When they finally broke from the tree line, the sight stole Riah’s breath, andhestumbledforwardtosweep theentirescene into view. A towering waterfall of small width cascaded from an enormous rise of black, jagged rock. This rock extended several miles down, out of his view. Along this extension of rock were other, smaller waterfalls.
The main waterfall before him rushed into an opening in the ground also out of his sight. When his eyes trailed above the waterfall, he saw the pointed towers, glass windows, and stone that formed the fortress rising high above the forest surrounding him. What appeared to be the door to this fortress was situated to the left of the waterfall. The arch over the opening was fashioned of iron and set with silver markings that twisted over every inch of the arch. The doorway itself was several feet high and barred with steel. Circular steps led to this opening.
“It is magnificent, isn’t it?” Leviathan said with a genuine smile as he loped towards the mountain’s opening. Riah continued to gape at the sight.
“And this is all mine…”
“If you do not fail,” Leviathan said into his mind. Riah scowled, but a small smile lighted his lips next.
“Home,” he murmured. “I can work with it,” he shouted after the Shadow Bearer. “You have yet to see the inside,” was Leviathan’s shouted reply.
Riah trotted to where Leviathan was closing his eye and twisting his neck. Sounds drifted from Leviathan’s parted lips, and Riah could see them…
He could see the tendrils of blackness fading into the door. And then...clicks like ones heard when keys are inserted and turned. The doors swayed inward. As enormous as they were, they made not a sound.
Riah stepped onto the threshold of his new home.
A drafty air and the musty, dank smell hit him, nearly sending him reeling out of the fortress. “This fortress hasn’t exactly been well maintained in a great long time,” Leviathan said as he passed Riah in the hall that now stretched endlessly beforethem. TheShadowBearer’s handgrazedlanterns hanging on various hooks along the interior walls, and blue flames appeared in each of them. “This way.”
Riah took his time passing through that hall and peering into rooms beyond. Leviathan motioned to where the gallery was but did not allow Riah entrance just yet. After what seemed far too long, the pair reached the end of the hall, and Leviathan eased open the colossal doors of the throne room.
The throne room was fit for no one else than a dragon lord.
A great serpent of wings, carved of silver and set with sapphires, was wound around the back of the wide throne upon which a cushion was placed and from which iron spikes protruded. “They are like iron thorns,” Riah thought as he stepped closer.
When he glanced about the rest of the room, he found massive sets of glass windows overlooking the mountains, a door leading into an exquisite dining hall, teal marble tiles lined the floor, and high-reaching ceilings from which an iron chandelier hung. Riah noticed that Leviathan had set the wicks of candles alight with blue fire.
“The throne is a replica of Lucius’, the only one there is. Though, the Prince’s is far grander. The Throne of Thorns,” Leviathan said.
“This is all mine...” Riah did not know if it was a statement to assure this was true to himself or a pleading question.
“You are a guest in this fortress; a guest of your own possible destiny, should you choose that path and succeed. Take time to explore. Paint if you like. Eat as much as your stomach desires. Drink, but leave some for me when I return.”
Riah turned, ripping his eyes from the throne to face his escort. “Where are you going?”
Leviathan’s lips turned into a wicked smile. “Back to Ilea of course, as well as to Mingroth. I have unfinished business in the south. You will remain here.”
“Alone?” Riah’s stomach twisted into a tight, clenching knot at the thought of that enormous bird flying out there somewhere. The bird that was larger than this fortress, most likely.
“Not entirely.” Leviathan pointedtowards a door ofblack steel which was nearly completely concealed beyond a cascading, evergreen curtain. “Beyond there is the dragon keep. Mind you, they roam freely in the mountains inside the borders of this domain. You will learn to summon them. I suggest that you get to know them, allow them time to come to trust you. They will be your mightiest weapon when the time comes.”
Riah gulped, wondering exactly how many of these dragons there were. “And if I can summon them without being eaten alive.”
Leviathan had turned and was gliding from the throne room when he announced, “The Lady of the Rocs will arrive in due time to bring you aid in your training. I suggest that you treat her well and provide her with a warm welcome. Break out the best of the ale.”
With these words, Leviathan bounded into the air, twisted, and vanished. Riah felt suddenly and utterly alone in that massive, empty fortress. A stretch of foreign memories not his own awaited him.
“This does not feel likehome,” he murmured to thesilent fortress.
It was clear that the gallery had not been in use in all the years
Leviathan had claimed the fortress to be ill-kempt. Riah guessed this by the layers of dust covering the shelves of books, the framed paintings lining walls, and furniture.
He coughed on the cloud of dust that wafted from the floor when he stepped into the gallery and eased the door shut behind him. He did not like the idea of so many open doors in this enormous, empty house when the night was closing in. Riah stepped over a frame which had fallen to the floor and broken into several parts. The glass was shattered, also. With a wave of his hand and another cough, Riah cleared the dust flying at him. The windows filtered pale, evening light into the lengthy gallery.
Riah looked for a hearth and soon found a small one hidden behind a sofa turned on its side. With a grunt, he lowered himself to his knees before it and began constructing a fire with wood that appeared to have been in there as long as the dust. When the fire was blazing, he took time to look over the paintings covering the main wall and the many sculptures of prestigious lords and mighty dragons scattered about the gallery. The paintings pictured scenes ranging from portraits of disagreeable persons to bloody battlefields to landscapes of placid disposition to dark, obscure figures with no rhyme or reason to them.
When Riah spotted the dust-laden trunk in the corner beneath a rusted suit of armor, he rushed towards it, bent, and pried the lid upward. A small smile crossed his lips, and his heart thudded with delight. He reached for the box full of brushes and spotted rags. Jars of every color of paint one could imagine were stacked atop one another, and fresh, smooth parchment was rolled and bound with string.
Riah reached for the parchment first and unrolled a good portion of it. With a blade, he slit it to separate portion from the rest. He set this parchment on the floor and began painting. He used all the colors his mother would have favored. He found colors to mix so he could have the proper shade for her hair. And her eyes…Riah could paint her eyes with light.
It made more sense to find a kitchen and some food or to clean...something. It made more sense to find a chamber and prepare a bed. But all Riah could think of were the images in his head. The Shadow Wings, the Roc’s egg.
Saffira.
Tyron’s body…
Riah gulped down an ache building in his throat. His
hand shook as he stroked his brush over the parchment again. Riah did not know how long he remained in the gallery, but while he painted, not a thought of the emptiness of that fortress and the creaking, swaying sounds that sounded from behind closed doors reached him. His focus was on the crackling fire and the brush against his parchment. Eventually, he must have fallen asleep on that sofa he had set upright, for when he awoke, the sunlight cascaded over a woman who sat before him.
“I hadn’t always planned on destroying my own realm. But time passes and plans change. Especially when you are a damned, cruel, and utterly wicked being.”
Sincerely,
The one who
despises you most
Thirteen
Fiera had healed within days of arriving in the Ruins of Enboria
and was restless and irritable in the small confines of her room. “I haven't hunted since the ancient times!” she claimed the next time Caleb told her she couldn’t get up.
“It's only been three days,” he had replied. “And besides, you didn't have to hunt. I did it all myself.”
“But it wasn’t as delightful, was it?” Fiera had countered.
Cam was with Joel when he penned the note saying he was leaving to his parents. And Joel was there when she gave letters to thebrother hefavoredmost. “Promise methis gets into reliable hands,” Joel had said. His brother had nodded, concern etched into his expression.
They would depart early in the morning. Hopefully before anyone was up. But as the sun blushed against the blurry morning sky, Joel looked over his shoulder, a sort of longing in his expression. “He hasn't been far from home before. I felt the same when I left Medulla for the first time,” Cam thought. And then she saw her. Belle was standing on the slope, her arms crossed over her chest and her gaze softened yet holding something short of sorrow.
The woman did not call, however. She did not try to stop them. Only watched as her son and those she had given a home to for the short time that she had, abandoned her. At least, that’s what it felt like to Cam. She turned her horse and did not look back.
Fiera was riding the other horse they had brought with them. Caleb and Joel were already scouting ahead. The wastelands to the south were the graveyards of those who had once dwelled in the commonwealth of Enboria. In fact, it seemed grayer than a graveyard. It was too...empty to hold the bodies of those left behind.
“There only lived a few kings and queens who were truly noble in this kingdom,” Joel spoke solemnly. “The Watchers warned the people that Mingroth would overtake them due to their immortality.”
“But the Watchers were not heeded?” Caleb inquired.
Joel nodded. “Most of the Watchers lived sorrowful lives in which the people persecuted and plagued them.”
When the wastelands of Enboria were miles behind them, Cam’s eyes beheld what Joel told them was the old countryside of Enboria. The earth was spread in an expanse of green as vast as the sky overhead and dotted with trees of many colors. No homes were to be found, but every night they found a wall, pillar, the remainder of a tower to camp beside.
Cam looked back over her shoulder at the world of ruin they were leaving behind. “What did they do that their own god would destroy them?” she breathed. She found it odd, then, that this was a part of the history of Elyon that her father had left out. She reminded herself, “The Spirit Followers came after this.”
Cam drew in a deep breath, one which brought cold air to her
lungs. She exhaled and tightened her hand on the slingshot swinging from her side. Not that she felt she’d have to defend herself, but the twisting trees before her had her muscles stiffening.
The Forest of Thorns loomed ahead. A tangle of forgotten memories. The trees swayed at enormous heights, high above their heads. Their branches were crooked and sharpened with thorns on all sides. Only pale moonlight colored the dim shades of green and gray that blanketed the vegetation. There was a small, barely distinguishable path into the forest to which Joel took to lead them. The others followed in a single file line. Hardly any words were spoken as they observed their new and strange surroundings.
They had left their horses behind in land greener and safer than what they were heading into. “Notan ideallandscape, but this means we are close,” Cam thought in an effort to comfort herself, for they had come at last to the place marked on Riah’s map.
“No wildlife,” Fiera groaned. Only a stream was to be found later that day. And even that held hardly anything edible in both fish and plants. The forest felt endless and the duration of the day was spent in avoiding cuts and tears, though those proved abundant despite their efforts.
When a clearing came into view, Cam nearly collapsed with fatigue. But...what lay before them was so different in appearance to what they had just ventured through, that she could not tear her eyes away. It was not the moonlit clearing in which thorns rose on all sides that seemed different. It was not the overgrown yard or the quaint stone castle rising in the center that snagged at Cam’s attention. In fact, the structure seemed rather commonplace and... familiar. Like Medulla. Like home. Or, at least, what use to feel like home.
But it was the warmth radiating from inside the castle andthesounds accompanyingit that caught Cam’s attention and interest. They were the sounds she would expect from the tavern near the docks in the Royalty Realms. Boisterous fishermen gathered for the evening. It was the warm light in every open window and the laughter that issued forth that had Cam stepping forward. A hand grabbed at her arm. “Cam,” Fiera warned.
“This is...strange…” Caleb said. He was right. Why were so many people gathered in the middle of nowhere?
Cam shrugged. “This is where Riah’s map was marked.”
“Exactly,” Fiera said firmly. “Which means these people arelikelyRiah’stypeofcompany.Notours.”Camknewher sister was right. Still, she wasn’t about to stand idly by after they had trekked the forest for an entire day. This is what they had come for. She was awake now at the prospect. Caleb and Joel seemed to think the same.
Cam reached to Fiera and squeezed her hand. “Come on, Fi. We’ll be careful.” Fiera grumbled but soon fell into step behind them. She did not raise her bow and arrow, but she kept a hand close to the blade at her belt. Cam was doing the same to her slingshot.
They had just stepped into the clearing when loud shouting and laughing echoed from the other side of the clearing. A moment later, following a tremendous hacking sound, four men and two women talking merrily emerged from the thorns. They were carrying baskets, and one of them was playing a pipe. Cam stopped to watch them, not sure of what to make of the procession. Such happy people in such a dreary place. “What is happening?”
The procession, too, stopped, at the sight of the four young people. The largest of the men, and perhaps the drunkest, called out to them. “Aye! Who goes there?” The women giggled. Cam glanced at her companions.
“Aye!” Caleb called back with a wave. Cam suppressed a laugh. Fiera hissed. “What?” Caleb said. “They’ve already seen us.”
“Are yee coming in or not?” the man called back as her company approached the door of the castle. The door was being opened by a patron beyond who seemed to know the men and women.
Cam shrugged. “Why not?” she laughed then and shook her head. “Where do these people come from?”
“They’ll probably think the same of us,” Joel said. He circled a hand around his abdomen. “We’re not as...round.”
It was Fiera who laughed this time. “Reminds me of home,” she remarked. And with that, they set out after the procession and were presently enveloped in commotion and light. Cam was very much awake when they were ushered into the castle. The room was indeed aglow with candles and fires in a hearth or two. There was no bar or multiple places for sitting as she would expect in the tavern. The room did not just smell of ale. It did smell of ale, but also freshly baked bread, spices, fruit, and sizzling meat. There were no barmaids, no tenders, no tall, broad men with arms across their chests watching from behind a tankard. Everyone was laughing. Everyone was acting as if they belongedhere. Therewas music andsinginganddrinking. And… “Why would Riah ever come here?” Cam wondered.
“I’m goingto find a drink,”Caleb said ashethumpedJoel on the back. “And he’s coming with me.”
“I-I am?” Joel stammered, but he had no choice, for Caleb drew him into the crowd.
Fiera rose a brow at Cam. “I’m hungry myself.”
“Where did they get all this food?” Cam wondered aloud. “There was nothing in the forest.” And then again, as she tucked Riah’s map away, “Why was Riah bound for this place?”
Cam saw, o
r rather, felt the answer the next moment when a chorus of cheers arose to drown out the clanking of tankards and the trilling of flutes and pipes. A figure was emerging from the curtained doorway into the main, open room, of the castle. And the second she appeared, Cam knew this was her place. She was the person these people were here for. Who they were here for? She was set apart from the room, yet still very much a part of it. Everything responded to her: the people, the light, the music.
The woman’s hair hung in ringlets around her small face. Her eyes were round and... beautiful. The most beautiful eyes Cam had ever seen. Because when she looked into those eyes, she saw… Thousands of years.
Time. Memories. Beautiful and painful. The woman’s gaze was steady but gentle over the room. Firm but easy. She nodded at patrons and recognized and smiled at ones she had not seen before.
Cam could not turn her gaze away. She roved the woman’s features, now drinking in the detail of her clothing. The woman was barefoot, her dark feet graceful on the floor. She wore loose-fitting pants the richest shade of turquoise and trimmed with gold. She wore a matching top that slid to reveal a strip of brown skin at her navel. Her arms were also bare. And she didn’t seem cold or in any way uncomfortable with her appearance. Nothing about her shrunk or sank into herself.
In fact, the room seemed to shrink in her presence. Ebb and flow as well. The people pressed forward in eagerness but yet seemed to be hanging back. They wanted to touch her, but they would not.
The woman lifted a hand, and the room hushed at her movement. It seemed to hold its breath as she spoke. The woman’s voice was smooth like honey. “Welcome, good friends. I hope you are enjoying yourselves.” The room burst into shuttered clapping and cheery affirmations. “And thank you for all the food you have brought,” she said warmly. “And for those of you that are new, a portion of your food is to be put in the kitchen in exchange for your time here and any additional services you require of me.”
Keepers of the Crown Page 14
