by James Fuller
Knowing full well this was his only chance, Astaroth focused on the ground around the wizard’s feet. The ground beneath the wizard softened to mud and he sank down into it, up to his neck before the ground hardened once more. Astaroth forced the earth tighter around the trapped wizard, constricting the air from his lungs and cracking bones.
“You… w…ill…pay for… this…” the wizard whispered out before the lack of air forced his eyes to roll into the back of his head.
“Help me!”
He went to Keithen who was curled up in the dirt and rolled him over. His wounds went straight through his chest and out his back. Astaroth knew Keithen was moments away from death if he did not help him, and after considering his position, ran to the boy…
Chapter 5
“Save us, Meath, please save us!” Nicolette cried, as a group of faceless men rushed from the tree line with wicked blades drawn.
“Look out!” Meath screamed, trying to run to them, but his legs refused to follow his command.
“There are too many of them, I cannot hold them off!” Zehava cried out, as several of the faceless brutes overtook him easily, stabbing and hacking him to the ground.
Again Meath tried to run, and again he was denied, as if some mystical force was holding him in place. All he could do was watch and witness the horror before him.
“Zehava!” Dahak yelled, seeing his friend defeated - he turned to run to his aid, but was stopped short as several arrows exploded through his chest. He dropped to his knees, gasping in defeat.
“Nooooo!” Meath cried, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face, his hands outstretched, trying to get closer to his fallen comrades.
Cries from the side pulled Meath’s attention as Shania was thrown to the ground, a cruel blade punching down into her abdomen.
“Meath!” Nicolette cried and Meath’s eyes went to hers. “Please Meath; I do not want to die… I love you, Meath… please help me… I thought you loved me, Meath!” She begged.
He watched as she fell to her knees, the overwhelming odds swarming, her eyes never leaving his. Looks of betrayal and confusion radiated from them - asking him why he was not helping them, why he had let this happen and just stood by watching.
Uncontainable rage flared through him as the faceless men stalked over to Nicolette, their weapons slick with his fallen friends’ blood. He focused everything he had into his Gift, every ounce of anger, rage, hurt and love till he felt like he was going to explode, but again nothing happened when he tried to release it. He closed his eyes but it did not help - he could still hear her screams and the demonic cackles of the faceless men as they dragged her away to unspeakable horrors.
Meath’s tear-encrusted eyes opened slowly, the bright sun shining through his small window and stung his sensitive eyes; but he did not flinch or hide his head - he took the discomfort numbly. It had been four days since he had exhausted himself physically and mentally within the clearing and he had not left his room since. He had spent his days in bed from the fatigue of his tremendous release. Even after he had recovered most of his strength, he was not inclined to leave the room. Every time he closed his eyes, the images of his friends dying flashed before him and when he slept, the nightmare just replayed over and over in his mind.
Meath rolled over; his body stiff from lack of movement. His eyes caught his reflection within the bronze water jug that rested on the bedside table. He scoffed at the pathetic sight and rolled his head the other way, his mood darkening. The light bit into his eyes again and he turned his head back, trying to avoid eye contact with himself, but he could not help looking. How deteriorated and feeble he looked. He sank further into depression - he should have died with them, but he had not. Instead he was here, feeling sorry for himself… for events that had been far out of his control.
He forced himself out of bed and to get dressed in the clothes that had been awaiting him. He splashed his face with the cool water within the washbowl, rinsing away the salty stains around his eyes. He glanced in the mirror and was surprised to see somewhat of a resemblance to the man he had been.
He went to his window. It was dawn; the sun had only been out for a short time. He glanced around and realized no one was up yet. He wondered if Tabitha would come and see him, as she had every morning. He almost felt badly for the way he acted and treated her when she came around - he was always so cold and callous towards her. None of this was her fault or her doing.
Meath left his room and went down the elaborate hallway. With no one awake yet, he might be able to enjoy the peace and serenity of Salvas. He exited the building and wondered how long it would be until anyone noticed him missing from his room. The freshness of the air filled his lungs and he was shocked again at how different it truly was here. He wasted no time and began walking - he did not know where he was going, he did not care - he just needed to be out.
“Good morning, Meath.” Tabitha announced after a light knock on the door before she let herself in. “How are you feeling today?” She asked, looking at the empty bed and then around the empty room.
“Where did you go, Meath?” She whispered to herself, running outside where she had seen Kara and Daden.
“Have either of you seen Meath?” She asked, worry in her tone.
“I figured he was still crying in his room.” Daden replied smugly and received a glare from both Tabitha and Kara.
“No, I have not,” Kara replied. “You do not think he is trying to escape?”
Panic spread across Tabitha’s face at the thought. “I did not even think of that!”
“I will help you look for him.”
“I will check by the grove I took him to…you check by the cliff’s edge,” Tabitha told her. “Daden, if you do not hear back from one of us by noon, you had better tell Zada.”
Meath stood in a lightly wooded area - majestic, ancient evergreens standing proud and absolute around him. A soft breeze drifted through the branches, causing them to sway in a slow, methodical dance. It was a serene moment, one that was lost on him.
He stood no more than an arm’s reach away from the magical veil that surrounded Salvas. A thick black line of ash scarred the earth and up the cliff’s edge, across the tree line in both directions as far as his eyes could see. Even if he was not Gifted, he would have been able to feel the tremendous power that radiated off the practically transparent wall which shrouded the magical community. Now that he stood in front of it, he could see the vast differences from the world outside to the world within. The colors of the trees, grass, bushes and even the ground seemed dirty and faded, as if the thousands of years since their beginning had aged them like worn leather. The skies held the biggest difference - within Salvas the sky was the brightest blue Meath had ever seen, and had he not witnessed it, he would have doubted such a color could exist. Outside though…it was dull, faded, a poor imitation of the color within Salvas.
He wondered what would truly happen if he pushed his hand through; what was stopping him from stepping through to freedom? Zada had said that to go through the veil without the proper items could be deadly, but was she telling the truth or just instilling fear, so he would not try and leave?
Then again, was freedom really on the other side? What was left for him out there now? The only person he cared about that might be alive was Ursa, and Meath could not know if he was still alive. He held his hand up to the mystical veil, not more than a finger span away. His body quivered slightly as the rare power of the veil seemed to touch his own innate gifts, mingling with them in some familiar supernatural connection that took Meath’s breath away.
“Be careful, Meath,” a familiar voice said from behind him.
Meath shifted his glance to see Kara standing not far away. “Why bother being careful, if I no longer care?” Meath asked dryly.
Kara sighed, seeing the depth of his pain in his eyes. “There are still things to care about, Meath.”
“And what should I care about, Kara?” Meath asked, looking b
ack at the veil and out into the dulled world beyond. “Everything I knew and cared about has been killed or destroyed.”
“But you were not,” she reminded him. “There is more to the world than just your side of it, Meath. You cannot bring your friends back, but that does not mean you cannot make new friends or make a new life for yourself.”
“To what purpose?” Meath sneered back. “To watch them die too?”
“To whatever purpose you wish it to be, Meath.” Kara took a step closer. “But one thing I know for sure - if you die, your friends died for nothing. Without you, vengeance and justice cannot be had.” The lie of his friend’s death stung her soul and she wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth. Yet, for the greater good, she did not.
Meath took a deep breath, his hand lowering to his side again. “I want to know why I am here, and I want to know now.” He turned to her, his eyes burned with misery, hate and promise. “No more avoiding it, no more telling me when I am ready, I want to know now.”
“Okay, Meath, but I am not the one that has the answers you seek.”
Meath rounded the side of the small, rugged cabin and entered a vivid, serene garden. The sight of it nearly took his breath away and the first thing that came to his mind was how he would love to show this to Nicolette. He quickly suppressed the thought and steeled his nerves. He followed the smooth, white stone walkway to a large limestone pond in the center of the garden which illuminated rich colors off its shiny surface.
Meath stopped before the pond and watched Zada. She was standing with her back to him, working delicately with small shears on a small, uniquely twisted tree. Each snip smoothed the features of the exotic plant and brought forth a beautiful, living art form.
“I want answers,” Meath said, his tone hard.
Zada paused her pruning for a brief moment, before continuing, seemingly ignoring him.
Meath moved closer, anger in his steps. “I will not be ignored! You owe me answers and I will not leave without them.”
“I am not ignoring you, Meath. I would never do that. I am merely wondering where to start,” Zada replied, not turning to look at him.
“You can start by telling why you forced me here against my will,” He growled.
“Yes…I guess that is as good as place as any.” She put the small shears down on a table and turned to face him. “We share a common enemy, Meath, one that has affected us both greatly in more ways than one. The man who has infiltrated Draco Kingdom under the clever disguise of the Zandorian Prince is the root of both our problems and many more to thousands of people…if something is not done to stop him.”
“That does not answer my question, but I will play along. Who is he and how do you know him?”
Zada broke eye contact, trying to hide the indignity that she knew was more than evident in her eyes. She reached for a clay pitcher of water and poured two cups before offering one to Meath.
Meath made no move towards the offered drink. “I will not be influenced by pleasantries! Answer the question.”
Zada nodded apologetically and restored the second cup, but did not drink from hers. “His name is Astaroth and I know him well, possibly better than anyone else. He was born and raised here in Salvas and he is my…” her words caught in her throat, “…son.”
Meath nearly staggered back a step in disbelief. “What?”
“That is right, Meath - the man who is causing this colossal wave of events that has rippled both our worlds… is of my own flesh and blood,” she confessed again - this time her voice more controlled. “It is not something I am proud to acknowledge, but the truth seldom is. I gave birth to that demented soul and I am afraid I taught him nearly everything he knows. It pains me to my very core every morning I wake to know that I unleashed such a curse upon this world.”
Meath wanted to retort a vile backlash of curses at her, yet he could not. He could tell by the tears threatening to escape her eyes and the slight tremble of her jaw that she would be forever tormented by the truth of her words. He swallowed back the bitterness as best he could, knowing it would not help him receive the answers he so desperately needed. “Why is he doing this? What does he want?”
Zada’s sigh was almost one of relief that he had not lashed out his anger. “He believes he has been robbed of his birthright. And in essence, he has.”
“What birthright is that?” Meath asked, growing impatient.
Zada sat down on one of the granite benches within her garden and stared down into her cup of water. “He was to be the next leader of Salvas and he would have been…had I not denied him such a right. A memory that pains me deeply. I did not want to, yet he left me no alternative.” She paused for a moment, her eyes distant as she swirled the crystal-clear liquid. “Astaroth was always eager to learn and showed great potential in everything he did. He craved the admiration - not just from me but from anyone who would offer it. But he was easily jealous of others who were granted knowledge or advanced quicker than him. It got to the point where he was sabotaging others, in the hopes of gaining favor. It took a long time for me to see it for what it was, and then, even longer to stop him.” She paused and took a sip of the cool water. “Myself and several others confronted him and in doing so, he became distant and shut himself off from the rest of Salvas. Slowly, he began to grow cold towards everyone. The only one who was able to connect with him was Vashina, an orphan girl we took in a few years previously. It was my hope that her friendship would bring him back to us… but it did not.” She placed the cup down, got up from the bench and began pacing around the pond. “One morning, the bodies of three new arrivals were discovered -little more than husks. It was the torment they suffered, having their Gift extracted. I prayed that it was not his doing, but I knew the truth.” She paused again, and looked off into the distance.
Meath was about to ask her what happened next, when she continued. “When I found them, they were moments away from doing the same to another. They were taken into custody, but before punishment could be enacted, they escaped and vanished. We sent others in search of them but they never returned, so it is assumed Astaroth and Vashina killed them.”
Meath sat on the stone bench opposite of Zada and ran his hands through his long brown hair, his mind swirling. “So what do I have to do with all of this?”
Zada smiled faintly. “You are the key to stopping him.”
“You believe I can stop him?” He laughed aloud. “I am but a mere apprentice and my father, Ursa - who is a formidable wizard - was nearly killed by him. What makes you believe I would fare any better than those you have already sent?”
“What do you know of visions?”
Meath was taken aback by the sudden, random question. “Not a lot, just that some Gifted individuals get them haphazardly.”
“Here in Salvas we have four Gifted members who have been blessed with foresight. We call them Prophets and they have had many visions of the future - most have proven accurate, others not so.”
“I am not here to have a lesson; what does this have to do with me?” Meath interrupted her sternly, his stomach twisting with dread.
“One of our Prophets had a vision of who would stop Astaroth, and it was you.”
“Me? Why me?” Meath blurted out in disbelief. “How can you be so sure it was me? Visions are seldom clear to purpose.” Zada’s eyes shifted away from his again. “What is it?” Meath barked, seeing her discomfort. “What are you not telling me?”
“The vision told that a brother of blood would be his downfall.”
Meath’s face twisted in confusion, but before he could question her again, Zada continued.
“What I am about to tell you, Meath, is something I have wished to tell you your whole life. You and Astaroth were born of the same loins; you are brothers - twins, though not identical.” She could see the turmoil on Meath’s face and wondered if it had been too soon.
Meath felt the color in his face drain as the words sunk in. “What… what are you telling me?�
� He felt himself waver on the stone bench.
“I am your mother, Meath.” She told him, though it came out no louder than a whisper.
He stared at her in disbelief. “You are lying! That is impossible! I was an orphan - my parents abandoned me because I was born with the Gift and they feared what people would think.” He pushed himself to his feet, yet feared they would not hold him - surprisingly they did. “Ursa found me in the woods and saved me from death.” But even as he spoke the words, he knew she was telling the truth. Many of her facial features mimicked his own - her high cheek bones, her thin lips, the color of her hair nearly matched his own. But even if any of that did not prove it to him, her eyes were his eyes; the same shape, the same intensity, and the same vivid green.
They stared at each other for what could have been hours, before finally Meath broke the silence. “How… how can this be?”
“Yes, you were orphaned,” Zada began, “not far from where Salvas is located, placed near a road by… me.” Tears broke from the corners of her eyes and found path down her smooth cheeks.
Meath’s face contorted. “Why? Why was I the forgotten child? Why was I chosen to be discarded?” Meath questioned her angrily, taking several steps closer. “Answer me! Why?” his eyes filled with tears of an ancient betrayal never forgiven.
It took all of Zada’s willpower to steady herself. “I abandoned you within the woods that night, so that you would have a chance at life.”
Meath scoffed bitterly, fighting the assault of words that besieged his mind as he tried to force them to voice but could not.
“Halfway through my pregnancy, your father and I discovered I was carrying twins. At first, we were overjoyed with the possibilities, until one of day one of the Prophets came to give his blessing and placed his hand upon my swollen belly. He recoiled in such terror - it was as if he had placed his hand upon molten iron. He began mumbling as his mind was taken with a vision, two brothers born of the father will fight for favor, will grow to hate and will divide those of their blood. Their lust for power will quench all reason and the world will burn to ruin long before either will fall…
