The Silver Arrow (24 page)

As Iseac tried to stop himself
from falling, an invisible band clasped his hands and feet, holding
him in place. He looked up from the slick, salty-colored looking
floor to see the two men with their faces hiding in the cowl of
their cloaks. The room would have been bright were it not for the
patches of gray on the walls. Apparently they had being watching
him the whole time.

Iseac watched as one of the
figures approached with his hand still locked in place, unable to
move. He recognized the red ring on the figure’s finger and knew
right away who it was. He was the man who was going to end Elena’s
life in front of him. As the man moved his hands up, Iseac’s own
arm went up in unison until his shoes barely touched the floor.

Iseac stared into the cowl of
the former Patron’s hood as he walked toward him, not intimidated
as he held on tightly to the anger burning inside him.

The man moved close to Iseac
and then slowly walked around, stopping behind him. With his lips
next to Iseac’s ear, he said in a cold whisper, “I hope you are as
strong as your predecessors.”

As those words left his lips, a
sudden chill ran down Iseac’s spine and his eyes suddenly bulged
from the Patron’s touch. A sharp pain burrowed into his skull and
he began to convulse. With each violent shake, a web of red veins
began to form along the edges of his eyes just before they rolled
in the back of his head. His head suddenly dropped down, the pain
knocking him unconscious.

Satisfied with his result, the
former Patron released his grip around Iseac’s neck. He took in a
deep breath, shifting his shoulder in and out as he exhaled,
appearing to have drawn strength from Iseac. A drop of blood slid
down Iseac’s nose as the Patron released his hold, letting Iseac’s
limp body drop to the ground.

“As long as he’s alive, we
should be able to find them,” the former Patron said to his
companion, who walked over to check on Iseac. “Get the men
together,” the former Patron instructed.

His companion nodded his head
in response and began making his way to the door when his name was
called.

“Rogan.” The man stopped. “I
will be joining you and the men this time, and send one of the
guards to get him,” the former Patron said.

“It shall be done,” Rogan
replied.

**************

When Iseac regained
consciousness, he was lying on his back. He squeezed his eyes and
blinked several times to clear his vision. His head throbbed and he
felt as if he’d been trodden underfoot by a herd of cattle.
Disoriented and not thinking straight, Iseac tried to sit up. Every
part of his body fought against it, and he lost consciousness and
dropped to the floor.

When he opened his eyes the
next day, he was still weak, but not as before, and his mind was
somewhat clear. As he sat up, his body reminded him that all was
not well. The pain in his head was now a dull ache. He gingerly
placed his hand at the back of his neck to assess the damage he’d
received at the hands of the former Patron. He rubbed his hand
gently against his skin; it felt stiff and bruised, but the skin
wasn’t broken. He looked at his fingers−there was no blood.

Knowing this did not make any
difference in the way he felt. He remembered the Patron’s touch at
the back of his neck and the intense pain, as if someone was
drilling a hole in his skull. While he was glad to be alive,
something was amiss. He was being held in his original cell. The
place was quiet and empty of his neighboring cellmates, which meant
they were either working or being fed. While Iseac was thinking
about what they may have done to him, he remembered: Elena!

That thought wiped out every
other concern. He needed to find her; he had to make sure she was
okay.

Getting down on one knee, he
placed his hand on the floor. He recited a few words and gained
sight beyond his cell. Just as it began, it was drawn somewhere
else and winked out. He tried again, and the same thing happened.
He began to panic. For the first time, Iseac truly felt afraid.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to clear his mind,
concentrating on his core.

Everything around him faded
away like a fog dispelled by the sun. The damp cave wall, the
choking smell of smoke and dirt, and everything around him seemed
distant.

He was at the heart of his
core, feeling every connection in his mind. At first everything
appeared normal, but as he dug deeper, he began to see what had
been done to him. New webs were rooted into the edges of his
mind—not his own, but a taint that was now part of him. He did not
understand how it was possible, but now he knew the reason why he
felt different and unable to concentrate.

Still puzzled by his discovery,
Iseac felt a prickling in his mind and a different fear came over
him. A surge of silver light rushed toward his core, enveloping his
thoughts before he could retreat. The energy was like a lightning
bolt, and inside it stood a young man. Iseac squinted, shielding
his vision to peer at the figure in his core.

He recognized the face as it
turned to look at him. It was Samuel. The figure did not see him,
but he could sense Samuel felt his presence, like the last time
they met in Chartum-Valley.

Iseac opened his eyes, shocked
and amazed that such powers were able to penetrate his core,
allowing him a glimpse of an event that was happening. “Samuel!” he
muttered. It couldn’t be…but it was, and hope once again lit up
inside him.

At Mount Va’lenna, it was dark
outside and the cool evening breeze stilled the air as a young man
stepped out of Rod Stone temple.

“Samuel!” a familiar voice
called. He turned to see Mosley walking toward him, and he smiled
as he approached.

“It is good to see you well and
alive,” Mosley said.

“It is good to see you, too,”
Samuel replied, bowing his head.

“Where is Iseac?” Samuel
asked.

“He was taken captive before we
could reach him.” Mosley’s tone reflected his disappointment.
“After you left…” he began, and went on to narrate all that had
transpired after Samuel rode off into the woods. He also told him
about the Agoras that were captured as they tried to flee the
scene. The Agoras were being held for questioning.

“What about you?” Mosley asked.
“We heard that you made it safely to Gabram.”

“Yes.” Samuel told him about
his encounter with the Golans, how he had narrowly escaped with his
life, and how lucky he was to have found a ship heading directly
from Lufgard to Bremah, where Gabram was waiting for him.

“The gods must be with you,”
Mosley said, since ships rarely go directly from Lufgard to Bremah.
“I’m glad the Patron got the message before you arrived…come with
me. There is someone I would like you to meet.” He placed a hand on
Samuel’s shoulder and led him to the Ackalans’ quarters, which was
a building to the left of the temple on the opposite side of the
stable.

Inside the Ackalans’ quarters
was a straight hallway that went through three rooms. The first
room had rows of benches and tables; it was the dining area. The
Ackalans who were eating at the tables gave them a quick glance
before turning their attention back to their food. As they made
their way past the second room, Samuel could see rows of mats and
pillows. Some of the beds were being used by Ackalans who had
traveled there as escorts to the Patrons who came for his
unlocking. No one appeared to be paying them any attention, but if
you looked closer, you would see that each man’s weapon was as good
as drawn, with how close it rested by their beds.

The last room had two doors on
opposite ends of the wall; in the middle of this room was an
oval-shaped altar that was wide enough to accommodate four
people.

Two men were looking over
something on top of it. As soon as Samuel and Mosely approached the
third entrance, the men turned to face them.

“Ashra,” Mosley said. “I would
like you to meet Samuel from Chartum-Valley.”

The man standing in front of
him was tall with broad shoulders. His eyes were dark brown with
the silver rings that were common with all Ackalans. Along his
chiseled face hung two single braids and his muscular form was well
defined underneath his clothes.

“It is nice to meet you, Samuel
of Chartum-Valley.
Kru haya no-nah
. “I’m Tremay. This
is Hildra, my second in command.”

Hildra, an older man with more
gray than black in his hair, nodded in the same manner as
Tremay.

“We first received word over a
year ago of a occurrence similar to what happened to your people in
Chartum-Valley,” Tremay said. “The people in a small village
suddenly disappeared without a trace.

“Rumor back then was that the
villagers were cursed, since no one had a rational explanation.
Since then, there has been a steady rise of these unexplained
disappearances and without any witnesses—at least, until you.

“The disappearances, from what
we’ve gathered so far, have been random, from small villages to
large ones with population of over two thousand. We do see a
pattern. They are moving closer to bigger towns like yours.”

“While their actions may appear
random,” Samuel said, “I believe they are searching for the same
people as the Anamerian, which was why they were in Chartum-Valley
and why they captured Iseac. The Anamerian is important in all of
this, and that is why I leave tonight to begin my search for
him.”

If they were impressed by
Samuel’s confidence, none of them showed it. Mosley looked at him,
not sure if he was the same scared, unsure young man he met just
over a year ago. Now he spoke with the confidence of a warrior.

“We were asked to go with you
when you are ready, and we have been waiting,” Tremay said. “The
Patrons asked that we share this information with you.” Tremay
turned to the table, where there was an open map of the four
Kingdoms. He pointed to an area south of Po’trema on the map.

“From the information Adal was
able to gather from the Agoras, we believe the Anamerian might be
held here,” he said, his finger close to Amito-Mountain. The land
of the sun, Samuel thought.

Samuel nodded his head several
times as Tremay spoke about the surrounding area. The wasteland was
a perfect site, with weather so harsh and unforgiving no one who
escaped could survive. However, what caught Samuel’s attention, and
reaffirmed the Patron’s suggestion, was what Tremay said about the
mountain pass: rumors of monstrous creatures possessing, killing,
or snatching people at night.

If this was really happening,
Samuel thought, then the scale of the world has truly been tipped
and this kind of event is a result of an imbalance in all
things.

“Ashra,” Samuel asked, “how
long will it take your men to be ready?”

“Ten minutes,” Tremay said.

“Good…we leave tonight, and I
need to prepare. Peace and prosperity, Ashra.” Samuel said in the
old tongue as he bowed his head.

Impressed by his use of the old
tongue, which very few knew, Tremay responded in the same manner
before they left to make preparations.

Within ten minutes, as Tremay
said, they were ready and waiting. When Samuel stepped out of the
temple doors again, he was dressed in a dark-blue shirt with silver
embroidery along the cuff and chest. His trousers and boots were
black and his cloak was dark brown. He held a silver longbow and
arrows that seemed to gleam in the dark.

The Patrons were standing by
the door as he walked over to Tremay with his eyes glowing, a
mirror of the moonlight.

“Ashra, have your men dismount
and follow me,” Samuel instructed. He waited for his instruction to
be passed along before he began making his way back to the temple
doors, which were pulled open as he approached.

If the Ackalans were curious,
none of them showed it. Adal and Thorlak stood waiting as they
approached the door to the room holding one of the scrolls of
creation. When they were all close enough to hear him, Samuel spoke
up.

“Everyone stay around the wall
when we go inside and form a circle around me. Place your hand on
the shoulder of the person to your right. It will make what we are
about to do easier on everyone.” With that, Samuel turned to look
at the Patron, nodding his signal for them to open the door. It was
like a door to another world in a room that was as bright as the
evening sky with all the stars.

Samuel walked toward the middle
as everyone else filed in. His form began to change as the last
person walked in and the door closed behind them. In the darkened
room, they could all see the soft silvery aura that was forming
around him.

As Samuel took an arrow from
its quiver, it changed into pure silver. He aimed and released the
arrow into the glowing ball at the heart of the pool. In a flash,
it split into four before driving into the ball at perfect angles.
The arrows started spinning. With each rotation, the pool got
brighter and brighter. Everyone began to stare at the water.

It became so bright that they
all had to shield their eyes, but Samuel watched as the scroll rose
from inside the pool into the air. It wasn’t long before it was
hovering above them.

The light that filled the room
began to gather into a single pillar of light that slowly took
form, changing into an illuminated figure in the center of the
pool. Her garment, like her, was almost translucent white, and she
beamed like the sun. She took in everyone in the room at a glance,
but her eyes came to rest on Samuel.

“I am the keeper of the gate,”
she announced in a soft whisper, her words sinking deep into every
part of their being. “It has been over a thousand years. Is your
path set?”

“Yes, our path is clear and we
are ready to enter,” Samuel replied, following an ancient
protocol.