The Elf King (11 page)

Q
ueen
Sienna walked into her bed
chamber, passing between the four Red Knights stationed at her
door, barred the door closed behind her and dropped face-first onto
her bed. Her body felt ill; her mind even more-so. She had not
eaten nor drank in longer than she could remember. Sleep was out of
the question; especially now. All the hours of the day she spent
waiting; waiting for actions completed in the dark to be brought to
the light; waiting for Turyn’s assassin to be discovered. Waiting
for the dark-cloaked one she met who promised to bring her son to
her. Thinking of the deal they made not only made her sick to her
stomach, but also made her anxious every minute of the
day.

Her mind was losing the
battle for reasoning. At least for now, she knew it.

A warm wind blew into the
chamber from the large open windows, but went unnoticed. Just as
Sienna, Queen of Cillitran, was drifting into much needed rest, a
cold hand embraced the back of her neck. The air turned suddenly
unpleasant. She jumped into a sitting position, instantly awake.
When she saw the blackness standing before her, she repositioned
her body, moving further from it.

“
How did you get in?” She
tried to sound unconcerned, but failed.

Covered in a black cloak,
hooded and appearing faceless, the figure hissed back coldly. It’s
voice was a soft buzzing like a swarm of insects. “You have done
what I asked. Very good of you.”

Sienna’s body shivered with
every word it spoke, as it was in all their meetings. She kept her
gaze at the other’s chest, keeping away from the faceless cowl,
worried at what she might find if something did show.

She swallowed hard. “Have
you brought my son? Where is he?”

“
Issilix
Delsoue?”

The air coming from its
mouth alone was enough for her to gag in response. “I could not
find it. I told you, I’ve never even heard of it. I think you are
mistake—”

“
I want that sword!” It
shrieked in anger, mouth open, eyes filled with a wicked hatred. It
watched the woman slide herself away.

“
You promised my son!” she
snapped regrettably, then returned to her passive form. “I just
want my son. We made a deal.”

“
I am altering the
deal.”

The words made Sienna’s
teeth chatter as she tried to respond. “What do you want with
me?”

“
You.”

Sienna would have ran or
screamed for help, but the dark figure gestured towards her and she
was held firm. She could feel a grip tighten around her neck, her
body instantly nauseated. The figure before her, the one she had
killed her husband for, began pressing its body against hers. She
was going to die, she knew. It would kill her now. It had never
meant to bring Pal Rae to her as promised. She should have known
better. She should have told Turyn of their first encounter when
the dark stranger offered her the proposition: the king for her
son. She should have listened to all the warnings screaming at her
from the beginning.

Queen Sienna choked on the
pungent air now consuming her. Waves of nausea flowed through her
body, entwined with her blood. Something was terribly wrong with
her. With her eyes half open, half conscious, she could see the
other’s robed arms infusing within her own. It was entering.
What’s happening!

As darkness began to funnel
her vision, closing everything in a black wash, Queen Sienna closed
her eyes tight, as she had while taking the life of Turyn
Andelline.

The spirit of the
Mrenx Ku
pulsated inside
the Queen’s body. Her eyes opened anew, holding for a second the
terror that she had left them with. Her body rose from the bed,
hunched, functioning like strings were controlling her movements. A
smile crept over her face and a deep guttural laugh escaped her
once soft lips.

Chapter 7

I
t
was nearing mid-afternoon when Shadox was free of the Lyyn Forest
and entered the Lor Plains. He traveled north from the Ailia Court
on horseback, but once the woods turned heavily knotted, he sent
the horse home and went ahead on foot. He was heading to the ruins
of a fortress hidden within the Stone Flats, long bereft of heirs,
to where his newest protégé Ankar Rie was busy learning. As the
plains stretched away before him, with rocks and giant
split-boulders edging the horizon, his thoughts dwelled on his
first pupil: Dren.

Dren had been far younger
than Ankar Rie was when he had taken him in, but also far more
scarred. Dren’s parents were killed when he was a small boy,
leaving a wound that fed on his anger. Shadox remembered how long
it took him to teach Dren something without the boy lashing out
every time he failed. Dren’s anger easily got the best of him back
then. Shadox taught Dren how to be patient; he showed Dren how
necessary it was to have control over his emotions. It wasn’t easy,
but Dren did change. He learned how to channel his anger through
education and repetition, always pushing himself harder to be
stronger faster, hungry to stand alone.

Only now looking back,
could Shadox see the course he had set Dren on. Shadox had failed
the boy. “He wasn’t ready,” the sorcerer mumbled to himself, as if
admitting the blame would somehow unshackle the chains that bound
him to the guilt.

He quickened his pace,
eager to leave the small grass of the Lor Plains, wishing to reach
the rocky terrain of the Stone Flats within a few hours. His
strides were long and purposeful. He had little time to search what
information would be available and right his wrongs, as he saw it.
Help would be needed, of course, and he knew where to find it.
Ankar Rie would be ready, he told himself.
He would not end up like Dren!

The relationship between
Shadox and his two protégés differed. Though he was close to them
both, and taught them both the same, Ankar Rie was more of a
comrade and seen as an equal. Ankar was in his early stages of
adulthood when Shadox met him; he was already comfortable with who
he was and patient as a student. He was rational and didn’t speak
carelessly. He was hungry, but not so eager that he made poor
decisions. He had seen enough of life to know what a situation
called for and when to leave something alone.

After several months with
the sorcerer, Ankar Rie was training on his own. Shadox was
impressed, admiring his techniques as if their roles had been
reversed. It did not take Ankar long before he was one of the
strongest allies Shadox had.

Dren on the other hand, was
young and in many ways vulnerable. His childhood had left him
angry; his youth made him impatient. But Shadox saw past his
immaturity and found his potential.

Shadox felt his heart ache
terribly. He knew the reality of the situation. The only hope of
saving what remained his protégé was to destroy what he had
become.

Dren would not be coming
back to Illken Dor.

It took a few hours before
Shadox entered the Stone Flats. Gravel littered the dirt beneath
him like leaves in autumn as the field grass of the Lor grew sparse
and then non-existent. The further he strode, the larger and more
congested the rocks became. Soon large boulders jutted skyward,
towering over the tall sorcerer, turning the slight hills and drops
into a winding maze that stretched for miles. But Shadox knew the
turns, right and wrong, and where the pitfalls were. Truth was, he
could find his way through the maze blind. Others who have tried to
pass through became lost and perished. Even the most skilled
Tracker could spend days within the stone garden before finding a
way out.

After nearly an hour of
winding his way through the rock-filled terrain, the sorcerer
scaled a small rise to where he could see down at the valley below.
Night Well stretched before him, a small lake with frigid black
water enclosed by a towering wall of rugged granite. A massive slab
of black granite jutted skyward at the center of the lake. Upon the
rock hid the ancient castle of Illken Dor. Built with dark bricks
and black wood, it was almost unseen within the darkness of the
surrounding water and granite enclosure. Even the tallest towers
blended in with the stories below them. It was made to be an
illusion, in case anyone who did find it would only see a granite
rock.

Shadox smiled. He was
home.

Suddenly Shadox sensed a
voice. Immediately Shadox held his ground, keeping his breath in,
melting into the silence of the rocks.
Shadox! Help!
Again it cried,
pleading with dire urgency. It was Ankar Rie. The fear in his voice
was chilling. Ankar could hold his own under the most demanding
circumstances. Something was very wrong.

Shadox raised his long arms
over his head and began whispering, his fingers twitching fast and
deliberate. Seconds later, he vanished.

S
weat
coated Ankar’s light complexion
in a blue shine, glistening under the light of his magic which was
flowing steadily from his extended fingertips. He was crouched on
one knee, casting a protective shield around him. His wild blonde
hair was damp with his straining effort; his strong body beginning
to tire. The blue shield held firm in a circle around him while the
dark shadows just beyond swarmed violently, trying to break in. Red
fire burned from their fingers, but was deflected by Ankar’s
shield. Past the soft buzzing of his safeguard, he could barely
make out the shrieks hissing at him with terrible
hatred.

Ankar Rie was in the
entrance to the Keep, holding the demons at bay. They had attacked
two days before, swarmed into Illken Dor like a wave of death,
destroying everything. Ankar had been down near the Keep and had
fought and killed several before he was able to push back the
horde, shielding himself to where he was now. The narrow corridor
to the Keep had been the only thing that saved him. If he had been
caught in one of the open chambers, the fight would not have lasted
this long.

The attack had happened so
fast that he didn’t really know who they were or what they wanted,
but the power that they had was evident, pure and driven by
madness. He had felt the air about him turn instantly foul, so much
so that he became nauseated. Seconds later, they were upon him,
flooding down the narrow stretch quickly, racing to destroy him
before he could act. But his magic had flared just before they came
in contact, bursting from his fingers, sending a wave of blue light
searing into the foremost, burning them into ash. A few slipped
past and he was forced to divert his attention quickly from his
left to right, burning into those who reached for the Keep, chasing
after once it was clear to enter the Keep and close out the rest.
But his attackers were relentless and caught him just as he made it
into the door. He was heavily outnumbered. His only chance was to
throw up his shield while he could and think of a solution. He was
alone in Illken Dor; no one would aid him. For two days his mind
raced for answers, but none were found. He used what strength he
could spare to seek out Shadox, finding the sorcerer near Night
Well, and called out to him. With his strength failing slowly, he
heard no response.

Shadox, help!

Now as he crouched low
against the warm floor, his eyes open to a sea of red light
spilling down upon him as the dark monsters tried again to mass
their strength in another failed effort to crash his barrier. Ankar
Rie flinched, feeling a foulness trying to creep under his skin;
their magic was becoming more and more evident to his body. He had
held strong for so long, but he knew his time was running out. A
day more, perhaps. No longer.

Sweat dripped off Ankar’s
chin, forming a small puddle between his knees. His robe was soaked
completely. His neck was sore from the strain, but he preferred the
stance he was in; mentally it seemed appropriate. He kept his eyes
open and alert, waiting patiently for his strength to fail. He paid
high attention to their movements; his timing would have to be
exact. His heart pounded faster. His breathing quickened in
anticipation. His blue eyes darted everywhere; his senses screaming
at him. He took a deep breath and held it.

Suddenly the glimmering
shield around him was gone. Blue bolts of light shot from his
fingers into his attackers, burning them to ash, disintegrating
those closest. As the ash rained down to either side of him, the
blue shield lit again. Shrieks rose terribly loud as red light
smothered his shield. As he exhaled sharply, he smiled. It had
worked again. But it was too risky to keep doing so. He decided not
to chance it again, even if he enjoyed it.