The Marenon Chronicles Collection

The Marenon Chronicles Collection - By Jason D. Morrow


Chapter One





A bullet shattered the back window of the flatbed truck nearly sending Silas Ainsley to his death two days early. It also allowed his grandfather, Garland, the opening to aim his double-barrel shotgun at the driver on their tail.

With a pull of the trigger he hit the front end of the pursuing vehicle, shattering the left headlight into a thousand tiny pieces. Silas glanced at the rearview mirror and saw the passenger bring his arm out to spit another flurry of bullets toward them. He swerved just as Garland let off another round from the shotgun, shooting wide.

“Silas!” the old man spat.

“What? They’re shooting faster than you can load!” Silas said as he sped along the clouded dirt road. The blood-red sun was setting all too quickly. Another bullet split the rearview mirror and they both ducked low.

“We’ve only got two shells left and they aren’t letting up on the trigger,” Garland yelled.

Silas frantically scanned the edges of the highway, searching for an alternate route where they could lose their trackers. If the sun went down before he could find a spot, they wouldn't have a chance. Silas' attention snapped to the right when his grandfather pointed.

“Over there, you see that?” The road kept straight, but there was a small trail veering off to the right.

“Is it a path?” Silas asked.

“Yes, take it!” Garland said as he loaded his last two shells.

The dirt path seemed to go straight up the mountainside and Silas pressed the pedal to the floor. Trees obscured the direction the path took so he had no clue where it would lead them. For all Silas knew, they were headed off a cliff.

At seventeen, Silas had plenty of experience driving his grandfather's truck, but recent events placed him behind the wheel having to maneuver like a professional. The truck behind them carried two men as well, but it was much heavier. The pursuers could stay behind Silas and Garland all day on the flat terrain, but going up the steep mountain would slow them considerably.

“Just don’t let up on the gas,” Garland said, daring to peer over the back of his seat at their pursuers.

Silas glanced at the fuel gauge and winced.

“We can't make it far. Gas is leaking.”

Garland bit his lip. “Well, we'll just have to keep going until this thing shuts off. The more we drive, the more distance we put between us and them.” Garland's mouth curled into a devious grin as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a blue-jeweled medallion. “The more distance we put between us, the smaller the chance they have of ever seeing this thing.” He stroked the precious metal as the blue sapphire in its center sparkled in the fading sunlight.

“When are you planning on telling me what that thing is anyway?”

“It’s something that doesn't need to be in the hands of someone like Marcus or Theron.”

Silas shook his head. The old man had never told him what was so important about the medallion. In fact, Silas knew nothing about the medallion until the two pale-skinned men named Marcus and Theron appeared at their door in dark trench coats, demanding that Silas and Garland hand it over to them. They had threatened to use force if Garland and Silas didn’t cooperate. Silas, of course, had no idea what they were talking about. He left them standing on the porch of their home, and when Silas went to get Garland, he found his grandfather with two swords and a shotgun. From there it was a mad dash to the truck and a hot pursuit by Marcus and Theron. At some point they lost their pursuers, but continued heading west to a place that Garland said he had prepared for such a day. For three days they traveled with little rest and few answers to Silas’ questions.

It had been only a couple of hours since Marcus and Theron had somehow found them again and Silas had not let up on the gas since. Garland asserted that they were near his hiding place.

The truck began to quiver to a dull purr as it trudged up the side of the mountain. The path crawled around the mountain instead of over it. With the tank spilling the last bit of precious fuel, he knew it would only be moments before he would have to pull the brake and leave the truck behind.

Marcus and Theron slowly faded out of sight with their heavy vehicle, but Silas stayed wary. The cliff’s edge was too close to the slogging wheels.

The gas in the tank lasted longer than he anticipated, but after several miles of driving uphill in the wide circle it finally, and calmly, coughed to an expected end. Silas pulled the brake and the two of them bolted out.

Garland held out a hand to shush Silas before he could say a word. He tilted his head as he listened for the other truck, but no sound could be heard. When he was satisfied, he slung the shotgun strap over his shoulder, secured the two swords under his armpit and pushed past Silas. He then opened the driver's side door and unlatched the brake.

“What are you doing?” Silas asked, bewildered.

The truck began to roll down the mountain and both of them watched as it slid off the cliff, barely making a noise until its metal crumbled against the rock on the path further down. Garland scanned the terrain in front of them and wiped the sweat from the end of his nose. “We’re near the top. Let's head for the middle ground into the woods. They'll be hard pressed to find us in there.”

“We're going to get lost, Gramps.”

“Don't call me Gramps, you know I hate it.”

Silas was about to come back with something, but froze as they heard the faint growling of a diesel engine tearing up the mountainside. Like a waking giant, the sound gradually became louder.

Garland tapped Silas for his attention and handed him a sword.

“You realize they’re carrying automatic weapons,” Silas said.

“And we only have two shells left,” Garland came back. “It might be all we can use against them. Come on.”

Silas fastened the strap of the sheath around his chest so the sword hung comfortably on his back and Garland did the same. Silas followed him into the woods having no idea where they were going. He was often surprised by his grandfather's active behavior. His drive to maintain possession of this mysterious medallion was uncanny, and that feeling was multiplied considering Silas had never even seen the item before.

The air was thinner and harder to breathe as they ran though the rough, wooded terrain. It was almost dark now, but Silas figured that could be used to their advantage.

Hopefully, Silas thought. Within a few minutes, they reached a rocky summit, a mesa from which they could see for miles, including the road below them. The truck rumbled into sight and drove steadily around the mountain closer to their position.

They lay on their bellies and crawled behind a series of bushes near the edge of the stone overlook. Their breaths were shallow for several long seconds, and then Garland finally broke the silence.

“Do you see that cave over there?” He pointed to Silas' left.

He traced his grandfather’s gaze and almost said 'no' but finally caught a glimpse of the gaping hole in the side of the rock.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“That’s the hideout.”

“Then why aren’t we there?”

“We don’t have time,” Garland said. “Theron and Marcus are close. We needed to be in that cave twenty minutes ago. Running through the woods will make too much noise and they’ll surely find us before we can reach it.”

“Why wouldn't they keep looking for the truck?” Silas asked.

“If they didn't see that truck falling out of the sky, then they are less observant than I give them credit for.”

“So, what's the plan?” Silas wiped away an anxious sweat, as the rumbling of Marcus and Theron’s truck got closer. His grandfather's eyes were fixed on the cave’s entrance, unwavering.

“We take the fight to them,” Garland said. He turned to Silas and gave him a wry smile. “The hunters become the prey.”

Other mountains, with their shades of violet and orange in the setting sun, surrounded the peak where they sat. Silas knew they were somewhere in Colorado, but that was all. Although they were on the run for their lives, Garland didn’t miss the chance to say it was a good opportunity in Silas’ training. Even for an old man, Garland was unrelenting in his endeavors to instruct Silas. Confronting Marcus or Theron, the ‘prey’, and destroying one of them was his final test after years of guidance. He had trained long and hard with Garland and had become an expert swordsman and fighter. He could track beasts with the best of them and his marksmanship was unmatched, but Silas had never killed a man.

Their quarry was eccentric to say the least. When Theron and Marcus came to their doorstep, Silas could tell they were trouble from the beginning, but he had no idea who they really were until Garland finally told him.

“They are Sleepers, men completely possessed by the Stühocs,” he had said.

As far as Silas could tell after listening to Garland’s explanation, “Stühocs” were a fabled group of creatures from another world, bent on finding one certain medallion.

Of course, Silas had never seen one of these individuals and had questioned the old man’s sanity on more than one occasion. Garland told him that the possessed were uncommon and not often seen, but their coming to him meant that it was time to finish Silas’ training.

The idea of the possessed was intriguing to Silas. All the Stühocs could do was implant ideas and wishes into the mind, making the possessed believe they wanted something so badly even if they cared nothing for it. When Silas asked where these Stühocs resided he only got a mumbled answer and a wave of the hand. This only added reason to doubt the creature’s existence, but with to men trying to kill them, there wasn’t a lot of time for a better explanation.

The question then came, why did they want this medallion?

“Why haven't you told me what is so special about it?”

Garland grimaced. “Not right now, Silas.”

“Why not now? You dragged me all the way out here because some possessed freaks are trying to get it. We've both nearly been killed multiple times! Please tell me there is something in that cave that will help us.”

Garland did not move. His eyes were fixed straight ahead as if choosing his words carefully in his mind. “It's … it's very powerful, Silas.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “Does it keep the monsters away, Gramps?”

“Unfortunately it doesn’t,” Garland said.

Silas had expected a snide remark, but sensed a gravity in his grandfather's tone. The conversation ended abruptly when they saw the truck come around the nearest bend. The shell-ridden machine finally rolled to a stop and for a moment there was complete silence. Not even the bugs made noise. Then, both doors opened immediately and the two men stepped out of the truck. They wore the same black trench coats as they had when they arrived at Silas’ home a few days before. Both of them held a machine gun in the right hand. Theron, the taller of the two, had been driving. He threw the butt of his half-finished cigarette to the ground and said something to the red headed Marcus. Marcus nodded.

“What are they doing?” Silas whispered.

“They know we can't be too far and they know we weren’t in the truck. The tracks we left stopped there.”

Silas watched intently as Marcus and Theron walked slowly into the wooded area. Marcus lifted his head and sniffed as if he would be able to catch their scent.

Silas eagerly anticipated the darkness as he looked to the sun in the distance, its last rays melting behind the hills.

Marcus and Theron had their guns ready to fire at anything that moved as they walked through the thick brush and small trees. Eventually the two of them crossed directly under Silas and Garland and were close enough for Silas to smell the stench of cigarette smoke. He looked at his grandfather and caught a quick wink. How Garland planned to get to the cave was a mystery.

Silas didn’t know whether or not to believe his grandfather when he said the Stühocs had possessed these men. He wasn’t even sure he believed there were such creatures as Stühocs. But possessed or not, they were there to hunt and kill.

The night fell upon them and Silas silently swore when he noticed Marcus and Theron had found the cave.

“Do they know what’s in there?” Silas asked.

Garland said nothing for nearly a minute then answered. “I believe they may have known about it all along. I was just hoping that we could get there first.”

“What’s in it that we need so badly?”

Garland looked at his grandson, the moonlight giving him just enough illumination to see his face clearly. “I can’t tell you right now,” he said. “I swear to you when this is over, I will tell you everything.”

He didn’t want to, but Silas accepted his grandfather’s avoidance. There would be no point in arguing with him now.

After it was completely dark, Garland made them wait two more hours. Silas' body felt stiff and sore from lying on the rock surface for so long and his eyes felt as though weights dangled from each lid. His breathing became deeper just before Garland spoke, ripping him from a brief moment of comfort.

“They haven’t moved,” he said. “They’re waiting for us.”

“Then why don’t we leave?” Silas whispered. “Let’s steal their truck and go down the mountain.”

Garland shook his head. “No. We must fight them. They know that I need to get into the cave.” He pulled the shotgun to his side and set it next to Silas. “You take this. I’ll confront them first. I know how the possessed think. When they see that I have a sword they will want to fight me with their own. A gun is weak in their eyes.”

“How do you know they carry blades?”

“They always carry blades,” Garland said. “Once their rifles are down, I want you to try and fire at them.” He pointed hard at Silas. “Don’t shoot me by accident!”

“It’s a shotgun, Gramps, you better stay low.”

The situation felt too dangerous. Not only were they about to go in for the kill, they were setting themselves up for being killed as well. It was an impossible situation, but Silas had to follow his grandfather.

Climbing down the steep rock in the middle of the night was no easy task. Garland reached the ground first and did his best to steady Silas on his descent. He decided they would flank the cave from the left to avoid any noise made by walking through the dead leaves of the wooded ground. At the slow pace it took several minutes to find the dirt pathway that led to the side of the cave. The two of them hunkered low, being mindful of their steps as not to alert Marcus or Theron. Surprise was key. After several minutes of moving slowly they finally reached their destination just yards from the cave opening and both of them knelt behind a bush. Silas wiped his wet, shaggy blonde hair to the side and gripped the shotgun. The sword weighed heavy on his back.

He watched as his grandfather surveyed the best way to enter, taking notice of the old man’s movements. He was looking his age. He was active and could hold his own against anyone, but the years that wore on his 70-year-old frame were beginning to bring him down. This was something Silas had begun to notice several years before. Garland was the only parent he had ever known. The change he had undergone over the past seventeen years was subtle but apparent. Silas hated the thought of losing his grandfather, but he knew old age was just a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. He didn't know what he would do without Garland.

These thoughts pulsed through his mind, as they were about to meet death face to face. What was about to take place could go terribly wrong. Not only may he lose a grandfather, but he too could die. He had only one more protest in him.

“Are you sure this is what we should do?”

Garland was still studying their approach. “Yes,” he said. He looked at Silas and slowly pulled the sword from its sheath. “Stay ten paces behind me. When I drop to the ground, fire your first shot where the threat is highest. Save your last shot for the other. From this distance, a shotgun will only wound them. After the second shot, come in with your sword and we will take them.

Silas nodded. He was as ready as he could be, considering. He gripped the gun tighter as his grandfather gave him another firm squeeze on the shoulder and stood from his crouch. He counted the steps until he reached ten paces. He immediately stopped when a deafening sound roared through the air. He jumped to the ground and expected his grandfather to do the same, but he didn't. Garland just stood there. The bang sounded again and Silas knew it was from a gun. Still, his grandfather stood motionless. Silas wanted to call out, but did not want to give away his position. Where had the shot come from? Garland then turned, revealing a stain of blood spreading across his shirt, and fell to his knees.

“No!” Silas cried, just above a whisper, seeing two gaping wounds crying out of Garland’s stomach. Silas could not stay where he was. With his gun in hand and the sword on his back he ran to his grandfather's side.

“Sil…, run Silas...”

“No, no, no, you can’t die like this!” Where had the shot come from?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Theron and Marcus charging to where he held his dying grandfather. Silas lifted the gun and pulled back both hammers, but was too late. Marcus slapped the gun away and it fell to the ground harmlessly. He reached for his sword from behind, but was sharply kicked in the face before it could leave its sheath. Silas had been blinded with the kick. All he could see was black and could hear nothing but a loud ringing. With one last breath, he heaved and slipped out of consciousness.

When he woke, he wasn't sure if he had yet opened his eyes, but soon realized he was blindfolded. Ropes were tied tight against his wrists in front of him. His head felt as though a marching band had paraded on his skull and the trumpets were still blowing. He moved his arms to see if there was any chance of freeing himself. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t tied to anything, although the knotted ropes around his wrists and legs made his escape feel impossible. After a few moments he mustered the strength to slide on his rear to a dirt wall. He rubbed his face against it. The rough edge scraped open his flesh, the dry dirt on his face becoming mud. Finally his eyes were free of the blindfold, but his ability to see was not much better than before.

He was in a small room. It was dark except for a small stream of light coming in through a hole in the door on the other side. Its source was weak and seemed to flicker as if it were a torch. Once his eyes were able to adjust, he looked down to find a lifeless body lying on the ground just feet away.

“Grandpa?” Silas whispered.

Silence.

“Grandpa!” He said more sharply.

Finally the body breathed to life, but the breath was shallow and ragged. “Silas,” he said. His voice sounded almost as a memory. If Silas hadn't been listening for it, he would have never heard him. But he could hear and the sound was that of a dying man fighting a battle for every last breath. His wounds showed that he had been shot twice. How is he still alive? The image of his grandfather lying helpless on the bloodstained ground would be burned into his mind forever. He had never seen him in such a helpless state. He wished more than anything that they had not come to this mountain in the first place.

Silas sluggishly moved his body to his grandfather. Garland had been left there to die and Silas wished he could comfort him. With his hands and legs tied, he knelt next to him.

“I guess they got the medallion,” Silas said.

A slight grin came across Garland's face. “No.”

Silas cocked his head waiting for an explanation.

The sound Garland made was as though he was reaching for each word. “When they found that it wasn't on either of us,” he took a long pause to breathe, “they questioned me for … for about twenty minutes. I wouldn't tell them anything, so they brought me in here.”

“How come they didn’t find it? I saw you with it in the truck.”

“Exactly,” Garland said with a smile. “There’s a hidden compartment behind the seat. If you didn’t know about it, you’d never find it. I placed the medallion there when you weren’t looking.”

For some reason a wave of relief fell over Silas, not because he was happy the medallion was temporarily safe, but that his grandfather wasn't about to die in vain. If either Marcus or Theron had their grimy hands on the medallion, Garland's death would be for nothing.

With the relief came a fountain of remorse flooding his body, resulting in a bleeding of tears. His grandfather, the only man who had ever cared anything about him, was about to die. There was no more time and Garland's death was inevitable. With him gone there was no one, no family or friends in this life. Silas was old enough to take care of himself, but that wasn't the problem. He was about to be truly alone.

Garland held up a hand when he noticed the tears rolling down Silas' face. “Silas. There is nothing you can do. I will be fine.”

“You're going to die.”

“It's not the end of the world, Silas.”

“I don't want to be alone. I need you here.”

“You won't be alone.”

Silas didn't know how Garland could say this. It wasn't true, but he wasn't going to make this harder than it was.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

Garland smiled, but it turned into a agonizing grimace. “Yes.”

“I wish there was something I could do.”

“You need to listen to me,” Garland said. He took a deep breath, almost counting down the seconds. “You know where the medallion is. Don't tell them.”

Silas nodded, hanging on every word.

“These next couple of days are going to be difficult. They are not going to kill you as long as they think you know where the medallion is. If anything, tell them I hid it in the woods. It may buy you some time.” Garland swallowed hard. “They’ll get impatient. They’ll threaten to kill you and will eventually do so if you keep refusing. But by then you will hopefully have help. A protector.”

Silas began to interrupt, but Garland held up a finger. “Your protector will be here no later than two days. You must hold out until then.”

“How? Who?” Silas said.

“Just follow him, Silas. Do everything as he tells you. Take him to the medallion and he will take you to safety.”

“How do you know this?”

“It was planned from the beginning.”

“What beginning?”

Garland let out a deep cough. Silas could tell the pain within him was becoming too much to endure. He knew he shouldn't be pestering his dying grandfather with questions, but there was so much left to learn.

There was a long pause as Garland gathered the strength to speak.

“Silas.”

He bent forward to hear his nearly soundless words.

“I never thought it would begin like this, dear boy,” he said.

A hot tear rolled down Silas’ cheek as he clutched his grandfather’s hand as much as his bound wrists would allow. Garlands fingers were releasing their ever-weakening grip. Silas tried to tell him not to talk, but the old man ignored him.

“There is something I need you to do.”

“Anything,” Silas said.

“Remain brave. The days ahead of you are the beginning of something great and terrible. Your future is uncertain, but one thing is for sure, you are powerful and the Stühocs know it.”

A look of confusion crossed Silas’ face. What does he mean, powerful?

Garland’s eyes widened. “The Stühocs have been waiting for this moment, Silas. Follow the one who can lead you home.”

His eyes slowly closed and in an instant, his grandfather was lifeless by Silas’ side and his grip went limp.

“Grandpa, don't go.” The tears were uncontrollable now. “Please, don't go.”

Silas sat alone in the dark room. He was alone in the world. He had no one to help him and no one to care if he made it out alive. But according to his grandfather, he only needed to survive for two more days.