by Ronald Craft
Chapter 14
Owen held the cool glass to his forehead. He'd had headaches in the past, but never this bad. Filling in for Lord Rodach had been killing him. There were so many tasks to complete each day that he'd even started to have nightmares about his work.
It'll all be worth it in the end. Soon...
He finished the contents of the glass and set it down on the table next to his bed. Lord Rodach had been unconscious for several days and they'd still not found the man that attacked him. Owen wasn't sure who the man was or how he'd gotten into the castle, but he was determined to find out. Unfortunately, his determination was met with a wall which he couldn't surpass. All the duties of Lord Rodach on top of his own had worn him down and inhibited his investigation. Owen rolled over and closed his eyes. He just needed one good nights rest, and he'd be back on track.
Several quick knocks echoed off his door. “Master Owen? Are you awake?”
Owen opened his eyes and groaned. He shuffled over to his door and threw it open. “The castle had better be burning to the ground for you to bother me at this time of night.”
A messenger, no older than twelve winters, stood before him cowering under Owen's gaze. The boy was covered in freckles and had bright red hair which clashed with his rather plain attire. “I—I have a message for you, Master Owen.”
Owen softened his expression. “What is the message, then?”
The boy placed his hands behind his back and mumbled.
“Come again?” Owen tried his best not to wring the boy's neck. He didn't have much patience these days.
The boy spoke again, louder this time. “Lord Rodach has w—woken up, Master Owen. I was sent to tell y—”
Owen stared at the boy in disbelief. “Fool. Why didn't you tell me sooner?” He grabbed his robe off the hook and pushed past the boy.
Maybe I'll finally get some answers.
The guardsmen at the door to Rodach's room nodded and moved aside when he approached. Their expressions were neutral, but Owen knew everyone in the castle was as eager as he to know what happened on that day.
Owen hurried into the bed chamber, unsure of Rodach's condition. That all changed as soon as he spotted him. He slowed and came to a stop just inside the doorway.
The man he'd been so worried about just a moment before was propped up in his bed while a maid spoon-fed him a bowl of soup.
Rodach swallowed and met Owen's gaze. “Owen, I was quite surprised to find that you weren't weeping by my side while I was out.”
“It's hard to run the castle from your side, my Lord.” Owen answered coldly.
Rodach waved the girl away and neither of them spoke until the door clicked behind her.
The amusement from a moment earlier was gone from Rodach's voice. “I see you didn't catch the scholar.”
“My lord, I—”
Rodach cut him off. “No need to be formal when it's just the two of us, Owen.”
“As you wish.” Owen pulled up a seat and sat down next to the bed. “Rodach, what happened? How did a mere scholar not only get into the castle without anyone's knowledge but also escape the guardsmen?”
Rodach shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea, Owen. He was definitely not your average scholar.” Rodach's eyes were distant and his unkempt hair gave him the look of a wild beast.
Owen knew Rodach was hiding something. He always was whenever he had that look in his eyes. “I need to ask you something else.”
There was tension in Rodach's voice. “And that is?”
“Why was that man here?” Owen met Rodach's gaze firmly with his own.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I'm not sure what he wanted, myself.” Rodach's eyes shifted for a moment and then fixed back on Owen's own.
An obvious lie. “Some of the guardsmen saw you two walking together before he attacked you, Rodach.” Owen leaned forward in his chair and raised his eyebrows.
Rodach shrugged. “He didn't tell me much. I vaguely remember something about him wanting to ask me about an artifact I had in my possession.”
“And?”
Another flicker of his eyes. “And that's it. We arrived in my quarters and then he attacked me. How long have I been out?”
Your eyes reveal each lie you tell, my old friend. I've known you far too long for you to be able to lie to me. I'm not like the rest of your servants.
“Four days. So, he attacked you just like that? What did he attack you with?”
Rodach shrugged again. “Can't remember. It's all a blur.”
Owen cradled his head in his hands and sighed. I'm too exhausted for this.
“I see. Well, I hope you're able to recall some more of what happened later. I'll leave you for the night.” Owen pushed himself out of the chair and started towards the exit.
Rodach's voice stopped him. “What of Amaren and...the boy?”
Owen turned to face Rodach. “Not as of yet. Will there be anything else?”
Rodach looked away for a moment.
Owen blanched. “There's been no word from Amaren. We're not sure what's happened to him. Perhaps he perished?”
Rodach closed his eyes. “There's only one thing in this world that can put Amaren out of his misery. He would have returned for the Eos if he'd finished his task.”
“I'll inform you if I find out anything else. Is that all, my Lord?”
Rodach waved him away. “Again with the formality. Go get some rest, Owen.”
Owen exited the room and stormed down the hallway. It was clear that Rodach was hiding something from him. He would find out what that was. There was no way a scholar would come all the way to the castle just to question Rodach about a trinket.
Owen was far from daft. He knew that Rodach experimented with things he shouldn't have. Something that was in Rodach's possession had caught the scholar's interest.
Owen opened the door to his chambers and slammed it behind him. He leaned against the door and slowed his breathing.
There was much for him to do.
—
Rodach slipped out of bed and stood in front of a mirror. He rubbed the scar across his chest. It was a constant reminder of times he wished he could purge from his mind. The past had a way of carving itself into your body, as if making sure you'd never forget.
He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. It was because of the Order of Assassins he had this scar. The boy, Ilian, should have died years ago, yet somehow he still lived. When he'd found out what the Order had been up to he couldn't stand by and let them get their hands on the boy.
Ilian had to die.
Rodach felt a familiar chill inside his body. He knew that something still lurked inside of him. It had made his body its home and its power over him grew with each passing day. Lochien had managed to suppress it, but he it was not such an easy creature to be rid of.
There was much he still didn't understand. The scholar had called the creature a skiima. Rodach was sure he'd heard the term before, but he couldn't remember where. He threw on his favorite leathers and walked over to his lab. The place was exactly as he left it. His servants knew better than to touch anything in the room.
Rodach placed his hand on two bricks and pushed them in simultaneously. They slid inwards and a section of the wall opened to reveal a passageway. He grabbed one of the candles off the sconce and walked down into the dark depths.
There was something he had to find out.
Rodach followed the stairs downwards until he reached a barred door. He lifted the bar and pushed the door open with a squeak. Cobwebs caught onto his hair and clothes. Rodach held the candle up over his head and gazed at the contents of the room.
Shelves lined the walls, covered in old books and scrolls. He covered his nose as a musty stench assaulted his sense of smell. Rodach walked around the room and scanned the old tomes and parchments absently.
He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew his answer was close.
This underground library had been maintained for hundreds of years by his forebears. It was a resource that even the scholars would have loved to get their hands on.
Rodach ran his fingers across several books, grabbed one from the shelf and carefully flipped through it. Enchantments, alchemy, sex scandals, bastard children, assassinations, it was all here. But none of it was what he sought.
With a sigh, he leaned against the rectangular table in the center of the room. How could he find something when he wasn't sure what he was looking for? He pushed himself off the table, and it grated against the stone as it slid back away from him.
He turned around in surprise. The table appeared heavy, but it slid with ease when he leaned against it. Rodach pushed against it with his hand and it slid back several more feet.
What's that?
He knelt down and rubbed the dust from a stone that had sat beneath a leg of the table. The stone was discolored and was raised slightly higher than the stones around it.
He tried to pry it up with his fingers, but it was stuck. Rodach sighed.
It's always a hassle dealing with anything classified as ancient.
Rodach scoured the library until he found an old, silver platter littered with rusted silverware laying on the floor. No doubt that many meals had been taken down here as his ancestors scribbled down all their dark secrets onto parchment. Rodach grabbed a rusted knife from the platter and made his way back to the table. He slid the knife under the stone and pried it up enough to push out of the way.
There was a small, black book under it. A bug skittered away from the candlelight and burrowed under another one of the stones. Rodach grabbed the book and opened it to the first page. The pages were brittle and much of the writing faded, but he could just barely make it out in the dim candlelight.
Celestine, year 348 of the Hound. I have recently returned from my trip to the Dark Lands. There, I discovered some sort of chest. We have been unsuccessful in opening it thus far, but I feel that we will soon have its secrets.
Rodach stared in disbelief. He was sure they were talking about the Arguros chest. This journal was written over three hundred years before he was even born.
How can this be?
He scanned the contents of several more pages.
Celestine, year 350 of the Jackel. It has been nearly two years since we brought back this cursed chest. Until now, it has eluded our efforts to open it. I have finally found the answer, though! In celebration of my success, I have changed the royal seal to that of the Jackel. I feel that is a fitting persona for this... power. It flows through me. I can feel the strength in my veins. Our enemies will know fear once more as I bring this new power to the front lines.
Some of the pages were torn out. Rodach was definitely not the first one to find this journal.
How many before me have read these same pages? Why was this hidden from me?
Rodach flipped to the back of the journal and read the last entry. The creature inside of him stirred, and a hollow laugh rang inside his mind.
Celestine, year 351 of the Serpent. I have been betrayed. Betrayed by the very thing inside of me. It threatens to tear me apart even now. I had my most trusted knight bring the chest back to the Dark Lands. I hope that none will ever venture there and repeat my mistake. I am losing myself. It won't be much longer now before it consumes me. I'm not sure what will happen to this world. To my people. It—It won't be long now. I tried to take my life, but it wouldn't let me. Now I have no choice. I must do the only thing that will save my people and this world. I have to return to the Dark Lands and confront its true form. I only hope that I am strong enough and the gods will hear this one last prayer from me.
Rodach flipped the page over, but there were no other entries. What did it mean by facing the creatures true form? What was in the dark lands?
He placed the stone back and pocketed the journal. Rodach exited the room and closed the door behind him before heading back up the steps. He mulled over everything he'd read and came to but one conclusion.
It was time for him to return to the Dark Lands.
