Rise of Darkness (The Watchers Book 2)

by M. Lee Holmes

  Lord Ivran and Hadrian sat in the front and took up the oars that had been carelessly tossed into the boat. They passed them to the rear for Protector Thomelin to take. He grabbed both oars then sat directly behind Rhada. She could feel his steely eyes fixed on her, burning her flesh from behind. She could hear him chuckling as well, finding too much joy in her predicament.

  “You are in charge until I return.” Lord Ivran said to Protector Raibyr and Raibyr bowed courteously to him, as though Ivran already wore the crown upon his head.

  Lord Doran shuffled to the rear of the boat with Protector Raibyr and grasped it firmly. Both men began to push the small skiff through the gritty sand. Lord Doran waited until they were knee deep in the ocean before pulling himself into the boat and taking a seat next to Protector Thomelin who handed him one of the oars once he was situated.

  Lord Doran and Protector Thomelin lifted their oars and with a succinct rhythm, began paddling out across the strait. The water was much calmer than Rhada anticipated and she wondered what had happened to the harsh waves they had seen only moments ago.

  She looked down and studied the small boat they were confined to. The wood was old and had begun to rot. A small hole in the bottom allowed a spray of water to jet up between her feet with each stroke of the oar. She wondered how long this boat had sat idly at the shore. She knew there was only one boat for transporting prisoners and it was always tied to the main continent. That way, there was no possible chance for any prisoner to escape. Should they manage to free themselves from their prison cell- which Rhada had never heard of any one being able to do- they certainly would drown if they tried to swim across, back into Kaena. Once the prisoner was secured on the island and the boat began to sail away, all hope was lost.

  “I am told that it takes two hours to sail across the strait.” Lord Ivran said, breaking the silence. “And Protector Raibyr said to make certain to continue as straight on as possible and we shall not miss the island. The fortress lies to the north so if we do happen to drift a bit, it will not be hard to turn and head that way. We will let the shore of Stonewater Isle lead the way.”

  “Aye, aye.” Lord Doran replied as if he was a sailor. He pressed his oar deep into the water and let out a soft grunt as he pushed the boat forward. Rhada turned her head and watched as the oars dipped into the water, pushed and were pulled out once again. She watched them repeat this pattern over and over, unable to think of anything except the fact that each stoke of the oar was bringing her closer to her prison.

  Chapter 37

  Darkness weighed down upon the men in the boat like a heavy blanket. It wrapped its cruel arms around them, shielding them from any glimmer of light that might try to reach their eyes. It drifted up from the black waters of the Shattered Sea and filled the small boat with its uncertainty- uncertainty of where they were going. It seeped into the thick fog in which they drifted, making it impossible to see the waters ahead. The only light that touched them was that of their tiny lantern Hadrian had brought, and even its brightness was being choked out by the looming dark. And with each wave that splashed against the side of the skiff, the light was in danger of being extinguished. Hadrian held the lantern as close to his body as he could, protecting the flickering flame from the cold waters of the Shattered Sea.

  They sailed on in utter silence, afraid the sound of their voices would draw the attention of some unknown danger lurking in the fog.

  Every man in the boat could feel their uneasiness grow with each stroke of the oar. They wondered if the oar’s strokes were leading them towards the island that was their destination or if they were being dragged out to sea to become lost in the fog forever.

  Rhada shivered under the spray of sea water that splashed against the side of the skiff and into her face. She could not wipe away the sting of the salt water in her eyes with her hands so she closed them tightly and waited for the burning to dissolve.

  “My Lord,” Lord Doran called up to Ivran, “perhaps we should turn back and wait for this retched fog to vanish!”

  Lord Ivran spun in his seat and glowered back at Lord Doran’s suggestion. His eyes burned with deranged fury.

  “No!” He shouted back. “We are getting close- I can feel it.” He turned his eyes out towards the open sea and seemed to be peering through the darkness with a gift of sight the rest of them did not possess.

  “Row straight and true!” He shouted back to Lord Doran and Protector Thomelin. “Our destination is not far.”

  As he spoke these words, a wave of angry water struck their boat, knocking it sideways and making everyone inside lurch from their seats. Lord Doran and Protector Thomelin held fast to their oars, hoping to not drop them into the raging sea. Rhada was thrown into Emeric’s side, hitting her cheek on his shoulder. Emeric had been able to brace himself with his left hand against the side of the skiff. He helped push her back to a sitting position.

  Lord Ivran had been the only person in the boat not affected by the wave. He sat tall and strong, like a rock the waves beat upon but do not move.

  Then another wave came, hitting on the same side as the first. Rhada braced herself this time and was thrust towards Emeric once again but she stiffened her back and stopped herself from hitting him.

  She sat up tall and turned her eyes out towards the blackness of the sea, not wanting to look at any of them. Instead of the black waters touching the black skies, shrouded in a blanket of fog that she expected to see, she saw an even blacker mass, floating off in the distance. She could see the whites of the waves where they broke against its perimeter and even the fog seemed to give up hope of penetrating its solid walls.

  Four large spires, as tall as the eye could see, loomed above them, penetrating the sky like swords into an enemy’s flesh. The fortress itself was covered in the dark of night but the outline of it could clearly be seen through the now thinning fog. It was a castle, larger than the castle of Axendra.

  Stonehill was nestled into a cove on the northern edge of Stonewater Isle. Long ago, it was once a fortress of esteem and beauty. It housed all the royal families and persons of prestige who came to visit Kaena. Its reputation was that of a beautiful fortress, just off the coast of Kaena, where anyone who could afford it could stay on holiday. Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies, Protectors, Priests and Priestesses, anyone who had enough gold to buy a room at the vacation palace was welcome. The entire island had been laid out to cater to those with a higher standard of living. Carriages waited on hand, day or night, to take the guests to the village Stonewater. Stonewater was only a short ride down the hill where the guests would be greeted with market upon market. Only merchants wishing to scrape the gold from the royals’ hands lived and worked on Stonewater Isle, with the exception of some fishing crews who operated the galleys and a few farmers that were able to turn the measly soil of the island into fertile fields.

  In their day, Stonewater Isle and Stonehill were places of wealth and beauty, where only the rich and powerful were allowed to come and enjoy its amenities.

  Rhada had never seen Stonehill during those days, nor had anyone else who was now living. A massive wave had come crashing in from the sea without warning, destroying everything but the fortress. The city of Stonewater had been completely washed away from the island. Only the foundations of some of the stronger structures remained. The farms were destroyed and everyone on the island who had not been protected within the fortress’s walls had been washed away from this world as though they had never existed.

  As they rowed closer to the black edifice that now loomed over them, Rhada wondered how long it had been since the light of the sun had touched this place- as though the wave that had washed over the island a thousand years ago not only washed away the city and the people, but the sunlight as well, leaving a dark and festering mass of black rock.

  When it was decided that Stonewater village would not be rebuilt, Stonehill sat vacant for many years. It wasn’t until the War of the Witches that it was brought back into use
.

  Instead of royal families, Stonehill became home to the witches and wizards who were not sentenced to death. These were the accused who never had any proof brought against them but were still deemed potentially too dangerous to live in the outside world. Since then, Stonehill had become home to most criminals of the realm that were not immediately executed.

  And I am to be added to the countless many that have come before me. Rhada thought as she gazed upward, trying to find where the giant spires ended. Her search was futile. Midway up the spires, the fog gathered and thickened, blocking any sight of their jagged tips.

  When Rhada turned her gaze away from the sky, she found herself looking at the back of Lord Ivran’s head. She could not help the burning rage that grew inside of her and she knew that if it had not been so dark a night, everyone in the boat would be able to see her face redden.

  It is the Sorceress’s fault. She reminded herself, trying to direct some of her anger at Myranda, but her burning hatred for Lord Ivran remained. All I wished for was a clean, quick death. My years of living have already surpassed what a natural person’s life should be. Death does not frighten me. That was when she realized that Stonehill frightened her. She turned her eyes to the austere fortress that was now beginning to take form and she felt her body stiffen.

  Out of the darkness appeared a portcullis that had been buried underneath the water some years ago. Its iron gate lay in shambles against the jagged black rocks of the cliff’s edge, poisoning the water with its rusting façade. The portcullis itself was mostly hidden underneath water. What remained of an entrance was only a small sliver of stone archway that certainly would have been impassable with a high tide. As it was, they had to duck their heads to avoid getting knocked out of the skiff as they passed underneath.

  Rhada turned her head, desperately trying to get one last look at the outside world before the oars pushed her through the archway. Her eyes grasped for any sight of sky or star but all she could see were the thick, heavy clouds they had been sailing through for the last two hours and the black sea that rolled underneath them- and then everything was gone.

  She had not thought it possible, but the darkness around them grew as they passed through the gate. The solid stone walls of the fortress closed in and swallowed them up like a hungry whale. The coldness of the chamber exceeded the cold from outside, making Rhada shiver. She noticed Lord Ivran grasp at his cloak and pull it tight around his neck in an attempt to block himself from the chill that recoiled off the walls into their skiff.

  Along with the cold came a stillness that chilled Rhada to the very bone. There was no longer the sound of the crashing waves from the sea outside, nor was there any sound of the wailing wind that had plagued them for most of the day. Instead, there was silence. The only sound that could be heard in the stifling chamber was that of the oars slapping the water’s surface as they pushed the skiff forward and the sound of heavy, anxious breathing from her companions in the boat. Though the wind and the waves had been callous, she would gladly suffer them over the stale stillness of the chamber they now floated in.

  No one spoke as they drifted along. All eyes were gazing straight ahead, afraid of what their small boat was carting them towards. Rhada felt goose bumps prickle up her arms- not from the cold, but from fright. The deeper into the chamber they glided, the more furiously her heart began to pound. She swallowed hard, trying to swallow her fear but she could not shake it. She knew there was no point in denying how frightened she was. There was only one other time in her recent past she had felt fear such as the fear she felt now. She had felt it in Tyos, when the dark shadow emerged from the fog and wrapped her in its icy grip. This fear, however, was more crippling. She wanted to scream, she wanted to beg for Lord Ivran to take her back and execute her instead. She would have gladly accepted death over this stone chasm of anguish. She wanted to jump from the skiff and let herself sink into the abyss of the black waters below, never to emerge.

  But she did nothing.

  She sat stiff as a board on the wooden plank of the skiff and stared straight ahead, just like the others. She did not cry out or beg for mercy like she wanted to. Instead, she became stone, like the stone walls of the chamber. She hardened her skin and her gaze and even her breathing slowed. She allowed the darkness of the fortress to wash over her, giving herself to it freely.

  She knew she had lost all hope of escaping the terrible fate that awaited her. She had been taken prisoner by her enemies and her future was no longer in her own hands.

  Somewhere deep within the dark corridors of this perdition, is a small chamber that awaits my arrival- another soul for the gluttonous fiend of Stonehill.

  Suddenly, there was light in the chamber ahead. Rhada had to squint at the brightness as they approached two large wall torches burning with a fiery rage.

  They passed under another archway, this one larger than the first, and their small skiff came to a stop.

  The chamber was a small room where their path ended- enclosed by the same, slimy stones that made up the rest of the fortress. To the right was a set of small steps leading to a doorway with no door. Two wall sconces sat on either side of the opening and both had recently been lit by the looks of it; most likely in anticipation of her arrival.

  Lord Doran and Protector Thomelin pushed the boat forward with the oars until it bumped into the stairway. Hadrian immediately jumped out, as though he could not wait any longer to be rid of the boat, and grasped the edge of the boat, holding fast to the decomposing rope that was attached to a small peg on the front of the skiff. He pulled the rope carefully, trying his best to not fray the threads any more than they already were, and tied it tightly around a small, iron peg that had been driven into the soft stone. The peg itself did not belong in the middle of the steps. It had obviously been placed there specifically to anchor down this boat.

  The only way in or out of this infernal place.

  Lord Ivran stepped out next, careful not to get his boots wet. Then Emeric stood. He looked down to Rhada and she was shocked to see pity in his eye. She tried to ignore his gaze as he reached down and pulled her up by the arm. She stood on unstable legs as the boat rocked back and forth and let Emeric guide her safely onto the steps.

  It was strange to feel her feet touch solid ground. She had been on horseback for the past three days. She straightened her stiff legs and tried to enjoy the feel of blood rushing back into them- the tingling sensation of regaining strength. I must get my small pleasures while I still can.

  Emeric pushed her forward until she found herself standing face-to-face with Lord Ivran.

  The man was stoical, like a wall of hardened flesh. His gaze was hard and unforgiving as his eyes studied her. She suddenly felt like a child in his presence, weak and completely at his mercy. She had not experienced that feeling since her days at the orphanage, so many years ago- she had forgotten what an atrocious feeling it was. She could not help but shy away from him, collapsing her shoulders and turning to face the unoccupied doorway. She would look at anything, so long as it was not Lord Ivran.

  They waited for every man to leave the confines of the boat then stood motionless on the steps in silence.

  Rhada tried to stretch her wrists, hoping the bonds would loosen just a little. They had recently begun to itch and burn and as she twisted her hands, she could feel fresh blood rush to her fingers and drip from the tips. She stopped twisting, realizing that it was no use.

  “Where do we go from here, my Lord?” Hadrian asked. Rhada could hear the quivering fear in his voice and she wondered what he could possibly be afraid of. She was the one to be locked away for good, not him. Then she realized that this dismal place would make any man uneasy- any man except Lord Ivran it seemed. He stood tall and proud and reached out with one hand to grasp Rhada firmly by the arm but she recoiled at his touch, knowing that to him, she was a prize to be handed over to the warden. Lord Ivran noticed her objection to his touch and squeezed her arm hard, letting her know that he
would not let go.

  “We wait.” Lord Ivran said with a firm tone. “Daren will be here to meet us.”

  And so they waited. Rhada felt her heartbeat quicken its pace with each passing moment and she thought it would burst forth from her chest in a spray of blood. The stone walls around her began to pulse and seemed to be closing in, making her stomach queasy as she watched the room dance around her. Her feet began to feel weak and suddenly, her knees buckled underneath her. Rhada began to slip to the ground but Lord Ivran grasped her even tighter, pulling her back to her feet. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to regain her senses. The room is not spinning. You are imagining it, she tried telling herself but when she opened her eyes, the walls were still flowing around her in waves that resembled the waves of the sea.

  Suddenly, footsteps could be heard approaching- a pair of small, quiet feet, pattering closer and closer through the corridor that lie on the other side of the doorway, and a larger set of feet, pounding clumsily along.

  Rhada listened to the footsteps and thought she could feel the ground beneath her feet tremble as they approached. The pounding of the larger footsteps grew louder with each passing moment, making her wonder what sort of man could possibly have such a heavy footfall.

  Her question was quickly answered. Through the doorway stepped a tall, slender man, with beady, black eyes and a pointed nose. His hair (or what remained of it) fell down to his shoulders in small, greying locks that had obviously not had a hairbrush pulled through them in years. A foul smell preceded him into the chamber, making Rhada and all the men around her crinkle their noses in disgust.

  Then the giant came stumbling towards the door. His were the footsteps that caused the ground to tremble. He stood on the other side, blocking the entire doorway. From what Rhada could see, he was at least eight feet tall, with broad, heavy shoulders, thick, muscular thighs and large, round hands that were the size of two men’s heads put together. The giant bent down low to peer in through the doorway, unable to fit his massive body through the small opening. His face was not that of a normal man’s. Aside from being abnormally large, it was also round like the wheel of a carriage, and it was ugly. As much as she wanted to look away, Rhada could not peel her eyes off the giant’s hideous face. His eyes were like two swollen grapes that had been punctured. They popped out of his head as though the sockets were too small to hold them and oozed a slimy film down his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth. His mouth looked as though it was large enough to bite off a man’s head entirely- with puffy, round lips that cracked and could not seem to close. There was no hair on top of the giant’s head but there were plenty of scrapes and scabs. It seemed as though the giant often forgot how tall he was and kept running into things, providing him with fresh, new wounds on a daily basis.