Legends of Ahn (King's Dark Tidings Book 3)

by Kel Kade

  Rezkin was a little unnerved that the phantom warriors were so attuned to his moods. “That was very … efficient … of you, Shielreyah Yeshri.”

  The young elven wraith smiled with pride, obviously pleased to have been of service to the king. Yeshri did not appear to be much older than Rezkin, and he wondered why the young eihelvanan had sacrificed his life to the citadel. It was not the time to ask, though, and such an invasive question might be offensive to the phantom warrior.

  The king looked over the three doors and asked Yeshri, “What lies beyond each of these doors?”

  Yeshri stared at the three doors in much the same way Rezkin had. He tilted his head curiously in a parody of the king that was a bit disturbing to Rezkin’s companions. Finally, the wraith replied, “I do not know, Spirétua.”

  Rezkin narrowed his eyes at the shielreyah. “You are a guardian of this citadel, and you do not know what lies beyond the doors?”

  Yeshri appeared similarly confused. Wisps of vapor whipped into and out of the phantom, like tiny insects flitting away into oblivion and then returning to their nest just as quickly. His facial expression eventually morphed into one of understanding, and he said, “I do not know what lies beyond the doors because you have not yet unlocked them, Spirétua.”

  “You cannot access that part of the citadel?” Rezkin asked in surprise.

  “I have access to all of the citadel, Spirétua, for we are one and we are many. I cannot carry the knowledge across the threshold,” Yeshri explained.

  Rezkin looked to Wesson for clarification. Wesson pondered for a moment and then suggested, “It sounds like the spells are compartmentalized. The phantom warrior spell cannot access knowledge of that part of the citadel once it passes through the ward spell. He will not be able to do so until the ward is deactivated.”

  For the first time, Yeshri’s eager but determined visage turned to one of irritation. “We are not a spell, human. We are shielreyah.”

  “Ah, my apologies, shielreyah,” Wesson mumbled at the phantom’s hostile gaze.

  Rezkin approached the door on the left and pressed his hand to its cool stone surface. An icy tendril wound its way up his arm, but he focused on pressing it back. The cold chill snapped away like a snake from a hot brand. With the slightest push, the door swung wide to reveal a short, empty corridor that ended in another door. Along the left side was a solid stone wall polished smooth with intermittent, beautifully sculpted images in bas-relief. The wall on the right was lined with massive floor to ceiling windows of frosted glass, the sun’s early morning glow evident through the panes.

  “That makes no sense,” Waylen said. “That wall abuts the mountain. How is it the sun shines through?”

  Rezkin pressed his hand to the door on the right and found a winding stairwell leading upward into darkness. Finally, Rezkin opened the central door. He was not prepared for what lay beyond. His companions gasped as their eyes lit with the sun’s rays. Without further consideration, Rezkin stepped into a courtyard. It appeared to be a side yard, for he could see the wall of a large building to the left. In front of him and to the right was a stone wall, perhaps eight feet in height, that ran the remaining perimeter of the courtyard. The ground was paved with tightly fitted stones, and directly across from him was a tall gate. The most astounding aspect of the courtyard, though, was the brightening sky above, splashed with the vibrant pinks and oranges of sunrise.

  Rezkin took a few steps into the courtyard and was quickly overtaken by Striker Shezar. The striker bounded past him, alert to the foreign surroundings. Rezkin and the striker both scanned the tops of the walls and checked for arrow slits and windows in the adjacent building. Far at the top was an open window, but neither saw any movement within the dark recess. Rezkin turned to observe the wall through which they had entered the courtyard, the wall that lined the corridors of the citadel. It was almost completely missing. A short perimeter wall stood in its place, alone with the doorway through which they had exited. With a few quick steps and expertly placed feet, Rezkin was atop the wall in seconds. From there, he could see the hidden cove and the sea beyond. It was fascinating. When they had been on the sea and later standing on the dock, they could see naught but a solid cliff face on a mountainside.

  “What do you see, Rez?” Tam asked.

  “The ocean,” he replied, mesmerized by the mystical view.

  Turning back to the courtyard, Rezkin unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

  “Are you okay?” Tam exclaimed as he rushed forward.

  Rezkin paused in confusion. “What?”

  “Are you hurt?” his friend asked.

  “No. Should I be?” Rezkin said, still not understanding the source of Tam’s distress.

  “That wall is like ten feet high!” Tam said.

  Rezkin scowled and shook his head. “It is closer to eight, and I am fine.”

  Rezkin was uncomfortable with the way everyone was scrutinizing his every move. It was not the technical observation he was used to from his trainers. These people were not watching to ensure that he performed correctly and efficiently. They are suspicious, he thought. Is Tam searching for a weakness?

  Rezkin met Tam’s concerned gaze with a hard stare.

  Tam shifted, glancing around anxiously. “W-what?”

  Is he plotting with someone else? Rezkin wondered. His cold, blue gaze slid to the side. Shezar. Shezar seems more suspicious than the others. And Tieran. Tieran attacked me last night.

  Rezkin frowned at the thought. No, Tieran had not attacked him. Tam was not plotting against him. Tam would never do that. His friend was loyal. Tam’s oath of fealty had been genuine, Rezkin was sure of it. He shook his head and felt his thoughts clear.

  “Let us get on with this,” Rezkin said as he turned and stalked toward the gate.

  “What was that?” Shezar muttered beneath his breath to Tam.

  Tam shrugged and stopped himself from wringing his hands. It was a bad habit he had developed at some point in his travels.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “For a moment, it looked like he wanted to take my head. I’ve seen that look before but never directed at me. I can honestly say I never want to see it again.”

  The iron gate was free of rust and swung open smoothly on silent hinges. Beyond the gate was another astounding sight. It was a city square—one so massive as to rival the main square in Kaibain. To their left, the square curved around a semicircle of steps leading to the grand entry of an elegant palace. A central tower rose above the square, the solid stone façade twisting around like a unicorn’s horn. Behind it rose a second, larger tower, the walls bulging and curling like an enormous bonfire. Between the curves and licks of flames were windows, some with balconies, and a multitude of arrow slits disguised as part of the monumental sculpture. An array of crystals reflected the sun’s rays off the tower’s surface, but none glowed as they did below in the citadel.

  Across from the palace was what looked to have been a market lined with empty structures that might have held shops. The stone buildings were pristine, as though recently constructed. The roofs were made of slate, and iron rods that likely once held signs protruded over many of the doors. Three equally grand streets radiated away from the central square. Rezkin proceeded down the central street with Wesson, Tam, and Waylen excitedly chattering behind him. Shezar bounded from one building to the next looking for hidden assailants. Smaller streets crossed the larger street, but none of the roads were straight as they meandered around what might have been small gardens or sitting areas. Eventually, former stores and workshops gave way to residences. The scene was surreal, though, since there was no evidence at all that anything had ever lived within the city. There were no plants, birds or insects; no rat droppings or pollen; no wood, fabric, or leather of any sort. Only metal and stone had survived the centuries.

  After the last house on the last cross street, the city ended. The end was not denoted by a wall or sign but by lush and vibrant greenery. The boulevard
quickly narrowed to naught but a small path that wound its way through what was obviously once a garden, now overgrown and wild. A dry, stone fountain lined with clear crystals dominated the center of the garden, three statues grasping toward the sky in its center. One statue was of a majestic horse rearing onto its hindquarters, a single, twisting horn jutting from its brow. The second was of a magnificent bird, a raptor as large as the unicorn with feathers that flowed and curled like tongues of flame. The third creature was an enormous serpent twisting around the trunk of a young tree. At the top of the tree, the serpent’s jaw gaped as though to swallow the sun and stars. In its maw was a blue cabochon crystal larger than a man’s head.

  The stone path and fountain had been preserved like the rest of the city, but the plants had been left to grow wild and uncontrolled. The path was littered with leaves and roots, and vines curled over the fountain like living lace. A step beyond the dense greenery of the garden revealed, in the distance below the mountain upon which the city stood, distant fields of swaying grasses, green meadows dotted with colorful flowers, and scattered copses of trees through which birds and small animals flitted and skittered. The fields and meadows stretched nearly to the horizon and, in their center, was a massive lake fed by a myriad of sinuous streams. In the far distance was a vast forest undisturbed for over a thousand years. Far, far beyond, perhaps more than a week’s ride from the palace, was a ring of purple mountains stretching from one end of the horizon to the other.

  “It is a bowl,” Waylen whispered in awe.

  “What say you?” Shezar said as he finished checking the immediate area for danger.

  Realizing he had been heard, Waylen muttered, “We are on the rim. See? The mountains stretch all the way around.”

  Shezar took in the distant scenery for the first time. “So it is.” With mounting apprehension, he said, “It is strange, though. The amount of land here is far greater than the size of the island.”

  The explorers beheld the mysterious countryside, baffled by its very existence.

  Finally, Shezar said, “There is plenty of space and terrain in which a sizeable force could hide. We should retreat to the citadel and organize units for reconnaissance. Already someone could have easily flanked us and cut off our escape route. We have no idea what has been living in this city. Do you not see? It is too clean.”

  “Exactly,” Rezkin replied. “Nothing lives within the city.”

  “Perhaps there is a reason for that,” Shezar countered.

  Rezkin studied the striker for a moment. His voice was cold and unfamiliar as he said, “You would deny my claim to the city?”

  “What?” Shezar exclaimed in confused exasperation. “No, nothing of the sort. I am just saying … look there,” he said pointing to the wild garden. “Nature takes its hold when it can. But, the life stops there. You can see the line. Nothing grows beyond it. Something is either keeping the life out or is killing everything within—without leaving a trace.”

  “Which makes it much easier for us to occupy,” Rezkin agreed.

  “That is not what I am saying, and you know it,” Shezar said, now nearly certain the young king had lost his mind.

  Rezkin turned back down the path that led into the city. “We will return to the warehouse. Shezar, you will oversee the reconnaissance and scouring of the city for signs of life.”

  Shezar released a breath. That, at least, was sensible. With a suspicious glance toward his liege’s back, Shezar asked, “What will you be doing during that time?”

  “I will be exploring the palace, of course,” said Rezkin, as though it were obvious.

  Ignoring the disapproving glare directed his way, Rezkin stepped across the demarcation between the untamed garden and the dead city. Shielreyah Yeshri reappeared in front of him, also wearing a disgruntled expression. The shielreyah examined Rezkin with a critical eye. His wispy facial features relaxed, as he was apparently satisfied with what he found.

  “What is it, Shielreyah?” Rezkin asked as he passed the phantom warrior.

  The specter bowed and said, “I seek only to ensure your well-being, Spirétua Syek-lyé.”

  “Did you have reason for concern?” Rezkin asked, his tension mounting.

  “Not as such, Spirétua. Our power is tied to Caellurum. We cannot follow or see beyond the corveua …” Yeshri paused, his face a mask of deliberation. “The boundary, perhaps. My apologies, Spirétua. This term does not translate properly.”

  “Sire,” Striker Shezar interrupted. “Would you please join me in the garden for a moment?”

  Yeshri narrowed ghostly white orbs at the striker and said, “Spirétua Syek-lyé, the warrior seeks to lure you beyond the limits of my protection. His motives are not to be trusted.”

  Shezar’s attention snapped to the shielreyah. “I am a striker, sworn to serve and protect my king. My motives are honorable and just. It is your intent that should be questioned!”

  Rezkin glanced between the phantom and the striker as his temples began to throb. This was exactly the sort of outworlder drama he had hoped to avoid upon waking. Rezkin did not believe Shezar held ill intent; but, then again, the striker had been acting strangely, questioning Rezkin’s decisions and insisting he be guarded every moment, day and night. Perhaps Shezar was not guarding Rezkin so much for his own safety as he was monitoring him. That made more sense. Rezkin did not need to be protected, but it was reasonable that people would feel threatened by him and desire to track his movements. The striker could seek to arrest control from Rezkin now that they had found a place of refuge.

  A fiery red blade appeared between Rezkin and the striker as the shielreyah stood poised to strike.

  “It attacks!” Shezar shouted as he immediately drew his own sword and jumped back beyond the corveua.

  Wesson quickly formed a ward between Rezkin and the shielreyah, and Tam grasped Waylen’s shoulder, jerking him back into the garden.

  Rezkin shook his head to clear the fog that had taken hold. His temples throbbed, and he could tell, now, that he was not thinking clearly. Shezar was a man who, with little more than an ambiguous assignment of power by a dead king and the mere hope of serving someone less treacherous than the current king, chose to stand against Caydean and serve a mysterious dark warrior. Although Rezkin was certain Shezar had carried out terrible acts in service to his former liege, the striker’s eagerness to believe in Rezkin’s claim to the throne was proof of the man’s desire for freedom and redemption from such tyranny.

  Rezkin’s eyes landed on the shielreyah, and the phantom abruptly retook his former non-threatening stance. He stepped past the specter, passing through Wesson’s ward as he rejoined the others in the wild garden. Shezar was still on guard, ready to defend himself should the phantom attack. Tam and Waylen had also drawn their swords but appeared decidedly less confident.

  “You may stand down,” Rezkin stated. “He will not attack.”

  “Only because we are beyond his reach,” Shezar muttered as he sheathed his sword.

  Rezkin searched the striker’s eyes for any hint of the man’s thoughts. “So you believe him in this, at least?”

  The striker shot the phantom a withering glare, although the wraith presumably could not see him. “I believe it about as much as I believe he serves your will. I hardly think you had intents on attacking me.”

  Rezkin cocked his head as he stared at the striker but did not refute the statement or provide assurance.

  Catching the implication, Shezar’s eyes turned to pained betrayal. “You did intend to attack me?” he exclaimed in disbelief.

  With furrowed brow, Rezkin’s face was a mask of concern and confusion. “I … I am not certain. For a moment, my mind was as if in a fog ...”

  He abruptly caught himself. He was not supposed to show such weakness. He could not confess to the striker that he had not been fully in control of his faculties. He shook his head and smiled broadly as he gripped the striker’s shoulder in a sign of camaraderie.

&nbs
p; “It is nothing, a momentary lapse in focus. The shielreyah must have mistaken a minor irritation for something more serious. We must return to the others now and get our explorations underway.”

  At that Rezkin, turned and proceeded back up the cobbled street toward the citadel. Shezar’s hand whipped out and grasped Wesson’s arm, momentarily preventing the mage from following the young king.

  “Something is not right with the king,” Shezar said. “It started when he touched that door. I do not believe he is recovered, and I fear these phantoms have something to do with it.”

  “You think he is under a spell?” Wesson asked. He had not noticed anything particularly strange that morning until the shielreyah drew its blade, but he was not accustomed to the practices of warriors.

  “I’ve noticed it, too,” Tam said. “He seems … I don’t know … hostile.”

  “He did say that he had no desire to deal with people today,” Waylen said. “Perhaps he did not sleep well.”

  The striker frowned in dismissal of the young lord, but Waylen was not to be deterred.

  “Think about it,” he insisted. “Rezkin is always on alert. You have seen what he does when he enters a room in which he intends to stay for a while. He searches the entire room for traps and poisons … every time he enters … even if he is only gone for a few minutes. I imagine being in this strange place with so many people depending on him is stressful. I would probably be a little grumpy, too.”

  “A little grumpy? That wraith nearly attacked me!” Shezar spat. Turning to Wesson, the striker said, “You need to keep an eye on him. Find a way to search him for spells or enchantments or whatever it is you do. Maybe he is ill or injured. I do not know, but you must figure it out.”

  Wesson’s eyes widened. “I am not a healer, Striker Shezar. I am not the right person for the job.”

  Shezar shook his head. “It must be you. He trusts you, at least more than most of us. He will not let the other mages near, especially if those phantoms are influencing him in some way.”