6

 

In the Hall of the Fallen King

 

 

Aaron woke as chains clattered and rattled against a stone floor. Severely disoriented, his vision was blurred and his head throbbed with pain, as if it were an anvil being struck by a hammer. The captain tried to clear his thoughts and fight against the confusion. “Who’s there?” he mumbled as he tried to stand but slumped back onto the floor.

“It’s me, Captain,” Braden responded hoarsely.

“What about the sergeant? Is he here?” Aaron whispered against the pain in his head.

“Yes, sir,” Lorik said, his speech slurred. “I’m here.”

Aaron exhaled a sigh of relief, exhausted and feeling as if he had been pummeled. Slowly his eyesight began to clear as the effects of the unnatural fog gradually wore off. All three companions sat chained to a wall. The captain tugged at his restraints only to find them sufficiently secured to the ancient stone of the dungeon. Though rusted, the iron proved quite strong and would not be broken by his efforts.

Above him, through fractures in the ceiling, faint light filtered in through the dusty air. The chamber smelled dank and musty and the cold air only intensified the misery. His eyes had grown accustomed to the dim ribbons of light that filtered in from above and he could see with greater clarity, so Aaron took to examining his surroundings. The pounding headache he suffered, however, roared against the effort.

They occupied a square room, with six iron rings anchored on each wall and no furnishings whatsoever. A small wooden door, rounded at the top, with a barred, undersized window provided the only access in or out of the cell. Aaron’s eyesight cleared even more and he observed along the wall opposite the three companions, the skeletal remains of three others, bound with iron chains, and clothed in tattered garments. Though Aaron couldn’t make out much detail, it was obvious that the remains were once dwarves, judging by their size. The sight shocked him momentarily and brought to his mind a fear that he and the others waited upon a similar fate.

Lorik held his head, occasionally moaning in agony. “Captain,” he spoke softly, “how long do you think we’ve been here?”

“I don’t think long,” Aaron replied, also trying to speak as quiet as possible. “It seems that whatever knocked us out is just now wearing off.” He looked up to the streaming light from the cracks in the ceiling, trying to determine the time of day. “By the looks of it, I don’t think we’ve been here more than a few hours.” Bracing himself as he stood, Aaron tried to move closer to Lorik who was anchored between himself and Braden. The stone was cold to the touch, and the world began to spin as he stood. The clanking noise of his chains brought a groan from both Lorik and Braden.

“Captain”—Lorik hefted his chains in despair with anguish in his voice—“I should have alerted you sooner… before this happened.”

“Sergeant, I don’t think that we would have been able to escape. Even if we had all been alert, it was the fog that overwhelmed us.” Aaron couldn’t stop thinking about the figures he observed in the mist. Like swirling lights or iridescent ghosts, he remembered what appeared to be the shapes and sights of people. “Braden,” he asked, “do your stories or history ever tell of creatures that dwell in the mist and fog of this region?”

Braden was silent for some time. “No Captain,” he whispered, “I don’t remember anything about such ghostly visitors.” He paused again. “What do you think will happen to us?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron replied. “We’ve been captured and not killed and that is reason enough to think that there is more that our captors want from us.”

With nothing else to do but wait, they sat as near each other as their iron chains would allow. While Lorik examined the rings around his wrists and ankles, hoping to find some means of manipulating the locking mechanism, Braden studied the room, stopping to stare at the three skeletons across from them. In a swirl of agitation, he shouted, “Captain, our packs our gone!”

Aaron looked at the dwarf with puzzled amusement. “Braden,” he spoke with some sarcasm, “captives are seldom given the chance to keep their gear.”

Lorik just shook his head. “It’s unlikely that we’ll see those things again.”

Aaron continued, speaking with greater seriousness. “We are left with just our garments, and, if we actually escape, we might have to travel the Waste without food or water.” He said as he tugged at his restraints.

Braden groaned. “Captain,” he said, “there is nothing in this region that will sustain us. Even with my knowledge of plant life, if we were to try and cross the expanse, I will not find anything of value to eat. I fear that our quest will die right here.” Braden sighed with resigned despair.

“You don’t know that,” Lorik retorted. “What makes you think we won’t escape?”

“Do you see those skeletons?” Braden asked. The other two nodded. “Those three are dwarves—or at least they used to be.” Braden spoke with trepidation. “If they were captured as we are, I would guess that they tried to escape and found that there was nowhere to go.”

“How do you know this?” asked Aaron.

“Dwarves don’t take well to captivity, Captain. It would be unthinkable that three dwarves together in this place would have simply accepted their imprisonment. No, I am sure that they would have attempted to escape—and failed.”

“But you don’t know that all three were together,” protested Lorik. “It could be that they simply were captured at separate times in the years past.”

“No, I am certain that they were captured together. All three are wearing clothes that the dwarves of the Kanton Mountains would wear,” Braden said. “I imagine that when the mountains were overrun, in their haste to escape they came through the Waste. It happened several hundred years ago, and the condition of these three speaks for the long years their bodies have been here.”

Aaron, his head still pounding from the effects of the fog, thought about their situation. “One thing is for certain,” he said, “we will need to escape… even if we don’t find our gear. We may have to trust our fortune in the Waste, but from this point on, we watch for an opportunity to leave.”

“Captain,” asked Lorik, “how are we supposed to escape?”

“I don’t have any idea,” Aaron said, “but an opportunity will present itself if we are waiting for it.”

Just then the cell door opened, its rusty hinges protesting loudly, creaking as the door slowly swung inward. A tall, shadowed figure, his head and body covered with a black cowl and robe entered the chamber. Only his white, bony hands protruded from the folds of the garment, with long, claw-like fingers that gripped the door with one hand and a tall staff with the other.

As it moved, it seemed as if the stranger simply drifted along some invisible current of air, barely making any motion as he entered. When the tall figure passed through the filaments of light streaming down from the ceiling, a glint of gold glimmered from under his hood. With unseen eyes, the visitor seemed to glare down upon the three companions.

The cold room grew more frigid with the unknown visitor’s presence while a strong foreboding filled Aaron’s thoughts. The stranger casually raised his hand and the shackles fell from Aaron’s wrist and ankles, clanging to the stone floor.

“Come with me!” The stranger’s voice echoed against the stone structure and carried a sense of power mingled with despair. Aaron felt a strong grip on his body, as if the air itself forced him to stand and move toward the door. He fought against the unseen power but no matter how much he struggled, he kept walking toward the door. Braden and Lorik stood to charge at the strange intruder, having obviously forgotten the chains which bound them to the wall. With a sudden stop, they came up short and fell with a thud to the floor.

Any struggle against the unseen power which forced him toward the door proved futile so Aaron relented and joined the stranger as he moved out of the room. Braden still struggled against his bonds, while Lorik just watched in anguish as Aaron stepped through the threshold.

Aaron followed his guide along a dimly lit corridor. Torches hung in sconces along the wall, several paces apart, and provided enough light to navigate the passage. He didn’t believe his captor needed the illumination they provided. The corridor looked as if no one had walked along its floor for a century. Small clouds of dust, kicked up by his movements, hung about his ankles in the stillness of the hallway, slowly settling again as he walked along the passageway.

Though faded and worn, ancient pictures decorated the wall, and depicted scenes of lavish, fertile farmlands, villages and a majestic, towered castle overlooking the entire glorious scene. Occasionally Aaron tried to resist the pressure that forced him to move, but the power of his guide was more than he could overcome.

The artistic grandeur that adorned the corridor seemed out of place in the dark, musty castle. Some of the paintings had fallen from their supports and were left on the floor, broken and forgotten. Others hung precariously on the wall. The entire scene brought a feeling of despair to Aaron as he looked upon an ancient glory long gone. He wondered if the castle portrayed in many of the paintings was actually the fortress where he and his companions were now being held as prisoners. The picturesque landscapes, painted with such care and skill, seemed to Aaron to resemble the same region as the Waste. A sense of hopelessness tried to steal his courage, as doubts crept into his thoughts that they could ever break out of their incarceration. He rejected the thought and steeled himself to either escape or die in the attempt.

His guide led him to a large, ornate double door on the left wall of the passageway, with majestic scenes carved into the heavy mahogany. Unlike the rest of the castle, the door leading into the room beyond was well kept and polished. Its hinges were oiled and rust free. It stood in stark contrast to everything he saw. He also noticed that another, wider corridor led directly away from the ornate doors; it was also well lit and well maintained. Aaron’s mind raced with the possibility that the second corridor was the main hall out of the castle.

“There is no escape,” the hooded figure spoke as if perceiving Aaron’s thoughts.

Aaron turned his attention back to his guide who lingered before the large, mahogany door. Above it, engraved on a gold plaque, was the image of a sword, encircled by a crown tarnished and covered with dust.

The guide raised his hand slightly. When he did, the two doors swung inward, revealing a large chamber, extravagant in its décor and brightly lit. At the back of the room, opposite the doorway, a large circular dais held a massive marble throne. Pillars of marble lined the walls, holding the arched ceiling high overhead. On each pillar a torch blazed in glorious light, while between each of the pillars bronze, oil-filled basins flickered with fire, their smoke rising up and venting through small openings in the ceiling high above.

Unlike the hallway, no pictures or tapestries decorated the room. What hung on the walls was a massive collection of armor, weapons and other items that Aaron could not identify. An impressive collection, Aaron thought, until he saw his own sword! Next to it hung Lorik’s blade as well as Braden’s battle-axe. On a small table, directly underneath the display were the three satchels given to them by Dalyn, looking undisturbed, as if they still contained the articles within.

Again the hooded figure spoke in a rough, commanding voice, “Enter!”

The command would not be refused, and Aaron was forced to move into the throne room. He proceeded directly to the throne. On the large, marble chair sat the figure of a man. He was tall, perhaps seven feet in height if he stood, with ghostly pale skin. From under heavy brows, piercing blue eyes scowled at the captain as he approached the dais. The enthroned man had an air of strength and, without knowing the figure who sat there, Aaron knew that he wielded great power.

The cloaked figure that escorted Aaron into the throne room moved to one side of the throne and took up a position on the right side of the royal chair. “Kneel!” the guide spoke, and Aaron was forced to his knees. The frustration of being completely controlled by the command of his captor infuriated him. Aaron possessed exceptional willpower and determination, and he hated the thought that he could be so easily manipulated. He struggled against the one who spoke the commands, wishing to get to his sword which hung out of reach upon the wall. No matter how hard he struggled against his assailant, however, he could not free himself from the grip that held him.

“Well, Captain,” the man on the throne spoke, his voice ancient, deep, and possessed a quality that nearly beguiled Aaron into thinking the man could be trusted. “Welcome to my home.” Despite the sound of his words, the one enthroned fixed his malevolent gaze upon the captain. “So this is the great protector of Celedon,” the man mocked as he rose from his chair, “kneeling before me like a cowering dog!” A wicked laugh echoed across the hall as the tall, pale figure walked closer to Aaron. “Perhaps the master was incorrect, perhaps you’re not as dangerous as he supposed.”

Every fiber of Aaron’s body ached for freedom from the crushing grip of his captor and the captain’s mind desperately searched for a means of escape. “Who are you?” Aaron demanded. “Why have you brought us here?”

“My dear Captain”—his voice was like the distant sound of rolling thunder—“I brought you and your companions here to kill you.” He laughed a brief, evil laugh. The figure stood, towering over Aaron as he reached down and touched Aaron’s shoulder, freeing him from the invisible grip that held him down. Aaron stood and stretched the tension from his tired muscles. “Look around you, see the results of all who have crossed my domain. You might think that there is hope for you and your friends, but you will soon understand that hope has forsaken you here.”

Aaron walked along the wall with the tall man as the ancient ruler exhibited his trophies. One display housed three dwarf axes, framed against a red velvet background right next to Aaron’s own weapon. The captain guessed the weapons belonged to the three skeletons forever bound in their cell. Aaron, however, wouldn’t be frightened so easily and pressed the issue with his captor. “If you meant to kill us,” Aaron questioned, “why wait until now? You could have easily dispatched us when we were overcome by your poisonous fog. What do you want?”

“It’s not what I want that is at issue here,” said the tall, pale figure, “it is what the master wants. He has required me to take you captive, to offer you a… an opportunity,” said the tall man hesitantly.

“An opportunity for what?” asked Aaron. “It seems as if you have nothing that I desire or wish to possess that would prove to be an opportunity.”

“Ah, yes… there is one thing,” again the stranger laughed with evil malice. “I have your life.” The tall figure raised his hand slightly and Aaron felt an invisible pressure grip his throat, choking the life from him. He fell to the floor gasping to no avail, clutching his throat in vain. Then the stranger lowered his hand and Aaron could breathe again. He gasped in exhaustion, momentarily overcome with the terror of his circumstance.

“What is your offer?” Aaron panted.

“All in good time, dear captain… all in good time.” He walked back to the throne and took his position upon it. “I will return you to your two friends so you can have some time to ponder your fate. You will be sent for when it is time to discuss the master’s proposition.” The stranger waved his hand, and Aaron felt like he was hit by an ocean wave, throwing him halfway back to the door that they entered. He collapsed to the floor in a heap, amazed and dreading the power the stranger possessed. The cloaked figure, which up to this time remained motionless next to the throne, now approached Aaron as he stood up from the floor.

“Come!” the hooded guard spoke and Aaron was once more forced against his will to follow the guide. He was led out the door and back toward the cell.

As long as he didn’t fight against the power of his jailor, he found he could walk with relative ease. Hoping to find answers to the many questions that encompassed his thoughts, Aaron attempted to converse with his guide. “Tell me,” he began, “what is this place?”

Silence was all Aaron received in return.

Again he tried, “How is it that you are in this dismal region of the world? How do you survive without proper sources of food and water?”

His guide seemed unaffected by the questions and remained silent, leading him down the hall.

Once more Aaron pressed the figure with a question, “Who are you?”

This time the figure stopped, turned to Aaron and peered at him from under his cowl. “I am dead,” the strange creature replied, hoarse and melancholy.

Then Aaron’s guide drew the hood back off his head, revealing the face of a man, once regal and strong now faded, pale and worn. Upon his brow he wore a crown of gold, dim and tarnished with several jewels of various types: emeralds, rubies, and sapphires embedded in the circular adornment. He bore the look of a man bereft of life, dead yet not, real yet almost faded beyond recognition. To Aaron the man’s eyes were vacuous, sunken, and lacking any sense of focus or recognition.

“Who are you?” Aaron asked again.

“I am he who once ruled this land, the lord of this castle and caretaker of all the lands around us.” His voice carried such a note of despair Aaron could not help but grieve the circumstances of the one who stood before him. “I suffer this fate, along with all the members of my realm who now live only in mist and shadow and continue to suffer for my crime.”

Aaron could not imagine what possible crime could have sentenced a man to such a plight. “What happened… what did you do to bring this horror upon yourself?”

“I joined forces with evil against the… against the…” At this point, the creature shrieked in grief and anguish with such a pain-filled cry that Aaron fell to his knees in terror, clutching at his chest as if his own heart would burst. The sound echoed down the halls and corridors of the castle, sending the mournful sound to the very edges of the outer court. Trembling in agony, he continued, “I cannot say; the master forbids I speak the name of the vanquished one.”

“Can you not flee from this prison?” Aaron was dismayed and perplexed at the creature’s troubles.

“You do not understand! I am of this land, and from this land I cannot flee. My subjects who followed in my folly and failure are, as you saw them, the shadows and mist of the swirling fog. We are bound for all time to suffer, as are all who give themselves to the master.” The creature’s voice was one of despair as he spoke slowly, in fits of pain.

“Who is this master? Is he the one enthroned in the room we just left?” Aaron wanted to continue the dialogue, but his guide slowly pulled the cowl over his face, showing nothing but the glint of gold from the tarnished crown and again pointed down the hall. This time, however, the gripping power that forced Aaron to walk was gone and the captain could move of his own free will.

They continued silently until they reached the room where Braden and Lorik waited anxiously, still bound in chains. The creature opened the door with a slight wave of his hand, and motioned for Aaron to enter. Aaron did, looking at his guard with a new found pity. The robed figure clasped the irons onto the captain’s wrists and ankles. As he did so, he bent low to whisper, “Do not trust any gift from the master!” Turning, he glided from the room, closing the door behind him, a hideous wail echoing through the castle as the figure disappeared down the corridor.

Braden looked at the captain with deep concern. “What happened? Are you all right? Who was that terrible creature?”

Lorik drew closer to Aaron. “Captain,” he said. “You must tell us all that has happened. We heard a shriek that gripped us to the bone.”

Aaron nodded. “Give me a minute,” he said as he sank down to the floor. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms to keep warm. “Here is what I know,” he began. Braden and Lorik listened with rapt attention as he told them of the strange situation of their jailor, of the figure on the throne, the power he possessed and his allegiance to someone he called master. “I don’t know who this master is, however,” Aaron continued.

“What of this bargain?” Lorik asked. “What did he say would be the opportunity that would be offered?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron replied. “He did say that he possessed the power to destroy our lives, implying, I guess, that if we don’t take his offer, we’ll be killed.” Aaron paused for a moment. “One thing is certain, I do believe that he means to carry out the threat against us, and he wields the power to do it.”

Braden spoke up. “Captain,” he said, “in some of our ancient legends, there are stories of creatures that wielded great power and had the ability to bend the minds of the unwary. It is said when the King was overthrown, the usurper divided up Celedon and gave authority to his mighty demons that fought with him. It could be that the one enthroned here in the Waste is one of those demons. If this is true, he cannot be trusted. An ancient proverb of my people says, the one who reaches out to take an evil offer will forever be bound to evil.”

“This might be our only chance to escape this trap,” Aaron replied.

“If taking an offer from one who is evil is our only hope, then we are without hope,” Braden surmised. “I would rather die in my virtue than live a tortured life forever in debt to this villain.”

Aaron looked to Lorik. “Is this your response as well?”

“Captain,” Lorik responded, “I have followed you for many years and you are my captain, but I will not subject myself to the rule of this viper.”

Aaron was grateful for the courage of his two companions, but he did not want to miss an avenue of escape. “Perhaps, if we went along with this proposition, we can escape and make our way out of this land.”

“I can imagine that such a proposal was thought of by our mournful jailor,” Braden said. Then he glanced toward the three skeletons. “I would rather be like them than like that hooded wretch.”

“Captain,” Lorik’s voice was gentle and compassionate, “You and I both know that you cannot compromise with evil. If we agree to the bargain I’m afraid that our lives will forever be lost to the power of this place.” Lorik sighed. “Besides, if we do agree with our captors, it is quite possible that we will lose any chance of finding the Book of Aleth.”

Aaron knew in his heart that Lorik and Braden were right. There could be no compromise. Aaron looked at his sergeant. “Well, I agree with you. I think I would rather die looking for the truth than have to live a continual lie.”

Lorik nodded in agreement. “Yes, I believe that this book holds the key to understanding all that we’ve seen and I am willing to follow you to retrieve it or, if it should happen, to die in the attempt.”

Aaron looked to Braden. “Is this your thought as well?”

“Captain,” Braden said. “You are a person of destiny. I’m not about to turn aside now. And,” he continued, “I am sure that your destiny is not to end your days in this dungeon.”

Aaron smiled with gratitude. They all sat in silence, their minds anchored on the hope of escape, though it looked like there was little hope for that. His mind drifted and he imagined holding the Book of Aleth in his hands, and he feared that their captivity would prevent him ever knowing the truth. The sound of the wind echoed through the cracks and holes high in the ceiling as if they sang a mournful dirge for the captives.

Time wore on and through the broken slats above them Aaron watched stars grow steadily brighter in the evening sky. They had been in the cell with no food or water for at least a day. A sense of hopelessness crept into his thoughts as the night wore on. He drifted in and out of sleep as thirst began to take its toll. He was hungry as well, but his years of training allowed him to simply ignore the pangs that rumbled in his belly. Lorik was sound asleep as well as Braden, who tossed about with fitful dreams.

Aaron’s bones ached as he shivered against the cold stone, though they huddled together to conserve whatever warmth they could. Deep into the night, as darkness filled their frigid cell, the door opened and the hooded figure that had first come to them stood silhouetted against the dim light of the hall. The jailor moved into the chamber and stood silent as he peered down upon the three lying on the floor.

Aaron could see the glint of gold encircling the brow of the stranger but no other facial features were visible under the heavy cowl. “Come!” the figure commanded and Aaron knew that it was time to hear the opportunity that would be offered. His chains fell from his ankles and wrists and Aaron was free to move on his own, no power was used against him.

He slowly stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and massaging his arms and legs to work out the stiffness in his joints. He shivered in the cold cell and felt weak from dehydration. With staggered steps he followed his guide into the hall. He was led down the same corridor, to the same double-doors, and entered into the same extravagant room which housed the raised throne. Upon the throne, the tall, pale man sat waiting for Aaron’s arrival.

“Ah, Captain,” the ruler spoke. “I see you have returned.” The tall man stood from the throne while Aaron’s guide took up his position to the right of the dais.

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Aaron voice cracked with thirst.

“You’re right, of course. But there is no reason we cannot be hospitable to one another while we converse about your future.” The tall stranger’s tone dripped with confidence.

“You speak of hospitality, yet we go without food and water,” Aaron protested.

“Oh, but Captain,” the tall ruler replied, “I want you dead. I thought that allowing you to live would have been hospitality enough.”

Aaron didn’t feel at all that he wanted to banter words with his captor, and his sense of diplomacy was lost upon his thirst. “You said you had an opportunity for me. What would that be?”

“No Captain,” the other said, “I said I wanted to kill you.” He laughed briefly and then continued. “It is my master who wants to offer you an opportunity, not I. But I will obey his will and speak his opportunity to you.”

“Well, speak it!” Aaron demanded.

“Very well, my impatient guest, I will give you his words. My master wants to offer you an opportunity to leave all that you have undertaken and return to your city. He will allow you to resume your position as captain, with a view to becoming commander of the Royal Guard.”

Aaron was shocked at the offer. “Only the emperor can make such an offer! Are you telling me that your master is the Emperor of Celedon?”

“I’m not telling you anything of the sort. My master is who he is and he has power to provide you the position that I’ve spoken to you… and power for much more. He is very liberal with his generosity to all who submit to his will and he is very hard to those who oppose him.”

“What does he want from me? What do I have to do to merit such generosity?” Aaron still couldn’t believe that the offer was genuine.

“Just as I said—leave behind this pursuit of yours. You are chasing the Book of Aleth, and my master simply wants you to leave this search behind and go back to the life you had… maybe even a better life.” The tall lord uttered his words with the eloquence of a master orator. “My master knows that you have doubts about all that has been told you and that you are seeking some answers; there are none to find. Your quest is only taking you on hard roads that will leave you in greater despair and ultimately ruin your life. He is giving you a chance to forsake destruction and return to the life you once had.”

Aaron thought about what was told him. As he stood there, weak with thirst, the tall figure took him toward the satchels waiting on the table beneath his sword. “Take a drink of water, captain. There is no reason for you to suffer needlessly.” He reached into the bag and retrieved a leather flask, handing it to the captain. Again the tall figure reached into the satchel and pulled out two more of the leather containers. “Drink, and take some to your companions.”

Aaron, then, thought about Lorik and Braden. They would not follow him if he chose the road that was offered. He drank deeply from the water flask; the cool water flowed across his parched lips and down his throat like a refreshing stream. He then reached for the other two, holding them as if he held treasures greater than gold. He looked at the tall, thin figure that stood over him. “What of my two companions? Will they benefit according to my choice?” Aaron didn’t want to reveal any of his thoughts.

“Unfortunately, Captain,” the tall man said with a wry smile, “their fate is given to me. Your choice will be for you alone.” The tall ruler paused for a moment. “To show you the sincerity of my master… if you choose to take his offer of freedom, and can convince your companions to do the same, I will grant you their lives. You will have power over them, and they will be yours to do with as you will.” He then raised his bony arm and waved his hand slightly in the air. “There,” he said, “Your friends have been released from their bonds. Go back to them and think about the opportunity that has been given you.” He turned back toward the throne and sat down again upon it. “Think about this, as well, Captain”— the tall man’s voice became hard and cold—“you only have one choice, and one chance. Your decision will be final.” With a glance, the door opened behind them, leading to the hall beyond. “I will send for you to hear your final decision.”

Aaron left the audience chamber, escorted by the hooded man. He walked along the corridor in silence, pondering his fate as well as the fate of his two friends. A few minutes later he found himself by the door to his cell. It opened and Lorik and Braden paced around the room freed from the restraints of the shackles. Aaron sighed with relief to see that his friends were unfettered. Entering, he quickly gave them each a flask of water which they took without delay. They gulped and gasped as they drank the cool liquid, while Aaron wondered if it would be the last refreshing thing they’d ever receive.

“Captain,” spoke Lorik, “what was the offer?”

Aaron hesitated, reluctant even to speak of the choices before him. He looked at his two companions and considered how far they had traveled together… especially Lorik. The idea of them being given to the hands of the madman who sat in the throne room was more than Aaron could handle.

Lorik fixed his eyes on Aaron with a determined gaze. “Captain, I can see you’re troubled. I’ve known you too long not to know when you’re trying to protect the men you command. Don’t hold back what was spoken to you. We’ve been through too much now for you to try and manage this situation alone.”

Aaron glanced at Lorik, knowing that he would never agree to the terms that would spare their lives, knowing that he would die at the hand of the tall stranger. He sat down on the cold, stone floor while Braden and Lorik stood vigil near him. Aaron despaired of what would happen, believing that all roads, now, would lead to eventual ruin. “I’ve been offered a chance to return to my old life and regain my position with the guard.”

Lorik gave a questioning glance. “Sir,” he said, “what was asked of you in return?”

Aaron spoke with hesitation. “All I have to do is… is to give up our pursuit of this book and leave behind all that we’ve set out to do.” Aaron gazed at his two friends. “There’s more. If you are willing to come with me, then your lives will be spared. Otherwise, I’ve been told, you would become as those three over there,” he said as he pointed to the skeletal remains of the three dwarves. Aaron found it desperately ironic that he had made a similar offer to the man he pursued to North Village—give up the book and live, or keep the book and die.

Braden and Lorik both sat down next to Aaron as he sipped from the water flask. “Captain,” Braden spoke first, “for two centuries I was marked as a coward and set to live out my days in captivity. I won’t withdraw from the hunt! The Book of Aleth must be recovered, and I won’t stop until it is. It would truly be cowardly if I took the gift of the enemy just to spare my own life. We would never be free if we bind ourselves to that which is evil.”

“I agree with Braden, sir,” Lorik said. “I told you before that I have made my choice. I believe that Celedon has been deceived and that somehow the emperor is behind it. This Book of Aleth is the key to the truth, and I have set my heart to find it. If I die because I made this choice, then I die knowing that it was the right one.”

Aaron knew his own choice was clear. He had already gone too far and seen too much to shrink back and give in to the temptation offered him. Although the warning of his cloaked guard echoed in his thoughts as well, Aaron didn’t want to align himself with what was evil. In his heart he knew his course. With his will cemented, he looked at his two companions with a renewed sense of purpose. He would find the book and learn the truth or die in the attempt.

“Have you made a decision, Captain?” Lorik asked.

Before Aaron could answer, the door swung open, and the hooded figure entered again, this time, however he was carrying something hidden in the folds of his robe. The figure motioned to the three sitting on the floor. “Come…come quickly!” His tone conveyed an urgency that bordered on panic.

“What,” Aaron said, “come where?”

“There is no time for questions—you must come with me now!” protested the strange figure. “I have secured some of your belongings and will lead you to the main gate. From there you must proceed south through the Waste and leave this land forever.” Without another word, the hooded figure started down the dark hall leading to the throne room. The three companions chased after him, following close behind their guide. Aaron drew alongside and tried to match pace with the long strides of the one leading them.

“What are you doing? Why?” Aaron asked.

“No questions,” the hooded figure commanded. “This is your only chance of escape. The lord of this castle is in repose and will not summon you to return to his chambers until tomorrow. You must leave, and leave quickly. Do not stop for rest by day or night until you have crossed the border of this realm. If he discovers you’re missing before you are free from his influence, you will have no other opportunity.” They continued walking, drawing to the door that entered the throne room and turned right, following the passageway that Aaron had seen before.

The hall was clean, free of debris and dust, well lit, with torches along the wall spaced several feet apart. It was long, but very straight, and Aaron could see a large door at the end. As they approached he could see it, too, was ornately designed, carved with exquisite scenes of nature. Through it the four of them passed and entered into a large courtyard that separated the main building from the outer wall. Aaron, Braden, and Lorik all had to run to keep up with their guide moving swiftly across the yard. Aaron could see maybe fifty paces ahead of them the large, reinforced gate. It was operated by two massive pulleys which lifted the gate with strong, iron chains. They didn’t, however, try to raise the barrier, but turned to the left side of the structure and stood, as it appeared, in front of a solid stone wall.

The hooded figure extended his hand from the folds of his robe and, with a slight wave, a door made of solid stone opened. He led them through the small exit and beyond the exterior wall. Outside the castle, free from the confines that held them, Braden and Lorik stood breathless in their haste. Aaron looked at their guide with amazed wonder. Winded for the effort, he took several deep breaths to try and regain some stamina.

“Why are you doing this?” Aaron asked.

The robed figure paused and looked down at Aaron. “I know who you are, protector,” the figure began. “I betrayed you and the King a millennia ago and handed your life to my master. Now, at the turn of the age, I have the chance to redeem my failure and, perhaps, make some small repair to the damage I’ve caused.”

Aaron frowned, perplexed at the archaic references and how they applied to him. “I’ve not been around that long,” he said. “The only harm you’ve done me is to take me and my companion’s captive in this place. I don’t understand.”

“And there’s no time to explain,” the strange figure spoke. “Suffice it to say that, ages ago, I gave my allegiance to the master. In exchange I was offered power beyond my limited understanding. If only I knew then what it was I chose, if only I knew what I had done!” The figure stopped momentarily, languishing in his grief. He then gazed at the three who stood before him. “Perhaps, I have made some amends for my betrayal by giving you this chance of escape.” He reached inside the folds of his robe and drew out one of their satchels, handing it to Aaron. Inside the bag Aaron saw several wraps of provisions including the Terapan leaves given to them by Dalyn. “I couldn’t risk bringing all the items, but these should be sufficient to the edge of the Waste. Now, go! Don’t delay for you have only a marginal chance, and haste is of the essence.” The cloaked figure turned again and began to glide back through the castle wall.

Braden, however, stopped momentarily and turned back toward the castle. Lorik and Aaron watched as Braden went to where the robed figure stood in the doorway. “Who are you?” asked the dwarf. “What is your name?”

The robed figure stood, silhouetted in the moonlight, the glint of gold reflecting the silver moon. “I was once called Mellenden the High-Born, close counselor and friend to the King of Celedon.”

Braden gasped in horror. Then the robed figure vanished and the door disappeared, becoming nothing but a stone wall.

The night was still early, and with many miles to go Aaron handed the pack to Lorik who took it gladly. The three companions turned away from the castle wall to descend the southern side of the hill. The moon was full, shining its brilliance across the countryside and providing much needed light for their journey. Aaron hoped their benefactor had the power to control the specters that swirled in the Waste, and their journey would not be hindered by the ever-shifting landscape.

The way south was relatively easy as they meandered and jogged down the slope leading away from the castle. It wasn’t long before they found themselves off the hillside and stepping as swiftly as possible through the dank, misty bogs, eager to reach the southern border.