Revelation (19 page)

“Lorik is correct.” Braden injected as he brushed the dirt from his garments. “These who follow the usurper might be under his dominion, but they are certainly not without ambition. There is a continual struggle to overthrow the emperor and gain the most prominent seat in all of Celedon. However, no one has the power to withstand the usurper, let alone challenge him… not without the aid of the Book of Aleth.”

“Then why don’t they use it, if it contains such power?” Aaron questioned.

“I’m not a lore-master,” Braden said, frustrated. “It is said that great magic protects the book, so that no one can draw from its pages the mysteries that lie hidden there. No one, that is, except the one for whom it waits.”

Aaron gave up asking questions when he noticed a large, cloud-like form far to the north drifting across the Waste, moving south over the terrain and directly toward their small band. The other two also saw the cloud moving steadily toward them, and they knew that their escape had been discovered. To the south Aaron could see a slight winding ribbon set upon the landscape—the Dead River. It flowed far ahead of them, perhaps another five miles away.

“Captain!” Braden’s voice was desperate. “Captain, what do we do?”

“We run!” Aaron took off through the Waste, avoiding bogs and leaping over small streams. Up and down gullies and ditches, Aaron kept a steady, swift pace with Lorik and Braden close behind. The mist, thick and grey, continued to move toward them, steadily gaining ground. Nothing seemed to hinder the ancient magic that loomed behind the companions; not even the breeze blowing from the south affected the ever-approaching cloud.

After an hour of sheer determination, Lorik collapsed to the ground, unable to keep pace. Aaron stopped, hearing his friend fall, and rushed to help him up. Braden ran up from behind to support the sergeant and get him to his feet.

“I can’t keep up, Captain.” Panting, Lorik spoke his despair.

“Rest for a moment,” Aaron reached into the bag and retrieved the water pouch, giving it to the sergeant and Braden. Behind them, but much closer than before, the cloud of death continued to drift toward them, no more than ten miles away, and still moving.

“We can’t stop long, Captain!” protested Braden. “That cloud will not rest or grow tired from their travels. We must get out of the Waste before we become permanent residents.”

Aaron agreed, but still waited for Lorik to regain his strength. Much closer than before, the ribbon of the Dead River stood as an impassible barrier to their escape. Aaron didn’t know what or how they would cross the river when they arrived, but hoped a solution would present itself before it was too late.

Lorik tired as he was, struggled to his feet and drank again from the container of water. Heaving a sigh, he lunged ahead and began running again toward the southern border of the Waste. Braden and Aaron followed quickly through the marshy landscape.

They had traveled downhill for miles after they had left the castle on the hill. Now, however, the ground leveled off and showed more signs of vegetation. Brown, spindly branches reached from stunted trees and brush to block their passage as they tried desperately to keep ahead of the cloud. Exhausted from the frantic attempt to leave the badlands, Aaron forced his legs to move, fighting against the burning pain of his tired limbs. Behind him the ghost cloud still drifted against the currents of air, coming closer—perhaps only two or three miles away. It was large, menacing and from a distance Aaron could see the distinctive shapes of ghostly figures drifting in and out of it.

Ahead the river disappeared from sight, hidden in the brambles and brush that blocked all but their immediate view. Heavy thorns and briars clutched Aaron’s garments, biting exposed skin and leaving his hands and legs burning from welts with each stinging scratch. Blood trickled down his arms and legs from the many razor-like thorns that were able to penetrate his outer garments.

“Too bad I didn’t get my sword,” Aaron said as he pushed through the brambles. “I’d hack my way through this nightmare.”

“I would just as soon have a torch and burn this confounded patch to the ground!” Braden muttered.

Lorik, ahead, still trudged forward with sheer will-power. He pressed on; following what appeared to be an overgrown path leading through the brush.

Aaron followed close behind and was inspired by Lorik’s determination to press harder in an effort to maintain their speed, desperate to stay ahead of their pursuers, now close at hand. Once, Aaron looked back, and could faintly see a thin line of grey clouds drifting above the overgrown terrain, no more than a mile distant. High overhead the sun was beginning to make its descent to twilight, the day almost completely spent. Faint rays of golden-orange danced across the sky, the precursor to a glorious sunset.

In a rush of motion and the sound of rocks tumbling against each other, Lorik disappeared! Aaron and Braden heard a splash of water and rushed ahead to find their fallen companion. They almost fell in as well when they came to a low ledge, hanging over a massive river that slowly meandered through the region. Ten feet below, hanging onto a mangled log wedged against the bank of the river was Lorik, tugged at by the currents that swirled around his body. Completely drenched and dazed from the fall, Lorik was disoriented and confused, as his eyes began to glaze over and flutter. Braden quickly climbed down the ledge, making his way to the log where Lorik clung, and reached for his fallen friend.

Aaron, meanwhile, searched the overgrown path they walked for any branch or vine he could use to pull his companions to safety. He found a dead sapling and pushed against it until it snapped at its base, leaving him a twelve-foot pole to help his trapped friends. Looking over the ledge, he saw that Braden was able to dislodge the sergeant and haul him to the bank of the river. Lorik was almost unconscious and barely able to move.

“Braden!” Aaron shouted. “Braden, grab the end of this!” Aaron lowered down the long pole which easily reached Braden who stood only ten feet below.

“Captain,” the dwarf called, “I need your help. Lorik’s hurt!”

Aaron clambered down the cliff’s edge, careful not to slip on the shale-like rock. He stopped where Braden had hauled the sergeant out of the water. By that time, Lorik was completely unconscious. The sergeant’s skin was ashen-pale and cold and clammy to the touch. His eyes were open, staring blankly ahead, unmoving. One good sign, thought Aaron, was that Lorik still breathed, though shallow and unsteady. Apart from a few more scratches, and being completely soaked, Lorik appeared to have suffered no other injury from his fall.

“He must have swallowed some of this poisonous water,” Braden said as he looked out over the brown, murky river that drifted past them. “Hand me the bag.”

Aaron handed the satchel to Braden and took his sergeant in his arms, hauling him onto his shoulders. Laboriously he climbed up the rugged ledge, hands and arms gashed and pierced by the sharp shale that continued to shift under his weight. Fortunately the ledge was low, and Aaron was able to reach the top and carefully set Lorik down on the dry ground. Right behind him, Braden scrambled up the face of the ledge, sending a cascade of rock and debris into the swirling river below.

Lorik’s breathing was shallow and rapid. His body shivered as a fever set in. Aaron looked to Braden, his eyes clear and determined. “What about those leaves? If they healed you, they might be able to do something to stop the poisonous water that Lorik ingested.” He looked back and watched as behind them, less than a mile away, the cloud of phantoms continued to drift closer and closer, their ominous presence a constant reminder of the danger they were trying to escape.

Braden quickly reached into the satchel and pulled out two folded leaves. They were dry and crisp but held their deep color. He rubbed and crushed the large, broad foliage of the Terapan tree into the palm of his thick hands, creating a powder from the leaf. Mixing it with some water from the flask, he dripped the concoction into Lorik’s mouth.

The two watched the sergeant, as slowly, but clearly his color improved from the ashen-grey to a healthy tan. The fever that struck him broke almost immediately and his shivering stopped. Lorik’s breathing improved so that he sounded like a man in a deep sleep. Carefully Aaron nudged his sergeant, trying to rouse him. Behind them, the cloud crept closer.

Lorik’s eyes fluttered as he slowly regained consciousness. He tried to sit up, struggling to prop himself with his hands against the stony ground. “What… what happened?” he asked.

“You fell in the river!” Braden exclaimed.

Gasping as if he had just run a marathon, Lorik tried to compose his thoughts. “I dreamt that I was imprisoned, chained with iron in some stone dungeon.” He paused as he thought about what he saw. “There was a stranger there, someone I didn’t know, and he was laughing at me, mocking my imprisonment. Then, all of a sudden, a light burst into the room from all around, filling my vision and I could hear the strange figure screaming in pain and anger. Then, the next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground being wakened by the two of you.”

“Fortunately for you,” said Aaron, “we still had the leaves from the Terapan tree. We just about lost you.”

Lorik gained more strength as he waited, stood and stretched his sore muscles. “What do we do now, Captain?”

Aaron looked out over the river that drifted below them. The brown, cloudy water, poisonous to the taste, casually flowed westward, through the filth of the Waste. Eventually it would turn south and join with the Hoppe River, making its way to the great Inland Sea. “We need to get across this river.” He said as he looked up at the cloud. “We have very little time before that cloud descends upon us and we are taken captive again. Sergeant, how are you?”

Lorik was amazed at the strength that he felt in his body, “Captain, I feel as strong as ever. That medicine of Braden’s is rather effective.”

“Good!” exclaimed Aaron. “I need you and Braden to gather some braches that we can strap together as a raft. I want us to be on the river in ten minutes.” Lorik, Braden and Aaron all climbed down the shale, back to the edge of the river. As quickly as they could, they searched out large branches and small, fallen trees.

In desperation, all of them dangerously rushed along the edge of the river when Lorik shouted out, “Captain!”

Fearing he had fallen in again, Aaron rushed to the sergeant’s location, followed by Braden. Lorik stood straddling a log, looking as if he had just conquered a giant. When Braden and Aaron approached, Lorik stepped aside, revealing a small, abandoned raft. It was nestled in some thick brush, tangled over and stuck.

“Hurry!” shouted Lorik as he pointed up in the sky. Overhead, the cloud that pursued them was near at hand, less than two hundred yards away. Braden and Aaron rushed to help free the abandoned craft, pulling at the tangled branches that webbed in their hope of freedom. The raft was a collection of logs strapped together with leather cords, and looked as if it had been abandoned for a long time.

They dislodged the craft, and with great effort hauled the raft to the edge of the river. Just then, the silent cloud crested the ledge and began descending down into the river channel. Aaron rushed both Braden and Lorik onto their getaway and stood on the shore, shoving against the weight of the raft. Once in the water, their small craft was caught in the current and Aaron lunged to jump onboard, just making it before the cloud enveloped them.

All around them, the misty shapes of people long deceased swirled in the fog that engulfed them. The raft, however, drifted undeterred as the currents of the Dead River carried it westward. Aaron and Braden could feel the effects as the cloud began to take hold of them. The air became thick with the forms and shapes of phantoms, pale and grey, as they swirled around the small raft. The men again found their breathing difficult, gasping for air as the cloud’s effect took hold. Braden was first to lose consciousness, falling to the deck with a thud. Aaron fell next, almost slipping into the water as Lorik grabbed his captain in the nick of time.

Lorik remained unaffected by the cloud’s influence. He watched as the phantoms passed back and forth before him, grabbing at the vessel but unable to move or alter the course of the craft. Drifting along, they slowly moved farther down the river, shrouded in fog and unseen by any who may have had a watchful eye over their movements.

The river lapped at the edge of the raft, gently transporting them out of the Waste. Lorik thought that they would end up west of their goal, but knew that escaping the desolate land behind them was worth such a detour. Tired, and no longer fearing the phantom creatures, Lorik checked on his two companions who slept fitfully on the raft. Then he settled down and watched as the phantoms of the mist continued their vain attempts while their raft drifted casually along the river.

****

Aaron woke first, head pounding. Each heartbeat echoed like an anvil in his ears. He sat up and visually explored his new surroundings. Still on the raft, the river bore them along its slow, methodical current. The fog had vanished along with all the phantoms that swirled in the mist, while high above the sun filled the world with its radiant light. Aaron recalled that it was twilight when the ghastly cloud finally reached them but now the noon sun shone brilliant in a crystal blue sky.

They were no longer in the Waste; the landscape had dramatically changed. Green fields bordered either side of the river and tall grasses on high, rolling hills waved in a gentle breeze. To the south, but much closer than he had anticipated, just beyond the hills, the Kanton Mountains loomed large and dangerous. Massive spires of granite rock and shale, rising to snow-capped peaks, looked down upon the drifting travelers with an air of terrifying elegance. He couldn’t tell how far they had come, but was glad to be free from the land behind them.

Lorik woke next. He rubbed his eyes and sat up to look around. “What time of day is it?”

“It’s just beyond mid-day,” Aaron replied hoarsely. “I don’t know how many days we’ve been asleep on this river.”