The Marenon Chronicles Collection

Chapter Two





Julian Hobbes stared at the golden key in his hand as it shined in the light of the setting sun, wondering what it could open. Ward Holden had told him that it was the key to proving that most of the Dunarian Council was plotting against the Humans of Marenon. He didn’t understand why they would do this, for they were Humans too. Was it power? Greed? Did they fear that the Stühocs would eventually take over all of Marenon and they wanted to be in their good graces? Julian assumed it was probably for all of these reasons.

He sat up in the chair on the balcony, which was just off of his bedchamber. The responsibilities of ruling at Farlaweer had been proving too much for the new Human king of Marenon. He had taken a different room with a very different view than that of the royal chamber. Too many bad memories flooded that place.

Some servants objected to Julian’s choice at first, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need the lavish, oversized room. He just needed a place to be by himself with time to think. His new bedchamber was spacious as well, and the balcony provided a wonderful view of the city. Guards still stood outside his doors, and the servants were sure to make the room as comfortable and royal as possible. He was the Human sovereign of Marenon. He deserved nothing less. Of course, Julian didn’t think this way. He didn’t ask to be king. His brother asked him.

The letter left to him by Morgan declared Julian to be the king in the event of Morgan’s passing. Julian deeply regretted what had transpired between the two of them. A day didn’t pass without his thoughts drifting to that terrible night. He could have let his brother live, but he chose not to. No one knew that Morgan’s death had not been an accident. Obviously it would have to stay that way. If word got out that Julian had killed the king and days later took the throne, Julian would be ousted, possibly executed by the Royal Guard. The people, however, would have praised him for it.

The responsibility of cleaning up his brother’s mess was a daunting task. On his first day as king, Julian had ordered the disbanding and destruction of the gauntlet-bridge on the river near Canor that had been responsible for killing thousands of Humans for no good reason. He also fired most of Morgan’s former staff and threw the close personal advisor, Spencer, into the dungeon. Julian had been sure that Spencer would know some sort of information about the key Julian had taken off of Ward Holden’s body, but he had not even had the chance to ask the man himself. Duties of the kingdom were cumbersome and Julian had found no time for himself or personal time with others.

He rubbed his tired face as his thoughts drifted to Nalani. These last three months had been rough for the two of them. Not only had she never answered his proposal for marriage, he had only seen her twice since he had taken on the kingship. Daily, he was bombarded with learning how to do various tasks and trying to manage the kingdom. He had tried to hire most of the advisors that had worked for his father. Some happily obliged, relieved to have a different king on the throne, while others saw him as no different from his spoiled brother, Morgan.

They would see differently, Julian thought. Someday.

This had been the first time Julian had any quiet moment to himself in months, and only because he had demanded it. His advisors were in place. His rule was set in stone. Few doubted King Julian Hobbes. Citizens knew his agenda and his stance. He was planning to make peace with the Erellens and make war with the Stühocs who were attacking Human homesteads and villages up and down Marenon. Most of the battles they had fought thus far were against smaller bands of Stühocs, and the Stühocs had not advanced much farther than the Midland Pass.

The newly famous Silas Ainsley, the so-called Deliverer of the Humans, had overshadowed Julian’s rule. Word traveled quickly after Silas slew the Stühoc, General Maroke, and he was being hailed as a hero among the Humans. As he should. Julian had been in the thick of it all. As a member of the Dunarian Council, Julian had been essential in carrying out The Reckoning, the move toward bringing down the Stühocs. Silas’ grandfather, Garland, had told Julian that The Reckoning was Silas and that the goal wasn’t necessarily to destroy the Stühocs, so much as to find out the reason for Human existence in Marenon. In Julian’s mind though, his purpose in The Reckoning was to get rid of the vile Stühocs for good. Although Humans could not reproduce in Marenon, that did not mean they were not an established part of the land. The Stühocs were trying to become the dominating force, and Julian aimed to stop them no matter the cost. The Reckoning wasn’t for the Erellens or any other people-group in Marenon. It was for Humanity.

He missed being able to talk to Nalani about these things. Her perspective and support were vital to him. He didn’t know what she was doing at that particular moment, and he didn’t know if she wanted him to know. When he told her about the letter from his brother, she didn’t say much. She supported him, of course, but Julian had the feeling that she knew what it would mean. He had asked her again to marry him, but she reluctantly told him that she could not think about that sort of thing yet. There was so much happening with the Dunarians and she was not ready to abandon her post.

“Half of them are traitors!” Julian had argued.

“There’s no way for you to know that,” she said turning away. “You’re basing that off the word of a man who was a traitor, Julian. He’s just trying to get you to turn against the rest of them.”

Julian held the key out for her to look at it. “He told me this would lead to real information. He told me it was proof of the council’s disloyalty. I believe him because he said all of this right before he tried to kill me! He didn’t expect me to live and try to confirm his claims.”

She turned on him sharply. “Until it has led to proof, then I will not pretend it’s real.” She sighed and turned away. “You seem to wish it were true.”

The words stung Julian. Kaden had said something similar to him when Julian had approached his mentor about it. Of course Julian didn’t want it to be true, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility. Nalani had begun to walk out of his room in Jekyll Rock and he had reached out and grabbed her arm firmly.

“You’re not going,” he said.

She wrenched her arm away from his, her face flushed with anger. “I am on the Dunarian Council, Julian Hobbes. I will remain on the Dunarian Council.”

“I want you to come with me to Farlaweer.”

Nalani waited a long moment, no doubt trying to think of the right words to say. “Things are different now,” she said. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, but right now we both have responsibilities we must take care of. I’ve been planning a mission to Voelif to snatch the orange medallion. You’ve got to use your new royal status to help make the Erellens ally themselves with us. Only then can we have all six medallions. Maybe in another time Julian…” She paused, and took a deep breath. “Maybe.”

She turned away, tears forming in her eyes. She hated what she had to say, but Julian knew she was right. He loved her more than anything in the world, but their paths were drifting apart and he couldn’t force her come with him.

He hated that he was so far from her. She had probably already left for Voelif. He had offered to help her with the mission in any sort of way, but they both knew that it was an offer of desperation, another attempt to stay connected somehow. He slumped lower in his chair, watching as the sun set over Farlaweer. He loved her more than she loved him, he knew, but it didn’t matter. He would get her back when The Reckoning was finished. When the Stühocs were defeated and peace was in Marenon once again, maybe, just maybe, the two could find the time to be together.

He rubbed a hand through his long, dark hair. Nalani would eventually be in danger if what Holden had told him were true. She was at least safe from the council for the time being, although being sent on a mission to Voelif would place her in a new danger, assigned to her by the council. Julian knew that if he didn’t find out the truth about the council, he would never feel comfortable with Nalani’s dedication to them. He clutched the key in his hand until his knuckles turned white. With all the responsibilities, with all the requirements that demanded every moment of his new life, Julian decided immediately that he would not focus on anything else until the mystery of the Dunarian Council was solved.

He stood from his seat, beginning to pace, deep in thought. He considered the possibility of traveling to Jekyll Rock and confronting the council on their own turf, but he knew this would be foolish. His thoughts drifted to that moment when he had crept into the castle and saw Spencer in a meeting with Ward Holden and Maroke. Holden and Maroke were dead. The only person that could possibly know anything about the key would be the man chained in the lower dungeons only a short walk from Julian. For Julian’s three months of rule, he had never gone to question the scoundrel. Julian feared how he would act toward the man that had plotted his father’s death. As far as Julian knew, Spencer was the only man left alive that had a hand in the murder. A last bit of retribution remained if Julian would choose to avenge his father. It would take only a word from Julian, and Spencer would be taken out and executed. Or if Julian preferred, he could simply pull out his dagger and kill the man himself. Either would be kept quiet, and no one would have to know. The people of Marenon would probably praise him for it anyway. Unfortunately, Julian needed the snake alive. The time for learning his kingly duties was over. The responsibilities of his day-to-day routine would have to be put on hold. This would be the day to discover the truth.

Without another thought, he stormed out of his bedchamber, and the guards instantly saluted him as he passed by. He made his way down several long flights of stairs and through a dark corridor that was rarely used on the west wing of the castle. The corridor led to another door, protected by two more guards. They unquestioningly began to open the door for him. The passageway beyond the door led to an annex of the castle that was completely sealed off from the rest of the structure. It took several moments for the guards to pull the wheel that latched the door shut. It was impenetrable and could not be opened from the other side, so Julian would have to leave the doors opened behind him.

It was customary for one of the guards to accompany the king or any other high official that might be going into the dungeons, but Julian held up a hand, refusing the guard. He didn’t want anyone watching. He didn’t know how the interrogation would turn out, and he knew his own temper. The presence of an escort would encourage restraint on his part, which is exactly why he refused it. Such a refusal would be ignored were he any other person in the land. Even the military commander Robin would be denied access to the dungeons without an escort. He held out a hand and asked the guard for the dungeon keys and the guard complied without question.

The dark, damp passage beyond the door captured a sense of eeriness. The soundless dungeon beyond would be empty of other prisoners save for one small cell. Julian took a short step forward, hating that he even had to go into such a foul place. He doubted many kings before him had even been in the dungeons. It was a place meant for dirty work with which the king should never have to worry himself. Julian was still new to all of this, and he didn’t quite trust anyone for this sort of work anyway. Sure, he had Spencer questioned by the guards, but he never expected anything from it. He had known from the beginning that he would have to face the weasel himself.

The walk down the passageway seemed to take too long. He supposed that it was a good thing, making the dungeons so far from the main part of the castle. Only the soft echoes of his footsteps kept him company, adding to his feeling of isolation. As he walked further and further, he began to wonder if he should have had one of the guards come with him after all.

He shook his head. No. This was his job, alone.

At the end of the passage he came to another door. It too could only be opened from the outside. He turned another wheel to unlatch it, and it swung open with a loud groan. A blast of cold air hit his chest while the smell of Human waste and rot assaulted his nostrils. Instinctively, his hand covered his mouth and nose, trying in vain to block the odor. Prisoners of the Farlaweer dungeons never got the luxury of a bath. Although there was only one prisoner that currently stayed there, the stench had been left from the many prisoners that had been there before. A prisoner would only be given a meal once per day. The cell would be cleaned once per week. It was a filth-hole that meant only to serve as a temporary holding place for the worst of criminals before they were imprisoned indefinitely somewhere to the south of Farlaweer. He walked by many cell doors. Each of them was a simple barred cage like any jail cell Julian had ever seen. Spencer’s cell was separate, however. At the end of the row was a door, closed off to the rest of the dungeon. Julian held up the keys he had been given by the guard and inserted the correct one. Before turning the key, he took a deep breath, not knowing exactly what he would say to Spencer. He had to be confident, knowing he couldn’t go into that cell with apprehension. He had to go in full-force, letting Spencer know that he hadn’t yet ruled out the option of killing him on the spot.

With his jaws clenched and anger swelling, he swung open the cell door. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw. Spencer sat shriveled in a corner. If he had not been breathing, Julian would have thought the man was dead. He didn’t even have the inclination to look up to see who might be visiting him. It was as if he didn’t care or he had given up. Three months in darkness, with hardly any food and the stench of his own excrement, had taken its toll on the man. Julian stared at him from the doorway, unsure of what to say. Would Spencer even be responsive? The man had always looked frail and grimy, but this was a new level of fragility. As much as he hated to admit it, Julian almost felt bad for him. He shook his head, pushing sympathetic emotions aside.

This man would have us all dead if he had his way.

“Spencer,” Julian said, his voice bouncing off the bare walls of the dungeon.

Spencer’s head lolled slightly. He brought his hand to his eyes to shield the light behind Julian as he began to look up.

“Who is it?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Stand up.”

Spencer’s head simply dropped back down to his chest.

“I said stand up!” Julian shouted.

Spencer took a deep breath. “Julian,” he said. His deep breath turned into a chuckle and his chuckle into a laugh from the belly. It was a menacing laugh that should not have been coming from such a frail creature. Julian wanted to kick him. Whatever feeling of sympathy he may have had a moment before had all but disappeared.

“I wondered when you’d be coming to visit,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“Stand up, you filth!”

It took a moment for the frail Spencer to find the strength to bring himself off the ground, but using the wall to support his weight, he was finally able to stand, slouched and beaten.

“Your Highness?”

“I’m here to ask you something.”

“I’ve been asked all the questions, Your Highness,” Spencer said disgustedly.

“You haven’t answered this one.” Julian reached inside his cloak and pulled out the golden key. “What does this key open?”

Spencer’s eyes betrayed his knowledge of the object, but he was not going to gratify his enemy.

“It’s just a key, Your Highness,” Spencer said looking at the floor. “I’ve seen plenty of those.”

“You lie!” Julian said, stepping closer to the prisoner. “This key is the only one of its kind isn’t it?”

Spencer shook his head. “I’ve seen hundreds.”

Anger seethed through Julian’s veins. He knew the man was lying to him. “You will rot in here for the rest of your days if you don’t tell me the truth.”

Spencer managed to look up at Julian and meet his eyes for the first time. “You mean you plan a different ending for me?” he asked dryly.

“If you tell me what this key is for, I will consider making your sentencing easier. You won’t be sitting here in your own filth.”

Spencer considered the king’s words then lowered his head again. “I’ve seen hundreds of them.”

Julian raised his arm and slapped Spencer with the back of his hand. Blood instantly began to trickle from the undernourished skin on the prisoner’s cheek.

“What does the key open?” He slapped Spencer again across the other side, this time the man fell to ground, whimpering in pain, unable to even try to deflect the blows.

Julian bent down and pulled him up by the neck, forcing the captive to look him in the eyes. He held the man with one hand easily and with the other he pulled out his dagger from underneath his cloak. Spencer’s eyes went wide with fear.

“Tell me now, or you will die here.”

“You’d kill me like you did your brother?” Spencer managed. Julian tightened the grip on the man’s neck. He wouldn’t even need the knife to kill him. As he held tighter, he began to feel the throat give beneath his grip until finally, Spencer tried to wheeze out a few words. He was ready to talk.

Julian let go of Spencer’s neck and shoved him to the ground. “This is your last chance. I swear if you lie to me again, I’ll cut your head off, myself.”

Spencer sat himself upright against the wall, coughing and wheezing from the death grip Julian had administered. After a long moment of trying to compose himself, he looked back up at the furious king and began to speak.

“I don’t know how much Holden told you,” he said. “All I know is that it’s a key to a door, a door that seals information.”

“What kind of information?” Julian asked, testing the frail man.

He shook his head. “Information about who was on our side.” Spencer’s mouth formed into a smile, but was quickly replaced with a cough. “You won’t like what you find, Your Highness.”

“What exactly will I find?”

“Proof. Your Dunarian Council members are not as loyal as you think they are,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the Dunarian Council used you. Probably still are, somehow.”

“They were in league with you, Maroke and Holden?” Julian asked.

Spencer nodded. “Every last one of them that I know of. That is, except Kaden and your precious Nalani.” He let out another wheezing cough.

“Where can I find this door?”

Spencer shrugged. “The forests are filled with villages and towns south of Farlaweer. All I know is it’s in one of them just outside of the forest. Go to a small village called Homestead, northeast of Clover Mountain.” He let out another cough, thick with phlegm. “Once there, you’ll ask for a man named Wilkes. Show him the key and he’ll show you the proof.”

“What kind of proof is it?” Julian asked.

“Holden never showed me, he only told me what I just told you.”

Julian nodded then wordlessly turned to leave. He stopped when he heard the disgust in Spencer’s voice.

“You’re still going to let me rot in here?”

Julian turned slightly, not quite looking at Spencer. “Only if you’re telling the truth. If you’re lying then I’m going to kill you myself.”

He walked from the cell and slammed the door shut, leaving Spencer in his own waste.