Praise for the Lost City Chronicles
“This inaugurates a trilogy that young fans of the fantastic will like for its fast-paced action.”
Publishers Weekly
“Shades of Jules Verne, J. R. R. Tolkien, and a little George Lucas.”
Reflections in Hindsight
“Betrayal, deception and danger are in every corner . . . this is a series that will have you engaged and drawn in!”
5 Star Books & More Newsletter
“An exciting action-packed fantasy thriller.”
Harriet Klausner (#1 Amazon Book Reviewer)
“This is a page turning thriller. . . . I am impatiently waiting for the next book in the series.”
Vic’s Media Room
This book has a slight C.S. Lewis or Ted Dekker feel …”
The Christian Manifesto
“Combines energy, creativity, and familiar fantasy characters and tropes that will appeal to readers.”
CBA Magazine
The Lost City Chronicles: Book Two
CITY OF
GOLD
by Daniel Blackaby
Copyright © 2013 by Daniel Blackaby
Editorial Work by AnnaMarie McHargue
Cover Art by Gary Hanna
Interior Design by Sharon Page
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means © electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other © except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Boise, Idaho by Russell Media
Web: http://www.russell-media.com
This book may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, ministry, or promotional use.
For information please email [email protected].
ISBN (print): 978-1-937498-28-3
ISBN (e-book): 978-1-937498-24-5
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To Chevy,
King of the Mutts.
May your bark be ever fierce.
PROLOGUE
THEY WERE COMING. He felt it in the marrow of his bones as clearly as the breath hastening over his lips. Fleeing was pointless. He would be caught; he had foreseen it. But he was prepared for this day.
The pattering of footsteps echoed through the tunnel. Time was short. He glided across the room to where a lone table rested against the damp rock wall. He smiled; he had constructed the table with his own hands—many years ago. He ran his fingers across, caressing the brittle surface as its legs wobbled beneath. We’ve grown old together, haven’t we?
The approaching footfall grew louder. With a deep sigh, the elderly man grasped the object resting on the table. He gazed at it longingly, as though looking into the eyes of a loved-one for the last time. He had no doubt that it would, indeed, be the last time.
Cradling the object against his chest, he lowered himself into a wooden chair. His eyes focused toward the room’s lone entrance where flickering light, growing brighter and brighter, bounced off the walls. His solitude had been compromised. He allowed his weary eyelids to droop over his pupils; he could do nothing but wait.
The faint sound of the intruder’s steady breath prickled the hair on his arms. The trespasser, concealed only by the pirouetting shadows, now stood motionless in the entrance. The elderly man felt a small grin hijack his aged face; his visitor’s eyes sweltered with flame. The recklessness of youth.
“Are you here to kill me?” he asked calmly.
The man nodded. “I am,” he uttered without hesitation.
The old man motioned to the object in his lap. “The conviction of your mouth has yet to take hold of your muscles, boy. Why delay what is so certainly to be? I am ready to accept my destiny. Are you?”
The figure in the shadows shifted. “Do not mistake my lack of action for hesitation or mercy, for I am friend to neither. As a gentleman of honor, I owe any man I execute, and there have been many, the satisfaction of knowing why. Is this knowledge not desired?”
The old man chuckled. “What good is knowledge to a corpse? I know what drives you; you seek the truth, and find it you may. But spare me one more question, boy.”
“Proceed.”
The old man bent forward, pointing a boney finger toward the stranger. “If the truth you obtain turns out to be not what you were searching for—what next? There is no rewriting the truth. Are you prepared to accept what you find?” He reclined into the chair. The man in the entrance shuffled once again.
“Unfortunately, my crusade for truth no longer concerns you. The more appropriate question seems to be whether the truth you have found is one worth dying for?” A shimmer of light glimmered off the metallic pistol as it emerged from the shadows.
A shiver trickled down the old man’s spine. He gazed at the object in his lap once more. Raising his eyes to the intruder he spread his arms like the wings of an eagle. “There is a time for summer and a time for winter. Life is but a vapor in the wind. Live well, boy. Live well.”
The deafening crack of gunfire was echoed by a thump as the old man’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor. A trail of blood stained his wrinkled forehead.
The assassin emerged into the light and stood over the body. Two more shots rang out in the small room. He lowered his smoking pistol. Senile old man. Bending down, he retrieved the object that had fallen from his victim’s lap. He stroked his hand across it; he had waited a long time for this moment.
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a smooth silver disk. With a soft pop the object split in half, revealing five dime-sized notches. The fingers of his right hand slid perfectly into the holes. There was a low drone as he brought the metallic device to his ear. The moisture in his mouth evaporated and his heart jumped as the tone ceased.
“Report,” came an icy voice.
The assassin inhaled slowly. “The deed has been accomplished.”
The sound of puffing smoke crackled against the device before a response came. “And, The Thirteenth?” the speaker questioned, equally void of emotion.
“Eliminated. That which was his is now ours.”
“Did he beg for mercy?” questioned the cold voice.
“Yes, master. Like a whimpering pup,” replied the assassin. The lie produced the desired effect. The killer could feel pitiless pleasure oozing like tar through the apparatus.
There was a silence before the master spoke again. “Well done, Dunstan. Your service and obedience to CROSS will not be forgotten. The day of justice is within our grasp. The bloodshed between Atlantis and El Dorado is only the beginning. The truth at last will be unleashed upon the land. You have done well. Don’t lose my trust.” Static once again sounded in his ear.
Dunstan returned his gadget to his pocket. With a final glance at the face of the corpse lying on the floor, he turned and disappeared. Silence once again engulfed the small room, leaving only the bitter stench of blood to testify to the violent event. Dunstan knew the balance of power had shifted and the order of the cosmos had been violently hurled into limbo. And, yet, the world remained blissfully oblivious.
Dunstan chuckled. Oh, but they will know soon enough. The Day of Reckoning is coming.
PART ONE
PREPARATIONS
1
Confined
THE PHANTOM DASHED DOWN the abandoned alleyway, blanketed under the shroud of midnight. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm he was not being followed. Reaching the end of the lane, he threw his back against the stone wall and peered out at the comatose courtyard. It was eerily tranquil—and that worried him. He carefully scanned his surroundings for any sign of life. H
e halted—his suspicions affirmed.
Two sentries paced militantly across the lofty wall overlooking his position. Both were garbed in full battle armor and broad swords dangled by their sides. He crouched down low against the wall; he would have to be cautious.
With trance-like silence, he scampered from the alley before taking refuge behind the base of a fountain that dotted the middle of the courtyard like a bulls-eye. He held his breath.
The sound of the guards’ casual conversation floated down to him, assuring him that he had remained undetected. With another deep breath, he scurried out of the courtyard. Passing under a large arched gateway, he ducked down low in the shadows cast by the wall. He could now see his destination before him; his mission was almost complete. Just a little farther.
Suddenly his ears spiked—somebody was approaching. Quickly inching farther into the haven of the shadows, he locked every muscle. Seconds later he was looking at the hefty silhouette of a man, the outline of a double-edged axe resting against his shoulder. Another man appeared beside the first, both inspecting their surroundings.
“I’m telling you…all the captain told me was that it was urgent. Think it’s an attack?” asked the first in a gravelly voice.
“Anything is possible these days. Perhaps it’s a spy or an assassin. Let’s have a look around. Stay alert,” suggested the second. The larger guard grunted in affirmation and they set off, turning out of sight from the concealed figure.
The phantom readied himself. If he timed it correctly, he could make it with one final dash.
He could feel the cool damp air rushing through his hair as he bolted into the clearing, moving closer and closer to his target. Out of his peripheral vision he observed the shapes of the two guards, both walking the opposite direction. He had made it…UMPH!
A sting against his chest sent him tumbling to the ground. Two firm hands ripped through the dark and clutched onto his collar. Before he could reorient himself he was jostled up. His back stung as it was slammed against a solid stone wall.
“I’m disappointed,” spoke the captor slowly. “I thought we had a deal. You gave me your word.” The grip on the detainee’s collar loosened as the man released a weighty sigh. “But it seems that you, Cody Clemenson, are going to require a much closer watch.”
Cody rubbed his throbbing chest where the man’s arm had struck. “Was the tackle really necessary, Dace? How did you know what I was doing tonight?” asked Cody irritably.
The handsome captain gave a roguish smirk. “Because fate seldom befriends the untrustworthy, my young, scheming friend. As it happens, the Queen has summoned another red-eye war council tomorrow; I was tasked with informing you but found your room abandoned. As this is now your fourth attempt to flee Atlantis, it didn’t take much to hunt you down. Now, let us go before anyone else witnesses their savior Book Keeper fleeing the city.”
“How much longer do we play this game, Dace? You gave me your word, remember? The night of the ambush, the night…they took her,” Cody replied, his voice distant. “You promised me we wouldn’t abandon her to the enemy. It’s been almost two weeks since Jade was stolen from me. Two weeks! How do I know she’s safe? How can you, in honest conscience, expect me to attend a relentless parade of pretentious councils when it’s my fault she’s gone!?” yelled Cody, his rage awakening from its shallow repose.
Dace gave Cody’s shoulder a sturdy squeeze. “You know my word is good. We will rescue Jade…but not tonight. Passion does not negate wisdom. One more council. Besides, you can’t abandon me. Without you, I’m deserted to withstand the dreadful ramblings of the politicians alone! Come on champ, I sent my superior to jail, wrongly I might add, for your sake. Stay another night for mine.”
After a moment of silence, Cody sighed. “One more night.”
The two turned and began wandering back to the palace. “Oh, and Dace,” added Cody, “there’s probably no need for the Queen to hear of my…sleepwalking tonight.”
“Aye?” Dace responded with a hint of amusement. “Perhaps we can arrange a bargain,” he said with a wink.
They came to a halt before an iron gate separating the Outer-City and Mid-City districts. Two large turrets spiking up like spears flanked the entrance. Cody could faintly perceive the glimmer of arrowheads emerging from the narrow slit-like windows.
Blockading the entrance were the two bulky figures that Cody had earlier evaded. They gave a slight bow. “Captain Dace, Book Keeper.” Dace returned the gesture. “Wolfrick, Sheets.” As the guards stepped aside to allow passage, Dace frowned. “Your lax attitude is unacceptable, soldiers. No one enters without the proper password. Including me.”
“But Dace…it’s you! We’ve served under you for hundreds of years.”
Dace’s hand silenced him. “Times have changed. We are at war. The Golden King is as cunning as he is malicious. He has already infiltrated our city with mocking ease. Comfort and trust are no longer luxuries we can indulge. Now, carry on.”
The guards crisscrossed their weapons, although their faces exposed clear discomfort. “Password,” they demanded half-heartedly. Dace replied without hesitation. As the final word slid from his tongue there was a loud popping sound, and the gate began to lift.
They proceeded through the Mid-City, which was unnervingly silent; the residents all inside their homes having long-since closed their scattered factories. Since the onset of war, citizens rarely ventured out into the night.
At the Inner-City gate Dace relayed a new password, representing higher clearance. General Levenworth devised the system following the ambush. Passwords were changed every five hours. Those with clearance were delivered the new password thirty minutes beforehand. No exceptions. The Queen herself would be denied without the proper passphrase.
Dace stopped at the foot of the royal palace. “I trust you can make it to your chambers without detour?” It was an order, not a question. Taking leave of Dace, Cody scurried up the stairs toward the large, double palace doors.
He abruptly slowed to a stop. Something grabbed his attention. Even before his eyes located the movement he knew what it was. The alluring smell floating on the stale air was unmistakable. Cody found her concealed in the shadows. Her flowing blonde hair hung gently over her shoulder and the fairness of her skin appeared to glow in the dark night. Her red lips were pressed firmly together and her ocean blue eyes held steady.
“Tiana!” Cody exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”
The girl tilted her head, her thick hair falling loosely over her eyes like a fresh sheet of snow. She silently examined Cody. “I was watching your escape. Even from my dwelling on top of the Sanctuary, I could tell it was you. Your movements are predictable; they give you away,” she answered emotionlessly. Cody felt the brisk drumming of his heart through his throbbing temples.
“Ti, we really need to talk. I don’t understand what went wrong between us. We need to…” Cody didn’t get the opportunity to finish his plea; without a sound, Tiana disappeared, leaving him, once again, alone.
2
The Pawn
MORNINGS ARE THE FOULEST ABOMINATION, thought Cody as sharp light beams poured through his window and burrowed through his eyelids. He pulled his shaggy, brown hair over his eyes. It was not so much the morning which was so detestable—it was the living which followed. He massaged his temples; it had not always been this way. Just one short month ago everything in his ordinary life was meandering along as usual.
Like every other morning, his hand instinctively slipped beneath his pillow, brushing against the cold sleekness of worn leather. A shrilling jolt of static energy scaled his finger and raced down his spine. Pushing aside the pillow, Cody gazed at the ancient Book—the scarlet ‘A’ radiating like smouldering coals: The Code.
The Book had obliterated everything normal in his life. It had given him unimaginable power…but at a great cost. Cody exhaled a pained breath. If not for the Book his dearest friend in the world
would still be with him. She had been stolen from him—and it was entirely his fault.
I miss you, Jade.
He snatched a smooth, ruby-coated object from the nightstand—Wesley’s mysterious pocket watch. The clock’s golden hand remained firmly pointed at 3 o’clock. Cody wondered whether Jade had arrived in El Dorado yet. What he tried not to imagine was what dark, unknown fate awaited her when she did.
A burst of knocking on the door startled him. “Come in,” he called out. The door creaked open and a plump, pear-shaped head oozed through the narrow crack. “M-m-master Clemenson? Oh, there you are!” the man muttered, as though somehow surprised to find Cody in his own room. “Th-th-the Queen reminds you that your presence is required at the war council in precisely thirty-two minutes.”
“Thanks, Poe. I was just heading there now.”
Poe gave a quick, clumsy bow. He opened his mouth to speak but, seemingly losing his train of thought, turned and waddled out of sight. Cody kicked off his blanket. Normally he’d seize another thirty-one minutes of sleep, but lately slumber had become scarce and contaminated with nightmares—every night the same one.
Cody was still rubbing his baggy eyes as Queen Cia commenced the assembly. As always, she looked radiant, transmitting intoxicating grace with every motion. Her twin brother, Prince Kantan, was perched beside her like a vulture patiently waiting for something to die. To the Queen’s other side was a conspicuously vacant chair: that of the traitorous murderer, Prince Foz.
Filling out the table was the grizzly General Gongore Levenworth; Captain Dace; the panther-faced Sli Silkian, head of the Atlantis Rule Enforcement Association or AREA as it’s called by Underlings; and lastly, Private Tat Shunbickle, the borderlands’ scout who had provided first intelligence on El Dorado’s swelling war camps.
City of Gold Page 1
