The energy maelstrom continued to spin like a drunken tornado around the room. Through the howl of sound Dhalryk heard several loud snaps and the room brightened suddenly. A great chunk of ceiling fell crashing to the ground to his left and burst into large pieces. One of these fragments crashed into his hip and sent him sprawling onto his back. All around the room stone descended with ground-shaking impacts until the top of the Citadel of Keeping was no more. Shielding his eyes from the wind Dhalryk could see what appeared to be rivulets and waves of a transparent purple liquid, or perhaps a super dense fog, coursing and flowing out of the vanished ceiling into the vibrant blue desert sky. It began to slow as he watched, the steady course narrowing down to what appeared to be sticky strands, like colored trails of honey, and then these too were gone. The fragments of the stone seemed to cool, stop glowing, and returned to their former dead ashen color.
The stinging wind left with the departure of the released magic, but not the pain in his side. Dhalryk stood shakily and surveyed the rubble under the brightness of the desert sun. Batoda’s body had been completely crushed by the falling masonry, and many of his followers were also partially concealed, their dying crimson turning a dark brown as it was absorbed by the drifting sands. On the far side of the room the floor had given out and a dark pit gave passage to the level below.
Dhalryk turned back to the doorway he had entered through and gasped in surprise. There, amidst the broken stones, sat Jekka DuRell. She turned and looked at him with a distant look in her eyes.
“I am back.” She stated flatly.
Dhal scrambled over the rubble to her side. “My God! Jekka! The poisons didn’t kill you! I saw you fall and thought you were dead.”
The raven hair girl stared at him as if comprehending nothing. Dhalryk suddenly felt uneasy. Her eyes were different. They had seemed duller, as if they were veiled in clouds or a strange milky pallor. “Jekka? Are you all right?”
Her face twitched and she squinted in the sunlight, trying to look around the room. She caught sight of the smashed stone and stood up to get a better look at it. Dhalryk watched her with concern. “These are ruins. Old ruins.” She stated.
“Yes. Don’t you remember? I don’t think you’re well.” Dhal pulled his water-skin out and opened it. “Here, have a drink and rest.”
Jekka stopped, looked at his offering, and then looked back to Dhalryk.
“My name is not Jekka.”
“What do you mean? Of course you’re Jekka. Jekka DuRell. Don’t you remember?” He reached out to touch her shoulder and she flinched back from him. Raising a slender hand she pointed to the broken stone.
“Within that stone slept my essence, my soul, and my memories. But now, somehow, I am here.” The girl looked down at her body in confusion and then back at Dhalryk.
“My name is Ithagar.”
Dhalryk stepped back and away from her, his eyes landing on his discarded sword by the dais steps. She raised her hands and shook her head. “Please! Do not take up your blade! I mean no harm, and I’m as confused as you.”
“Where do you come from?” Snapped Dhalryk. Watching her closely, he moved over toward his blade.
“From Garachok, I was apprentice to Elethir Devin.” The thing wearing Jekka’s body sat down on a stone and looked at him mournfully. Dhalryk shook his head.
“I’ve never heard of Garachok, or your master either.” He bent down and retrieved his sword.
“Where am I?” She asked.
“You are in the Cheytagaroth dunes, in one of the thousand ruins that they sometimes see fit to reveal.” His figure relaxed some, but he did not sit or lower the weapon.
“Ruins? I come from the nation of Cheytagaroth! Garachok the Azure is one of our great cities.” Dharlyk tensed at her words.
“You're talking about the time of the dark kingdom and their wizard kings.” She nodded.
“Yes, our rulers, the Sorcerates, are all wizards.” She stands and looks at the ancient room around her. “What has happened?”
“Centuries ago your kings almost destroyed everything, their empire vanished and they left the world in madness. Beasts and creatures walk the earth as a result, but the Cheytagar do not have to deal with the trouble they caused, because there are none left. Your nation is rightfully dead.” Ithagar shifted uneasily under his intense glare and evident hatred of the long gone Cheytagar.
“I had nothing to do with all that. I was simply a servant, an apprentice...” Her milky eyes began to tear up. “I don’t understand what’s happened...”
Dhalryk stood in thought, weighing his options. After a time, he sighed and sheathed his sword. “Perhaps you don’t, but either way, I’m not the one to figure it out. We should bring you to men wiser than me. I intended to travel to Rogmara, but perhaps I’ll take you a bit further to Iridian Doorstep, the Caldignartian city of scholars.”
Jekka, turned Ithagar, looked at him in surprise. “Do you think they will be able to explain what has occurred?”
Dhalryk walked over to the smashed stone and retrieved a fragment the length of his forearm. “I don’t know, but with a bit of this stone, and you there to explain, perhaps.”
She stood and smiled at him. Dhalryk’s mind raced at the sight of her smile. It was not Jekka, but he wanted to smile back regardless. He clamped down on his emotions and scowled at her instead.
“We should be going. There is nothing left here for us but the dead.”
To the eye, the two departed in very much the same way as they entered, but the eye was deceived, and as they headed off across the blistering sands, Dhalryk knew, that nothing was the same.
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Next week we start in on Chapter Two: The Road to Boughs Shadow!
Catch up up on the series or read more mini-stories HERE!
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