The Marenon Chronicles Collection - By Jason D. Morrow Page 0,4

he held his dying grandfather. Silas lifted the gun and pulled back both hammers, but was too late. Marcus slapped the gun away and it fell to the ground harmlessly. He reached for his sword from behind, but was sharply kicked in the face before it could leave its sheath. Silas had been blinded with the kick. All he could see was black and could hear nothing but a loud ringing. With one last breath, he heaved and slipped out of consciousness.

When he woke, he wasn't sure if he had yet opened his eyes, but soon realized he was blindfolded. Ropes were tied tight against his wrists in front of him. His head felt as though a marching band had paraded on his skull and the trumpets were still blowing. He moved his arms to see if there was any chance of freeing himself. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t tied to anything, although the knotted ropes around his wrists and legs made his escape feel impossible. After a few moments he mustered the strength to slide on his rear to a dirt wall. He rubbed his face against it. The rough edge scraped open his flesh, the dry dirt on his face becoming mud. Finally his eyes were free of the blindfold, but his ability to see was not much better than before.

He was in a small room. It was dark except for a small stream of light coming in through a hole in the door on the other side. Its source was weak and seemed to flicker as if it were a torch. Once his eyes were able to adjust, he looked down to find a lifeless body lying on the ground just feet away.

“Grandpa?” Silas whispered.

Silence.

“Grandpa!” He said more sharply.

Finally the body breathed to life, but the breath was shallow and ragged. “Silas,” he said. His voice sounded almost as a memory. If Silas hadn't been listening for it, he would have never heard him. But he could hear and the sound was that of a dying man fighting a battle for every last breath. His wounds showed that he had been shot twice. How is he still alive? The image of his grandfather lying helpless on the bloodstained ground would be burned into his mind forever. He had never seen him in such a helpless state. He wished more than anything that they had not come to this mountain in the first place.

Silas sluggishly moved his body to his grandfather. Garland had been left there to die and Silas wished he could comfort him. With his hands and legs tied, he knelt next to him.

“I guess they got the medallion,” Silas said.

A slight grin came across Garland's face. “No.”

Silas cocked his head waiting for an explanation.

The sound Garland made was as though he was reaching for each word. “When they found that it wasn't on either of us,” he took a long pause to breathe, “they questioned me for … for about twenty minutes. I wouldn't tell them anything, so they brought me in here.”

“How come they didn’t find it? I saw you with it in the truck.”

“Exactly,” Garland said with a smile. “There’s a hidden compartment behind the seat. If you didn’t know about it, you’d never find it. I placed the medallion there when you weren’t looking.”

For some reason a wave of relief fell over Silas, not because he was happy the medallion was temporarily safe, but that his grandfather wasn't about to die in vain. If either Marcus or Theron had their grimy hands on the medallion, Garland's death would be for nothing.

With the relief came a fountain of remorse flooding his body, resulting in a bleeding of tears. His grandfather, the only man who had ever cared anything about him, was about to die. There was no more time and Garland's death was inevitable. With him gone there was no one, no family or friends in this life. Silas was old enough to take care of himself, but that wasn't the problem. He was about to be truly alone.

Garland held up a hand when he noticed the tears rolling down Silas' face. “Silas. There is nothing you can do. I will be fine.”

“You're going to die.”

“It's not the end of the world, Silas.”

“I don't want to be alone. I need you here.”

“You won't be alone.”

Silas didn't know how Garland could say this. It wasn't true, but he wasn't going to make this harder than it was.

“Are you in pain?” he