The Chronicles of Kale: Dawn of Retribution (Book 2) (35 page)

Kale coughed as the blade disappeared within the first elf’s hand.

“And her?” The first elf gestured toward Marg, who stood frozen in place; a look of genuine fear within her eyes.

The bearded elf approached her, closing his eyes and heavily inhaling. He paused, holding the air within his lungs for many moments before releasing it in a lengthy gust from his nose. “We cannot meddle—cannot interfere.” His white eyes shot open, seeming to gaze not
at
Marg, but through her.

Then, just as silently as he had appeared—he vanished.

The first elf panned across the group. “We will not be far. Know this, boy—should you, or he,” the elf glanced toward Illadar, “fail to fulfill your prophecy, we will not hesitate to slaughter you both. He, who has fled, must die. I will not return until I see it has been done. Be it by your blade, or mine.” His expression hadn’t changed since the moment he arrived.

Kale found it bizarre to look upon someone who bore absolutely no hint of emotion.

“We will not fail,” Kale spoke in confidence.

“So be it.” The first elf straightened his posture as a spiraling frost climbed its way up his body. In a blink, he was gone.

“Such friendly individuals; maybe next time we could all sit for tea.” Illadar joked with a sarcastic laugh.

“I’d rather drink blood, than to have tea with the likes of them.” Marg made a comically scrunched expression before placing her hands upon her hips. “Besides, I don’t date men over two-hundred—I think the old one rather fancied me.” She winked and childishly laughed with Illadar.

“Enough, you two. We’ve got to keep moving.” Kale inspected the many footprints still imprinted upon the snow. “I don’t believe these came from the frost elves. It has to be Reem and his men.”

A sudden gust of wind filled Kale’s cloak, expanding it out behind him as he stood tall. He pointed toward a mass of cylinder-shaped spikes, made of solid ice. “There.” Kale narrowed his eyes as he looked ahead.

They walked down a narrow path between the thick ice pillars which stood closely together, watching their own image dizzily reflect from each slick side.

Kale grazed his fingers along the wet surface, allowing his body temperature to heat just enough to leave shallow markings along their path.

The subtle gesture went without notice to Marg, though Illadar smirked at his friend’s clever method of tracking their trail through the maze of ice.

As they rounded a wide pillar, the faint sound of crying could be heard. The woman’s voice echoed off the frozen walls, carrying down the bordered path.

“Someone is near!” Kale called out.

Illadar placed a firm hand upon Kale’s shoulder to caution him from acting hastily. He placed a finger to his lips in silence.

Kale nodded and slowly inched his way forward. The sobs were filled with great sorrow and echoed endlessly in all directions. Through the ice, they could see the silhouette of someone standing on the opposite side.

“Help me . . . please, help me . . .” The woman gasped for air between each spoken sob. “It hurts.”

Kale placed his palms upon the ice, moving his face closer to inspect. He could vaguely make out the long, dark hair and ill-fitting dress.

“It
is
a woman—she’s all alone; we must help her.” Kale pulled back and looked to each side. “There must be another bend ahead—let’s go!”

They raced through the winding path until coming to an open area where scattered ice pillars were widely spread. Standing at the center, was the woman. Her facial features could not be seen through the thick, black hair which shrouded her face.

“Hello, are you all right?” Illadar questioned while keeping space between he and the woman. “We can try to assist you if you’ll tell us what is wrong. Are you lost?”

The woman continued to hang her head. Her shoulders remaining hunched forward, shaking repeatedly as she wept.

Illadar slowly crept forward, cautioning Marg to stand back.

“Please . . . please help me—it hurts,” the woman softly repeated.

“Wait!” Kale snapped in a hushed whisper. He pointed toward her bare feet which were slightly sunken into the snow. “Something is not right.”

“What do you want me to do then, kid—just leave her here? You are the one who wanted to come to her aid. What if she
is
lost and sufferin’ from the cold?”

“I don’t know!” Kale shot back while holding his eyes upon the stranger. “I just think there is something very strange here . . . why will she not reveal her face to us? And her feet—in the snow without covering . . .?”

“The poor woman is crying; I think you should ensure she is all right. Illadar is correct; we cannot simply leave her here. Let us not forget that I too was once a stranger in need of help.” Marg spoke while keeping a distance behind Illadar.

“I say we leave.” Kale replied. “I’m telling you—something is all wrong here.”

“Please . . . don’t go . . .” the woman spoke softly under the veil of hair.

Kale took a step back, surprised, and slightly embarrassed that the woman had heard him.

“That’s it—I’m gettin’ to the bottom of this.” Illadar slowly approached the woman. “We’re here to help, but you’ll need to let us know how we can do that.” He extended an arm toward her.

As Illadar’s fingers curled around the woman’s shoulders, she raised her head, revealing a single, reddened eye. A blood-curdling wail escaped her thin, pus-covered lips. The hair which once shrouded her features fell back enough to reveal a monstrous face. Her chin was oblong and came to a point, with a lower jaw that protruded outward containing two rows of yellow teeth. It looked as though someone had sliced her nose right from the skull, as all that remained was open, red tissue and two sunken holes. Long, blackened fingernails swiped forward toward Illadar as she once more wailed in agony.

“The pain—make it stop . . . help me!” She stepped forward, crunching down into the loosely packed snow with bare feet. Her back hunched and her arms twisted in an abnormal fashion as she moved.

“What hurts? We can’t help if you will not tell us.” Illadar staggered back in disgust and shock of what stood before him. He held his stare upon her as she continued in his direction.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her head dropped forward, once more covering her hideous face. “If you won’t make my pain stop,” she extended both arms to each side, “then I shall make
you
suffer too!” Her voice echoed loudly against the surrounding pillars.

Darkness eclipsed the snow, forming a puddle-like mass around their feet.

Kale leapt back, raising an arm to the sky. His knuckles tightened around the hilt of the Sword of Vindication.

“Keep back, Marg—this might get bloody,” Kale commanded.

“
This might get bloody
.” A familiar voice repeated back.

Kale turned and gasped. “What in Pan’s name is this?”

“
What in Pan’s name is this
?”

The voice was his own.

Many reflections of Kale stared back at him through the glassy ice pillars. They appeared identical in appearance, aside from their eyes—their black eyes were filled with something dark—something evil.

“Kid . . . are you seein’ this?” Illadar questioned with his claymore drawn. “A reflection; I see it in the ice—it looks just like me, yet I’m certain it isn’t. Ready yourself.”

“I see mine too,” Kale replied, listening to both he and Illadar’s reflections repeat their words.

Without warning, the reflections disappeared.

Kale’s focus immediately shifted back to the woman. “What sorcery is this?”

“Now you will see pain—you will see anger—you will see death.
They
are you. They are the side which once felt turmoil; the side which felt anguish, resentment, and hatred. You cannot escape from them, for they
are
a part of yourself—a part that will be the cause of your demise. Today you fall—today you feel my sorrow.” The woman’s hand shot out, her long, curled fingers danced in the air as she muttered to herself.

“Watch out!” Illadar called.

Kale turned to see the dark-eyed version of himself standing before him with a menacing glare. He raised his weapon, and watched in astonishment as the reflection mimicked his motion. Kale grunted and stepped to the side. The reflection’s movement was in sync with his.

“These games end now! You are
not
me!” Kale gritted his teeth as the thought of Neelan crossed his mind. Black armor emerged from within, encasing his body in a barrier of protection.

Kale swiftly spun out, bringing his sword down with tremendous force. It clanged against the reflection’s weapon as they pushed against one another. Every attack he attempted was countered with perfection—it knew his thoughts—it knew his every move.

“What in Pan’s name are we going to do? They know everything we are going to do, before it happens,” Kale spoke and his reflection repeated.

In a sudden jolt, Kale gripped his head. Visions of his brethren being slain by Jedah’s army filled his mind. His thoughts shifted, and suddenly, the sight of Neelan being struck by her own father came into view from their time in Tyrione.

The reflection stared forward, his black, round eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Get out of my head!” Kale growled.

To his side, Kale could hear Illadar calling out Kleana’s name. Kale knew he had to act with haste before their reflections overpowered their minds with emotional memories.

“The pain courses through you like disease,” the woman spoke while watching from the single eye through her dark hair.

Kale’s reflection blocked his path to the woman, making it difficult to keep track of her movement. He was aware it would be futile to attempt a planned approach. Kale froze, trying to clear his mind from the dominant thought to kill the woman.

“Don’t think about my actions—just do . . .” He tightly gripped his weapon as he spoke, focusing off of everything around him. With a smirk, he began to think of the joyous times he’d spent with Neelan.

In a sudden motion, he thrust his arm forward, releasing his blade toward the woman. For a brief moment in time, the reflection didn’t react. Kale pushed forward with every ounce of muscle in his legs, making it past the reflection and on course toward the woman. He viciously cried out as his fingers split open into threatening claws. His arm shot up with incredible speed, his claws stiff like daggers. He could feel his fingers enter beneath the woman’s jaw, tearing through her flesh and up into her skull. The warmth of blood immediately spread as it spilt down his arm. He released an animalistic growl before jerking his hand to each side until her face began to tear. With a final, forced pull, his claws burst from her head, leaving spattered brain and innards sprinkled across the snow.

The blackness faded from the ground, and Kale watched as his reflection moaned in anguish, only steps behind where he stood. Had he waited a moment longer to act, he would surely have been struck. The reflection snarled a final time before falling to the ground and fading into the earth.

Kale turned to find Illadar now stood alone as well.

“It’s over.” Kale spoke as he summoned his weapon back into his grip.

He dug his claws into the snow to clean the final remnants of blood, before allowing his hand to return to normal.

“That thing was no part of me—not the man I’ve become. Nor was the other you, Illadar. We are not the individuals we once were.”

“Wise words.” Illadar sighed, sheathing the large blade. “Marg?” He called out in concern.

“Y—yes, I am here.” She peeked timidly from around an ice pillar. “It’s safe now.”

Marg slowly crept from hiding, shifting her eyes in all directions. She paused at the sight of the dead woman, lying nearly headless upon the ground. Her hand reached for her gut as she folded over, dry gagging, and gasping for air.

“It’s all right,” Illadar spoke as he stroked the back of her hair. Without further discussion, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her protectively. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She silently nodded, attempting to catch her breath. “I am so thankful you’re safe. I was so worried—it was terrifying.”

“Everything is fine—now we keep moving.” Kale began to walk. The thought of Neelan had increased and fueled the desire to reach her as quickly as possible. He had made a promise to protect her, and he refused to rest until he saw it through.

Chapter 35: The Return

K
ale, Illadar, and Marg emerged from the maze of ice peaks. Night was now upon them.

It didn’t take Kale long to spot the many indentations of footprints, using the faint glow of moonlight as his guide. He smiled enthusiastically and eagerly followed the trail.

After walking over the rolling hills in pursuit of the sand-people, Illadar came to an abrupt halt. “
Shh
!” He held a finger to his lips and motioned the group to lower their stance. “Something is ahead,” he whispered.

Kale stopped to listen. Without a doubt, there
was
something causing a commotion.

Crouched low, they eased their way forward until rounding a hill.

Kale peered out and could see the familiar shade of blood which was splattered across the ground. It stood out against the snow like stars to the night sky. A sudden
thud
made him jerk back into hiding.

“That is the last of them. We must strategically move forward,” a familiar voice spoke.

Reem
! Kale’s heart raced as he leapt from his position. His jaw dropped as his eyes fell upon the sand-people, surrounded by at least twenty mangled bodies.

“My friends,” Reem spoke with relief. “It is good to see you. I apologize for our sudden departure and not alerting you of the circumstance; however we could not risk Neelan’s safety any longer than necessary. I fear she is already weakened by our current distance.”

“Do you know where she is?” Kale pressed the question.

“Yes, boy.” Reem looked to his side and gestured in the direction.

“Then let us go—now!” Kale began to dash forward, but was quickly blocked by a wall of sand-people.

“Do not move without a course of action. You do not know what we’re up against,” Reem cautioned.

“We must hurry! She needs us—you have no idea what this man is capable of doing to her.”

“Come, boy.” Reem waved Kale over. “Use your instincts to remain concealed, and look beyond the tree-topped hill.” He pointed to a large, snowy mound with three bare trees atop.

Kale climbed up, keeping his body hidden behind the trunks. His eyes widened at the sight below. Down a steep cliff, there appeared to be at least two-hundred armor-clad warriors in rows of formation, surrounded by tall torches which lit their surrounding area. The front row beat the hilt of their weaponry loudly against black shields which bore the crest of a cobra.