some dried Sleepy Willow. Kale used to go on and on about how good the old hermit’s weed was, so I think the best thing to do now, would be to prove him right.”

  Although he seemed undisturbed by the news of Kale’s death, Alandra knew that deep down it was killing him, but he is too proud to ever show it. It also stirred up some temporarily submersed feelings in Alandra, so the idea of relaxing for a few hours sounded better than anything else right now.

  “I’m in,” said Alandra as she raised her hand and began following Sadja.

  “I will never understand you mortal’s and your pipe weed,” said Glammdreing, “but I guess there is no better time than to try it.”

  The three Guardians walked together to the Cleft.

  Alandra then suddenly stopped, and asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be looking out for Moonshine? How is she? Is she fine? Are you feeding her enough, and giving her the attention she needs?! She better not be…”

  “Relax,” said Sadja as he placed his arm around her, “she is in the best hands possible. I would even go as far as saying I trust the boy with my life. Don’t worry, Joseph is making sure she is getting the best care possible. And besides, she likes him better than me.”

  Alandra cracked a subtle smile as she replied, “There better not be one misplaced feather Sadja, or so help me god.”

  Once the three got to the Cleft, they helped themselves to the immense emergency reserves, including aged brown liquor, red wine, dried beef, canned soups, rice, pipe weed, and enough beddings to sleep comfortably through the night in the safety of the Cleft. The King and the White Queen won’t arrive until the next day with the army. They will then spend the remaining day preparing for the siege of Menethiel.

  DAY THREE:

  As the new day arrives in the Fertile Valley, the young prince awakes to a blinding good morning kiss from the eager sun. It’s warmer than the bitter bite from fall’s premature frost earlier. Smoke still rises in small puffs from the previous night’s fire, though no usable coals still remain. The sounds have changed in the Valley, and fewer birds can be heard chirping their soft songs. Wind is more predominant as well, and often comes and goes without warning or reprieve. The endless fields are now dried up and yellow, signaling the end of the harvest season, and the birth of fall. As Dathian sits up and stretches his stiff back, he looks over to see whether the other two were up. He sees Ethan sitting next to Biix, staring at him while he slept.

  “What are you doing?” asked Dathian.

  “Watch,” said Ethan.

  Dathian watched as Ethan poked Biix with a stick, trying to wake him up to no avail. Ethan then looks at Dathian as if to gain a common sense of bewilderment.

  Dathian laughed as he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who can sleep that sound.”

  “Well, not completely,” laughed Ethan, “watch this.” He then stood up and walked a few feet away, then yelled, “Breakfast is done!”

  And as he predicted, Biix woke up abruptly and shook his head as he almost involuntarily said, “Breakfast? Food? I’m up… let’s eat.”

  Biix then stood up without any pause for stretching or yawning, and quickly began to scan his horizon for the signs of hot and ready food to eat. Once he saw there was none, and after examining Ethan and Dathian laughing hysterically, he realized it was only a rouse.

  He then said with all seriousness, “I fail to see the humor in this situation…” As the others just kept laughing, Biix continued, but more to himself, “Saying there is food when there is in fact, NO food, is not only cruel, it’s rude.”

  “I honestly don’t know how you can sleep though almost anything,” said Dathian, “but food is the one thing that your ears can hear. It’s amazing to me.”

  Ethan continued to laugh as he turned to begin preparing breakfast. Once he was turned around, he stops laughing as he looks ahead of him. His lungs seize up and his face grows instantly white. A flush of anxiety rushes from his head to his feet. His knees began to weaken and tingle as they start to convulse. The sight that the innocent teen is transfixed on was that of his hometown, Greenglen… but it is not how he left it. Dathian notices the expression on Ethan’s face, one that he has seen before, only it was his, the day Menethiel fell. Biix notices as well, and they walk up to Ethan to investigate. Before they can say a word… they see it.
There stands Greenglen, central trading center for the Fertile Valley, and home to Ethan’s family… burnt… and ruined. The outlaying wall is nothing more than a series of smoldering splinters. Swipes of grass are black like the spontaneous brush strokes on a canvas. The village center, which could previously be seen from miles away, is caved in and mangled with burnt wood. Ethan brakes his immobility and begins running towards the village, which is still a mile away.

  “Ethan! Wait!” yelled Dathian as he ran after him.

  Biix, the only sensible one right now, turned around to wake Red and grab his spear, as well as Ethan’s daggers, and Dathian’s sword. Cheyanne also took notice to the commotion, and ran off after Dathian. Ethan’s horse Talliel followed closely to the White Mare. Once Biix had their weapons, he jumped on Red and ran after them all. His saber was much faster than even the White Mare, and caught up with Ethan first. He ran in front of him, and stopped Red.

  “Biix! Get out of my way!” screamed Ethan, clearly enraged beyond articulation.

  “Just take these,” said Biix as he tossed his daggers to him.

  Ethan caught them, nodded in thanks, then continued to run towards his burnt and utterly destroyed village. So many thoughts were racing through his mind, different scenarios, images saved only for nightmares, but were all at the same time blocked from penetrating his strong spirit. He actually felt an immense calm and concentration, fueled with anger and rage, but controlled and calculated by reason. He was mentally and physically prepared to face who or whatever he was about to encounter. Be it a man or Dragon, he didn’t care. If his family was taken… if the actuality of their deaths are confirmed… and the guilty party, no matter race, size, or creed stood before him... one of them would die, ‘who’ didn’t matter to him.

  Cheyanne, however, wasn’t about to let any of them blindly run into harm. She leapt into the air and flew beyond them all, about a half way between the ruins and Greenglen and the teen’s camp. She landed several yards in front of Ethan, and turned to face him. Her body began to shine through the mud, which stopped Ethan immediately as if commanded to. The light immitted off the White Mare did not strike Ethan with authority, but rather a sense of warmth and compassion. Ethan then fell to his knees, and with a slow transition from anger, he gradually grew saddened, and tears no longer held their ground, and freely fell from the emotionally overwhelmed teen. Dathian and Biix slowly approached their mutual friend, both unsure of what to say, or how to react. They didn’t have time to, for they all heard a crackled and old voice inside their heads.

  “POOR… miserable… MORTALS!” echoed the cold and dark voice.

  This is the first time Ethan or Biix heard a voice not of their own, but Dathian recognized its origin. The only ones who could speak in such a way are Guardians, and one of them was speaking to them now.

  Biix, clearly startled, yelled, “What was that?! Did you hear that?!”

  Ethan remained frozen as Dathian replied, “Yes. We are not alone.”

  Then they saw it. The unmistakable outline of the Red Dragon rose from the ruined center of Greenglen. Smoke and ash billowed behind his mighty wings as he thunderously rose into the sky. With one flap, he soared towards the teens, landing with tremendous force in front of them. Dathian instantly recognized him, and his heart sank lower than his friend’s. Standing before him, in all his glorious evil, is the one that single handily took his mother from him in the blink of an eye. Cheyanne turned and slowly walked backwards, positioning herself directly in between the Dragon and the teens. Her eyes began to shine bright as her hooves started to glow.

  “Behold, the great WHITE MARE!” roared Bargokk’s voice. “What power do you possess without your ‘Mother’s’ words? Can you stop FIRE?!” Cheyanne shook her head, and pawed at the ground as the General continued, “You are just as HELPLESS to save your NEW master, as you were to save your OLD! You are nothing to me, BEAST!” Bargokk then turned his attention to the prince, and said, “Ahhh, and the young prince of Kain… we tragically meet again. What was it your MOTHER said just before I burned her ALIVE?!” Dathian’s blood began to boil as Bargokk added, “Go my child, I believe… brave woman she was, didn’t even SCREAM!”

  Biix was frozen in a fear that he has not yet experienced, and the gravity of war came to fruition. Ethan could not take his eyes or mind off the smoldering buildings behind the Red Dragon, and what they represented.

  Dathian, who seemed the only one partially numb to the Dragon’s words, said in return, “If you are going to kill us, then just get on with it, and stop carrying on with your useless mumble.”

  Bargokk’s giant red eyes squinted further into menace, as he replied, “Tell me, young prince, do you REALLY think the Dragonkin are BLIND to your people’s feeble attempt at REBELLION?! Do you think we would NOT prepare to take on the full extent of the Ela’s pathetic Golden ARMY?! They are NOTHING to me but inspects crawling on my table, waiting to be SMASHED! No… you will not die today… and if you do not want to die tomorrow, then I suggest you RUN away as FAR AS YOU CAN! For come tomorrow, the free peoples of Kranos will breathe in their LAST breath of FREEDOM!” Just before he finished, he looked at Ethan one more time, and said, “I see them… I see them in your mind… and I STILL hear the cries they made as they BURNED alive! Does this break you?! If not… come find me. Show me your revenge!”

  With these last words, the General leapt into the air, and set flight away from the teens, and back towards the capital, for his annihilation of the village of Greenglen now laid behind him, and the score was now settled after so many of his own were killed by the Kain’s Guard. He left no survivors. Dathian watched with vengeful eyes as the Red Dragon faded into the distance. Biix walked beside the prince, and said nothing as he watched Bargokk until he was no more. They then together looked over to Ethan. As he stood, he wiped the remaining tears off his emotionally numb face. He then walked over to Talliel, and began to walk her back to their camp.

  Dathian asked, “Where are you going?”

  Ethan turned to him and replied with a stoic and monotone gaze, “We need to get the rest of our things.” He said no more as he began leading Talliel.

  Biix whispered to Dathian, “He’s right, let’s go.”

  Dathian didn’t know what he wanted. Part of him wants to get on Cheyanne and follow the one who killed his mother, but the other, more reasonable side, chose to follow his friends and properly break down camp, a mundane and seemingly inappropriate task that no one wanted to do. Both him and Biix could sense that Ethan wanted nothing but silence while he tries to discover how to deal with the pain numbing tragedy he was just abruptly presented.

  Once back in their camp, they packed the rest of their things, and prepared to leave. They arrived at the outskirts of Greenglen the night before, but it was simply too dark to see the village. They were completely unaware of the destruction that occurred just hours before they got to where they stopped. They spent the night playing cards, using whatever they had as gambling currency. In the end, Ethan walked away with Dathian’s stash of pipe weed, and Biix’s horde of aged deer jerky. It seemed such a peaceful evening, with no worries. They planned on going around Greenglen, for they didn’t have time to stop, plus Ethan didn’t want to see his family until after the battle. He couldn’t have them on his mind, while at the same time fighting for them. Now there was no need. The reason in him blocked out any chance that they survived Bargokk’s fury. After all, it wasn’t but two weeks ago that the Keeper of the Bow and the Kain’s Guard killed many Drykans in the same village. The captain escaped, so word would have undoubtable reached the Generals. Bargokk said that they are not blind to the King’s plan, so he knew that his armies would be nowhere near the village.

  Once ready to leave, Ethan stopped and turned to Biix and Dathian, and said, “Look, I am not blind to what happened, nor am I immune to it, but now is not the time to dwell on it.” His voice began to crack as his eyes glistened from added moisture. “My family was just murdered, and
everyone I knew, burned alive. I will grieve for them… but not now. I will come back and bury each and every one of them… but not now.” He could no longer control his emotions as he continued in broken words, “I WILL have vengeance for what they, what HE did, but… not… now!” He cleared his throat and regained some composure as he added, “Right now, we need to travel to your father. We need to tell him what we know, and accept whatever consequence comes our way. They HAVE to know.”

  Ethan begged his friends with his words, his eyes, and his overall demeanor to let this go, let him grieve in his own way, and focus on getting to the King before it’s too late. Dathian could hear him screaming inside, for he has heard it before. He knew exactly how Ethan felt in this exact moment.

  “Ok,” said Dathian as he mounted Cheyanne, “we will go see my father. They should arrive to the Cleft of Karnith by nightfall.”

  Biix, who was not guilty of treason prior to this endeavor, asked, “What about me? What are they going to do to me? Because I have to be in the battle, I HAVE to. I can’t go home having failed… I just can’t!”

  “Don’t worry,” said Dathian, “I will tell my father that you didn’t have anything to do with this, and that you just fell behind, and found us.”

  Biix nodded, but said no more. Dathian motioned for Ethan to lead the way. One after the other, the teens began walking, not north, but east to the Cleft. They could be marching to their own imprisonments, for none of them knew if the King would believe their tale, and excuse them of their previous crimes, not even the prince himself. It is an eight-hour ride to the Cleft, which leaves a long ride to dwell on their thoughts, especially Ethan, but his spirit is strong, and somehow Dathian just knows that he will make it. He even envied Ethan’s ability to compose himself in such a manner. Most would be inconsolable at the least, including the prince, but not him, not Ethan. Dathian will never forget this day, and the look on his new friend’s face. They now shared a common hatred, something that Ethan could never understand prior to this. Before they were out of sight of the village, Ethan took one more look as a final tear slowly fell down his red cheek.