Rise of the Citadel (The Search for the Brights Book 2)

by Aaron Thomas

  Kilen looked at the window and saw Izabel’s face flash amongst the movement on the other side. Control, he thought to himself. The window was control of his body, his flesh and blood. If The Crying Man made it to the window he would gain that control, he would become Kilen.

  Kilen knew that he couldn’t allow himself to be imprisoned here. Franticly, Kilen lunged himself towards the window to no avail. His feet still unmovable atop the black glasslike surface below. He fell forward onto his stomach and searched with his hands for a grip, anything to pull himself along the floor to the window but found only smooth surfaces. Kilen turned to see chains around his own waist extending into black. Kilen managed to let out a scream that attracted the attention of the figure staring at himself in the darkness.

  “Kilen?” the familiar voice of Tokeye resonated in the darkness.

  Kilen let out a shrilling panic of a scream, “I can’t move, help me!”

  Tokeye took a step towards him and pulled the chains around his waist taunt. He stopped to look back at them and yanked it with one hand. The chains shattered in his grip, disappearing like smoke before they struck the ground. He took a step forward to the window, free of his bindings. “What is that?” he said, looking at the window.

  “I think it’s me, my body. If he gets to it, he may trap us in here. You have to help me, Tokeye. How do you break the chains?” Kilen had twisted in his chains and now tugged repeatedly, trying to break his own.

  The Crying Man’s chains groaned under the pressure he was exerting on them, as if they would snap under his strength.

  Tokeye took another step towards the opening and looked down at this freed hands. “Things are strange here. Chains appear out of nowhere, people with eyes of mist walk amongst us. Food comes and goes, food that you are not able to grasp or taste. The things that we see here in the darkness are also seen in the sky above. Everything is darkness now,” He said as he looked around then focused on the window. “Everything but that,” He took two steps towards it.

  The Crying Man screamed, watching Tokeye step ever closer to the window as he struggled still entangled in the black metal. He slipped and fell to his knees, the black blade protruding from his side scraped against the hard smooth surface of the ground. He let out a groan as he stood back up, still struggling against the metal inside of him and dripping dark red blood that never touched the ground.

  Kilen tugged and slipped on the floor as he struggled to make his way to the window. He watched, screaming at an unresponsive Tokeye who was stepping closer to the window. The man from the Fire Realm was so close he could reach out and touch the misty surface of the window but did not. Instead, he looked back at The Crying Man.

  Their eyes met and a rage turned The Crying Man’s eyes to hate. His voice erupted into a volcano of fury spewing forth like the yell of a rabid dog overtaken by violence. Tokeye shook his head and casually walked to The Crying man and ripped the blade free from his shoulder, causing bits of flesh, blood, and bone into the air. The Crying Man crumpled, still bound by the chain. The darkness shuddered and trembled. Kilen felt a jolt as he pushed against the chains letting him slip a couple steps closer to the window.

  Tokeye let the blade fall just to have it turn to smoke. He ignored Kilen and instead he watched as the blade reformed in The Crying Man’s body. The newly opened wound now closed in around the new blade causing the wound to drip blood again. Tokeye, probably being as astonished as Kilen, walked behind the wounded man and grabbed the chain. Tokeye’s grip seemed to thicken the links of chain as he hefted the metal rings onto his shoulder.

  Kilen watched Tokeye drag the man into the darkness with his fingernails and the tip of the blade scraping along the ground as he faded from view. The darkness enveloped them and any sound they made, leaving Kilen alone with the window and his own chains. Blackness faded to gray and the feeling of terror lifted from his chest. Kilen let the tension on his chain go as he watched the area turn white.

  He didn’t know if the darkness would return, so he began again tugging on the chain. The links had become soft and stretched like potter’s clay. The metal elongated and became thin as he stretched it towards the window. Kilen focused on the window. Outside he could see stars starting to appear as his vision wobbled back and forth on the other side. When he looked back, Tokeye stood at the other end of his chain. The Fire Realm man’s jaw clenched and he took Kilen’s chain in his hands. With a twist, the links snapped like a twig and he smiled at Kilen.

  “Go ahead, I will stand watch,” Tokeye said as weapons appeared on his body.

  The chain evaporated and floated away in the air. Kilen took two steps back towards the window. He could feel the cold mist of the window brush his face as it wafted away from the edges. He could easily touch the surface. He took another look back at the smiling warrior who nodded once more.

  Kilen brushed his fingers against the surface of the vision and his eyesight faded to darkness once more.

  **********

  The stars pulsed in and out and The Crying Man screamed in defiance of Tokeye’s control. Kilen’s mouth tasted salty and his stomach was a tight knot of muscle. It was the only warning he received before the fountain of vomit spewed from his mouth down his face and chest. He began choking on his own stomach matter until Leroy moved his head to the side. He cared nothing for the warmth or the smell of his sickness.

  He did not try to wipe it away, instead his focus was inside his mind. Still clawing and fighting, The Crying Man lashed out until Kilen once again assailed him with his mind's grip. The Crying Man let out a sob at being back under Kilen’s control. Pushing the man as far away from his mind as he could, the voice seemed to quiet. Tokeye remained a tight knot of nervousness. Kilen loosened whatever grip he had reactively acquired on the warrior who had saved Kilen’s body from being snatched from within.

  As he thought over the events that had transpired, he remembered a moment when Tokeye stood less than an arm’s length away from the frameless window. In brief time Tokeye proved his loyalty a hundred times over by not taking control of Kilen’s body for himself. He was mere inches from what luxuries life had to offer and instead he chose to help Kilen, The warden of the prison to which he was being held.

  The Captain’s voice brought Kilen’s mind back to the tasks at hand, “Oh! get him out of here! Izabel, tell me as soon as possible if this sickness can catch. Until I hear from you, the men that helped him will remain away from the others.” The Captain's head barely looked over from the edge of the wagon as the torch light disappeared from Kilen’s face.

  Queezyness swept over Kilen as the wagon lurched forward, starting to move again. Kilen did not even know they had given him the poison yet, but felt the effects now that he was in control of most of his body

  Leroy lifted Kilen’s head a bit more and began brushing the vomit from his chest and neck with a rag. He could feel the numbness dissipate from his toes. The feeling of wiggling toes was so joyous that the next set of dry heaves didn’t dampen his spirit.

  “Can you respond to me?” Leroy asked.

  Kilen spat to the side the last of his stomach contents, “Never again.” Kilen said as he tried to catch his breath, “will you do that to me.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know she was going to do that. You know how she is; one minute she’s selling something, the next she’s stabbing a customer through the hand.” Leroy said holding his hand up as if checking for the wound.

  Izabel snapped from the driver's seat, “That was your fault, Leroy.”

  The wagon rocked back and forth, everyone stayed quiet. The last of the fading daylight fell upon them when Leroy encouraged Kilen to sit up. They were past the line of soldiers and well on their way to Keepers.

  As they approached the small city, a man got off a seat and then saw Wells amongst the riders. He gave a wave and sat back down. Poles with lanterns hung at every shack and tent for those that were still awake inside. Kilen could hear a flute ahead in the distance and watched the
cook fire grow in size drew nearer. He was sure the dancing would start soon, he only hoped that he would feel up to it.

  A large man with a leather apron stood by the cookpots, tasting and dropping in herbs without looking at the bottle’s contents. Master Bradley had worked this way for many years here in Keepers and would probably continue to do so when the next king was risen. Kilen hoped that the master chef would have many years left in service; the soul wizard threatened their very existence.

  Kilen scooted to the back of the wagon and stepped out. Immediately, he fell to his knees still feeling the effects of whatever poison they had given him. Wells was at his side before he could stop the world from tilting. Wells, the soldier without a king, helped Kilen to his feet trying to let him keep as much dignity as he could.

  Leroy approached and handed Kilen a leather covering. Inside was his sword and the satchel the Elders gave to him. “We didn’t know if you would be coming back to the inn so Sargeant Wells thought to retrieve it. You buried it pretty deep.”

  Kilen gave a weak laugh that smelled of his last meal and strapped on the sword, putting the chainger in place. The magic from the sword increased his strength, but not the steadiness of his mind. He leaned on Wells for balance and moved at a steady a pace as he could through to the cook fires.

  “Master Bradley,” Kilen said.

  The round cook wiped his hands on his leather apron and turned to see the man Wells was aiding, “My boy, you do not look good.” He too a step to get a closer look and his eyes went wide. He looked to Leroy, “Stupid child. You should not have brought him here. Hurry, get him to your mother.”

  Kilen pushed Leroy back as his friend started to obey his father, “He was doing as I asked, Master Bradley.”

  “He knows better the ramifications of bringing you here. If you are caught, we will surly all die.”

  “Then let us not get caught. I need your help,” Kilen said.

  The cook replaced Wells and helped hold Kilen steady, “Let us get you inside so you aren’t seen. Then we will discuss matters. Leroy, mind the stoves. Sargent, get me a bucket of water to clean him.”

  Leroy nodded and went to work checking the contents of the big pots. They traveled through the small arrangements of structures known as Keepers until they came to what served as the Bradley’s home. They pulled back the tent flap to reveal a graying woman lying on a cot.

  “Weapon Bearer, I would like you to meet my wife,” Master Bradley said.

  Izebel pushed past the two and went right to work on the cook's wife laying on the cot. She ignored the men, “How is she doing? Did you give her the herbs I sent?”

  “I have been doing just as you said, Miss Izabel. I give her the tea three times a day. I don’t see how it’s doing much good,” The fat cook said.

  Kilen kneeled beside the cot and felt the woman’s body with magic. Her energy was low and the damage to her body was extensive, yet no wounds could be seen. Her body seeped inside with fluid that should not have been there. Somehow he knew she was dying.

  “May I?” He asked, looking to the large cook who nodded to his head as he tried to hold back tears.

  Kilen pushed energy into the woman and watched as only a small amout took hold. As he moved energy into her body it seemed to disappear like steam into the air. He wondered if the energy could not stay because of the damage already done. Slowly, he pushed larger amounts of magic in through smaller areas. Some color returned to her as he worked and she began to move her limbs. He moved the extra fluid to area’s where her body could void them. Her skin was soon soaked with what he could move out of her. Kilen wished Max and Joahna would have taken over the healing, he was already feeling faint from the exertion.

  The woman’s eyes finally opened, and she blinked at the bright lanterns in the tent.

  “I hope that helps a bit. Let me rest and perhaps I will be able to do more tomorrow.”

  There were tears coming down the cook’s face now, “You have done enough, my boy. Izabel, would you please bring my son?”

  “Of course, Master Bradley,” She said curtsying.

  “Pete, it is Pete,” He said as he placed a hand on her arm.

  “Of course, Pete,” She said as she smiled and curtsied.

  The three were left alone in the tent. The cook hugged his weak but revived wife.

  “What is wrong with her?” Kilen asked trying to be be insensitive.

  “She is dying, my boy. We new this end would come, but you seemed to have staved it off for a little while longer and for that I am grateful. Now, tell us why you are here.” He stroked his wife's cheek and looked into her eyes as he listened to Kilen.

  “The Elder Wizards and I are looking for a new king for Leviathan. I thought you would know where we might find one,” Kilen said, hopeful.

  “I have been here for many years. I have sent many inquiries to nobles and the children of nobles. In all my searching there is none that will stand against Warlord Atmos. He was bred and raised by a warlord and has become a monster on the throne. All potential candidates tremble at his name. No, there is none that will make a stand to raise the citadel from its depths.” He spoke to Kilen but did not look up from his wife.

  There was a silence following his answer until Leroy’s mother spoke, “We had high hopes for you, but seeing that you are here seeking another I assume you are also afraid.”

  “I am not afraid of Atmos,” Kilen said as almost by reflex of his mind.

  Pete faced Kilen, still holding his wife's hand in his own, “Then take the crown.” The dying woman on the cot nodded her head in approval with a smile on her face.

  “I cannot run a kingdom, I am from a simple family,” Kilen said in argument as he ran his hands through his hair.

  The woman on the cot put up a finger and whispered into her husband’s ear.

  Pete nodded his head and faced Kilen, “The family of Dylan Everheart is anything but simple. Your father was a warrior and a most trusted scout to more than one kingdom. In the end he saved many lives here in the Water Realm.”

  The cook let go of his wife’s hands and pulled back the tent flap and showed him outside. He took Kilen by the shoulder and lead him into a thick part of the camp. Citizens of Keepers were starting to gather musical instruments for their nightly celebration near the fires. Kilen saw a couple of the women Bowie had danced with the last time they had been there.

  Pete gripped his shoulder, slowing him to a stop. He spoke in a voice so that many of those around could hear him. “Kilen Everheart, should you decide to take the weight of this land on your shoulders, there will be many deaths. There will be a war to celebrate your crowning. Some will hire assassins and mercenaries to kill you. You will be cursed at and ridiculed for every decision you make.”

  The crowd around had begun to emerge from the three sided homes.

  He took a step closer and spoke louder, “There will also be those who are willing to fight that war. There will be those willing to endure those pains with you, to give their lives, to stand for everything that you stand for.”

  The crowd let out out a yell, “Yeah!”

  Pete’s voice was almost matching theirs as he spoke, “There are those that give their lives to protect yours. There are those that will give up everything to serve at your feet as you fight to save this kingdom.” Pete put both hands on Kilen’s shoulders so they stood face to face. “If you choose to seek the crown, I would follow you thick into battle against an army of the dead to my death just to see the crown atop a man’s head.”

  The crowd was cheering when Pete lifted his hands to silence them. When the crowd was silenced he stepped in close once again. “Many will come and stand with you, like the people here. They will bolster you and make you stronger than you could know. Think on it hard, Weapon Bearer. There is none other that can or will claim the throne.”

  The cook took a step back and slowly lowered his large body down to one knee. Others soon followed, causing a wave of people kneeling th
rough the camp. Others approached and joined the crowd on one knee. Leroy and Izabel walked to the back of the gathering and smiled as Sergeant Wells approached shortly after them.

  “You will have my sword.” Wells lowered himself down and clasped a fist to his chest.

  The air was thick with emotion so much that Kilen thought his heart would beat clear out of his chest. Inspiration seeped from the people here and pulled at him to say yes. He took a step back trying to shake himself of the feeling. He knew he had to make a decision that was best for everyone.

  Kilen didn’t know how to tell him that he wouldn’t be able to be their king. He only wished to see his sister free and to see that they stood a chance in facing the Dark Army. Without a word, he walked between those kneeling back towards the camp fires. He only stopped to talk to Leroy in passing, “Your mother is awake.”

  He knew that his being alone would not last long. Sergeant Wells and Izabel joined him at the fire. They said nothing to him. He was sure they knew there was nothing that could be said that hadn’t been already. The music started playing and some started to dish out the food in the Bradley families absence. He cleaned himself and was given a fresh shirt that was surprisingly white for people living without walls. Kilen ate a small amount of the stew that was offered and staved off the last bit of nausea.

  The celebration lasted for only a few hours. Many asked him to dance. He refused, still deep in thought as to where he could seek out the next king. He looked around to find a place to retire and he found Pete looking at him from a stool amongst the giant pots.

  Pete stood and walked over, “I am sorry about earlier. You are the best hope we’ve had for a king in years.”

  “You have nothing to apologise for. I’m sorry I cannot fulfill the role. I think I will retire before I have to ride out tomorrow.”

  Pete grabbed his arm, “I’m sorry, Kilen. You cannot stay here. Sometimes in the night the soldiers come and check. Your presence here puts all of our lives in danger. You must leave.”