Enaya: Solace of Time (17 page)

Chapter 25

The Snake Queen

Black vines and spider-webs would have made anybody turn around, but Srinath was not afraid of anything, especially the things that people feared. He stood outside of a temple that was carved into the mountain. The rock came out into two large pillars, and between those it sunk into a deep black hole. There were two black holes that served as windows. Srinath glanced at one of the windows and saw a pair of white eyes staring back at him, then disappear into the darkness.

Srinath walked in; something squishy slurped beneath his feet as he took a step. The inside was constructed like a cave, and rocks separated him from the white eyes that followed him. There was something trailing after the eyes, something long and black, and it slithered.

There was an opening and light was seen. Srinath continued. He ran his cold fingers across the rigid wall. When he came to the opening, the white eyes still followed him, but there was light in this room. Torches hung in every corner, and from a hole in the wall, a large black snake slithered out. It ran across the base of the wall and disappeared into another crevasse.

“Beautiful, isn’t she,” said a raspy voice.

Srinath looked up to see Shebris, sitting on her throne of thorns. What little hair she had left fell in front of her large black eyes. She was lipless, and her cheeks sunk in like a decaying corpse. Scales covered her hands and her neck, fading around her large pointy ears. She wore a black sparkly dress. The garb stretched over her feet. She got off her throne and glided across the floor to Srinath.

Srinath bowed. “Shebris, the Snake Queen.”

Shebris placed her cold hand under his chin and forced him to look at her. “Tell me, where does the Lucian Empire stand?”

“As you said, this new city has fallen under our power. This Norcross is a foolish man. I gave him magic.”

“Magic?” Shebris asked.

“To give him power. What man does not like power?”

“Good,” Shebris said.

The black snake slithered from an opening in the rocky ceiling and poured down to the floor like thick ooze. It coiled around the throne, flicking its black tongue toward Srinath. Its diamond-shaped head caressed the thorns, and it finally slid around, resting its head on the arm of the throne, waiting for Shebris.

“I need the element of time,” Shebris said, flicking out her tongue.

“I know, my queen,” Srinath said.

“Tell me about this foolish man you speak of.”

“He’s from the future. A young man, Nile Whitman, had become engaged with Enaya. He went to this city and brought it back,” Srinath explained.

“Is Nile Whitman still alive?”

“Yes, my queen.”

“Bring me Nile Whitman—alive,” Shebris said, gliding back to her throne. The black snake leaned back, hissing at Srinath. Shebris sat down. The snake coiled around her, only leaving her upper torso and head visible.

“Yes, my queen,” Srinath said as he turned to leave the temple.

“Srinath!” Shebris called.

Srinath turned, his black eyes meeting hers. “Yes?”

“Remind this Norcross whose command he is under.”

Srinath nodded. His footsteps disappeared the deeper he walked out of the temple. Shebris rubbed her snake’s head gently. She kissed it and its tongue caressed the side of her cheek.

“Go, Zalmador, and protect the temple,” she whispered to the snake.

Zalmador uncoiled from around the throne and slithered out of the temple, through the long, dark rigid hallway, and out into the sun. A flock of crows had fluttered through the trees, and among those trees, Zalmador disappeared and nothing else remained but silence.

Chapter 26

Azeul

Bancroft Yates, a stout man with a big, bushy beard that was as very much gray as he was old, walked into his home made of wood and straw and held together by dry clumps of mud. The smell of baked bread cradled his nose and he grinned as he trotted through the house, passing a room with seven rocking chairs that he had made for him and his family. The chairs sat in a circle, facing each other, and one of them was for a little child.

There was a gentle smile that fell upon Bancroft’s face, crinkling his big nose, as he entered the kitchen. A long wooden table made of oak took up more than half the room, and so did the chairs around it. His wife, Olivia, had hardly any room to move, but with the ages of practice, she was able to maneuver her way around the messiest of messes.

Olivia pulled away from a black furnace, the smoke rising to the ceiling. Her brown frizzy hair told Bancroft that she needed more rest than she had received. She stared at her husband of twenty-nine years and blew a long piece of hair out from her eyes.

Bancroft chuckled, his rosy red cheeks brightening the room. He ran his dry, callused hand through his short gray hair and found its way down to his hairy chin. He had on a stained tunic, and three scars poked out over the shirt on his chest. He humbly walked to Olivia, his baggy britches rubbing against each other, and his large boots thumping with each step.

“Are the children outside?” Bancroft asked cheerfully.

“Of course,” Olivia replied with a gentle gesture.

Bancroft laughed and hugged Olivia. He kissed her forehead, and she rested her head on his chest. His muscular arms wrapped around her, and he stepped from side to side, as if they were dancing.

“I’ll finish plowing the fields after breakfast, and then I’ll feed the horses, my sweet.”

“Bancroft, you’re a hardworking man, that’s why I married you.”

“You didn’t marry me for love?” Bancroft asked with a hearty smile.

“Of course I did,” Olivia said, looking into his big brown eyes.

They smiled at each other, still in love after twenty-nine years, but Bancroft became easily distracted as an incredible, delicious smell of bacon kissed his nose. He pulled away from Olivia and glanced down at a basket of bacon sitting on the table. He reached for a piece and Olivia smacked his hand.

“Just a nibble,” Bancroft said, wagging his hand.

“We eat as a family.”

“How about we not tell the children that breakfast is ready?” Bancroft joked.

Olivia playfully slapped him on the arm. “How about you get out there in the fields and call for those kids to come and eat.”

“Anything for you,” Bancroft said. He left the kitchen, taking long strides until he was out on the porch. His children were playing among the tall grass and Bancroft leaned against a post to watch.

The village of Azeul was built upon hills; every oak house faced the center. There was a large pinwheel sticking out of the creek that did not work. Mountains lured over the village. Horses rummaged across the field and the tall grass swayed in the breeze. Azeul was a happy, little farming village where farmers attended their crops and the children played. There was a dirt road that led to the crystal caverns, a great place for them to rest if needed, but the men of Azeul were brought up to work, not rest, and Bancroft was reminded of that as he stared across the thorp.

Bancroft went back to watching his children. His oldest son, Medwyn, who was nearly eighteen, was acting like a dragon and hunched on all fours, crawling to the youngest, Jacob. Jacob was nearly five, and he was running around with a stick, hitting at Medwyn when he got near him. His other son, Nicolas, was ten, and he jumped on top of Medwyn and pretended to be a dragon rider, charging at Jacob. Then his two daughters, Asia and June, who were seven and thirteen, pretended to be the damsels in distress, waiting for Jacob to come rescue them.

Bancroft laughed as he watched his children play the way they did together. Bancroft had been so proud of Medwyn. He was growing into a fine young man, and it was only a matter of time before he would leave to serve the knights of Woodlands. He had trained hard and was picked by Roland himself when he was ready to serve instead of farm. To Bancroft, there was no better life, other than the life he had built in Azeul with his wife and children.

Jacob charged at Medwyn with outstretched arms, and Medwyn grabbed Jacob, spun him around as Nicolas fought to hang on, and then barely dropped Jacob on the ground. He then tickled him, and Jacob pushed Medwyn off. Nicolas fell to his back, and Medwyn fell on top of him. Nicolas pushed Medwyn off and laughed, and then Jacob, Nicolas, and Asia ran and attacked Medwyn. They jumped on him, tickled him, as June watched with her arms folded, laughing.

“Come eat your breakfast!” Bancroft yelled.

“Race ya,” Medwyn said, pushing himself up on his feet.

They ran through the tall grass, but Medwyn wasn’t holding back. He lunged forward with each long stride, passing his siblings. He jumped up on the porch to be greeted by a smack on the arm by his father. Bancroft stood to the side, giggling as each of his children tumbled into the house.

“I’m tired, Daddy,” Jacob whined.

Bancroft reached down and pulled Jacob up to his arms. He held him tightly as they headed into the kitchen. Everyone had already taken their forks and was digging in to the food, but Bancroft sat his son down and then took a seat himself.

“Jacob, why don’t you say the blessing,” Bancroft said.

“Aw, do I have to?” Jacob asked.

Bancroft grinned wide at his son. “Yes, son, you have to.”

Jacob lowered his head. “Thanks for the food.”

Asia and June giggled.

Then Medwyn and Nicholas started to laugh.

Olivia and Jacob laughed as well.

“You should always bless everything, my dear children,” Bancroft said.

The children reached for the bread and the bacon, then the grits and the jam and began to rain the food down on their plates, eating as if they haven’t eaten in ages. Bancroft did the same, forcing whole pieces of bacon into his mouth. The grease smeared across his fingers as he pushed the last inch of bacon between his teeth.

“This is good, Mother,” Medwyn said, biting into a biscuit.

“Bless you, son,” Olivia said.

“Oh, I love you all. I love all my children. I’m so very blessed.”

“So am I,” Olivia added.

“But don’t get too carried away, Medwyn, you still have to farm until you leave,” Bancroft said.

Medwyn rolled his eyes. “I know.”

Bancroft smiled. “I’m very proud of you, Medwyn.”

Asia reached her chubby, little fingers across the table for the bacon. Medwyn’s hand dove into the basket, bringing two pieces of bacon to his plate. Olivia reached for the basket, scooting it to her. When Asia brought the basket closer, she frowned; there were just crumbs and grease stains on the white cloth.

“Tonight, children, when we rest by the fire, I will tell you the time of how I met your mother,” Bancroft said, “but for now, I want to talk about what we do when we are attacked by dragons, or the Lucian Empire.”

At the same time, the kids said, “We run east into the forest and hide in the crystal caverns until you or Mother comes and get us.”

“We raised smart children,” Bancroft said, winking at Olivia.

“You go over that every day,” Medwyn said.

A load roar pierced through the village. It was unlike anything Bancroft had ever heard. There was another load roar, something foreign. It did not sound like a dragon, or an arachnoid, or even a vilasiea bear. It was something different, something darker. There was another loud roar and the table shook.

Bancroft and his family froze. A few pieces of straw fell from the roof and onto Bancroft’s plate. He picked up the straw and looked at it closely, then to Olivia confused . . .

Thump!

Part of the house fell in, and everyone pushed away from the table and huddled together in the kitchen. Smoke blew through the opening in the roof and Bancroft grabbed his two smallest children and made his way to the room with the seven chairs.

“Get down on the floor,” Bancroft said. He tumbled through the house, nervously knocking down tables and pushing over chairs. Medwyn followed after him.

“Wait, come back!” Olivia said, reaching for him.

Medwyn ignored her and pushed his way through a fallen log that held the roof together and joined his father on the porch. They stood there, unable to move.

Coming over the mountains were six black-and-silver dragons, breathing fire from their stomachs. The fire spread across the tall grass, and Bancroft dashed back into his home, or what was left of it, and pulled Medwyn back in with him. He rushed to Jacob and Asia, embracing them in his arms, and pulled them up over his shoulders.

“What is it?” Olivia asked, jumping from behind a chair.

“Dragons!” Bancroft yelled. “Get the children and let’s go.”

Olivia grabbed June and Nicolas’s hands. She pushed through some falling debris and they ran outside. Bancroft was following them, carrying Jacob and Asia. Medwyn pushed past Bancroft and after Olivia.

“The caverns,” Bancroft mumbled as his house fell inward.

Olivia quickly ran. Her young children were slowing her down, but Medwyn came up around Nicholas and grabbed his free hand, leading them toward the dirt road that was getting bigger and bigger with each stride. Sweat poured down Medwyn’s face, but he only glanced back to see the flames engulf the homes.

Whoosh!

A shadow pressed over them and a hard force of wind pushed down on them. They stopped as a dragon lowered, pushing down the tall grass. Asia and Jacob tightened their grips around Bancroft’s neck, and his heart was about to rip through his chest. A normal dragon would have torched them, but this dragon sat there, making noises that Bancroft could not comprehend.

The side of the belly opened up, and seven knights walked out, holding weapons that Bancroft could not understand. They aimed at his family, and he dropped his children to their feet and stepped forward, stretching his arms out across them. One knight signaled to another and Bancroft was still confused.

There was so much sweat he could have bathed in it. His fingers locked in their stiffened position. He almost forgot that he held his arms out, even refused to lower them when they started to get heavy. The knights inched forward and the family huddled closer together. His children grabbed at Bancroft’s pants and held them tightly.

Aaaaahhhh!

Medwyn turned to see a woman running across the field and the knight shot from his weapon. A spear so fast that Medwyn couldn’t see pierced the woman in the back. She fell in the tall grass.

There were loud roars as the dragons landed. Knights crept out of them with their weapons raised and they forced the people to get in a circle. In horror, Bancroft watched as the knights shot at his friends.

One of the knights got closer to Bancroft, his weapon raised. “Do you join the Lucian Empire?”

Bancroft said nothing.

“Do you join the Lucian Empire?” the soldier asked again with a little force behind his breath.

“What is going on here?” Bancroft asked.

Then two figures emerged from a dragon in the middle of the village. One had long, black hair, wearing a black leather trench coat, and the other was wearing a black leather uniform with a cape.

“Do not harm them,” Norcross said.

Ramiel snorted at Norcross.

The soldiers went at ease, and Norcross walked up to them. “This is the beginning of a new world.”

“And what is that?” Bancroft asked, lowering his arms to grab his children’s hands.

“The Lucian Empire.”

The soldiers forced the villagers into a large circle around Norcross and Ramiel. Children were crying as they clutched their parents. Bancroft looked down at Jacob and pulled him closer to his leg.

The women were sobbing; the men were standing still, emotionless, almost like Bancroft. They had to be just as bemused as he was, but their puzzled faces disappeared as the soldiers pressed their weapons on their backs and forced them to walk closer to Norcross.

“You can either join the Lucian Empire or die,” Ramiel snarled.

Bancroft gulped.

Ramiel pointed his blade at every villager until he stopped at a young man with golden hair.

“You,” Ramiel said, staggering to him.

The man tightened his fist.

“Where is your family?” Ramiel asked, getting close enough for the tip of his sword to caress the man’s neck.

The man nervously pointed to two slain bodies. He then turned to Ramiel, his whole body shivering in fear. Ramiel smiled. “Are you going to hurt me?” he asked.

Ramiel lowered his sword and reached for the man’s shirt. He pulled him closer, rubbing his cold cheek against the man’s. Ramiel whispered into his ear, his long slimy tongue flicking off the man’s earlobe. “You can live forever.”

The man shook.

Ramiel’s tongue surfed down the man’s cheek and back into his narrow jaw. The man stared into his two black pits for eyes. “I can taste the fear on you. You are but a child, and I, your master. I want you to join the Lucian Empire.”