The Road to Light (The Path of Zaan Book 1)
Page 24
“Good. We will meet tomorrow for more training,” Zelestiana replied. “I heard of what you did to Reizenthrōgz, and I saw his body afterward. I am proud of you, and I know that with proper training, you will be able to do it again.”
The group talked more about Gildur’s life and death, and about the Battle of Gildur and the Witch, as it was later known. They talked about Reizenthrōgz and how the witch had made an allegiance with such a villainous monster. Palanzal caught them up about happenings in Auracity and about how the king had been persuaded by Angela Dragus the Righteous to capture those who wielded the Azulūz. He told them about how Erolos, the captain of the king’s guard, had been sentenced to death, but was suddenly released and reinstated with the demise of Angela Dragus the Righteous. Palanzal told them how Lily’s family had been slaughtered completely.
They all departed and split up in different groups, except for Zaan and Tilda.
“Well, what do you think?” Tilda asked.
“What do you mean?” Zaan responded, looking away, into the sky.
“Is life outside of Fur-lol everything you thought it would be?”
“I don’t even know how to begin to answer a question like that. I feel like I died and was born a completely different person, in a different world. Maybe I did die back in the Black Cave and this is all something else. It all feels real, but reality seems much more ambiguous . . . if that makes sense.”
“Listen. What you did back there really was incredible. You have grown strong.”
He looked down at his feet, then up at Tilda. “I’m sorry about Gildur; I wish I could have been there, and done something.”
“Don’t think like that. It would be three caskets back there if you had been there. Gildur was the strongest of all of us, except maybe Gogenanth, but he wouldn’t have been able to slay the witch either,” she said. “Hey, I’m going to meet up with the others at Folk’s Inn. Do you want to join?”
“Maybe next time,” Zaan said. He looked away from her and back toward the tall peaks of the Cascades.
“I understand.”
“I’ll see you later,” Zaan said as he walked off in the direction of his room and bed, weary from sorrow and the long adventure they had had.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
THE clear, white clouds slowly passed as Zaan watched them through the skylight above him. He lay back in bed and tried to clear his head. So much had happened in the months since he’d left home. He tried to remember what it felt like to lie in his old bed, in his old room in Fur-lol. He tried to remember what it was like to sit in the green vineyards with fresh grapes growing, and the warm sun and breeze on his face.
He thought of Oscar when the dog was younger, when he would jump through the fields chasing moles, and catching a few. He would bring them back to Zaan, with the moles still whimpering, hanging from his mouth. Oscar wouldn’t kill them; he would just catch them and show them off to Zaan, his master.
“Good boy,” Zaan would say to Oscar, and rub his head. Oscar would then drop the mole, and Zaan would take it out into the field and let it go, and hope for the best. Did those little moles live? he wondered. Did any other moles go to find them and nurse them back to health?
Then Zaan thought about Lily, and he felt bad for her. It was difficult for him to imagine what she had seen and been through, losing her whole family. He thought of her like one of those stranded moles, injured and lying alone in a field. He thought then that he would help her, somehow. Whatever she needed, he would help her. After all, he had lost friends and had been through hard times since Fur-lol. He decided he would arrange a time to run into her the next day.
A light knock came on his door. He saw the shadow of feet under the door, and then an envelope was slid through, and the feet disappeared. The bed creacked as Zaan swung his legs to the side and stood up to get the envelope. On the front side of the envelope was his mother’s handwriting.
To Zaan Talabard
Last known address: Room 3 Raven’s Roost
13 W Harrow Way
Auracity
He went over and sat at the desk next to his bed. He slid a letter opener through the top of the envelope, then held it up to his nose and breathed in deeply. The letter smelled faintly of blueberry pie, bringing Zaan back to Fur-lol and when he was younger. His mother would make fresh blueberry pies for him and his sister, Emilisa. He opened the letter and read.
My dear son Zaan,
It has been months since we last heard from you. I hope this letter finds you well. Your father and I love you and miss you, and we hope you are healthy and happy. Things are good here in Fur-lol. It has been a light autumn and winter, and we even managed to get some early winter crops to grow up until last month.
My heart aches to tell you that Oscar has passed. He died in his sleep last night. He had not been in great health the last month, but he passed without pain. We buried him under the cottonwood tree in the field. His grave is marked with a cross made of rosewood. Your father was very upset at Oscar’s passing. I’m planning on bringing home a puppy next week to surprise him with. I’m thinking of naming it Emi if it is a girl.
I dearly hope you are okay, wherever you are. Please write to us when you get this. We will surely sleep more soundly knowing that you are okay. Your father is very proud of you for going out in the world. He brags about you to all of his friends whose kids are all married with their own children here in Fur-lol. You are becoming something of a legend here. The kids are even making up stories about you, calling you Zaan Talabard the Slaver Killer. We had a good laugh at that one.
Anyway, we love you with all of our hearts and hope life has been kind.
Take care, Son.
Love,
Your mother and father
Zaan folded the letter back up and laid it squarely on the desk. “Oscar . . .” He lowered his head, but did not cry. He only smiled, and laughed. He thought of his old pal, and of the times they’d had together. His heart warmed knowing that Oscar had passed on with his parents surely caring very well for him until the end. The thought of him passing in his sleep without pain comforted him as well. “Good boy,” he said.
He reached over for a clean sheet of paper and grabbed his quill and ink. He looked at the blank, outstretched sheet in front of him, inhaled deeply, and let out a sigh. He then began to write.
Dear Mother and Father,
All is well. I am up north in the town of Barrier Cliff, northeast of the Cascades and northwest of the Rion Sea. I can see the sea from my bedroom window. It is beautiful and calm from a distance, but when you get in, the current is actually quite strong. I briefly even saw the Great Sea, but was unable to enjoy it properly. I imagine it is something like this.
As for me, things are good here. I have new friends and have had my fair share of adventures. I am safe, and again, I will have many stories to tell you when I return to Fur-lol someday. Life is so much bigger than I ever thought possible. Being here with these people, I feel different, and wiser. I now understand the stories you used to tell me, Dad. I can imagine telling stories of my own to people, but them not quite understanding what I am saying. Being in the middle of a story, it all comes and passes so quickly. All that is left is the memory of those that experienced it.
As for Oscar, it makes me sad that he is gone, but I am glad you took care of him. I wish I could have been there with him in his final days, but I’m sure he was happy with you. Thanks for burying him there, under that cottonwood. That’s where I would have wanted him laid to rest. As for what you put in the letter to me, Mom, if it’s a boy, I would name it Gil, after a good friend of mine.
I love you two very much and look forward to seeing your faces again someday soon. Until that day, know that I think of you often and miss you.
Love always.
Your son,
Zaan
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
A single bell tolled, and it shook the foundations of
the bloodstained bedrock under the sky of ash. A silver shimmer glowed in the heavy mist. “Armoz, my king.”
A heavy grumble bellowed from a high throne embedded in the highest peak of the mountain. “Xelex, what news have you brought me of my prize?”
Xelex, the Crooked Knight, brandishing an axe of flame, knelt, and from behind him an elegant figure emerged. Her silver hair and long red dress glowed in the gloom.
“Great Lord Armoz,” she said as she gave an elegant bow.
“Angela,” Armoz grumbled. His black, stiff beard crackled as he spoke.
“Yes, my lord. These men have disrespected both you and our cause.” She gave a conniving smile. “If you allow me to return, I will . . .”
The words of Armoz the Devil King seemed to grow from the core of the volcano his throne was placed upon. “Silence.”
The eyes of Angela Dragus the Righteous grew wet with fear, and she held up her arm to cover them.
“Xelex,” Armoz called to his silver knight, who walked up and stood to the side of Angela Dragus the Righteous. “So these men think that they know the way of things, do they?” Xelex only nodded.
“They believe their god will save them from me?” Armoz looked into the eyes of Angela Dragus the Righteous, and she fell to the ground groveling. “If they only knew the truth of their gods they would give up this foolish idolatry. Yet the truth is that their ideology must end.” Armoz’s eyes were engulfed in bright white flames.
Armoz stared up at the black sky of ash. “It is time for the end of these men.” As he said this huge wings battered the smoke, and the deafening roar of a great beast echoed.
“All things mortal end. This is the way things will and must always be.” Armoz the Devil King stood, towering above all else in this wasteland. “Xelex.”
“Yes, my king.” Xelex straightened his crooked back at attention.
“You, my faithful servant, must bring me my prize.” Armoz looked at the groveling Angela Dragus the Righteous. “Others have failed.” Armoz took in a deep breath, and the ground shook beneath their feet. “The light of the Azulūz will be mine. The world of these men must end.”
“Yes, my lord,” Xelex said, and held up the axe of flame. The roar of thousands of souls rang out in the distance.
The End
Zaan and Oscar in Fur-lol
Gogenanth of the Arr
Tilda Hildenbred the Tangier
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Coming soon
The Path of Zaan
Book II
The Crooked Knight
By C.K. Rieke
About the author.
Chris Rieke’s love of fantasy and storytelling began early, with his deep adoration of The Lord of the Rings and The Dark Elf Trilogy. Even before his teenage years, he was writing short fantasy stories and drawing comic books on lined paper with a ball point pen. In 2006 he was awarded a bachelor of arts degree in Film Studies from the University of Kansas.
Born in Kansas in 1982, Chris Rieke (Pronounced ‘Ricky’) now lives in Lawrence with his wife Rachel, and their 2-5 dogs, depending on the year. When he is not writing and revising upcoming work, Chris is an Executive Chef, comic book creator/illustrator, and digital artist.
Chris’s first novel, The Road to Light, is the beginning chapter of The Path of Zaan novel series, introducing Zaan Talabard on his adventures in Essill. The second novel in the series will be released in 2017.
For more info check
:
CKRieke.com– for more words
ChrisRiekeArt.com– for more art