The Key of Creation: Book 02 - Journey to Khodara

by M. D. Bushnell

  “That sounds like Jahann,” Aldrick whispered as they hid behind a dark cluster of trees. He felt renewed knowing they had found their objective.

  “Sounds like he’s having trouble finding what he’s looking for.” Garrick chuckled.

  “How many are there?”

  “I see seven,” Aelianna whispered, peering through the trees. “But it is dark. Could be more.”

  Garrick motioned to pull back, and they slowly retreated until they were out of earshot of the camp.

  “What is the plan?” Garrick whispered once they stopped, taking a deep breath.

  Aldrick looked to the darkening western sky. “We should wait until after dark. That will give us the advantage.”

  “Middle of night, is best surprise,” Aelianna suggested.

  “Agreed,” Aldrick nodded. “We should eat and get some sleep. It’s going to be a busy night.”

  They ate a cold meal in silence, not wanting to risk detection by starting a fire. Darkness settled in around them like a cloak while they finished eating, and with night came the cold of the clear mountain air. Even dressed in furs, they huddled under thin blankets to ward off the biting chill. Yet as cold as it was, it still felt good to rest and recover from their race up the mountain.

  The moon was peeking over the black outline of the mountains when Aelianna offered to take the first watch, so that the others could rest before attempting to retrieve the artifact. Aldrick was so filled with anticipation and anxiety over their proximity to their objective that he could not imagine being able to sleep. Yet so exhausted were he and the king, that it was not long before both had closed their eyes and were fast asleep.

  ***

  Aldrick struggled through a dark, jelly-like mire surrounded by a cloying blackness. He crawled through the darkness with no memory of what it was that he sought. Then he remembered his purpose; the key, the Clavis. He rose to his knees and struggled through the goo that held him back, keeping him from his objective.

  Before him a pinpoint of light abruptly appeared. It began to swell, growing larger and larger until it coalesced into a golden glow. He approached the light; or did the light approach him? He recognized that the scintillating light emanated from the shining, golden artifact itself. It called out to him, inaudibly, and yet clear as day. Miraculously it appeared before him, within his grasp.

  Aldrick slowly reached out for the pyramidal object, struggling against the heavy atmosphere surrounding him. He was about to take hold of the artifact, when a feminine arm appeared out of the dark and snatched the golden object away. Before he could react, the blackness around him began to tremble like a quake.

  ***

  Aldrick awoke to the sound of thunder. Its pealing echo rolled off the steep mountain walls surrounding them, slowly booming off into the distance. Still groggy from sleep, he gazed skyward to see the moon had moved surprisingly far across the clear starry sky. Startled, he sat up and looked around for the others, but in the dim light of the quarter moon, he could only see Garrick.

  “How long were we asleep?” Garrick asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “Quite some time, judging by the position of the moon,” Aldrick said, standing and looking around. “Where is Aelianna?”

  The ground trembled again, and a close bright flash of light was chased immediately by a resounding crash of thunder.

  Garrick jumped to his feet, and scanned the clear sky above. “That lightning is not natural.” He glanced about worriedly as if expecting the azure serpent to appear in the sky, but no sign of the creature was evident.

  “She’s gone after the artifact,” Aldrick realized with a start. “We must find her.”

  They were scrambling to pack their blankets, when Garrick abruptly paused and glanced northward. “We won’t have any trouble finding her.”

  Before Aldrick could respond, he heard a rustling, and Aelianna bounded through the trees and into the clearing. She was followed by another lightning blast, which struck much closer than the last. The ground under them shook so violently that they nearly lost their footing.

  “What are you doing?” Aldrick stammered.

  “Run!” was her only response as she leapt past them. Without pause, Garrick slung his pack over one shoulder and ran after her. Another blinding flash and deafening thunder-like roar, followed by the earth heaving beneath his feet, was all the persuasion Aldrick needed to follow.

  They panted in the thin air as they ran, stumbling in the dark, and dodging stunted trees and boulders. Fortunately, the rest Aldrick had received had been enough to reinvigorate him, and he was able to keep up with the fleeing warrior. Flashes of light and crashing thunder echoed closely behind them as they ran.

  He could not imagine what sort of storm they were running from. The way bolts of lightning flashed and thunder roared, always moving in their direction, did not feel at all natural. And there was no rain accompanying the storm, nor did Aldrick feel any moisture in the air. Yet he had seen the anxiety on the face of the warrior, and clearly this aberrant thunderstorm was chasing them down the mountain.

  Another flash, and thunder pealed loudly behind them. While still close, Aldrick thought it sounded as if the blast had been further behind them than before. The warrior did not slow her escape, if anything she seemed to go faster as they reached an open stretch of ground. Aldrick cursed as he struggled to keep up with the others.

  Another flash, and Aldrick was now certain that the storm was definitely falling behind them. He whispered a quick thanks to the All Father. At this extreme altitude, his regained strength was quickly fading, and he panted and gasped for air. He felt a stitch in his lungs, and he was beginning to feel an increasingly intense pain in his knees and legs.

  They reached a dark, steep ledge and Aldrick begged between gasps of air, “Stop! Aelianna stop!”

  The warrior had already slowed, and came to a stop, wiping sweat from her brow even in the cold mountain air. “What happened?” Aldrick managed to ask.

  “Wizard chase us with storm.”

  “Jahann cannot be responsible for this.”

  “Always you say ‘cannot’. You tell this to wizard, maybe he stop.”

  “There isn’t a cloud in the sky, Aldrick,” Garrick added.

  Aldrick glanced at the sky in confirmation, and then pointed a finger at the warrior. “You stole the artifact!”

  He expected an argument, but Aelianna simply nodded. “I need Clavis, save my people. I get thing I need.”

  “You had no intention of returning to us, did you?”

  Garrick gave him a hard look, but Aelianna only shrugged. “We must get away. Wizard not let us go with Clavis.”

  “We must be far ahead of Jahann by now,” Aldrick surmised.

  “Wizard can follow,” Aelianna said, as if to a child.

  “Listen!” Garrick interjected.

  “I don’t hear the thunder anymore.” Aldrick said, but whirled about when a whining howl began to echo off the dark canyon walls. A cold wind abruptly ripped through the stunted trees from the north, and the temperature began to drop rapidly.

  “What is happening?”

  “I say this, wizard not let us go with Clavis. We must run!”

  Aldrick started to argue, but the others were already scrambling down the steep cliff. The temperature continued to drop as they descended, and by the time they had reached the bottom, it was snowing.

  “I definitely think we should take her advice and run!” Garrick yelled back over one shoulder.

  Aldrick could not understand how this was possible, other than magic, which he did not wish to contemplate at the moment. Yet, he did not wish to fall behind, and so he sprinted to keep up, while breathing hard. The snow increased in both speed and volume, and they had not gone far before the way ahead was completely obscured by the blinding frozen precipitation. He was realizing he could no longer see the others when he abruptly bumped into Garrick, who was holding onto Aelianna.

  “We can no longer run haphaz
ardly!” Garrick shouted to be heard over the roar of the biting wind. This is turning into a blizzard. We must seek shelter!”

  “We must not stop!” Aelianna shouted back, one hand protecting her eyes from the blinding snow. “Wizard find us!”

  “We will lose each other in this,” Aldrick said, but the driving wind whipped his words away.

  “What?”

  “We’ll be lost!” He shouted. The storm was now so intense that the driving snow was nearly horizontal and howling winds sucked the very air away from his lungs.

  “We….shelter!” Garrick yelled, but even clinging to each other as they were, the storm was now in full force, and Aldrick could barely hear him.

  It may have been Aelianna who pulled them ahead; he could no longer see anything around them. Snow was already piling up about them, and the entire world surrounding them was a blanket of white. Aldrick squinted desperately to protect his vision. This storm was like nothing he had ever experienced.

  He clung to Garrick’s arm as they stumbled forward. With no reference point, it was difficult to say if they were even moving forward. This was madness; they could be walking in a circle, or off the edge of a cliff and never know it. The temperature inexplicably continued to drop, and Aldrick realized he could no longer feel his feet. His fingers felt frozen as well, and he was having trouble holding onto Garrick’s sleeve. Squinting into the blizzard he could no longer see the king, only his sleeve.

  Desperately he tried to bend his fingers and readjust his hold on his only anchor in the storm, but in doing so he lost his grip. Aldrick watched in horror as the sleeve pulled away from him in slow motion. Strangely, his numb feet no longer had contact with the ground, and then he was falling. He fell through a world of nothing but blinding white for what seemed an eternity, before the white was solid. He grunted with the impact and felt pain through the numbness. Aldrick could not say if he had fallen off a section of cliff, or if the ground had come up to meet him. The difference did not seem to matter anymore.

  Aldrick’s last thought as the blinding white faded into eternal blackness was of how much he missed Jelénna.

  Chapter 21

  Jelénna screamed and sat up with a start. She looked about the dark stone walls of her room in terror until she realized that she was safe, in bed, in the palace of Akkadia. She blinked back tears and forced a shuddering breath, trying to calm her wildly beating heart. Never in her life had she experienced a dream, nay a nightmare, as vivid and terrifying as the one she had just undergone.

  Unlike the darkness she normally associated with dreams and the night, this nightmare had taken place on a field of white. In it, her husband had frantically called out to her. Unlike her normal dreams, the ones that she treasured and enjoyed, he had not called out to her in love, but in terror. He had been…dying.

  Jelénna leaned back against her pillows and sniffed. It was just a dream she thought, wiping the wetness from her eyes. It was just a dream. It had to be. Her husband was strong and very intelligent, and traveled in the company of experienced, hardy men. The lateness of his return from Karkerech in Illyria was causing her anxiety, and all that worry had led to a nightmare, nothing more. He would return soon, alive and well, and they would go home and be a happy family once more. She forced a smile, thinking of their home in Ubarra. She would concentrate on the happy day of his return, and not allow herself to remember the snow-blinded image of his death. No, it was just a dream.

  Needing consolation and knowing she would be unable to sleep, Jelénna retrieved a candle from the wooden table beside the bed. She slipped into her robe and lit the candle from a small glowing ember left in the stone fireplace. Feeling a sudden knot of worry in her stomach for Adrias, she hurried to the small room where he slept.

  With an inexplicable sense of dread, Jelénna pushed open the wooden door to his room with a creak. In the dim glow of the candle, she could see Adrias lying peacefully in his bed with a content smile on his face. She felt a wave of relief watching his serene slumber. Satisfied that what she had felt was simple anxiety from her nightmare, she gently kissed his forehead and turned back to the door.

  She lifted the handle and began to pull the door open when she heard her son mumble a single word in his sleep. That lone word sent a chill down her spine, and frightened her more than the horrifying dream she had just had. Even though the door of his bedroom had creaked as her son had spoken, she was still almost certain she had heard the solitary word correctly: ‘Die’.

  ***

  Brodan sat in the near dark, dried tears streaking the dirt that stained his cheeks. He wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of the chamber pot; it was strange how he was almost used to the pungent odor of the place, and yet he could never quite get acclimated to it. Safe to say that life in the dungeon was an acquired taste. He chuckled at the thought, although he did not find it all that amusing.

  It had been quiet down here for several days now, with the exception of the guards that brought him his regular meals. Aldrick had been gone for some time now, and good riddance to the traitor anyway. Tiberius had stopped visiting him however, which he found he had mixed feelings about. He certainly wished to see both traitors pay for their various crimes. He especially wanted to see Aldrick hang for his betrayal, and possibly his father as well. And yet, there was a strange and very faint feeling somewhere deep inside him that missed those visits.

  He was considering whether to chase the large rat that was eyeing him suspiciously, or to forget about the pesky rodent and simply take a nap, when he heard footsteps descending the stone stairs. He had just had lunch, and was not expecting dinner to be delivered for some time yet. His heart leapt in anticipation with the sudden footfalls. Perhaps the unexpected visitor would be Tiberius.

  He did not miss the old man of course; any feelings of friendship he had ever felt for that traitor had been replaced by pure hatred. Still, the company of anyone would be welcome at this point, and if nothing else the visit would give him the chance to give the old man a peace of his mind. He longed to tell him how wrong they had been about him.

  When the visitor appeared in the dim flickering light of his single torch, Brodan was surprised to see it was not the old man he had been expecting. Instead it was one of the regular guards.

  “Aren’t you usually on the morning shift?”

  “Yes, my liege,” the guard whispered, glancing about the darkness of the cell.

  “What do you want?”

  “I am here to inform you that there are a group of us who believe in you. Word has spread that our new king is actually an Illyrian spy, and we are gaining members all the time. Our goal is to find a way to overthrow this usurper, and free you. We believe that you are the true king.

  Brodan smiled for the first time in quite a while. There was a glint of hope in his eyes as he repeated the last words the guard had spoken. “The true king.”

  ***

  Phalstave bit his lip as he waited outside the grand doors leading into the throne room. Once more he found himself where he least wished to be. Yet the possibility of ingratiating himself to his master with the news he carried was too great a temptation to pass by. And so he had made the arduous journey to Kishen once more, knowing full well he was perhaps as likely to face the wrath of the shadow mage, as to receive his due recognition.

  The guards opened the great doors with a rusty squeal, and Phalstave hesitantly walked towards the throne. Sargon adjusted his robe as he slunk in from a side room, eyeing the trembling man the entire time. The shadow mage reached the imposing basalt throne and turned, his eyes glittering with a mysterious hunger.

  “Where is the boy?”

  Phalstave swallowed hard, and his eyes widened in fear. He slowly shook his head, and unconsciously took a step back. Several guards surrounding the room grasped the hilts of their weapons and stepped forward, as if sensing the failure of the nervous man, and the inevitable order that would follow from the mage. In a moment of uncontrollable panic, Phalstave l
ost what little fortitude he had, and turned and ran for the door.

  Sargon gestured at the guards by the doors to the throne room, and sat down on the throne with a sigh. “Why must I always be surrounded by fools and cowards?”

  Phalstave stumbled and fell before reaching the door. Two scowling, burly guards grabbed him roughly under the arms and hauled him towards the throne. They spun him around to face the shadow mage, and one of the men grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look forward.

  Sargon looked upon the blubbering man with contempt. “Why then did you travel all this way? You should have simply killed yourself and spared me the trouble.”