The Key of Creation: Book 02 - Journey to Khodara

by M. D. Bushnell

  “Haunted?”

  “Yes, haunted! Ghosts and such,” Warren stammered. “There is an ancient cluster of tombs near here, so old that no one remembers what civilization they belonged to. You can see the strange rock formations from the road in places, when the road curves just right and there aren’t too many trees blocking the view. It is said there is a large network of caverns that connect the tombs, but no one in recent memory has seen or explored them.”

  “Interesting,” Garrick said.

  Aldrick chimed in with, “What evidence is there of these alleged ghosts?”

  Warren cleared his throat as if preparing for an oration. “People in these parts have seen their pale ghostly forms floating through the trees at night. Sometimes the apparitions go to outlying farms and take back what is rightfully theirs. Cows and other livestock go missing, and food and supplies disappear. There have even been a few deaths at the hands of the ghosts, but there are never any witnesses; at least none that lived to tell the tale. The bodies are found having been cut by ghostly blades.” He finished by waving his hands around dramatically for effect.

  Garrick snorted. “Your storytelling scares me more than the ghosts.”

  “They are real!” Warren insisted. “The ghostly figures have been seen stalking throughout this area.”

  “How do you know of this?” Aldrick asked.

  “I grew up not far from here,” Warren explained. “The rumors would spread after each sighting, especially if there was a killing, although that was quite rare. I’ve never heard of anyone catching one of them, but how do you catch a ghost anyway?”

  Garrick only grunted, but Aldrick said, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “At least wait until daylight to do any hunting. The ghosts don’t bother large merchant trains, but it’s not safe for small groups to wander around in the woods at night in these parts.”

  They reluctantly agreed to wait until morning to venture out, more to mollify Warren than out of any particular fear of the ghosts. Warren announced he would take the first watch since he was unable to sleep anyway, although he sounded a bit dismayed as he said it.

  That night everyone was restless. None of them, with the possible exception of Warren, truly believed in the stories of the ghosts, yet a lingering uneasiness pervaded over the camp. It was too dark to see much beyond the area illuminated by the dying coals of their fire, but Warren sat on a log trying to look in every direction at once. At every gust of wind or rustle of a foraging animal in the bushes, Warren would whimper and jump up, peering into the darkness with his sword clutched in both hands. After a while, he would sit back down and go back to his nervous watch of the surrounding darkness.

  Aldrick was constantly awakened by the fuss Warren was making, and eventually gave up, taking his turn at watch and telling Warren to get some sleep. At one point, he thought he spotted a patch of whiteness against the black of the forest, but it flashed by and then was gone. The rest of his shift passed uneventfully, although he did make certain his swords were loose in their scabbards. Not that he believed in ghosts of course, but a little caution had served him well on more than one occasion.

  The following morning everyone was groggy and grumpy. As they finished breakfast and were preparing to depart, Aldrick thought he spotted another flash of white out of the corner of his eye, this time in broad daylight. Once again, the blur quickly disappeared, and seeing nothing more, he finished checking the saddle on his horse. The apparition was likely just a wolf or trick of the eye; certainly nothing important enough to bring to the attention of the others. Still, he remained as watchful as he could manage for the remainder of the day, having had a less than restful night.

  Aldrick saw nothing unusual for the rest of the day, although he was not as alert as he would have liked. Garrick spent most of the afternoon teasing Warren about the ghosts that were going to invade their campsite that evening and carry them all off to Urkalla. Warren tried to laugh halfheartedly, but he glanced often at the edges of the road with a nervous expression.

  That night they went to sleep around the embers of the fire, with Warren shivering in his blankets, even though the late summer night air was still pleasant. Aldrick yawned when Garrick, who had taken first watch, woke him for his shift. Rubbing his eyes and trying to wake up, he stumbled over to a large rock that was near to their campsite and sat down, trying to get comfortable.

  They had found a clearing not far from the road, and the sky was open to the stars, which glittered above like jewels. The young moon had risen while he slept, and the glowing crescent illuminated the campsite. Aldrick took a deep breath; it was a pleasant summer night, and the light from above was welcoming. Yawning widely, he found his thoughts turning to his family and he smiled.

  The crescent of the moon came closer as he seemed to drift above the campsite. He looked down on the sleeping bodies of his companions as he rose above them. The darkness surrounding their fragile camp pushed against the flickering light of the last embers of their fire. A shiver ran down his spine as he watched the darkness closing in.

  Suddenly shapes appeared, seeming to spring out of the very ground. White smudges against the blackness of the night, the forms began encircling the camp. At first the ghostly shapes spun and danced like vapor, but soon they coalesced into recognizable figures. Aldrick had been in a relaxed state as he thought of his family and watching the apparitions, but now he realized they were approaching the camp with hostile intent.

  He willed himself to approach, and he swooped lower, coming face to face with the closest of the invaders. The spinning fog abruptly took human shape, with the head of the creature taking the appearance of a grinning demon. Wild eyed and hairless, the ghost observed his approach with a pair of sunken yellow eyes. Behind him three more forms coalesced out of the blackness, drawing gleaming weapons of liquid metal in the shape of knives.

  Without thought he drew his swords. His own weapons clashed with the silvery flashes of their ethereal attacks. One ghost burst into a screeching vapor, and Aldrick seamlessly defended against another. He spotted Warren awake out the corner of one eye, but the flailing man dodged a strike from a ghost and stumbled and fell against the large rock.

  Aldrick struck quickly and two more ghosts evaporated like mist. The yellow-eyed demon remained, its face contorted like a beast as it screamed at him. Raising its glittering weapon, the demon abruptly sprang at him with a snarl.

  Aldrick blinked and was abruptly fully awake. Lit by the shining silver moon, the figure dashing towards him was clearly not a demon, but a man covered in a white sheen, like soot or paint. His face, rather than contorted like a raging beast, was angry but grimly focused on his attack. In silence, the killer thrust his large knife towards Aldrick, attempting to disembowel him.

  Aldrick knocked the knife aside with one sword, and stabbed into the side of the attacker with the other. The alabaster smeared attacker gasped, his eyes opening wide, before he fell to his knees and collapsed. Aldrick scanned the ground and saw three other ‘ghosts’ that he had somehow managed to dispatch while having his vision. Warren was passed out on the ground as well near the large rock.

  Aldrick knelt and examined the prone man; his pulse was strong but he had a large bump on his forehead. He must have wakened to see the attack, Aldrick thought, but fallen and been knocked out in his rush to avoid being struck. So quick and quiet was the fight, that the rest of the group was still fast asleep.

  The following morning, just as the first tinge of light was creeping into the sky above, Garrick awoke to find Aldrick sitting on the nearby boulder, eating an apple. The bodies of the four strange bleached men were stretched out near the horses.

  Garrick stood and stretched. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that these apparitions have been painted white.”

  Aldrick tossed the core of his apple into the woods and hopped down from his rocky perch. “You would be correct.”

  “I take it you managed to catch yourself a few
ghosts?”

  “They attacked in the middle of the night. I can only speculate whether they are ghosts now, but they weren’t last night when I stuck my swords into them.”

  “Nice work. I’m sure Warren is…” Garrick paused when he caught sight of the still prone Warren stretched out by the fire. “Is he…?”

  “He’s fine. Bump on the head is all. I’m certain he’ll have a fine headache when he wakes.”

  Garrick knelt down beside his unconscious friend to examine the lump on his forehead.

  “Fortunately our ‘ghosts’ here did not have a chance to do more than knock Warren down before I was able to stop them.”

  “You think they were working by themselves?”

  “I doubt it. I would guess a group of bandits is taking advantage of the ghost rumors to work this area without fear of reprisal. Who is going to come out and arrest ghosts?”

  “When I get back, I will need to do something about that,” Garrick decided. “We can’t have ghost thieves running around doing whatever they please. This business of being king is hard work.” At Aldrick’s smile, Garrick glanced around the campsite with a searching gaze. “We still have one significant problem, however.”

  Aldrick glanced over from checking the horses. “What’s that?”

  Garrick looked up with a doubtful expression. “With Warren still unconscious, who is going to make breakfast?”

  Chapter 10

  “Oh, my head,” Warren groaned.

  “Rise and shine my sleepy friend,” Garrick grinned. “How do you feel? Are you well enough to travel?”

  “I’m not dead?” Warren managed.

  “Obviously. Can you stand up?”

  “I feel dead,” Warren mumbled, lying back down with a moan.

  “At least you’d be more agreeable,” the king chuckled. “You have until Lewin finishes trussing up the rabbits he caught this morning. Then we are leaving.” Garrick returned to tying his blanket roll onto the back of his horse.

  Warren struggled to sit up with another loud groan, and then squeaked when he saw the white corpses laid out near the horses. “What happened?”

  Garrick finished securing his pack. “Aldrick caught some of your ghosts. Fortunately, you fell and knocked yourself out before they could cut you with their ‘ghostly blades’.” Lewin, finishing the straps on the rabbits, joined the king in a laugh.

  Aldrick and Elior appeared out of the trees leading two scrawny and weary looking horses by the reins. “We found these horses tied to a tree not far from the road,” Aldrick said, before seeing Warren sitting up with his head in his hands. “Good morning Warren, how are you feeling?”

  “I may live,” Warren muttered, fingering the lump on his head and moaning.

  “These animals have seen better days,” Garrick noted. Stepping over to take a look at them, he retrieved a couple of apples from one of the packs, and fed them to the shy animals, one a white mare and the other a brown gelding. They were quite reticent at first but warmed up quickly after discovering the crimson fruit. Before long Garrick was stroking the nose of the mare and making soothing sounds.

  “You’ve made a couple of friends,” Aldrick smiled.

  “We’ll take them with us,” Garrick decided. “Our ghosts won’t be needing them anymore,” he added with a laugh.

  Aldrick patted the neck of the gelding. “They shouldn’t carry anyone for now, but with food and rest they should recover.”

  Garrick got a mischievous grin. “Warren will take care of them, won’t you?”

  Warren groaned. “Who’s going to take care of me?”

  Breaking camp, they finished packing and mounted up, walking the horses back onto the main road.

  Later that morning, Warren was riding next to Aldrick when he stopped and pointed through the trees. It was approaching High Sun, and the blue sky was nearly cloudless: one of the last perfect days of summer. Through the gap they could clearly see one of the constructed rock formations Warren had described. Once it may have served as the tomb of a lost civilization, but now a thin trail of smoke rose lazily from the ancient crypt into the clear azure sky.

  “I’ve never heard of ghosts needing a fire before,” Lewin laughed.

  “Me either,” Garrick said with a grimace. “That confirms that our visitors from last night still have friends out here.”

  The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, with the group riding quietly, until late in the afternoon when Aldrick broke the silence. “Warren, what kind of help will we be asking of your family?”

  “My father runs a shipping company in Erimar. He moves goods all over the Kannes region, but one of his main trade routes runs between Erimar and Karkerech. We should be able to accompany one of my father’s merchant trains and slip into Karkerech unnoticed.”

  “Very well,” Aldrick mused. “What about getting a look at this army encampment?”

  Garrick joined them. “We’ll decide that, once we get there.”

  “Don’t forget that my family knows you as Prince Garrick of Illyria, and not as King Gilmoure,” Warren added.

  Garrick frowned. “True, but I’m certain that either name will cause me problems while I’m in Illyria. Perhaps I should use another name while I’m there.”

  “A third name?” Aldrick sputtered.

  They saw no more signs of bandits masquerading as ghosts, and late the next afternoon they rode onto Warren’s family estate, situated just outside the city of Erimar. The main grounds of the estate were rural enough to be well away from the hustle and bustle of the city, yet close enough that travel to the city for shopping or managing the family business was still convenient.

  The estate was not overly large, as Bryce was the first noble in his family line. He had made his own fortune with his successful shipping business and then risen to the nobility, rather than having inherited it. In palace politics, those nobles born with the title often referred to a new noble like Bryce as a ‘country noble’, or some other less than complimentary appellation. Even though the grounds were not as expansive as some of the older estates, nor were the buildings as extravagant and grandiose as those belonging to other nobles, everything here was well kempt and immaculate. The beauty of the estate was a testament to the pride in accomplishment of its owner.

  Sculptured shrubbery and late summer blooming flowers lined the gravel road leading up to the main manor, and in the temperate early evening bird calls commingled with the song of crickets. There was a sense of peace and serenity imbued in the gardens and lawns, surrounding the main house.

  They were approaching the front door when it swung open and a young girl bounded out to greet them. Her long strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a bright blue ribbon, which matched the color of her eyes. She was on the cusp of adulthood, a fact made clear by the way she filled out her flowing crimson dress. The dress itself was of a proper cut, yet the bright color matched her lush red lips. Her lithe figure, along with her pretty face, would have drawn the attention of nearly any young man.

  “Warren!” she cried out in a cheerful, lilting voice. “You’re finally here!”

  Warren hopped down from his horse and embraced her. “Cailyn, how are you?”

  While they embraced, Garrick leaned over to Aldrick and grinned. “If this goes on much longer, I may get jealous.”

  The rest dismounted and Warren made the obligatory introductions. “Everyone, this is my sister Cailyn.”

  After he had introduced Garrick, Cailyn gushed in a fast excited voice. “Oh, Prince Garrick, it is incredible to meet you. It is such an honor to have you here at our home. I’ve been dying to meet you!”

  Garrick bowed low, and taking her hand he replied with a winsome smile, “The pleasure is all mine, my dear. Warren failed to mention he had an angel for a sister.”

  Cailyn giggled and blushed to nearly the color of her dress. “I see everything we’ve heard about you is true.”

  Garrick put a hand to his chest in mock surprise.
“You shouldn’t believe vile rumors, my dear.”

  “You can believe every word Cailyn,” Warren cut in. “And don’t even think about it Garrick, my sister is barely out of pigtails!”

  “Don’t belittle me brother,” Cailyn scolded. “I’m a grown woman now.”

  “Clearly she is a grown woman now Warren,” Garrick teased. “That much seems quite obvious.”

  “Stay away from her,” Warren growled, and stormed off towards the front entrance of the manor.

  Garrick gave Aldrick his most innocent look. “What did I do?”

  Cailyn took his arm and murmured, “Come inside all of you. You’re just in time for dinner.”

  Servants arrived to take the horses. Lewin and Elior accompanied them to help with the animals, and to secure their belongings. Aldrick and Garrick were escorted into a beautifully decorated dining room, and everyone sat at a long, immaculately laid out table, with Bryce seated at the head. Tall and gaunt with thinning gray hair, his personality seemed as rigid as his posture. Warren’s mother had short mousey hair with a thin mouth, and a judgmental glint in her eye. Neither one had much to say during the meal other than giving hushed orders to the servants. They all but ignored their guests other than an occasional surreptitious glance.