The sun had risen and made its long, slow march across the sky as they went, keeping a close eye on their progress. Braulor and Tagan had alternated walking and running throughout the day, stopping only once as they tried to put as much distance as they could between them and the Citadel patrol that pursued them. They hadn't heard any more barking or howling since the first instance in the early morning. Hopefully the clothes that they had planted near the river had thrown the patrol off and it had gone in another direction.
Braulor didn't want to take any chances and he and Tagan left the trail at several points along the way and then doubled back in the hopes that if they were still being followed some false trails would hinder their pursuers.
"I think we can take a break here." Braulor stopped, hands on his waist as he looked around.
Tagan walked straight past Braulor to a log on the side of the trail and sat down, grateful for the rest. He was having a tough time keeping up the pace Braulor had set. His legs were burning from the exertion, almost as much his lungs.
Braulor was tired as well but he didn't feel comfortable sitting and he went back a ways, toward their pursuers. He stood with his ear to wind, head tilted, as he listened. Content that they were in no immediate danger he came back and joined Tagan.
They sat in silence for some time, Tagan breathing in rapid gulps as he tried to recover.
"Who was that, that, reptile looking man at the Citadel?" For some reason the man’s scaly appearance popped into Tagan’s head. Thinking of it made his skin crawl.
Braulor knew who Tagan was speaking of. “I’m not sure, but there are rumors of the Citadel being involved with the occult.”
“I’ve never heard of the Citadel being involved with evil beings before.”
“I’m not surprised. It’s something the Citadel would be sure to keep a tight lid on. But out here, away from the Citadel, information is able to flow more freely.”
“Do you believe that it was a demon?”
Braulor thought for a few moments before answering. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t human.”
Tagan nodded in agreement remembering what Meyu Kwi had told him about the beings the Draepkos had created, the Mrüg. He wondered if that’s what he had seen.
“I’m not even sure they exist to be honest with you. But after seeing that man, I don’t know. If it’s not human then what is it?” Braulor went silent as he pondered.
But Braulor’s mind was on Alrei Yqu’s appearance in the Citadel. Why was he there? Why did he send me to rescue Tagan if he could get into the Citadel anyway? It didn't make any sense. None of this made sense.
Braulor started to speak and then stopped, unsure how much to reveal to Tagan. Alrei Yqu had told him that Tagan was his brother but now, could he even believe that? Maybe Alrei Yqu just told him that to motivate him, to coerce him into doing what he wanted.
Tagan was also struggling with what he should tell Braulor and he sat staring at the ground and reviewed what Meyu Kwi revealed to him. He weighed the situation and decided Braulor had risked his life to get Tagan out of the Citadel and continued to put his life on the line as they tried to evade capture. If he couldn’t trust Braulor, who could he trust? "After we fell from the Citadel and I was unconscious, I was in the other world I told you about." Tagan was tentative, realizing how strange it sounded.
"The world your ability lets you to see into." Braulor put his own thoughts aside to listen.
"Yes, but this time I felt more connected to it than I did to Brankin Huoh. I don’t’ know, it’s so hard to explain." Tagan’s line of thought was all over the place, unsure where he wanted to go.
"I've seen a lot of things in my travels Tagan. Trust me. I am not going to judge you.”
Tagan sighed and he recanted the entire story to Braulor. He started with how he found out he was different than other people when he was still young. How his parents had a healer work over him, trying to rid him of his affliction. It hadn't worked and Tagan continued to be able to see into the other world although he tried to suppress it as much as he could. Tagan admitted that he reveled in the sanctuary of the other world at times. When he needed it, Quanna Eresse was a place of solitude for him.
Braulor didn't shake his head; roll his eyes or anything of the sort that would indicate he didn’t believe Tagan. Braulor listened intently to every word as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.
Encouraged, Tagan pressed on, right into what happened while he was unconscious after their escape from the Citadel. He related what Meyu Kwi had told him about the separating of the races that started after the Draepkos came into the world and poisoned the minds of people with promises of riches and power. How this had caused the degeneration of a peaceful existence into a world filled with war and destruction, as those that lusted after control did anything they could to get it.
"And this Meyu Kwi said that the world can be restored to the way it once was?"
Tagan nodded his face solemn as he thought about the task that lay ahead of him. It didn’t sound so easy all of a sudden.
Living outside the walls of the Citadel Braulor knew that life should be better than how it was. It was clans like the Greejon that knew what it was like to live out from under the shadow of the Citadel’s rulers and to live free. "And did he say how we are supposed to do that?"
“Find the Amber Eye. Find it and return it to the Lefirte."
Braulor’s looked at Tagan with blank eyes as his thoughts drifted away. He was well aware of the myth of the Amber Eye. Braulor had invested time trying to find it himself. He had been searching for it when he was caught in the avalanche that Alrei Yqu saved him from. "The Amber Eye lives only in myth Tagan. Legends and folk tales from days of yesteryear that people relay over campfires." Braulor stood up and was pacing in front of Tagan, punctuating each point by slapping one hand into the other but there it was again, the Amber Eye. As Tagan had gone through the retelling of his experience in Quanna Eresse, something had been niggling at the bag of his brain but Braulor couldn’t quite put a finger on it. When Tagan mentioned the Amber Eye, something clicked. It was the names. Meyu Kwi. Alrei Yqu. They sounded so similar Braulor was beginning to wonder if it was the same person. How could it be that these men, men that only appear to Tagan and Braulor under similar conditions and both concerned with finding the Amber Eye?
Tagan stared at Braulor, caught off guard by his tirade. "I thought the same thing. That's what I said to Meyu Kwi but he told me that when the world was first separated there was a person with the same ability I have that came into our world in search of the eye. She can help us to find the Amber Eye."
Braulor stopped his pacing and resumed his seat beside Tagan. He didn’t want to get into his suspicions until he had more time to evaluate. "Where are we supposed to find this person?"
"Meyu Kwi told me she is in Dwenar Gliv."
Braulor furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowing. "Dwenar Gliv?” He had never travelled to their closest neighboring land but he didn’t relish the idea either. If the rumors were to be believed, Dwenar Gliv was no better than Brankin Huoh. “Dwenar Gliv is a big place Tagan. Where are we even supposed to start looking?”
"She was supposed to have set up camp on the edges of Dwenar Gliv, in the Knalb mountains.” Tagan was beginning to feel defeated.
Braulor was buoyed by this news. Vjeinka Rise had an entrance that they could use as a launching point. "That's a long journey from here and we still have to shake the Citadel patrol. And who even knows for sure if the Amber Eye is real? I still have my doubts." Braulor trailed off. The Greejon clan had crept into his mind. Braulor remembered the situation with Jolon and wondered how Tyran was making out.
"There was one more thing that Meyu Kwi told me."
"What would that be?"
"My dad fathered a child before me." Looking Braulor in the face, Tagan could really see a resemblance now.
“What does that have to with anything?”
“It’s you. You’re my brot
her.”
Braulor didn't say anything. He returned Tagan's stare for a moment and looked away. Alrei Yqu had told him the same thing and with everything that had happened since he found out, that bit of information had been pushed to the back of his memory. Not forgotten, just overlooked, and now here it was again from this boy he had saved. Braulor didn't know if he had really believed Alrei Yqu when he had told him Tagan was his brother. Perhaps that was why it had been shoved into the dark depths of his memory. Maybe a part of Braulor didn't want to believe it because of what that would mean. How it would change his life but it seemed there was no way to avoid it. "Alrei Yqu told me the same thing. That was what convinced me to get you out of the Citadel."
A bark echoed up the valley and Tagan and Braulor both jumped to their feet and took off down the trail.
Draax leaned on the staff and looked up at the waxing moon. It wasn't quite half full yet but it lent an eerie glow to the valley below nonetheless. He was almost through the Infrey trail but he was sure he didn’t need to worry about it anymore. After his escape from the mound and the destruction of the shades, Draax went back up the trail, retracing the way he fled as best he could. He recovered the pack that he had thrown in frustration at one of the shades. Inside his pack Draax found a large, square piece of cloth and used it to brace his left arm in a sling. He hadn’t regained any use of the arm and wondered if he ever would. Try as hard as he could, he couldn’t make the arm move or budge in any way. It was like it didn’t belong to him anymore. With his arm secure Draax took a look around the immediate area but didn't hold out any hope. It didn't take long to discover the remains of some of his men. Each of them had been killed in a gruesome way.
Draax shook his head and frowned. He wasn't sad. He felt alone. Abandoned. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in long time and another reminder of his growing sentiment to leave this type of life behind. Most of Draax's adult life had been spent raiding and plundering as a member of one gang or another. He had assembled a group of mercenaries that, maybe he didn't trust in the full sense of the word, but knew that when push came to shove, his men would have his back and he would have theirs. It was as close as many of them came to having a family and now it was all gone. He stood and reflected on the loss of his men and then salvaged what he could. He took the best weapon he could find, latched it to his belt and after a look back at the carnage, turned and marched down the trail leaving the broken, mangled bodies of his men behind for the carrion. It was the mercenary way, every man for himself. They would have done the same thing and he would’ve expected no less.
Draax had been walking nonstop since he had destroyed the shadow people, as he called them, buried in the very mound where Draax had made his last stand. Where he had found this mysterious staff he was now leaning upon. He stood up straight and lifted the staff to eye level so he could get a closer look. It was the first time he had done so since he found it. There had been no time before as he focused on getting off the Infrey trail and away from whatever those shadow people had been.
The staff was symmetrical from top to bottom with strange glyphs and runes etched along its length; rounded off at each end in a dome shape. It shimmered in the moonlight as if it housed some sort of sentience that longed to be free. Draax stared it for long minutes, his gaze roving from top to bottom and back again, his attention rapt by its extraordinary beauty. Draax found it hard to stop staring at it. Regaining his focus, Draax looked down the trail again and started the descent to its end, glad to have the staff to keep him company.
The day was still very young when Draax awoke. He took a long drink of water, casting a wary eye around as he did so. He had walked through the previous day and part of the night, not wanting to spend another minute on the trail if he could help it. Once he was clear of the trail he had forced himself to march another mile or so before he found a place he felt would be safe. It was a little ways off the trail, in a patch of thick bush that he hoped would shield him from being spotted by any passersby. Draax settled down for the night and had a fitful sleep as he tried to find a position that didn't feel uncomfortable because of his arm. When he did sleep, his dreams were filled with dark tidings and images of terrible events. Birds had awoken him as they chattered at one another in the early morning sun.
Draax sat for a bit, enjoying the solitude, and tried working his injured arm. He found he was getting some mobility back as he was able to rotate it a tiny amount one way and then the other. Still very stiff but the pain seemed to be lessening. A good sign.
With Infrey trail behind him, Draax turned his thoughts to what he was going to do now. His men were all dead so there was no way he could mount an attack on the Greejon clan. He could try and piece together a new group of men but it would take too much time to find enough men that he trusted. Time he didn't have to spare.
Jolon had said he was going to take over the council of the Greejon clan. If he had succeeded then Draax could approach Jolon and try to force him to honor the deal they had struck. Draax recalled Lyrell had told him that Braulor had been captured by a Citadel patrol. Braulor would never be seen alive again outside the Citadel walls, which worked in Draax’s favor. Jolon may not know that the assassination attempt on Braulor had failed and gone ahead with his next move.
Draax’s glimmer of hope faded when he remembered that Lyrell said that a second man had been with Braulor when they attacked. Nobody knew who the other man was and he had not been there when the Citadel patrol captured Braulor. Draax could only surmise that the mysterious unknown was from the Greejon clan and would have returned there by now. The only remaining question was whether or not the mystery man would inform Jolon of what happened. If Jolon was planning a coup on the Greejon council, he probably didn’t trust too many people. Would Jolon trust information from the man that had been with Braulor? Draax sighed and got to his feet. Trying to wrap his brain around all these variables was making his head hurt. He leaned down, picked up his pack and managed to hitch it over his good shoulder. He had been so tired when he stopped last night; he hadn't even bothered to get out his bedroll or anything else. He flopped on the ground, exhausted. Stooping once more, Draax picked up the staff and used it to help him stand upright. He was just going to have to wing it. Approach Jolon and see what happens.
Jolon strolled through camp, a group of men trailing him taking note as Jolon pointed out issues that required attention. It was the same mundane things that they always had to attend to after every move. Tents needed to be properly pegged down, pens for livestock needed to be sturdy and secure, water needed to be fetched, things along those lines. But as vigilant as he appeared to be Jolon's mind was nowhere near the boring task at hand. There was one thought that had been pre-occupying his mind for days now. It was always there, like a fly, buzzing around looking for a place to land. When he was busy, it sat at the back of his mind waiting for show time. When he retired in the evening or at other quiet times during the day, the thought took center stage, keeping him awake at night. He pondered about it, turning it over and over in his mind, trying to develop a way to use it to his advantage.
It was Alrei Yqu. This person Jolon learned that had befriended Braulor; the same person that Braulor had left camp to meet, never to return. On a personal level, Jolon was quite happy about that part and would be quite content if he never set eyes on Braulor again but something told him he wouldn't be that lucky.
What Jolon couldn't stop thinking about was the power Alrei Yqu must wield. Even more important, how could he come to share in that power, use it for his gain, for his aspirations. He had tried everything he could think of. He would lie on his bed, thinking the name over and over again, trying to project that one thought out into to world and see if there were a response. There was nothing, although Jolon wasn't sure what he should be looking for anyway. Tyran's description had been so vague that he didn't have much to go on. Consumed with the thought, Jolon had taken to watching for black birds that were in the nearby area, hoping that
one had been sent to Braulor that he could intercept. That yielded nothing either.
It seemed that Tyran had kept the details of Jolon's threats to himself, so that was a plus. Tyran wasn't as simple as he thought though and he caught Tyran dogging his steps on more than one occasion. This made Jolon very suspicious. Not just of Tyran, but the whole lot of them. The mood of the council and the rest of the clan had taken a prickly demeanor toward him. Nobody was outright rude but there was a pervading black cloud that seemed to hover around Jolon in all his dealings. It was hampering his attempt to get control of the council for himself. The council seemed to hold on to the hope that Braulor would be coming back.
In a surprise move, Tyran requested a special meeting of the Greejon council and had told them as much as he dared about the whole business. That he had gone after Braulor on a gut feeling that he was in danger. How they had been attacked by unknown assailants and escaped. Tyran couldn’t answer where Braulor was though or when they could expect him to return and he wouldn’t answer as to why Braulor had left camp in the first place. He stonewalled on these points and refused to divulge any more than he had already told them and would only reiterate that Braulor would explain everything upon his return.
At this point Jolon was sure the aged men of the council would turn to him to manage things but it had the exact opposite effect. It seemed to galvanize them, pull them together and work as a proper council should instead of deferring to Braulor. Perhaps his feelings toward Braulor weren’t as hidden as he tried to keep them.
Jolon’s one bright spot, the thing he clung to get him through the recent events had been Draax and the bargain they had struck to take over control of the Greejon clan. But with the council feeling frosty toward him, Jolon didn’t think it would be a good time to try and slip away to contact Draax. All Jolon's plans were in ruins and he was in a funk, lashing out at whoever he could. What else could go wrong?
"Jolon."
Jolon stopped walking and spun his head around, spotting one of the perimeter guards approaching. He rolled his eyes and waited for the guard to get right up to him before he bothered answering. "What is it Dwoek?"
"We caught someone approaching the camp. You told me to bring any such news to your attention immediately."
Jolon's face went slack for a moment as his thoughts raced over several hopeful possibilities. "Ok." Jolon was trying hard to keep his voice even, though he could feel adrenaline surging into his veins. "Stay here for a moment."
Jolon turned to the group of men following him and dismissed them, citing that they had enough work to keep them busy for now and they would resume their inspection another time. When the men had dispersed he turned back to Dwoek. "Lead the way.” Jolon gestured in the direction from which Dwoek had come.
Dwoek nodded curtly, turned and marched off at a rapid pace toward where the prisoner was being held. Behind him Jolon was overjoyed as he walked. He didn't want to get his hopes up but even if the prisoner turned out to be someone of little importance, the break in his monotonous routine was welcome. In the back of his mind though, he could feel that things were about to change.
Draax cursed himself. He had been so absorbed with his thoughts he hadn't been paying close enough attention to his surroundings. A squad of men emerged from the bush that lined the road and surrounded him. They had moved so fast he didn't have time to draw a weapon of his own. He thought about trying to fight his way out but a twinge of pain in his shoulder reminded him that he was in no condition to fight off five attackers. He surrendered without resistance and they took his pack and weapons. They had taken his staff as well but in a cunning display, he fell as they started to walk away, wailing about how he needed his staff for support. He wasn't proud of his actions but it had the desired affect and they returned the staff to him, along with many threats of how they would carve him up if he tried anything with it. He didn't. He knew when it was time to fight and when it was time to take your lumps. Right now he would take his lumps but he made sure to get a good look at each of the guard’s faces in case he got a chance for revenge.
They marched him up the road and stopped a few hundred yards from their encampment. Draax could tell this was the Greejon clan that he had been in pursuit of. They had moved quicker than anticipated. The guards forced him into a small cell they had reserved for people they caught wandering about their camp. It was just high enough for him to stand at his full height; which wasn't saying much as he was shorter than most men. There was a stool in one corner and when he entered the cage a sentry wrenched the staff from his hand. "You won't need this in here." And shut the door to the cage as he left. He lashed a rope around the cage door and the bar next to it, knotting it tightly, then disappeared into a nearby tent. When the sentry returned he no longer had Draax's staff and took up vigil near the cage. Draax made a mental note of the tents location and approximate distance from where he was for future reference.
Draax didn't try to escape. He didn't really want to. First, he was exhausted from his experiences along the Infrey Trail. Second, if he did get out of the cage, which wouldn't really be that hard, he would have to fight off heavily armed men. The five that that he knew about that is. No telling how many more were out there lurking in the bushes. Maybe in his younger days when he had been more brash he would have gave escape a try but today he was glad to be rid of the trail and, for the time being, he was safe. There weren’t many stories of a clan such as Greejon torturing their prisoners. Of course he knew that could all change in an instant. Draax dropped down onto the stool in his cell and folded his arm across his stomach, underneath his sling. He let himself lean back against the bars of the cage and tried to relax.
It took a moment for Draax to identify the new voice in his immediate area. It was a voice he recognized. Without lifting his head, he opened his eyes to slits big enough for him to see who the new person was and there was Jolon. He was standing near the tent where the sentry had put his staff, talking to one of the guards that had captured him. Draax smiled. He couldn’t believe his luck. Of all the people they could have fetched from the main camp, they got the one person that Draax didn't mind seeing.
Draax snapped his eyes shut again as Jolon finished his conversation with the guard and stormed toward the makeshift jail.
"Get up you." Jolon barked out the order to show who was in charge.
Draax didn't move as Jolon addressed him.
"Let's go. Get a move on." Jolon nudged Draax with his foot through the bars.
Draax lifted his head, opened his eyes and met Jolon's fierce gaze with a groggy, confused look as if he didn’t recognize who was talking to him.
"I'm not buying your act so let's go." Jolon was tiring of Draax's feigned sleep. Draax was, after all, a mercenary and had been for most of his life. There was no way he would sleep away his incarceration. Draax would be busy planning an escape or at the very least, which guard he was going to kill first before he himself was finished.
Jolon gave a nod to the sentry that was standing guard. The sentry undid the knotted rope that was holding the cell door shut and Jolon stomped inside, pulling his sword in the process and pointing it at Draax.
"Alright already." Draax pushed himself to his feet with his good arm. A twinge of anger shot through him as he spied Jolon holding the staff he had recovered from the mound. It faded as quick as it arose but it caught Draax off guard that Jolon holding the staff angered him so.
"Come with me." Jolon turned and left the cell.
"Thanks for your hospitality boys." Draax was jovial to the guards as he walked from the cage, catching up to Jolon.
Jolon shot Draax a dark look over his shoulder but didn't say anything as he made his way back toward the main camp. They were about halfway there when Jolon turned from the main path to his left and made his way through low grass and scrubby brush, skirting around the camp, until they came to a stop at the back of a large, white tent. He fiddled with the side of the tent and a section came away revealing a
n opening and he motioned Draax inside.
Draax obliged and took a seat at a table nearby as Jolon leaned the staff against the wall and busied himself closing the flap to the tent, sealing the discreet entranceway.
That isn’t standard issue. Jolon must have spent a lot of time building that into his tent. Draax nodded his silent approval at Jolon's deceptiveness.
"What happened?" Jolon demanded, getting right to the point, as he slid into another table side chair.
"What do you mean what happened? I got caught by your guards."
"You know damn well that's not what I mean." Jolon’s face turned red and blotchy. "I'm talking about your assassins. They failed."
Draax laughed to himself knowing that his insolence had the desired effect. "I know that. Only one returned and he filled me in about what happened. Where did this other person come from? You said Braulor would be alone."
"That shouldn't have mattered. Your men are supposed to be trained killers."
"Sometimes things go sideways." Draax shrugged his shoulders. "It's something I've learned over the years. Something you could take a lesson in."
Jolon stared at him, his face reddening to a deeper shade as rage boiled in his blood. "My plans are ruined.” He slammed a hand down on the table and got up.
Draax watched Jolon get up and pace back and forth, hands clenching. "Well, I'm here now. We can take care of things just the two of us. That’s if you don't mind getting your hands a little dirty." He made a menacing motion with his finger dragging across his neck.
Jolon stopped pacing and was staring at the staff leaning against the wall of the tent. In his rage, he had forgotten it was there. He suddenly found it fascinating. It captivated him and drew his attention to it as if it were the most precious thing he had ever seen. Jolon’s hand extended out, his fingers caressing the side of the staff in a loving fashion. Runes glistened along the length of its dark shaft. "Braulor still lives you fool." Jolon regained a measure of his composure.
"What difference does that make? He's in the Citadel jail. There's no way he'll be getting out of there. He's probably already swinging from a rope." Draax watched Jolon intently now, his eyes locked on him.
Jolon might as well have been made of stone. He stood staring at the staff; mesmerized by it. It was commanding his attention and he found he couldn’t look away from it. Everything else in the room became irrelevant. It may have been a trick of the light but Jolon was certain that the runes flared ever so slight as his anger stirred at the thought of Braulor.
"How about it Jolon? Are you game to go for control of this clan just the two of us?" Draax shifted in his seat trying to wrest Jolon’s attention from the staff, anger of his own percolating at having to watch Jolon coveting it.
"I have no problem with that Draax. Killing a few people here or there makes no difference to me as long as I get what I want in the end." There it was again. Jolon hadn’t been seeing things. The runes had pulsed again at the mere thought of violence and the corresponding rise in anger he felt.
Draax was beginning to feel uncomfortable and fidgeted in his seat. The room took on a dark edge, the feeling of anger palpable and looking for release. "Then let's make some plans Jolon. Iron out the details. We can take over this place in a couple of days I’m sure."
Jolon was still caressing the wooden staff and didn't respond. It was as if he was in a different world.
"You name it Jolon. Your wish..."
Jolon interrupted him. "My wish, Draax, is for you to pay for your mistake. Making an example of you would go a long way toward my ruling this clan."
"I paid my dues. All my men are dead on that accursed trail. I almost died getting out myself." Draax’s anger was coming to a rapid boil. The hostile energy in the tent intensified like it was an entity unto itself, feeding on the barbs being exchanged.
Jolon spun around, swinging the staff as he did so, right at Draax's skull, like he was trying to smack his head clean off his shoulders in one blow.
Draax was ready for the attack. He had been anticipating something as Jolon had stood staring at the staff and he had readied himself as best he could. He jumped up and caught the staff in the armpit of his good arm. He tried to retaliate but his other arm was still numb and didn't respond to the commands his brain was sending.
Jolon tugged hard on the staff but Draax was holding it firm and it didn't budge. Jolon stopped pulling on it and thrust the staff forward.
Draax didn't expect that move and the staff slipped through his armpit as Jolon delivered a hard kick to Draax's sternum which sent him tumbling.
Draax made to get up but Jolon arrived over him and brought the staff down hard across his back with a loud crack.
Draax crashed to the floor, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. From the pain searing across his back as he labored for breath, he was sure several of his ribs were broken. He looked up and Jolon was winding up for another blow.
Behind Jolon, Draax could see another form. It was dark like night but ethereal at the same time as if it were made of cloud. It seemed to be urging Jolon on through some unseen connection and Draax frowned as his brain tried to comprehend what he was seeing. It reminded him of the shades from the Infrey Trail, only its raw power was unrestrained and savage.
Jolon swung the staff down like a hammer and Draax slumped to the floor unmoving, blood running down his fractured skull and pooling under his head.
Jolon stood and stared at Draax’s body. For all his tough talk trying to impress Draax he had never attacked anyone before so brutally. It didn't seem like he had done it. It was like somebody else had taken over and directed his limbs as if were a marionette. He stepped back and fought down the urge to vomit. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, rolling down his face in scalding rivulets. He looked at the staff; its runes were blazing bright, like it was happy at what it had accomplished. A hand grasped his shoulder from behind. It was cold like ice and had the grip of several men. Shaking, Jolon turned to look at who it was. A faceless black shade was all he saw but it filled him with a terror he didn't think possible for a human being to feel. He wanted to call out, scream for help but he knew it would be useless. He would be dead before a single sound escaped his lips and he stood there, trembling like he had been pulled from freezing water.
The form looked past him to the heap on the floor that was Draax and looked back to Jolon. "You do good work."
Jolon's knees buckled and everything went dark.
Chapter 19