Elijah - 6. Chapter 6: The False King

It rained as the car sped me back to Westfield. Gray clouds spread across the land, from coast to coast. Everything wept for the king. The leather felt cold and everything moved so slowly. I spun the dagger in my palm, wondering what its use would be, wondering if I would ever use it. The king was dead.

 

The king was dead. Murdered. Peace was no longer anything more than a fleeting thought. Only a few hours before, I had shared a conversation with the man. He had wished everything for his country. Dead silence suffocated me. I rolled down the window; the air outside was cold, empty. Shivering, I was not certain what to do anymore.

 

“I will come for you!” It echoed in my head every time I thought of Braden. I considered using the dagger on myself, the same way the dancer had done to rid herself of her sin. Just to end it…right now. Something stopped me, a voice, it soothed me and I began to forget why I would want such a thing. And soon the thought became nonexistent.

 

The countryside became familiar, even though it was drenched in rain. I saw Westfield in the distance; streams of smoke rose into the frosted air. I sat up. Why was there smoke? As the car wove through the fields, we approached a roadblock. Flashing lights bathed the fields in blue and red. Armed soldiers ordered the car to slow. I felt it lurch. My driver spoke to a guard, and then my window rolled down of its own accord.

 

Dripping wet, a young face poked its head in.

 

“What is your business here?”

 

“I live here, what happened?” The man sighed; his face became softer. My heart dipped.

 

“Step out of the car; we’ll take you in.” He shouldered his weapon and opened the door for me. The driver also got out, hailing me.

 

“Sir, I am supposed to give this to you.” An envelope was handed to me. It was small. As it became damp with rain, I felt it; it was a key.

 

The driver departed and the guard rested a hand on my shoulder, moving me through the blockade to an all-terrain truck. I got in. I did not mind the rain. I pocketed the key and the dagger.

 

“A few minutes after the king… was killed…” The solider almost sounded as if he did not believe it. “Westfield was attacked.”

 

“By who?”

 

“We have no idea. There are symbols burned everywhere; we have absolutely no idea.” I shivered. I was numb.

 

“Where do you live?” I gave him directions.

 

The destruction was focused. A few blocks had been assaulted. Large, sizzling, gaping holes littered the ground. A few charred bodies…some hung from the rooftops as if they were trying to escape. It smelled of death and mud. Doors had been blown in, windows shattered; several homes were completely leveled to rubble.

 

We reached my home. It had not been destroyed, although the door had been blown inward, and the windows shattered. The truck slowed and I leapt from it, sprinting.

 

“Hey! Wait, it might be dangerous!” The soldier parked the truck. I heard his boots on the wet pavement. I jumped across the threshold, expecting an attack on me. Nothing came.

 

The inside was in shambles, furniture broken; somebody had been looking for something. I immediately thought of my mother and brother. I went to the stairs, blood streaked across the stairs, handprints. Several large, claw-like gashes traveled up the wall nearest the stairs. I looked at them closer, touching them lightly, they felt hot. I stumbled up the stairs, searching the rooms. Everything was ransacked. There was no sign of life, nothing.

 

I came to my parent’s door; a symbol was burned into the wood. It resembled a sun, blackened, peeking out over a line of red, as if it were rising. I burst through the door, drawing my dagger; I was ready to fight.

 

Nothing. The bed was ripped to shreds. There were more claw marks etched into the walls. A fight had happened here. The television sizzled and sparked in the corner, a lamp flickered in the bathroom. I noticed something on the mirror, in the corner. I felt myself move towards it, pushing the door slightly, the flicker of the light startling me. On the mirror, written in red, perhaps blood. I squinted.

 

-91-

 

“Hey.” I jumped; the soldier was at the door, a somber look on his face. “I’m sorry about all this.”

 

“Yeah.” What else could I say?

 

“Your place was targeted, as was down the street a bit.” I ignored him. The message written on the mirror. What did it mean?

 

“What now?” I asked the soldier.

 

“Well, we have the entire area on watch. We have a few safe houses set up here for the residents that lost their homes.”

 

“What about the king?”

 

“A new one will come, don’t worry.” Why did I even ask him that?

 

“I’ll stay here, if that’s okay. I can fix the door.”

 

“Are you sure?” He asked, concerned.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be leaving with a friend soon.” I hoped.

 

“I can have a guard outside the house if you’d like.” He sounded genuine.

 

“Sure.” He left.

 

I stayed in my home for three days. The rain continued. I fixed the door myself, borrowing a few tools from the guardsmen. No neighbors were around, everything was desolate. There was still food in the kitchen. The assailants had taken nothing; everything of worth was left. My laptop was okay; the television down stairs was cracked, but still worked. The plumbing was fine, except that the upstairs bathroom had been shattered.

 

I lived there, quite alone. I did not even speak to the guard who patrolled the street at hourly intervals. I cleaned everything, trying to make it all normal again. The dagger I kept with me at all times. The first night I slept restlessly, I thought things were in the house I could not see. I felt safe, however. It it was my home. The symbol on my parent’s door I had covered with a towel. It made my insides hurt when I looked at it.

 

On the fourth day, I left the house to wander around. I had ample clothing; the rain did not bother me. I went to find anybody, anything. Where were these safe houses? I wandered down the street slowly, glancing at the houses. It was melancholy, barren. People had been evacuated from our district.

 

I was weak, my food intake had become less and less. I felt light headed often. I had stopped watching the television; it only played a reoccurring address from David.

 

“It brings me great sadness to inform you that Titian Extollere, King of Elijah has been killed.” I watched, staring. David stood on a balcony, protected from the rain; the queen stood behind him, blank, full of sadness. Lidia stood near her mother, comforting her. “Our attempts at peace have been sabotaged, our neighbors, whom we brought into our nation, betrayed us. As rightful heir, I will claim my father’s crown and enact vengeance upon Venz and its peoples. My family and the people of Elijah do not deserve this loss. As we must mourn, we shall. I call upon a time of war. Your prayers and loyalty to the crown will shine brightly in these troubled times. Let us rejoice once we have defeated this vile thing we once thought to call friend.” It would end, and then replay, over and over.

 

My wandering brought me to a row of houses. As I looked up, I noticed something, the numbers, 89, 90, I looked across to the other side…

 

91

 

For a moment I was unsure. Was this what it meant? I hesitated, glancing down the road. No trucks or soldiers came. Rain fell, pearls to a silver platter; I made my way to the door of the house labeled 91.

 

My hand slid into my pocket, gripping the dagger, I was ready. I knocked.

 

Nothing answered except the rain. I knocked again.

 

Nothing.

 

I knocked harder, banging. “Answer!” I yelled to the gray sky. “Answer me!”

 

“Oi, shut up, shut up… I’m coming.” The door jiggled and it opened, an elderly man stood there, squinting at me. He held a shotgun under his shoulder, poking at me. “What in the hells do you want boy? Food? I got none, bugger off!” He began to shut the door.

 

“Wait! Uh…sir…” I stammered. “I… your house number was at my home?”

 

“Huh? Are you mad? Bugger off boy!” He was grumpy.

 

“My name is Jeremy.” It was so sudden. The old man considered it for a moment.

 

“Worthington? From down the street there?”

 

“Yes…” I trailed off.

 

“Come in.” I entered. He shut the door, locking it several times with various locks. The interior was nice, wholesome and warm.

 

“Figured you would come along sometime. Your brother is in the other room, resting.”

 

“What?” I jumped, startled. I almost darted about the house.

 

“Oi, hold it there, boy. Quiet now. He is resting. He was all caught up in the mess earlier… this way.” He motioned with his gun. We went into another room; a cot had been set up. Christian was sleeping soundly; bandages were around his right arm and chest. I sank next to the bed and just stared. The old man sat in a large chair.

 

“What happened?” I asked.

 

“Long story,” the old man grunted.

 

“I have time. Is he all right?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, a few gashes and such; I just patched him up.” I turned to look at the man. He had cold eyes, a stern face. “Well, they came pretty quickly.” The man lit a pipe and began to puff at it. “Once the king was attacked, it hit the news instantly, a few moments later they came. No idea how, explosions, odd machines. I couldn’t see them that well…eyesight is bad.” He pointed to his eyes.

 

“They?”

 

“No idea, they had dark robes and such, dark armor. It was raining. They had wicked weapons, odd things happened, flashes of light, death. Lots of fire. Anyways…” He paused, puffing once more. The room slowly filled with a relaxing smell of pine. “Several times they entered your place, and another across the street, several tall ones, looked like they were wrapped in cloth, large claws, it was frightening. By that time soldiers arrived, started fighting. The attackers were winning, a woman came outside screaming, holding him.”

 

“Where is she? Is she okay?” The man looked down.

 

“They took her. I managed to get the boy from her, got one of those things that attacked, came after me. If you want to see it. Its downstairs in the basement.” He smiled, a toothy grin. It must have been quite an accomplishment. “So I took him, holed up here with me trusty gun.” He patted the shotgun. “Bandaged the boy up.”

 

I looked down to Christian, touching his face lightly.

 

“And I’m sorry, ya know… assumin’ that’s your mum and all. I’m glad he is okay…that your brother?” The old man was not very good at making me feel any better. I sighed.

 

“Yeah, can I talk to whatever it is downstairs?” The man raised an eyebrow.

 

“If ya want, hells, I won’t go down there.” I drew my dagger. I glanced at my brother, squeezing his hand. I hoped he knew I was here.

 

“Let’s go.” The man sat up slowly. I could almost hear his bones creaking, and it made me smile as he cursed about his back. The first time I had smiled in a while. He led me to the basement door.

 

“All right, I chained it up a bit, dunno if it’s alive, or dead, or anything. Be careful, ya hear? Just run up the stairs, ya know… if it gets bad…” He cocked the shotgun and nodded.

 

I gripped the dagger, opening the door, pausing; I breathed and stepped into the darkness of the basement.

 

The stairs screeched as I went down. It smelled of dust and wood. I could hear chains, rustling slightly. A bulb bathed the basement in a flickering light; I glanced back up to the old man who gave me a courageous salute. Hope began to fade.

 

My shoe touched the floor of the basement. Stacks of boxes soared to the ceiling; it was a maze. The chains rustled again, the bulb flickered again. My grip on the dagger forced my knuckles to turn white. I was certain the old man upstairs could hear my heart beating. I rounded a corner of boxes; the basement extended farther. A soft rustling forced me to look to the shadows. They crept along the walls, the bulb swung slightly. I breathed.

 

I saw it. Whatever it was. The chains seemed to grip only darkness; cloth swirled and moved. The bulb kept swinging, the light rolled back and forth, I could not see it well. I was terrified. The bulb swung again, another view. It was completely shrouded in dark cloth. A hood covered its head; there was no face, instead there was plating—a face made of plate allowing only an image that appeared stoic, bored, almost sad. It was like a frozen theater mask.

 

The bulb swung again, and the masked thing was not there. I froze. The light flickered.

 

I felt the air move; it crawled, like sheets over skin. It was near me. I felt it, but I could not see it.

 

Whispers filled the room; I could not understand them but they moved. I felt the cold of the mask. The bulb swung and the thing was back where I had seen it, hanging from the chains, immobile. I held the dagger in front of me.

 

Laughter echoed around me; it was soft, but mocking. The light swung once more, the head was upright, staring at me through the frozen mask. The head tilted slightly. A sleeve came forward, chains rattled; a hand beckoned me, a hand of metal, sharp long claws. An index finger beckoned and I could not resist.

 

The bulb flickered, swinging. It was gone again.

 

I felt the point of the claw travel down my jaw while ebon sheets dripped against my skin, I wanted to fall back, to sleep forever, and wrap myself in the darkness. The masked face bent toward my ear; the writhing darkness shrouded me. I had a sudden memory…Caleb, drawing a sword tip along my jaw…if faded quickly.

 

I could hear the whispers again; one among them stood out but it was in a tongue I had never heard. It was not the ancient language of Venz; it was colder, and it froze my nerves and made me cringe. I suddenly broke free of the enchantment. I whirled around with my dagger, and shadows hissed and vanished.

 

The sound of my breathing was outmatched by laughter. I turned slowly, looking for the source, but was it everywhere. The light flickered again, swinging; the thing was chained up once more.

 

“What do you want?”

 

Whispers filled the air again; the mask was blank. Nothing was there, just a mask. Nothing.

 

“What do you want?” I asked again. I kept my eyes focused on the prisoner. I blinked and it was gone.

 

I felt it near me, the claw reaching toward my neck, sharp fingers again touching my jaw.

 

“What…do you want…?” I pleaded. Whispers filled my thoughts, my mind, but one stood out in stark contrast.

 

“Elijah.”

 

I took a sharp breath. I whirled around, stabbing at the shadow; it swirled, and the light made it vanish. The thing had returned to the chains. My dagger pointed toward it.

 

“You will never get Elijah. Never!”

 

“Elijah.”

 

I swiped my dagger at the air, threatening. “No!”

 

The shadows, the cloth, the nothing surged forward, blotting out the light, the chains did not hold it. It was here of its own accord. The mask was before me, I could feel the cold but there was no breath. I felt the claw again, traveling across my forehead, the shadows swirled about me; I could not move.

 

“Are you afraid, hero?” It had a thousand voices, echoing, whirling my mind. I cringed; my grip on the dagger was limp. I could not move at all.

 

“No.”

 

“Liar!” The word was hissed; darkness crept on my skin. It felt real, palpable. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, but only heard the voice of the creature. “Liar! Liar!”

 

“What do you want?” I pleaded this time.

 

“Elijah.”

 

“No. Take…take Venz, not here, not now.” There was laughter, mocking, and then, a chorus of laughter.

 

“This land is ours. You took it!” The long steel claw, traveling across my face, stopped. It felt wet. There was a sting. I felt blood trickling from the path the claw had etched on my face.

 

“What are you?”

 

“Your end.”

 

Then it was gone. The light became brighter; the basement lost the cold cringe. The chains hung, empty. I ran up the stairs.

 

The old man waited, gun pointing.

 

“Are you all right?” He saw the blood on my face, and gestured me toward the kitchen. “What happened.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Let me…” he rummaged through pots and pans pulling out a cloth, soaking it in water. “Here.” I used the cloth to dab at the blood. The bleeding stopped quickly.

 

“What happened?”

 

“It is something not from this nation. It spoke to me, it was odd…” I felt dazed, I found I could not remember what had happened only moments ago; everything was blurry.

 

“What did it say?”

 

“It wants Elijah.”

 

“The country?”

 

“I don’t know, it just said that it said it would be ‘my end’.” I shrugged; I still gripped the dagger in my hand. I set it on the table and sighed.

 

“Hmm… how about you rest here for the night, eh? I’m sure your brother will be all right in the morning.” I nodded.

 

The gray day turned to a rainy evening. I remained next to Christian most of the time. The old man brought me some sort of drink that made me sleep instantly. I was invaded by dreams that night.

 

I stand in a field of gold. Grain bends around me in ripples, the wind tickles my cheeks. I can feel its gentle caress. The fields extend as far as my eye can see. Toward the horizon, they rise. Atop the hill of grain stands a gigantic tree that could touch the sky if it wished. The air is crisp, clouds move at a speed I have never before seen. I go to the tree.

 

The grain gives way to grass, and the tree is even larger than it seemed as it looms over, providing cool shade. A young man sits under the tree reading from a tattered book. His hair is tousled; he has a kind face. I feel safe, a sense of salvation and calm. He looks up and smiles, setting his book down.

 

“Sit with me.” A graceful motion to a root near him. I can do nothing but obey. I sit and stare into his eyes, I know I could see everything if I wanted to. But I refrain. I say nothing; he merely answers my questions as if he reads my thoughts. I want to touch his face; is he real? I can feel the wind, the knobby surface of the large root I sit on, the grain when I passed through it.

 

His smile is one of kindness, pure and untainted.

 

“You may ask me three questions.” He says. His voice is like honey. I begin.

 

“Where is my family?”

 

“Your mother is held against her will in the nation of Venz. Your father is hidden, in a dark place. His secret is key. Your brother is with an old friend.”

 

I nod. It is all riddles, but I know. It is right. It is the truth. Silence overcomes us; the wind rustles through the leaves as they slowly fall from the tree, settling around us.

 

“Why did the king die, how can I save them. Save them all?”

 

“The king’s death was noble, perhaps not as grand as he would have wanted. You have saved them; by staying alive you have saved everyone. And you must stay alive.” His smile never falters.

 

I sit there, staring at him, the grass, the tree, and the golden fields that extended into a blue, beautiful horizon. I think of Braden, the royal family, the people of Venz and Elijah. My family. I want to play a small part, I know that I must help somehow. I am unsure how, though.

 

“Who are you?” My final question echoes into the beautiful surroundings. The smile falters a moment, but returns with a small laugh.

 

“I am Elijah.” He glances down and picks up the tattered book, opening it. My vision soars away and I awake to loud noises.

 

Gunshots. I stood up; it was evening. Christian was sleeping soundly. The shots came from outside. Another volley of fire. I looked quickly through the old man’s house; he was not there. I gripped the dagger, my only weapon, and slipped outside.

 

The air was cold; the clouds had parted slightly bathing the land in the soft glow of the moon. I heard more gunfire, shouts, and flashes. I shut the door, glanced around, and sprinted toward the sound.

 

I came to another street; a truck was parked, three soldiers hidden behind it, peeking out, shooting at something. One saw me and shouted.

 

“Kid! Get over here now!” It was the one who had lead me in a few days before. I stumbled toward the truck, sliding across the wet asphalt, near the wheel. “Stay down. A few of them came back.”

 

“Who? There is an old man in that house, and my brother!”

 

“No idea kid. Old man? The only person there was you; there is no old man!” He stood, fired a few shots and knelt lower, rolling across the street to another car, using it as cover. A howl of wind ripped past the car, throwing up asphalt leaving a streak deep enough to reach the dirt below; I stared at it. There was no old man? Then who…

 

“Idiots! They are behind the vehicles!” It was a woman’s voice, high pitched, screeching. I got on all fours and peeked under the car to see the attackers. The moonlight illuminated them.

 

A woman stood, clad in black. Brilliant red hair, pale face dripping in black makeup that ran down from her eyes and along her jaw. Was she Venz? She felt different. She held a small sword in her hand; the sword appeared to be made of…black glass. Two other figures stood near her. One was a tall robed thing; I could not see the face. It held a large weapon, a broadsword. The other was a regular looking man holding a rifle; he was shooting randomly toward the cars.

 

The soldier stood up and fired, hitting the ordinary looking man in the leg. He cursed, bouncing backward. The woman turned, yelling.

 

“This is the help they send me. Gods, must I do everything?” She glanced at the tall, robbed figure. “Thaddeus, kill them, darling, please.” There was a loud roar and the figure launched into the air, robes flying in all directions. I rolled away from the car and prepared to run. It landed on the car near my soldier friend; flames exploded and the creature’s sword impaled the young man. He gurgled, screamed. It whirled around and was assaulted by gunfire. It tossed the soldier’s body into the air. I stumbled backward, Thaddeus growled. The hood fell as it lunged for another soldier; more gunfire followed. I froze in surprise: under the hood it appeared to be only a pale, crimson-eyed, ugly man.

 

The soldier had been eviscerated by the sword; entrails spread every which way. I wanted to vomit. The only surviving soldier began to run. I ran with him.

 

“Why can’t you kill it?” I yelled, panting. Thaddeus gave chase; however, he was slower.

 

“No…idea…” the solider panted. “Guns don’t work, I don’t know why, just slows them.”

 

“This way!” I made for the old man’s house; my brother was still there. The soldier followed. As we neared the house, I heard something whistling loudly through the air.

 

A moment later, a sword impaled the soldier. I turned to see Thaddeus launch into the air once more; this time, his target was me. I stumbled backwards, and then sprinted as fast as I could for the door. The hulking thing had retrieved his sword from the soldier’s body. Grunting, he stalked towards me, I turned to face him.

 

Thaddeus raised his sword; I raised my puny dagger. Thaddeus struck, but as the sword met my dagger, it stopped. Thaddeus gurgled, and a symbol appeared on his brow, burning. He howled, and turned instantly into dust. A cloud of pale dirt enveloped me. I coughed, and waved it away.

 

Caleb stood a few paces from me, sword outstretched to where Thaddeus had been. Next to Caleb was Braden.

 

“Is it my job to save everyone?” Caleb asked. I beamed and ran towards them. Bypassing Caleb, I threw my arms around Braden. He returned my embrace, and rested his chin upon my hair. I could smell him, feel his heartbeat. I shivered. Everything suddenly was better. We broke our embrace.

 

“Don’t I get something?” Caleb asked, raising an eyebrow, lowering the sword.

 

“Thanks,” I said.

 

“Right, of course, thanks…” He snorted, and then wandered over to the dust pile, leaning down to examine it.

 

Braden smiled at me. “Sorry it took so long. We have a lot to do; let’s go.” I stopped, glancing back at the house.

 

“My brother is in there.”

 

“He can’t come; he will just burden us. Avihs will get him in a few hours; she is on her way.”

 

“Will he be safe?”

 

“He will be untouchable.”

 

“You look like shit,” Caleb intoned, returning to us, nodding at me with a grin.

 

“Sorry.” I hid away my trusty dagger and sighed. “It was getting lonely.”

 

“I bet,” Caleb said. He looked around as if seeing the street for the first time. “They really leveled this place.”

 

“Yeah, whoever ‘they’ is.” Nobody replied.

 

“There were attacks on Damascus and on Triptych in Telam.” Caleb filled the silence.

 

“We need to go.”

 

“What took you so long?” I asked. Braden and Caleb were already on the move, I followed.

 

“We had to finish up some loose ends. The king is obviously dead.” Braden did not sound distressed.

 

“Aren’t either of you sad? I mean I…” I was going to tell them how I cried.

 

“Our mourning process will be our swords cutting the throats of the people who did this.” Braden sounded serious.

 

“Who was it?”

 

“We are unsure; we have assumptions, but we are completely unsure. We are going, now, to find out. Since you were there, you might as well come. And, since they want you. And a few others, too. They seem to want families of the soldiers in the battalion that was at one of the fronts.” Caleb looked at me, briefly.

 

Caleb continued his narration. “Apparently, they are targeting family members of any soldier who was active in the Telvarin region. Your father is one, but he is safe. We made sure.”

 

“You knew about this?” We were moving at a brisk pace. Caleb kept looking around; Braden just walked.

 

“Somewhat. It happened earlier than we thought. Since we managed to save some of the families, we have an upper hand.”

 

“An upper hand at what?”

 

“Removing David, for one thing, since we cannot bring him to charge without sufficient evidence. Regardless of guns or law, it is written, a decree set by the Prophets themselves. Enough though, we need to keep moving.” Braden dismissed the thought with a hand wave.

 

“Um, hi…hello…” The woman emerged from the darkness before us. Caleb stepped forward, gripping his sword. The redhead woman giggled, her hair bobbing as she unsheathed the sword of black glass.

 

“Sorceress,” Caleb hissed. Braden pulled me back slightly and drew a pistol. I brought my dagger to bear.

 

“My thanks for destroying my golem; do you know how long it took me to make him?” She seemed annoyed.

 

“What do you want, witch? Move, or you will be arrested under the crown. Magic of any kind is not permitted in Elijah.” Caleb sounded as if he were reading from a script.

 

“Oh, please, you must be the second rate prince. Fancy how your brother is big chief right?” She uttered a cackle; other than that ugly laugh, she was breathtakingly gorgeous.

 

“Silence. Remove yourself now, or I will do it for you.”

 

“As if you could with that toothpick of yours. I want the kid. Hand him over.”

 

I stepped forward; she matched my move. “For what?”

 

“What do you mean, for what?”

 

“What do you want me for?”

 

“They want the families, together, I have no idea. I’m getting paid, let’s go and I won’t kill you all.”

 

“Jeremy…” Caleb hissed, trying to shove me back.

 

“Sorceress, your fight is not with us, but you will be taking no one.” Braden stepped forward, pointing the gun. “Who are you working for?”

 

“Can’t say handsome, sorry.” She shrugged.

 

“Do you have a name?”

 

“Maydis.” She tilted her head, pursing lips. “What does it matter, you giving the kid over, or not?”

 

“Obviously, not.” Caleb brought his sword up, readying himself.

 

“Ugh, are you serious?” She threw up her arms. “I really have no time to do this. I came here, got my construct killed by you fancy pants, and then the other worthless idiot they sent with me. I spent so much time preparing that recall…” She began to mutter to herself. “Whatever, I’ll be back so don’t think you’re all cozy at night, you hear me? You hear?” She pointed at each of us and vanished in a swirl of shadow.

 

“If that is all we have to deal with, we are totally going to win,” I said.

 

“Sadly, it’s not,” Caleb replied. We kept going walking until we were outside Westfield. A few soldiers occupied the checkpoint; we walked past without them saying much of anything. Caleb was a prince after all, and Braden was a lord. We took one of the trucks and traveled north. Caleb drove like a madman, but we made headway, wherever we were going.

 

I kept asking where, but I was met with silence. We stopped after hours of driving through countryside. We had reached a small grouping of village homes at the top of a hill, abandoned. There we set up camp. Caleb built a fire, and then went out to look for something to kill and eat.

 

Braden stayed with me; we sat near the flickering fire.

 

“He was studying to become a paladin, you know.” Braden spoke of Caleb.

 

“Why? He was a prince.”

 

“Perhaps that was why; perhaps it was because he wanted to be more than the second prince. In any case, Caleb likes to do things his own way. He can control light fluxes, too, which is odd. I thought that was genetic, and as far as I know, no one else in his family can do that.” Braden shrugged. He stared blankly into the fire.

 

“What’s wrong?” I warmed my hands. It was getting cold.

 

“They killed my father. They attacked our estate. I was too late; my sister is under house arrest, in the Seat of Elijah. Lidia is keeping an eye on her.

 

“I…I’m sorry…” I did not know what else to say.

 

Braden waved his hand, dismissing it. “I knew it would happen one day. My father knew quite a bit of what they don’t want people to know.”

 

“What was it that he knew?”

 

“He was a part of a group of people who knew these days of dark would come eventually. It was just a matter of when. The other deciding party works in…mysterious ways I suppose.”

 

“Do you know who they are?” I asked.

 

“Not quite. We are going to figure it out and having you with us will keep them moving. They will have to spread their efforts.”

 

“They took my mother,” I said. Braden glanced up.

 

“They are trying to bait us; they were probably coming for your brother. They did not know you were in Westfield. I am almost certain of that.”

 

“What of the other families?”

 

“Out of the five, two of the three are alive, the rest are dead. Assassinated, brutally killed, directly after the death of the king.”

 

“You’re a Duke now?”

 

“In essence, I am the Duke of Riven, yes.” He did not look pleased. “A part of me wanted the title only when my father passed away on a bed of old age, but, alas it is not to be so.”

 

“What happened after you told me to leave?”

 

“I tried to find David, I could not find him. He went into hiding that day and then resurfaced claiming the crown. Lidia is there, keeping things calm. David is mad, at least that is what she told me last time she spoke to me. The queen is there as a virtual prisoner. David is working hard to create a façade that it was Venz. I am certain it wasn’t. We were not one hundred percent sure who is behind this, it might not even be David. He is taking advantage of the situation. To let his father die…” Braden shook his head.

 

“What happened to Rodef, and the rest?”

 

“They left, only hurting a few people who shot at them. They were gone before anything could be said and done. David declared my father a conspirator against the crown, and had him killed. I am also wanted, obviously.” He shrugged.

 

“Wow.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“What now?”

 

“We are going to Jarvaxia.”

 

“The prison, why?”

 

“Going to visit an old friend. An uncle of mine.”

 

“Does he know something.”

 

“Probably, although he is a jerk.” Braden smiled at the thought. I smiled, too. I had no idea why.

 

“Won’t you be arrested if you go there?”

 

“Probably not. Remember that packet I gave you? Do you still have it?” I nodded and took it out of my shoe. I had put it in there for safekeeping while I was alone in my house. It was soggy. “That’s the key to his cell. He is… high priority, so the only key was in the Court Treasury. Caleb is going to arrive at the jail and pretend that he is handing me over. You will come, too, and then we can sneak away and go speak with him.”

 

“Did you steal the key?”

 

“A few days before the attack, I took it out. I figured there would come a time when we would need to speak to him. David is not smart enough to check the extraction records either.” Nothing is by chance, I remembered.

 

I spoke my thoughts to Braden. “Was this all planned?”

 

Braden shrugged. “Organized chaos, if you will.” At that point, Caleb returned with more firewood and a small rabbit. We dined lightly that night, and slept restlessly.

 

The dawn came and we were off again, traveling north at high speed with Caleb’s insane driving. We were moving toward Venz, to the borderlands, to the fabled prison of Jarvaxia. It was the home of the worst criminals in Elijah, and from lands beyond. It was a desolate tower at the brim of the Waste, which was the beginning of the Venz border.

 

As the day grew deeper, so did the sun; the heat became intense. The countryside slowly painted into arid land, sparse plants. When we reached the desert, the road turned to rubble, and then to dust. The tires threw up sand as we traveled toward the shadowy spire that rose in the distance.

 

As we approached the tower, we saw roads once again. A fence stretched for miles across the barren desert. Towers were scattered here and there. We reached the first checkpoint. It was a solid steel gate. Several armed guards stood in front; one held up a hand to slow us.

 

“Papers, please…” He trailed off, suddenly standing at attention. “My prince.” The others at the gate all stood at attention. “What brings you to Jarvaxia?”

 

“I am bringing the Duke of Riven into custody. I will take him myself to the Warden, if you don’t mind. He comes willingly; he knows his place.” The guard nodded, went into the guardhouse, and picked up a phone. He was there for some time before signaling the gate to be opened.

 

“You have clearance all the way through, my prince.” Caleb nodded and the steel gate opened inward. We drove through several more gates, each with a patrol of guards at attention. The tower itself loomed above us; it was made of stone and was of ancient workmanship.

 

The main gate was smaller than I had expected. We left the truck. Several armed guards moved toward us. They escorted us inside. We went through several guard stations, bypassed security checks. Royal treatment if you will. The guards left us, and a man in a suit joined us.

 

“My prince, welcome to Jarvaxia. The warden is currently indisposed; however, I am here to assist you. Shall I take His Grace, now?”

 

“No, I will find him a suitable location. Once I have, you may furnish it to his liking. Until then, please leave us.” The man hesitated, and then bowed as he left the room. We were in the tower, itself. Large elevators provided access to the upper levels. The inside of the ancient tower was modern, with modern hallways. For a prison, it was rather nice. The cellblocks, however, were plain, boring white.

 

We entered one of the elevators and soared upward. Braden took out the key. After some time, we slowed and then stopped. A few feet from the elevator doors was a glass door. Two armed guards standing before it, saluted.

 

“Please provide the key.” One guard gestured to a keyhole. Braden inserted the ancient key in the lock, and turned it. The door hummed, and then opened. The guards remained at attention until the glass door closed behind us. We walked down a short hallway and entered an odd-looking cell, or rather, a study. There were several desks, shelves full of books, and papers flicking in the wind from the large, open windows. A map of Elijah and surrounding lands, including one of Venz, were on the far wall. A comfortable chair, as well as divans and rugs, completed the space. A man leaned against the stone windowsill, looking over the barren waste.

 

“You would think they would toss me in some hole, but no… I am still treated like royalty.”

 

Braden and Caleb entered; I followed, glancing around in wonder. Braden and Caleb both bowed slightly, I did the same. The man turned and wandered toward us. He was dressed in tattered gray clothing.

 

“Nephews, what a pleasure,” He clasped his hands. He resembled King Titian, however he was slightly younger looking. There was a dark, brooding look in his eyes. I immediately knew from my history books who he was.

 

“You are Lucas Extollere…” I breathed; Caleb and Braden both turned suddenly shooting me dirty looks. I added, “the False King.”

 

“You brought a historian, lovely.” Lucas moved toward one of the chairs. Turning it to face us, he sat, and crossed his legs. “What do you want.”

 

“Your brother is dead.” Braden said, in a level tone.

 

“I know, I know. Who is he?” He gestured toward me.

 

“Nobody.” My stomach lurched, and I stared at Braden. Lucas merely shrugged. I frowned at Braden, but I knew it was for show. It had to be, didn’t it?

 

Lucas Extollere had ruled before Titian. He had ruled with an iron fist and had instilled fear. He killed many people for no good reason. He had started the war with Venz, and had won several battles. Later, his brother had denounced him and assumed the throne; the war slowly had faded away. Lucas was infamous for his blood lust and keen sense of war. Some believed he was not a king at all, thus, the False King. He had killed Gregory Extollere to attain the crown.

 

“I see, well… to what do I owe the occasion? You are far from home.”

 

“Why is my father dead?” Caleb asked.

 

The False King tapped his chin as if thinking, but more likely mocking Caleb. “Well, ’tis the way of royalty. When one becomes…unfit, you remove him. Ask your historian there, he should know.” I blushed. Caleb and Braden ignored this.

 

“Did you have anything at all to do with this, Uncle?” Braden asked. His tone was firm.

 

“Me? Heavens no.” Lucas laughed. “It would be impossible to orchestrate this.”

 

“You are such a liar,” Caleb snarled.

 

“Nephew, please, calm yourself. Really I did not. It was bound to happen; think about it. Being king is not the best job in the world.” The words the king spoke to me that night came flooding back. It was true.

 

“Did you speak to David?”

 

“Might have.”

 

“Uncle, we have no time for games,” Caleb growled. “We need assistance.”

 

“And you come here? To me?” He threw back his head, laughing hysterically. “Your father put me here, and you think I will help his kin?” A sword flicked from a sheath, glinting in the light, the blade rested on the throat of the False King. Caleb gripped the hilt.

 

“Threatening now…” Lucas glanced at the sword, however his features remained the same, as if it was all a joke.

 

“I will kill you, right here.”

 

“Do it. I have been stuck in this hellish place for far too long. It is certainly time to go.” Caleb laughed.

 

“The last person who said do it actually died.” Caleb moved the blade further, it pushed at the skin.

 

Lucas shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

 

Caleb removed the sword reluctantly. Braden’s hand rested on the prince’s forearm. “David plans to wage war against Venz.”

 

“He has always wanted war with Venz,” Caleb added.

 

“Venz is quite a vile place.”

 

“You have been there?” I asked suddenly. Lucas leaned over to regard me.

 

“No.”

 

“Then how can you judge?”

 

“When you are king boy, you can do anything.” He returned his attention to Caleb and Braden. I shuffled where I stood.

 

“You do know Elijah will be destroyed if he does that,” The False King said.

 

“We are aware; we cannot match Venz, and they are far too powerful.”

 

“And cunning, those people are a wonder, I think.” He gestured to his shelves of books. “Your father knew how I loathed Venz, so the only reading material he gave me was everything that had to do with that infectious country.” Lucas pointed out the window. “See that horizon?” He paused. “The border of Venz. What a brilliant torture. I am to forever look at the place I hate. I know it is there… and I am forced to read about it. I can’t even kill myself. Those two outside keep me alive. I have long since ignored the fact I cannot commit suicide. Brilliant…it was truly ingenious.”

 

“So what do you know?” Caleb asked.

 

“David came to me asking me how to get in contact with some people in Venz without going over the border. I gave him the names of several people within Cathedral who knew of others. Their days of espionage had ended but they could contact the right people—for a hefty price. That is all he asked. He told me he would see Venz fall before my time; that was it.” Lucas shrugged.

 

“You are certain?”

 

“Why would I lie to you?”

 

Nobody said a word. Braden executed the silence.

 

“Who is he trying to contact in Venz?”

 

“He did not say; this was months ago. Maybe even longer than months, a year or so.”

 

I glanced at Caleb, then to Braden. “Is Venz straight that way?” I pointed out into the vast desert that dragged to the horizon.

 

“Yes,” the False King replied. “Maybe a day’s journey through the Waste and you will reach Sespin Bridge.”

 

“Is it guarded?” Braden suddenly asked.

 

“I’m assuming it is now,” Caleb added. “Since David has proclaimed war.”

 

“He has?” Lucas sat up.

 

“Yes, two days ago. Elijah is at war.”

 

“Has he begun marching on them?” I noticed the urgency in the once king.

 

“I hope not.” Braden trailed off. “We must go, Uncle. Thank you for your time. In time, I am sure you will leave this place.”

 

“I’ve been a good boy for a while you know, dearest Nephew.” Braden gave a mocking smile and bowed, Caleb and I did the same and turned to leave. “Take the elevator to the service floor; there are no patrols there.” He smiled and rose from his chair to go stare out again at the barren waste.

 

We entered the elevator. Caleb clicked the service floor and we went downward. I saw his grip tighten on his weapon. Braden reached into his jacket and kept his hand there. I followed suit, with my puny dagger.

 

“If there is any resistance, we need to remove it.” Braden said. I felt as if he were speaking directly to me, saying, “You must be prepared to do anything for your country, do you understand?” He glanced at me. I nodded. The elevator slowed and the door slid open to reveal an underground garage. Random boxes and crates lined the walls, several trucks and weapon racks occupied much of the rest of the space.

 

“You’d think they would have a guard down here.” Caleb chuckled and began to search the crates. “Take anything that might be useful. Get him a gun, Braden.” He gestured to the gun rack. The now Duke of Riven went over and selected a side arm for me.

 

“You know how to work one of these?” I watched Caleb begin to load up one of the all terrain vehicles with various supplies. I focused on Braden holding the gun out to me.

 

“No.”

 

“Simple, point and shoot.” He grinned and I took the pistol. It felt heavy. I put it inside one of my pockets.

 

“Do you think it will get warm?” Caleb asked.

 

“Not unless there is a storm.” The climate in the Waste was odd, it was mildly warm, but it only became scorching if thunderstorms passed over it. How that happened, no one knew. It was a mystery.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Venz.” Braden said tossing a satchel into the truck we were loading.

 

“We will be killed on sight.” They both ignored me. The elevator chimed, all of us looked up as three soldiers stepped from the elevator. They looked at us, confused for a moment then lifted their weapons, yelling. There was a gunshot.

 

It happened slowly, Caleb came out of nowhere, the jeweled sword brandished, and it flicked in the air. Sparks flew and the bullet that was heading for my shoulder was deflected.

 

“Told you I could do that,” he whispered. Caleb stood shielding me, the armed men stopped for a moment. Recognizing their prince.

 

“Put your arms down.”

 

“You don’t have access…down…here…” one said.

 

“By command of the Crown, I order you to put your weapons down.” Caleb raised his weapon, pointing the tip of the blade at the soldier who spoke. Two of them began to lower their weapons; the one who spoke kept his weapon pointed toward us, vigilant. Caleb stared him down.

 

“We have orders to arrest you, Your Highness, and His Grace and the other boy.” Caleb glanced back to Braden. The Duke pulled out his pistol, but kept it behind his thigh out of sight.

 

“Then we must resist you, I am sorry. This is for the greater good of the country.” Caleb stepped forward.

 

“Wait, my prince, please come without violence. His Majesty, requests your presence, and you, Your Grace.” The guard nodded to Braden.

 

“David is no majestic ruler, fool,” Braden snarled. He raised his pistol, pointing it directly at the guard. The others stepped back, unsure of what exactly to do.

 

“We have orders from the Crown.” The guard growled. “We must obey!”

 

“The Crown is tainted!” Caleb shouted and sprinted forward, the hilt of the sword connected with the guard’s chin, forcing him backward in a summersault. He landed with a cracked jaw. The blade swirled outward, the tip resting at the throat of one of the guards. The other raised his weapon and pointed it at Caleb. A gunshot; the guard toppled over with a bullet in his chest. Braden had fired. The prince looked at the guard, tilting his head, “Do you wish to join them?”

 

The guard shook his head, gulping nervously, “N-no.”

 

“Good, you have done well for the greater good of Elijah. Clean this up.” Caleb sheathed his blade and opened the garage doors. He jumped into the driver’s seat. Braden joined him. I glanced back at the guard who was just staring at the bodies of his fellows, now pooled in blood.

 

I wanted to apologize but I couldn’t. Things were to be done. I got in the truck. As the garage door opened, we sped off into the desert towards Venz.

 

                                                                        ***

 

The truck soared across the sands, an all terrain vehicle, indeed. The sun beat down on us as we drove, but it was comfortable warmth. Unnatural, almost. Not much was said, the only sound was the roar of the engine. I wanted to tell Braden about the thing in the basement, but like the dreams, I couldn’t seem to speak of it.

 

“Avihs should have your brother by now.” I nodded, reluctantly. “She will take him back to Cathedral, safely of course. It is the safest place currently.” I trusted Braden. I trusted both of them, Caleb and Braden. They knew what they were doing, or I supposed they did.

 

We drove farther; the sand settled in our hair and on our skin. The wind picked up, and the sun began to dip lower as the night slowly approached. Shapes began to appear in the haze along the horizon. As we neared them I realized they were outcroppings of what seemed to be ruins: several broken columns, walls of rubble. Caleb pulled up and stopped.

 

“We can rest here until dawn; I suspect the Sespin Bridge is a few miles farther.” I glanced off into the horizon as I dismounted the truck, but could see nothing but sand. The sun sank lower. Caleb prepared a fire and then wandered off, leaving Braden and me alone once again. The Duke rested his head against a large piece of rubble, and methodically cleaned his pistol.

“When I was in Westfield, I saw a symbol.” I said into the silence.

 

Braden glanced up. He was reassembling the gun. “What did it look like?”

 

“A sun rising over some sort of horizon, it was dark colored. It was burned in my parents’ door.”

 

I heard a click as Braden checked the weapon, pointing it at me, looking down the sight briefly. He then set it beside himself. “I have seen that somewhere, actually. Where we are headed, they will know…”

 

“Know what?” Caleb came out from the shadows behind a column, tossing another pile of sticks into the small fire. It cast shadows in all directions. I shivered slightly. It was getting colder.

 

“Jeremy found a symbol in Westfield, a sun rising over a horizon, dark in color.”

 

Caleb frowned, “It could be a mimic.”

 

“Doubtful,” Braden said. I was confused.

 

“A mimic of what?”

 

Caleb waved his hand, “Nothing. We will inquire further once we reach our destination. Remember what it looks like, in case you must draw it.” I nodded. I accepted the fact that I was theirs to command now, even more than before. As much as I was in the dark, I felt something tugging me, something whispering to me that great things would happen. But I was still so unsure.

 

The prince soon retired to a makeshift bed near one of the columns. Braden dozed off. I stared at the star-scattered sky. A loud howl echoed in the distance; some creature. Would it eat us? Who knows? I drifted off into sleep.

 

It is morning, the sun slowly rises over fields of golden grain bending and rippling in the wind. I stand below an oak tree that brushes its leaves against the heavens. Everything is perfect.

 

A young man, familiar to me, stands on the hill with a tattered book in his hand. He is vibrant with youth and the sun glitters on his skin. He smiles to the twelve figures who stand below him. Eleven are men; one is a woman of striking beauty. Each person is different, size, color, and attire. Some look to be noble, others commoners; some look near death. They all stare at the youth who speaks in a liquid voice.

 

“We must pass this along. For I called you here, below this tree. We must pass along that Truth is the most powerful of things.”

 

The twelve nod, agreeing with him and with one another.

 

“We will surely perish before you pass; what shall we do then?” One asks. Another echoes the thought.

 

“No, my time will come soon and thus you shall begin your work. I have built a structure upon which a nation can be built; you must likewise build yours.” He pauses, and turns, pointing to the north. “Synthril.”

 

The woman steps forward. “Yes.”

 

“Go north, create as you wish to create. We shall be allies.” The youth turns to the rest. The woman nods and begins to walk to the north, walking forever. “We will all be allies under this tree.” He gestures to the great oak. “As long as the Truths are upheld, we will never falter and thus our children and children’s children shall prosper.”

 

“Gideon Portalis, go west and produce an heir with a beautiful woman in the village you find. Let us begin trade between our peoples,” the youth proclaims. I stare at him, everything is so familiar, yet each moment I come close to answering my own question, the answer fades away. The youth continues his sermon.

 

“Tylvin Telam, go east, for this is where you shall sit upon a throne of justice.” The man nods and begins to walk to the east. Gideon is already walking to the west.

 

“Uriel Riven, go to the great woods yonder and settle there. For your family and those who rule in your name will be most great. Heroes under my name.” Riven nods and goes.

 

“Hargen Belfala?” the youth asks.

 

“Yes, prophet?”

 

“The sea is your domain, for beyond the sea are lands that are farther than we have ever imagined. There, people live in great cities; yours must shine as brightly. Go.” He gestures toward the never-ending sea; I watch his hand. Wind travels through his fingers, pushing the swirling grain to and fro.

 

I stare at the youth. Prophet?

 

“What of us?” the rest ask in unison.

 

“Be calm my friends,” the youth soothes. “You must all spread the word, uphold the Truth and all shall be well.”

 

“What of the twelve others?” another asks.

 

“They are lost and if they oppose us, then so shall it be.”

 

“They are vile creatures; they use black arts to corrupt and persuade the nomads of this region.”

 

“Then you must thwart them, seal them away with your own arts, bring light to these lands before the gray consumes. Now go, I must rest my eyes.” The rest leave, wandering into the fields.

 

“Who are the others?” I ask. My voice echoes out into the refreshing wind. The youth walks near me, turning, fingering his tattered book.

 

“Twelve who did not believe in me, so they went elsewhere. They search for you.” He smiles at me.

 

“Why?” I ask.

 

“Because I speak to you and only you.”

 

“Why me, though? Why not Caleb or Braden?”

 

“That is not their purpose,” the youth says; he rests a soft hand upon my cheek. I feel it. My skin crawls.

 

“You must not worry. They will not find you as long as you stay close to the heroes of the nation.”

 

“Who is looking for me?”

 

“Wicked men, lost to the vices of the world. They govern powers you will fight. Be brave, you must search inside for that.

 

“What if I need help? How can I find you?”

 

“You have all the help you need, I am just…pushing you in the right direction.” His hand leaves my cheek and he wanders near the tree.

 

“Go, the children of Synthril await you and your heroes.” Then everything is darkness.

 

I awoke to Braden and Caleb already loading the truck. I sat up, rubbing my eyes.

 

“Let’s get going, Jeremy.” Caleb was already in the driver’s seat starting the truck. Braden and I got in and we were off. The dream of the night before bothered me, but I could only remember pieces of it.

 

“How was Elijah originally founded?” I asked, glancing at Braden. The Duke looked at Caleb then back to me.

 

“Caleb can best answer that, since they are forced to study most of that.”

 

“Ugh, really Jeremy? Do you not pay attention in history?”

 

“We haven’t been to school in forever. Besides, I’m just curious.”

 

“All right.” Caleb shifted gears and we sped off, moving farther away from the ruins. “Elijah was established by the Prophet Elijah, and his twelve disciples. They are also called prophets in some texts. Four of the disciples settled the various provinces. Our great, great, great something grandfather—maybe like eight removed—was a Disciple of Elijah, thusly our royal lineage.”

 

“Ah, I have had read of that, but were there more? That was never covered in ancient history.”

 

“According to an archivist from Alexzenstras, there were twenty four disciples. Twelve of them defected from Elijah and his teachings; they were called the Black Prophets, and some say they did dark magic and such. Soon after the kingdom was established, magic was banned and most of the Black Prophets were either arrested or killed. Those who were not killed were sealed away in prisons, magically sealed. It was the last magical act done within Elijah. The Dividing, it was called, or something.”

 

“After some time, that part of the story was said to be a fairy tale; however, the rest is a written account and true. I’ve seen the books in the Royal Archive. The Book of the Oak is also there, supposedly Elijah’s personal notes. He was a genius, I think,” Braden added.

 

“What is Alexzenstras?”

 

“Some sort of ancient city; Elijah supposedly oversaw its creation. It is where He stored information of the realm and realms beyond. It is beyond Venz, in the frozen north.”

 

“Lucas Extollere sent an expedition there that failed in its search for weapons and information to perhaps destroy Venz.” I remembered that from history.

 

“Yup, that is why he is locked up, that and numerous war crimes,” Caleb finished. “This history lesson was great and all, but we have arrived.” We had arrived. The truck skidded along the sand as it rolled into dirt; we braked at a cliff edge. Exiting the truck, I wandered to the edge. A large chasm extended east and west as far as I could see. The land on the other side was Venz.

 

The Parmash Divide. It was said that the Venz used their magic to create the chasm to prevent the armies of Elijah from ever attacking their country. The only route between the two countries was over one of four bridges. Braden kicked some rocks into the crevasse. They twirled down into the mist that held sway over the bottom of the chasm, swirling and twisting in darkness. I stepped back, frightened for a moment. I did not want to be pushed.

 

“They say that if you fall into that mist, you are locked there forever, suspended. Some sort of enchantment. Anyway,” Caleb said, as he pointed. “There is Sespin.” I saw the bridge to the west, a mile or two. We returned to the truck and sped along the edge of the chasm. I forced Braden to sit near the window. I sat in the middle, as far as possible from a tragic fall.

 

The Sespin Bridge rose higher than I had expected. It was formed of a material that could have been black crystal or metal. It was said that steel had been infused to hold it together. Jagged stalagmites soared into the sky, and glittered in the sun. There were no guardhouses, no guards, nothing. There was only the great span across the chasm.

 

“Why don’t they have men here?” Caleb asked. His voice held a touch of nervousness. I suddenly became incredibly paranoid, sitting up, looking around.

 

“This is not good. Do you think we should get out?” Braden directed the question at Caleb.

 

I scowled. “Yes, let’s get out.”

 

Braden shot me a look, and then Caleb turned in his seat to look at me. The prince turned to the duke, and then asked me, “Do you know what’s going to happen?”

 

“W…what? No?” I sank into my seat.

 

“If you do, we need to know right now.”

 

“I don’t! What do you mean? Let’s just…walk.”

 

Caleb looked harder at Braden; they were saying things with their eyes I could not follow. I was furious. I was dropped back into confusion. The prince sat back in the driver’s seat, deep on contemplation. “All right, out.” He jumped out, drawing his sword and hoisting a satchel over his shoulder.

 

Braden drew his weapon and grabbed another bag; I joined them and drew my pistol. Just in case, you know?

 

Caleb went first, stepping onto the bridge. Why they were so cautious, I did not know. H`HHe gestured for us to follow, and we strode onto the bridge. It was longer than I first suspected. My breathing was heavy and I looked at the glittering spires of the bridge. Was it merely a shadow, or was something trying to keep from being seen?

 

I bumped into something; it was Caleb. He immediately pushed me back, behind him. Braden stepped beside Caleb. I pushed past them, although Caleb growled and tried to grab me. They were looking at a woman who was standing at the far end of the bridge. I stumbled backwards; Braden caught me and dragged me to his chest, wrapping his arm around me.

 

“I can handle myself, thanks,” I snarled rather harshly.

 

“Only protecting you,” Braden whispered.

 

The woman was tall, slender; she wore a mantle about her shoulders, a stole of ribbons. Her legs were toned and smooth, small boots seemed to settle perfectly in the sand she stood upon. The thing I focused on was the large, wicked looking scythe in her hand. Her face was painted, similar to Rodef from the Conference in Cathedral. However, her makeup was lavish, far more intricate.

 

“Have you ever read how the women fight?” Caleb whispered to us.

 

“No, I thought they only had males as patrols and such? What the hell is this?” I was frightened now. If they didn’t know, that means we were in deep.

 

Women controlled Venz. That fact, and their exceptional fighting style was about all we knew about them. Women were never seen on the battlefield. They served as generals, behind the lines, or fought their enemies from afar, with magic.

 

A shadow lept from one of the spires and landed gracefully near the woman. It was a large, cat-like creature, large enough to maul a man. Beautiful stripes riding across its body and a set of smooth, sharp horns marked it as a liger. A slender hand snaked from the woman’s cloak to caress the creature; it was a pet. I gulped.

 

Caleb began to move forward, holding his weapon near his thigh. I pulled myself from Braden’s grasp, and we moved forward. The liger prowled around the woman. Seeing us, it lunged forward, landed, and sent out an ear-shattering roar. Caleb did not stop.

 

As we got closer, the liger moved behind the Venz female. She held up a hand and I felt myself halt. I could not move forward anymore; any thoughts from my brain to my legs were vanquished. I tried to force myself to move, but I could not. I breathed heavily.

 

“Stay calm,” Caleb whispered.

 

“We wish to pass without violence,” Braden called. Neither of them seemed to struggle against whatever barrier we were met with. I felt as if something were gripping my limbs, a vice. I squirmed.

 

“Children of Elijah, why do you cross my bridge?”

 

“We wish entry into your nation, to speak with The Grand Mother.” The women considered this, and then laughed a beautiful laugh. Her voice was accented; a sense of depth was in the voice; it was not the voice of a schoolgirl, but one of a woman who could command armies. The voice of a queen.

 

“You cannot call an audience of the Matriarch. You must request an appointment, and that let alone takes months, years.” She paused, slender fingers toiling in the fur of the liger, which kept furious red eyes on us as if we were the best meal it had seen in some time.

 

“This is of a matter of great importance; she would understand,” Braden offered.

 

“Silence, boy. You do not know what is important to The Grand Mother. You have trespassed and you hail from Elijah. You push war on us and in war people must die.” She gripped her scythe, the liger tensed.

 

“We do not wish to fight you.”

 

“The choice is not yours, boy.”

 

Braden grabbed me, pulling me close; I felt his mouth near my ear, “If she attacks us, run along the bridge past her as fast as you can.” I felt his lips upon my hair, a kiss, and he nudged me away. I shivered and began to move toward the edge.

 

She struck. Vanishing from the end of the bridge, she appeared between Braden and Caleb. She shouted, and a blast of force surged outward, sending Braden and Caleb sprawling into the air, slamming against the wiring of the bridge. They crashed into the sand; I sprinted, slipping along the bridge, although the blast threw me against the hard steel. I crumpled, whimpering, but I rose and continued onward, running as fast as I could.

 

I glanced back. Caleb was attacking the woman with his sword; she parried and blocked. Whirling around, Braden pointed his pistol; there was gunfire. Another explosion and the duke was sent flying into the air.

 

I reached the end of the bridge, but I kept going. The sand was hot, and I could feel it. Outcroppings of rock were ahead, and some foliage. I would hide there. I heard a roar, and glanced back; the liger was sprinting towards me, really fast.

 

I saw that Caleb had already made it to the end of the bridge. Braden was running after the liger. The air went still for a moment, then a loud burst occurred, a sonic bomb, a wave of sand exploded outward. I traveled quickly, throwing the liger off balance, until I tripped. The beast was agile; it launched into the air. A pounce, and it landed on top of me. I screamed and squirmed.

 

I saw in the fiery red eyes its hate, the need to bite me, to rend my bones and flesh.

 

“No!” I yelled. The liger roared, spittle sprayed my face, and then it halted, breathing and sniffing at me. It lifted its head to the sky and let out a roar that made my ears buzz. Braden stumbled next to me, firing his the pistol into the air, attempting to force the liger to move. It did not. It roared once more.

 

I wormed my way out from under the beast; it did not pursue. I jumped up. Braden grabbed me. Caleb joined us; he was running at full force, sweat exploding from his brow.

 

“Run, run run…” He urged us.

 

“Where…is …she?” I asked, panting, I vaulted over a rock. I didn’t know that I was that athletic. Maybe when my life was on the line. We all felt our adrenaline pump.

 

“I have her sealed up, but only for a moment.”

 

Our running became a jog as we entered the rock outcroppings; we began to climb over them with no regard to our clothing. We need to get away.

 

Braden thrust his weapon into his pocket and climbed over a large rock.

 

“Why was she there?” I gasped.

 

“No idea, probably to watch the bridge.” Caleb leapt over another rock and began to trot down the other side. I struggled; Braden helped me over.

 

Rock formations as far as the eye could see, random spots of dense foliage, dry, probably due to the weather. Another roar echoed around us.

 

“Let’s hurry.”

 

“To where? We can’t run forever!” My breathing became labored.

 

“We need to get captured,” Caleb said, in a matter-of-fact way. I did not like the sound of it.

 

We reached a stretch of dirt; the next grouping of rock was just ahead. The wind picked up, the dust swirled about us, and the woman came from the sky, ribbons and mantle swirling out around her. She slid along the dirt bringing her weapon to bear; Caleb parried the thrust and darted backward, then struck at her. She deflected it with ease using the blade of her scythe.

 

“Run! Both of you!” the prince yelled.

 

This time I grabbed Braden’s hand and we made a break for it. Caleb went toe-to-toe with her, she shouted something. I felt my bone marrow ache, and I faltered slightly.

 

“Its magic, just keep going!” Braden urged me on. I glanced back to Caleb. He and the woman were exchanging blows, however she made it look effortless. Occasionally, her free hand with flick and create a prism of light. Caleb would flip backwards, using his sword, glittering in the sun. I stopped, turning.

 

“We need to help him.”

 

“No, he is fine; let’s go Jeremy!” Braden urged. I saw the liger stalking in a large circle around Caleb and the woman as they fought, blade against blade.

 

“He cannot keep that up for that long. We need to help. Three against one is better than that… come on.” I wanted to be courageous. I took out my pistol and ran towards the two combatants.

 

Caleb vaulted over the woman, spinning in the air. He let his forefinger travel down his blade as the point was aligned with the woman’s head, sparks exploded as his finger traveled down the blade. They were engulfed in a vortex of fiery light. The blast send me sprawling backward, Braden joined me, grabbing at me. As the smoke settled the woman stood, the air shimmering and rippling about her. Caleb stood, chest heaving in and out.

 

I got up, pointing my pistol at her and shot. The bullet glinted in the humid sunlight, I watched it head for her shoulder. She heard the shot and whirled around, blood spurted into the air.

 

“I got her!” She fell to her knees, her weapon falling to the dirt. She gripped at her shoulder, her face stoic, blood trickled between her fingers. Caleb strode towards her, his weapon outward, defensively. I moved forward, Braden behind me.

 

“Nice shot,” Caleb said, nodding. I beamed. Caleb looked drained and the woman glanced up as we approached. “She can still use her arts, be careful,” Caleb instructed.

 

“You bring your filthy weapons into this nation,” she spat, wincing in pain. The liger silently had made its way over; it rested near the woman, nudging at her back every so often.

 

“You should have let us pass,” Caleb said softly.

 

“Be silent, boy, you would protect your country with your life.” The prince opened his mouth to say something, but shut it.

 

“We should get that bullet out,” I said. I reached forward. She recoiled away. “I’m sorry really…”

 

I felt a hand slap the back of my head; it was Braden. “Don’t be sorry, she was trying to kill us!” I felt the air around us become dense, the temperature rose slightly. I glanced around, unsure. Braden and Caleb also felt it. She woman laughed, smiling.

 

“Finally.”

 

“Shit.” It was Caleb.

 

Above us the air shimmered, rippling like liquid but then peeled away to reveal a mass of crystal and steel, similar to that of the bridge, floating above us. It was gigantic, some sort of craft, the ones they spoke of in the wars of the past. There was a loud droning sound. It hovered several yards above us, bathing the area in a cool shadow. It was at least a mile long.

 

Several streams of light began to scour the area. Lasers of some sort, passing over rock and terrain, finally reaching us. They pinpointed our location, and then, swirling outward, vanished back into the crystal craft. All three of us were in awe, unsure what exactly to do.

 

A loud gong sounded from the floating mass of steel and unknown minerals. The air rippled before us, like heat rising, and four figures appeared.

 

Caleb raised his weapon and I got my gun ready; Braden did the same. Three of the armored things I had seen in the halls within Cathedral strode from nothing but air, their masks striking against the sandy backdrop. Between them, stood Rodef.

 

“Ah,” he said after seeing us. “We have been waiting for you three.” He paused, gesturing to one of the Rifters to see to the woman behind us. “For a very long time,” he finished.

 

“She assaulted us,” Caleb said, sheathing his weapon. Braden put his gun away. As did I.

 

“It is her charge,” Rodef said as the woman limped past. Rodef dipped into a low bow until she vanished into the rippling air.

 

“Why do you not have soldiers near the bridges; are you not frightened?” I asked suddenly.

 

“No, we are not. King David will not march on us, He has lost two great sources of power and influence,” he said, gesturing to Caleb and Braden. “And he does not have you. It is those who influence him against whom we must defend ourselves. Come, my mother awaits you.”

 

He gestured for us to follow, stepping into the rippling air. Caleb first, then I, Braden last.

 

It felt like misty water, one moment the desert, the next in a room fashioned of the crystal, however we were within it. It was a vast room; it was some sort of flight deck. We were above all the rock outcroppings, seeing as far as the horizon and the tower-like shadows in the distance. Rodef sat in a chair that overlooked odd-looking control panels. Most of it was a crystal hovering above some portion of sand, a bald attendant standing near it, dragging his fingers around the surface of the crystal.

 

“We suspect it is far worse than we have initially thought.” Caleb intoned to Rodef. I was far to busy looking at the intricacies of this magical craft.

 

“Indeed, my mother is aware of the circumstances and will speak to you three soon enough.”

 

“We must retake the crown, before anything else.” Braden’s voice forced me to turn and acknowledge them.

 

“They say that we must help you do this… and we shall.” Rodef smiled, leaning back into his chair.