“I did not make the choice, Vasu did, and he was very wise.” Deemer curled my fingers around the jewel with a loving expression, then smiled. “It’s yours. With this diamond, you will be endowed to become the next Ancient. When you die, this stone will house your magical essence also.”
I debated, thinking of all the reasons why I shouldn’t accept it. Would I have to stay in this world? Would I still be an Ancient back home? Would I be able to use magic in my world? Would I live for a thousand years? Did I even want to? The questions spun round and round in my mind.
Then, taking a deep breath, and before I could change my mind, I plopped the priceless jewel in my mouth and swallowed, choking when it got stuck half way down. After a moment of panic, it slid the rest of the way and settled inside my stomach. Soon, warmth spread through my body like hot cocoa on a winter day. My whole being radiated heat from the inside out, and I no longer felt the chill of the dungeon. The task before me didn’t seem so daunting.
With a burst of renewed confidence, I ran toward the winding stairs to catch up with my friends.
“Zach! What took you so long?” Lauren complained as she helped Dardanos up the flight of never-ending steps. She glanced at my face, and then did a double take. “Hey, what did you do? You look different.” She peered curiously into my eyes.
“His energy is different,” Kirth said, staring in shock. “Deemer gave it to you, didn’t he? You swallowed it.”
I didn’t know what to say. Did I really seem different after swallowing the diamond? I didn’t want to hurt Kirth, but I had to follow my heart. “Yes, Kirth. I swallowed it. I’m sorry.”
Something inside compelled me do what was right, and I had been chosen and brought to this world for a purpose. I couldn’t keep hiding behind the fear of failure.
The look of utter betrayal on Kirth’s face was undeniable. “But it was my right. That diamond should have been mine. Why, Zach? Why did you take it?”
“I… uh…”
Flitwicket moved over by Kirth, who stood on the cold flagstone steps, and placed her hand on his shoulder. “My friend. You know it must be this way. We are all sorry for your pain, but we must each travel the path before us. We need you. We need your fearlessness and your bow. Are you still with us?” Her voice, so smooth, so warm, must have penetrated Kirth’s anguish, because he nodded his head. Then turned away to stare at the black-rock wall.
Flitwicket turned to face the rest of us. “All right. Are we all ready? We have a quest to complete.”
“I don’t think I can,” Dardanos moaned, holding his head in his hands and rocking back and forth in misery. “I’m sorry.” His eyes were red and squinting. He looked terrible.
Flitwicket hurried back down to examine him, and then placed her hands on either side of his head. She gazed softly into his eyes. After a few seconds, Dardanos’s eyes cleared and his countenance shined. “My headache. It’s gone!” He jumped up and squeezed the dryad’s hand. “Thank you, Flit!”
Every time something like that happened, I was amazed at the wonderful abilities my friends possessed. I was so glad they were with me, and because of it, we just might succeed. “Okay, gang,” I said. “Let’s do this!” I headed up the stairs, taking position as first in line. It seemed the natural thing to do. A shift had taken place.
Kirth was no longer the leader.
Sunlight glimmered through the silk curtains of Kalika’s room. She rose, her heart heavy, and put on the new velvet gown the Warlord had given her. She hated dresses, but was expected to play her part as his fiancée. The whole kingdom was abuzz with news of the Warlord’s upcoming nuptials. The Legion was planning the party of the century for the two of them.
Today her hair was piled high with long ringlets falling around the edges of her oval face, because he liked it that way. She did look wonderful, but it didn’t matter because today her friends would storm the castle. She hurried from her quarters, and had just made it to the stairs when the Warlord stepped from his room.
“Going somewhere?” His huge body filled the hall, the eyeholes of his helmet glowing.
“Oh… no, My Lord. I was just excited for my mother to arrive. I’m anxious to see her!” Her dress swished around her feet.
“She won’t be here ‘til tomorrow.”
“Oh… tomorrow? I thought it was today,” she lied. “Well, that’s all right.” She stepped back, unable to read his body language. Was he angry?
Suddenly, the Warlord stood straight and still, listening. His muscles tensed as he pushed Kalika roughly back into her room. “Get inside.” He slammed her door shut and rushed down the stone steps, his heavy footfalls vibrating in her chest.
Inside her room, Kalika ripped the velvet dress from her body until it lay in tatters at her feet, then streaked to her closet where two days before she’d hidden her leather armor. Strapping it on felt like coming home. Having it next to her skin cleared her head and made her feel strong. She placed her daggers around her waist, and strapped on her greaves, then braided her long hair. She ran from her room and down the stairs, hearing a deafening commotion. After jumping to the landing she stopped, staring in horror.
With one hand stretched forth, Kirth had created an invisible wall of crimson that held back the Legion guards, the medallion pulsing on his chest, her friends behind him. His face was a mask of serenity, his other hand aimed at the Warlord.
Why did he have the medallion? Wasn’t Zach supposed to be wearing it? Something was wrong, and a terrible feeling of foreboding welled in her chest. The biggest surprise of all came when the Warlord noticed her standing at the bottom of the stairs in her leather armor. He turned, completely ignoring Kirth and the four others.
He stopped, still and silent, his shoulders visibly slumping. After a moment, he slowly reached up and placed his fingers at the bottom of his helmet. His fingers hesitated at the rim for only a fraction of a second. Everyone stood frozen, gaping. In one swift movement, the glowing-eyed helmet slid off. The Warlord stared at Kalika with soft, brown eyes, his pain at her betrayal exposed for everyone to see.
And he was beautiful! And human! Long, honey-colored hair fell about his shoulders, framing his light, flawless face. A human was leading the Legion? Even the Warlord’s own soldiers quieted as they gazed in astonishment.
Silence, in its oppressiveness, echoed off the castle walls.
Kalika gasped along with everyone else.
He reached out with a gloved hand. “Kalika,” he whispered. “Come to me.”
She took a step back, her emotions roiling in her heart. She couldn’t reconcile that this handsome man was the evil Warlord who led the Legion. “I can’t. I don’t want you. I never did.”
The sting of her words was evident on his face for only an instant before the Warlord’s eyes narrowed and a mask of rage slid over his features. His jaw flexed with fury. “As you wish,” he said, his voice dark with menace.
In the precious seconds that passed while the Warlord was distracted, Kirth raced forward, a dagger held in his fist. I watched, immobile as Kirth sprang like a monkey and landed on the Warlord’s chest, holding onto him by the neck of his armor. Kirth stabbed, but before the knife came close to penetrating, the Warlord plucked the little tracker from his chest like a pesky gnat, and held him at arm’s length.
“And what do we have here? A little bug?” the Warlord said with a chuckle.
Kirth swung his arms and kicked his feet to no avail. His talents were not for close, hand-to-hand combat, but with his bow, which the Warlord took and snapped like a twig between his fingers.
Kirth cried out as his prized weapon was destroyed.
The Warlord’s gaze fell to the ruby pendant that pulsed with life on Kirth’s chest. His intake of breath was audible. “The Pendant of Power. Is this… Vasu’s Pendant of Power?”
Kirth—who still hung from the Warlord’s fist—said nothing, his look of horror bringing a chuckle from his captor.
“I’ll take
that as a yes.”
With a nimbleness that belied his size, he snatched the pendant from Kirth’s neck and placed it around his own. “I know you, don’t I?”
Kirth glared, the hatred in his eyes undisguised.
“You’re that little brat I lived with,” he spat, staring at the pixie for a moment more. “Farewell, Brother.” He tossed Kirth across the room as though he was worth no more than a useless toy.
Kirth landed hard and crumpled to the floor.
I cried out, mortified, and frozen at the thought that one of my very best friends was possibly dead. How could this have happened? We were supposed to win. During raids in the game, everyone battled the “boss” together, wearing him down until he died. We couldn’t do that now. This was nothing like the game. The Warlord not only had the Eye of Tanúb, but also the Pendant of Power, making him unbeatable.
Unkillable.
Invincible.
It was over. We’d lost.
“What made you think you could defeat me?” The Warlord bellowed, his gaze falling onto me. “You’re nothing but children.”
“Not all of us,” Flitwicket said, stepping forward, her shield glowing. She held her wand up, and before the Warlord could react, she shot a powerful stream of blue electricity from it, hitting the Warlord smack in the face.
He stumbled back, stuttering and batting at the blue static. A few choice words—that were familiar words from back home—flew from his mouth, and I cringed at the Warlord’s crudeness.
“Hurry,” Flitwicket yelled. “All at once!”
Like a slow motion movie, I watched Dardanos pull his broadsword from its sheath and step forward, ready to deal a deadly blow across the Warlord’s neck. At the same time, Lauren shot a spell from her wand. I grabbed my daggers and leaped at the Warlord without a second thought.
If my friends had the courage to continue in the face of death, so did I. I landed on the Warlord’s back, trying to thrust my knife into the giant’s back, but my weapons weren’t powerful enough to slice the enchanted armor. With a shrug of the Warlord’s shoulders, I fell to the floor.
Pain arced through my belly as he kicked me in the stomach with his powerfully armored foot. Gasping for breath, I watched as the Warlord battled with Dardanos, sword to sword. In dread, I realized the Warlord was only toying with Dardanos. There was no way my friend would win.
Each of Dardanos’s thrusts was dodged with ease. Each block pushed him farther back, and he looked ready to collapse. The Warlord wasn’t even breathing heavily, and would soon tire of this game, and kill us all.
But a plan began to form in my mind. If I could just get the pendant back…
Pulling myself to a crouch, I took a deep breath, mentally psyching myself up. With one last prayer in my heart, I charged, a howl of outrage bursting from my mouth. Once again, I launched myself into the air, kicked out with my foot, connecting with the Warlord’s chin.
His head snapped back.
I crooked my arm around his huge neck, and stopped my flight, flinging myself, onto his back. Brandishing my knife, I stabbed, but instead of the blade sinking into his flesh, it stopped because the Warlord’s fierce grip on my wrist.
I hung from his fist, just as Kirth had, the steel metal gloves digging into my arm. “You. Are. Dead,” he growled. “You are all dead.” His other hand shot out with lightening speed, grasping me around the neck. He rose to his full height with a roar of rage.
I hung, my feet dangling, struggling to pry away the Warlord’s steel fingers, which continued to squeeze with terrible force. I knew at any moment my neck would snap, just as easily as Kirth’s bow. I couldn’t breathe—my lungs burned, and when I kicked at the Warlord’s armor, nothing happened. Nothing affected the giant, vile man.
The Warlord held the others at bay with a glowing, blood-red barrier similar to the one Kirth had made. “I feel the pendant’s power radiating through me!” he bellowed in triumph. “Nothing can stop me!”
My friends looked on in dismay. We had lost. We were no match for him. All of this was for nothing. But then… I felt a surge of power… that began in my gut… and passed through my mind, making my blood pulse.
At the time, I was pretty sure it was a lack of oxygen, but a split second later, I knew it was Vasu’s life force flowing through me—all the way to my fingertips. Knowledge of the past filled my mind, downloading into my brain like a computer program. I saw the history of this world—the land of Terratir—unfold, past leaders ravaging the land, battles won and lost by both the Guild and the Legion.
I saw David as a young man in Kirth’s house, studying with Vasu, rebelling and becoming the Warlord, which made me blink in astonishment, and in that moment, I knew what to do. But I had to hurry as my vision was darkening, and my body was growing weak with the lack of oxygen. I was slipping into unconsciousness.
From somewhere far away, I heard Lauren scream my name. Ignoring my fear and the agony of choking to death, I reached out—my eyes bulging—and grasped the Pendant of Power, flicking the chain over the Warlord’s head, and letting it fall down over my own.
For an instant, all stood still in astonishment. Even the Warlord.
I shoved with both feet, breaking the Warlord’s grasp, and flipped in a somersault, landing on my feet with ease. I dashed from the room before anyone could react, and ran up the winding staircase, using my gift of speed.
The Eye of Tanúb called to me with a song of angelic beauty. I could hear it as though a symphony played inside my mind, and I was drawn to it, just as Vasu had predicted. An old, worn door at the far side of the hall beckoned. I sped across the wide expanse, hurtling myself over the table and through the opening, and slamming the door shut behind me. There, in the corner, swirled the Eye, shining brilliantly in the morning sun over its diamond vase.
It appeared slick, yet no water dripped from its viscous surface. I stepped forward, grasping the eight-inch sphere in my hands. Its weight surprised me, kind of reminding me of a bowling ball. Only this orb was beautiful and emanated power unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It filled me to bursting.
Before I could move, the Warlord entered the room in a rage. Seeing that I held the orb, his expression quickly morphed into one of astonishment. “What… how…? How can you hold the Eye?” he asked, his mouth slack.
“Because I wear the Pendant of Power.”
The Warlord stood with his hands in fists, his teeth grinding.
“Yes, Warlord. The Pendant of Power is the only thing that makes handling the Eye possible. You didn’t know that, did you?” I said, with a sly smile. This was beginning to feel good. “And you know what’s funny? You were offered it once. You had the chance to learn the pendant’s secrets. Instead, you let pride and greed take over your life.”
The Warlord growled in rage, racing forward, out of control. As his fingers brushed the Eye’s surface, he was thrown back with terrible force, slamming into the far wall, stunned.
I stepped around him. “You can’t touch the Eye, David. You don’t wear the pendant.” I felt energy course through my body like hot, liquid fire, fueling my mind and muscles.
“Give me that pendant!” The Warlord shrieked, stretching out his hand. A bolt of mystic lightening shot toward my chest.
I staggered back, flailing, but managed to hold onto the orb, barely. I quickly realized the spell had not harmed me, for I had a shield of my own. I was untouchable. Just as Vasu had promised.
“I may not be able to hurt you, boy, but I can stop you! I rule this world!” The Warlord rose to his feet, towering over me.
My friends barreled into the room.
And that is when doubt reared its ugly head, and dread filled me.
The Warlord’s eyes closed to slits as he read my expression. In one swift movement, the Warlord reached out, grabbing Lauren and pulling her tight against his chest, his steel-gloved hand squeezing her throat.
“Let her go!” I shouted manically. Lauren touched he
r forehead, immediately surrounded by her shield.
Dardanos raced forward, plowing into the Warlord, knocking him off balance and pushing Lauren to safety. He straddled the Warlord and punched him hard in the face. The Warlord lifted himself from the ground and shoved Dardanos away as though he were a small child. Dardanos landed hard, the breath knocked from him. He lay, stunned, on the floor at the Warlord’s feet. A flash of light burst through the room as Flitwicket shot a spell from her wand, but it glanced off him like nothing.
“Stop! Remember what Vasu said! You can’t fight him,” I cried.
“That’s right,” the Warlord confirmed. “Listen to your little friend, and you may survive this day.”
He lifted his hand and glared at Dardanos, who lay on the floor, still gasping for breath. “But you won’t. You’ve worn out your welcome.” The Warlord raised his fist. It glowed blood red as power tightened into a deadly sphere in the center of his palm, spitting static around his fingers in a spell that would not only kill the prone warrior, but would surely obliterate him. Lauren shrieked, diving on top of Dardanos to shield him.
“No!” Kalika screamed, running forward and throwing herself at the Warlord. But the spell had already left his hand. The fiery blast intended for Dardanos could not be stopped. It streaked on its deadly path… through Kalika’s body.
Time ceased. The only thing I could hear was the rushing force of my pulse. Kalika stared into the Warlord’s light-brown eyes, clinging to his cold, unyielding armor. Her knees gave out, and her eyes glassed over before she could even utter a word.
The Warlord gasped, clutching her around the waist, his expression a mask of horror. With slumped shoulders, he pulled Kalika to him in an agonized embrace, holding her tight and falling to one knee.
I couldn’t move, and my mind went blank. Kalika… dead? It wasn’t possible! The Eye dropped from my numb fingers, bounced once, then rolled slowly toward the floor level window. I didn’t even notice.
The Warlord leaned forward, placing Kalika’s lifeless body gently on the floor.
My mouth twisted, and anger fueled me as I hurled myself across the room, determined to pull Kalika away from her murderer. I reached her just as the Warlord looked up, his expression deadly. Our eyes, only inches apart.