Maylin's Gate (Book 3) (27 page)

“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?"

"They're small and live in the treetops. They eat fruits and vegetables. Monkeys are harmless."

"That's good to know. Thank you. Thoth mentioned the monkeys. We must be getting close."

General Demos nodded and the two set off stepping over a spaghetti bowl of roots.

His gaze drifted to the treetops and a feeling of deep unease took hold. "I feel like someone's watching us."

General Demos's tongue flickered. "I sense nothing out of the ordinary. It's probably the monkeys."

"Is that tongue of yours ever wrong? Because my skin's crawling."

General Demos shrugged and hopped over a fallen tree.

He followed and his gaze locked on the ground ahead. "What's that?"

"A game trail." General Demos pointed to the thin trail extending into the forest. "A swamp cat or some other predator probably made it."

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm talking about." He brushed past General Demos and paused a half-dozen yards ahead. He knelt and pushed aside a clump of vines. "Come look at this."

A square stone marker made of smooth polished stone stood beside a gum tree. Symbols worn by time had once adorned the face. But, any information they may have revealed had long since weathered away. The marker leaned at an odd angle pushed aside by centuries of overgrowth.

General Demos stepped forward and knelt beside him. "I wonder who built this."

He ran his fingertips over the symbols and shook his head. "Someone who never heard of Meranthia." He knew so little of the world. Sheltered from the past and oblivious of the future, the world held many secrets. He stood. "We should keep moving."

General Demos stood and gazed along the game trail. "That way."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." The general walked along the game trail and disappeared around a wide cypress trunk.

He tightened the grip on his pack and strode ahead hopping over a cluster of intertwined roots.

A long unsettling hiss came from around the tree.

His stomach fluttered. He hurried forward and stopped short of running into General Demos's back.

General Demos's arm flashed outward with palm spread open.

Heart pounding, he stopped in front of the general's outstretched arm. He followed General Demos's gaze to the game trail ahead.

A fur-clad creature with broad shoulders and a humped back stood blocking the game trail. Feathers adorned a necklace hanging from the ape's neck. The ape's meaty hand clutched a gnarled staff adorned with a skull and dressed with red and black feathers.

The ape's broad head tilted bearing an indifferent look of curiosity.

He glanced at General Demos from the corner of his eye. "Did they have these in Baerin too?"

General Demos's gaze never wavered from the ape blocking the path ahead.

Should he speak to the ape? It appeared the creature held some intellectual capacity.

The chirping of birds and the chatter of monkeys faded replaced by an unsettling silence.

"Hello." He cleared his throat and half-waved to the ape. "I'm Ronan —"

The ape opened its mouth wide revealing razor sharp teeth set in blood-red gums. The beast lumbered forward. Twigs snapped beneath its enormous weight.

General Demos moved in a blur of motion.