Empress Aurora Trilogy Quest For the Kingdom Parts I, II, and III Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) (53 page)

Marcus gazed
on the land just ahead of him on this early September morning. Glimpsed through
the haze of the sea mist it appeared to be a country out of a fable, one told
by parents to their children and handed down from one generation to the next. The
hills of emerald green seemed encased in a sheen of silver, like some rare
jewel placed in a flawless setting designed to display its incomparable beauty.

Despite the
loveliness before him, a dread gripped the heart of Marcus: Eirinia. Zoe had
led them to Eirinia.

It was a far
cry from what Marcus had expected when he sought an answer from Logos for the
fulfillment of his quest. He had not seriously considered Albinium as a place
that concealed the final object that he sought; but Eirinia had never occurred
to him either.

He cast his
mind back to the morning when Urbanus had related the shocking news of Tullia’s
disappearance. As he stood on that shore with the waves lapping at the beach he
had one mad thought of abandoning his quest and returning with all speed to
Lycenium to search for his love. When he sought Dominio in prayer about it,
however, his guidance was negative.

Finish the
quest, a voice spoke into his spirit. The counsel surprised him, until on sober
contemplation he realized he must: the lives of his parents hung on the success
of his task. Marcus chided himself for even the momentary consideration of
abandoning his parents to find a maiden who had already refused his love and
apparently given her heart to another.

Unbidden came
the vision he had of Tullia while in the cave they had sheltered in after the
great storm; calling for help while sinking slowly in some sort of mire. What
did it mean? he wondered. And could there be a connection with her
disappearance?

He turned
resolutely from such thoughts. He had enough trials ahead of him without
torturing himself over the possible fate of Tullia. Still, he found himself
plagued by doubt. The temptation to rescue her from possible danger persisted,
yet he must obey Dominio.

One thing he
decided and kept with firm resolution, however; he would say nothing to Felix
of the disturbing tidings he had received from Urbanus.

Now they drew
nearer, ever nearer to the shores of Eirinia. A magical place she appeared,
where legendary heroes or mythical beasts might emerge from the mist, ready to
fight one more battle or slay one more maiden. And, if the tales were true,
where the guardians of old walked at night, to seek dominion over the lands
they once had ruled…

“Oh, how
lovely!” Kyrene breathed in awe as the others joined Marcus. “I do not think I
have ever seen such green before, not even in Gaudereaux. Truly, this must be a
place of enchantment, of bliss lying in wait for those fortunate to find it!
Surely the inhabitants are a people of rare courtesy and gentleness in keeping
with their exquisite land!”

Marcus turned
a raised eyebrow on her.

“Sheep
herders, barbarians, and sorcerers. That is what they are. There is neither
courtesy nor gentleness to be found among them.”

Kyrene cast a
look of amused disbelief upon him, and opened her lips to disagree.

Marcus
silenced her with his next words.

“I spent my
captivity here. I know of what I speak.”

Kyrene
flinched, and looked at him with soft compassion in her eyes.

Marcus shied
away from her pitying glance, and gave one word of warning to the others.

“Be on your
guard.”

The afternoon
sun blazed through the trees, lighting the leaves with an emerald
incandescence, turning the trunks black in stark contrast. The first changing
leaves glowed yellow and pale orange against the clear green still touched with
summer’s lush richness.

In the
distance, they saw a trail wind off the path, beckoning them deeper into the
woods. A squirrel gathering its winter nuts scampered into view, then stopped
and froze into immobility at their intrusion into its domain. For a brief
moment it watched the interlopers, and then scurried up the trunk of the
nearest tree.

They proceeded
deeper into the heart of the woods, and heard the sound of running water. They
quickly discovered the source; a small stream that ran parallel to the path,
flowing gently over the polished rocks in its bed, the first falling leaves
already drifting into its current.

The air was
still with the lazy warmth of September, brushed by the golden patina of
autumn, yet still clinging to the memory of summer. The fierce heat of August
had now cooled, leaving a mild season yet to be savored before the coming of
the colder months.

It was, Marcus
mused, like the difference between love and friendship. If June symbolized the
freshness and sweetness of young love, and July embodied its ardor and passion,
then September evoked the mellowness of fond reminiscences of adventures
shared, of trials endured, of battles fought side by side as brothers in arms.

They hurried
through the woods, knowing that the air so gently embracing by day would
quickly chill with the sinking of the sun from the bright blue sky. The
melancholy chirping of crickets made a pleasant accompaniment to the rippling
of the stream. Here and there the plaintive call of a bird pierced the air. Few
remained, most having already flown south for the winter.

They had
stowed their boat in a lonely cave along the coast that looked as though it
received no visitors. Marcus knew the land well enough to retrace their steps
and recover it when ready to depart.

For they had
landed at the same spot where Marcus had arrived more than two years ago as a
slave. Ahead of them some two miles away lay the village of Leith, where he had
endured his captivity.

For what
purpose had Zoe led them here? And what secrets would they uncover during their
sojourn in this land, so beautiful to gaze upon, yet so barbarous to dwell in?

They made camp
near the stream but off the path in a grove of ancient oak trees. On
consultation with Dag, the most skilled woodsman of them, it was decided they
should remove themselves from the vicinity of the path, lest any passersby
stumble upon their party. Marcus remembered well the hostility shown to
strangers, and did not wish to risk a confrontation unless it was unavoidable.

About a half a
mile off the path they found a small broad hill at the foot of which grew the
oak trees. The bank of the hill broke the wind that kicked up at nightfall, and
the thick leaves of the sturdy oaks already kissed with gold, spread a canopy
over their heads, screening them from the eyes of the curious. The trees grew
so closely together that their nearly interlocking trunks provided further
shelter from the chill of night breezes.

Altogether it
was a snug and surprisingly warm nest they made for themselves, and after
spreading their cloaks and blankets on the ground they were lulled by the
rustle of the leaves in the wind and soon fell fast asleep.

All that is,
except Marcus. He should have slept soon and soundly for it had been a long day
of hard trekking through the woods. But something gnawed at him, a nameless
anxiety that disturbed his peace, and made slumber impossible. What was it
about this place that prickled his skin, and sent his eyes scurrying to every
dark corner, as though expecting to see a face hidden there?

He recalled
the legends he had heard during the days of his captivity in this country: how
strange beings roamed the land at night, striking terror into the hearts of
those so unfortunate as to cross their path, and the natives stayed indoors for
fear of encountering them. No such fear had deterred his old master, Cadeyrn,
who tended his flocks at night when necessary. Marcus joined him in his
skepticism, yet remembered the tales and wondered now whether there be any
truth in their telling…

An unreasoning
fear of the place came on him, and a desire to wake the others and urge them to
continue their march to find another spot to shelter. But the others were
clearly exhausted, and it would be cruel to wake them merely to humor a
senseless whim.

And yet the
horror grew on him the longer he laid there. Marcus closed his eyes to sleep,
but terrifying visions danced through his weary mind, making sleep impossible.
The flash of a knife, and a scream that stopped the beating of his heart sent
him springing up from his supine position. He sat with a racing heart and a
reeling mind, his breath coming in short hard gasps.

Was it a
vision he had received? The knowledge of some violent deed that had been
perpetrated in this spot? Or did the legends of Eirinia prey on his mind and
produce a mere figment of the imagination?

Suddenly,
Kyrene cried out in her sleep, and she also sat up abruptly, one hand clutched
to her heart as she sobbed for breath. Seeing Marcus, she sighed deeply and
smiled at him. Marcus rose to his feet and helped Kyrene to hers. Noiselessly
they drew apart from the others and whispered together.

“What woke
you, Kyrene?” Marcus asked his friend.

Kyrene
shuddered violently, and closed her eyes abruptly. Then she opened them, and
Marcus noted that her hazel eyes darted to and from the trees, even as his own
did.

“A dream,” she
answered, her low voice almost inaudible in the silent forest. “I dreamed there
were a great many people gathered in this spot, all of them clad in long
flowing brown robes. A man, who appeared to be their leader, wore a circle of
heavy gold around his neck. It was open at the throat, and not fastened as a
chain would be. It seemed like a heavy bar that had been hammered into a
circlet.

“He spoke some
words in a tongue I have never heard before. Then he raised a bowl over his
head and looked to the sky. All of the others followed his lead. I felt a sense
of dread; of fear of I know not what.

“Then I woke,
but the terror is with me still,” Kyrene finished. “And yet nothing actually
happened, therefore my fear is not reasonable.

“But I
am
afraid!” she cried out, and then quickly clapped a hand over her mouth.

Marcus put an
arm around her and drew her close. He soothed her, then told her the vision he
himself had seen.

“What is this
place, Marcus?” Kyrene asked him with widened eyes.

“I thought
perhaps you might know, or rather sense what it is,” Marcus replied.

Kyrene gently
drew back from Marcus’ encircling arm. So deep in thought was he that he had
forgotten his arm was still around her. Yet Kyrene was right; it was not proper
to hold a young lady, even though a friend, in such an intimate manner.

Marcus blushed
at his indiscretion and stammered out his question again.

“I think this
may be a place where rituals have taken place,” Kyrene mused. “Look at its
situation: off the path and well hidden from the eyes of passersby. We may have
received knowledge of things that have occurred, or may yet happen.

“Whether they
have or not is not my most pressing concern, however,” Kyrene remarked
unexpectedly.

Marcus blinked
at her in surprise.

“What is your
concern?” he asked in a solicitous tone.

Kyrene looked
about her and drew her cloak more tightly about her. Marcus reflected to
himself that she belonged in this forest, for with her tawny mane, wide hazel
eyes, and the grace in which she moved, she appeared a woodland creature
herself. He could never picture Kyrene in an aristocratic setting with all the pomp
and polite convention of its dictates.

With a flash
of inspiration, he realized that Felix probably could not envision her in
Valerian society either. And that, Marcus realized, is why Felix has not
attached himself to her, or pursued any relationship other than friendship with
her.

He became
aware that Kyrene was staring at him, and he returned to their discussion.

“What is your
concern, Kyrene?” he asked again. “What are you afraid of?”

Kyrene took
another swift survey of the premises, and then answered.

“The Astra.
They are here. In this place.”

“Of course!
That is the answer,” Marcus mused out loud.

“What do you
mean? Answer to what?” Kyrene whispered.

Marcus looked
at her; reluctant to alarm her, yet he felt he must be honest with her.

“When I stayed
in Eirinia before, I was told tales of strange beings who inhabited the woods
and hills, who walked at night, their desire to take back the land that once
was theirs. The inhabitants did not venture out after nightfall, but stayed in
their homes, in fear of what they might encounter if they left the safety of
their four walls.

“I scoffed at
such stories, and yet…there were one or two occasions when I sensed something,
a feeling that I was not alone; that something watched me with hostility in its
heart, and evil in its intentions. At such times I scarcely dared to breathe
for fear of bringing I knew not what down upon my head. I felt it when I
traveled home to Valerium one night, when I heard around me an unearthly
moaning as if of a soul in pain.

“And I feel it
again tonight, in this place, and the horror of it is on me so strongly I fear
I cannot shake it!”

Kyrene’s eyes
widened, and she slowly nodded her head in agreement to a mystery solved.

“Yes, Marcus,
it is they, the Astra, who roam this land and instill fear in the hearts of
those who sense their walking. For they were banished long ago by Dominio, and
to the Earth they were cast down. They have ever desired a kingdom of their
own, and here they founded one.

“Until the
advent of men to this region, and they became their enemy. But at night, when
their power is greatest, they return to walk and mark their territory, and any
who encounter them are subdued by horror. For if they cannot physically rule,
they still seek to gain power over men, and fear is their greatest weapon.

“We must be
brave, and ask Dominio to protect us, and to drive them out, that man may fear
them no more.”