by Cale Madison
Once at the clearing, I rested behind a great stone stuck between two sturdy willows. I could see that it wore a brown fabric-mask over its face, resembling a man with muscular arms. In its right hand, the giant carried a fortress watchtower like a club and a small prison cage in its left. I watched from where I sat as the monster quickly scaled the hills to then vanish across the mountaintops.
My legs were weary and my head pounded from lack of sleep; my parched throat burned and was desperate for water. I knew that I could not drink from the marshes. Any food that the guards might have brought were now being carried into the peaks of Gorgon, so I was left with nothing but this mysterious box that the elves nearly skewered me over.
I withdrew it from my pocket and inspected its details more closely: golden writing, made of black wood, appearing to be burnt or molded in charcoal with a metal lock that looked broken. I dug my fingernails into the crevice and pulled with all of my might but it did not budge. I kicked it with my heel but nothing worked. It seemed that nothing would open this box until I tried to break it against the boulder behind me.
Suddenly, a flash of red and white lights and billowing smoke erupted from within the black container as the lid snapped open, enveloping everything around me in dark clouds. I choked on the suffocating smell and taste as it filled my lungs, collapsing onto the hard ground as I tried to clear my throat of the toxicity. My eyes watered and I found it difficult to hold them open amidst the swirling vortex of smoke filling the air around me. I finally stopped resisting, allowing it to carry me into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
GLIMPSE OF THE FUTURE
All I could see was death. A horrendous, eternal damnation as hell-fire scorched the world; flames engulfed the trees and the remnants of what survived rotted where they lay. In this sequence of nightmares, I watched from atop a mountain as clouds of rain and thunder covered the sky and rained blood onto the villages and cities below. I could see the faces of men and women as they were pulled from their homes by black knights and thrown into the streets to be murdered. Swords slashed open the screaming throats of children and impaled their mothers behind them...this happened throughout every city in all of the Realm.
The province of Era’Kal, a once prominent land south of the Southern Isles, now burned in a blaze of raging fire. I watched as the Gorgon Mountains spawned avalanches that rained down, showering over the forests of Avenwood. Dark, winged creatures infested the Tuskan Palace, carrying people to unfathomable heights only to release them and watch them plummet to the city far below. Ataman suffered a worse fate - armies of werewolves and ghouls ascended upon their walls, slaughtering hundreds of families in their houses. It was as if I could see and hear every detail of the ruthless onslaught.
The Southern Isles were tormented by hurricanes and monsoons that swept relentlessly across the lands, ravaging Skalige’s home and capsizing the Crescent Moon. I watched, helplessly as his fortress collapsed and the great tower plunged into the Hallobar Sea. What remained after the windy chaos was swarmed by burrowing demons, crawling from the bowels of the earth to feed on the corpses left behind. Mercia’s lone peninsula burned as well, raided by the knights in black who butchered my oldest friends in the Port and set fire to every house in the land. I saw and felt everything.
I fell to my knees as I watched the gruesome apocalypse unfolding before my eyes. Castles crumbled into ash, homes and ships burned as flames tore them apart, the peaks of volcanic mountains burst open to flood valleys and farmlands across Ataman and Tuskan in hot lava. Nobody escapes from such chaos.
What is this?! Why have you shown me this?!
I turned as I heard the rasping sound of horses breathing, witnessing a conjunction of twelve, shadowy riders, dressed in black. They were the same figures that had murdered and pillaged every city in the realm. Their pointed helmets were covered in runes, similar to those on the black box. They gazed at something in the opposite direction of where I knelt. My wobbly legs gave away as I attempted to stand, paralyzing myself in fear as I saw what the dark riders were facing: a man in shining, black armor, bearing a decorated steel sword and wearing a magnificent, silver crown atop his long, black hair. I could see the malice in his movements and the fear that he presented upon each word that he shouted to the twelve darkwraiths. His ghostly pale face shone brightly, even in the dark of the night.
Behind the congregation, I watched as a blood-red moon covered the sun, casting a titanic shadow over the Realm. In the darkness, monsters awoke from their eternal slumber and began to descend from their mountain caves or sprout from the flaming waters. My heart pounded rapidly as the scene continued to unravel, until the man donning the crown suddenly cocked his head towards me. His yellow eyes pierced through my soul, as if a burning hand had just clutched my heart and was squeezing the life out of me. I screamed when I couldn’t bear the pain any longer as the shadowy figures approached me with their hands reached out.
***
“Caine! Bloody hell...Caine, wake up!” a familiar voice shouted above me.
In a daze, I started to open my eyes before a sweaty hand collided against my face. I woke up instantly in a rage and a state of deliriousness as I realized that the nightmares were no longer real. Blades of grass and soft dirt rustled against my cheek and I could hear soft whispering in the distance. Startled, I shot up from where I lay, nearly knocking Skalige over in the process.
“Whoah, now, boy...steady. Don’t want to slap you twice, now.” he said as he helped me to my feet.
I wanted to explain everything that I had seen to the elves standing with my friend but I refrained, remembering the last time that I showed it to someone else. They had not noticed the now-closed box concealed within the tall grass behind me. King Gwydion stood alongside a battalion of elf soldiers at the edge of the forest, watching me with his brilliant, blue eyes.
“What the hell happened, Caine?” Skalige asked, snapping me into reality again. I stammered a reply, trying to remember what happened last.
“We found it,” I said, showing him Aketa’s pendant, “out in the marshes when the giant attacked us. He killed them, brought them up the mountain. I...I guess I fell asleep. I can’t remember much else.”
“Possibly the marsh gasses.” Gwydion announced as he stepped from the crowd of elves, “If so, you were very fortunate, Caine. The forest is designed to keep foreigners out. Sad to hear about the guards that you left with...their families, we shall notify immediately.”
“How’d you find me, Skalige?”
“We heard the commotion in the forest.” the baron answered, “I knew it had to be you mucking around with our giant. Wanted to take all the credit for yourself, eh? Anyway, we gathered our new supplies and followed his tracks to you. You were out cold, you were...we thought you might’ve been dead.”
“Far from, actually. I’ve got some stories to tell you later.” I replied before turning my attention to the elf king, “Thank you for everything, your Grace. We can take it from here.”
“No, thank you. Skalige has insisted that you two continue your journey. Safe travels to you both. One piece of advice before you trek Gorgon, and listen closely: there are many traps in the mountain pass, ones that we have rigged in place in the event that we must evacuate to higher ground. Each trap has a singular mark etched into the mountain stone. Look for these marks and be wary. Stay clear of this valley, this time tomorrow. Should the enemy arrive at our doorstep, we must be ready for battle.”
“What battle?” I asked Skalige, who shrugged.
“Ever since the giant began stirring in the mountains, the hill-men have been driven from their homes. They wish to do the same to us and use our trees to build villages. The safest path into Avenwood is through the Pontar Fields, here,” the king explained, gesturing towards the valley, “and any other attempt would be suicide. They will find death waiting for them.”
“Seems we made it just fine.” I replied.
“Safe travels, you two.”
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With that, Gwydion and his men departed back into Avenwood again. I hadn’t even noticed that Skalige was now dressed in fine, elvish armor. He saw that it had caught my attention and presented me with a pair of my own, saying, “Parting gift from Gwydion. New armor with reinforced, metal plates that can withstand arrows, darts, straight-shots from a crossbow and spears. Finest, most expensive plating that I’ve ever seen. Here, I think this may be your size.”
“How would you know all of that?” I asked.
“Never trust armor you haven’t tested yourself.” he said with a smile before knocking against his chestplate, “This metal is tough as nails, Caine. Tougher than any armor I’ve ever seen. If ten of my Elites could get their hands on this, the war would be ours in a fortnight.”
I pulled the light armor over my head and adjusted myself to find comfortability. It felt snug and fit perfectly to someone of my stature. Skalige unsheathed a sword from his back and placed it into my hand, nearly blinding me from the sun’s reflection. Red and green jewels were embedded into its hilt, giving it a spectacular, refined look.
“This is Gwydion’s grandfather’s cutlass,” he said as I admired it, “forged for the great Battle of Kel-Dorun. Or, that’s what he claims. This baby cut through hundreds of men in its time...now it’s yours. Take it.”
“No, no. I can’t.” I argued, “You’re the better fighter between the two of us. It’s only right that you take this. I would probably lose it, anyway.”
“This is not a negotiation, Caine! It’s a gift from the great Elf-King of Avenwood!” he stated before pausing to chuckle, “You will respect the honor of gift-bearing and take it!”
With a cautious grin, I received the weapon and uncovered the black box from the high grass; I then slid it into my pocket. My friend hadn’t noticed. He looked into the dark forest and then at the mountains ahead of us which seemed to call our names from across a beautiful, green valley. The elves had returned into the woods again, leaving us with only our journey ahead.
The baron then withdrew a green bottle from his pack, tossed it between his hands and said, “Didn’t even leave their wine guarded. For a highly advanced race, they’re still pretty irresponsible.”
“Getting drunk on a giant’s mountain seems pretty irresponsible.”
“Nothing about this week has been responsible, Caine. Let me enjoy myself, damnit.”
***
“Gavin! Lord Gavin, may I have a word?” Aketa called to the Lord, interrupting his walk through the palace courtyard. She had spent several hours tracing the final moments of Malachi Lockmour, only to discover nothing that she hadn’t already known. It was time that she uncovered some appropriate answers.
“Yes, Lady Mercer? How are you feeling? I’ve heard about what happened earlier today.” he asked, holding several books in his hands. His jet-black hair appeared wet, as if he had been sweating, and was brightly shining in the last remaining light of the setting sun.
“I’ll be fine. I need a list of anyone with full access to the armory. You’re the Hand of the King and bookkeeper. I’m sure you know their names by memory.”
“Everyone in the King’s High Command can enter the armory after nightfall, if that’s what you’re inquiring about.” Gavin answered, “I have heard that the infamous Dragon Cleaver has been stolen and some armor. Shame that the guards were not as vigilant that night.”
“Not a coincidence, I’m guessing.” Aketa replied, “Someone with authority helped. Someone gave the prince a sword and armor for some reason. Twelve guards stood watch in the palace but not one of them reported anything out of the ordinary? I don’t believe in coincidences. Dane mentioned that Malachi disappeared to chase after a giant in the forest.”
“Dane has always been the most reliable source,” he answered with sarcasm, “but if what you’re saying is true, it would be treason, punishable by death...in one of the more gruesome ways. Would you care to know how?”
“Treason or not, I don’t care.”
“The condemned, accused of lies to the king and to the Tuskan crown, has hot, melted gold poured down his gullet until his traitorous belly is filled,” Gavin explained, grotesquely as he neared Aketa, “but a beautiful, young woman like yourself would surely not wish to know what happens after that? Surely not.”
“I do not care to hear.”
“They sever the traitor’s hands and send them to every corner of the kingdom so that the world may know of his deceit. His feet are thrown to the alkimars in the moat and his skull is burned during the King’s Feast that following night. The addition of alkimars was an idea of mine.” the Lord said, smiling as Aketa flenched, “I’m not one for the traditional crocodiles or sharpened pikes.”
“This is what I believe happened.” he continued to say, “Malachi ran away, as he does every month of every year, but this time, he strayed too far. Every deserter from here to Avenwood wouldn’t hesitate to snatch him, steal his sword and armor and kill the boy where he stood. People outside of these walls live by a different code, Aketa...this is not Mercia you’re dealing with here.”
Aketa realized that the man had been slowly backing her towards one of Queen Isabelle’s trees in the garden. He carelessly tossed his books onto the ground and then whispered to her, “But, as long as you’re a guest in my home, you are protected. A hundred guards at my command and a warm bed to sleep upon. You have nothing more to fear, my lady. They cannot get you in here.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, nervously.
“Hush, now, my little flower.” Gavin whispered as he placed a ringed finger over her lips, “I’ve had my fair share of women from every city in the Northern Realm but you are, indeed, the most captivating of them all. Not even the princesses in Mocoreta hold a candle to your beauty.”
The Lord forced his lips against Aketa’s and began to fondle her intently before she shoved him aside, slapped him hard across his face and departed in frustration. Gavin caught her just as she passed around a white birch, snapping in anger, “Tuskan women would not dare oppose the whims of the King’s Hand! Striking a Lord of the House will have you killed!”
Aketa wiped away a few tears of shock from this sudden violation and replied, “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not your Tuskan woman.”
Just as Gavin was about to deliver his open palm upon her face, Queen Isabelle emerged from the shadows of the garden to greet them. She announced to the Lord, “Gavin, you will not treat our guest this way. The poor girl has suffered enough today. Withdraw your hand or I will have yours removed.”
He gritted his teeth and replied, “Yes, your Majesty. I sincerely apologize. I don’t know what came over me.”
After saying these half-hearted words, he moved to reclaim his fallen books. Aketa noticed the titles on their covers, reading: The Silent Killer and Herbalist Brews. The Lord departed from the garden in a hurry, disappearing into one of the dark corridors. Isabelle approached Aketa, wearing an extravagant, green dress that flowed elegantly over the rose bushes and flower beds. She ran her fingers across them as she walked.
“Thank you, your Majesty.” Aketa said to the queen, half-embarrassed.
“You need to be careful, child.” Isabelle warned her, “You walk around, waving a banner of truce, yet you declare treason on anyone who crosses your path. That’s not how you gain trust from strangers, and you need allies if assassins are targeting you.”
Aketa gradually nodded, quietly showing that she understood.
“Lord Gavin has been with our family for many, many years. It was only recently that Darius appointed him to be his Hand. He’s a troubled soul but he means well. He would give his life to protect the Tuskan flag.” she explained, taking Aketa’s wrist before leading her to a stone bench beneath an apple tree. “Darius loved Malachi. He was the only planned child that we’ve had, which gives him an ‘advantage’ over his brothers and sister, as they would say. He would do anything to have his son back.”
“Caine will find him.�
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“Will he? From what I hear, your husband is just a lucky man who happens to be in the right place at the right time. I’ve heard the story of you, your djinn and how far Caine traveled to save you,” Isabelle said, “but tell me, what happens when his luck runs out? What if my son doesn’t return and your family lives on, knowing that you failed us and our name?”
Aketa said nothing with a lack for words, ensuring that she not upset the queen further. She could see the way that the woman’s hands trembled with each word as they escaped her quivering lips, the thrashing pain lying concealed behind her blue eyes and the utter hopelessness in her voice.
“I’m sorry.” she whispered, regretfully, “Pray that you never know this pain, Aketa. There aren’t enough words to describe it.”
Aketa nodded, staring down at the rustling leaves and bushes.
“Malachi helped me plant these flowers, you know.” she said, smiling as her eyes became glossy with tears, “He would push the wheelbarrow while I troweled. Darius wished to hire professional gardeners, but I wanted my son to learn how to get his hands dirty. That’s something I neglected to teach Dane and Athalos.”
“We have gardens at home too. Mostly potatoes, carrots and turnips. We sell those in the port. Caine hates tending to them. He finds the process rather tedious.” Aketa replied, smiling as she recalled past memories, “Hard to blame him, though, given all he’s been through.”
The queen sighed heavily and looked away, her face tightening as another wave of tears began to attack.
“I believe that he’ll find your son, Your Majesty. Trust me. You don’t know him like I do. He won’t stop until he does.” my wife replied with a heart-warming smile.
“Let’s hope that his luck hasn’t run out yet.” the queen said before she hurriedly rushed from the garden, wiping her eyes and leaving Aketa alone in the darkness.
