Exiled (17 page)

He rounded the bend, grateful that it wasn’t a sharp corner. The tunnel began to widen ever so slightly until James was finally able to return his elbows closer to his body and move along at a much faster pace. He also noticed the walls were wet as they shimmered in the torchlight. The sound of the flowing water was much louder and he thought he could hear Kilani calling out to him.

“I think I’m almost there,” he replied.

The tunnel widened again, and he was able to crouch. Beneath his feet, James felt moisture for the first time. He could feel each step become less secure, like the algae-covered rocks on shore at low tide. As he placed his foot and shifted his weight, James’s legs slipped out from under him, sending him to his back. As he attempted to reorient himself, he realized he was sliding downward on the slime-covered floor at great speed. He tried to gain purchase with his feet and hands but was unsuccessful. The flame of the torch rippled as the wind blew past. The sound of water grew louder still and for the first time, James could make out what Kilani was saying.

“Mind the rocks at the bottom,” she shouted from somewhere below.

James began to panic as the speed of his descent began to exceed the strength of his light. He tried to sit up but the shifting of his weight only sent him rolling onto his stomach. Before another thought could run through his mind, he felt the impact tear through his feet to his heels and up his legs. He bent his knees in hopes of absorbing some of the inertia. His body crumpled and his torch went dark as he let out a pain-stricken cry.

Minutes, hours, days. James had no idea how long he was unconscious. He thought he may be dead as a dim glow moved in his direction. The pain quickly reminded him that he was indeed alive. The glow brightened and drew nigh. James could make out a shape beside it. He tried to remember what happened, where he was, but he could only focus on the approaching light and the figure beside it. Finally, his mind began to recall what had happened. At the same time, a figure came into view. It was blurry yet familiar. As it moved closer, James realized who it was. Akil Karanis was standing before him. Akil smiled, nodded, and said, “Get to the castle.”

James was about to reply when his vision went blurry again. He squeezed his eyes closed. When he opened them, Kilani was standing in front of him. She wore a smirk that gave James a sense of relief. Perhaps his injuries weren’t as bad as he thought. He tried to move his legs as she crouched over him. Pain shot through his hips and up his back. He let out a cry.

“Stop trying to move, you bloody idiot,” she said, inspecting his body. “I told you to mind the rocks at the bottom.”

“And how was I supposed to mind anything? That was like a bloody sheet of ice. How did you escape injury?”

“I know how to land,” she replied.

Kilani reached her hands under James’s arms and placed her palms against his ribs. Once again, James felt the warmth and energy travel between them. His mind went immediately calm, and the pain and despair that had gripped him a moment ago was gone. He looked into her eyes and she into his, and he longed for her. To touch his lips to hers. To feel her breath against his skin. The need was overwhelming. He reached for her, but she quickly pulled away. Their eyes met again, and she was smiling. It was then that James realized he was standing. The pain in his legs and back were gone. He could move again. He had no idea how it had happened and before he could ask, Kilani was on the move.

“Come,” Kilani said, handing James his re-lit torch and heading off in the direction she had approached. James followed, forgetting about his vision of Akil as he did.

The sound of flowing water grew as they moved down the tunnel until it reached a seemingly deafening volume. James thought he detected a faint glow ahead. Kilani stopped and looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. A deluge of water spilled across the passageway in front of them.
We must be behind a massive waterfall
, James thought. He stepped closer, looking for a way around in the torchlight. The water fell up against the passage on all sides limiting the exit to either turning around or stepping through the powerful stream of water. Because they couldn’t see the bottom of the falls, James wasn’t comfortable with blindly stepping into the stream. It could be hundreds of feet to the bottom.

Kilani extended her hand into the stream of water, expecting the force to push it down. She was surprised to feel little resistance. Carefully, she leaned forward and let the water run into her mouth. Neither of them had drank since early that morning and she could immediately feel the energy rushing back into her body. When she had her fill, she stood upright and motioned to James to drink. He drank greedily from the falls once he also realized the pressure of the water was not a concern. His dark hair, only a fraction shorter than Kilani’s, was plastered to his head as he pulled himself back into the tunnel.

“Take my arm,” she said, extending it to James.

Without question, James grasped her forearm, just above her wrist. He was confident his reenergized strength would find no difficulty in holding her. Kilani handed James her torch and leaned into the stream of water. James held her by the arm as her head disappeared. Almost immediately, she straightened, a smile on her face.

“It’s okay,” she shouted over the noise. “Take a big step and you’ll be fine.”

“What about the torches?” James asked.

“There is light on the other side,” she replied.

Before he could respond, she released his arm and stepped through the water. James followed quickly, carefully laying the torches on the tunnel floor before stepping through. He immediately found his footing as he passed beneath the falls. The deafening noise ceased the instant he crossed to the other side. He looked up. The light source appeared to be the water itself for all around the perimeter of the cavern a soft white light emitted from it.

Every wall in the circular cavern was draped in a curtain of water that spilled over a ledge that also encompassed the cavern. It was absolutely silent. In the center stood a rock structure James immediately recognized. It was identical to the structure they’d found on the first widow. Careful not to touch it, James and Kilani circled the stone spire. Rather than one column of unidentifiable markings, this had two, each on opposite sides. The top of the stone tower stretched to such a height, the light from the flowing water could not reach.

James tried to consider how much time they had spent inside. He wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew they must find a way out quickly or their friends would be stranded on the first widow. He looked back to where they entered the cavern and realized he wasn’t certain where that was.

“Do you remember where we entered?” he asked, looking at Kilani. She jumped at the sound of his voice, which was loud in the silent room.

“Of course, it was right over—” she too stopped to consider. “We stepped in and made our way to the center where the tower stands. The side we approached the tower had no markings, which limits it to one of two sides.”

As she said this she moved around the circular spire looking for some indication of where they had entered. “It’s only been a few minutes, we should be able to follow the water that dripped from our—” she reached down and felt her clothes then her hair both of which, to her surprise, were completely dry. “Either way, we entered in that direction,” she said pointing behind James. “Or that direction,” She said, pointing past the tower to the opposite side of the room. “I’ll check one. You check the other.”

James nodded and moved off in the opposite direction. The logic of this approach was sound, but it left much room for error, which made James uncomfortable. He began to circle the stone spire, but he stopped exactly halfway between the two columns of writing and began moving toward the curtain of water opposite his position. He looked over his shoulder repeatedly to confirm he was maintaining the proper heading. When he reached the water, he marveled at its beauty as it shimmered in its own luminescence.

Cautiously, he extended his hand into the water. His fingers contacted the wall behind before his entire hand was through the stream. He placed his hand flat against it and began walking, letting his fingers feel in hopes of finding an opening. James looked across the cavern to see if he could spot Kilani. The tower between them obstructed his view.

“Did you find it?” he called, knowing despite the size of the cavern, sound traveled well.

No reply. James kept moving along the circular wall, his hand feeling for an opening. He called out again, this time much louder. No reply. James was about to break away from the wall and go looking for Kilani when he felt the beginning of a depression in the stone behind the curtain of water. He slid his hand along the depression until his entire arm was engulfed. The opening they had come through was a clean-cut entry into the cavern. This was more of a gradual tapering away from the water curtain.

He looked around for anything he could use to mark the depression. Neither displaced stone nor wayward debris littered the cavern floor. Allowing his concern for Kilani to override his desire to mark the possible exit, he pulled his hand from the wall and headed across the cavern. As he approached the stone tower the strange glyphs etched into the black granite reminded him once again of the black metal key, and he reached for it in his satchel.

James had an overwhelming desire to touch the spire, which looked strangely familiar. His mind lost all focus. His arm lifted and reached his hand toward it, guided by not his body but the tower itself. James could feel an energy radiating from the stone as he drew nearer. His hand pressed this energy. Like an invisible membrane, it gave but did not break. James pushed harder until he penetrated the membrane. As he moved his hand through, James could feel the barrier wrapping his wrist. As his arm stretched closer to the spire, the invisible barrier moved up his forearm like a sleeve.

Deep inside his mind a futile cry attempted to prevent contact, reminding James of Luno’s instructions. The draw of the tower was too strong. James’s fingers barley contacted the stone when a massive surge of energy pulled him forward until his palm lay flat against it. His vision went white. James could feel his mind with more clarity than ever before. He could feel it connecting with his body. He could feel it connecting with his surroundings, and he could feel it connecting with the tower. Then everything went black.

Kilani watched James step toward the tower and stare at the inscriptions. By chance or fate or the will of The Never, she had decided to see if he had discovered the exit, having had no luck herself. They must have passed each other on opposite sides of the tower. When she doubled back, he was there. The instant his hand lifted toward the spire, she began to panic. She shouted his name as he ran toward him. As she reached him she could hear muttering. Some of the words sounded familiar, but most she’d never heard before. She shouted again and reached out to him. A force stopped her from touching him. A barrier just inches from his body. She shouted his name again. He did not reply but continued to mutter in the strange language.

His eyelids fluttered but remained closed. His lips moved impossibly fast but otherwise his body remained still. He wore an expression not of fear but almost . . . pleasure. Kilani tried to step between James’s body and the tower, but the same invisible barrier that surrounded his body extended outward to the tower preventing her. She pulled her dagger from its sheath and drove it into the barrier. The blade snapped and a jolt of pain shot up her arm and down her spine, sending her to the ground. Slowly, she got to her feet. She looked around for anything she could use to break him free. There was nothing. She cursed the place. Her magical powers were limited here unlike back home where she could think of at least a dozen incantations that would break the barrier.

Growing increasingly frustrated, Kilani decided to try the only thing she could think of. She ran to the curtain of water and said, “
Poikelo
.”

A gust of wind rushed from her hands and blew through the curtain of water, refracting off the wall as it carried the water with it speeding toward the tower and James.

The force of the impact was incredible. At first, Kilani feared she had crushed him. She ran back to the center of the cavern as the water settled on the floor. As she drew closer, her heart sunk. He still stood in the same position and was looking the same direction, yet something was different. His hand was at his side. Not only that, but he was dripping wet. She ran, bare feet slapping against the wet stone. He turned to her as she approached.

“Do I smell that bad?” he asked.

“Like rubbish,” she said with a smile, taking him in her arms.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“It spoke to me,” he said.

“What did, the tower?” Kilani asked.

“The castle,” James replied.

“How?”

“The towers and the castle are one,” said James.

“What did it say?”

“Everything.”

Shadows fell on the expansive flatlands in front of the castle. Dug into the largest of the mountains, the castle had a clear view of the valley. It was a stronghold in its day. A great battle had laid waste to the outer bailey wall leaving sections of the battlements in crumbles on the ground. Most of the towers between battlements remained standing, giving James a clear view of any approaching visitors.

Incantations had been cast upon the entire valley. They were far more complex than anything even his mother could comprehend. When he’d asked who had created this place, she’d ignored his question. They had been here once before when he was much younger, but he remembered very little of his previous visit.

The sun ignited the peaks in a blaze of orange light as it descended behind the mountains. James could see their horses grazing beside the stable in the distance. Incantations prohibited anyone to transport or even approach on horseback; on foot was the only way one could get close. The hills stretched around the valley like an incomplete wreath with one section at the far end open to allow passage. The long shadows from the hills made it difficult to see anything at their bases at sunset, which despite the enchantments worried his mother.

The wind was strong as it blew across the tower but it was not the biting air that would be coming down from the north in the next few weeks. James wrapped twine around one end of a piece of black cloth and fastened it to a rotting pole he had found in the stable. He propped up the pole with several stones he found strewn about the top of the tower. His makeshift flag flapped loudly in the wind as he descended the stone spiral stairs.

James crossed the outer bailey, careful to avoid the rubble of the spilled walls behind him. He crossed under the arched second portcullis, imagining what the battle had been like. A glint of metal caught his eye on the ground.

A silver handle stretched up to a flat-bladed axe. James found it difficult to pry the axe out of the ground and, not surprisingly, was unsuccessful at raising it with magic. Eventually he was able to dig out the handle with the knife he always carried on his belt.

The axe was almost too heavy for James to lift. His determination was steadfast, and he managed to crouch under the handle and lift it with his legs. He couldn’t imagine a man swinging a weapon like this very effectively during a battle. He lumbered his way inside the keep, carrying the oversize weapon on his shoulder. The light from the fire in the hall’s fireplace danced across the stone floors. Several large wooden tables, which were in surprisingly good repair, stood inside the hall. James dropped the axe on one of the tables with a bang, half expecting the table to collapse under the weight.

“Mother?”

His voice echoed in the hall. Their belongings were laid out on the table closest to the fireplace. She had managed to gather several large piles of firewood while he was off wandering the castle. A metal pot was slung over the lug pole and the liquid inside was just beginning to steam. James felt guilty that she had done so much without his help. He knew he took advantage of her guilt. He knew she felt that his struggle with his father’s death and his insistence in accepting blame cast an unfair burden on him. Unfair for a boy of thirteen. Or any child for that matter.

James wondered if his father would be disappointed in him for making his mother get them settled in by herself. He was tired of running from place to place. Tired of not having any friends and tired of not having any freedom. He thought exploring while his mother set up their beds was a small price to pay for this burden he’d been born with. A small part of him knew he was wrong. She was his mother and she was just as alone as he was. Knowing all this, sometimes he simply needed to escape, to do anything that had nothing to do with the damned prophecy. He just wanted to be a kid—even though that age had passed years ago. He was a man now, a man without a father, which meant it was up to him to take care of his mother, not up to her to take care of him. Things would change. He would change.

He called out her name again and again. She did not reply. He assumed she’d gone looking for their next meal. Precisely what he should have been doing instead of wandering about. He heard the roll of thunder outside that always preceded a late summer storm in the highlands. Lightning flashes lit the cracks in the large wooden door at the entrance to the great hall. As the rain fell, James began to worry. Between the lightning and the firelight his eyes were having difficulty focusing. He decided he must look for his mother.

James lifted the bolt securing the door and pulled. It groaned on its hinges. The rain outside was coming down in sheets. He couldn’t see past the steps that spilled onto the courtyard. Lightning flashed and for a moment, the courtyard was lit, revealing three black figures huddled under the arch of the second portcullis that he’d passed through earlier. He closed the door behind him so he wasn’t backlit by the fire from inside.

Quickly, James pressed his body against the stone wall of the keep. He waited, knife drawn. Lightning flashed again. They were gone. Could he have imagined them? Rain-soaked and cold, James held his ground and waited for another flash. It came a moment later. Three successive flashes revealed a lone figure in black moving his way across the courtyard toward the door. He knew by the shape that it was not his mother.

Darkness swallowed the person as the lightning stopped. James tried to track where the figure would be based on his speed. He strained his eyes to see. Another flash, this one further off, provided enough light for James to see that the cloaked figure had reached the bottom step. He could hear heavy boots making their way up to the door. The figure lifted the bolt and stepped inside, allowing the firelight to spill out onto the steps. He didn’t turn his head to indicate he knew James was there, just within arm’s reach. The door remained open after the man stepped through. James crouched and slowly moved toward the door.

He stepped inside, knife in hand, low on bent legs, ready to spring at the intruder. The firelight glistened in the puddles the man had left in his wake on the stone floor. James could see the black silhouette standing in front of the fire. Slowly and silently, James made his way around the perimeter of the room where the shadows from stone columns kept the light at bay. He stopped when he reached the wall with the recessed fireplace. He could not make out the man’s face. He watched and waited.

The man appeared to be warming his hands by the fire. He said a word too quiet to hear and a gust of wind swirled around him, rustling his cloak until it was dry. The man lowered his hood. James immediately recognized him from the council temple. It was David Ogilvy—or the man who’d claimed to be David Ogilvy.

The man rubbed his hands together and lifted them to his mouth as if to blow warm air into them.

“Summer draws to an end, I’m afraid,” he said, still looking into the fire. James froze, holding his breath.

“You need not be afraid, James, son of James. I am not thy enemy.”

He turned toward James, lifted his hand, and swept it across the back wall, igniting torches that were mounted by metal brackets.

“There, that’s better,” The man said, smiling. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

“Where is my mother?” James asked, planted in place, knife still at the ready.

“She will be along shortly, I assure you. She is tending to our horses.”

“Our?”

“Surely you remember my wife, Tabitha?”

“David Ogilvy is dead. Lady Tabitha told me so. Who are you?”

“My tale is one that cannot be told while standing with weapons drawn. I will tell you all that I can, as I have told your mother, but you must first trust that no harm will come to you.”

“If you are who you say you are, then you know I cannot,” James replied.

“Your mother has taught you well, young James.”

“It was my father who taught me to trust no one.”

The man’s head hung in despair. After a moment he lifted his gaze again to James’s eyes.

“James, I am sorry about your father. He and I were good friends for our parts. I made him a promise once, and I intend to keep it.”

“And what promise was that? You left him. You left your own wife for over ten years. How do you expect to gain the trust of anyone after being away for all that time? You are a coward who hid in the shadows and now you expect to be welcomed back as if you’d never left? You will find no forgiveness here, traitor.”

“I’ve forgiven him,” Tabitha Ogilvy said, stepping into the great hall.

“We must hear him out, James,” his mother said, following Tabitha through the door and closing it behind them.

James looked into his mother’s eyes and then into the eyes of Tabitha Ogilvy. James took a deep breath and sheathed his blade.

“Very well, let us hear your tale Mr. Ogilvy.”