The Marenon Chronicles Collection

Chapter Two





Silas Ainsley could barely remember what happened to him days before. Had it been days? A week? He couldn’t tell. The darkness and bare walls of his prison cell provided no indication of time. He had slipped in and out of consciousness on several occasions, but this was probably due to exhaustion rather than the beating he had received from Marcus.

Everything had happened so quickly. Silas remembered killing Saul. It had been a feeling of great victory. He remembered the Gatekeeper, Silandrin, taking out Theron in a blaze, though Silas was sure that Silandrin had died as well. After those moments everything became hazy.

He remembered the dragon crashing into him. He remembered Marcus riding the dragon. Then he was flying high above Marenon. Now he was in this dark cell. What had happened to Inga? Was she still alive? There was no way for him to know. He had told her that he loved her. He had kissed her in a last attempt to win her heart, but Saul had interrupted them. Was she dead?

His head pounded as he brought himself off the stone floor and sat upright against the wall. The smell of the air was familiar. Smoky, sulfuric. Perhaps Marcus had taken Silas to Mudavé. He wondered why the man hadn’t just killed him as Saul had planned all along. Silas recalled Marcus saying something about the Possessor changing his mind. Something about the eighth Sleeper?

Footsteps.

They were moving toward his cell and a second later, the loud click of a turning key sounded through the tiny room. When the door swung open, Silas could only see the outline of two dark figures standing silently as if to study the timid Human. One was shorter than the other and wore a hooded cloak that disguised his face.

“He is not as I expected,” the tall one said.

The short one turned his head as if to say something, but was silent. The tall one seemed to be listening as though the hooded figure was communicating somehow.

“But he has acted like one,” said the tall one in response to something inaudible. After he spoke, he reached out a hand and immediately conjured a fireball.

Silas brought his hands to his eyes to keep from being blinded. The fireball then floated to the top of the room, providing enough light for all of them to see.

As his eyes adjusted, Silas could finally see the features of the tall one. His pale, gray skin indicated he was a Stühoc. Indecipherable markings ran down his skinny neck and his dark hair was cut short. His black eyes bore into Silas, driving a deeper fear within him.

The short one remained concealed behind his hooded cloak, but his bare hands revealed the same gray skin. They were the enemy.

“I’m sure you’re wondering who we are,” the tall one said.

At first, Silas wasn’t sure if he should answer. What did they want with him? Why hadn’t they already killed him? He would not be turned or possessed. There was no way he would allow their power to overcome him.

“I wasn’t wondering,” Silas answered in defiance.

Ignoring it, the tall one continued. “I am Anithistor, king of the Stühocs.”

“Then you aren’t king of much,” Silas said.

Anithistor smiled lightly, but ignored the comment and gestured to the hooded figure next to him. “This is Hroth.”

Silas had never heard of him. He didn’t care to hear anymore.

“What do you want?” Silas asked. “Ransom? Execution? Just do what you will with me and let that be the end of it.”

“You think your death would be the end of it?” Anithistor asked him. “No. Death would not be the end. The Stühocs would still have to work desperately to keep up with this world. Our enemies abound. We could never find our place in this land without help.”

“Maroke said something like that,” Silas said. “I’ve already heard about what you want. I don’t wish to be a part of it.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter what you wish,” Anithistor said. “Only a week ago, I thought it would be best to have you killed. That’s why we sent Saul to finish you. After hearing of your fight at the Gatekeeper’s home, I came to the realization that you probably can’t be killed. The prophecy about you is indeed true.”

Silas was not going to tell him that he actually could be killed. The Gatekeeper had the vision, the dream that revealed nothing more than the fact that Silas was the only one who could deliver Marenon. Silandrin had never said it was certain. Whatever the outcome, Silas did not believe his objective as the Deliverer was to help the Stühocs.

“Yesterday, Hroth and I decided that if you could be captured, then that would be best. You aren’t going to turn to our side on your own. But perhaps we can make you help us.”

Hroth stepped forward, and Silas took a defensive position as he pulled himself to his feet. The chains on his wrists kept him from guarding himself effectively, but he wasn’t going to let them have it easy.

But Silas wasn’t ready for Anithistor’s magic.

An invisible force grabbed his wrists and pinned him against the cold wall when the Stühoc king stretched out his arm. Silas could not move as Hroth approached him slowly. The dark Stühoc reached out his long, bony fingers and placed them on the sides of Silas’ blonde, shaggy head.

At first, he wasn’t sure what Hroth was trying to accomplish, and he couldn’t help but notice the evil smile etched across Anithistor’s face. But Hroth gripped Silas’ head tighter and the pressure shot pain through his skull.

He then heard the voice.

Do you understand me?

Silas refused to answer.

I know you do. Answer me now, or I will squeeze until your head breaks.

“Yes!” Silas shouted. “I can hear you!”

Talk to me with your mind.

Yes.

Good. Whom do you serve?

I serve no one, Silas thought.

You will serve me.

Never.

In time, you will serve me.

I would die first.

It may come to that, but that’s what the others said too. Yet all of them succumbed to my will. All of them answer the voice. They heed my words.

I’ve met with the Gatekeeper, Silas thought, I know the truth about the prophecy. The true prophecy says I cannot be turned. It said I would deliver Marenon from the Stühocs.

It’s useless lying to me, Hroth told him. I am in your mind.

I’ll destroy all the gates, all the medallions, Silas continued. The Stühocs will have nothing left when I am finished.

You will do no such thing. You do not possess any of the medallions. The Erellens would never give you theirs and I keep the orange one in my personal tower. You won’t be leaving this room until you are mine anyway.

You don’t know anything, Silas protested.

I know your hopes, your desires.

You lie.

You often think of the girl. Her name is Inga?

Silas knew he wouldn’t be able to keep Hroth in the dark. With this kind of power, Silas wasn’t sure he would be able to resist the Stühoc. How could he get Hroth out of his mind?

She is not dead. Marcus didn’t take the time to kill her. She is safe. Back in Jarul.

Silas wondered if this was true. He wondered if Hroth was only saying this to put Silas’ mind at ease.

I care nothing about putting your mind at ease, Hroth answered his questioning mind. I’m only here to give you the truth. We are not monsters as your grandfather has made us out to be. We are not destroyers as Silandrin said we were. We are like anyone else, looking for our place in Marenon. Of course our kind has made mistakes in the past. What group has never made mistakes? You will help us right our wrongs. You will give us a place in this world. You will be our Deliverer.

“I will not!” Silas yelled.

Hroth eased his grip on Silas’ head, and Anithistor released the magic that held him, and moved back next to the entrance of the cell. They looked at each other for a long moment and Anithistor smiled widely.

“Hroth tells me the gate to your mind is easily opened. He says you will be easier to turn than any of the others, except for maybe Mintuk. Interesting.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I will leave Hroth to his little project. Until you are turned, the Stühocs will push forward in this war. My Soldiers of the Dead are an unstoppable force. Mintuk is already leading them to your precious Jekyll Rock. Thanks to my army, Julian Hobbes, and Alric Thirsk, the Dunarians will soon cease to exist.”

Soldiers of the Dead? Julian and Alric? What was Anithistor talking about?

Hroth and the Stühoc king slammed the cell door shut behind them. Silas couldn’t help but feel relieved that they were gone for the time being. He wondered if Inga really was all right, or if Hroth had been lying to him to calm his mind. He didn’t know what he would do if he learned of her death. He didn’t remember seeing Marcus try to hurt her, but Silas had been knocked unconscious quickly. He shook his head. He could do nothing from this cell. Worrying would only make his time here more difficult. He had to come up with a plan.

Who was he kidding? There could be no plan. Silas couldn’t escape. Not without help. He rested his head against the wall and shut his eyes. The darkness was no different with his eyes open or closed, but this was better.

You will become the eighth Sleeper.

Silas jolted at the sound. No. Thoughts. The thoughts were in his own mind. Why did he think that?

I am the Possessor. The voice.

Silas couldn’t believe it. Hroth was able to access to his mind without being in the same room. Without touching him.

I wasn’t lying when I told Anithistor that breaking your mind would be easy. We had Kaden for a week and I hadn’t come close to getting into his thoughts. We had put him outside, exposed to the elements, hoping physical torture would help break his resolve. Then you came along. You rescued him before we could break him. And how ironic that I broke into your mind in seconds.

“Get out of it!” Silas said. Why had it been so easy?

I have a feeling you and I are going to have plenty of time to get to know one another, Silas Ainsley.

Silas didn’t know what to think. Hroth read every thought that flowed through his mind. The Stühoc Possessor missed nothing, and he let Silas know it.

Silas did the only thing he knew to do. He screamed. From deep within his belly he let out a gut-wrenching wail that could surely be heard from the other side of the fortress. If he couldn’t push Hroth from his mind, he would think about nothing but the noise. He would do nothing but scream.

But this could not last forever.

As much as Silas wanted to deny it, Hroth had broken into his mind, and it didn’t seem as though he would be leaving anytime soon.