“Take Mr. La-Rose back to the dungeons,” Demitri said to his soldiers. “Raid and empty every home. Round up the women, children, and elderly to the market and chain the strong men to wagons and send them to the Illyrium oubliette.”
Demitri grabbed Montague’s arm with an abrasive grip then pulled him in close. “You will translate that diary or I’ll make you wish that you died when the Noahl River flooded and wiped away your home.”
The now silent, smoking flats reeked of death. At the top of the plateau, Indrid Cole’s recent home was being invaded. Once again, there would be no more capital of Men and, most likely, no more king.
“General!” Melborne shouted from the tree line.
Indrid was glad to hear his voice. The medical officer had survived. He laughed at the fact that a man with no combat training had survived the bloodbath. Indrid lay there out of breath, bleeding from his head, ears, and lips.
“What do we do now?” Melborne asked.
Indrid looked at the men standing around him who were waiting for his response. They were all tired, bloody, dirty, and clearly beaten; some much worse than others. There was only him and almost two dozen soldiers left. And they looked to Indrid, their general, to lead.
“We go to Grale. I must claim my throne. As the count, we will muster the Graleon army and take back Ikarus to free our brothers and sisters,” Indrid said with certainty.
Again there was no sign of Apollo. Indrid hoped that she had made it off on her own. “Good for you, my friend, and thank you for guarding me,” he said softly. It amazed him at how much his feelings towards the cat had changed.
“We’re with you, General,” a soldier said.
Indrid led them to the eastern sea docks to board a ship and sail to the island of Grale. As the isles of Mern hugged the southwestern edge of the mainland, the second largest island of Naan was seventy miles off the southeastern coast. With the highest mountains in the world, Grale’s headlands forced breaking waves off the rocky shores of its steep sea cliffs. The seas were rough. Waves whelmed into jagged rocks along the Graleon shores. It took the entire night to reach his homeland. He hadn’t stepped foot on these lands for a long time.
At the docks of Grale, Indrid and his men were greeted by armed soldiers wearing the same coal-black Graleon steel that he wore.
“I am Indrid Cole. We’re survivors of the battle for Ikarus,” Indrid began.
“Thank Gabriel!” the guard said, clearly recognizing him. “Are you in need of shelter—food—and clean water, my lord?”
“I just need to reach the castle,” Indrid said. He felt embarrassed, but he had to ask, “Which way?”
“Of course, my lord. It’s that way!” the man pointed.
Indrid could see the Graleon Mountains from the shore. The kingdom sat within a valley that led to the castle tucked away in the crevice where two mountains met. “I remember,” he said.
“Do you need horses, my lord?” the man asked.
“No. We will be traveling by foot from here. Thank you,” said Indrid. He agreed to lead his men through lands he’d never traveled. When he’d lived at Grale as a child, he was only exposed to the city within the mountain—the castle. After surviving his encounter with deadly magic, he felt brave enough to lead. Indrid and his men scurried through the outskirts of the Graleon kingdom, undulating fields of high grass where nobody would notice them maneuver about.
After making their way through the brush, the towering doors of the mountain were before them.
An old man with an eyepatch approached, “My lord,” he said, bowing.
This man also recognized him. But he scowled at the rest of the soldiers.
Indrid stared at the giant stone doors that suddenly began to roll open. They had to be at least fifty feet tall, fifteen feet wide, and ten feet thick. Things had changed since he’d left years ago. He didn’t remember ever entering the castle this way. Everything had been rebuilt after the fires more than ten years ago when Indrid was sent to Ikarus.
“Is this how the count enters his castle? By stepping into darkness,” Indrid asked. Maybe it was a test, he thought.
“No, my lord, anyone can enter the mountain, but only a man privy to Graleon symbolism can reach the castle from here,” the man said, “You must prove that you are who you are, and to claim the throne of Cole, your blood must be pure. Sir Simon Atikan awaits your company in the count’s castle,” the man said, holding his arm out to the black space.
Indrid waved into the unknown at his men, “Bup, bup, bup!” the man muttered, “Only you, Indrid Cole, son of Arland, may enter to prove yourself a true Graleon.” He handed Indrid a torch.
When the doors shut behind him, Indrid saw a small lamp sitting next to the door. When he lit it, the candles mounted across the stone walls that surrounded him like a maze suddenly illuminated a hallway. It curved out in both directions with statues of deer mounted along the sides of the walkways. The deer was a cherished animal in Grale as it provided much of the kingdom’s meat. It was even on the Graleon shield.
Straight ahead, there was another door. But first he wanted to investigate the rounded hallway to see what was on the other side. And instead of another door on the opposite side, there was a spiral staircase leading both up and down. He walked around the other side and ended up back at the door he had first entered from outside.
There was no other choice: he would have to go through the door or take the stairs up or down. He chose the door. When he walked in, the room looked the same. He noticed nothing different about the room
