The Call Of Shadows

Chapter Sixteen

Seflek looked back towards the smoke that was roiling in the distance; thick and as black as the tar they used on the boats to get there. He knew that the final battle had begun, indeed had been going on for the past few hours as the pillar grew from a small trickle raising upwards in the wind, to the cloud that it currently was, hovering over civilization with no end in sight. He was riding at a steady pace alone for the first time in weeks, squinting to see in the descending sun. It was only a two day's steady ride from Kilrot Castle to the shores he would depart from to reach the Cavern of Sorrows. This was the place Me-Ree had found the scroll needed to transform into something else, and it would hopefully end up being the place of their salvation. Almost nobody knew about the place, and for good reason. It was incredibly dangerous to get to and even worse to leave. Only someone with magic could enter it and only someone who came to terms with their own darkness could leave.

It's existence in the last 500 years had all but been erased from time and memory until the only sources that remained existed in the legends of mankind, and the historians of the elves and the fae. He couldn't fathom Me-Ree seeking out such knowledge for it's wanton use, and no amount of speculation put his mind at ease. He was afraid for Mynn and he was afraid for himself after what he had done. The Queen had effectively put a warrant on his head and both for her sake, and his, he needed to confront whatever darkness awaited. He turned his gaze back on the flattening landscape ahead of him, listening to the rhythmic pounding of the hooves on fresh earth. The wildflowers painted the fields with streaks of blue, purple and yellow while the trees provided oases for the birds that had made this land their residence. This part of the country was unexpectedly beautiful and vastly different from his home in the Isle of Fae.

There, everything was carefully crafted and cultured to present this ideal beauty of what they imagined paradise to look like. Here, the landscape was largely allowed to flourish in its natural state. With the exception of the towns and cities, everything had an air of wilderness that you didn't often find where he lived. Despite this, he found himself desperately missing the ocean and the spray of the cool seas. He missed the rosebuds soft perfume and the familiar constellations that dotted the night sky...he just missed home. Was that so wrong?

*****

Rokan winced as he limped heavily towards the inner city and back to his home for the first time in months, ready at long last to sleep in his own bed. It would be a brief rest, only a few hours at most, but it would be more than enough to prepare him for the task ahead. There were plenty of smaller battles still raging across the countryside and skirmishes that had to be quelled before they got any ideas of an uprising while he hadn't yet officially claimed the throne. Kilrot Castle had changed drastically. Entire buildings had been laid to waste by the fires that were still smoldering. Women and children flocked to the streets as darkness fell completely, looking for some semblance of comfort in one another as the elves tended to the wounded with their salves. Ash coated the stones he walked upon, and the stench of blood was finally overpowered by the smoke and the sweat.

He looked down at his feet where he could see his ankle trying to break out of the bounds of his boot, swollen and hot. Blood trickled from his lip and was matted in his hair but his father, at long last, was dead. His mouth still held the twisted snarl of fury, and his eyes were still wide with shock as the head bounced softly on his hip. He took a deep breath in and leaned against a wall to rest for a few moments.

King Drogg lunged forward and swung his sword in a practiced arc, slamming into Rokan's own blade. The shock of the impact traveled up his arm and nearly reached his shoulder. He quickly backpedaled and leapt to the side as the tip of Drogg's sword caught in the wooden floorboards. "YOU DARE COMMIT TREASON AGAINST ME!?!" Drogg screamed. Rokan let loose a harsh, barking laugh and stepped back letting his arms swing open wide as his father circled back around. "The very fact you claimed the throne to begin with astounds me! You had no claim to the throne, you never have, and it is my duty as RIGHTFUL HEIR to save this kingdom from your reign of destruction." He hissed. Rokan sliced forward into his father's left shoulder, severing the tendons and watching in satisfaction as it hung limply at his side. His father bared his teeth and slammed Rokan into one of the support posts, smashing his head into the wood and driving his sword straight down into his right foot.