The Marenon Chronicles Collection

Chapter Twenty-Eight





The group’s escort had moved back to the surrounding walls, keeping a close watch on them as they stood huddled and waiting in the dimness. They bunched together quietly to discuss what needed to be done next, but there were no answers.

“What do you mean we just have to face him? We’re not going to face him!” Alric said in a harsh whisper.

“It’s all we can do,” Garland said. “If we don’t then we will be caught and killed, or worse, turned.”

“He’s right,” Silas said. “Facing Maroke is our only way to get Kaden out of here.”

“What about all this about being early?” Inga said. “It sounds like they’ve been expecting a group of Nestorians.”

“It’s troubling me as well,” Garland said. “I never thought Nestorians scheduled anything. They’re usually just buyers that show up when they need more slaves.”

“Let’s just sit tight,” Julian said. “As long as we keep our masks on, we’ll be fine.”

After a few moments they heard noises in the distance. There were footsteps and animated speaking. Then they saw him. Maroke. He stepped from the archway at the end of the room surrounded by a handful of armed guards. His black armor flickered brightly with the reflection of the firelight. He stood taller than any man or Stühoc; his thick hair was pulled back and trailed down over both broad shoulders on the back of which was strapped a thick sword that could cut through stone. Beside him stood a Human.

Julian’s eyes widened when he saw him. Garland discretely placed a calming hand on Julian’s back reminding him to keep his composure. The man that walked beside Maroke was none other than Ward Holden.

I knew it, Julian thought. That smug traitor will pay! Maroke stood feet from the small band, towering above them, his square jaw tense. The scars running down his cheeks were tributes to wars of the past, wars in which he had fought against the man he was about to make dealings with.

“Why are you here?” Maroke belted out.

“To do business,” Garland answered.

“We should not be doing business for another week at least,” Maroke growled. “You come here unannounced and a week early.”

Garland remained hushed for a moment, no doubt weighing his next words carefully.

Julian stared at Holden, wishing more and more that he could confront the turncoat. For the good of the group he had to look at the ground. His breathing became heavier as anger coursed through him.

“We do apologize for the intrusion, but we need to meet now,” Garland said.

Maroke stood silent. Holden spoke. “Lord Maroke, however inconvenient their presence seems to be at this moment, it would not be wise to dismiss them. Our proposition is of significant importance.”

Maroke did not seem to be happy with a Human telling him what was wise and what was not, but he considered his ally’s comment anyway.

“Very well then,” he said with a snarl. He looked at each member of the group scowling, then gave a quick nod to the other guards that instructed them to leave and then addressed Garland. “Follow me.”

Not a word was said as the group of faux Nestorians followed Maroke and his Human ally, Holden, through the corridors of the fortress. There was little to no art throughout the stronghold. It felt as empty and heartless as an abandoned cave in the wilderness, and nearly as dark. They followed a maze of twisted hallways for several minutes until they finally reached the backside of the fortress. The group shielded their eyes as they stepped out onto a smooth stone rock. It was somewhat of a relief to be out of the dark hallways, even if the daytime was just as dull and gloomy with its hazy ash-filled air. He walked them out to a ledge overlooking an immense field completely packed with stone cages. The field seemed to go on for miles until at the very end was a wall that stood as a perimeter surrounding the area. In various spots they could see Stühoc guards garnishing whips and flogging the sides of the cages. Slaves!

“We told you that we had something special for you, should you decide to join our ranks against the Humans and Erellens.” Maroke motioned his hand to the field. “And here it is. The finest slaves we have to offer. They will all be yours as long as you swear your allegiance to us. You can use them in battles, for work, whatever you wish. Most of them are brainwashed to serve whatever master they are given.”

“Most?” Garland said.

“Of course, the new arrivals are still resisting,” Holden said.

Silas looked down at the village of oppressed Humans. They were no different than he, except they had been stripped of their humanity, meant to serve any who claimed ownership. Kaden was somewhere down there at that moment, probably being slowly transformed. From what Silas could see, it looked as though none of them had been fed in weeks. How could the Stühocs do such a thing? His heart thumped hard with anger, but was subdued when he felt a slight squeeze on his hand. It was Inga. He turned to face her, and through the mask he could see her blink at him with reassurance. Behind his own mask he couldn’t help but smile at her. The squeeze had been just enough to settle his nerves, but not his disgust with what stood before them all. He turned away from her quickly. The towering Stühoc and the Human were planning something big. Were they getting ready to launch an attack on the Humans and Erellens at the same time? What kind of army did they have? Furthermore, what kind of army were the Nestorians gathering?

“Before we decide,” Garland said, “may we have a look at them? I want to see exactly what we will be receiving.”

Maroke huffed. “I have nothing to hide from you, Nestorian.” He turned and yelled over the ledge. “Gilrod!”

At that moment, a smaller Stühoc poked his head from behind one of the cages he was harassing, and when he realized who had called his name, he stood out in the open at full attention.

“My lord!” Gilrod belted.

“I want you to show these Nestorians whatever they wish to see down there and bring them back to me when they are finished.”

“Yes, my lord!” With that he began running toward the stairs and to the ledge where the group waited.

“I will be in my chambers,” Maroke said to no one in particular.

Garland bowed at the waist and the others imitated him. “Thank you, Lord Maroke,” Garland said.

“Do not wait too long to give an answer,” he said. “Time is of the essence.” Maroke turned his enormous frame and walked away from them all.

Holden gave a slight nod to the rest of them and left in the same direction. Gilrod was at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily from his run. Silas felt an immense amount of relief after Maroke left their presence. Perhaps there would be no conflict after all. It seemed that they were now on track to actually getting to Kaden and taking him out of there, assuming he was among the other slaves.

“Gilrod, at your service,” the miserable little Stühoc said with an awkward salute.

“Gilrod, we wish to see your most recent arrivals,” Garland said.

“Er-, all right,” Gilrod said, wiping his wet nose with a grimy hand. “Kind of a strange request to make.”

“All the more reason to see them,” said Garland.

Gilrod sighed. “Very well.”

They followed Gilrod down the stairs and into the field where the cages stood. Row after row, caged people sat in their own filth with nothing but buckets of fetid water to dink. Many of them had been crowded and shoved into a cage already filled to capacity. This left each person little room to rest. Silas could see their defeated spirits through sunken eyes. Without food or sleep, and under constant torture from their captors, these men and women had barely any humanity left. Many of them had no clothes on their backs, but were clothed, instead, with the scars of a Stühoc’s scourging. Regardless of what afterlife they were intended beyond Marenon, this was their hell.

The group walked on, row after row until they reached the end of the stony field. Every one in the group was looking for any sign of Kaden, but there was none. Finally, Garland asked Gilrod if there were any slaves captured within the week, and the creature told him that he was looking at them.

Garland looked in every direction to see if they were alone and saw there wasn’t a Stühoc anywhere in the vicinity other than Gilrod.

In a split second, Garland whipped off his mask and pulled his sword out from under his cloak, shoving it under the Stühoc’s chin.

“What are you-”

“Shut up!” Garland said, cutting the Stühoc short. “We are looking for Kaden Osric, where is he?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the Stühoc cried.

Garland shoved the creature to the ground and thrust the blade deeper into its neck so it began to cut. “If you don’t tell me where he is, I will kill you myself.”

Gilrod seemed to be crying, but no tears came. Finally he began to point to his left toward an opening in the wall at the end of the compound. “Hroth said to keep him secluded from the others. He’s a special one!”

“Show me!”

Garland pulled Gilrod from the ground and shoved him forward, his sword pointing at his back. Reluctantly the Stühoc walked through the opening in the wall. With one last look over their shoulders each person in the group took off their mask, relieved to get the weight off their faces. Gilrod led them down what looked to be an outdoor hallway with no ceiling leading to another opening that contained only one cage. This cage enclosed a battered and bloodied, yet still alive, Kaden Osric.

Gilrod pointed. “There,” he said. The Stühoc’s eyes traveled to his left, finally resting on Silas.

“Humans,” he spat disapprovingly.

Garland reared back and slammed the hilt of his sword on the back of the Stühoc’s head. The creature thumped to the ground and Silas bent down to grab the keys from his belt. He ran to the cage where Kaden was crouched, unaware of their presence until Silas came clanging to him.

“Kaden!”

The man turned and saw Silas as disbelief and then joy filled his face. Then he noticed the others. His eyes were wide. “Silas? What are you doing here?”

“We’ve come to get you out,” he answered, finally finding the key to open Kaden’s cell.

“But why?” He looked at Garland. “Why?”

“Silas, as well as these others, are convinced that our plan to let you gain the Stühoc’s trust is faulty,” Garland said. “And after what I’ve seen today I would have to agree with them.”

Kaden said nothing as Silas handed him a sword. “Hopefully I’m not going to need this later,” he said and gripped tighter to his staff.

Kaden lowered his head. He looked as though he hadn’t been fed since he had been captured a week before. His face was heavy with a thicker, untidier beard than when Silas had seen him before, and his clothes barely clung to his frame because of all the rips and slashes. “It’s good to see all of you. Where did the four of you get Nestorian masks?”

“The four of us?” Alric asked.

The puzzled group quickly looked in every direction, noticing that they were missing one of their own. Silas scanned every face seeing Inga, Alric, Kaden and Garland.

Julian was gone.