Land of Shadows (The Legend of the Gate Keeper Book 1) (18 page)

“Yes,” Jade replied without hesitation. “He is in possession of the necklace, for one thing.” But then she quickly changed the subject all of a sudden. “And just so you know, I don’t care what happened to Tamera and Grimton. They were cruel.”

The Queen paused only for a moment before she continued brushing in long, slow strokes.

“Please tell me about my parents!” Jade blurted. She had obviously been holding that in for some time now.

This time the Queen stopped brushing in mid stroke. There was an awkward moment before she carried on. “I’m afraid there isn’t a whole lot I can tell you, my dear,” she said in a sad voice. “I can tell you one thing for sure. They loved you very much and were devastated to see you go.” Her voice cracked a bit as she forced out the words. “But it was for the greater good. You were born into destiny, Jade.” She slowly wrapped an arm around Jade and placed her cheek against the back of her head. She held the embrace for a long moment. “If you aren’t too tired, I would love to hear as much as you’re willing to tell me tonight.”

“I would be honored. But first, could you turn around so I can get my robe on?” Jade said, turning red with embarrassment.

Ilirra smiled at the pure innocence of this girl—this warrior—who held so many social insecurities. She complied with the innocent request before turning back around.

Then they sat on the large bed together and talked well into the night. Jade told her everything that had led her to this very moment. She even told the queen about the warrior who was fighting here in the arena and the part she played in his current situation. Jade asked if there was any way Ilirra could have him pardoned. She regretfully told her that she didn’t have the authority, for the slavers were their own entity and had full authority over their contract, but added that she would send a messenger to the head slaver and have him name his price. There was always a chance she could buy his freedom. Ilirra hated the games anyway. It was nothing but a barbaric form of crowd control. If she could release one soul from their grip, all the better.

Chapter 12

Kelzson Sen looked rather out of place sitting at a desk pushing papers.

The large, grizzled man dipped his oversized white feather into the black ink bottle for the thousandth time and continued to sign off on what seemed to be a never-ending stack of paperwork. Contracts to sign, receipts to be accounted for; the endless paperwork was the part of his job he hated most. Well, not so much the receipts. Those all translated into coin to fill his pocket.

Kelzson decided he was done for a while, as the hot, sticky room was starting to get to him. Wiping sweat from his brow, the tall man stepped away from his desk and wandered out into the street. It was only a touch better outdoors, as the light breeze did little to cool the air, which was surprisingly warm this early in the day.

With wild, long brown hair and a thick wiry beard to match, he looked every part the slaver. A long, faded scar traveling from his forehead clear down the side of his cheek was the reason for his black velvet eye patch. He was not a man that resembled a paper pusher by almost any measure. Nonetheless, Kelzson was a businessman, and what had to be done had to be done. Being the head slaver certainly had its perks as well.

The large man strolled past the cages set up alongside his building, cages containing
cargo
he bought as he traveled from town to town. They were given the appearance of carnival cages, set up on high wheels and painted various bright colors. The wood trim beamed with various shades of green, red and yellow. That the variety of bright colors helped make the little prisons appear more festive was no accident. It added a sort of innocence to the trade—an illusion, to be sure.

He strolled past them, tauntingly slapping at the bars with every step. The men inside the cages were frightened, of course, and Kelzson liked to torment them before their assigned arena tournaments. Putting a sword and shield in the hands of a petty thief did
not
make him a warrior. Of course, that made no difference once you were convicted and sold. From there on, you were property, used to make profit.

Kelzson had deals with arenas all over Tarmerria for his traveling show. He was a shrewd businessman and usually came out on top as far as his business ventures went. Having virtually no competition didn’t hurt either. Of course, the biggest venue was here in Taron, where he stood to make the most profit. He would arrange the fights and get a cut of the door.

The Queen hated the games but couldn’t do anything about them. Those contracts were left exclusively in the hands of Kelzson and the arena owners. But besides that, even she couldn’t deny the taxes received from the shows went a long way to supporting Taron.

He stopped by one cage in particular as he made his rounds. The man here was the only one who didn’t share his sanctuary with anyone else. Kelzson stared into the cage for a moment before banging on the bars. “Wake up, maggot.” he called out as he continued banging away. “How is my prized pet this morning?”

The huge man in the cage remained motionless, lying down at the far side of the cage with his back turned to Kelzson.

“Hey, slave! Just because you make me money doesn’t mean you can igno—”

With frightening speed, the man lunged at Kelzson from across the cage. He leaped straight back as the huge arm fired through the bars, missing him by mere inches. The man had gone from lying down, facing away from him, to almost grabbing his shirt in less than a second.

Kelzson panted hard, trying to compose himself. “I’ll have you whipped, dog!” he growled in a shaky voice.

With his arm still hanging through the bar, swinging back and forth in a taunting fashion, the warrior smiled through his thick black beard. “I almost had you that time,
friend
. How do you think that would have ended...hmm?” The warrior kept his gaze on Kelzson for a long time.

The slaver wasn’t sure what unsettled him more, the fact that this...
animal
...had almost killed him due to his own carelessness, or those unnatural green eyes staring through him like some kind of beast. “I’ll have you hung, you crazy monst—”

A tap on his shoulder startled him further. He whirled around to see a messenger standing before him. The young man wore the traditional green and yellow colors that marked him as a representative of the queen.

“And what do you want?” Kelzson snarled, quite jumpy now and afraid of his own shadow. Messengers held no real authority, so Kelzson was not concerned about whether or not the boy was insulted by his tone.

Morcel couldn’t hear what they were saying, nor did he particularly care. He dreamed of getting his hands on Kelzson, and believed his last chance at fulfilling that dream may have just come and gone. The man would be cautious from here on, and an opportunity like that just simply wouldn’t repeat. He began to roll back to the corner of the cage until he faintly heard his name in the conversation. Trying to act as if he hadn’t heard anything, he turned his ear slightly towards the pair and concentrated. The two were definitely looking at him as they made hand gestures in the air. Maybe he was going to be hung after all? A direct order from the Queen, perhaps?

Truth be told, he didn’t care anymore. The hope of ever being a free man had left him long ago. In fact, during some of his forced arena battles, he had considered letting the opponent run him through just to end it all, but his survival instincts always took over and wouldn’t allow him to go through with it. Morcel watched as the messenger gave a brief salute, followed by a click of his heels before spinning around then marching away.

Kelzson began ambling towards his cage wearing a sinister grin. “Well, dog, it seems you’ve made me money once again,” he said with a sparkle in his eye.

Morcel’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. What was this fool talking about?

“Queen Ilirra Marosia just bought your contract, worm!” his tormentor blurted out, laughing.

Waves of emotion flooded through Morcel.
I’m free
?
This living nightmare has finally ended
?

“Not so fast, dog,” Kelzson said, as if reading his mind, still wearing that irritating grin. “I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve got to say this is a first.
You
...bought by royalty! I even gave the whore a great price.”
Like he was a piece of used furniture to be bartered over
. “After all, I’ve made plenty of coin off your hide already, and it’s always a good idea to stay on the good side of the Queen, don’t you agree?”

He purposely brought his face close to the cage this time, knowing Morcel wouldn’t dare touch him. “But you see, your current contract remains intact until tonight. You will have to compete once more, I’m afraid,” the slaver said in a mockingly regretful tone.

A sinking feeling of dread flowed through Morcel like a dam that had been shattered. He understood now. Of course this wretched human being had given the Queen a good price to stay in her good graces. All the while, if something were to happen to him during this last tournament, no blame could be placed on Kelzson. He was just “upholding” the current contract. People had already parted with their coin. How was anyone to know he would not make it through the last round? What a pity.

Kelzson’s eyes lit up. “So you’re not a dumb animal after all. Understand now, do yah? It’s been a pleasure working with you all these years, but if you will excuse me, I have to arrange your execution!”

Morcel lunged at the bars and rattled them savagely. For the first time in years, he actually cared about getting out of the next round alive. He wanted to live!

* * *

The palace was bustling with life early this morning. Servants scurried about cleaning floors and washing windows. Some had the unenviable task of cleaning every glamorous piece of art hanging on every wall throughout the palace. Delicate silk tapestries were cleaned with the utmost care. Pictures had their frames daintily dusted and shined using a fine cloth. The maids in the kitchen climbed over one another like ants as they hurried to prepare the morning meal.

Queen Ilirra was up early this morning, as was Jade. The two of them strolled through the palace together before entering the dining hall. They partook in the large breakfast set out for any who were up. At first Jade felt a little guilty about not waiting for the boys, but the feeling faded quickly as the smell of eggs and thick-cut bacon filled her nose.

Ilirra went on to explain how she had indeed been able to buy out Morcel’s contract, but he would be forced to compete one last time, that time being today. She tried to talk Jade out of attending this round of the games, but she proved to be very stubborn on the matter. Ilirra finally gave in, but insisted the three companions take an appointed escort. This was sure to be the roughest group of people they had been around since arriving in Taron.

Eric and Jacob sprung from their beds, unable to remember the last time they had slept so well. They each took turns using the mirror, scrubbing up using the flower-scented water supplied in the large wooden washbowl. They brushed their teeth with the salt and soda paste provided for them and began to get dressed.

Jacob in particular had a real spring in his step this morning as he spoke of how many serving girls there must be roaming the halls. More importantly, how many were single and lonely, living a sheltered life in the palace. Eric had no idea how his friend could fit the words “sheltered” and “palace” together in the same sentence. Sometimes it seemed like Jacob would see whatever he wanted to see, but that was what made him such a great complement to Eric—the way they kept each other grounded by having such different personalities. Jacob’s job seemed to be keeping Eric from taking things too seriously.

When a light knock came at the door, Jacob leaped up, hoping it was either one those lonely serving girls he had been talking about or someone bringing breakfast. As he threw open the door, he couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face when it seemed neither of his desires had come true. In the place of his temporary fantasy stood a short, bald man with a long, thin, gray beard.

“Good morning, boys,” came a scratchy high-pitched voice.

The two young men just leaned against either side of the doorway, giving slight hand gestures they hoped would pass as formal greetings, not knowing exactly what to make of this little fellow.

“Now then, if you’re both ready, we have lots of work to do. If you boys would just follow me and—”

“Whoa, wait a minute, old man,” said Jacob as he turned away and strolled back into the room. “We have important business with Her Majesty this morning. We have no time for—”

“Apologies, sir. We’ll be ready in a minute,” said Eric as he tried to speak over Jacob quickly. “Please, have a seat while we finish up here.”

“That will be quite alright, Eric,” the man said, sure of which boy was which now. “I’ll wait in the hall for the both of you, but don’t dawdle, mind you. This is important.” The old man backed out of the doorway as Eric closed it behind him. “What is wrong with you?” Eric spat out before Jacob could say a single word. “Do you really think the Queen is not aware of who that man is? She obviously sent him here to get us. Then you treat him as if he is here to clean the room! Why, oh why do you always speak before thinking?”

Jacob was stunned by the onslaught and started to protest before getting cut off yet again.

“Look,” Eric said with a touch more calm in his voice, “we are guests here, and we need to start acting like it. You need to put the old Jacob on hold for as long as we’re here. Use your eyes and ears first and your mouth second, alright?”

Jacob was more stunned than hurt. He saw the truth in what Eric was saying. His friend was right. Jacob needed to understand they weren’t in Bryer anymore. It was just that the old Eric wouldn’t have said anything; he would have kept it to himself. Jacob just shook his head in agreement and began putting on his shoes.

They finished dressing in silence before heading out into the hall. The two followed the old man down the hall, not exactly sure where he was taking them. They continued on, down a flight of stairs and into the cellar, down one more flight of stairs and into a brown room lit with oil lamps flickering away with their orange glow. When the three of them marched through the lone wooden door, there sat Jade with the Queen, sitting and talking like old friends. Both their faces tightened as the men entered, as if they had interrupted their private girl talk.

Berkeni turned to Eric with concern in his eyes. “I’m afraid there is something here you need to see,” he said in that high-pitched voice. “I know you have your doubts as to who you really are, doubts of your own destiny.” He placed a skinny hand on Eric’s broad shoulder. “Doubts are what make us human, my boy. Only the truly ignorant believe blindly without expressing some wariness.” His voice lowered and became hard and steady. “However, the truly ignorant don’t know the truth when it bites them in the face, either. Now please, have a seat. I warn you, all of you...this will not be easy to watch.”

The five of them sat around the plain wooden table with the white pearl at its center.

Jacob looked around nervously. His eyes settled on glass jars containing little weird creatures submerged in clear liquid.

Eric, however, kept his eyes fixed on the white pearl. He didn’t look relaxed exactly, but seemed focused. Jade and the queen both shared looks of concern as well.