telling you,” Silas said. “Not until you tell me why you need it.”
He could see the man's face turn red with frustration, maybe anger. “We don't have time for this. They are coming, Silas, and if they get here before we get the medallion it will fall into their hands. You don’t want that to happen, I assure you.”
It wasn't enough. For all he knew this was just a ploy for the man to get his hands on the medallion and kill Silas. What if this was just another possessed person that took a more thought out approach?
“Tell me why you want it so bad, and it's yours.”
The man waited, staring into Silas' eyes, frustrated. He wanted the medallion and he wasn't going to get it because of some seventeen-year-old with an attitude.
“If we don't get the medallion it falls into the hands of the Stühocs. They will comb this mountain to find it. They also won't rest until they have you.”
“Why do they want it? What is it?”
“It comes down to this, Silas,” the man said with ferocity. “There is a war coming and the person with the most medallions wins. I know you don't know me and having my side win may not sound like the most appealing thing to you right now, but I don't care. It would be much better to be in my hands than that of the Stühocs’. If the Stühocs are able to get the medallions then they will destroy us all.”
“Medallions? You mean there's more than one?”
He nodded. “Yours is just one of six.”
The man let his words sink in, then added, “If you don't mind, we must go.” The sword strapped to his back was glinting in the torchlight. He looked as if he were from another world, another time. Silas nodded, accepting the fact that he would not get all of his answers today.
“It's in the truck. We dumped it over the cliff two days ago. I'm not sure how long it will take to get there.”
“You mean it's not in the cave?” The man looked alarmed.
“That's right. My grandfather hid it in the truck so Marcus or Theron couldn't get to it.”
The man simply nodded and continued to think to himself. After a few long breaths he said, “It could be very dangerous out there. I'm not sure if the Stühocs have made it this far yet.”
It was difficult for Silas to guess what the man was planning. He did not feel the great sense of urgency this man felt, though it seemed he should.
“But we have to get the medallion,” the man continued. “Your grandfather was counting on it. It is essential to the plan.”
“What is the plan?” Silas tried once more.
“For now it's to stay alive, and get that medallion before the Stühocs do.”
“Are these others possessed by the Stühocs just like Theron and Marcus?”
“No,” he answered. “These are not the possessed, these are the possessors.”
Silas’ face drained of blood and his skin grew cold.
The man then moved abruptly. “Come,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“To get the medallion. You have to lead me to the truck.”
The man walked toward the cave’s opening, picked up Theron’s sword from the ground and tossed it to Silas. Catching the sword at his chest, Silas followed the stranger who made his way in the direction of the woods behind the cave.
“You know how to use that thing?”
“Of course,” Silas answered.
“Good. Don't use it unless you have to. Leave the fighting to me unless you have no choice.”
Silas stopped for a moment and the man waited.
“A friend of my grandfather's must have a name, I'm sure.”
The man paused and respectfully gave a short bow. “Silas Ainsley, my name is Kaden Osric. I am your guide and your protector.”
Chapter Four
“That's not good enough,” Garland said pressing the cold steel of his sword to Silas' neck. “If you keep trying to go for the killing move every time, you will slip up and die.”
Silas shook his head as the sweat dripped from his brow. A trickle of blood ran from his nose, a trophy he earned from being too cocky with his maneuvering. Training with his grandfather was always fierce, but that day had been much more difficult. He had never beaten Garland in combat of any sort whether it was hand-to-hand, sword, staff, none of it. His grandfather was a master at fighting and Silas would never do as well.
He was fifteen and had been training since he could remember. In the end,