“That’s a shame,” Brodan replied in a flat tone.
Aldrick scanned the immediate area. “I only see the two, and no sign of their three guards.”
Brodan frowned. “What are you insinuating Aldrick?”
“I’m just making an observation. Why so defensive Brodan?”
Brodan ignored the question, and carefully leaned over the pit to observe the carnage. “They probably returned to Akkadia after these two idiots fell. Nothing they could have done for them, after all.” With mock seriousness, the regent added, “It could be said that the stakes have been raised in this game!” He burst out laughing.
Aldrick forced a thin smile, but was appalled by this casual attitude concerning the pointless deaths of the finalist and his Second. “If this was an accident, why would the guards leave their bodies to rot? Their families will want the bodies returned.”
“We don’t have time to deal with this now,” Brodan decided. “You are the one who was crying about how far behind we are. Don’t worry. I’ll see it’s taken care of. Why don’t you scout ahead so we don’t meet a similar fate?”
Aldrick conceded, hoping the regent would do as he said. Climbing onto his horse, he tried to put the grim scene of the two impaled men out of his mind. They carefully continued northwest towards Mount Zagrias and the marker while scanning the forest floor.
They traveled without further incident for the rest of that afternoon and into the evening, arriving at the base of Mount Zagrias late that night. The remaining finalists had already arrived, and rather than risk ascending the mountain in the dark had made camp for the night in small groups. Brodan ordered his camp to be prepared apart from, but within sight of the others, and the servants scurried about setting up tents and cooking a late dinner.
Aldrick removed the saddle from his horse and was brushing the dark brown gelding when he spotted Brodan walking past. “You were wrong about one thing.”
Brodan paused on his way to his tent. “Oh? And what’s that?”
Aldrick turned, and the light of a cooking fire flickered in his eyes. “I was not the only one to decipher the first part of the riddle.”
Brodan shrugged. “It won’t matter, as long as I’m the one who carries home the crown.” Brodan suddenly stepped closer and grabbed his arm. “I need to know you will be on my side Aldrick, no matter what.”
The quiet of the dark forest was broken only by the sounds of the servants quietly preparing dinner and the crackle of the fire. Aldrick tried to read his expression, but his face was hidden in shadow. After a long pause, Aldrick replied, “Haven’t I been on your side since we were children, Brodan? What exactly are you asking me?”
Brodan glared for a moment, and then released his arm. “I can’t argue with you Aldrick. I hope in the end you will…remain true to that friendship.”
Aldrick rubbed his arm. “Brodan, you should know by now I will always do the right thing.”
Brodan shook his head and mumbled something unintelligible as he strode away.
Chapter 20
Aldrick awoke as the night sky was beginning to lighten with the early dawn, but Brodan did not rise until the sun was well above the horizon. The regent seemed in no particular hurry to leave, and by the time he had finished breakfast and was prepared to leave, the other finalists had long since departed. Aldrick was quite irritated by the delay at first, but after meditating for a time away from camp, he felt better.
Why should he care if Brodan was not the first to reach the crown? With the increasing changes in the man, was Brodan truly the best candidate? In his heart Aldrick knew he had spent so many years supporting Brodan and making excuses for him, he did not know any other way.
Mount Zagrias was not a particularly tall mountain, but the climb to the top was long. Late morning they arrived at a place where spring run-off had washed away part of the trail and it was clear that the wagons could travel no further. Brodan spent a good deal of time cursing and complaining about having to leave them behind, but in the end they had little choice. Those on horseback forged ahead, leaving most of the servants with the carts to find their way back to the city.
Later, they reached a rocky section of the trail so steep they were forced to dismount and walk the horses through the more difficult terrain. Aldrick was in the lead when he rounded a massive boulder and was confronted by a sickening sight; on a rocky ledge below the trail two mountain lions were gorging on human remains.
Brodan came up from behind and asked in a glib voice, “What’s that?”
Aldrick paled visibly as he stared at the carnage. “It looks like Sir Raleigh, son of Brenton and his son fell off the trail.”
Brodan shrugged, showing no sympathy. “People get attacked by wild animals all the time.”
Aldrick scanned the surrounding terrain. “I don’t see their guards.”
Brodan yawned. “I’m sure they went for help.”
“Wouldn’t we have seen them coming down the mountain? This is the only way up.”
“They probably went on ahead to get help from the other teams. It would take too long to go back to the city. In any case, there’s nothing we can do. Let’s keep moving.”
Aldrick wished there was time to investigate, for something was clearly amiss. Brodan barked orders to forge ahead, so Aldrick reluctantly started back up the trail, taking point once more with a scowling guard.
Late that afternoon, they arrived at the bluff-like summit and rode at an easy gait across flat, tall grassland until reaching the remains of an ancient cobblestone highway. Weeds and wild grass grew between the paving stones, many having been uprooted and broken from centuries of neglect. Yet so extraordinary was the original construction, that the line of the road into the distance remained clearly outlined.
Aldrick reined in and took a long pull from his water skin as Brodan called a break. He gazed ahead as Brodan sidled up next to him. “This road should lead us straight to the Oracle stones.”
Brodan snorted. “Not much of a road, is it?”
Aldrick took a deep breath and stared off into the distance, not focusing on any one thing in particular. “It used to be. This was a major highway before the Great War.”
Aldrick closed his eyes and exhaled, thinking about what the road and the Oracle Stones must have been like, so long ago. Images swirled, and seemed to come to life in his mind. He saw a tall man standing in the midst of a ring of ancient stones gazing at a shiny golden shield engraved in the center with an image of a gigantic tree. Aldrick could not see his face, but there was a sense of familiarity to the man.
The stranger ran a finger down the engraving, slowly tracing the path of a branch down to the trunk of the tree. He turned abruptly and strode out of the ring of stones, his gait steady and sure. The image began to fade, but not before Aldrick saw a hazy ring of phosphorescence appear above his head, as if he wore a crown fashioned of light.
“Aldrick, what’s wrong with you?” Brodan demanded. “Answer me!”
Aldrick shook his head. “What?”
“I asked how far we are from the Oracle Rocks.”
Aldrick gulped some water and stashed his water skin back in his saddlebag. “Oracles Stones.”
“Rocks, stones, whatever! How far are they?”
Aldrick massaged his temple. “Not far.”
“Then let’s go!”
Aldrick could not keep his mind from wandering as they rode, following the remains of the dilapidated ancient highway. He seemed to be having these dreams and swirling images with greater frequency and realism. Now he was having them while awake. This vision of the unknown man at the Oracle Stones in particular seemed important, and although he had not seen the face of the stranger, the sense of familiarity was quite strong.
Aldrick remained deep in thought, hardly noticing when they arrived at the ruins of the ancient temple, which men now called the Oracle Stones. While the original use of the temple had been lost, the engineering required to move the massive stones from th
e nearest quarry located in distant Illyria, was daunting to say the least. The remains of the mysterious circle of megalithic stones stood in the center of a large area of ruins.
Most of the surrounding structures had collapsed completely over the ages, but small sections of the ancient city remained partially intact. In the immediate area around the temple, the buildings had been blackened and heavily damaged, most leaning so severely they verged on collapse. No one had lived here since Sargon the Destroyer had scourged the area in the Great War, and today the solitary ring of stone behemoths were nearly all that stood in tribute to a once great civilization.
They rode into the temple between two of the great stones, and Aldrick was stunned at the similarity between the sight before him, and the image of his daydream. He had read references, but having never visited this place, there was no logical reason he should know what the inside of the temple looked like. Yet, it appeared exactly as he had envisioned, save for three differences.
The first noticeable difference was the obvious absence of the faceless man. While Aldrick could not explain his premonition, the image of the man with a crown of light must have been symbolic.
The second difference Aldrick noticed was that although there was a nearly exact duplicate of the shield hanging on a large stone on the far side of the temple, this one was rusted and pitted, rather than gilded in gleaming gold. From across the temple Aldrick could see the same iconic tree engraved on the shield, with its stylized branches spreading out skyward exactly as he had seen. Recognizing the image of the tree sent a chill down his spine. Once again, logic lacked an explanation for his prescience.
Aldrick saw one final distinction from his daydream; the nauseating sight of the remains of Sir Marinus, son of Cefin and his Second Elrick, who lay crumpled in the center of the temple in a pool of blood. Unlike the other bodies they had discovered, which appeared to have died accidentally, Sir Marinus and Elrick had obviously died by the sword. The smell of blood was thick in the air, and flies were buzzing around the corpses.
One of the guards assigned to Sir Marinus lay dead next to the remains of the man he was assigned to protect. There were signs of a struggle, but only the dead Sir Marinus, Elrick, or the two missing guards could have explained for certain what had occurred.
“Gilmoure!” growled Brodan, with a hand on his sword.
“What?”
“Clearly, Gilmoure is responsible for this!”
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
Brodan took a deep breath. “We have found every finalist except Gilmoure dead. Who else could be responsible?” Brodan spoke as if the matter were common knowledge.
Although the evidence was compelling, Aldrick was not ready to convict Gilmoure of these murders yet without more evidence. Also, part of him did not wish to believe the man to be the monster Brodan was portraying him to be.
“Gilmoure does not seem like the kind of man who would do something like this.”
“I wasn’t aware you knew him so well,” Brodan spat. What more evidence do you need, Aldrick? Your proof lies here in a pool of blood!”
“There is also the matter of the missing guards,” Aldrick noted, scanning the inside of the temple. “We will need to find both them and Gilmoure before we know what’s happened. The evidence here is circumstantial at best. We must remain open minded.”
“I intend to do more than find him!” Brodan growled. “I mean to see justice done!”
“That will be for the courts to decide.”
“We shall see,” Brodan reined in his anger, continuing in a calmer voice. “Let’s find this marker. We’ll worry about Gilmoure later.” The regent looked about in disgust. “The only thing in this dump is that worthless rusty shield.”
Aldrick approached the once mighty shield and saw a finger sized trail in the dust, tracing a path from an engraved branch down to the proud trunk; yet more inexplicable evidence mirroring his vision.
Following the tracing with his own finger, Aldrick marveled again at his daydream, and his vision of what had occurred here. He had been acquainted with Sir Marinus back in Ubarra, but the familiarity of the man in the image was a different feeling. He did not understand it, but the connection felt ancient.
Brodan was clearly impatient. “Where is this marker?”
Aldrick snapped out of his revelry. “We have arrived where the ‘ancients looked to the skies’. The riddle spoke of a marker, which shields the Crown from those without worth. I believe the meaning was literal. The marker is this old shield.”
“What does it tell us?”
“Our final destination could be a large tree, similar to the one depicted on the shield…hence, the ‘leaf which grows within the tree.’ The shield is hung on the north side of the temple; I would surmise the crown lies in that direction.”
Brodan smiled, his mood improving. “Let’s go.”
A short gallop brought them to the tree; much closer than Aldrick had guessed. The meaning of the ‘Magician’s Fall’ referenced in the riddle became clear as soon as Aldrick saw where the tree was located. Aldrick had read that a small rise to the north of the temple was the site of the final battle of the Great War, pictured in the painting Sargon’s Last Stand. It was here Sargon the Destroyer had finally met his end. Aldrick now recalled an obscure reference to this place, in which it was referred to as Magician’s Fall. Most people would not have heard of it, but it explained that part of the riddle. Aldrick was certain this was the correct location.
Approaching the tree, Aldrick was shocked to see that someone beside himself had not only deciphered the meaning of the riddle, they had arrived first. Standing near the tree were two men, with another three lying prone on the ground.
Brodan was one step ahead of him, and jumped down from his horse. “Hold it right there, Gilmoure! You are under arrest for the murder of my guards, and other finalists!”
Gilmoure stood with a bloody sword in one hand, and a green package in the other. Aldrick expected him to argue, but instead he surprised them all by chuckling. His sponsor Warren stood next to him, his own sword in hand, gazing back at them with an uncomfortable expression.
When the Tournament leader had recovered from his mirth he managed to say, “I knew you would try something like this Brodan. Your guards attacked me first. I only defended myself.”
“Liar!” Brodan screeched in response.
“I have proof!”
“No one cares about your so-called proof,” Brodan spat. “You will pay for this treachery Gilmoure!”
Aldrick dismounted. “I would be very interested in seeing this evidence. If he truly has proof of his innocence, he has the right…”
Brodan unsheathed his sword in a fury. “We aren’t looking at any proof! Any evidence he has is false. The crown is mine!”
“I’m afraid you are too late.” Gilmoure untied the leather thong holding the large leaf-wrapped package, and pulled out the shiny object within. Grinning, he spun the golden crown on one finger without regard for its value. “It’s a pretty little thing too.”
His revelation was followed by a shocked silence. Merely sponsored by a noble family from an out of the way northern province, this unknown contender had bested all others physically and intellectually, throughout the entire Tournament of the King. Now he had recovered the final prize, the Crown of Asturia, to become the Tournament Champion. This was the man from his vision. This was the man destined to find, and consequently wear the crown as the true king of Asturia.
For the moment however, there was still the matter of the murders. Aldrick had started towards Gilmoure to inspect his proof when Brodan growled, “Thanks for finding my crown Gilmoure. Hand it over!”
Gilmoure laughed again. “I realize you needed Aldrick to solve the riddle, since you are too stupid to decipher it yourself. But now he has seen me with it. Do you plan to kill us all? You and your three lapdogs?”
Brodan glared at Aldrick, who stood between them. “Retrieve my crown,
Aldrick. That’s an order from your future king.”
Aldrick ignored him and stepped forward. “I would like to see this proof you mentioned.”
Gilmoure nodded and handed him a folded piece of parchment. “I found this on one of the guards. I believe you will find it quite interesting.”
Brodan raised his sword as Aldrick took the parchment from Gilmoure. “That parchment changes nothing! The crown is mine!”
Aldrick opened and read the parchment, which contained a short, hand-written note in flowing script:
“Your group is assigned to Gilmoure, son of Zakhar. See that he does not return with the crown. Make it look like an accident.”
Aldrick read it again, although there could be no question as to the intent of the order. There was no signature, but Aldrick recognized the handwriting.
The Key of Creation: Book 01 - Rise of the Destroyer Page 17
