The Rock of Ivanore

by Laurisa White Reyes

  “Like I said before, I can’t tell you anything.”

  “I understand. It’s true I was angry at first, but I’ve been thinking about what you said. I guess if I had a secret to tell, I’m glad to know I could trust you with it.” Kelvin took a deep breath of the cool night air and expelled it in a pale cloud.

  Marcus thought of the pendant that hung around his neck. In the excitement and confusion of their escape, he had forgotten about it. Though he had taken it out of anger, he never intended to keep it. Now, after hearing Kelvin’s words, he felt ashamed. He wanted to return the pendant, but the moment seemed awkward.

  “It’s chilly over here,” said Kelvin. “You should come sit by the fire.” Then he walked away, leaving Marcus alone. The moment for truth passed.

  Thirty

  he air grew colder with each passing minute. Marcus had just decided to return to the campfire when a twig snapped behind him. Before he could react, someone clamped a hand around his mouth. Fear shot through him like an arrow. A voice whispered in his ear. “Why are you following me?”

  The voice was familiar. The hand around his mouth loosened its grip. Marcus turned to face his captor.

  “Jayson! How did you—”

  “What are you doing out here?” demanded Jayson.

  “I came to warn you,” answered Marcus, rubbing the pain from his cheeks where Jayson had gripped too tightly.

  “Warn me?”

  “There’s a man looking for you.”

  “Arik.” Jayson said the name with obvious disdain.

  There was a shout from the direction of the fire. Marcus saw Bryn snatch a piece of roasted fish from the fire and run off to the safety of a nearby tree.

  “You’ve brought the monster with you?” asked Jayson.

  “I had no choice!” replied Marcus. “When Arik asked if he recognized me, if I had been with you, Bryn protected me. If I hadn’t let Bryn come, Arik would have killed him.”

  “Did Arik follow you?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Of course, why should he?” Jayson said. “He has only one goal in mind, and it isn’t chasing a couple of boys through the forest.”

  “Why is he after you?”

  Jayson studied the stars above and then squinted through the trees toward the road. Marcus sensed Jayson’s reluctance, but having given his pledge, Marcus felt entitled to some answers.

  “The library’s history said Ivanore was kidnapped,” pressed Marcus. “If I’ve given my word to a criminal, I have a right to know.”

  To his surprise, Jayson only smiled. “Yes, I suppose you do have that right,” he said, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “I didn’t kidnap Ivanore. What I told you before is the truth. She is my wife—and Arik’s sister. Arik and I were like brothers. When Fredric exiled me, Arik came to my defense. He even went so far as to draw his sword against his own father. For that, he was disowned and exiled along with me.”

  Marcus’s head swam with this new information. He didn’t even notice the cold anymore.

  “If you were friends, why does he want to kill you now?”

  “Over the past fifteen years,” answered Jayson, “Arik has been plotting revenge: overthrowing his father’s throne and taking over the realm. Despite what Arik and Ivanore’s father did to me, I cannot allow Arik to succeed. Too many innocent lives are at stake. I just hope I reach Dokur before it’s too late.”

  A cool breeze rustled the leaves underfoot and Marcus shivered.

  “You should get some rest,” continued Jayson. “We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

  “We? You mean you want us to go with you?” Marcus was both excited and apprehensive at the same time. He glanced back at Kelvin, who was shouting obscenities at Bryn. “All of us?”

  “Unless you’ve better things to do.”

  “But it’s dangerous,” said Marcus. “You said yourself you might be arrested—or killed!”

  “True,” replied Jayson, turning his gaze up to the stars. “But some things are worth dying for.”

  Marcus considered this a moment. Jayson was obviously the reckless type, and traveling with him to Dokur could prove perilous. Marcus had spent his entire life being cautious, doing what was expected of him, what was safe. But now, sitting here listening to Jayson, Marcus felt a peculiar desire—no, need—to take a risk.

  “I’m coming with you,” he said with more certainty than he thought himself capable. “We’ll all come.”

  A bit of mist escaped Jayson’s mouth as he breathed. “It’s settled then,” he added with a sudden cheerfulness. He held out a rabbit hanging from his fist. “I had planned a feast for one. I’m sure it will be enough to share. A few hours of sleep, and we’ll be off.”

  Jayson patted Marcus on the shoulder, then headed toward the fire.

  On one hand, Marcus was pleased that Jayson had asked him to come along. But deep inside, he was filled with a gnawing dread.

  Thirty-one

  rik and the Mardoks rode straight through the night, stopping only once to allow the horses to drink from the river and then continuing on. Tristan, Clovis, and Zody managed to sleep occasionally, but sleep would not come to Jerrid. Being tied upright on the back of a horse was uncomfortable at best, and he preferred to wait until he was allowed a proper bed. At one point during the night, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of light through the trees to their left. Though he was certain Arik had seen it, too, their pace remained steady.

  Shortly before sunrise, they came upon a lake. The opposite shore was cloaked in a light mist illuminated by the receding moonlight. Arik ordered the Mardoks to lead the horses to the water, but as they neared, the horses began to grunt and stomp the ground.

  “They’re frightened,” said one of the Mardoks. “Something’s out there.”

  “Nonsense!” replied Arik. “Bring me the second bird, and be quick!”

  The Mardok dismounted, leaving Jerrid alone atop the horse. From a crate, he retrieved a bird with an orange band about its leg.

  “Why the birds?” asked Jerrid. “Who are you trying to contact?”

  Arik glanced up at the insolent boy for only a moment. “My business is not your concern,” he said.

  “Then why the rush to beat Jayson to Dokur?”

  Zody shifted nervously on the back of his horse. “Jerrid, what are you doing?!” he said in a forced whisper.

  “I saw the campfire back there, same as you. It must have been Jayson,” Jerrid continued. “You could have killed him if you really wanted.”

  Arik’s lips grew thin and pale as he pressed them together. He could have bored a hole right through Jerrid with his eyes. But the loathing in his face disappeared as quickly as it came. He took the bird from the Mardok and checked its band.

  “I haven’t time for distractions now,” he said. “Our swift arrival at the northwest harbor is expected.”

  “What will happen to us when you get there?”

  Arik flicked his reins and maneuvered his horse until it was within inches of Jerrid’s. He now wore an excessively patient expression, as if he had all the time in the world to spare.

  “My contact within the Fortress of Dokur awaits my final signal: a red-banded bird signifying that the tower is secured and the invasion has begun. If I fail in my mission and my betrayal is discovered, I will ransom your pathetic lives in exchange for my own. If I succeed . . .” continued Arik, the corners of his lips curling upward ever so slightly, “if I succeed, I will take pleasure in killing you.”

  Arik released the bird with the orange band. The sound of its wings in the still night air startled the already restless horses. Then another sound rolled across the lake, a low rumble, as if something large and heavy were being dragged along the ground.

  “Did you hear that?” whispered Tristan, who sat on the horse beside Jerrid’s.

  Clovis nodded, biting his lip to keep from crying out in fear. Zody sat on his horse, stiff as a statue. All their eyes were focused on th
e lake. Though the thickening mist prevented them from clearly seeing the other side, Tristan was sure he saw movement in the shadows.

  “We’re going to be eaten alive!” whimpered Clovis.

  “Shhh!” said Tristan.

  A shadow rose up over the far shore, reaching skyward until it blocked the moon from view. Clovis fainted, but as he was tied to his horse, he remained where he sat. Jerrid’s horse, however, reared up. The ropes gave way, and Jerrid fell to the ground with a thud.

  “Jerrid!” Zody called to him. “Help me out of these ropes! I want to come with you!” Zody’s Mardok host struck him with the back of his hand while the others tried to calm their horses. In the confusion, Jerrid wasted no time in getting to his feet and darting away into the nearest thicket.

  Zody watched Jerrid’s retreat, his lip already swelling from the Mardok’s blow. “Did you see that?” he said to Tristan and Clovis, his voice a choked whisper. “He left me behind.”

  The Mardok on the ground quickly mounted his horse, making ready to follow his escaped prisoner.

  “Let him go!” shouted Arik. “We haven’t time to search for him. And besides,” he continued, motioning for the others to follow him as he urged his horse onward, “whatever is out there will save us the trouble.”

  Thirty-two

  t was dark when Marcus awoke to the smell of damp ash, the remains of the previous night’s fire. A thin film of moisture covered his face. He stood up and peered through the haze. The darkness around him was not the darkness of nighttime, but of a heavy mist that hung in the air like an ethereal phantom. He held his hand up in front of his face but saw nothing.

  “Jayson?” His voice echoed back, hollow and empty. “Kelvin? Bryn!”

  The fog swirled around him, suffocating him. He held out his hands and took a step forward, but then a terrifying thought struck him: I’m alone!

  As the darkness pressed in on him, he fought the urge to run, for he knew that if he wandered blindly in the dark, he might become lost.

  For a moment, panic set in, but then he remembered that he was not completely alone after all. He felt along the ground until his fingers found the walking stick. “Xerxes, wake up!” he said. The eagle squawked loudly.

  “I was having a lovely dream until you so rudely . . . Oh my!” Xerxes shivered in Marcus’s hands. Marcus was glad to have someone to talk to until he could locate the others.

  “Xerxes, it seems that—”

  “I’m blind!” shouted Xerxes. “My eyes have been put out! Everything has gone dark!” He was hysterical, and Marcus was afraid he might cry.

  “You’re not blind,” said Marcus. “There’s a mist this morning, that’s all.” In trying to comfort Xerxes, he felt comforted himself, though he could not shake his increasing apprehension. Determined to remain calm, he called out again. “Jayson! Kelvin!”

  “Here!” Kelvin’s voice cut through the dense vapor like a beam of light.

  Marcus felt the comforting warmth of another person’s presence. Kelvin grasped his arm.

  “You all right?” Kelvin asked.

  “I am now,” answered Marcus. “This fog . . . I’ve never seen anything like it. Where are Jayson and Bryn?”

  “Here,” said Jayson’s voice beside him. “Since we can’t see well enough to navigate by land, I think it would be best to follow the river downstream.”

  Kelvin let go of Marcus, and immediately the dark seemed to close in on him again.

  “Wait!” Marcus said, the familiar anxiety returning. “I’m all turned around.”

  Bryn’s small child’s hand slipped into his.

  “The fog doesn’t bother me,” said Bryn, calling out to Jayson and Kelvin, as well. “Grocs use our sense of smell to travel at night. I can lead you.”

  Kelvin grasped Marcus’s other hand and placed a rope in his palm. “Hold onto this,” he said, ignoring Bryn. “It’s the only way to stay together.”

  “That’s all right, Bryn,” said Jayson. “We Agorans get around pretty well at night, too.”

  Jayson led Marcus and Kelvin down a gently sloping hill. The ground beneath their feet became soft and soggy, and soon they were standing in six inches of rapidly moving water.

  “Wouldn’t it be safer to wait until the fog lifts?” asked Marcus.

  “We haven’t any time to waste. And besides,” said Jayson, “this isn’t fog. Well, not really.”

  “If it isn’t fog, what is it?” Marcus felt the rope grow taut in his hand. Kelvin, who walked ahead of him, pulled him gently along as they followed Jayson downstream.

  “It’s laundry day,” said Jayson.

  “Laundry day?” repeated Marcus. “What’s laundry day?”

  Thirty-three

  hat do you mean ‘laundry day’?” Kelvin sounded as perplexed as Marcus felt.

  “You’ll understand what I mean when we reach Lake Olsnar,” said Jayson. “It’s not far. This stream will lead us right to it.”

  They followed the stream for another quarter of an hour. By the time they reached the lake, the mist was so concentrated that it saturated their clothes with water. Marcus felt as though he had waded through the lake itself. Jayson led them around the lake and up a hill. The mist grew thinner until, at the top of the hill, the air was clear. The sun shone brightly overhead, but the valley below was a soft, cottony blanket of vapor.

  Jayson pointed to the opposite side of the lake. “Look there,” he said.

  Marcus strained his eyes to see through the swirls of white, and then he saw it, or rather, he saw them. At least a dozen heads and shoulders seemed to float above the mist like massive marble sculptures. On closer inspection, however, Marcus realized that the heads were not floating at all. They were attached to entire bodies—bodies so tall that their upper halves rose above the surface of the fog. The giants moved methodically through the vapor, which spilled over the rims of several massive black vats.

  “Who are they?” asked Kelvin. Marcus was too astounded to speak. He had never seen a giant before.

  “Cyclopes,” said Jayson. Marcus looked again, and though he hadn’t realized it at first, he now saw that each giant’s face had only one large eye in the center of its forehead. Kelvin strung his bow and leveled an arrow toward the lake, but Jayson took the arrow in his fist. “They’re harmless,” he said.

  “Harmless?” said Kelvin. “They’ve killed humans before!”

  “Only in self-defense,” Jayson explained. “Cyclopes may be big, but they are gentle creatures.”

  The Cyclopes stirred their vats with large wooden paddles. One lifted a steaming giant-sized article of clothing from a vat and hung it on the branch of a nearby tree.

  Laundry day.

  Jayson stood and, cupping his hands around his mouth, called out. “Hello there! Hello!”

  He waved his arms in the air. The Cyclopes stopped stirring to look up. When they saw Jayson, they began to talk animatedly among themselves. One Cyclops came forward, walking through the lake as if it were nothing more than a shallow swamp. When it reached the other side, it knelt down and rested its chin on top of the hill.

  “Wiloth, Jayson,” it said in a voice that was both melodious and breathy. “Eebreth undraja beyosh?”

  Jayson smiled warmly at the gentle giant and rubbed the side of its bald head with his hand. “Eetu,” he said. “Yalay anoreth Dukar.”

  Bryn tugged on Marcus’s sleeve. “What did it say?” he whispered.

  “He’s welcoming Jayson back,” said Marcus, surprised at how easily the translation came. “It speaks a dialect of the ancient tongue.”

  Bryn cowered behind him, frightened by the sheer size of the Cyclopes. Jayson rubbed behind the Cyclops’s ears. The creature closed its eye and purred like a kitten.

  “I take it they’re friends of yours?” Kelvin asked Jayson.

  “Yes. This one’s name is Breah.”

  “I didn’t think there were any of them left on this part of the island.”

  “Lik
e the Agorans, the Cyclopes have been forcibly removed from their lands,” explained Jayson. “Only a few bands of them remain in this valley, but it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be forced out, as well.”

  Jayson continued speaking with the Cyclops in its own tongue. Marcus recognized many of the words. A second Cyclops soon appeared through the mist. Its greeting surprised Marcus, for it spoke not in the ancient tongue, but in the language of humans.

  “I thought I heard a familiar voice,” it said. This Cyclops’s hair was speckled with gray and there was only a scar where its eye should have been. “The others believed you had passed to the next life, but I knew one day Jayson would again be in our midst.”

  “Wiloth, Vos,” said Jayson respectfully.

  “Will you stay and feast with us?” asked Vos.

  “I’m sorry, but no,” replied Jayson. “My time is short. I must reach Dokur by midday tomorrow.”

  “Dokur? There is nothing there but thieves and vandals. Better to stay here among friends.”

  “I must go,” said Jayson, giving Breah one last rub behind the ears. Vos raised his one bushy eyebrow.

  “You go to find Ivanore. I know what they say about her, that she is lost,” said Vos, “but do not be so quick to believe what you hear. Many believed you were lost, and yet here you stand.”

  “Ivanore lost? I don’t understand.”

  “I know little except what I hear in the breeze. Perhaps you will learn more when you reach your destination. Is there anything I can do to be of assistance?”

  Jayson nodded. “One thing. We are being followed by a group of Mardoks. Could you detain them should they come by the lake?”

  Vos scratched his gray head with a long, bony finger. “A group of horsemen passed by this morning before day-break. But they have long since gone their way. I am sorry.”

  “It is of no consequence, my friend,” said Jayson. “Do not concern yourself. I must be on my way now. Perhaps the gods will allow our paths to cross again one day.”

  Jayson said his goodbyes, and the Cyclopes returned to their laundry. As Marcus followed Jayson down the opposite side of the hill, he hesitated to ask any more about their brief encounter with the Cyclopes, but what Vos said concerned him.