by Cole Pain
A small smile reached his lips. He touched the thread and felt her, his Kyra, existing inside him.
Although he felt her he knew it would never be the same. His smile withered. She remembered their love with blissfulness. He remembered it with longing and need. It hurt, but as he looked at her his spirits rose. The Quy, pure beauty, had once been his bride, not out of necessity but out of love. That love had been the catalyst to birth the power.”
“Take these,” she said, placing the stones in his hand. “You can strengthen them even further. They’re replete with love and pain, but they aren’t saturated. You can make them stronger when you form the fated stone. Your sword is the catalyst that can accomplish that end. It has turned black. Your purpose is to go and use it. Find the other defender who can form the stone. Once the stone is formed, its magic will draw you to the one with need. Then you can save me from the darkness.”
Aaron’s mind reeled. Strengthen the stones? Find the other? Save her from the darkness?
As he opened his mouth to speak, Kyra began to fade from vision.
“But how will I know?”
“You will know, my love,” she said, brushing her lips against his. “You will know.”
Aaron watched her fade, desperate to stop her, but paralyzed by her kiss. It shivered through him like the morning mist, brushing each nerve with tantalizing sensuality.
Only when the last silver fleck had disappeared from the air did he open his palm to study the stones. They were perfectly formed, blinding in their brilliance. As he held his former feelings in his palm he sensed their power and wondered how he had been able to survive with those emotions inside, and how they could become any more saturated. He felt the power in his sword as well. Where would he find a man with righteous hate, a man who could form the stone?
He placed the stones in his belt pouch, thanking the Maker he wouldn’t be the one to bear the burden of wielding them when they were complete. Whoever it was had to be far stronger than anything the Lands had ever seen.
Chapter 11
Ren woke with a start, the dream slowly fading from vision. His heart banged hard against his chest. The darkness had been reaching out to claim him. He had fought it, slashing the air as the black cloud came closer, but his resistance only made the cloud stronger, and when the black mist touched him the fingers of hate and greed wrapped around his spirit. He tried to pull back, but the darkness was too strong. Slowly, he had started to change.
He reached up and touched his face, ensuring himself the dream wasn’t reality. It had felt like a thousand maggots were sluicing underneath his skin, but it had been his own face bubbling, forming into something else. Ren tried to calm his rapid breath as he recalled the painting of Barracus in the Oracle. He shivered on the cold ground. He would do anything to repudiate that horror.
A twig snapped. The kota came awake and sniffed the air with rabid intensity. Ren tensed, fearful the Adderiss had returned, but he heard no further movement, only a deepening silence.
Ren tried to see through the darkness, but the twin moons had vanished behind the clouds. He could only see past the first shadows of the surrounding trees. He tried to hear something to give him an indication as to where the threat would come, but all he sensed were hard eyes peering through the trees.
Blood pounded in his temples. He was tired of surprises and tired of death. At the thought of Bentzen and Markum something ignited within him. Enough was enough.
Ren jumped to his feet and drew his sword. The dragon’s eyes glowed with his rage: one pair white, the other dark: two sides of the spectrum; two beings he could become. Which will it be, Chosen?
He ignored the voice and culminated the anger inside him. The black eyes pulsated with power. Ren made two arcs in the air and settled into an attack stance.
“Show yourself!” he demanded to the night.
The camp immediately came alive. He heard the soft release of swords. The tip of Neki’s curved blade entered his peripheral vision, glimmering in the light of the twin moons. The ruby glowed with brilliant intent: luck in battle. But the emerald, the stone to ward off evil doings, was torpid.
Although the torpid stone should have brought Ren comfort, it did not. The hairs on his head stood on end. For precious heartbeats only the sound of crickets greeted them. Ren studied the trees directly in front of him, sensing something. Ren gripped his sword tighter.
Three men appeared out of the depths of the forest. They were robed in gray cowls, long hoods shielding their faces from vision. They held their hands below their chins. Only the tips of their fingers touched, leaving a chasm exposed to the air, symbolizing an unanswered prayer.
Ren stood in silence as the three Druids released their unanswered prayer and lowered their hoods. Three pairs of eyes focused on Ren: one set dark, one set light, the other a murky brown. In the Druid fashion their heads were shaved except for one long strand of ebony hair starting at the top of their skulls and descending to the base of their necks. Their skin was dark, almost almond in color, and blended into the night. Once unveiled, their hands returned to their unanswered prayer position.
The dark-eyed leader stepped forward. He wore a thin mustache, signifying his importance. Only those high in the Druid ranks were allowed to sprout any hair beside their jet-black tufts.
He was tall, almost three hand spans taller than the others, and well built, with kind, intelligent eyes. Ren had only seen a few Druids in his life, but he had seen enough to know the dark-eyed Druid was an exception of his kind. Druids were slight men with fragile bones and less masculine features.
The other two Druids fit Ren’s remembrance: small men with hard eyes. The one with the murky brown gaze reminded Ren of a petty thief he had once caught in the castle. There was no love in those eyes, only greed and envy. The third had no distinct features. If Ren hadn’t been looking at him he might have gone unnoticed.
Ren’s eyes flickered back to the leader.
The leader gave a small nod of greeting. “You’re the Chosen.” His voice was so deep it almost shook Ren’s bones. “You must come with us. The One is waiting for you at the Obelisk.”
Ren blinked in shock. The Obelisk, the temple of the Druids, resided on the Druid island of Dresden. Ren stared into the leader’s eyes. They held no malice, no deception, only a profound desire to help. But why would the One be with Druids? Animosity between wizards and Druids had been waging for centuries. The Druids would shut the One from the power faster than dragons could spew fire.
Galvin stepped past Ren, casually resting his broadsword on one shoulder. “Ren isn’t going anywhere.” Although Galvin looked nonchalant he gripped the sword so hard his knuckles were white. “You don’t have the One any more than I have the One. Be on your way.”
Ren put a hand on Galvin’s shoulder, indicating for him to hold his position. The Druids remained impassive. Their eyes never veered from Ren.
“Why would a wizard be with Druids?” Ren asked.
“Safety for him and safety for you. I believe you’re hunted, yes?” the leader asked, raising one eyebrow. “The Obelisk is the only place no one will search. It’s the only place your enemy won’t go.”
The leader’s voice resonated in a droning timbre. Ren had to concentrate to understand where one word ended and the other began. Druids were known to be sedate, their meditations running together even in waking movement, but the leader seemed more tranquil than most.
“Why should I believe you? What proof do you have?”
The small, greedy-looking one scowled. “Aren’t we proof enough, Chosen? A Druid hasn’t been out of the Obelisk in years.”
The leader released his “prayer” and held one hand in the air, demanding silence. His dark eyes turned to Ren. “Forgive Avalon. He is too defensive of our line.” He paused. “We have no proof to give. The proof is inside you.”
Galvin shifted with impatient energy. His silver teardrop danced with fury. The three Druids didn’t even bat an eye in hi
s direction.
Neki raised an eyebrow. “If you have the One why didn’t he come with you?”
Avalon was about to say something but decided against it. The leader’s eyes flickered to Neki and studied him in silence. He glanced at Neki’s sword, eyes betraying slight emotion, but when he looked back at Ren the Druid once again wore a calm mask.
“The One is the One, meaning he’s the only one. If he were killed where would that leave the Chosen? The One is safe in the Obelisk. He needs you to come to him. That’s the only way.”
Although what the leader said made sense, Ren’s gut told him something was amiss. He had learned to trust his instincts long ago. But it would be next to impossible for the Druids to know about the One unless he was actually there.
“What will the One do?”
The animosity in Galvin’s voice surprised Ren. He turned to look at his friend. Galvin stood as if the forces of the Abyss were trying to claim him.
The leader’s gaze lingered on Galvin. “Insist the Chosen go behind the door.”
“Morrus!” Avalon exclaimed.
Morrus held up his hand for silence. “I won’t lie to him, Avalon. What he has to do is for the Lands. I have faith the Chosen knows this and will come in spite of what this could mean to him as an individual.”
Ren looked between Avalon and Morrus. Go behind the door? He was the Chosen. If he went behind the door it would solve nothing. He would be unable to recall friends, relatives or entire years of his life. He may be unable to remember his own name. He had to destroy the darkness. How could he destroy the darkness without the Quy’s power?
Then he heard Fate’s voice echoing in his mind.
“You must destroy your soul.”
And with a surety he couldn’t describe, he knew.
Fate had ordered him to go behind the door.
The haunted eyes of the portrait in the Oracle seemed to loom in the air, staring into his heart. Those were the eyes he would have, eyes of a man without memories.
Neki stepped forward, brandishing his sword with frightful enthusiasm. “The Maker curse it, do you think we’ve lost our minds! If Ren goes behind the door he’ll be unable to defeat what he needs to defeat. All three of you are mad! Burning cinders, Ren, tell them no!”
The leader’s eyes remained on Ren throughout Neki’s remonstration. “It’s either go behind the door or become Barracus.”
Ren thought of the other portrait, the one with half of Barracus’ body as his own. He hesitated, confused as to how the portrait could become reality. His breath caught – the Red Eye.
Morrus stepped forward. “The Red Eye can pass spirits through to this realm. Spirits who had the Quy in life need a vessel with the Quy in order to use their power. The vessel in which they pass determines the strength of their power. If the vessel is weaker than the spirit the spirit will be hindered, unable to use its power to the fullest. If the vessel is stronger the spirit can thrive. The darkness the Chosen has to defeat is a force only he can bring. The only way to stop the darkness, the threat of Barracus entering his body, is to go behind the door. If Barracus enters through another he’ll be defeated. If he enters the Chosen the threat will be too great to be crushed.”
Ren remembered his dream: the darkness forcing him out, the fingers squeezing his soul and the terror as his skin bubbled into a horrible monstrosity.
When Galvin read the truth in Ren’s eyes he gripped Ren’s arm so tightly Ren thought his bone might shatter. “Ren, you must not. I don’t care what the Oracle told you. This isn’t the way.”
“It is, Galvin. I’ve been having dreams of becoming Barracus.”
Galvin’s eyes filled with desperation, but before he could speak the Druid leader stepped closer.
“You don’t want to become the darkness.”
The dream flashed through Ren’s mind again: the terror, the bubbling flesh, and the grip of fingers on his soul. No, he didn’t want to become the darkness.
“I won’t remember my life, will I?”
“I’m sorry, you may not. You may remain somewhat whole, but you will lose some of your memories. There’s no way to be sure until the door is shut.”
Ren saw the Druid’s lie. Morrus was trying to spare him. Most remembered very little of their past. The implications suddenly crashed down on him. He may not even remember Aidan.
“Ren,” Neki said, an edge to his voice. “Let them go. We can discuss this in private.”
Morrus shook his head. “There’s no time.”
Galvin’s hand tightened on the broadsword. “We demand the time!”
Before any of them could blink the broadsword was in the Druid leader’s outstretched hand. The force of its impact caused Morrus’ tuft of black hair to sway in the moonlight.
Morrus’ dark eyes pierced Ren’s own. The forest was bathed in a sheet of silence.
Although the leader displayed no aggression there was a violent conviction in his eyes. He would take Ren by force if necessary.
“Violence is unnecessary. I choose to go freely.”
Neki shook his head. “Ren!”
“Trust me,” Ren said, “this is the only way.”
Galvin turned from him. Ren wanted to say something but there was nothing to say, no words of comfort to be given. In a way he was agreeing to his own death. He couldn’t blame Galvin for being angry.
Ren turned back to Morrus. “But I go on one condition.”
The leader tilted his head, causing his thin length of ebony hair to shift to one side. “What’s that?”
“I speak to the One before you attempt my closing. I have something I must request of him.”
The power of Ren’s tone caused the leader to blink in surprise. “I can’t assure you the One will grant your request, but you’ll see the One before the closing.”
For some reason Ren found himself inherently trusting Morrus. “Thank you.”
“We leave now,” Morrus said, beginning to turn.
“We go where he goes,” Galvin said, jaw clenching in determination.
Avalon turned. “No, you cannot.”
When Galvin faced Avalon, his look was death. “Try to stop me.”
Morrus stepped between them. He handed the broadsword to Galvin and put his hands back into the unanswered prayer pose. Ren noticed he put them closer this time. He wondered if closing his door was Morrus’ current prayer.
“I regret you cannot,” Morrus said, his tone kind, even apologetic. “Our horses have been blessed by the One and can ride much faster than your own. Your horses will never be able to keep the pace. They can try, but they will fail.”
The three Druids turned and walked back the way they had come, expecting Ren to follow. The kota whined beside him. Ren reached over and scratched the tender place under her horn. She leaned her head against him and began to purr. He felt a stab of sorrow. She would try to follow. It would pain her a great deal when she was unable to keep up. He wondered if he would ever see her again, or remember her.
“Stay with Galvin, Keena,” he whispered. The kota breathed a sigh as if she understood but pressed against him with more force. Ren turned and looked into the faces of his friends. Galvin’s eyes were sunken and there was a look of lunacy about him. Ren almost asked why he was so anxious but then decided against it. If he knew Galvin’s reason it might shatter his own resolve.
“It’s the only way, Galvin. Believe me. It’s the only choice I have.”
Neki shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Burning cinders, Ren. Did the Oracle tell you to do this?”
Ren glanced to where the Druids had gone. “In a way.”
“In a way!” Neki said. “Ren, please reconsider. This is foolhardy at best.”
The third Druid came through the trees, leading Ren’s mount. “It’s time.”
Ren nodded and bent to grab his pack. When he had tied it to his new mount’s saddle he absently patted the mare’s neck, whispering greetings, and mounted with a heavy heart.
“We’ll follow when we can and wait for you at Port Vy,” Neki said, indicating the port city close to the island of Dresden.
Ren nodded, unable to look at his friends. He may not remember them after the closing. He knew he should say something but couldn’t find the words.
Then Galvin was beside him, clasping his hand. Ren felt something cold slip into his palm. Before Ren could see what it was, Galvin shook his head. It was a slight movement, but it was enough. Ren nodded, keeping his fist closed. For some reason Galvin didn’t want the Druids to discover his gift. The Druid stopped his horse and turned to watch.
Galvin’s dark brown eyes peered into Ren’s with unmistakable desperation. “Believe in yourself. Remember this,” Galvin said, eyes flickering to Ren’s closed fist.
“May the Fates be with you, Galvin,” Ren said. “If I’m able to retain some of my memories I pray to the Maker you’re among them.”
Chapter 12
“Please, don’t stop.” Chris hugged the dark haired woman tighter. They had been riding all day and she had been giving him feelings he both longed for and abhorred, but it hurt to be without them. She shifted in the saddle and leaned back. Her dark eyes drew him closer.
“Kiss me.”
He hesitated, wanting to resist, but when her eyes heated he remembered the pain and leaned into her. Her lips were soft, sensual. Confusion seeped inside him. Why hadn’t he wanted to kiss her? The question quickly dissipated as she sent him a tingling pleasure. His body shook with need, but she only allowed the pleasure to pulse within him, keeping it high enough for him to tremble but low enough for him to be coherent. It was maddening.
“Do you remember what you must do?”
He let her question hang in the air. He had already said yes multiple times but tried to rationalize answering anyway. He felt a doubt form within him and was about to dispute her question when a sharp stabbing pain ripped through him. Why shouldn’t he answer? He didn’t want to die. There was still something he must do.
“I remember,” he slurred as a wave of pleasure engulfed him. When the feelings subsided into a small pulse he opened his eyes and squinted into the sun.
