The Marenon Chronicles Collection

Chapter Nineteen





Coffman was frustrated to see his friends stuck in the cages along with Daewyn. It would make the whole operation much more difficult. Now he had a weapon to discover, a wristband to find and a medallion to steal. Not to mention he had his friends and a prince to rescue. The entire mission was truly on his shoulders. In his years of mercenary work, he had never had so much responsibility. He wasn’t a stranger to working under dangerous conditions, but he was used to taking specific orders, not having to come up with everything on his own. Alric and Lorcan had always been the tactical ones.

As the morning sun rose higher, more and more slaves began making their way toward the Pyramid. Coffman had not yet seen the Sphere, on the inside, but he was immensely curious. He had heard that it was some sort of ball of energy, whatever that meant. He followed the path downward until he was surrounded by hundreds of slaves all making their way to the same place. Whatever it was, he intended to find out.

Assembly lines snaked through the grounds, around various duty stations while several guards with clubs overlooked them all. Coffman made his way to the line where he saw many of the bigger people gathering. These were the heavy lifters used to carry large bags of debris away from the site. This was the perfect job for him. He knew it would provide him a chance to get close to the Sphere and give him an excuse to walk away without arousing suspicion. When it was his turn in line, he was given a large, durable bag and a shovel. The guard motioned him and a few others toward the entrance of the Pyramid.

This was the first time Coffman had a chance to see the structure up close. It was a work of art, clearly meant to be portable. It seemed the Nestorians had no intention of leaving the Pyramid in place. In fact, he noticed that the massive building was on large, durable wheels that would allow it to be moved over long distances. Maybe it was mobile so it could be moved toward Jekyll Rock or even Farlaweer. Coffman wasn’t sure how such a large structure would be moved, but that was clearly the intention.

Each of the slaves was checked at the entrance for any sort of contraband; they were only allowed to have a bag, shovel and the clothes on their backs. As he was waiting, Coffman could overhear two of the guards talking about something. Of course they didn’t care whether he overheard because he was a lowly slave that could do nothing. But they didn’t know who he was. Information was his mission.

“Third wave of tests start in a few minutes,” one of them said. “Are we going to evacuate the slaves this time? It really slows their progress.”

“No,” the other one said. “If they’re slow, beat them. But slow is better than a halt. The king is coming in today and this is the last test we can make before he gets here. General Mintuk wants everything to be perfect. Keep them working.”

“Yes, sir,” the other said and turned to leave.

Coffman couldn’t help his wide-eyed expression. From what he had just gathered, he was about to see the weapon in action.

While the guards checked his gear at the door, he ignored their comments about him being such a big guy, and he made his way through the entrance. The Pyramid looked almost completed on the outside, save for the north wall, and the inside was completely hollow. The apex towered several hundred feet in the air, and the four bases were more than a thousand feet apart. But none of this is what captured Coffman’s attention.

In the center of the room, on a raised platform stood a pedestal. It was about four feet high and was hexagonal in shape. Coffman noticed the six round slots on each side, each painted a different color. He instantly wondered if they were meant for the medallions.

He bent over with the other slaves around him, pretending to shovel mounds of dirt and rocks into the bag. From the corner of his eye he could see a group of slaves, all shackled, some looking down at their feet, others shaking uncontrollably, only yards from the pedestal. One of the guards gave an order, and everyone’s head shot up. The masked Nestorian motioned to some other guard who nodded and commanded the manacled slaves to step forward into a designated square. Fear was etched across all their faces. Everyone stopped working to see what would happen, and they weren’t scolded because the guards were not paying any attention to them.

Then, a striking Nestorian, who Coffman knew must be General Mintuk, emerged from a group of guards. His elaborately decorated mask greatly outshined the others. He walked toward the platform where the pedestal stood and reached inside his cloak. He pulled out the orange medallion and set it firmly into the orange slot. A burst of light shot out from the medallion’s center as soon as it was placed in the setting, and above it, a bluish sphere of light began to form. Coffman didn’t know what the Sphere was, or how the magic worked. All he felt was terror.

The ball of light began to spin and grow wildly to the size of a small boulder. Mintuk stepped back onto the steps in front of the pedestal and closed his eyes in deep concentration. As the Sphere spun more rapidly, a white line of energy burst outward into the chained prisoners’ chests. The sound was deafening, like being at the bottom of a giant waterfall mixed with screams of terror. The Sphere kept churning and pulling until there was nothing left inside the shackled slaves, and they fell to the ground lifeless; their screams suddenly silenced. Mintuk raised his head, and the Sphere continued to spin soundlessly.

How could this be effective in the least bit? Before Coffman even had a chance to think through any more questions, almost thirty or more masked Nestorian guards rushed to surround the group of dead slaves. Mintuk stepped closer to the pedestal, the spinning Sphere only feet above his head, and closed his eyes again.

The entire interior of the Pyramid was silent and unmoving, but the first sign of movement didn’t come from anything or anyone living.

One of the bodies on the ground began to twitch. A couple of more did the same until they were all doing it. Gradually the twitching turned into a seizure and the seizure into breathing. They were coming back to life. One by one they stood, but not like they had before. Their eyes were lifeless, their expression emotionless. It was as if…

“Loyal servants!” Mintuk shouted from the pedestal, as he stared into the bright Sphere. “Today you are followers of the Nestorians! Today you fight under my command, and my command only! You are dead already, but you live through my orders, for I am the keeper of your souls!” Mintuk stopped for a moment, concentrating on his new legion of soldiers. “Turn to your left,” he commanded.

Each lifeless Human did as they were told.

“To your right!”

Again they all moved sluggishly to their right.

“Now,” he said with a malicious grin, “devour each other!”

Coffman couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Without hesitation, each of the undead Humans began attacking one another with ferocity. They were not deterred or slowed by their own injuries, but seemed bent on destroying the others at all costs. They were mindless! Coffman had to turn away as the slaves began ripping each other to shreds, but the sounds left nothing to the imagination. Shrieks of feral hatred and the spilling of blood filled the wide-open area. It was everything Coffman could do to keep from throwing up. When he finally dared to look back in the direction of the slaves, there were probably one or two left alive. Mintuk motioned with his hand and the Nestorian soldiers drew their arrows and shot them into the moving bodies. Both of them fell to the ground, never to move again.

To some, the weapon may have looked like nothing more than some sort of evil device for execution, but Coffman knew better. The way they followed Mintuk’s commands without question; the way they fought without realizing their pain. The Nestorians were creating an army who cared nothing about pain, who did not question authority. Combining this with the unrelenting force of the Stühocs, there would be no stopping them.

*****

Alric was jolted to his senses when the warning signals sounded throughout the city. A caravan of new slaves, led by Stühocs came in a straight line from the east and all of Voelif was ready to receive them.

Where are they getting all these people?

He and Nalani watched from their high perch above the city as the new batch was processed through and shuffled about. He glanced at Nalani, and he could see the anger written on her face. None of this bothered him like it did her. He never felt the sense of duty to help people like she did. It wasn’t easy for him to pinpoint exactly why he was helping the Dunarians. He knew that Coffman and Inga felt some sort of responsibility to help. Lorcan wanted to be near Inga, but Alric didn’t feel like he had a place. He didn’t care about the politics of Marenon, nor did he care about the wars going on and how they affected everyone else. All of this getting wrapped up with the Dunarians had been accidental. When Silas stepped out of the gauntlet with four others, Alric thought he seemed like the perfect bait for the mission to Timugo. But now, the tables had turned and Alric felt like he was the bait, powerless as he hung above Voelif.

He had always been able to take care of himself. Sure, he had been rescued a few times in his life, but he wasn’t so sure that he couldn’t have gotten out of those situations on his own. Now he was stuck. Now all he could do was wait.

The hours dragged by and only once did they receive some water to drink. No food, of course. He and Nalani talked for some of the time, learning of each other’s past and talking of how she didn’t remember anything about her life on Earth. Alric told her that he didn’t remember much about his life on Earth either, though it was a lie. He remembered everything in great detail, but he didn’t want to talk about that. It was gone. It was history, never to be revisited.

He liked Nalani, though. She seemed to be the type of person Alric would have tried to recruit into his group if she weren’t so devoted to her cause. She had just the kinds of qualities he would be looking for. She was smart, knew how to fight, wasn’t scared of anything and was absolutely gorgeous. Though the last one wasn’t a requirement for being a good mercenary, it sure would have been for Alric’s recruitment decision. No way she would ever go for a guy like him though. She had just left the Human king of Marenon. Alric was nothing more than a thief for hire. She was of a different class. Besides, he could only be with a woman that would go with him on his jobs and live as he did. Though a man can dream, the life he lived was often a lonely one. Alric wasn’t one who settled.

In the late afternoon, the alarms shrieked once again, only this time they were much louder and rang out for a longer period of time.

More slaves?

Nalani and Alric both sat up to watch as Nestorian soldiers and even the slaves were made to stand at attention for the coming caravan. This had to be something different. Even Daewyn to Alric’s right was up on his knees and attentive.

“Yep, this is bad,” he said to the others.

“What is?” Alric asked.

“Nestorians don’t show this kind of respect for anyone except…”

They waited for the Erellen to finish, but he just closed his mouth, watching as the lead carriage ushered in more Stühocs and more slaves. In the middle of the caravan was a massive carriage, but not with barred jail cells like the others. This one carried someone of importance.

“Except for what?” Alric said after a few moments.

“The Stühoc king,” Daewyn said. “That’s Anithistor.”

Nalani gasped at the name. Alric had heard of this Anithistor plenty of times, but it didn’t mean a whole lot to him. Just another stupid, ugly Stühoc.

“Well, I wish they’d shut up with the alarms and bells,” Alric said. “I wouldn’t mind taking a nap.”

“You don’t understand,” Daewyn said. “We’re the first people he’s going to visit. I’m the Erellen prince.” He turned his head to Nalani and Alric. “And you’re up here with me.”

Alric swallowed hard as he turned his head to watch the caravan. This was not good. Daewyn would be the object of Anithistor’s fury, but his high standing in the Erellen nation would most likely serve to keep him alive. The Stühoc king had no reason to keep Alric or Nalani alive. To him, they were nobody. On a whim, he could have them killed and it would mean absolutely nothing.

Alric thought about the endless cages of Human slaves that he saw in Mudavé when he had been there only a few months before. It looked as though the caravan carried all of them. There were hundreds of barred carriages following each other in line. These were the brainwashed slaves that Maroke had spoken of when they were disguised as Nestorian traders. He wondered how brainwashed they really were, or if they were just so famished and beaten that they would do anything for a meal.

The caravan moved out of sight, the soldiers dispersed, and all the other slaves went back to work. It was near sundown when Anithistor and a small group of soldiers neared the cages.

Alric had been expecting to see an evil-looking, beastly Stühoc like Maroke, but the king was quite different. Anithistor stood tall in black robes. He didn’t look like most of the other Stühocs. His face wasn’t deformed or scarred all over. He almost looked Human, except for his gray skin and unnaturally dark eyes with no white showing. His features were thin and his eyebrows creased downward producing a constant scowl. His hair was cut short and the gray skin on his face reflected the fading sunlight, almost giving him a supernatural aura. Several tattoos ran down his neck, probably continuing into an intricate pattern over his entire body.

Alric and Nalani exchanged glances, both completely surprised by the Stühoc king’s appearance. Throughout most of his reign, almost no one had seen Anithistor. Most people considered him merely a myth up until now, but in the last three months he had begun conducting business in person as many important people in his kingdom had been killed. Alric wondered how much the king hated the Dunarians. They had killed his general and possessed four of the six medallions. Surely he had to be getting nervous. That is unless this weapon that Coffman found proved to be something bigger than any of them could imagine.

Alric watched as the crowd gathered around Anithistor. Next to him were several people who looked important, and then there was General Mintuk. Anithistor looked up at the caged prisoners individually and his gaze finally rested on Daewyn.

“All too humorous to see the son of the Erellen king trapped in a cage,” Anithistor said. His voice was higher than Alric expected, almost shrill, but it lost no power. “I expect you will tell me that I can do anything I want with you, but Jiaros Florelle will never give in to my demands.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Daewyn said.

“I assure you, I have no intention of bargaining with your father. I simply want to make an example of you. I want to make him feel pain and anger. After what we do to you, he will attack us in a rage, and we will crush him easily enough.”

“Do what you want, but my father is not a fool.”

“You are right. But he is a father.” Anithistor turned away from Daewyn and looked at Mintuk. “Who are the other two?”

Mintuk shook his head. “I don’t know who they are, but they were trying to steal the medallion.” He patted his chest as if to say that it was still safe with him.

Anithistor’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you want to steal the medallion?” he called up to them.

Nalani and Alric kept silent.

“No matter,” Anithistor said after moment. “I am told the Pyramid will be completed in two more days. I’m sure the three of you would be honored to be first Soldiers of the Dead for my army.”

They glanced at each other, confused.

“You like the name I’ve given it? Soldiers of the Dead?”

“I will die before I’m part of your army,” Daewyn yelled out.

“Precisely,” Anithistor said, and then turned and left.