Mortal gods, p.39
Mortal Gods, page 39
“The tree, Adrian.” Tristan said forcefully.
Adrian turned his eye towards the tree. It writhed and shivered in the night, and for half a heartbeat, Adrian swore it glared straight back at him. Upon the bark, there seemed a thousand enraged eyes, frantically searching the darkness.
The mood of the heckling phantom turned to sheer rage. Adrian was almost spent, but again, he dug as deep – he had no choice. The flames spattered at first, struggling to find their full voice, but one last push made them sing a roasted chorus of power. The branches disintegrated, the eyes rolled back beneath the bark and the cackling was no longer mocking.
The phantom disappeared, just as a shadowy blade almost cut through Adrian’s throat. But from the core of the tree, something else stood from the flames. It tried desperately to reach Adrian, an unbridled rage etched across its ever morphing features. The face swarmed through familiar faces. From the villagers of Redbridge to the hardened face of the Khamari doctor that was so unwelcoming, Griffen, Topher, Mangus, Avari – all had their chance to hurl a curse Adrian’s way. But then a flicker of one to close to home, broke Adrian’s focus, if only by a second, but it was enough. The phantom crashed through the barrier of flames that kept it contained and lashed out at Adrian. He hurled backwards in a tumble, losing his bareings as he fell.
Adrian could feel the bitter coldness of the creature’s body until finally, they came to a crashing halt. The sweet sensation of a deep breathe was thwarted by the constant false start of his lungs. He lay on his back, feeling the amalgamations of pain spread every which way, especially his bandaged arm. Adrian lifted his head gently, looking for the phantom, but the darkness was as dense as it had ever been.
“Adrian, get up!” Tristan snapped.
But Adrian’s legs would not head the command. He struggled against the pain, and the fatigue, but it wasn’t enough.
“Adrian, the phantom is losing its power to keep you here! You must GET UP!” Tristan screamed in his ear.
Adrian acknowledged the words but could barely find the energy to breath never mind move. His head tilted again, and seen the blood coursing from his bandaged arm, making him woozy. An almighty force of effort was consumed to pull him up, but the phantom appeared once more, inches from his face. Its face was a hardened grey shell, almost human, missing most to make it so. It screaming a silhouette of manic, jumbled words and reached for Adrian’s throat. Its icy cold grip smothered over his face and then the draining of everything around. The darkness seemed to grow blander; the canvassed face of the phantom, smeared in blur as the seconds ticked past.
“RESIST!” He heard Tristan call but it was all consuming.
Adrian resisted, whatever that was. It was like falling into a deep sleep the body knew it absolutely needed, but fighting its temptations. It was the temptation of stealing a piece of Pauper’s fresh bread before dinner. It was everything he wanted and more, all in one. But he fought against it. Somewhere in the darkened embrace, Adrian asked why. He pushed back, feeling… something.
He wasn’t sure if that was success, but it heartened him, made him push more. He slipped his hand up around the neck of the phantom and squeezed. But as the energy was sapped from him, but somehow, he could feel the phantom wilt too. Small hints of the grand hall Adrian began his trial in sneaked through the black veil of darkness. He squeezed a little more, feeling his fingers like they weighed a ton. He squeezed like it was the only thing he had been born to do. For what seemed a lifetime, there was just him, the phantom and his hands around its neck, until the deathly silence was no more. Adrian drifted back to a reality of blood, thunder and chaos. His senses were scrambled and the noise around him was partially blocked by the screaming yawn of silence.
“Elise!” Adrian panted through his shortened breathe, but he wasn’t sure if he had spoken or not. “Elise!” He screamed, finally hearing his own voice.
“I'm here!” She said panting heavily. “We have to go!”
Adrian rubbed his eyes and stood up unsteadily. The breeze was thicker than he remembered before the trial, in fact, it was positively gusting. Adrian gasped and fired a worried glance at Elise. “Was this me?!”
The room was obliterated. Flames roared on the upper half of the hall, and thickening smog filled the air. Bodies of the initiates who scowled at Adrian before, lay scattered across the hall, some motionless others pleading for help. Adrian looked around and then to Elise.
“No!” Elise reassured him.
Adrian heard her, almost. He was distracted by the yawning wound on the tower wall, which looked out over the protected land beyond the barrier. He wandered closer to the hole, still reeling from the tiredness and peered intently over the distance. The barrier that protected the Orders was in a constant fluctuation, like a pulsating beat that screamed over its surface. In places, it had failed, and looked like shattered glass.
He edged closer still and peered through the hole for the source and then it gripped his gut and squeezed as though to ring the blood from his body. The distance was great but there was no mistaking the legends that he had heard, for what peered straight back at him were red eyes.
“Elise!” Adrian shouted.
“Gods help us, The Black King… ” She whispered breathlessly.
“Adrian, Elise!” High Maester Dante called out as he sprinted in though the oak door and across the carnage of the grand hall.
“You knew he was here! That’s why you made me push Adrian’s Maester test!” Elise barked.
Dante ignored her, “Take Adrian to the Chamber of the Eye!”
“It’s empty?” Elise replied.
“Listen to me!” Dante barked. “Take him there, you will know what to do! Iago will be waiting for you! Now go!”
Adrian had been so captivated by the stinging red eyes of the Black King that he had missed the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of men stood in wait behind him.
“Come on, Adrian!” Elise said tugging his arm.
Dante turned away from the pair and leaped clean out of the gapping hole in the side of the Orders foundations. Adrian gawked in horror and ran towards the opening, but as his eyes met the ground the High Maester stood unhurt, at the forefront of a hundred black robed Elemento.
“Adrian we have to move!” Elise called. “We have to go!”
Adrian was dragged back from the hole and the pair bolted out of the grand hall and through the Order. The pristinely covered floors were showered with debris. Every where around, the frightened faces of women, children and even some men who shifted past quickly. They climbed the stairs at a ferocious pace, crossing the walkways between the circumference of the Order twice before Elise suddenly slammed to a halt.
“What’s wrong?” Adrian said trying the recover his breath.
“That’s the Elder stairs.” She said wearily looking at the steps just a toe away.
“So?” Adrian replied impatiently, almost seconds away from bursting out of his skin and up the steps.
“Only the Elders and High Maesters have climbed them.”
“Not the time for being sentimental!” Adrian exclaimed looking nervously over his shoulder
She halted a moment to long and Adrian burst past her, dragging her up the flight of stairs by the arm. They burst through the tall oak door at the top and into a long running parallel corridor. On either side, two more strong oak doors stood.
“Which one?” Adrian asked.
Elise dragged him left and through the door, revealing little Iago behind it.
“Come, come, quickly!” He snapped pulling them both inside and closing the door forcefully behind them.
The room was vast and stretched high into the ceiling, and smelled like a musk only decades of idleness could produce.
“Chamber of what?” Adrian soured, “You sure we’re in the right place?”
All around it appeared as though it was somewhere to store various artefacts and the likes, but to Adrian, it seemed junk.
“I have to get to Port Dalsay!” Adrian exclaimed, suddenly remembering that the others could be in danger.
“Yes, yes!” Iago said wading through the white sheets which covered almost everything, and pulled the tallest one down. Behind it was a painting, the canvas slick with oils and framed in gold. It depicted a man, clad in perfectly tailored robes, solid underneath their flattering hug. His shoulder length blonde hair, underpinned the deep sapphire glow of his eyes. He had a strong jaw but wore a scowl that spoke of authority. Adrian stood silently for a moment while Iago shuffled around the painting, dragging it forward with the help of Elise.
“Quickly!” He spattered, struggling to shift the grand frame it resided in.
“Where is it, where is it!” Iago murmured to himself, now frantically sifting through the other sheets, which covered various artefacts in the room, in pursued of something.
“Who are you?!” Elise demanded forcefully.
He looked to Iago, but the little Elish creature was in to much of a frenzy to notice.
“I don’t even know anymore.” Adrian said. He sat down on one of the white sheets, thankful the furniture underneath didn’t break, and sighed deeply.
“I suspected before, but now, The Black King kicks down our front door. Has the Cycle begun again?” She asked.
Adrian nodded. “I didn’t mean for this –”
“Don’t apologise! Iago, are you ready?” She called over Adrian’s shoulder.
“The scroll, Iago needs the scroll!” He shouted back at her. She moved swiftly to help him but Adrian tugged at her arm. “My names, Adrian, I’m the grandson of Wyland Tarquinious.”
Adrian felt he owed her the truth, but as soon as he said it, he feared it was a mistake. Her face screwed like he had slapped her and her words were vacant her throat.
“Iago has found it!” Iago called as loudly as he could in sheer mesmeric joy. “Elise must help.”
“Who is this?” Adrian asked, seeing the painting for its true quality.
“High Maester Horatio Alamar, first Guardian and founder of the Order of Ell.” Iago said in place of Elise. She peered at the painting but never seemed to see it, her eyes stared through space.
“Pas de mariah nuros, fernuva dariso.” Iago said with concentration pouring from him.
Adrian paused for a moment, he had heard that before somewhere, but it eluded his grasp.
“In the name of the gods, open this door.” Elise absently repeated.
Adrian was dragged back to Grayward, under the archway and the husk voice of Sal. The painting was constant for a moment after, but ever so gently, it shimmered. It was as though it had been liquefied. Horatio Alamar was no longer featured on the canvas, only darkness, like the ink had invaded its neighbouring colours to form a thick blackness.
“Adrian must go!” Iago said, pushing him to the brink of the shimmering darkness.
Adrian hesitated for a moment.
“Go now!” Elise yelled. She shoved him through the painting and the air was sucked from his lungs like a vacuum.
The sensation was terrifying. All his senses competed with one another, like his body was caught between being torn into pieces and put back together. This was a feeling like no other the young boy had felt before, but through the fear, there was only one thing. The red eyes.
Chapter 18
Once More into the Darkness
Adrian
“It’s been nearly five weeks, Wyland!” Arianna snapped.
The old man sat in a rocking chair gazing out of a second story window of Port Dalsy’s tavern, at the horizon as he puffed gently on his pipe.
“Wyland!!” She yelled, her temper frayed.
“I hear you girl.” The old man said slightly, but never turning his eye from the horizon.
“Well? Shouldn’t we go check on him or do… something?” She said in exasperation. “Avari?” She pleaded with the young boy who was slumped out on the cushions that were across the floor.
“If he has not left the Order, there is good reason.” Wyland said smoothly, but it did little to stay Arianna’s tongue.
“You’re as concerned as I am; you haven’t stopped glaring at that horizon!” She snapped coldly at him.
“It is not Adrian I search for my girl.” He said puffing once more from his pipe.
“But what if something happened? What if he’s hurt? What if –“
“Enough, Arianna.” Avari interrupted her. “Adrian has a god watching over him, he’ll be safer than either of us right now.”
There were three loud knocks on the door, the third of which finally drew Wyland’s eyes back inwards to the room. Arianna strode towards the door and twisted the creaky handle to pull it open. On the other side was the heavy set tavern owner Holland.
“Captain Ryce has been askin’ after you again.” He said cautiously, but lingered a moment to long.
“Yes, is there something on your mind?” Wyland said flicking the ashes from his pipe and stowing it away beneath his robes.
“I’m just wonderin’ when I’ll be getting’ rid of ye all?” Holland replied honestly.
“I appreciate we have outstayed our welcome, but a few days more should be sufficient.” Wyland said. “Is the Captain downstairs?”
“Aye, hanging about like a bad smell.” Holland said deadly serious.
Wyland had risen from the rocking chair and strode towards the door, placing a gentle hand the shoulder of the tavern owner and descending the steps with him.
“Captain Ryce.” Wyland said in acknowledgement.
Wyland walked around the bar and sat at the usual table and invited the Captain to sit. The tavern was empty of its usual noise mostly due to the other ships crews having gone
“Three weeks loot me and me crew have forfeited!” He said, but the old man could sense the tension in his voice.
“And you have been suitably compensated as we discussed Captain.”
Wyland withdrew a small pouch from his robes and placed it gently on the table.
“Your gold –”
“My gold is not the problem.” Wyland interrupted. “The problem is your crew are men of the waves marooned on land, correct?” Wyland said forcefully.
“Aye.” Captain Ryce nodded.
“You are the captain, your will be done. My gold keeps you and your men drunk enough to forget they care.” Wyland said.
“Your gold buys you a few more days.” He said, reaching for the brown purse that sat on the table and placed it into his jacket pocket. “The best I can do.”
“Very well Captain.” Wyland said. “If you secure me a further week, I will see your palms flush with more gold than ten years at sea could afford.”
The Captain faltered in his resolve, his face slowly turning from the dry, hardened gravel to one of intrigue.
“Tell me more.” He said, finally taking a seat at the table.
He wilted down slowly as though the lure of the gold was slowly gripping him, like a snake wrapped around his form and bent him to its will. Wyland smiled gently,
“Where to begin.” He glowed.
The random buzzing of starry lights against the deathly blackness of nothing, dazed and confused the mind. Adrian was deceived by the seduction of their enticing promise of quiet. It was a minute before long, but when Adrian began to stir gently, he was hit all at once. His back felt as though he saddled a load fit only for the likes of titans, the weight pressing him deeper into the crusted ground below. His head throbbed and pulsated with every forceful beat of his heart, and of course, his arm joined in with the irresistible temptation to skewer pain throughout. Adrian forced the darkness backwards from the threshold and opened his eyes, only to be greeted by more darkness. He questioned whether had actually opened his eyes in the first place until gentle rays of light sliced across his vision. Adrian braced himself and then threatened movement, only to feel a lingering disobedience in his muscles. The bitter surface below cut into his back, like he lay on broken glass, and his mind was hazy; all Adrian could recall was the bitter coldness he felt for what seemed forever. The information he sought was locked away tightly in a fog of uncertainty and half-truths. Adrian braced once more and forced himself upright, the ever present slicing of the ground below a constant reminder of caution. The shifting blood flow in his body rushed immediately to the bandaged arm making it pulsate like never before. Adrian winced audibly, disturbing the hallowed quiet of the place he was yet to survey.
It was hard to place where he had landed, but the darkened shapes and slender cuts of light suggested to Adrian a forest or some dense woodland of which there were many in Oraan. As he stood up, a surge of pain shot straight to his head to dull the senses and stall his rise. It was only then did he realise the razor sharp thorn bush he had lay in. While Adrian willed the throbbing to subside, the very faintest of alerts fretted within him. In the midst of the darkness, in the places Adrian couldn’t yet discern as danger, low growling and scuffing steps filled the silence. He pushed the buzzing from his head and crouched down low, hoping that a reprieve would come his way. The growling and crunching of the brittle leaves, that had be cast down from the trees above, surrounded him now, louder, more aggressive. He floundered, letting a panic settle deep within the pits of his stomach. He had no weapons, nothing to defend himself with and his mind was partially catatonic and too unfocused to conjure. Adrian’s eye battled the darkness but there was no let up. The slight slits of light that penetrated the unforgiving trees above wasn’t enough. A small figure chopped through the last defence of the bush using some long object to crush the thickness of the brush that had stood between he and Adrian.
“Who goes there?” Adrian yelled at the figure.
No answer. But still it stalked towards him, holding the stick menacingly over one shoulder.
