The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (54 page)

“It feels like . . . not quite like eldrhims, but something similar.  Something evil.”  Her voice trembled.  She thrust her hand into her wicker case. 

At this point, my sword was out and ready to go. 
I stepped in front of Sal’, wanting to put myself between her and whatever she was sensing.  It was as if the small amount of heat from the hearth had been sucked from the room. 

“There!” Sal’ exclaimed, pointing just to the side of Oreon’s chair.  There was nothing there.  However, Sal’ was able to see and feel magic energy—a rare talent, according to Max.  Just because we couldn’t see anything didn’t mean there wasn’t something there.

Sal’s right hand started glowing as she held it out before her.  Max tensed on my shoulder, although to cast any magic, he’d be reduced to using me or himself for the energy.  I remained in a position Chasus called the “coiled snake,” ready to attack or defend on a whim.

“I can feel it now,” Max announced.  “We should get out of here.”

“Too late,” Sal’ called as a black form slowly twisted into existence before us, drawing from the hearth’s smoke.  It was the same apparition from the night Kait’ and Jefren had been killed. 

“I knew they would not just leave me to die,” Oreon declared with a confident smile.

“Oh, I would not say that.”  The shadowy form spoke in my father’s voice, only its tone was tainted with cruel malice.  I could still see the wall through the figure, but it was becoming more opaque as the thin trail of smoke continued to pull towards it from the hearth.

Sal’ released a ball of fire towards the apparition before I could stop her.  It passed right through it, not even displacing the smoke.  With a rapid wave of her hand, the flame extinguished before it hit the wall. 

“What is it?” Sal’ hissed through clenched teeth.

“Who are you?” I screamed, tightening my grip on my sword. 

The figure laughed—a laugh just as devoid of sanity as the last time I’d heard it.  “Why, I am the one you will soon be calling Master,” it answered as two glowing red dots lit up on what would be its face.  “One who has been forgotten, but will soon be remembered.”

Aside from being frustratingly vague, the figure’s response also sliced into my heart.  If it really did represent my father, this was my first true interaction with him. 

“And you,” the figure continued, “are familiar.”  His last word trailed off, sounding like wind through trees.  My every muscle froze.  His red-dot eyes flared.  “Ah, yes.  I remember your face.” 

My body tightened to the point of pain.  I couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe.

“It appears you have survived my eldrhims.  Your fortitude is impressive.  You would do well to serve me.”  His recognition of me being based on the night of the eldrhim attack was a relief; I’m not sure how I would’ve reacted if it had instead been because I was his son. 

“Never,” I growled, responding purely on instinct.  He’d just admitted an association with eldrhims.  Even if he was my father, I’d never serve him. 

Max was decidedly quiet.  His claws were dug deeply into my cloak. 

The apparition sighed, a plume of smoke roiling from where his mouth would be. 
“Such a shame.  Perhaps you will live to once again receive such an offer.”  Another cruel laugh echoed through the room.  “Perhaps.  As for now, I am glad to have an audience to witness my power—the power your army must bow to or die.  You see, this soldier’s life is mine to do with as I wish.”  The figure lifted a smoky arm towards Oreon.  “Behold.”

Oreon’s eyes widened and darted back and forth, his breathing rapid and labored through his open mouth.  “What are you going to do?”  He struggled against the ropes binding his hands and feet, sending the chair teetering.  “I have done everything asked of me!”  The panic in Oreon’s voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

The figure let out a sound that may have been a laugh, but it sounded more like a hissing cat—and trust me, I’d heard plenty feline hisses before Max’s rodential transition.  “Yes, and now,” the shadowy figure rasped, “you are asked to be an example of what all of Amirand faces.”

With a grating choke, Oreon’s eyes widened even further, to the point of bulging.  Strangled gagging bubbled up from his throat.  His face went completely white, and his chair wobbled noisily on the floor as he continued his struggle. 

With a violent tremor, blood began gushing from Oreon’s mouth.  He continued to shake as his blood spouted down his front like a fountain, spilling onto the floor and forming a puddle beneath the chair.  The tottering chair legs splattered sickeningly in the thick red fluid.  The skin of his face and hands blackened.  His eyes flared with a bright red tint.

And then Oreon was still.  His death had only lasted a matter of moments, but it had felt like a lifetime.  The two red orbs on the apparition’s face seemed to convey amusement as we watched, helpless to do anything.

“I truly hope you enjoyed my demonstration,” the apparition spoke with cruel satisfaction.  “Understand that I cannot be defeated.  Your armies, your wizards, and your dragons are all incapable of withstanding my power.  There is no one to protect you.  Not this time.” 

With that, the smoke comprising the figure dissipated, leaving nothing but us and the dead Paigean soldier. 

Chapter 47

Anger, Acceptance, and a Squirrel’s Empty Stomach

Without even being conscious of my actions, I lobbed my sword across the room, shattering some glass ornaments on a bookshelf.  My vision went red, camouflaging the blood pooled on the floor before me.  I let out a scream that sent Max jumping from my shoulder—a scream of hopelessness.  A scream of futility.  A scream of frustration. 

I wanted to collapse from the weight of the world, from the weight of the expectation that I could somehow stop the senseless death that surrounded us.  Even if the prophecy didn’t explicitly state that I’d put an end to the war, that sense of duty still blanketed me, still constricted my being until I could barely breathe.

Sal’ was suddenly standing before me, fear reflecting in her eyes.  Max was on her shoulder, his face drawn in concern.  The front door swung open with a loud crack, admitting Julus, the younger wizard, and a cold burst of air.  Both wizards seemed ready to incinerate anything that threatened Sal’. 

“General, are you okay?” Julus questioned.  He took in Oreon with a flicker of revulsion.  “What happened here?  We heard screaming.”  When he saw my trembling body and the anger on my face, he took a step towards me as if
I
were the threat.  I’m not sure his concern wasn’t warranted. 

“Leave us,” Sal’ commanded harshly, casting a no-questions glare towards Julus. 

Julus paused, making me wonder if he’d take this opportunity to finally accept that Sal’ no longer had authority over him.  Instead, he clapped his fist to his chest.  “As you command,” he obliged.  “We will remain outside the door, however, in case our assistance is required.”  He tugged the younger wizard behind him, pulling the door shut as they exited.  Sal’ shook her head ruefully and brought her eyes back to my own. 

Each breath sent raging anger coursing through my lungs.  My hand balled into a fist, and I felt the urge to slam it into Sal’s face simply for being another person who thought I should be able to put an end to the war.  The spike of pain that bore into the back of my skull—the area where the voice of reason lay imprisoned—reminded me that my anger was beyond irrational. 

I shut my eyes and clenched my jaw until it hurt.  I forced myself to control my breathing, struggling to relax my arms before something bad happened against my will. 

“Korin, it’s okay.  We’re here for you,” Sal’ whispered.  “Come back to us, Korin.”

“Listen to Salmaea,” Max commanded softly.  “Concentrate on your love for her—on our love for you.  Take control of your emotions.  You have done it before, and you can do so again.”  

When I opened my eyes, the world was back to its normal hues.  Sal’, even with her eyes brimming with tears and lined with concern, was beautiful.  Max was . . . well, Max was still a squirrel.

Max’s atypical display of emotion helped me realize just how close I was to losing myself to the unnatural anger.  I needed to take control again.  “I’m okay,” I told them, confident that I could hold the still churning anger at bay now that I’d recognized it.  “I’m okay,” I repeated, more for myself this time.

Sal’ slid one hand around the back of my head, studying my eyes.  She then gave me a soft kiss as one tear escaped down her delicate cheek.  I leaned into the kiss, the feel of her lips helping to numb my internal strife. 
Max grunted, most likely disgusted that the display of affection occurred while he was still on Sal’s shoulder. 

When Sal’ leaned back, she had a tenuous smile on her lips.  “What is happening to you?” she asked in a whisper.

“That’s something else I’ll have to catch you up on,” I answered, unsure how to explain to Sal’ that because of Max drawing magic energy from me, I had a fuse about as long as a fingernail and an anger as controllable as lightning.  I tried not to think about whether I could ever completely trust myself not to hurt those I cared about or not.  If I’d let my mind go down that path at that moment, I’m not sure I would’ve found my way back.  “For now, I’m all right.”

“You have an interesting definition of ‘all right’,” Max chuckled.  Though still working to keep my seething anger at bay, I managed to give him an appropriately sarcastic glare.

I stepped forward and crouched to examine Oreon’s corpse.  His face was black, and his still open eyes were blood red.  He looked like some kind of demonic creature.  Blood continued to ooze from his mouth, nose, and ears.  I couldn’t help but pity the man; he’d had a family, one who’d never know that he’d died or how he’d been betrayed. 

“What did that thing do to him?” I asked.

Max let out a loud exhalation.  “My guess is that he increased the pressure of Oreon’s blood flow until every blood-carrying vessel in his body burst.  It was a quick but painful death.  As to the how . . . I am not sure in the least.”

Max’s words sent a shudder through my body.

“What was that thing, anyway?” Sal’ questioned.  “Why did he know who you were, Korin?”

I rose slowly to my feet.  “I encountered him once before, when I was on my way to find you,” I answered.  “After he appeared, he sent eldrhims and undead after me.  He may do the same here.  We may have another fight on our hands tonight.”

Max shook his head.  “No,
they
may have another fight on
their
hands tonight,” Max corrected, gesturing with a tiny arm towards the front door.  “You, on the other hand, will sleep.  If you wish to continue on to Bherin tomorrow, you need to be rested.”  Max paused before adding, “And alive.”

“No, Max, I . . .
”  I didn’t even have an argument.  Max was right: I needed to concentrate on the bigger picture.  If I was going to fight, if I was going to die, I wanted it to be in an attempt to end the war.

“You’re right,” I conceded. 
“Again.”

“I am also hungry.”  Max’s small stomach rumbled in agreement.

Sal’ didn’t even seem to hear what Max had said.  Her eyes were focused on the dead soldier.  “What did he mean?” she asked quietly.  “What did he mean about there being no one to protect us
this time
?”

“I do not know,” Max responded soberly.  Then, after a slight pause, “
Salmaea, have the Wizard Guard start spreading the word that we will likely be facing an attack tonight.  We need to inform all who remain in Terafall, so they can either evacuate before nightfall or be ready to face eldrhims.”  His attention shifted to me.  “I need to speak to Korin alone.”

Sal’ sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes pained. 
“Just what these soldiers need.  First they lose half their numbers to zombies, then they’re rescued by dragons, and now they’re going to be told that they may have to face the minions of the god of death.”

“It’s better than dying due to ignorance of their existence,” I offered with a shrug.  The look Sal’ gave me could’ve frozen boiling water in summer.  I hadn’t meant my words to be crass, but it looked as if Sal’ had taken them that way.

“I will meet back up with you shortly,” Sal’ snipped as she started for the door. 

I caught Sal’s arm.  Max took the opportunity to scamper from her shoulder to my own.  “Sal’, I’m sorry.”  I figured an apology was better than an explanation. 

Sal’ gave me a tired smile and patted me on my stubbled cheek.  Maybe I was improving on what Max liked to call my “ignorance of the fairer sex.” 

Sal’ left, letting a chilly draft sweep across the room as she closed the door behind her.  I retrieved my sword and sheathed it, giving Oreon another glance.  Blood still dripped from his face.  I was disgusted by my ability to take in the horrid sight of his blackened body with a steady stomach, by just how desensitized I’d become to such horrors.  Maybe his death just didn’t seem as grisly with much worse being only a doorway away. 

“Can we really do anything to stop this, Max?”

“We will not know until we try.”  Max’s response was followed by a long pause.  “Korin, you were right about one thing: the apparition spoke with your father’s voice.”

Max’s words stung like salt to a wound.  “So my father really is—”

“Korin,” Max snapped, cutting me off, “my convictions about your father have not changed.  Remember, your father is not a wizard.  He does not have the ability to do what you just witnessed.  However, I want to make sure that if the worst case scenario presents itself, you will be able to handle it.”

Something changed in me at that moment.  I can’t say what exactly.  All I can say is that I no longer cared about whether my father was some kind of evil, tyrannical mastermind or not.  I no longer cared if he was being controlled or not.  I realized that I would do whatever I had to do to save not only the lives of those I cared about, but all the innocent people who were being swept into the war as well.  The weight of the world may have been trying to crush me, but I would stand tall against it.

“Max, I will do whatever is necessary to end this.  If I have to kill my own father to do so, so be it.”

“Korin—”

“Max, I hope you’re right about him.  However, even if you’re not, I’ll still do what I must.  This war has to end.  If I can’t stop it, then I’ll pave the way for someone else to.  I won’t falter if confronted with an untoward truth.”  I felt the last of my anger ebb, resolve flowing in its place.

Max’s shiny black eyes took me in, unblinking.  “And I will stand with you, no matter what.” 

I gave Max an appreciative smile.  “Let’s get the others, get a plan—”

“And food—do not forget the food.  Preferably something warm and spicy.”

“Max,” I chastised, gesturing to Oreon’s body.

“Yes, it is sad, but sadness will not fill my stomach.”

“Only you,” I sighed, unable to keep the corner of my mouth from twitching into a smirk.  The break in the somber mood was welcome. 

“What?” Max countered in mock offense.

“Furball,” I muttered, turning to the door.

“Lunkhead.”