The Marenon Chronicles Collection

Chapter Twenty-Five





The group had made camp late into the night. The sarians were too exhausted to keep going and their riders were more so. The torrential downpour that had occurred in the afternoon had slowed them considerably, Alric had said.

They settled in a ravine somewhere in the foothills of the Reemlock Mountains, not daring to make a fire for fear of being found by a lurking Stühoc or something else that might get the inclination to attack them. Lorcan had a hard time falling asleep. He was shaking more and more the closer they came to the Stühoc city. Inga tried to comfort him and she even used her magic to try and calm his nerves, but nothing worked until his tired body took over and put him to sleep.

While the others slept, Silas’ sprinting mind kept his eyes wide open. The sounds in the night were haunting and his thoughts raced. He wondered why Lorcan was so terrified of the Stühocs. He had fought gallantly with him in Timugo. What was different here?

By this time tomorrow Silas would be deep in Stühoc territory. He knew nothing of where he was going and knew even less about what he would face. For all he knew he wouldn’t even make it into Mudavé, and he feared that if he did, there would be no chance of freeing Kaden. He was being foolish, he knew. The closer he got to Mudavé the more he realized he was placing himself in an impossible situation. Alric and the others would not take him much further. Then he was on his own. But he was the Meshulan, right? If there really was some sort of prophecy about him being the deliverer then perhaps there was nothing that could touch him. Perhaps he couldn’t die again. He had been lucky in surviving so far, what with the gauntlet and the run-in with the Anwyns. He should feel untouchable.

But he then recalled what his grandfather had said about his fate being unsure. Neither Silas, nor anyone else, knew who or what he would deliver. Perhaps his feeling of invincibility was unwarranted. Perhaps he was the Meshulan but he could still die.

Maybe he could accidentally break the prophecy. No one even knew if the prophecy was true. It could have been a hoax to give Marenon a false hope in a time of need. No. Silas couldn’t live like he was untouchable. He wasn’t indestructible and he knew it. Danger lurked around every corner. Lives were at stake. This was no time to act reckless. Then and there on the ground in the screeching night, Silas decided that he was going to live as though there was no such thing as a Meshulan. He would not live thinking he was invincible. He knew that doing so would either get him killed or place him and others in a lot more danger than they needed to be.

Eventually, Silas somehow slept. His dreams were vivid. He saw revelations of war and fighting. He saw himself at the top of a mountain, a shining sword in hand, Stühocs surrounding him. His grandfather lay on the ground injured from battle. Alric, Inga and others were fighting countless Stühocs, keeping them away from Silas. Then there was Maroke, grinning with ferocity. Fear drove deep within Silas as Maroke raised his sword, about to strike Silas with everything he had. Am I about to die?

Silas jerked awake. Sweat was pouring down his face and back. He looked in every direction, and all was as it had been when he had drifted off. He looked to his left where he could hear Coffman and Alric snoring away. Lorcan whimpered to himself, but someone was missing. Inga! Silas stood quickly and searched around the camp, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. She was not there. Since the camp was on the edge of the woods, the only place he could imagine she went was into the forest. Could she have been taken? Silas shook his head. No, not without us hearing it. Inga would have made enough noise to wake the others. She had to have gone on her own.

Silas looked into the woods, daring himself to move forward. It could be a dangerous move. He knew nothing of this part of the world, but his intuition told him that traveling into the dark forest was not the wisest of choices. He looked back at the others, sleeping soundly and whimpering softly, then back into the woods. He took a deep breath and moved forward, walking as lightly as possible.

He walked past trees and stones, remembering to look back every few seconds to make sure he had not lost sight of the camp. He knew that if he did lose track, he would be lost, and this was not a place to get lost. He kept moving forward, using the light of the moon to guide his path. After a few long, dark minutes he could hear murmuring to his right. When he looked in that direction, he saw her. Inga was kneeling next to a tree posed as if she were praying. When he came closer he could hear her, but could not discern the ramblings she made. He could tell by the stiffening of her body that she knew he was near. She could sense his presence. He was soon within two feet of her and her muttering ceased. There was a rock to the side of her and Silas took a seat. Nothing was said during these moments. Silas had already found himself invading her space and nothing could change that, but he was going to let her be the first to speak.

After a few awkward moments, her eyes lifted and fell upon his face. Then, a slight grin formed at the corner of her mouth causing relief to flood over Silas. He was not sure how she would take his intrusion, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said calmly.

“Not at all,” Silas answered. “I woke and noticed you were gone. This isn’t exactly the best place to be wandering off by yourself, you know.”

“I do know,” she said. “I felt him again.”

Silas searched his mind for what she could be talking about until he remembered their conversation in Timugo.

“Silandrin,” he said.

Inga’s silence confirmed the answer.

“Trails of my former teacher. The presence of his travels is strong here. It’s as if he were here only days ago, but that couldn’t be.”

“Why not?” Silas asked.

“Because he said he was going to come back for me. He told me he was going to finish my training as a Sorceress. The only reason he would not keep his word is his death. I have accepted that he was dead, but the feelings that have erupted tonight have confused me again.”

Silas sat in thought for a moment, not sure what to tell her. “What were you saying to yourself earlier?”

Inga gave him a puzzled look.

“When I came over here, you were muttering something with your eyes closed,” he explained.

“I was trying to conjure the image of the presence I felt. I was trying to see if he actually had passed through here before.”

“Anything?”

Inga shook her head. Silas reached out and put a hand on Inga’s shoulder to comfort her. As he touched her, she stiffened slightly, a reaction of rejection that Silas was not expecting. He pulled his hand back quickly, thankful that it was dark enough for the red in his face to remain hidden.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. It’s just that your touch is a powerful one.”

Silas looked at her curiously.

“It’s the touch of the Meshulan. It’s one that carries great significance.”

“I’m just me,” he said.

Inga sighed. “Alric and the others do not appreciate who you are the way I do, Silas Ainsley. They’ve heard of the Meshulan, but they know nothing of what you are to become. In their eyes it makes little difference who you are. I think this is the case with many people these days. Magic has begun to leave Marenon and along with the magic, the prophecies and histories of ancient days have diminished.”

“I don’t blame the others,” Silas said. “I’m not sure if I even believe in the Meshulan.”

Inga smiled. “It doesn’t matter if you believe it, Silas. You are what you are, no matter what you want to believe and no matter what I or anyone else believes.”

“But I don’t want to be the Meshulan,” he said.

“Again, a comment that doesn’t change anything.”

Silas’ heart lurched when Inga reached out and grabbed his hand. “Never be afraid to touch me, Silas. I will gladly take the hand of the Meshulan. The Deliverer.”

It took everything in Silas to keep his thoughts focused on what she was saying. All he could think about was the fact that her soft hands were holding his, and the feeling in his stomach was urging him to lean forward and kiss her beautiful face. He pulled his hands away and stood, looking at no spot in particular.

“I am a Sorceress in training,” Inga said. “Some of my training involved learning about the prophecies of old. I know that you are to be a deliverer to a people unknown. I personally think that you will bring deliverance to the Humans.”

“But what does that mean?” Silas said. “What do the Humans need to be delivered from?”

“Most would claim deliverance from the Stühocs. They would say that the Stühoc’s presence in Marenon is oppressive to all. But then the Stühocs claim that you will make them equal to all other creatures in Marenon, to bring a balance. I believe you are here to make Humans a true part of this world.”

Silas still wasn’t able to buy it. He knew so little and all this was being shoved in his face. All he wanted was to rescue Kaden.

“Your grandfather will be angry when he finds out that you’ve gone to Mudavé. It’s extremely dangerous.”

“But I’m the Meshulan, right?” Silas asked in sarcasm.

“As I’m sure you know, the prophecy isn’t clear on what you will become. With reservation, I’ll help escort you to the place that could become your new haven.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the Stühoc’s lure can be enticing. If your friend is alive then they are doing everything they can to turn him. Once the Stühocs have a hold on you, their disgusting looks and evil ways do not seem so wicked anymore. After a while, you come to like their ways. They do not seem so repulsive. If you are captured, you must know that they will do everything in their power to convert you. I fear that after a long time, not even the Meshulan could resist their pull.”

“How do they do it?”

“It’s an evil, dark magic. It is something that has not been lost from the Stühocs over the centuries.”

“How is it you know so much?”

“Like I said, as a Sorceress, it’s my training to know about all forms of magic, even the dark ones.”

Silas sat back down to the rock, now engaged deeply. “So, how long can Kaden resist the Stühocs?”

“I don’t know Kaden,” she said, “but if he was close to your grandfather and instrumental in the Dunarian cause for all these years, then I imagine he is strong-willed.” She hesitated with her next words, almost as if to make sure she needed to say them.

“I would say you are doing the right thing by trying to help him,” she said. “But I don’t think you should do it alone.”

Silas wanted to reach his hand out and hold hers again. The feeling was so comforting, but he thought better of it.

“You will come with me into Mudavé?”

“I do not think that Silandrin would have it a different way. I think he would call me a fool if I didn’t go.”

“What about the others?”

“Well, I’m sure they will not be eager to go, but if they see that I’m going then perhaps they will reconsider. Except maybe Lorcan.”

“Why is he so scared of the Stühocs?” Silas asked. “I’ve seen him fight. He was fearless before.”

Inga smiled, but not out of joy. It was a sad smile, as though she were trying to remember the details of a very sad tale.

“Lorcan’s story is a terrible one,” she said. “The Stühocs killed his family in the war seventeen years ago. He was just a young Erellen boy. They captured him and tortured him. He never told me details of his capture, only that I know his deepest fear is to be captured again. They must have done terrible things to him. It was probably much harder for a child to go through such an experience.”

Silas stared at the ground, trying to imagine what it must have been like. He couldn’t. This new insight to Lorcan’s life gave Silas a different view of the Erellen. There must have been so much pain.

He was happy to have Inga’s support, however. He had been so worried about trying to get into Mudavé alone and now to have just one companion made him feel as if nothing could stop them. He sat for a moment, looking into Inga’s eyes. He felt at peace with her by his side. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew that he liked it. He knew that he wanted it to stay. He shifted his feet, not sure of what to say or do next. He would have been happy just to sit in silence with Inga the whole night, but a question came to his mind.

“What about Silandrin?”

Inga shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel that he is alive, but I fear that he is gone forever. There is no way for me to know. Perhaps when we get Kaden out of Mudavé I’ll begin my travels in search for him again.”

“I hope we can find him,” Silas said.

“We?”

Silas didn’t even realize he had said we but he nodded anyway.

“Yeah. I’ll help you look for him when this is all over.”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow,” she said. “Add that to the list of things a person never expects to hear from the Meshulan of Marenon.”

“You’d never think so until you met him.”

She smiled and he returned it with his own.

It was a good night in Marenon, perhaps the last good night Silas would have for a long time.