Desire (Legends of the Kilanor Book 3)

by Jared Stone

  Charon scowled. “You will not succeed by appealing to my compassion or charity,” he stated. “True, your charisma seems to engender you to others, but look where it has led them. Argus. Willow. Lilly. Blake. Kazimierz. They all put their faith in you, and they have all ended up worse for it. And yet you fancy yourself the heroic savior. Why is it, do you think, that everyone around you meets with such terrible fates?”

  Lucian felt tears welling up in his eyes. It was almost too much for him to handle. He felt so overwhelmed by everything. “I don’t know!” he cried out.

  “That is not good enough,” the ferryman demanded. “You believe you are fit to save this world when you cannot even overcome your own faults? How will you succeed, Lucian Aarden? What will you do?”

  Lucian knelt there, trembling with a mixture of anger and helplessness, feeling tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. He closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth, restraining himself with every last ounce of his self-control.

  You can’t get angry, Lucian, he commanded himself sternly. This gate is called ‘Wrath,’ and look how Blake and Schuntz ended up! You’ve gotta let go of all this anger. Just calm down. Calm down and let it go.

  Lucian sucked in a deep breath, attempting to steady his shaking arms. “What do I need to do to pass?” he asked Charon again through a tight jaw and cracking vocal cords.

  “Are you truly foolish enough to believe that you have what it takes to succeed here?” Charon inquired cruelly. “Admit it, Lucian. You are a failure. You have failed everyone you know. And now you even fail yourself.”

  "What do I need to do to pass?" Lucian repeated forcefully. He focused on this string of words almost like a mantra, with their repetition working to settle his wild mind and rein in his almost uncontrollable urge to attack the man in front of him.

  “You are truly as dimwitted as you are incompetent,” Charon stated. “You seek to kill me with questions, now? Or have you already abandoned all hope of formulating any other useful plan of action?”

  Perfect partner in practicing patience…, Lucian reminded himself, recalling what Gus had taught him at Deer Park. This guy is nothing but a bully. You can’t stoop to a bully’s level and win. Just view him as your perfect partner….

  “Look, I would really appreciate it if we could move on from my failures and work together on helping me succeed here,” Lucian stated with as even-keeled a voice as he could muster. “I’m sure my friends down there don’t have much time left, and you’re not being very helpful with all your pointless insults.”

  “Your misguided attempts at pacifism are futile and pathetic,” Charon goaded. “Look within yourself. You are filled with justifiable rage. You despise me and wish to strike me down. Do it, Lucian. Take the action that is needed to be the hero. Rely on your anger to drive you to your deserved victory to save your allies.”

  Don’t listen to him, Lucian reminded himself. Gus told you that anger can only blind you to compassion, patience, and understanding. This guy’s just trying to trick you into getting mad. Be the bigger man, Lucian.

  “I’m not going to fight you,” Lucian insisted, finally standing up in front of the giant guardian. “Anger and violence clearly isn’t going to get me anywhere. Anger is never the answer. So, I’m gonna stand here asking you to help me pass this challenge until you do it. And nothing you say or do is going to make me fight you.”

  Feeling a new sense of level-headed resolve, Lucian confidently wiped away the drying tears from his face and looked up at the massive man who stood before him. Charon now wore a softer look on his face, and the fire that had once raged in his eyes had died down to merely glowing embers.

  “The ability to acknowledge your emotions and let them go in favor of rational discourse is the first step toward success, Lucian Aarden,” he said in a much gentler tone than he had used since they arrived. “Belligerence and anger will never generate the out-come you seek. Let go of the burden of fear and rage, and allow your patience and compassion to guide you to victory.”

  With this, Charon raised his hand. Lucian felt the pliable layer beneath him vibrate and saw two holes begin to form in the green muck. From these, Blake and Schuntz both burst their heads out of the water with deep, heaving breaths.

  “Blake! Professor!” Lucian exclaimed in joy as he helped both men out of the water and back onto the strange gelatinous surface. Now free from the aquatic prison beneath them, they both needed some time in the air to fully recover, spitting out water and taking in big, harried breaths.

  “What… the… Hell…?” Blake sputtered, coughing up black water. “I almost… died again….”

  Lucian laughed in relief. “But you didn’t!” he said, laying his hand on his roommate’s back. “I think we passed the challenge.”

  Lucian then looked up at Charon, who still gazed down upon them, seeming almost proud. “Yes, you have done admirably, Lucian Aarden,” the ferryman affirmed. “You and your companions may pass through to the next realm.”

  With this, the giant guardian raised his hand again. From beside him, a great wooden boat rose up out of the muck and floated atop the water beneath.

  “This vessel shall carry you to the gate you seek,” Charon instructed, motioning toward the boat. “But, be forewarned. Your trials are not yet over. Further tests of your conviction and merits await on the other side.”

  “Yeah, we guessed that,” Blake muttered spitefully as he climbed up into the boat. He clearly still held a grudge against the ferryman for what had been said before. “Just get us the Hell outta here.”

  Once Lucian and Schuntz had similarly climbed on board, Charon nodded once and the boat began to drift forward through the waters ahead. The ferryman raised his hand in one final gesture of farewell. Lucian raised his hand in return to be polite, though he was conflicted about whether or not he should really be courteous to the guardian after what had just transpired.

  The three companions drifted on in silence for some time, each still preoccupied with what had been revealed about them through that challenge. Finally, Lucian spoke up.

  “Professor,” he began. “What was that guy saying about a daughter back there? Do you have kids?”

  Schuntz wore a sour look on his face. “Mr. Aarden, there are still some matters which I would prefer to leave in the past,” he responded gruffly. That seemed all he was willing to say on the subject.

  Soon, the boat ran aground onto a rocky shore on the opposite end of the swamp. Further up on the sloped gravel, Lucian could see the glow of gray energy within the next gate. The three travelers climbed out of the vessel and walked up to the base of the portal.

  “So, you said Sloth was next, professor?” Lucian asked gently, still feeling a little guilty for bringing up a touchy personal subject earlier.

  The professor read the word above the door. “Yes. ‘Mímótór.’ It is ‘defilement of desire for inaction,’ ‘Lethargy,’ or ‘Sloth,’” the professor validated.

  “God, let’s just hope the challenge is taking a nap or something,” Blake mumbled, clearly physically and emotionally exhausted as he sauntered through the gray energy field.

  13 - Smoldering

  1854 CE: U.S. Territories

  “Dareia…,” Argus began as the two of them walked calmly through densely-packed pine trees. “Remind me again of why we are doing this?”

  Dareia looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “You are not having second thoughts now, are you, Argus?” she asked him. “This vulgar man has stolen something which belongs to the Queen Goddess. We are to take it back, as well as punish the thief for his transgressions. He deserves what is coming to him.”

  Argus stayed silently pensive for a moment. “But, are we sure that he knew what he was doing?” he asked. “It would be a shame to unjustly punish an ignorant man for his mistakes. What if he simply found this thing? Or perhaps had it given to him as a gift by someone else?”

  Dareia nodded back at Argus seriously. “Oh, he most certainly u
nderstood what he was doing and the consequences for such an act,” she stated. “Like many mortals, he desires power. Desires it so much that he shall go to any lengths and risk any retribution to attain it.”

  Argus thought about this for a minute, then sighed. “Then I am at peace with his fate,” he conceded. “Anyone who knowingly breaks the law should be brought to justice, especially if the punishments for those actions were fully understood before the crime was committed.”

  Dareia smiled. “Wonderful,” she said. “Then let us stop all this worrying, shall we? It is time to enjoy the hunt….”

  At this, the priestess pointed ahead of her. There, through the forest, Argus could see the unblemished, whitewashed exterior of a large plantation mansion. The rounded entranceway was supported by thick wooden pillars, and two wings shot out to either side of the center doorway. It was certainly not the grandest structure Argus had ever seen in his time on this earth, but it was evident that the owner of the estate possessed considerable wealth for his position in the new territories.

  “He is in there?” Argus asked.

  “This is his primary residence,” Dareia affirmed. “Whether he is in there or not, I cannot be certain. But it is the first place we must look if we are to track him down.”

  Argus nodded. “So, should we wait here for nightfall, then?” he asked the priestess. “To attack when they are unprepared?”

  Dareia smirked. “And why should we do that?” she inquired playfully. “I do not wish to make it too easy….”

  Saying no more than this, the priestess continued walking confidently in the direction of the mansion, her form-fitting white dress trailing along the ground behind her. Over her shoulder she had slung a satchel which she had carried with her since their departure from Rome, though she had yet to reveal its contents to her traveling companion. Argus followed along behind her, simply amused by Dareia’s predictable response. The two of them strode confidently out of the forest and directly toward the front door. Before they could reach it, however, they encountered two rough-looking men standing guard in the middle of the long driveway. One of these men held up his hand to signal that they should halt their approach.

  “Iden’fy yerselfs,” the man said brusquely, clearly not constrained by the need for false pleasantries.

  Though Argus paused cautiously upon hearing this, Dareia continued to strut forward without regard for the man’s command. As she passed directly through the center of the two, he grabbed hold of her arm.

  “Hey there! I’m talkin’ to ya, lady!” the man shouted angrily, squeezing his grip around the bare skin of the priestess’ slender arm.

  The last thing the man ever saw was the emerald flash of the priestess’ eyes before her nails scratched brutally across his own. Grabbing at his face, the man let out a scream and dropped to the ground. Seeing what had happened to his partner, the other guard brought the rifle he had held at his side up to his shoulder and took aim. But it was too late, as Dareia had already grabbed the barrel and tore it out of the man’s grip with little effort. Tossing it to the side, the priestess then dug her nails into the guard’s throat, tearing them out again viciously and sending him crashing to the ground in a gurgling shower of blood. Dareia stood there calmly afterwards, summarily wiping her hands off on her dress in long crimson streaks.

  “Well, shall we continue on, then?” she inquired of Gus pleasantly over the wails of the writhing blind man on the ground. Twirling around, the priestess resumed her march on the enemy stronghold. Argus began moving forward again as well, careful to avoid stepping in the mess the priestess had made.

  “Dareia,” Argus said, once he had caught up to her, “I do not know if that level of violence was truly necessary. We likely could have just tied them up or something….”

  Dareia allowed a smirk to creep across her face as she glanced at Argus out of the corner of her eye. “Argus,” she said amidst brisk strides, “your concern for the welfare of others, while adorable in its own right, is, at times, highly irksome. Those men quite deliberately stood in the way of our goals. I needed to dispose of them expediently.”

  This dismissal of her companion’s protests seemed all she was willing to say on the matter, as she remained silent after this, eyes fixated on the white plantation mansion before her. Without any further resistance to her advance, she reached the front steps and boldly ascended to stand before the oaken door. Looking back to ensure Argus was still standing by her side, she reached up and banged three times against the wooden barricade with her fist. She then waited, but no sound could be heard from within.

  “James Richardson!” Dareia called out. “I have come on behalf of the Great Mother Goddess, Hera, to retrieve that which has been stolen from Her. If you surrender now, I vow that your death shall be quick and painless!”

  After this, the priestess waited in silence, tilting her ear toward the door in an effort to better hear any response from inside. But there was none.

  “Honestly, I would not have responded very eagerly to such a greeting, either…,” Argus advised the priestess timidly. Dareia breathed out a frustrated puff of air and banged her fist loudly upon the front door yet again.

  “James, this is your final opportunity to willingly surrender yourself and the artifact to the divinely appointed representatives of the Mother Goddess,” Dareia clarified, clearly becoming more upset with each passing second. “Otherwise, I shall have to deal with you as I see fit….”

  Once again, no sound could be heard from within the mansion. Dareia then smiled.

  “I was hoping it would come to this,” she admitted to Argus. Motioning toward the door in front of them, she added, “Would you be so willing as to assist me with this, my dear?”

  Argus couldn’t help but smile widely at the priestess’ effort to include him, though he knew she truly needed no assistance in such matters. “Of course, My Lady,” he consented with a playful bow.

  “Oooo. I could certainly learn to enjoy being called that,” Dareia told Argus with a wink.

  Taking his position before the door, Argus lifted his leg up in front of him. “Hya!” he screamed as the sole of his boot landed a well-aimed kick above the curved bronze handle. With an explosion of shattered wood splinters, the door burst open and slammed against the inner wall of the mansion. Dareia smiled and curtsied.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she said playfully before she gracefully strode through the open entrance and into the foyer. Argus followed behind, grinning ear to ear.

  “JAMES!” Dareia roared into the high, open halls of the building around them. Other than the priestess’ voice echoing back at them, they heard nothing in the seemingly abandoned home.

  “Dareia,” Argus interjected, “perhaps there is truly no one here right now.”

  Dareia shot a look of derision over at Argus. “And they simply placed two guards on the road to protect an otherwise empty plantation home? Use your head, Argus. They are clearly hiding something here.”

  Argus was silent after this, slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t put those pieces together for himself. Without further speculation, he quietly crept forward and peered around the doorframe into one of the adjacent rooms.

  “You search in that direction,” Dareia instructed, motioning over toward where Argus stood. “I shall go this way.”

  Argus nodded once to confirm and carefully stepped over the threshold into what appeared to be a dining room.

  “And, Argus…,” Dareia’s voice called out before he had entirely exited the foyer. He turned around to once again look at the priestess, who now wore a mischievous smirk on her face.

  “Please do not die again,” she pleaded in a light manner, “for it is highly inconvenient every time I must wait for you to reach adulthood.”

  Argus just let out a short chuckle and continued on in the direction he had been headed. The room he now entered was primarily occupied by a long table in the center with a silver chandelier hanging over it. Two candlesticks also ador
ned the top of a lacey, patterned light blue tablecloth, and underneath lay a floral pattern area rug with colors to match. Argus circled the table carefully, running his hand over the top of each dining chair as he passed. Upon taking his next step, he heard the floorboards below him groan under his weight, and he swore he also heard a whimper arise from somewhere close by.

  Argus paused, standing absolutely still on the spot. Then, without warning, he ducked down and peered underneath the table, hoping to catch whatever might be hiding there. But he saw nothing other than the dust particles floating through the shafts of light streaming in through the bare windows. Standing up once more, he shifted his weight back onto the loose floorboard beneath the rug and heard once more the creaking of straining wood, only this time without any accompanying sound. He shifted forward yet again, then back onto the noisy board. Although he still heard nothing out of the ordinary, Argus had a suspicion.

  “Dareia!” Argus called out in a harsh whisper. He thought he heard the priestess’ footsteps coming closer to him. “Dareia!” he whispered out again.

  Dareia appeared in the doorway. “Argus, why are you whispering?” she inquired at a normal volume of conversation. “I believe that they are already well aware of our presence.”

  Argus blushed and hung his head. “Sorry,” he said. “But I thought I heard something from beneath the floor here.”

  Dareia came over to where the man stood. “What did you hear?” she asked.

  “It sounded as if someone was whimpering,” Argus said. “It could have just been my imagination, but I am almost certain that I heard something.”

  Dareia glanced down toward the floor, tracing her scrutinizing emerald eyes across every crevice and crease. She then pushed Argus to the side and kicked back the corner of the rug upon which he had stood. There, lying beneath it, a dull wrought iron ring was set into the floor.

  “I believe you might have just discovered something of great value, Argus,” Dareia said thoughtfully, effortlessly bending her knees so that she squatted just above the floorboards beneath her. She reached out and slid her razor sharp fingernail under the metal ring, lifting it and slipping her index finger through. She then looked up at Argus.