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Kamu rolled a scroll borrowed from the great archives of Boreas onto a boulder.
“We will travel northwest through the ravines of Taryllion, Princess. We will meet with Thyon at the fifth mountain path. We must then move like shadows past the Darkage to the dimension gateway,” he said pointing to spots on the map.
Her stomach knotted. She hated they had to move so close to the Darkage—the kingdom of shadows and darkness—to access the closest gateway to Earth. The other gateway was located east of Nuria, and during their quick conference in the mountain cave, they had deemed it more perilous to travel anywhere near the king from whom they were fleeing.
But the Darkans were bestial. It seemed inconceivable that anything else could be considered more perilous.
“Princess.”
At the gravity of his tone, she faced him.
“I fear for your safety. I will not pretend I do not wish for another solution.”
Saieke hardened her resolve. “King Ajali’s hands will not crush my kingdom through me.” The rush of rage burned the grief away, and she welcomed its bite.
“At this moment, I am not apprehensive about the King of Nuria.” Kamu gauged her reaction. “The gateway only rests a few miles from the northern Darkage border. We must never forget the implications of moving so close to the dark ones’ domain.”
The Darkage inspired terror in all of the kingdoms. She had been avoiding thinking of them, not wanting the fear of their kind
to prevent her from acting. She glanced toward their lands in the far distance, forcing her heart to beat in a steady rhythm. “Before we charted our journey we knew the dangers. We must not waver now. Our people lives depend on us.”
“Darkans are also rumored to also live on Earth, devouring humans and our kind.”
She winced. “We are faster, stronger, and more enhanced in every way than humans. I will defend our lives until we can return to our kingdom.”
Anger flashed across his face. “Do not be foolish, Princess. I do not worry if you can defend us. We are your blades and our lives are yours. My fear is that Thyon and I are not adequate protection for you in this unknown world to which we are heading.”
She understood. “Earth is our best choice. We will fade into obscurity there. Fleeing to another kingdom would certainly cause war. The Nurians would burn them to the ground if they dared harbor me.”
To remain and refuse to honor an oath her king made could also be a death sentence, which could come from her family for bringing dishonor to the El Shyokara name, or from the Nurians who would see her actions as an insult to their king. But she would stay her course, for she was determined to protect her people at all cost.
Finally, gentle flutters came on the wind, and Kamu turned toward Taryllion. “Thyon has signaled the lands appear to be without danger.”
“I am ready,” she said hoarsely.
“We need to pace ourselves so that our chakras are not drained. As we near the border of the Darkage, move with your full speed and power, Princess,” he bit out, scanning the horizon for danger.
They flashed with determined purpose. She did not look back. Not once. She knew in her heart it was the last time she would see her kingdom. She did not need a fleeting glimpse to remind her of the beauty and joys they were leaving behind. It resounded in her mind and echoed in her soul.
***
The Darkage—kingdom of darkness and shadows
Kerberos—Castle of the deep—main stronghold of the king
“There are murmurs of dissension,” Drac El Kyn reported to his king. He shifted, following Gidon’s progress across the cavernous room as he paced like a caged predator.
His king’s lips curved into a smile even as the deep silver of his eyes turned to hardened flint. “From where does this dissension rise and what are the murmurings?”
“It is said that you are only five centi old and not strong enough to rule our people. It is whispered that you are only in power because it is your heir-ship,” Drac said. “There are also whispers of the Kingmaker promising a new ruler for the Darkage.”
Gidon’s step faltered and met Drac’s gaze. The Kingmaker was a shadow in Amagarie, lauded for his brilliance and cunning. He was without loyalty to any kingdom or king. A man most dangerous, a man whose identity had been a mystery for centuries, but whenever he stirred, destruction ensued.
Gidon strode to the fireplace and stared into the roaring fire. Its flickering cast the sigil of the ruling family—the Cerberus—a ferocious three headed gargoyle mounted above the war throne in a menacing glow.
Tension danced over Drac as the coldness that emanated from his king reached out to him, and darkness scraped against darkness. The sibilant slide of his beast whispered through him as he lowered himself into the great chair facing Gidon.
They were secreted in one of the king’s private war chambers away from eyes and ears embedded in the shadows of the court. It was sparsely furnished with only two great chairs, a throne, and a massive oak desk. The fine layer of dust on the stone floor and furniture showed how little the room had been used.
