The Marenon Chronicles Collection

Chapter Eighteen





The group left the wooded outskirts of Canor on horseback, weapons attached to their saddles, just as the sun was edging its way over the horizon. Silas had recovered for the most part, but his body still ached, leaving a bitter reminder that he would need to watch his back while traveling with Lorcan Zamire. Inga had insisted that Lorcan did not have it out for him, but Silas didn’t believe it for a second. The tension among the group was awkward and Silas had the sneaking suspicion that their quiet behavior was not the natural attitude for the four others who had been in many tight situations together. He could sense a fading camaraderie, more than likely owing to his presence among them. Silas stayed toward the back of the riders feeling it was best. By mid-morning they had crossed the Zasca River by ferry and traveled discreetly in the grassy plains. Nobody spoke apart from the occasional chatter between Alric and Coffman about the best way to hunt scowlers, whatever those where.

They stopped at noon to eat and let the horses rest. The skimpy meal was about as silent as the trip had been. It was short-lived and within fifteen minutes they began moving east again. Alric predicted that they would reach Timugo by nightfall and would go in for the artifacts around midnight.

The grassy plains eventually turned into thick forest as they rode single file through a hilly, mountainous region. Set in each hill, Silas could see various caves, which reminded him of how he arrived in Marenon in the first place. I hate caves, he thought. As the sun began to slowly descend behind the trees, Alric announced that they had reached Timugo. After another hour of traveling they halted when Alric was satisfied with their location. They had stopped and dismounted amongst a quarry of rocks that surrounded them on all sides. They sat on the damp ground facing Alric who stood in fixed concentration, staring at a set of papers he had retrieved from his saddle. Silas figured the papers were some of the plans for the night. After a few moments went by, he crouched next to them on the ground, eyes not leaving his papers.

“Now we wait,” he told them, glancing up only once.

As they waited, each of them began to look more uncomfortable. Silas watched the others as they fidgeted and squirmed. He knew he would have no comfort until the mission was finished, so he sat, unmoving. The pressure was high and Silas was not sure of the reason. He was nervous, of course, but these people had done this a thousand times and they acted as if it were their first time. Their eyes darted to each other in the soundless night, with only the occasional murmur of uneasiness.

When it was time to begin, Alric gathered them together atop a small mesa looking out toward the south entrance of Timugo, home of the Anwyn people. Alric pointed at one cave opening in particular. It was a large rock that stood above the rest with very few trees around it. In the rock was a gaping hole leading downward to a maze deep under the earth.

“That’s our way in,” he said.

“There’s no guard?” Silas asked.

“There are,” Alric answered. “They just aren’t where you’d expect them to be.” He looked back at each of their faces. “Everyone ready and know what to do?”

All of them nodded and Silas pulled out the map he had been given by Alric the night before.

“That’s the way to the staff,” Alric assured him. “Remember, get there as fast as you can, and out even faster. Can you understand the map alright?”

Silas nodded. The map was simple and straightforward. There were only two right turns then a left. From there was a long corridor directly to the mark.

“If you’re clearing the way for me, then why can’t I just follow you?” Silas asked.

“Because we’re clearing your exit from the other side,” Alric said. “We are not taking the same path.”

“Will I encounter any Anwyns?”

“Very unlikely I would say,” Alric answered. “At least, until you grab the staff. Then, you just have to be quick.”

The answer was not as comforting as Silas would have liked or as Alric had thought it would be. But, then again, there was nothing comforting about the job at all. They were about to steal from someone that had done no wrong to them. Alric and his crew was not a group that Silas needed to be involved with any longer once they finished helping him find his grandfather.

Each of them followed Alric, guiding their horses by the reigns, toward the entrance of the cave. Their weapons were strapped tight, and accessible at any moment. The only one not carrying a sword was Inga who was focused and ready to blast anyone, calling on the magic within her. Silas had yet to see her in fighting glory, but she must have been good to not even consider carrying a weapon.

They were within ten yards of the cave entrance, when arrows of fire rained down in front of their feet causing Lorcan’s horse to rear back, pulling him with its weight. He placed his hand on the creature and whispered to it, calming its nerves. Within moments, two tall figures dropped from a pair of trees near the entrance of the cave. Another one carrying some sort of spear, climbed out of a compartment in the ground that had been concealed with dirt and leaves. What surprised Silas the most was that these were not people or men at all. From the light of the arrows in the ground he could see that they were an olive green color and much taller than he by at least three heads. They wore what looked to be some sort of tribal clothing covering only the necessary parts. War tattoos were etched across their chests and on their faces. The two that dropped from the trees had more arrows flaming and aimed to fire at the first sign of aggression. The leader held his spear ready.

“Who are you and what is your business in Timugo?” the spear-carrier said.

“My name is Alric Thirsk and we are travelers hoping for a place to rest for the night.”

“Timugo is not a place for Human travelers,” the leader said with finality. “Turn the way you came, and leave.”

Inga walked up beside Alric, a look of distress across her face. “Please let us stay the night.”

The Anwyn guard’s mouth curled downward with obvious ridicule toward the woman and he looked to Alric. “You Humans let your women speak when they should remain in silence. Your kind sickens me. This is your final chance to leave. Go.”

Inga bowed her head and crouched to the ground, letting out a cry of despair. Two guards tightened their grips on their bows. Her crying became louder and Alric stepped back, knowing what would come next.

“What is she doing?” The guard said. “Stop her now!”

Then as quickly as her cry came, it left and was replaced with a loud scream. With the scream came a burst of blue light throwing all three guards back into the rock, sending flaming arrows flying in two directions. All of them were on the ground, unarmed and unconscious.

“You killed them didn’t you?” Coffman asked.

Inga shook her head angrily. “I should have, but they’ll live.”

Alric moved ahead, leaving his horse behind. “It’s time to move,” he said. “Coffman, Inga, come with me. Lorcan, tie up these guards and meet us around at the east entrance with the horses.” He looked at Silas. “Are you ready?”

The answer didn’t matter. He was either ready and going or not ready and going anyway. He gave Alric a nod of affirmation and gripped the hilt of the sword that Lorcan had thrown at him the day before. Without a word, Alric, Coffman and Inga went into the cave. Before Silas took a step, Lorcan grabbed his arm firmly. Silas froze, unsure what might happen next.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” he said.

Silas said nothing, confused by the conflicting signals coming from the Erellen.

Lorcan let go of his arm and Silas hesitantly began his trek into the cave. The word of caution from Lorcan was unexpected to say the least.

The entrance was dark and gloomy. Silas held the map in front of his face, barely able to see where to go. The directions were simple, but he was taking no chances. There was no sign of the other three that had gone on before him. He hoped that there wouldn’t be a need to clear a path. He followed the map until he came to the first right turn and further on to the next right turn. One more turn, he thought. He kept walking and walking. After a few minutes he decided to pick up the pace. A sense of apprehension began to fill him as the stone path stretched out longer that he had expected. Did the map indicate the next turn would be so far? His brisk walk turned into a run. The dim blue light could not be explained, but his path was still eerily illuminated. There was no sign of any Anwyns. This was a relief, but he had been on this path so long that he was beginning to think that he had missed the last turn.

Minutes passed.

What if he hadn’t seen the turn? Was he running right into an ambush? What would they do if they caught him? The map never suggested that the path was so long. He must have missed it. After long minutes of running, he stopped abruptly and fell to his knees, breathless. How could I have missed the last turn? Panic was beginning to set in. If he could not find the next turn there would be no getting the staff, thus no finding his grandfather. Alric said everything had to be done within fifteen minutes. It had been at least eight minutes already. Silas wasn’t sure what had to be done to get the staff anyway. Was it sealed? Would it be protected? There was no way of knowing. The questions he never thought to ask before now flooded his mind.

He looked behind him, wondering if he should go back to look for the left turn. Having missed it would ruin the whole operation. He weighed the options in his mind and finally decided to keep moving forward. He knew he didn’t miss it. He couldn’t have. He moved quicker and gradually began to pick up the pace until he was running again. It was almost a full minute later when he saw it. The path he ran went straight, but another cut to the left. He hadn’t missed it! According to the map this would be the path that led directly to the staff.

Going at a jogger’s pace he found that the map was true, however off-scale it was. The footpath led to a large open room. It looked to be perfectly square and the smooth stone walls were covered with many types of markings and pictures. If Silas were to guess, he would say that it was a pictorial history of the Anwyn people, with colorful carvings depicting times of peace and war.

The ceiling was high, at least fifty feet. It too bore the history of the Anwyn people. In what order the history began or ended, Silas could not determine. It was a spectacular sight. Much like the path had glowed, so too did the rock walls within this room, but much more vibrantly. If Silas had not been frightened for his life he would have taken the time to admire such beauty and craftsmanship. On the other side of the room was a large wooden double door, and according to the map, this was Silas’ exit.

And in the center of the room was the prize, the item that would lead him ultimately to his grandfather. The staff was not as wondrous as Silas would have expected. It stood upright in the middle of the room above a short stone pedestal, magically floating inches off the surface. The staff was straight except for the top, which was crooked and gnarled. It was not tall and would probably only reach to Silas’ neck while standing, and the surface had a finished smoothness to it. It was certainly a nice staff, but surely this wasn’t all they had come for. Silas wondered what the others were going after. What could be so special about this staff? In Marenon, anything could be special about it, Silas thought. For all he knew it carried brilliant magical powers or perhaps it was a key to some hidden treasure. Either way, it did not matter to Silas. Once he grabbed it, he would not have much time to get to the exit as planned. He walked slowly to the floating object as his heart raced. He did not feel prepared to fight a horde of Anwyns. He hoped the others had done their job in clearing a path for his exit.

A second later he was within feet of the staff and reached out to touch the object when he heard loud footsteps approaching from the corridor behind him. He had been followed! He drew his sword and spun around quickly.

“Wait!” the voice yelled as an Erellen came around the corner. It was Lorcan. A sudden urgency gripped Silas. He did not want to face Lorcan again. Silas was confident in his ability to defeat Lorcan with a sword, but he would be crushed by the Erellen’s magic.

“What are you doing, Lorcan? You’re supposed to get the horses ready for escape!”

“Whatever you do,” Lorcan said, bent over trying to breathe, “don’t touch the staff!”

Silas shook his head. “You’ve been trying to keep me from coming on this job since the moment you met me.”

“No, Silas listen!”

“You listen!” Silas yelled, spit flying. “I’m not going to let you get us all killed just because you have some misplaced contempt for me.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Silas. If you touch that staff, you’ll die!”

Silas couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t understand why Lorcan was saying these things, but if the past two days were any indication, it was probably an attempt to make Silas out to look like the bad guy.

“You want me to fail so you can tell Alric you were right about me!”

“Silas, it was Alric’s plan for you to die tonight!”

Silas stared in disbelief, unable to find words to argue. It couldn’t be true. Alric had been good to him. He had given Silas his word that he would help him find his grandfather. Why would he want him to die?

“We aren’t even here for the staff,” Lorcan continued. “We’re after a medallion.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t ask me what the medallion is or what it does. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s what we’ve been hired to get.”

“Then what’s the point of sending me after the staff?”

“To be the diversion,” Lorcan said calmly. “Alric wasn’t lying when he said an alarm would be raised when you grabbed the staff. What he did lie about was what happens when you touch the staff.” Lorcan hesitated. “Every Anwyn in these parts will swarm around you and capture you. There’ll be no attention paid to Alric and the rest of them when they move in and steal the medallion. You would bear the consequences and we would be free.”

Anger seeped in deep and Silas’ blood stewed. “Why are you telling me this now and not earlier?”

“I had hoped,” Lorcan said, “that I could keep you from coming when we fought in the pit. It obviously didn’t work. Alric and I have been friends for a long time, but I feel he’s gone too far this time. The others have felt the same way. Inga, Coffman and I planned this without Alric knowing. We think we can get the medallion without killing you and that’s what we aim to do.”

“Why wouldn’t Alric hear your plan then?” Silas asked.

“Because it is too dangerous. He said the life of a random stranger is worth the assurance of his friend’s safety. He wouldn’t budge.”

Silas looked back at the staff. Judging from the way Lorcan had treated him from the moment they met, there was no way he could be trusted. He wanted Silas dead and he wanted the glory from his leader. It had to be a ploy to destroy him. He looked back at Lorcan, then back to the staff and reached out and grabbed it with both hands.

For a second Silas could hear a brief scream of protest from Lorcan, but was soon drowned by the sound of a thousand trumpets. A light flashed from the stone below the staff, blinding him where he stood. Besides the deafening alarm, the only thing he could sense was that he had immediately been knocked to the ground because of the sharp pain shooting through his cut shoulder and the sudden throbbing in his head from the landing. The staff had been lost from his grip almost as soon as he had grabbed it. How was he supposed to leave through the doors if he couldn’t even see? The alarm was still blaring, his head splitting in pain from the reverberating noises. The white light was so bright that he dared not open his eyes. The Anwyn’s security had proven effective because Silas had lost all use of his senses. An attempt to run would only have him slamming into walls and perhaps suffering a much more painful fate than what awaited him. He lay on the ground with his hands over his ears for what felt like minutes. And then, just as it had begun, it ended. The light went out and the blaring noise stopped. Silas opened his eyes to see, but could see nothing. The ringing in his ears felt as loud as the piercing alarm that had knocked him over. His eyes closed again as he concentrated to regain his senses. He felt foolish. Either this was a serious oversight by Alric, or Lorcan had been telling him the truth. In that moment he wished that he had listened.

Apart from the ringing in his ears he could hear voices and the shuffling of feet. He attempted to open his eyes once again and this time his vision was beginning to come back. What he saw was Lorcan, as blinded and in shock as himself, being bound by a group of large green figures carrying spears and bows. If Lorcan had been telling the truth, then Alric would have his hands on the medallion now and the two of them were going to be left for dead.

How can I have been so stupid?

Silas looked up to see a towering green figure over him. The Anwyn bent down and sniffed. The tattoos on his face gave him the look of a warrior, one who didn’t take too kindly to outsiders intruding on his people.

“Foolish Human,” he said.

The last thought that Silas had before being knocked unconscious was a question.

Why did Lorcan come after him? Why did he risk his own life?

Then, darkness.