Onyx of Darkness: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 2)

by Norma Hinkens

  The mood was subdued as Akolom and Erdhan accepted a bowl of broth each and sat down to eat next to Orlla and Yaarlin.

  “Khor must have attempted to follow us that night,” Orlla said, her voice thin and wavering.

  “Skinner wasn’t exaggerating when he warned he would hunt down anyone who broke their contract,” Erdhan added, a doleful look in his ordinarily sparkling eyes.

  “Perhaps it’s the brutality of the mercenaries we should fear most, not the greed of the monarchs,” Orlla mused.

  “No!” Akolom swallowed a spoonful of broth. “The mercenaries are simply following their code of ethics, errant as that might be. Khor knew the risks of deceiving them—we all did. The ones we should fear are those who seek the dark power of the Onyx, to control the kingdoms of the world. For Khor’s sake, we must finish what we started and take the dark dragon stone to the Angladior mountains. Together with the other Keepers, we will make sure the stone never resurfaces. We’ll leave in the morning.”

  “We won’t be able to traverse the bogs without Gaunt to guide us,” Erdhan said. “That leaves us only the route through the deepest parts of the woodlands that border the bogs.”

  “Which will add three days to our journey.” Akolom frowned. “And that route is not without danger either.”

  “It’s nothing to the risk of crossing the sinking bogs without a guide,” Orlla said. “According to Gaunt, the fugitives are loners and keep to themselves. As for mad mortals, I can’t imagine they’re much of a threat.”

  Erdhan pursed his lips. “Gaunt did say we’d hear them coming, so that’s some comfort. I think we all agree that we should plan on returning through the woodlands.”

  Yaarlin nodded his head in approval. “Better than decomposing in the bogs.”

  A shiver ran down Orlla’s spine. Delaying their return to the Angladior mountains was more favorable than not returning at all.

  “Will you be in any danger from the mercenaries?” Erdhan asked Yaarlin. “Won’t Skinner suspect you helped us hide from him?”

  “Take no thought for our safety. The mercenaries will leave us alone,” Yaarlin replied. “We are a reliable source of milk and meat to supply Boar’s Fort—they won’t jeopardize that.” He got to his feet and stretched. “We should turn in. You must leave at dawn.”

  For the first time in many nights, Orlla slept soundly. The cave offered a measure of security they hadn’t enjoyed since they had fled Efyllsseum. Akolom had taken charge of the dark dragon stone for the night, and the relief Orlla felt at not being responsible for its safekeeping was substantial. Although she hadn’t mentioned anything to her mentor, the protective mental runes she had tried to construct to keep the lure of the Onyx of Darkness at bay continued to fail her. Every time she lifted the sack with the dark dragon stone, it was like a fist squeezed her heart a little tighter. She had been the one to invoke the forbidden rune, so maybe the stone had attached itself to her now that Varon was dead. She had to rid herself of this fatal attraction as soon as possible.

  In the morning, they shared a breakfast of goat milk and biscuits before quietly departing the cave, trying not to waken the slumbering children. Several of the women eyed them with an air of relief from beneath their animal skin coverings. No doubt the rumors about what Orlla carried with her terrified them after hearing of what had happened to Varon.

  The trek through the tunnels was even longer than the route they had taken the previous day to the communal cave. Orlla found herself wishing for the next leg of their journey under the open sky—facing fugitives and mad mortals was beginning to sound a lot more appealing than the claustrophobic monotony of the sandy tunnels, broken only by the occasional flittering of bat wings streaking overhead.

  The sun was high in the sky by the time they arrived at the southern foothills. Yaarlin exited the tunnel first, slipping sideways through a narrow slit between granite boulders, easily missed from the outside by the brambles that overhung it. He scoped out the area to make sure all was clear, before beckoning to the others to join him.

  Akolom grasped Yaarlin by the forearm. “Thank you for all your help. When this is over, I won’t forget the role the goat herders played in aiding us to smuggle the Onyx out of the lost kingdoms.”

  Yaarlin inclined his head. “We ask no reward. We are a simple people and desire only peace among the kingdoms of the world.” He turned and pointed down the rocky path. “Keep left once you descend the hill and you will come upon the granite boulder marking the trail into the starless woodlands.”

  “Starless?” Erdhan echoed. “Surely the stars are visible through the gaps in the trees.”

  Yaarlin set his lips in a grim line. “But not through the heavy mist that lies prostrate over the deepest parts of the woodlands.”

  Akolom frowned. “What is the source of this mist?”

  Yaarlin hesitated. “It is rumored to be the exhaled breath of the dead trapped in the bogs’ depths.”

  Orlla swallowed hard. The prospect of spending three days journeying through the starless woodlands sounded almost as unappealing as risking another crossing over the sinking bogs.

  Without another word, Yaarlin raised his arm in parting and disappeared back inside the mouth of the tunnel.

  Erdhan led the way as they began their descent, stopping briefly by a spring to refill their waterskins. The goat herders had kindly restocked their provisions for the journey, ensuring they wouldn’t need to expend time or energy hunting while they were passing through the starless woodlands.

  When they reached the granite boulder marking the beginning of the trail, Orlla stared grimly down the tunnel-like opening into the dark woodlands. If all went well, they would be out in three days and could pick up their horses at Gaunt’s abode before making their way back to the camp to check on Samten and Franz, and then on to the Angladior mountains. On the other hand, if things didn’t go well, there was no telling if they would ever reemerge from these sinister woodlands.

  Akolom pressed a hand to his back and passed Orlla the sack containing the dark dragon stone. “Perhaps you would oblige me and carry it for a while. I am growing weaker by the day.”

  “I can take it for you,” Erdhan offered.

  “No!” Akolom said. “It’s safer if the stone remains with a rune weaver who can veil it.”

  Masking her qualms, Orlla reluctantly took the sack and slung it over her shoulder. She should confess to Akolom that her mental protection runes had proved deficient in the face of the increasing allure of the stone. But, Akolom was too weak to carry the Onyx the rest of the way to Gaunt’s abode, and he would insist on doing so if he knew how much she was struggling to resist it.

  An oily-green darkness curled its tentacles around them as they penetrated deeper into the starless woodlands. Thick rolls of damp fog snaked overhead, merging in an ever more suffocating blanket until nothing but silence and gloom enclosed them. Orlla questioned if she would be able to survive three days in here without losing her mind.

  Echoing her sentiments, Erdhan said, “There’s something very wrong with this place. How can a living forest this dense survive without the sun?”

  Akolom pulled at his long beard in an agitated fashion. “It’s almost as though the forest feeds off the fog.”

  Orlla grimaced. “The last breath of the dying, you mean.”

  Erdhan flicked an uncomfortable glance around. “If you’re not already of unsound mind when you enter the starless woodlands, it wouldn’t take long to go mad in these conditions.”

  The words had barely left his lips before a sinister wailing reached their ears, setting them all on edge. They exchanged skittish glances with one another and quickened their pace of one accord.

  The eerie wailing grew louder as they stumbled forward, their muscles locked with fear. With trembling fingers, Orlla transferred the sack to her other shoulder. The stone had suddenly become heavier than ever before. In her mind’s eye, she could see the exotic beauty of the Onyx, striations of red,
yellow and gold licking its dark center like flames, beckoning to her like fiery fingers with blackened nails, a marred beauty that bespoke deception even as it called to her soul. She shook her head free of the macabre thoughts, stumbling over a tree root in the process.

  Erdhan gripped her upper arm. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, avoiding meeting his eyes. “Fine—just lost my concentration for a moment.” She slipped the sack from her shoulder and clutched it to her chest as they continued on. Her blood began to grow warmer until she could feel the stone’s power pulsing through every vein. Perhaps, she should slip her fingers inside the sack and make sure it was still there. She needed to feel it one—

  “Orlla!” Akolom’s voice was sharp and panicked at the same time as he turned toward her, robe floating out behind him.

  She blinked, staring at him in confusion.

  He grasped her wrist firmly. “What are you doing?” he asked in a low, measured tone.

  “I … I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I needed to touch the Onyx.”

  Akolom let go of her wrist and gestured to the sack in her arms. “Give it to me. I will take the stone from here.”

  “No!” Orlla argued. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying it. I had a momentary lapse, that’s all.”

  Behind them, the sinister wailing crescendoed, bearing down on them. They jerked their heads around in unison at a sudden thrashing in the brush.

  “Draw your swords!” Akolom shouted.

  They positioned themselves in a fighting stance, weapons raised as they waited for who- or whatever was pursuing them to show their faces.

  All at once, a short, shirtless man leapt out from the brush onto the trail. He scanned them uncertainly, his yellowed eyes rolling around in his head, never settling on anyone in particular. “Where … is it?” he wheezed, his body convulsing with alarming tremors.

  Akolom shook his head in warning at Erdhan and Orlla. “To what do you refer?” he asked in an overly patient tone.

  The man jabbed a trembling finger in Akolom’s direction. “I know what you have.” He twisted his filthy hands together, eyelids twitching as he paced back and forth across the trail. “I see things.”

  Orlla took a wary step backward, ever so slowly moving the sack containing the dark dragon stone out of sight behind her back.

  The man began scratching incessantly at his patchy-haired scalp.

  Orlla cringed at the scraping sound as she studied him. He was well-built, but barefoot and unarmed, hardly a credible threat. She drew her brows together. His words troubled her though. It was as if he knew they were transporting the dark dragon stone, which was ridiculous, of course. The man was clearly mad—nothing he said meant anything.

  After a moment, he stopped scratching and began to breathe rapidly, eyes gleaming as he stretched out a hand toward Orlla. “A beauteous stone; red, yellow, orange, gold.” His voice trailed off and he glared at her. “You have it!”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Give it to me!” The man whined. “We need it!”

  Erdhan stepped protectively in front of Orlla. “We have nothing for you. Get out of here before you come to harm at the end of my sword.”

  The man’s eyes widened. He pulled frantically at his hair, pacing for another moment or two, before turning tail and crashing off into the undergrowth, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

  Heart still thundering in her chest, Orlla raised her brows and looked around at the others. “That was a strange encounter.”

  Erdhan waved a dismissive hand. “A mad mortal. Like Gaunt said, demented, but harmless.”

  Akolom looked contemplative. “I wonder what he meant by we.”

  “The voices in his head,” Orlla muttered. “Let’s go before he comes back.”

  Akolom stretched out his hand for the sack.

  Orlla hesitated, a tight feeling in her stomach. “You said the stone was too heavy for you.”

  “I’ll wield a weightlessness rune.”

  “But we dare not deplete our power until we need it,” Orlla protested.

  “That time is now,” Akolom replied firmly.

  Orlla’s hand shook as she hesitantly held the sack out to him.

  “Your mental protection runes failed, did they not?” he said more softly as his fingers closed around the mouth of the sack.

  Orlla nodded, shame replacing desire now that the stone was out of her hands.

  “You should have told me sooner. Such a lapse is dangerous in the hands of a rune weaver.” Akolom turned away and muttered a rune over the sack before flinging it over his shoulder and traipsing off down the trail.

  Erdhan and Orlla fell into step after him. They continued on in silence for several furlongs, their breathing growing more labored and emphatic in the thickening fog.

  It wasn’t until Orlla stopped to pull out her waterskin that she realized the heavy breathing was coming from all around them.

  Chapter 24

  The waterskin slid from Orlla’s fingers, spilling its lukewarm contents over her doeskin boots. Blistering fear prickled her skin as her fingers curled instinctively around the hilt of her sword. “What’s that sound?” she whispered. “Is it the fog?” The exhaled breath of the dead trapped in the bogs?

  Erdhan and Akolom quietly unsheathed their swords, circling all the while as they eyed the dense forest around them that had taken on a life of its own.

  “The fog has no voice,” Akolom said evenly. “Nor do the dead. Pay no heed to superstitious claptrap.”

  Erdhan took a hesitant step toward the tightly packed foliage bordering the trail and cut his sword through it in a wide sweep. Instantly, the heavy breathing stopped, replaced by an even more terrifying stillness, an anticipation that heralded peril from some unknown source.

  Orlla willed her heart to slow its flustered thumping. Erdhan was right—it wouldn’t take long to go mad in this place. She wet her lips, her eyes scanning everywhere at once, but seeing nothing. Had they imagined the wailing? Was it just the wind moving through the trees? Yet, her gut told her someone was out there, watching them. “Do you think it could be that shirtless man again?”

  “No, it was all around us. I think we’re hearing the forest itself,” Erdhan replied.

  “Probably just a strange effect caused by the air trapped by the fog,” Akolom said, although Orlla noticed he didn’t resheathe his sword. “We should keep moving.”

  Tentatively, they continued along the trail, their faces tight with concentration as they wound their way deeper into the darkest parts of the starless woodlands. All too soon, the heavy breathing started up again, more insistent than before, an odd clamoring for attention—somewhere between pitiful and terrifying.

  Sweat trickled down the back of Orlla’s neck. She felt no rush of wind on her skin. Whatever was making the sound, it was unnatural—like nothing she’d ever heard in a forest before. A nagging suspicion tugged at her. She turned to Akolom, frowning. “You said the dark dragon stone can deceive the heart. Could the stone be creating these noises, trying to instill enough fear in us to detract us from our mission to destroy it?”

  Akolom stared at her for a long moment. “Is the stone calling to you again?”

  “No!” Orlla shook her head vehemently. “I’m not attempting to trick you into pulling the Onyx out if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  Akolom didn’t look fully convinced. He stepped away from her and fumbled in the sack for a moment, before lifting out the Onyx to inspect it. The stone had long since reverted to its usual dull appearance, with no indication that there was anything living at its core, exerting undue influence over their surroundings.

  “I don’t think the sound is coming from the stone,” Akolom said dubiously.

  As Orlla stared at the Onyx, she felt a familiar tug toward it. She marveled at how the stone was able to make her desire it, even in its mundane state. Her head swam with intoxicating m
emories of the beautiful colors that swirled at its center, the beguiling tendrils of flames that had danced before her eyes, beckoning to her with an otherworldly persuasion. “I can carry the stone for a bit,” she heard herself say. “It must be growing heavy for you.”

  “No!” Akolom snapped, hastily slipping the Onyx back inside the sack. “The weightlessness rune has not worn off yet. Let’s go.”

  The sinister breathing only grew more intense as they set out along the trail again at a brisk pace.

  “Something’s out there, in the fog—” Orlla’s voice trailed off as her lips froze mid-sentence.

  Dozens of disheveled figures spilled out from the forest, surrounding them and trapping them on the trail.

  “Back up against each other!” Akolom shouted, raising his sword.

  Orlla and Erdhan moved to form a tight circle with him, never taking their eyes off the crowd of fifty or so freakish-looking figures circling them like curious children. The mad mortals of the starless woodlands had turned out in full force to see who was passing through.

  A wrinkled sack of skin tottered closer, his tongue lolling out between his teeth like a dead slug as he stared at them. Trailing behind him was an elderly, bare-footed man talking incessantly to the ground as he walked. A young woman with a halo of matted brown hair shifted in place from one foot to the other, peering at them with a disturbing smile that made goosebumps prickle up Orlla’s spine.

  She ran her eyes over the rest of the group, dismissing them as harmless when she realized they were unarmed. A couple of them bore obvious physical deformities, hampering their ability to move quickly, others were lost to the world, lips moving as they muttered to themselves. A tall, reedy man with wispy hair elbowed his way haphazardly through the crowd, putting a finger to his lips and shushing everyone as he passed. A bewildered-looking middle-aged woman picked at rotten teeth, head nodding continuously.

  In the midst of the group, Orlla spotted the short, shirtless man with the yellowed eyes who had spooked them earlier. He was still wringing his hands in an agitated fashion, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. She frowned. Did he round up these people? He scarcely seemed competent enough. And what was his purpose in doing so? They were sorely ill-prepared if they were planning to attack a party of armed strangers, no matter how small.