Marked (26 page)

Komir struck first. He was no longer afraid, or at least had his fear under control. The beast’s long, sharp, bloodthirsty blades slashed chaotically through the air around him. It took all Komir’s skill and agility to avoid being sliced to pieces. He was fully aware that if he was caught or knocked down, his opponent—who was much stronger—would finish him off. A mistake would mean death. The pain in his shoulder made itself known with every move he made. He subtly moved sideways; the beast’s paw grazed his neck. Not allowing that to shake him, he cut the guard’s right knee with a swift slash. Wounded, the monster’s support leg buckled and its knee slammed to the floor as it furiously lashed out with its right arm. Komir dodged the paw by nimbly bending his body backwards, but the beast threw itself at him with a terrifying roar.

Seeing what was happening to Komir, Kayti looked for Hartz and found him impaling the second of the guardian beasts on his spear and forcing it against a column with all his might. For a moment she watched the clash of the two colossal warriors, each deploying every ounce of physical strength they possessed. Just as she was about to call out to Hartz, a paw flashed in front of her eyes and cut into her chin.

The third monster was upon her.

Fear consumed her.
For the love of the sacred Objects of Power! Two inches lower and I’d be dead. React! This thing is nothing more than another enemy—a strong enemy, but not invincible. Don’t let its size intimidate you! Remember your martial training. Concentrate, woman!
Her fear changed to anger, then to pure rage. She struck a horizontal blow that bounced off the creature’s cuirass. Infuriated, it roared.

“Evil beast!” she screamed at the monster, unleashing her fury with a well-aimed thrust to its groin. An almost human shriek exploded from the feline’s throat.
That would have killed any man; he would have bled to death in minutes. But you’re not going to give me the satisfaction of dying, are you?
The answer was conclusive: a fearsome strike with its paw. The sharp blades sank into the side of her armor plate. A sharp pain confirmed she had been wounded.

“Foul mongrel!” Blocking out her pain, Kayti wailed as she lifted her sword and cut off the arm that had just injured her. The monster stumbled backwards, roaring in pain.

“I have you now!” Making her comeback, Kayti executed a spin with her sword above her head and beheaded the beast.

“Yes!” she exclaimed euphorically, punching the air with her blood-encrusted fist.

Looking to her right she saw Hartz being rammed by his attacker, flying backwards, and finally landing on the floor with a powerful thud. The guard, now free of Hartz’s sword, was already hurtling itself at him. Kayti was about to help him when she heard a howl of pain coming from her left. She turned and saw Komir on the floor, fighting for his life, the other beast on top of him.

Damn it! What do I do? Which of them do I help? Who?

Indecision gripped her like iron shackles restraining her legs and hands. She could not decide, and her hesitation could cost them their lives.

Without warning, the clergyman of the Light heroically rushed in to try to help Komir, waving the torches and screaming his head off like he was possessed by the devil himself. When the beast saw the priest running toward it with fire in his hands, it hesitated an instant, seemingly bewildered. Komir seized the moment, rolling to one side and jumping to his feet.

The moment she saw this, Kayti’s decision was made. Though exhausted by the prolonged combat and the weight of her armor, her tired legs propelled her forward. She jumped in to aid Hartz, still on his back on the floor, fighting heart and soul to keep the beast’s claws from tearing open his neck. The great Norriel was holding the beast by the wrists and was exerting an enormous effort; his face was as red as a ripe tomato. Kayti moved in behind the beast and stuck her sword into its side. It freed one of its paws and swiped it over Kayti’s face; she ducked down in terror.

From the floor, Hartz inflicted a powerful blow on the monster; it instantly spun toward him. The Norriel struck it again, even more powerfully. Kayti seized the moment and, with both hands on her sword, decapitated the brutal enemy. Kayti watched as the lion head fell to the floor and rolled a few feet away. She felt like she was lost in a nightmare, unable to wake up.

“Thank... you... That wasn’t... necessary... I... had him,” muttered the Norriel, trying unsuccessfully to catch his breath.

Kayti turned toward Komir and found that the priest and the Norriel had just somehow set fire to the last of the guards and it was wandering aimlessly, enveloped in flames and roaring in pain as the unrelenting inferno devoured its body.

Exhausted but relieved, Kayti fell to her knees and looked at Hartz who was still lying on the floor unable to move.

“Are you all right?” asked the concerned cleric, running over to Hartz. “Are you badly injured?”

“No, just a few scratches. Nothing serious,” replied Hartz.

Kayti nodded, too tired to speak. The wound to her side was excruciatingly painful.

“Nothing a good sewing job and a bit of Norriel balm can’t fix,” commented Komir as he studied a couple of cuts on his arms. “We have a curved needle for suturing in the backpack, and some yellow moss ointment that Suason, the Healer, made me for fighting infections. Hey, Kayti—you have a claw stuck in your ribs. Are you all right?”

Kayti groaned. “It punctured my armor and gouged into my flesh, but I don’t think it’s too deep—though it really does hurt. No blade has ever pierced this armor before.”

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of pulling out the claw and sewing up the wound—I’m good at patching up warriors. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to sew this pig-headed guy up,” said Komir casually, trying to play down the seriousness of her wound.

Kayti smiled but then the pain overwhelmed her, and she had to sit down.

“For a second there I thought those monsters were going to do us in,” confessed the priest as he examined one of the decapitated figures. “You are all extraordinary fighters. Luckily, your skillfulness with weapons saved us. Thanks be to the Light for protecting us from that ancient magic!”

“What... What were those things?” asked Hartz, breathing a bit easier now.

“Well, they look like some kind of half-man, half-lion monsters. It seems like they came back to life when that golden substance touched them—it was like it imbued them with life,” explained the priest, looking at one of the inscriptions of the mystical runes that had generated the golden liquid.

“It’s a good thing we found a way to kill them. They were incredibly strong,” said Komir as he bandaged a cut on his arm. “We owe you, Father. Thank you so much. I will never forget it.”

“You’re welcome. I really don’t know how I thought of it—I think it was out of pure terror. And, by the way—the door on the other side of the room opened when you killed the last of the guards,” said the clergyman, pointing excitedly.

“Well, I don’t think it would be a very good idea to go through it,” expressed Hartz. “This whole underground world reminds me of a huge tomb. It’s giving me the shivers. And don’t even ask me what I think about the magic and those monsters!”

“I think you’ve hit the nail precisely on the head, big Norriel,” said the priest. “If I am not mistaken, that is exactly what this place is: an underground crypt—and we just conquered its guards.”

“Not all of them; there is at least one left—the one who spoke the words of power we heard that woke up the guards,” Kayti said, an expression of worry on her face.

“True—I completely forgot about him,” acknowledged Komir. “Sorry, but I have to continue on… even if it is hard… I need answers, I really need them.”

“I was afraid of that...” said Hartz resignedly. “You can count on me, friend.”

“Let’s take care of our wounds and get some rest. Once we’ve recuperated we’ll go on—very, very carefully,” Komir declared worried.

“Let’s keep our eyes open; there could be more danger waiting for us up there,” said the priest of the Light, “ancient, arcane danger.” 

Isuzeni was uneasy. Preoccupied, his spirit stirred restlessly; his frame of mind more brooding than usual. He pondered silently, his slanted eyes closed. The news he’d received from Tremia had not been at all what he had been hoping for. How he despised that immense continent on the other side of the seas and its pathetic, round-eyed, long-nosed men.

The Dark Queen, conqueror and now sovereign of all Toyomi—their beloved continent—was disgusted ... thoroughly disgusted. And this was a problem for everyone, without exception. Their mistress’ fury was without parallel, so any misstep or failure was inconceivable. The punishment for such offenses: unthinkable torture so cruel that death would be a blessing for anyone unfortunate enough to have to endure her wrath. Even he, her closest and most devoted servant who had spent years in her service, ran the risk of ending up in the torture chamber in the depths of the royal palace’s dungeon. There, the agonizing cries of the Queen’s enemies carried on incessantly, like an inescapable nightmare.

It is imperative I sort out the course of events without delay before another mishap would further infuriate my mistress.

Isuzeni moved away from the large window of his luxurious office where he planned and managed his Queen’s schemes. Located in the Imperial Palace’s west wing, adjacent to the large royal chamber where Yuzumi carried out her desires, Isuzeni felt he was both too close to and too far from his mistress. That day, in particular, he felt she was uncomfortably close, even if six Imperial Moyuki Guards were fearlessly guarding the room. Like black marble statues they remained silent behind their macabre masks, faithful to their mission: to protect him from harm. He was well accustomed to their presence—his own personal guard, appointed by the Queen. It was actually quite a privilege; it meant the Dark Queen kept his well-being in mind and that was, in and of itself, an unequaled accomplishment.

He sat down behind the exquisite carved oak desk and grasped the edges with his small, yellowish hands. Contact with the elegant oak calmed him. He sighed as he observed the imposing map of Toyomi above his desk, its nine kingdoms clearly demarcated.

“I am the Queen’s right-hand man, her personal Counselor, the most powerful man on this entire continent. I am the High Priest of the Cult of Imork, the most powerful cult in the Empire. My wishes are instantaneously fulfilled; my word is law. I should fear nothing.”

I am wealth.

I am happiness.

I am death.

No one dares get in the way of my desires; I am a demigod in these lands.

He completely relaxed and exhaled.

The reason for his lady’s anger?

The ever-elusive Marked.

He had miraculously slipped through his fingers and Isuzeni still could not explain how. The White Tigers had never failed in a hunting mission. Somehow the Marked had managed to escape them and had fled the highlands. An unexpected surprise. A serious setback in the Dark Queen’s plans. He had to find the Marked and kill him, whatever the cost. This was imperative; nothing in the world was more important.

So, The Premonition had to be prevented no matter what.

The Premonition...

Just thinking about it, a cold sweat began to run down his temple—tangible evidence that his level of anxiety was rapidly increasing. The ominous Premonition
...
from the day it came to be, it had forever marked the Dark Queen’s destiny and his own.

He stood up and resolutely walked to the tall cabinet behind his desk. He placed the golden key in the lock and opened it, then looked for the coveted black velvet box.

The precious object was resting inside it.

To find and obtain that mystical Object of Power had taken countless years and innumerable headaches. The Dark Queen herself had tirelessly searched for it from the moment she’d learned of its existence.

And it had been that Object that had produced The Premonition.

Many men had lost their lives in a vain attempt to hide that power from the Dark Queen. But nothing and no one had been able to stop his mistress.

Isuzeni remembered it like it was yesterday... the face of the hapless King Ikotomo the day the Dark Queen’s army vanquished his troops and took his palace. His eyes were the living embodiment of defeat—two lifeless, empty wells that were painfully aware of the fatal destiny in store for them. In his trembling hands was the black velvet box that he had tried to keep from the Dark Queen. King Ikotomo’s death would go down in the annals of Toyomi’s history as one of the most violent and atrocious. The Dark Queen had ordered that the tragic King be skinned alive until there was not a speck of dermis still attached to his body, and the shreds of his skin were to be scattered across his former kingdom. Using dark enchantments, she was able to prolong the poor man’s life; just as he would arrive at the threshold of death, she would cruelly deny him its release. The merciless torture went on for months. After that, she had ordered that his eyes be gouged out; days later, that his tongue be cut out. He was tied to a wooden post secured on a wagon and paraded around his former territories so that all would see and understand what would await those who dared to cross the Dark Queen. Finally, the unfortunate soul died, his mind long since lost in an abyss of madness.

The Dark Queen’s desires must not be denied. She wanted the Object, and what the Queen longs for, the Queen shall have.

He opened the fine, velvet box and took the priceless Object from it.

The Skull of Destiny.

The feel of his hand against the crystal of the translucent human skull comforted him. Its deadly, freezing cold was oddly soothing.

Just a short time... only a moment or two...

He knew that prolonged exposure of the skull was lethal to humans... No, there would be no premonition—not for him, much to his dismay. Only a select few, incredibly special individuals could make use of the power within the Skull of Destiny. Unfortunately, he was not one of them. But the Dark Queen did possess that invaluable ability. She had been blessed with the talent of invoking premonitions using the Skull’s mystic powers. Even so, Isuzeni was not about to give up. He would continue studying the arcane object, uncovering little by little the black magic required to control it. And one day, he would succeed. He was painfully aware that his Gift was not yet sufficiently developed or powerful enough to master the Skull, but it was only a matter of time. He would find a way to break into its secret and, sooner or later, the Skull of Destiny would be his. Just the thought that he would be able to see into the future, to catch a glimpse of what was to come, made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Someday.

He would do it.

He would invoke premonitions...

It was an unbelievable power, having the ability to know beforehand what significant events would transpire and being able to prepare for them. And even more important— what made the Skull so valuable—was the possibility that those events could be changed if he so desired. Destiny was not written in stone as the greater part of the ignorant populace might believe; it could be changed if a powerful force were to do what was required at exactly the right moment. That would not be at all easy; it would be maddeningly difficult, in fact, and only within the reach of a few chosen elite. But it was possible. Isuzeni had been a witness to such an occurrence; he had seen it with his own eyes. He had helped his Queen change a destiny, to modify the outcome of the most important battle of their lives when the future of the continent as well as the life of his mistress—and his own—were at stake.

Isuzeni tightened his fist.
Destiny is in the hands of the one with guts enough to seize it and make it his own! The rest are nothing more than mere lambs whose final destiny is irrevocably the slaughter. They are nothing more than food for Imork, master of the eternal night, who waits patiently to devour their feeble souls.

The Dark Queen should have been defeated in the great Battle of Ijosi; the ravens should have pecked out her eyes; the hyenas should have devoured her decaying flesh after her army was defeated. Isuzeni had witnessed the image with his own eyes as it emanated from the Skull of Destiny... the Dark Queen with her throat slit open, lying dead in a green meadow as King Osimuri, surrounded by his victorious warriors, spit on her corpse. The Queen’s army, completely annihilated. Thousands of loyal warriors dead, rivers of blood bathing the tall grasses. Death and destruction, the beast of war’s inevitable reward. The Skull’s premonition had so deeply impacted him that Isuzeni expected he would never be able to forget it. Those horrific images visited him in his nightmares, and he would awaken soaked in sweat. The Dark Queen, however, who had invoked the premonition with her power, had watched the images in silence, undaunted, as if observing some alter ego and not herself. She’d shown no sign of fear upon seeing her own death. At the end of that terrible premonition, the Dark Queen had placed the Skull back in its box and, without missing a beat, had looked him straight in the eye and abruptly stated, “That destiny will not take place.” And then she had left the room.

And, in fact, that was exactly what happened.

That destiny did
not
come to pass.

It was altered. More than that—it was completely avoided by the Dark Queen, with Isuzeni’s humble collaboration. The mission took more than three years of arduous work, risky political intrigue, middle-of-the-night assassinations, bribery and all other sorts of coercion. But finally, the battle on the Ijosi plateau was won. The Dark Queen had been victorious when she should have perished along with her whole army. It was precisely that battle that had changed the course of the entire war, the future of nine nations, causing the winds of triumph to blow in favor of the red flags of the Dark Queen’s army, urging them on toward the final victory. Two years of brutal, bloody war later, she ordered that King Osimuri, the last monarch standing, be impaled at the entrance of his ravaged royal palace. She had won the war. The nine kingdoms had finally succumbed to her power. Yuzumi, the Dark Queen, thus became the Conqueror of Toyomi and the entire continent was under her dominion.

It seems as if this all transpired decades ago... I can scarcely believe it took place less than a season ago.

Lost in thought, he looked at the Skull, the object of his desires. He had been able to verify that the premonitions were always fulfilled if there were no intervention. That is why the Object was so valuable. The images the Skull provided were like a puzzle in which, instead of pieces that had to fit together, the pieces were the disparate images of different people, places, and even times. It was extremely difficult to understand how those pieces fit together; they were distorted visions like the ripples on the surface of a lake after a stone is thrown in... pictorial representations to be interpreted, related, and deciphered. They all were part of a specific event—a destiny as yet unwritten, undeveloped, and therefore still preventable.

The capricious Skull of Destiny... uncontrollable, unpredictable, and with a power that was untamable—even by the Dark Queen herself. Its premonitions occurred whenever and however its incomprehensible desires were so moved. And it always consumed the pure essence of life around it. 

Isuzeni sighed.
If I could control you, make you predict my future whenever I wanted to... I would be the most powerful man in the world!
Looking into its empty crystal eyes he was filled with ambition.
The Dark Queen has named me as your guardian. Nothing must happen to you; I shall protect you from ignorant hands, and shall do so with my life. No one will ever touch you, of that you can be sure. You are a treasure with which the Dark Queen has entrusted me, a treasure of unimaginable worth—though I am sure you already know that, don’t you? Yes, I am sure you do. This trust allows me the advantage of experimenting... and learning... and I will learn as long as the Dark Queen confers this privilege upon me, even if I must risk my life to do so.

He carefully placed the powerful magical Object on the map that was lying on the desk, then placed his hand on the icy crystal and concentrated on the Marked, on the search for him, on locating him. A bright sparkling that shone from the Skull told him he’d awakened it. Instantly the Skull began to drain the life from Isuzeni’s body.

But once again, no premonition.

Nothing.

He felt the Skull feeding off his life force, absorbing it, but he was unable to dominate its power. After a brief span of time he pulled back his hands and reclined on his chair, totally exhausted.

Damn it! Damn you, Marked! I will find you and will kill you, whatever it takes. It is time for more drastic measures.

Clapping twice, he summoned his personal servant.

“You called, Master?” said the aged servant who was dressed in a simple, long silk tunic. He joined his hands together and bowed.

“Bring my thirteen disciples to the Chamber of Sacrifices at midnight,” commanded Isuzeni.

“As you order, Master,” responded the servant, quickly exiting.

A few minutes before midnight, the thirteen disciples, acolytes of the Cult of Imork, made their entrance into the Temple’s Chamber of Sacrifices. They advanced slowly, two-by-two, with the thirteenth closing the procession. All were dressed in identical fashion: long, garnet-colored tunics that had bold golden symbols around the edges. In the middle of their chests shimmered the head of a golden skeleton encircled by two interlaced serpents whose heads faced one another—the emblem of the Cult of Imork. Hanging over their backs were black velvet capes with the same golden symbol. The men, zealots through and through, had been personally selected by Isuzeni. They possessed the Gift, and the High Priest had meticulously trained them for a long time. Each and every one of the thirteen acolytes would kill or give up his life, without question or hesitation, at the snap of their master’s fingers. And this filled Isuzeni with immense pride.