The Orb of Truth (The Horn King Series) (17 page)

Anticipation of a hot meal, after days of dried rations, consumed their minds as Xan distributed bowls to each of them. Dulgin scarfed down the most, and trails of semicrusted porridge streaked down his red beard as he scraped his fifth helping clean and licked his lips. The Elf had tied his knotted hair back into a long ponytail. He still bore some of the Orc blood that had dried on his face. The trio had relaxed and shared the details of their recent adventures leading up to this point. Bridazak had also revealed the Orb, which brought noticeable tears to Xan’s eyes, but the Elf waited patiently for their story to come to a close before starting his own.

“My name is Xandahar Sheldeen,” he began.

“Sheldeen Elves?” Dulgin asked in disbelief. “They have not been seen for hundreds of years.”

“You are correct. I am the last.”

“What happened to your people?” Abawken asked.

“They were lost in the Holy War at the time of the Separation.”

“The Separation? Just how old are you, Elfy?”

“I’m approaching my seventh century.”

“How do you look so young? You don’t look a day over a hundred,” responded Dulgin.

He exhaled deeply before going on, “Let’s get to the heart of the matter, shall we?”

“Like, how you knew my father?” Bridazak asked.

“Yes, let’s start there. You probably don’t remember him.”

“No, I grew up an orphan. I can’t remember anyone or anything before that time. I spent several decades looking, but gave up and just thought it wasn’t meant to be. Here,” Bridazak pulled out the Scroll of Remembrance and pointed to his last name as the magical ink revealed itself once again, “Does this name match my father’s?”

“Yes, Hills Baiulus. I had partnered with your father to find a way back to The Lost City, to save my wife and son from what had entered into our world. He told me they would be safe amongst the Ordakians while we went off to gather information. When we came back we found everyone was gone; killed or missing, and the homes all burnt to the ground. Two of the Horn Kings had decided that the battle ground would be right there. We could not find our families, but the carnage on that day will forever haunt me, and we assumed they were killed. He, however, had a strange feeling that you were still alive since you were so young and the militia had taken the surviving children with them. We fled the area and came here to the Moonrock Mountains.”

Hesitantly, Bridazak braved his next question, “Did he look for me?”

“Yes, he did. We carried our loss differently, however, and we drifted apart from one another. He eventually came back, after a long journey of looking for you and gathering information, with a message.” Xan paused; the anticipation of his words held everyone in the room captive. He composed himself and continued, “He told me that he found my family, and they were waiting for me to unite with them. He went on to describe a prophecy, and that I was a part of that prophecy. I needed to wait for the one who brings hope back into the world, and I would know it was near when I heard the words, ‘The time has come and has already come’. He instructed me to hide in these mountains and wait, and here I have waited ever since. The years turned to decades, decades turned to centuries, and my hope dwindled, and my hate grew. You being here has changed everything. I can now see that my mind worked against me, hardening my heart toward the world and everyone in it. I thought I would never see my family again. I thought he lied to me about the message, so when I heard you say those words, it—” he stopped and looked at Bridazak.

“What happened to my father?”

He cleared his throat, “He went off in search of the Tree. I never saw him again, and don’t know what happened.”

“The Tree? It mentions something about a Tree of Death and branches in here, is it real!?”

Again, Xan took in a deep breath and proceeded, “The Tree was a gift that has now turned into a curse. It was never meant for mankind to touch, because it was pure and Holy. This tree gave us insight, knowledge, and wisdom, by just being in its presence and gazing upon it. It was an act of selfishness and greed that separated us all, as someone wanted to become like a god. The individual was fooled by a voice from another realm. Without the connection to the source of all that is good, the Tree began to poison the land, the people, our hearts, and Kerrith Ravine formed, releasing evil itself. The realm of Ruauck-El and all its inhabitants were separated from the Lost City, but it was not just a city; we were separated from the one who created this world, who lives there—the creator of creation itself. Darkness fell on the land.”

“My brother, El’Korr, spoke of this Tree, but I thought it was a myth.”

“Xan, how do you know so much about this?” Bridazak questioned.

“I’ve seen the Tree.” There was silence in the room and Xan went deep into the recesses of his memories, from a time before his great darkness, “It had petals of sparkling crystal. Branches of silver and purple weaved together in perfect unison. It drew me in with its beauty. The power that emanated from it would heal the sick, answer questions, or bring favor to a family. Upon each answer or gift, a single glass-like leaf would fall and dis-integrate into glittery rainbow colors and then vanish before reaching the ground. A new leaf would unfold to replace the fallen one. It was breathtaking; it was life-changing. Nothing in all of Ruauck-El compared, and my description does not do it justice.”

“What did the Tree do for you?” Bridazak inquired, mesmerized by the beauty of the story.

“It gave me a son. My wife was barren and it was my only wish in life to have a child. I will never forget the crystal leaf falling after my request. I almost couldn’t believe it would happen.”

“How did one know not to touch it?” Bridazak asked.

“Do you remember when or how you knew right from wrong? God placed inside each of us the knowing in our spirit, and the closer you approached it, the stronger the push of this insight. There was a story of a human who came so close he was able to see his reflection in the crystal petals, and he was blinded by the beauty of what he saw.”

“What happened to him? What did he see?”

“No one knows. The Legend of Bakka says he was escorted by the Shimmering Monks of old to an isolated temple on top of the Mountain of Gold, where he still remains to this day.”

“Bah, now you talk of tall tales, Elf! There is no such place.”

“I cannot disagree with you Dulgin, but this is the legend.”

Abawken brought the conversation back, “Why did Bridazak’s father have to search for the Tree? Didn’t he already know where it was?”

Xandahar rose from his chair and went to a desk along the back wall, where he pulled out an old parchment. He unrolled it before them to reveal a map of the lands. He pointed to a place called Black Rock.

“This is where we suspected the Tree would be located. Before the time of Separation, The Tree would teleport randomly throughout the land where everyone could share in its beauty and knowledge. Black Rock was the last place that it was recorded to be.”

“What is Black Rock? I’ve never heard of it before,” Dulgin inquired.

“It is a secret castle of King Manasseh’s, at the edge of the Desert of Guilt.”

There was a long pause as everyone stared at the map. Bridazak broke the silence, “Does Manasseh know about the Tree?”

“Oh yes, that is the source of his power. That is why he has not aged as a human, and has ruled for over three centuries. He has become a dark and twisted soul.”

“But where does the Tree get its energy from, now that it has fallen?” Abawken questioned. “It must come from somewhere.”

“Not somewhere, but someone. The Dark Lord is the master of Ruauck-El now.”

“Do you know who that is?”

“Whispers of his true name are forgotten echoes within the realm. We know he is the ruler of the bottomless pit, the father of the Reegs, but his identity remains unknown.”

“So my father intended to destroy the Tree?”

“I believe so.”

“How do you destroy something like that?”

“Bridazak, how does one defeat darkness?”

The Ordakian looked at the Elf in contemplation, and then it hit him, “With light!”

“Exactly. You now possess that light.”

It dawned on him, “The Orb.”

He nodded in confirmation of the revelation, “It is the bridge back to the one true God of all creation. It is our only hope.”

Dulgin and Abawken stirred uncomfortably around the table, as they understood what the next step must be.

“This is insane, Bridazak! We can’t be marching right into Black Rock. It would take an army,” Dulgin blurted out.

“I have to agree with Master Dulgin. It will take us years to possibly gather enough strength to attack. Years we don’t have.”

There was another pause in the conversation. Bridazak wandered to the fireplace, trying to process the information all at once.

“There must be a way,” Bridazak said.

“There is,” Xan responded.

Everyone turned toward him, “I know of an army.”

“Where?”

“They have been hiding and waiting for a very long time. We will start tomorrow at first light. I will take you to them.”

“How far?”

“Several days from here. We have a long journey ahead of us, so tonight, we must rest. Let us retire and awake with fresh eyes and minds.”

Everyone slowly disbanded and headed upstairs to the bedrooms. Bridazak and Xan were the last to go up, and before opening the door the Ordakian turned to the Elf with yet another question.

“Just curious, how did you know my name when you first saw me? Or was that in your visions too?” he teased.

Xan reached inside his cotton tunic and pulled out a folded paper, handing it over to Bridazak. He then walked to his bed chamber without a word. Bridazak quizzically watched him close the door, and then entered into his own room. Several lit candles gave light as he unfolded the parchment. It was a ‘wanted’ posting, featuring a picture of his face. They would not be able to enter any village, town, or city with his mug memorized by every bounty hunter and mercenary network out there. Dulgin and Abawken were listed as accomplices, which added more guilt onto Bridazak’s already heavy burden. He scanned further, and spotted an odd word, “CAPTURED.” Next to it was a face he loved. He gulped as he began to comprehend what he was seeing.

With labored breathing of panic and excitement he began to yell, “He’s alive! He is ALIVE!”

Dulgin busted through the door with his axe readied, and Abawken was right behind him.

“What’s going on, ya blundering fool!?”

“He’s alive!”

“Who’s alive?”

“Spilf!”

.

12

The Burning Forest

“W
e are almost there,” Xan announced.

“Good, ‘cause my feet are killing me from travelling for days on this god-forsaken volcanic rock,” responded Dulgin.

Bridazak tapped his dwarven friend on the shoulder to get his attention, “Perhaps we should have gone through another portal to speed up the process.”

Dulgin gave him a squinty-eyed glare, “Unless there is Dwarven Ale involved, you can forget about it. The next portal I see better have someone else coming through, cause I ain’t budgin’.”

Abawken and Bridazak chuckled as Dulgin continued to march on with a little extra stomp in each of his steps. In the distance they could see smoke filling the sky, but were unsure as to the source. Their last thirty miles were tread over volcanic rock, with sulphur smells dominating the atmosphere, but there was no volcano in sight. Xan had remained fairly elusive as to where they were going, so they suspected it was somewhere very dangerous, considering the current environment was already harsh; the obsidian stone was cutting through their boots. Luckily, the Elf had provided a pair of thick sandals for the barefoot Ordakian, knowing the terrain they would be facing. They could feel the cracking of skin within their nostrils as the dry sulphurous heat absorbed the moisture in their bodies; an occasional nose bleed forced them to stop and take a much needed rest.

Several hours of difficult trekking passed before they first spotted the flames sprouting out of the land. As they came closer, they could make out what appeared to be the remnants of some kind of forest, ablaze. Pops and cracks warned them of the impending danger of entering this consuming, fire land. Hundreds of stubs of the long-gone trees in various clusters lay before them. Each stood four feet tall with spires of flame licking toward heaven, as if trying to reach higher, having burned away all the height and branches of the former forest, but somehow neither dying out, nor finishing off what remained. The blaze burned with an intense roar, and a strong smell of toxic fumes surrounded the surreal scene.

“We’ve reached the Burning Forest.”

“I’ve never heard of this place before. What is it?” Bridazak asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“It is where we will be getting you an army.”

“I don’t see how there could be anyone in there,” Dulgin responded.

“Do you mind informing us where we are, and what we need to do, Master Elf?”

“Indeed, Abawken. This used to be a great army. They were cursed by evil itself, and now burn eternally. Those are not trees, but warriors.”

“What? You’re kidding, right?” Dulgin blurted.

“When did this happen?” asked the Ordakian.

Xan looked directly to Dulgin before answering, “The Kerrith Ravine crusade.”

The information stunned the Dwarf. He took a step backward and then pivoted to look at the cursed land. These were his people. In there, somewhere, was his brother. Through gritted teeth, he asked “What do we need to do, Elfy?”

“Anyone who enters the forest will be consumed by the fire and fall victim to the curse. I have prepared a spell that will protect us for one hour.”

“But how do we battle this curse?” asked the human sheik.

“A beast of fire controls this forest. My guess is that once it is destroyed, the curse will fall also.”

“That is a pretty big guess Xan—and a big risk.”

“I know, Bridazak—but long ago, someone told me to think of risk as faith.”