high seat and kept repeating Silas’ name over and over. It walked to a door that Silas had not previously noticed and shut it hard.
Silas looked to one of the guards beside him. “Did I do something?”
The guard dog just displayed its sharp teeth more, warning Silas not to open his mouth again. He looked down to his feet then to the gate. He wished he could figure out why he was there and what was going on. His memory was blank. He wished there was something for him to grasp a hold of. He wished there was something to give him hope before he met his sure demise.
After several minutes the judge returned, the massive book still under an arm. Slowly, it walked up the steps and back to the high seat.
“Silas Ainsley,” it said as it opened the book and finished writing his name. “The gate is only a brief walk that way. If you try to run or struggle, my guards will tear you to pieces and you will be tossed through the gate anyway.”
“Why did you hesitate with me?” Silas asked confused.
The judge looked up from under its tiny spectacles and seemed as if it wanted to say something, but thought better of it. “Don’t make the guards tear you apart, Silas Ainsley.”
Silas wanted an answer, but knew he would not get one. Fear moved through him, but he stepped towards the searing gate anyway. He held his head high, knowing death was about to overtake him.
The walk was like eternity and he felt as though everyone behind him, including the man-dogs had faded into a mist. He was alone and just inches away from the heatless fire. He raised his hand to the glass allowing his fingers to go through to the other side. He pulled it back as he felt his fingers go numb with cold as if someone had poured ice water over them. This must have been the cold of death waiting for him. He took one last breath and stepped into the glass. For a moment his entire body was drenched with the freezing cold, just as his hand had been. Then, darkness.
Chapter Eight
It was early morning and Julian Hobbes had a lot of work to do. By day's end he would be in the northern region of Marenon, a place called Farlaweer. It was the capital of Marenon and it housed the king and a large part of the king's army. Julian was not sure if he would ever be granted an audience with the king again, but he had to try. His Majesty was the only person with access to the medallion in that part of Marenon. One may have wondered why the council would have decided to send Julian to confront the king and somehow get close enough to the medallion to steal it. He was the least experienced when it came to council dealings and the youngest person of any of them. But the answer was simple. The king was Julian's older brother. King Morgan Hobbes.
Julian stepped out onto the balcony of his room letting the brisk morning wind wake him. The mountains in the distance were covered with green forests and a blanket of white haze covered the valley. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, but it called out for all people and beasts of the light to begin their day and start their work. He was still not sure of his plan. He knew he had to request the king's presence and then he would wait. It all depended on how Morgan felt. Morgan disliked Julian greatly, especially since Julian was on the council of a group that had been technically outlawed. But there would be no punishment. Only Dunarians that hindered Marenon’s plans would be punished. It was an unwritten rule of Morgan's. He had detested his father and opposed him on just about every issue. Their father supported the Dunarians for everything they were. He had even given them money to help continue their cause. King Ruben Hobbes had been the best king for the Dunarians, but his sudden and mysterious death meant the rise of Morgan’s power. Julian, having been a close follower of Ruben's politics, had joined the Dunarian Order almost two years before Morgan sat on the throne. Julian was selected to be on the council about the same time their father died, and Morgan took the throne. It was a slap in the face and Julian was