Maylin's Gate (Book 3) (31 page)

A solid click came from the door and the shaman turned to face the sorcerer. The larger man slipped away the hood and she froze.

Her heart accelerated. The shaman with salt and pepper hair, four chins, and thick glasses. She recognized the shaman. She’d seen the man marking Brees with a brand at the Brotherhood’s induction ceremony.

A broad smile crossed the shaman’s face. “That’s better. Follow me this way Dravin.” The heavy-set man brushed past the sorcerer and stepped onto lush green grass.

The sorcerer’s hood fell away. “So brazen in the emperor’s private garden.” A greasy smirk slid across Dravin’s face.

Piercings of silver, gold, and diamond lined each of Dravin’s ears. Dravin peered right then left and followed the shaman deeper into the sanctuary.

The shaman waddled along a path of crystal stepping stones. The path ended inside a shadowy cove among the sanctuary’s tallest trees.

She and Keely hopped from limb to limb tracking the channelers’ progress along the path.

Dry pine needles crunched beneath the shaman. The Brotherhood’s leader paused beside a pair of crystal chairs.

Three towering pine trees stood equal distance apart. The sound of trickling water mingled with the heavy scent of fresh pine resin.

The shaman motioned toward a chair. “Sit and be comfortable. We’re safe here.”

Dravin slithered across the cove and glanced toward the branches. “I’ll never understand why the emperor built this place.” The sorcerer’s gaze shifted behind the chair before returning to meet the shaman’s. “I feel as if the trees are pressing in on me.”

The shaman’s rear-end hovered over the crystal chair and dropped. The chair creaked and the shaman’s jowls shuddered. “It reminds the emperor of his childhood home.”

Dravin waved away the shaman and perched on the chair’s edge like a cobra ready to strike. “Is it done?”

“Right to it then?”

Dravin’s eyes narrowed. “Well, is it Ormond? Because, if you haven’t earned the boy’s trust, I’m wasting my time here.”

The boy’s trust? Who did the sorcerer mean? Brees? She shifted on the perch and leaned forward.

Sweat beaded the shaman’s forehead. “For a man so close to having it all, you worry too much.”

“I don’t have time for your lectures. I’m —”

Ormond’s beefy hand raised cutting off the sorcerer. “It’s done.”

Dravin’s eyes flickered with surprise. “Then he’s ready?”

“Provided certain needs are met.”

The sorcerer produced a crystal vial from the folds of his robe.

Ormond’s sunken eyes widened. Perspiration glistened on the shaman’s upper-lip. “Give it to me.”

“You'd like that wouldn't you Ormond?”

“I’ve kept my end of the bargain.”

“You’ve not met the full terms of our agreement.”

“I've inducted the boy into the Brotherhood as you requested.”

“When can he attempt to take the emperor’s power?" The crystal vial rolled between Dravin’s fingers as if taunting Ormond.

Ormond stiffened. “We can’t rush such a complicated ceremony. The timing must be perfect. You know that.”

“If the emperor returns —”

“I don’t need reminded of the consequences.” Ormond’s jowls quivered like a bowl of jelly.

Dravin leaned forward. “Tell me when Ormond, or I’ll take this vial and leave.”

Ormond’s face turned a pale shade of green. The shaman barked out a short nervous laugh. “There’s no need for threats.”

“When?”

“As I said, it will take some time to arrange.”

The sorcerer stood and palmed the crystal vial. “I’m wasting my time.” Dravin took two strides from the glade.

“Wait.” Ormond huffed and wheezed trying to work free of the chair.

Dravin paused and turned to face the winded shaman. The sorcerer’s face twisted in disgust. “You’re pathetic. The antidote would go to waste on a wretch like you anyway.”

Antidote? Her pulse quickened. The sorcerer held the heartwood tree? She could will the forest around the men and tie them both down in seconds. As if reading her mind, a slight peck came from behind and she glanced over her right wing.

Keely glared down a thin yellow beak. The guardian’s head shook from side to side.

She turned her attention back to the men in the glade below. Her instincts screamed at her to wrap both men up, but she restrained herself. The sorcerer would lead them straight to the heartwood tree anyway.

“Tomorrow night.” Ormond spit out the words ignoring the insult.

“Where?” The vial appeared in the sorcerer’s fingertips.

“Here, meet me here in the emperor’s garden,” Ormond said voice trembling.

Dravin’s sharp gaze flashed across the treetops. A look of revulsion passed over the sorcerer’s face. “If you’re wasting my time, I’ll see you dead.”

“Please,” Ormond said. “I can’t visit my family without the antidote. I’ll die outside Zen’s walls.”

Dravin tossed the vial. “I’ll not offer a second chance.”

With eyes locked on the vial floating free in space, Ormond groaned and fell forward with palms out. The shaman hit the ground and let go a short grunt and a wheezing huff of air. The vial landed in the shaman’s sweaty palm while a few drops of its precious contents slopped over the sides.

Ormond’s hand wrapped around the vial. The shaman rolled sideways pulling a wake of pine needles behind.

She wanted to scream. How could the sorcerer horde an antidote that could save millions of lives?

Dravin turned to leave while Ormond guzzled down the clear liquid. With hood drawn, the sorcerer continued along the crystal path.

Through labored wheezing, Ormond struggled to sit upright. The shaman spun to face the retreating sorcerer. “You promised an antidote for my family.” Ormond's voice teetered on desperation. “Bring it tomorrow Dravin. Do you hear me?”

The sorcerer opened the door and left Trace’s garden.

Ormond stared toward the closed door for a few moments before tucking away the empty vial. The shaman labored to his feet and teetered for several long moments. Sweat poured down Ormond’s face.

How had a coward like Ormond reached the Brotherhood’s pinnacle of power? She hopped across short pine branches.

The shaman wobbled toward the green door. With a solid click the door closed behind Ormond and the garden fell silent.

She fluttered to the forest floor and shifted still staring toward the door.

Beside her, Keely shifted. “It must be here Danielle.”

She whirled on her friend. “What must be here?”

Behind the Ayralen women, the shrubs stirred and a third voice spoke. “The orb of power,” the man’s voice said. “Keely’s talking about the orb of power.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Tree of Life

The ape pounded its staff against the ground and the glade erupted in a chorus. Around the forest, apes raised weapons high with teeth bared. Some beat their weapons against trees. Others raised fists overhead bleating high-pitched screams.

Ronan’s head spun. Had the creature spoken? It had. It had called him Elduin. Like the visitor. Without lowering his weapon, he stole a quick glance at General Demos.

General Demos's weapon never moved from the lead ape's face. A long menacing hiss came from the general's chest.

"What did he call me?" he said.

"He called you Elduin," General Demos said.

With bow raised Ronan stepped forward. "Who are you?"

The lead ape screeched baring blood-red gums. The creature pounded its staff and the apes roared in a cavalcade of cheers and screams.

"I would advise against moving closer," General Demos said.

He glanced over his shoulder. "It spoke to me. It called me a name. I've a right to ask how this ape knows me."

"At our peril," General Demos said and peered toward the high-branches.

He lowered his weapon. "I don't think this creature means us any harm."

The ape hissed and bounded away.

One by one, the apes disappeared as if they'd never existed at all.

Tongue flickering, General Demos lowered the bow.

The apes vanished as did the chirping crickets and buzzing mosquitoes. Like a living portrait, a nothingness settled over the forest.

His stomach rolled. "I don't like this. Not one bit."

General Demos's tongue flickered.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I've never tasted anything like it."

The hair on his neck bristled. "What does that mean? What emotion are you sensing?"

"Alien."

Where the game trail vanished behind a tree, something flashed.

He reached for his bow but his arms felt heavy like leaden weights. He couldn't move his legs. "What's happening?"

General Demos's tongue flickered at manic levels. A warbling hiss unlike anything he'd heard came from the general's chest.

"I can't move," General Demos said.

Movement flashed to his left and he fought against the weight smothering his shoulders and arms. He willed his head to turn but it refused cooperation.

He felt watched. A presence, heavy and daunting, bore down on him. He could do nothing.

Another flash where the ape stood moments ago.

He struggled to turn his head forward.

A man stood in the game trail three-feet ahead.

He inhaled a sharp breath and tried to reach for his blade.

A long white beard covered the man's face. Wisps of thin white hair covered the man’s bald head.

He couldn't discern the man's age. The man appeared old, but the man's eyes suggested otherwise.

A warm smile lit the man's face. "Tarbin was right."

"What?" He glanced at General Demos.

The general stood frozen like the forest surrounding them.

"Your friend is fine. I've done him no harm."

"Who are you?"

"Someone who's waited a long time for your arrival."

"Why can't I move?"

A look of horror crossed the man's face. "I'm sorry. Forgive my rudeness" The man's fingers snapped and the world shifted.

The forest, the game trail, and General Demos vanished. A campfire crackled outside a grass-roofed hut. A boar rotated on a spit tended by no one. The hut, built from mud and daubing, stood at the base of an enormous tree. With high thin limbs covered in a patchwork of wide green leaves, the tree rose a hundred feet skyward.

His head spun and he dropped to his knees. His stomach lurched in protest. "What have you done to me?"

"Done?" The man's face soured. "I've done nothing to you.

He closed his eyes and inhaled long slow breaths. "Where's General Demos?"

"He's where he always was." The man’s eyes narrowed. "I told you he's fine."

"No." He shook his head. "I was standing beside him a moment ago, and now he's gone."

"Ah, yes. This place was always here. I've simply opened your eyes. If you'd like, I can take you back to your friend, but I've a feeling you've come a long way to find me."

His head and stomach relented. He stood and waved off the offer. "No. I'll take your word for it." He glanced between the boar rotating on the spit and the tree beyond it. "The Tree of Life."

"Yes." A smile split the man's face. "You've heard of it?"

"The dragons told me about it. They told me about you."

"I knew I could count on them." A satisfied smile split the man's face.

"You haven't told me your name," he said.

The man's eyes narrowed. "My name?"

"It's a simple question," he said. "Everyone has a name."

"I've gone by many names," the man said. "You can call me Zeke."

Gone by many names? Maybe Tiamat was right. "Okay then.” He flashed an awkward smile. “Zeke. It's nice to meet you. My name is —"

"Elduin," the man said nodding. "I know your name."

"No. You have it wrong. I'm Ronan Latimer. King of Meranthia."

Zeke stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "I've never heard of him."

"My name's not Elduin. I think you must have me confused for someone else."

"I know who you are. Like I said, I've been waiting for you. For just the right time."

He wasn't going to argue his point. If the man wanted to call him Elduin, so be it. "Listen Zeke, this may sound strange but I'm hoping you can help me build a portal." He held his breath and waited.

Zeke blinked and stared ahead stone-faced. "Of course I can. That's why I'm here."

His heart beat faster. "I need to find the Seeker in the next world."

Zeke nodded. "Yes. In the Tower of souls. I've wanted to visit there for quite some time myself. I’ve heard it’s beautiful."