CHAPTER

16

The dreams had come every night, but this night, Nathaniel sensed they were different. As the world shifted and took shape around him, he felt a greater awareness to its movements, its textures, sounds, and tastes. The ground beneath him was hard and black, as if burned by a great fire. The sky above was a massive blanket of stars, with not a single cloud to mar the image. Wind blew from the west, sticky and hot like the breath of a giant beast. Spinning about, he saw only barren wasteland, no trees, no grass, no homes or walls or signs of life. Amid it all, a rumble shook the land ever so slightly. It was the growl of a lion, of such size Veldaren was but a flea compared to a single claw on its paw.

The time approaches, spoke a voice like thunder. Panic spiked through Nathaniel’s chest, and despite spinning on his feet, he could not find the speaker. The dreams, no one had spoken to him through the dreams since… since…

“Since you asked how you might serve,” said another voice, deep, powerful, and directly behind him. Nathaniel spun, and his jaw dropped as he stared up at the enormous man. He wore black plate mail, and strapped to his side was a gigantic sword. He was unquestionably handsome, short hair a deep brown, skin like bronze, jaw square and firm. Emblazoned across his chest piece was a roaring lion reared up for battle, stunning in its minute detail. With every movement the light shifted, making it seem like the lion’s fur blew in the wind.

“Who are you?” Nathaniel dared ask.

“You know my name, yet you ask anyway,” said the stranger to his dreams. “Why do you not trust what you know to be true?”

Nathaniel swallowed, throat so dry he had to fight down a cough. The man’s eyes… there were stars shifting within the eyes, spinning, twinkling…

“Karak,” he whispered. “You are Karak.”

The god smiled.

“I am, child. Come. Sit with me. We do not have much time.”

Nathaniel was about to ask where they might sit when a slab of stone tore up from the cracked ground, dirt slaking off it. Its surface was wide and impossibly smooth, and when Nathaniel put his hand on it to climb atop, he was surprised by the chill it had despite having just come from beneath the ground. Granted, he was in a dreaming land, so why should he expect it to make sense?

Karak sat down beside him, and he lifted his divine gaze to the heavens.

“It’s peaceful here,” he said.

Nathaniel looked about the wasteland, held back a shiver.

“It’s so empty,” he said.

“Aye, it is. But when you look up at the stars, child, does it matter? Stare at their beauty, and then let your ears listen, and your heart feel across the void. Do you sense it? No neighbors curse one another. No man seeks to take what belongs to his friends. No woman seeks to poison her enemies. There is no hunger. No suffering. Close your eyes, and feel the comfort that comes from belonging in a place of proper Order, a place free of chaos, pain, and sadness.”

It felt as if the world were glassing over. Nathaniel stared at the stars, seeing them for the first time, and not just them, but things shimmering behind the stars, colors and shapes and whole worlds beyond his understanding. His awareness expanded, and for the briefest moment he felt himself one of thousands, in a land full of men and women soaking in the beauty of the heavens, without need for sleep, or food, or warmth. No movement, no drawn breaths, just statues of thought and wonder. In the soft silence, Nathaniel felt the faintest touch of that peace Karak offered, a place without fear or doubt or failure. In that tide of humanity, he was like all others, neither greater nor worse. His future responsibilities weighed nothing, for no longer did faceless, nameless men and women circle his family like vultures, seeking to tear away everything that might be his. A painless existence. A hateless future lost in the void of an eternity that stretched on and on, promising something new with each shift of the sun.

“This is what you want?” he asked. Before his eyes the stars whirled past, as if he were hurtling into the deep black skies, and lost in wonder, he watched a swirling nebula of red collapsing into a burning yellow orb of such a size he could never comprehend.

“It is,” Karak said. “Life leads to sin. Humans are broken, their failure inevitable, their flaws built into the very core of their souls. There will be no perfection, not in their current forms. I merely seek to offer them the closest resemblance they might ever achieve before the collapsing of the days. To do that I need your help, child.”

“My help?” Nathaniel asked, and he felt himself pulled back down to the blasted heath, and to the god sitting beside him. The fields of men and women were gone, and he wondered if he’d ever truly seen them. “Why do you need my help?”

“Because I am imprisoned,” Karak said. “There are cracks, tiny and fleeting, that my strength might slip through, and to my faithful I deliver all the power I can. Through servants I must act, Nathaniel, through the faithful and the brave. One such servant comes for Veldaren, and you must help him. I catch glimpses of the future through my prison, and I see the importance you will play, if you would only obey.”

It seemed so strange to be asked to carry such a mantle. Karak was a god. He could surely see how young he was, how frightened and helpless. What could he possibly do? But as another warm wind blew, he glanced to the stars, and in them he saw moons dancing, saw giant orbs each surrounded by a dozen rings that revolved in perfect synchronization. Breathtaking, truly breathtaking.

“What must I do?” he asked.

Karak’s giant hand settled onto his shoulder.

“The gems of the chrysarium,” he said. “You must find them, and keep them close. They once adorned the hem of my cloak when I walked the land of Dezrel centuries ago, and my power still dwells within them. They will keep you safe, and should you cry out my name in faith, they will strike down those who would do you harm. Do you understand?”

Nathaniel nodded.

“I do,” he said.

“Good. Now wake, child. Your life is in danger.”

Nathaniel’s eyes snapped open, and despite the depths of his dreaming, he felt wide-awake. Scanning the darkness of his room, he saw nothing, heard no one, but there was no denying the pounding of his heart in his chest, nor the warning Karak had offered.

The chrysarium, he thought. As he slid from his bed, he felt certain he must find it, the collection of gems the most important thing in all the world for him to protect. But where was it? It’d belonged to his grandmother, so where might it have been put? In her room? Padding across the carpet to the door, he paused, hand on the knob, and felt paralyzed by indecision. He must find it, he knew he must find it, but where?

An idea came to him, and it felt troubling to even consider it, but what else was there? Doing his best to remember the way his grandmother had prayed, he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and whispered the words.

“Karak… I am your servant. If… if you would, if my dream wasn’t just a dream, then show me where it is.”

Nathaniel jerked backward as if a needle had stabbed his forehead. For the briefest moment he felt he could not breathe, and flooding the space before his eyes he saw flashes of images: Victor stumbling to Melody’s dead body, her fingers curled about the chrysarium, her blood leaking over it—then Victor taking it from her—then Zusa demanding it be destroyed, her voice warbling and distant. The last image was of Victor promising his mother she would never see it again.

As suddenly as they’d come, the images vanished, and Nathaniel let out a gasp as he recovered.

Victor’s room, he thought, and he felt so certain he might as well have been the one to put it there. Given how they’d yet to bury him, they’d not decided what to do with his possessions. Pulling open the door, Nathaniel stepped outside, and was immediately stopped by the guard positioned there.

“Whoa there, little master,” said the guard, a friendly man named Argus who’d been guarding his room for the past several nights. “What are you up to at so late an hour?”

Again he felt a moment of panic. No one could know of the chrysarium. He knew that as he knew the sun was yellow. But what excuse could he use to wander the mansion unescorted?

“I’m hungry.”

Argus lifted an eyebrow.

“You’re hungry?”

It felt like such a lame excuse, but Nathaniel nodded anyway.

“I just wanted a snack from the kitchen, that’s all.”

The tall man shrugged.

“I probably shouldn’t, but I’ll tell no one if you don’t,” he said. “You’re not going alone, though. Follow me.”

As the guard led the way, Nathaniel felt his mind at odds with itself.

Tell him, he thought. Warn him you’re in danger!

But to do that would mean explaining himself. That would lead to questions, perhaps losing the chrysarium, and he felt a gut panic at the idea of his mother’s learning of his dreams of Karak. Fear paralyzed his tongue, and fear kept his feet moving. Maybe if he got there quickly, everything would be fine. Maybe simply leaving his room would save him from whoever would dare break into their mansion.

But what about Mother? asked his pounding heart. She’s in danger, too!

Karak’s face flashed before his eyes, that peaceful smile, but accompanying it was the earth-shattering growl of the lion. He felt it in his belly, felt it rattle his bones, and he pulled his arm across his chest, clutched the stump of his other arm, and shivered.

“You need a blanket or a robe?” Argus asked, keeping his voice low as they turned a corner. “I’m hot as the Abyss, but I’ve got all this armor, so it’s not right for me to judge.”

Nathaniel’s teeth chattered, just once before he could clench his jaw tight.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he offered no further explanation beyond that. They were just passing by the door to Victor’s room, and it cried out to him like a wailing child.

“Wait,” he said, halting. Argus took another step, then turned about, confused.

“This is hardly the kitchen,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Nathaniel’s fingers drummed across the stump of his arm. What to do? Lie? Pretend he had some sort of authority and demand to be left alone? Swallowing down a growing lump in his throat, he decided to appeal in the only way he knew: with honesty.

“I… I need something from Victor’s room,” he said.

“Do you now? Should I ask what it might be?”

“No, you shouldn’t. And I don’t want you telling my mother, either. This is really important.”

Argus frowned, and Nathaniel endured his stare as he waited for the man to reach a decision.

“You just want in and out?” he asked.

Nathaniel nodded, earning himself a sigh.

“Fine. I’ll wait out here. Just make it fast, all right?”

Nathaniel barged through the door without acknowledging him, his head pounding with urgency. Victor’s old room was incredibly dark, and stumbling to the opposite side, where he saw the vague outline of the curtains, he opened them fully so he might see by the strong moonlight. So strange, he thought. Everything was neat and tidy, and belonged to a man who mere hours ago had been alive, and a new member of his family. Nathaniel hadn’t even figured out how he felt about having Victor as a new father before the man had died. Deep down, he couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse.

“Where are you?” Nathaniel wondered aloud as he searched. The bed had been stripped of sheets and not remade, the only visible acknowledgment of Victor’s passing. The stand for his armor was empty, for he’d died wearing it. At the foot of his bed was a chest, and when Nathaniel put his hand on its side he felt a surge of electricity spike from his fingertips to his shoulder. When he opened the lid, he was disappointed to see it largely empty, and containing only meager things: belts, cuffs, books, and a razor for shaving.

Hurry up, he thought, fighting down panic. It had to be somewhere in the room. It had to be, why else would Karak have shown him Victor taking it?

The gems were valuable, he realized, and it felt strange, for it seemed the thought was not his own, but someone else’s lingering in his mind. What do you do with valuable things?

“Hide them,” Nathaniel mumbled. Somewhere easy to access, merely out of the way and safe from the prying eyes of servants who might be tempted to pocket them. Under the bed wouldn’t work, for they’d be found when the floor was swept. Same went for the sheets, the mattress, and the pillows. A glance into the closet revealed it barren but for a few changes of clothes and an extra pair of boots.

Hidden… hidden… where could they be hidden?

Two soft knocks sounded from the door.

“I’m getting nervous out here,” Argus said softly from the other side. “Whatever you’re doing, make it quick.”

Nathaniel returned to the chest, and he dropped to his knees before it. He’d felt so certain it was inside…

Leaning in closer, he put his hand on the interior of the lid, feeling. There was a give to it, not much, but noticeable. Sliding his fingers around the edge, he found a slight groove. Nathaniel grinned. There. He pushed his finger in and then pulled. The false lid popped free, and tucked neatly into the hollow was the chrysarium, with the nine gems pooled atop it.

Just the gems, Nathaniel thought, again with that strange feeling that the idea was not quite his own. Taking out the chrysarium, he set it on the floor, put a foot atop the plate, and then one by one yanked the gems free, easily breaking the thin silver chains that held them. Once finished, he replaced the silver plate in the false lid, shut it, and closed the chest. Nathaniel turned his attention to the nine gems, scooping them one by one into his hand. There’d be no way to hide them from Argus, not when they were bulging from his fingers like that. Bribing the guard would be equally futile. Instead he sat on the bed, placed the gems on his stomach, and then wrapped them in his shirt. Argus would know he was carrying something, but that was already a given. What he carried was all that mattered, and so long as the guard did not know, Nathaniel felt certain he’d be safe from the man’s telling his mother.

Returning to the door, he paused, then tapped his elbow against it.

“My hand is full,” he whispered.

Argus opened the door for him, and he looked none too pleased.

“Got what you wanted?” he asked, glancing at the wrapped bundle made of his bunched shirt. When Nathaniel nodded, the guard shook his head. “I take it you’re not actually hungry, are you? Come on then. Back to your room, before anyone gets worried.”

Together they padded down the hall, Nathaniel lingering slightly behind his escort. His heart was still pounding, and despite holding the gems of the chrysarium, he felt no safer than before. When they turned the corner to see two hooded men creeping open the door to his room, Nathaniel’s first reaction was not horror, but relief that he’d not lost his mind, and Karak had truly given him warning.

“Intruders!” Argus screamed, drawing his sword. “All men, inside, intruders!”

Each of the men wielded long daggers, and the first rushed toward Argus while the second dashed inside, no doubt hoping Nathaniel was still in his bed. Argus stood his ground, blocking the hallway, sword clutched tightly in both hands.

“Run, Nathan,” he said. “Fast as you can, now run!”

Nathaniel stepped backward, unable to take his eyes off the two combatants. The hooded man also wore a long coat, and sewn onto its breast was a four-pointed star. His daggers gleamed in the meager light as he whipped them back and forth, hammering them into Argus’s sword. To the guard’s credit, he did not balk at such speed, nor did he let the quicker man guide the combat. John Gandrem had often talked about the advantages of having the longer weapon, plus that of heavier mail, and Argus used both well, willing to let some of the weaker hits through so that he might attempt his own killing thrusts or cuts.

Several times Nathaniel saw a dagger rake the armor, doing little but scratching the plate. Argus’s sword cut through coat and cloth twice, using high, slanted chops to limit how much his foe could dodge in the hallway. Nathaniel dared think Argus might win, but then the other hooded man came racing out of Nathaniel’s bedroom. Two against one… could Argus endure such odds?

The instinct to run pulsed inside him, but Karak’s words echoed in his mind, devouring his fear.

Cry out my name in faith…

Unraveling his bunched shirt, he let the gems fall into his hand, and upon their touching his skin he saw hints of light glowing from their centers. Closing his fingers, Nathaniel turned his attention back to Argus. The man was bleeding from cuts on his hands and face, and he was steadily retreating against the combined onslaught. The guard spared a glance over his shoulder only once, and seeing Nathaniel still standing there, his eyes bulged.

“You dumb shit!” he yelled. “Run!”

Before Nathaniel could do something, not that he knew what that something was, Argus suddenly rushed forward, showing no care for the daggers, no fear for his own life. The cuts came in, slender blades stabbing through the creases of his armor, but at last Argus scored a hit of his own. His long sword came crashing down on the shoulder of one of the men, smashing through bone and slicing to the ribs. As he died, the other hooded man plunged his dagger again and again into Argus’s side, blood pouring through the underpadding.

Argus collapsed, and twirling his dagger, the remaining intruder stepped over his prone body toward Nathaniel.

“Thanks for not running,” the man said. “It’ll save us both a lot of trouble.”

Hand shaking, Nathaniel stared into the shadow of the hood and did his best to hide his fear.

“Another step, and you’ll die,” he said.

The man laughed, then dashed forward, dagger thrusting for Nathaniel’s stomach. With confidence that stunned even himself, Nathaniel outstretched his hand, the various gems clutched tightly between his fingers, and let out a cry that would have seemed insane to him six months prior.

“Karak!”

The gems flared with life. Before the hooded man could cross the distance, a beam of fire burst forth from their combined center. It struck him square in the chest, slamming him to a halt. The fire surged through his clothes, as if melting into him, then spread. It crawled across his skin like liquid, a steady, inevitable creep. He could not scream, his lungs were so quickly consumed. The coat, his clothes, his flesh: it all burned. As Nathaniel struggled to stand against the steady force pushing against his arm, the power of the gems flared once more, then faded. Of his would-be killer, only the two daggers remained, even his bones consumed. The weapons hit the carpet with soft thuds, but Nathaniel barely saw them. His mind was far away, lost in a powerful flood of emotions.

Power. Pleasure. Elation. They’d all surged through him, and for once, he was not slave to his protectors and his nightmares.

Snapping out of it, he rushed to Argus, who was still alive despite his wounds.

“What…?” Argus asked, coughing. “What the bloody Abyss was that?”

“Nothing,” Nathaniel said, feeling the gems warm in his hand. Staring into the guard’s eyes, he let Karak’s power flow. “There was only one assassin, and you killed him. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Argus said. “Just one, and I killed the son of a bitch.”

Nathaniel smiled at him.

“That you did.”

Cries of alarm were sounding all throughout the mansion, and Nathaniel knew he had seconds to act. Before anyone else might arrive, he rushed through the open door of his room, hurled the gems of the chrysarium beneath his bed, and then returned to Argus’s side. Zusa arrived only moments later, coming from his mother’s room farther down the hall.

“Are you all right?” she asked. She wielded daggers in each hand, and fresh blood dripped from their blades.

“He needs help,” Nathaniel said, putting his hand on Argus’s shoulder. “He saved me.”

Argus tried to smile, but the pain and blood loss were too much, and he slipped into unconsciousness. Zusa shouted for others to come, then put her hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder.

“Go to Alyssa,” she told him. “Get to where it’s safe.”

He obeyed, and when he entered his mother’s room, which was rapidly filling up with soldiers, she flung her arms around him.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said, holding him tightly against her.

“I’m fine,” Nathaniel whispered, and despite everything, he felt perfectly calm. “Really, I am.”

She wouldn’t understand, of course, and as she planted kisses on his cheek, he let his mind wander to the gems. Waiting for him. Protecting him.

“We’re safe,” he told her, voice soft but firm. “We’re safe, I promise.”

The freedom was invigorating, and a terrible weight left his heart. His family was no longer at the mercy of the underworld and all its cruel masters, for it was safe in Karak’s strong hands.