The Marenon Chronicles Collection - By Jason D. Morrow Page 0,118

revealing a large golden key. “I’ve got the proof right here.”

Julian’s brow furrowed at the sight of the key.

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t think I cheat without protecting myself? In case the other council members decide to betray me, I’ve kept a record proving who has been on my side and who hasn’t. This key opens the door to that record.”

“I don’t believe you,” Julian said.

“As I said before, Julian. It doesn’t matter what you think. What is true is true. What is false is false. What you have to say about it changes nothing. Now if you’ll step out of my way, I have to deal with your friends.”

Holden began to move past Julian, but he stood firm, sword pointing to the traitor’s face.

“You don’t want to fight me, Julian,” Holden warned.

“You’re right. I want to kill you.”

Before Julian could even register what had happened, Holden’s sword was out deflecting his. Without hesitation Holden slashed again, while Julian barely had time to parry. He had been taken by surprise and didn’t have the proper footing for a duel. Again, Holden jabbed and slashed. Julian was scarcely surviving each blow as each swing barely missed, until finally Holden cut high and Julian was able to duck and take a stab of his own that was blocked by Holden. Julian had met a formidable opponent, but he would not let Holden get away this time.

Chapter Thirty

The group rushed up one of the circular paths, winding around the mountain. Silas was thankful to have regained some of his strength since the crash with Skarret, but he still did not feel quite up to the task of reaching the top. He hoped that Coffman and Lorcan would be there soon to fly them out of this nightmare.

The pain in his chest stabbed at him repeatedly with every step he took, and the cut on his shoulder was throbbing. He was sure that he had broken at least two ribs in the crash, and his sword wound from days before was slightly split open again causing small trickles of blood to drip down his arm. Up they ran, the group moving faster and faster without rest. It was imperative that they make it to the top of the fortress in as little time as possible. If Lorcan and Coffman made it to the plateau before the rest of them, the sarians would be exposed and vulnerable. Silas couldn’t bear to think of what might happen if his group made it to the top and Lorcan and Coffman were shot down. They would be left without any chance of escape.

Silas fell behind the others as the pain in his chest continued to deal one crushing blow after another. Without warning, his feet gave out below him and he tumbled to the ground. The staff rolled to the side closest to the mountain wall, but Silas found himself rolling uncontrollably to the ledge. He could hear the cries of the others as they tried to reach him. His skin scraped against the rock as he reached out trying to grab anything to stop himself from falling. If he were to fall over the edge the drop of a thousand feet would surely destroy him. Seemingly out of nowhere, he felt a hand grab his arm as his legs dangled off the side path and over the cliff.

The moment seemed to go in slow motion and in that split second, thoughts of his former life and his brief life in Marenon burst through into consciousness. Hanging from the side of the fortress he could see out over all of Marenon and the sun broke through the clouds as if it was the first time it had been birthed into Mudavé. He looked below at the fields past the outer walls of the city and saw himself astride a white horse, leading thousands of troops into battle against the Stühocs, with Inga and others at his side. Thousands were following him willingly as if they would go into the depths of this demonic hell for him. In this glorious scene, in the middle of the brutal, vicious fight was a man, dressed in white robes staring into Silas’ eyes. Like a dove he opened his arms and flew from the battle to be within inches of Silas’ face. It was an old man. The light that followed him blurred his features, but his presence felt more familiar than anyone he had ever known before.

“Silas,” the man said.

He