Maylin's Gate (Book 3) Page 19

  “What about Catalin?”

  “She was too young to understand.”

  “What did the words say? The ones in the ruin.”

  “I’m not sure you want to know.”

  Heat spread across her cheeks. “I need to know and you need to tell me.”

  “My ancestors wrote the words,” Brees said. “The ones who fled Ayralen.”

  “What did the words say?”

  Brees held her gaze for several long seconds.

  She held her breath afraid to speak.

  “The words are a warning,” Brees said.

  “Against what?”

  “Against experimenting with forces beyond human comprehension.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the three spheres that grant magic to those lucky enough to hold their power,” Brees said.

  “How do the Orbs of Power have anything to do with the writing on the walls?”

  “The orbs were originally built for a specific purpose,” Brees said. “Generations before Elan, Trace, and Lora, a man named Gabriel discovered the power trapped inside the human soul.”

  “I know about Gabriel,” she said. “Ronan told me.”

  “Do you know why he created the orbs?”

  “To harness nature’s power and spread it among humanity. To better the lives of humankind.”

  “If only his reasons were so altruistic. Gabriel meant to harness the orbs’ combined power to build a gateway.”

  She recalled the mural depicting the gateway and the heartwood trees. “What sort of gate?”

  “Gabriel believed he could travel to worlds beyond this one. He wanted to harness the orbs’ power to create a doorway to another place.”

  “Did he succeed?”

  “He did.” Brees’s jaw tightened. “With disastrous results.”

  “What happened?”

  “Creatures came through the gateway. Creatures who enslaved both humans and the baerinese. Did you see the paintings in the ruins?”

  She recalled the image of the demon-like creature towering over the man in bondage. “That painting wasn’t real.”

  “It's real Danielle.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The words inscribed on the wall,” Brees said.

  An ember of doubt crept into her thoughts. She outlined an invisible pattern on the tabletop with her index finger. “What did they want?”

  Silence hung in the holding cell for a long moment before Brees spoke. “Harvest.”

  Her skin crawled and she licked the dryness from her lips. “Harvest? I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “The ickaret, that’s what they’re called. The ickaret would breed us and consume us like cattle. They dragged us to their world then butchered and cooked us.”

  Her stomach churned and a wave of dizziness swept through her head. “Enough.”

  “I’m sorry Danielle. You wanted to know.”

  “How could you possibly know all this?”

  “I told you. I can read the words. The entire history is written on those walls.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Sir Alcott?”

  “Because, I didn’t know if it was true myself until I came back to Obsith.” Brees’s gaze fell to the tabletop. “Now, I’ve no doubt.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve had the story corroborated.”

  “From those…people?”

  “They’re good people, Danielle.”

  “Who are they?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t tell me?” She barked out a short bitter laugh. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that?”

  Brees sighed. “We’re people interested in earth’s preservation.”

  It was we now? A knot formed in her chest. “How utterly vague of you.”

  “Danielle, I —”

  “I’ve seen that symbol before. The symbol on the altar I mean.”

  Brees’s head jerked up. “Where?”

  “You should’ve stayed with Sir Alcott,” she said. “He opened another room in the ruins. The last room.”

  Sweat glistened on Brees’s forehead. “You shouldn’t take this any further.”

  “I saw it on the wall. A mural depicting a gateway. A black triangle with sockets at each point. Sockets filled with the Orbs of Power.”

  “Then you know,” Brees said.

  She leaned forward hovering inches from Brees’s face. “I saw them Brees. I saw the heartwood trees on the other side.”

  Brees jerked backward as if slapped.

  A surge of triumph roared through her. “Your…cult wants to keep them from the world. From Ayralen.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Brees said.

  “How can you sit there and presume to have all the answers? Your emperor is a power-hungry zealot and you’ve drunk in his lies. The trees are a threat to his power. Aren’t they? They’re a threat to you and every other charlatan living on this god-forsaken pile of sand.”

  “No.” Brees slammed a clenched fist against the tabletop. “The trees are poison. They’ve always been.”

  Her jaw fell open and she slipped backward into her chair.

  “Lora never should’ve brought them to this world,” Brees said.

  “How can you say that?”

  “I didn’t know until a few days ago. The Brotherhood has opened my eyes.”

  “Is that the name of your cult?” she said. “I feel sorry for you. They’ve spoon fed you lies. The heartwood saved your life and it could save millions more.”

  “The heartwood trees produce a drug that Ayralens have grown dependent on. They’ll die without it,” Brees said. “Why do you think Trace fled the Heartwood all those centuries ago?”

  “For more power,” she said. “Have you forgotten what your vaunted emperor did to me? What he did to the dragons?” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “The Brotherhood doesn’t support Trace. We oppose him.”

  “You just said —”

  “He’s not always been this way. Trace founded the Brotherhood. For centuries, the organization worked in secret. They kept the knowledge of Maylin’s Gate hidden.”

  “What is Maylin’s Gate?”

  “Maylin is the name of the world beyond this one. The gate is the means Gabriel invented to travel there.”

  “How has Trace changed?”

  “He changed in little ways at first, but then he started talking about building the gate.”

  “Why?”

  “It happened after the barrier fell. Trace said the Brotherhood should build the gate before someone else did.”

  “But, he couldn’t do that without the missing pieces?”

  Brees nodded.

  “What about the bracers that support the gate? Doesn’t he need those to complete the structure?”

  Brees frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “We found a piece of the portal in the ruins.”

  Brees’s face turned ashen. “The third leg.”

  “If that’s what it’s called, then yes.”

  “It’s as sought after as the orbs themselves,” Brees said. “Trace believed he could build the missing piece. Others inside the Brotherhood doubted him.”

  “Why aren’t the people in Zen getting sick?” she said.

  “I don’t know. Neither does the Brotherhood.”

  “I think it’s because the last heartwood tree is somewhere in Zen.”

  “That’s not it. The Brotherhood would now.”

  She let go a short bitter laugh. “Maybe your Brotherhood doesn’t know everything? Did you ever think of that?”

  Brees stared ahead stone-faced.

  “You are a plague carrier,” she said. “By all rights, you should be dead. That you’re not is a miracle provided by the heartwood you so hate.”

  “I don’t hate the trees,” Brees said.

  “Zen should look like Mara, but it doesn’t. Why?”

  “I wish I knew. I’m hopeful you’ll help find the answer
. Once you’re back in Meranthia.”

  “I’ve already told you why.” Her face flushed. “There’s a heartwood tree growing inside Zen. It's infusing your food and water with the antidote. That's the entire reason I came here.”

  “If that’s true, the Brotherhood will kill it,” Brees said.

  “Then you and they are my enemies.”

  Pain filled Brees’s eyes. “It doesn’t have to be this way. You can find an antidote. A real one.”

  “Does Keely know I’m here?”

  Brees leaned back in the crystal chair. “Not yet. You can tell her yourself when you leave. She’s staying in the palace as an honored guest.”

  “Leave?”

  “The Brotherhood won’t let you stay in Zen.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Then I can’t let you go.”

  “I’ll escape.”

  “I don’t doubt you could,” Brees said. “But, if you do, I can no longer protect you.”

  “I want to see Keely.”

  “I can’t do that,” Brees said. “Not until you’ve given your word that you’ll leave Obsith.”

  “Why won’t you let me see Keely?”

  Brees stood and gazed on her through wary eyes. “Our sides have fought long enough, haven’t they? If word reaches Meranthia that we’ve locked up the royal princess, how do you think that will play out?”

  “Then let me go,” she said.

  “You’ll leave Obsith?”

  She could lie and continue her search, but Brees would never trust her again. She might need his help. “I can’t.”

  Brees nodded. “I’ll check back later.” The shaman paused at the electric curtain.

  The humming field of electricity parted and the outer door opened. A robed figure appeared and handed Brees a tray filled with food.

  Brees took the tray and returned to the cell’s stone table. “Eat. The food’s excellent.” The shaman’s eyes pleaded with her to relent, but she stared at the tray without speaking.

  Brees left the room.

  The electric field and its accompanying buzz returned.

  She stared into the steaming food piled atop the ornate crystal tray. Why would Brees believe anything that came from a cult founded by Trace? Lora wouldn’t build Ayralen on a bed of lies. Besides, she understood the trees. She felt their purity with her own mind. Brees’s story felt wrong. If opening this ancient portal meant finding the heartwood, she’d do it. But, she needed Trace's orb of power and where better to start than Trace’s personal quarters?

  The rich scent of exotic spices drifted from a dish of potatoes mixed with lamb and carrots.

  Beside the potato dish, sat a familiar treat. A generous slice of the yellow fruit Keely had discovered at the oasis. The chef served the fruit open-faced revealing a juicy pink center.

  She inhaled the delicious blend of sweet and sour. She took the fruit and split it apart. A wry grin slid across her face.

  Nestled in the pink pulp, drowning in succulent juices, sat a single black seed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Swamp

  Stumps of gnarled cypress trees jutted from stagnant water.

  Ronan sloshed ahead past a chest-high stump. Buzzing filled his ear followed by a sharp sting on his neck. He cursed under his breath and slapped away the bug. They should've arrived at the Tree of Life by now.

  Thin branches bearing needle-like leaves brushed his leg. The leaves scraped his skin while the scent of rotting vegetation clung to the moist air.

  He mopped the sweat from his brow and pulled his soaked tunic away from his skin. If he could feel dry for five minutes it would do wonders for his mental health. "Bloody, bloody swamp."

  General Demos turned to face him. "Relax, it can't be much further."

  "We've been at this for two days. We should've arrived at the tree by now." He squinted toward the southern tree line and shielded his eyes from the sun. "I think we've taken a wrong turn." He pointed to his left. "We should head west toward that grove past the lake."

  General Demos peered southward. "We should continue south. I'm sure of it."

  He turned toward General Demos and froze.

  A snake as thick as his arm slithered down the cypress beside General Demos. Red, black, and white bands circled its body. The snake's eyes locked on General Demos while its forked tongue flickered.

  He eased his hand over his shoulder and found the longbow strapped to his shoulder. He slipped the bow free and fumbled for an arrow in his quiver. "Don't move." His words carried an edge of menace.

  General Demos's body went rigid still staring toward the southern tree line.

  He knocked the arrow and drew the bow. The string groaned and he peered down the arrow's barrel sighting the snake's head.

  A low hiss rumbled from General Demos's chest.

  The snake moved to strike and General Demos whirled with blade in hand.

  He released the arrow and General Demos jumped.

  With a thunk, the arrow pinned the snake's head to the tree trunk. The snake spasmed and its six-foot body hung lifeless from the arrow shaft.

  General Demos spun and came face to face with the snake swinging from the arrow shaft. The general's shoulders relaxed and the hissing faded.

  He glanced at the blade in General Demos's hand. "Did you think I meant this arrow for you?"

  An expression of guilt crossed the general's face. "I reacted. I meant nothing by the action."

  He slipped the bow over his shoulder and sloshed ahead stopping beside the dead snake. "That's an even twelve. If we'd kept them all, their hides would fetch a fair bit of gold back home."

  General Demos sheathed the blade. "Thank you human. I meant no offense."

  He shrugged. "I understand. If you pointed a longbow at me, I'd feel the same way."

  General Demos nodded.

  "We should go west." He sloshed through ankle-deep water setting a course for a far-off grove of trees.

  General Demos hung back still looking southward. "Human, why do you insist on traveling in circles?"

  He moved past a pair of knobby cypress trees. "I'm right on this. You'll thank me later."

  "Perhaps, I'll wait here, and when you return in an hour, I'll express my gratitude."

  Sloshing forward, he glanced over his shoulder.

  A dozen yards behind, General Demos leaned against the cypress tree. "Do they teach you that sarcasm in Baerin? You're a real comedian. You know that?"

  Beneath his feet, the earth groaned and a sharp crack split the air. The drone of rushing water followed and a gaping hole opened.

  He gasped and his head jerked downward. The sickening sensation of falling clawed at his gut, and he slipped.

  The air around him rustled, and a hand with a steel grip locked around his arm yanking him backward.

  He and General Demos landed with a splash ten-feet from the sinkhole. Water surged around them rushing toward the opening.

  The water swept both men forward toward the water pouring into the sinkhole.

  He clung to General Demos's arm and kicked in a futile attempt to swim away from the unfolding disaster. "Grab the tree"

  General Demos's fingertips gripped the knobby tip of a cypress six feet from the sinkhole.

  A sharp cracking sound came from the cypress and it groaned in protest.

  General Demos grunted and pulled.

  He clung to the general's arm and glanced over his shoulder.

  White water rushed over the sinkhole in a ten-foot circle expanding by the second.

  The general gained six-feet against the surging tide placing them a dozen feet from the drop off.

  The cypress tipped sideways and its roots appeared above the surface.

  "It's giving way," he screamed above the roaring waterfall.

  A loud hiss came from General Demos's chest. The general stood and took two steps forward fighting the raging current head-on.

  Like an unwavering oak, the general refused to give
ground to nature's brutal power.

  His mouth hung open and he clung to the general's arm. White water boiled around the general's legs like a boulder caught in a raging rapid. How in Elan's good name was the man still standing?

  General Demos lurched forward and a gurgling sound came from the sinkhole.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  The sinkhole had disappeared replaced by swirling water. Bubbles of air shifted on the surface while the sucking current around them eased.

  He loosened his grip on General Demos's arm and stood. He glanced southward toward the tree line and back to General Demos. "I think we should head south."

  General Demos grinned and nodded. "Let's go."

  He set a southward course and plodded ahead.

  The pair walked through ankle-deep water and past cypress and black gum trees. A few minutes stretched to thirty and the approaching tree line grew closer.

  How could a man like General Demos invade his country and take his people hostage? The general had proved both brave and noble during their travels. Under different circumstances, he would've considered General Demos a friend.

  The rhythmic sound of sloshing water filled the silence. Silence thickened by unspoken words.

  "Why?" he said.

  Five paces ahead General Demos paused. Without turning he spoke. "We thought...." The general's head shook. "No that's not right. I thought humans a savage race incapable of reason or compassion. Our history taught us so. She taught us so." General Demos turned to face him.

  "I'm a man of reason," he said.

  "But, could you convince the others? Humans forced us from your shores once before."

  Could he? For centuries Meranthians despised their Ayralen neighbors. Their human neighbors. "I don't know."

  General Demos nodded. "We can't change anything standing here."

  "You're right," he said. "Let's keep moving." He plodded ahead toward the looming tree line.

  Thirty minutes later the two found themselves at the edge of a thick grove. Dry earth and gnarled roots carpeted the forest floor. The shrill chatter of birds and insects filled the silence. The high-pitched shriek of an animal he'd never heard came from the treetops.

  He glanced at the canopy searching for the strange animal.

  "Monkeys," General Demos said as if reading his mind. "We had them in Baerin."

  Thoth had mentioned strange monkeys. "What sort of creature are they?"