General Thane emerged from the other side of the carriage, his dirty beard harboring a huge grin. No doubt he was more than pleased with himself and his accomplishments. A Legionarie handed him a long metal chain.
Normandy looked at the chains in confusion, as they were already bound by magic braces.
“Unnecessary, perhaps. I know. But better safe than sorry,” Thane explained. He then used the chain to connect the braces of each prisoner.
“March!” he commanded.
• • • • •
Two Legionarie escorts took the leads of the chains and began jerking Maebus and the others through the castle’s entrance. Maebus fought against the restraints and with himself, forcing his feet to move forward. But each step was like walking deeper into a nightmare.
Upon entering the main corridor, he was met with an unfamiliar chill that filled the air. Then came the eyes of his Legionarie captors, peering at him from both the ground level and upper landings, gazing upon him in shame. As General Thane entered, the corridor erupted with cheers and shouts. Thane had accomplished the impossible. By securing the Realmsic Crystal, he’d secured the Warlord’s victory once and for all.
Parading around in circles, Thane pumped his long, muscled arms into the air. He twisted about, creating a spectacle of himself. His soldiers loved it. Pausing his dance only to crouch upon the ground, he then pointed upward at Maebus’ chains.
“Behold! The mighty Realmsic King!” he shouted. “Not so mighty now, aye?” The corridor burst into laughter. Unruly and nearly uncontrollable, they banged their swords against any nearby surfaces and taunted Maebus, their prisoner—their sworn enemy.
Maebus endured the humiliation. He glanced toward his friends. Although they tried to hide it, he could see the fear in their eyes, which hurt Maebus most of all. At that moment, he accepted his fate. Whatever was to happen next was beyond his control. Yes, Damian would ultimately take his life, but he refused to let the Warlord take his dignity. For better or worse, he was still the Realmsic King. Therefore, Maebus stiffened his back, thrust out his chest, and lifted his head high.
Such an action only emboldened his ridiculers. The room became even louder than before. Thane, however, was no longer laughing. He grabbed Maebus’ chains and pushed him forward. Maebus suddenly felt the General’s palm pressed upon his back, and his words whispered into his ear, “Even in defeat, you are dignified. Enemy or not, a soldier does not deserved this ridicule.” Maebus turned his head to stare at Thane’s face, unsure if he really heard what he thought he did. But the General was already facing the opposite way.
“Come on you lugs, fun’s over!” he ordered to his escorts. “We need to get them to the Warlord.”
Resuming his lead of the procession, Thane marched Maebus and the other prisoners out of the main corridor toward the Great Hall, leaving behind a frenzy of whistles and shouts.
Chapter Forty-One
The Warlord Damian stood at his usual spot in front of the Realmsic map, envisioning what the world would look like under his complete dominance. His back was turned to the main entrance of the Great Hall, yet he sensed the energy of General Thane long before he heard the stomping of his heavy feet, along with the chains of his prisoners. Damian did not flinch when they stopped at the door. With his mind already focused on the next phase of his plans, he didn’t even acknowledge their presence until Thane finally spoke.
“My Lordship,” the General said. “I have returned.”
Damian kept his back to them. “Come forward,” he ordered.
Thane entered cautiously. Behind him, his prisoners were led in. Thane bowed before the Warlord, extending the crystal above his head for Damian’s acceptance.
“For your dominance,” he said.
Damian turned and gazed at the crystal, which sparkled with power. Never in his life had he felt such a concentration of energy. His body felt electrified as he stood near it. The experience was everything he imagined it would be, yet was unlike anything he ever knew. He dared not touch it just yet, in fear that this was all a dream, and the object would vanish before his eyes.
Damian had waited so long for this moment. He wanted to prolong the anticipation and savor the pleasure for as long as he could. Finally, he gave in to the urge. Reaching for it, he placed the crystal and its chain around his neck, and instantly felt its bond. The Realmsic within himself seemed endless. He turned around once again and resumed analyzing the world map.
Thane rose to his feet.
“Also, I present to you the Realmsic King Maebus and his Grand Wizard Advisor, Kelm!”
Damian’s back remained turned as Maebus and Kelm were separated from their prisoner companions.
“Prisoners, bow before the Warlord,” Thane commanded.
Damian slightly turned his head. From the corner of his eye, he saw that neither Maebus nor Kelm so much as flinched.
Thane’s gruff beard heaved as he expelled long breaths of air. “Prisoners! Bow before your superior,” he bellowed, stepping closer so that he towered over them.
Both men remained unmoved.
“No, no, General,” Damian finally said. “Bowing won’t be necessary. Their fleeing the kingdom and hiding in obscurity was submission enough.”
With a quick pivot of his feet, Damian’s entire body shifted to face them. Standing before them, his back bone straight, his dark eyes took in the pitiful image of his captives: an extremely tall woodsman, an archivist, a Wizard, and a King.
“How awkward is this for you, Maebus?” Damian asked. He pointed to the throne seat residing at the council table not far from where they stood, the throne that used to be Maebus’.
“You sat in that very seat, at the head of the Realmsic Kingdom, and now you stand before it as my prisoner. How does it affect your mind to feel the familiarity, perhaps even the comfort of your old surroundings, and yet the alienation and the uncertainty of your circumstance?”
Damian took a deliberate step closer to Maebus. The Realmsic Crystal hung from his neck, in reaching distance of the King, had his arms not been bound.
“Does it enrage you to be so close to the one thing you tried so desperately to protect, only to have it just beyond your grasp? Does it infuriate you to have the authority to command everything, yet the ability to control nothing—not even your own arms, which have been bound by my power?”
Maebus looked directly into Damian’s eyes. “Your taunting does not affect me,” Maebus boldly stated.
Damian disliked the word taunt. Never did he want to appear petty. “My questions are not to … taunt you,” he said sincerely. “I’m simply trying to understand the mind of the man.” He slowly circled Maebus and Kelm. “You are a unique specimen; selfless and loyal, but to a fault. And you, Grand Wizard, are just as much an anomaly to me. Perhaps singlehandedly, you are the most powerful source of magic, outside of the Realmsic Crystal. Your ability far exceeds that of other Wizards. Yet you chose to advise? Your mild mannerisms are perplexing.”
“Just kill me and let my friends go,” Maebus demanded.
“In due time,” Damian responded. “But a martyr you will not become.”
The Warlord opened his hands and, using the power of the crystal, briefly created a sequence of events within his palms. The magical images appeared as wispy illuminations forming the places and faces he spoke of.
“You reluctantly became the Realmsic King, rising above those who would not accept such responsibility,” Damian said, as his captives watched the story unfold before their eyes.
“The Realmsic people embraced you. Yet, at the most critical point in history, you abandoned them. Night after night, they cried for you. They begged for you to save them, and you hid. Their cries went unheard. They were tormented, they suffered, and they blame you. I alone have ceased their pain.”
With a flick of his hand, the images disappeared.
“You alone have caused their pain,” Maebus said.
“No difference.” Damian replied. “E
ither way, they will applaud your execution with the same enthusiasm as I.” His gaze shifted to Thane. “Take them away.”
Thane pointed toward the prisoners, and his guards quickly rounded them all up by their chains. Kelm struggled as they were being forced out of the Great Hall. Twisting his neck to look back, he shouted at Damian, “Your plans will fail! You can’t use the crystal as a weapon!”
“Stop!” Damian said, brining everyone to a halt, their chains rattling briefly.
Kelm turned to face Damian and continued. “You of all people should know how unstable the crystal can be. Every recorded instance of the crystal being weaponized has led to tragic consequences. If you use it in that manner, you’ll be dooming us all, including yourself, to certain death!”
Damian approached. “You’re absolutely right, Grand Wizard. The crystal is unstable. But what you fail to realize is that I don’t need to use it as a weapon. I am the ultimate weapon! The crystal will only enhance my abilities, until I am able to crack its mysteries and fully utilize its power.”
Kelm’s vacant expression annoyed Damian. “Do you not understand, Wizard?” his harsh tone echoed the chamber. “By possessing the only thing that could have possibly defeated me, I am unstoppable.”
With that, Damian walked back toward the Realmsic map.
“Welcome home,” he added.
Damian then heard General Thane shoving them out of the room.
“To the dungeon with you lugs,” Thane said.
Chapter Forty-Two
Seku’s mind was beyond conflicted. He was plagued by misgivings, only to create rationalizations for them. Although he was unsure about what was transpiring around him, one thing was for certain: He didn’t like what he’d been seeing.
Inside the castle’s dungeon, he waited in his usual place for Igthu, hoping to intercept him on his daily patrol. Although the youth had been distant lately, Seku still felt obligated to check in on him. Seku strained to see into the dimly lit dungeon. Located near the castle’s furnace room, the air was always warm and humid on this lower level, even in the winter. The extra humidity produced an annoying dripping sound that could be heard throughout the day and night. Amber-colored cobblestones covered the ceilings, walls, and floors. Black iron bars secured the cells, which stretched like a honeycomb down the narrow walkway. For a time, each cell had been filled to capacity. Seku shuddered to think of what tragic fate befell their inhabitants.
Where is Igthu? Seku thought.
His head continued to be riddled with unfinished ideas. He thought briefly about his recent conversation with Reeze, the young soldier in the mess hall. His face had been viciously mutilated, and Seku was directly to blame. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind, for the guilt was too much to bear at the moment.
What was he going to do? Seku was not the type of person to ignore his feelings and stand idly by. Yet, he dared not challenge the Warlord, for every perceived slight—even from his own men—had so far resulted in extreme punishments.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing within the dungeon’s interior. Strange, Igthu never usually ran this late during a patrol. As the footsteps came near, Seku edged his head around the corner and came face to face with General Thane.
“Oh!” Seku said reeling back in shock.
Thane’s face remained blank and slightly disinterested.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the old soldier,” Thane said.
Seku chuckled out of politeness. Although cordial, he never really liked Thane. “General,” he replied, “Good to see you. I heard rumors that you were back. Congratulations on your victory.”
“Yeah,” Thane responded. “I thought you were encamped with the other soldiers?”
“Affirmative. That has been my assignment since we’ve been in Centre Pointe.”
“Then what brings you down here to the dungeon?” Thane asked.
“Just checking on Igthu. You remember him, don’t you?”
“Barely,” Thane said dryly.
Seku continued. “He’s a patrolman on the castle’s dungeon level, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember him. Nonetheless, he’s like a son to me, so I occasionally check in on him to make sure he’s all right.”
“Well, I doubt he’ll be down here today,” Thane said. “My prisoners have just been locked away to await execution. In the meantime, we have them under tight surveillance. No one but my official detail is permitted in this part of the dungeon, until otherwise noted.”
Oh, no wonder you’re acting so accusatory, Seku thought.
“Well, on that note, I’ll look for Igthu elsewhere,” he said with a sigh.
“Is something bothering you?” General Thane asked.
Seku paused, unsure if Thane was asking out of legitimate concern, or just being facetious.
“It’s nothing,” Seku said. He had reached a decision regarding Thane’s sincerity. “I’ll be on my way.”
“Seku, stop.” Thane commanded. “I’m serious. From one old soldier to another, you don’t look like a warrior whose army just achieved its ultimate victory. In fact, you look troubled.”
Seku nodded slightly. “Probably because I am,” he admitted.
Seku was still not convinced that all of his misgivings weren’t just overreactions. Was this really an opportunity to gain some clarity into what he’d been torn about? Granted, Seku and Thane were not friends. However, they shared a common bond through Damian. General Thane worked as closely with the Warlord as he did, closer even. Perhaps Thane really could offer some solid, unbiased insight.
“What’s on your mind?” the General asked.
“It’s not so much what’s on my mind as what’s in my heart,” Seku began. “Since you’ve been away pursuing King Maebus, I’ve seen things, even done things that I’m not proud of.”
Thane laughed. “Have you finally lost the taste for a soldier’s life?”
“Not at all, sir,” Seku retorted. “It’s my soldier’s ambition that’s been giving me pause over what I’ve seen lately.”
“You still haven’t told me anything,” Thane said.
Seku took a quick glance around and lowered his voice just above a whisper. “I’m worried about Damian.”
Thane’s eyes seemed to pulsate. “Go on,” he said.
“In your absence, the Warlord allowed the Legion to plunder Centre Pointe. Without restraint, they looted and massacred the people of this kingdom. I understand the tactic—create suffering to flush out the Realmsic King. But the level of cruelty was beyond my own expectations. Things quickly spiraled out of control and for a moment, just for a moment, Damian seemed … off-kilter.”
Seku watched Thane scratch his scruffy beard, as if contemplating his next words.
“As great and powerful as our leader is, we have to remember that he is still human,” Thane explained. His words were slow, yet direct. “Although I’m confident of my own skills, there was no guarantee that we were going to capture the King and crystal. Imagine being in Damian’s situation, launching the greatest conquest in Realmsic history, yet being unable to secure the most powerful weapon in creation. Next, imagine facing the constant threat of your enemies retaliating against you with that same weapon. Such a notion may force you into extreme courses of action and unconventional methods of strategy. Who’s to say what any of us would do to achieve ultimate victory?”
“You’re right,” Seku interjected. “We have achieved ultimate victory. Not only have we captured the Realmsic Kingdom, but we now possess that ultimate weapon. Damian has surpassed the ambitions of his own father, yet he still seems … dissatisfied.”
“The Warlord is insatiable. It’s what separates him from ordinary men. I don’t see a problem with that,” Thane said.
“And neither do I, Thane. But what worries me is what’s next to come. What will he do with this power? It doesn’t seem like he’s going to abolish magic like he said he was going to.”
“Seku,” Tha
ne said. “You are a great soldier, and I’ve always admired your unique skills. Your finesse and stealth are traits that many times I wished I possess. But a conqueror, you are not. A conqueror, I am not. Who are you to say what is ‘off-kilter’? Who are you to judge the actions of a man who has achieved the impossible?”
Thane leaned in closer to Seku. “You are playing a dangerous game, my friend. A game in which you personally have seen the consequences. Out of respect for you, I won’t have you flogged like I would any other soldier. But I’ll only say this once...”
Thane poked his index finger square in Seku’s chest. “Mind your place.”
Without saying another word, the General walked away.
• • • • •
Leoden was uncertain of his whereabouts, of the date, and the time of day. From dawn till dusk, he’d ridden from the Northern Lands until each sun-drenched day blended seamlessly together. Perhaps timelessness was life’s true natural state. Being far from his home, away from any of its comforts and familiarities, he found his mind clear, his spirit free to the wills of the wind, as it blew along the open lands of the kingdom.
Though instinct guided him, it was anticipation that drove him. He rode as the evening sun set to the right of him—making way for the stars. His hands were sweaty, gripping the reins of his horse and speeding as if his life depended on it. Not once did he stop to think about what he was doing, where he was going, why he suddenly felt so anxious. He’d stopped questioning such things shortly after leaving his village. He now simply submitted to the urges that had so far pulled him in this general direction.
“Whooooaaa, Zinly!” Leoden shouted, yanking back on the reins. The horse neighed as it skidded to a stop, kicking up grass and dirt. Inches away from them, a cliff loomed. A few extra steps, and they both would have careened over its edge. Leoden stretched his leg over the saddle and jumped down. His gait wobbled due to days of nonstop riding. He patted his Zinly’s snout and carefully walked to the ledge.
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