The Chronicles of Kale: Dawn of Retribution (Book 2) (8 page)

“Nice work, old man!” Illadar enthusiastically yelled.

Another blast sent the other falling face-forward when his knees were obliterated from his legs.

“See, kid, we can handle this. Now let’s get you outta’ here and find Neelan.” Illadar began to work on breaking Kale free from the handcuffs, which had him bound in place with a chain made of nothing more than sand. “How is this possible? These things don’t budge.” Illadar tugged firmly on the sand-chain.

“Allow me.” Thomas knelt to Kale’s side. “This will not be pleasant, my friend.”

Kale swallowed hard and nodded, his focus remaining on rescuing Neelan as quickly as possible.

“
Silant devorda.
” The words escapes Thomas’ lips and instantly, Kale went mute to the world.

Kale’s eyes widened in confusion as Thomas lunged an arm forward, gripping hold of his wrist. With a muttered incantation, Kale felt the pain searing through his bones. A sickening crack sounded against the silence and he glanced behind his back to see his hands had been crushed to no more than limp, hanging chunks of flesh. Before he could react, Thomas slid Kale’s hands through the solid sand cuffs.

The old sorcerer smiled comfortingly and, with a wave of his hand, he cast a spell of healing upon his friend. Beads of perspiration rolled from Thomas’ slender nose as he quickly shoved the sleeves of his robe over each hand. “We need to hurry. I have a strong notion our two new
friends
are not done.”

Illadar continued to investigate the mysterious chain that seemed to be grounded into the sandy floor. It was baffling.

Kale sighed in relief as he rolled his wrists, which felt surprisingly unscathed by the incident. He squinted into the darkness and listened closely, certain he heard something nearby.

The figures appeared quickly; their staves held offensively forward.

“No!” Kale shouted as he watched the blunt side of the enemy weapons jab forcefully against the backside of his friends’ skulls.

The two attackers stood as though never having received damage. Their bodies fully formed without an injury. The tiny orb once again flickered until dimming to nothingness over Thomas’ limp body. Kale was alone with the creatures in complete darkness.

Chapter 7: The Chosen One

T
homas slowly blinked his eyes, groaning at the pounding sensation within his head. He rubbed the back of his skull—no blood. He released a sigh of relief as he adjusted himself into an upright position. His eyes panned the open space which was dimly lit by small glowing craters in the ground. He wondered if they emitted heat as he wiped a glaze of sweat from his forehead; the area was uncomfortably hot.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Thomas jumped and spun around to see Kale sitting behind him, unbound, his hands resting in his lap.

“We’ve gotta’ find a way out of here.” Illadar mumbled as he forced himself into a seated position.

The three had been locked within a larger cage. It appeared, like the others, to be made of nothing more than sand.

“Thomas, do you have any idea what this place might be?” Kale questioned, knowing Thomas was educated on many locations that had been documented over time in Ravondore.

“I haven’t the slightest, Kale.” Thomas peered out at the staggered huts. Each was constructed out of packed sand, with an open entrance hole and flat rooftop. There were tall, totem-like structures scattered about the area, each with unique features.

“We need to get out and find Neelan. Who knows what those
things
plan to do with her. I can’t understand why they separated her from us.” The thought of Neelan being alone with the monstrosities made Kale’s chest tighten.

“Move to the back of the cage. I shall attempt to release us. Once out, we must take great caution as there may be more of those creatures waiting to ambush us again.” Thomas aimed his palm toward the front bars of the cage. “
Kruedia esonek
!” The red ball shot out and exploded the bars into thousands of tiny pieces that landed in all directions.

“Nicely do—” Kale’s words stopped short as they watched the bars immediately reform into a solid imprisonment once again. “Curses!” Kale shouted.

The sound of heavy marching could be heard nearby—amplifying with each passing second. Suddenly, a swarm of enemies infiltrated the large area. Each wore the same wrapped cloth around their heads, long-sleeved white tops, and brown pants. In the dim lighting it was hard to view their bare feet or hands—though Kale could swear they appeared much too large to be human. A tightly formed group stepped in rhythm toward the cage, carrying a throne of sand draped with red velvet cloth.

“Let me out!” A voice from within cried out.

Kale could immediately tell it was Neelan. “I’m here! Are you all right?!” He called to her while tugging at the bars with all his strength.

The red drapery lifted, and he could now see Neelan perched atop the throne. Her attire had been completely altered; she now wore rose-colored harem pants, puffed at the legs. Her top was in matching color and bared her abdomen. Thick gold jewelry draped from her body and elaborate colors were painted around her eyes. Her hair had been wrapped with sheer ribbons into a high ponytail upon her head.

“Kale, I’m so glad you are safe!” She yelled down to him. “They think I am their destined Queen. I don’t understand what is happening!”

In an instant, everything grew silent and the enemy warriors moved in unison to one side of the sand-built village. A tall individual approached, his clothing draped from his body, walking with a slight hunch. Grasped tightly in his palm was a thick staff, crafted of sand and topped with a red sphere that looked identical to the illuminations within the surrounding craters.

“Our sacrifices to you, future Queen of Talutta.” He motioned toward Kale, Illadar, and Thomas.

“Sacrifices?! Those are my friends! Release them at once!” Neelan shouted.

“We cannot. You are our key to rise—it is your destiny. A sacrifice must be made. One must be fed to the pit so the ritual will complete and bind you as our Queen.” The hunched man thrust his arm out in the direction of a sizable crater at the far end of the room.

“I am not your Queen! I refuse to live among you—monsters!” Neelan leapt from the throne. Her feet hit the ground gracefully and she swiftly raced toward the cage where Kale was imprisoned. “I’ll get you out of here!” She pulled on the bars while frantically searching for a lever or lock.

A thick hand, wearing black gloves, reached around Neelan’s face and pulled her back. Four more hands gripped her arms, extending them in opposite directions so she could not flee.

“Let her go!” Kale shouted. He reached through the bars as far as he could in an attempt to touch her.

“You
will
become our Queen.” The tall, hunched man approached Neelan. His gloved hand gripped her cheeks, squeezing them tightly together until she blinked her eyes hard in pain.

“Remove your hand at once!” Kale’s blood boiled and he began to ram his body against the bars of the cage.

He could feel his blood warming and knew the temperature in his palms was rising quickly. Kale was well aware, from failed attempts, that his power was useless against the mysterious sand entrapment. He had tried several times to melt the tiny grains to liquid, but could not raise the heat within himself enough to do so. Despite this knowledge, he allowed the warmth to pulsate through him—coursing through his veins and fueling his adrenaline. Then, the tingling began. Kale clenched his jaw, fighting what he knew was inevitably about to happen. His fingers shook uncontrollably and he instinctively moved away from the others, holding his arms out at his sides. The skin on his fingertips began to burn as the bone-like claws burst through his flesh.

Thomas, Illadar, and the surrounding army of men froze—dumbstruck by the sudden occurrence.

Knowing he couldn’t turn back time, and well aware that his newly kept secret had been revealed, Kale released a deep roar of anger. “I told you to leave her be!” He swiped a clawed-hand forward with intense speed. Kale cut through the bars with ease and wasted no time to leap through the opening, before it magically melded back together.

Within seconds, a barrier of warriors circled Kale; each with their staff pointed toward his skull.

“Settle!” The hunched man commanded with a hand raised above his head.

The warriors immediately relaxed their weapons and took a step back, allowing Kale room without the hazard of being stabbed to death with any sudden movement.

The hunched man, an obvious authority figure among the army, pushed his way through the circle.

Kale defensively held his clawed-hands out, prepared to swipe the man’s torso into shreds if threatened.

The man stood in silence; his black, beady eyes peered out from the wrappings around his head. “So you
have
come. Just as foretold—just as
she
said.” He reached out with no hesitation and gripped Kale’s palm. His eyes traced each claw, inspecting every inch in deep thought.

     “Who in Pan’s name do you think you are?!” Kale pulled his arm back in fury. “You dare to ambush us, capture the woman I love, and imprison my friends, then approach me as though we are allies? I do not think so.” His claws lashed out toward the man’s arm, instantly tearing through the long ivory sleeves.

     Kale was amazed at how easily his newfound mutation glided through the muscle and bone—until he saw it. The man’s arm fell to the ground and landed in a misshapen mound. The stump where his bicep once was now trickled down—not with blood—but sand. Kale watched as thousands of particles moved from the ground, into the man’s pant leg as it crept up to his shoulder. Within seconds, another arm began to form; appearing as solid as a human limb.

     Kale was completely taken aback by the idea that the men, who had captured him and his friends, were no more than walking lumps of sand. The thought enraged him and he refused to accept such inferior beings triumphing. He positioned his feet, preparing to lunge an attack at the hunched creature.

     “Attempting to attack, when you know it will be futile, would be a most foolish move. I now know who you are and why you have come here.” The hunched being turned his back to Kale. “Follow if you wish to fulfill your destiny.” He looked over at the surrounding group of his comrades. “Release the prisoners—and bring
her
to me.”

    
They know about the eggs. I’m certain of it
. Kale thought as he willingly followed. He glanced over a shoulder to ensure Thomas and Illadar had been freed and were following behind. Neelan had returned to her throne and was escorted to the front.

     The group walked past many structures and houses before coming to a split in the path. One direction led to a dark, uninviting cave, the other, a sizable gate that towered above their heads.

     “I do hope we are not going in there.” Thomas gestured toward the dark opening.

     “Unless you desire to remain behind with my comrades, I think you should come with me.” The hunched being did not turn to face Thomas, but instead continued to walk in the direction of the darkness.

     Thomas took one glance around at the many black-eyed warriors, each wielding a staff, and decided it’d be in his best interest to follow. “The things I do for you, Kale,” he mumbled under his breath and sighed.

The room was much smaller than they had assumed from its outer appearance. As they entered, the hunched being waved his hand around in the air, his sandy fingers danced in an enchanting rhythm.

They watched as the ground shifted before their eyes. Sand crept up in a spiraling motion, taking the form of four stools.

“Please seat yourselves.” The hunched being gestured for them to sit. “You will have to excuse our lack of accommodations. It’s not every day we have visitors.” He chuckled to himself.

“Where is Neelan?” Kale immediately questioned, noticing she had not followed them inside the cave.

“She will be joining us momentarily. The Queen must wear proper attire when seated among outsiders.”

“By
outsiders
, you do mean yourself, correct? Because I’ll have you know that we came here with Neelan, and we will be leaving with her as well.” Kale spoke with a threatening inflection.

The hunched being rested his staff against the wall and turned to face Kale. “I shall explain things—some you will want to know—and some you will
need
to know.” He held out his bare hand with fingers spread. “I’m sure it is clear by now that we are no longer human.”

“No longer?” Illadar questioned while wiping sweat beads from his upper lip.

“Yes. We were all once just like you—flesh and blood. Now we are no more than the sand itself, cursed to live beneath the very surface we once walked upon.”

“You were human? What happened?” Kale was now intrigued by the story. He settled upon the chair, feeling secure the hunched being was not about to attack them.

“Let me explain from the beginning of this lurid mess. I’ll start by introducing myself—you may call me Reem. My comrades and I were huntsmen of treasure. We would scout the desert in search of valuables from ancient times or that which had been forgotten by travelers. We were noble with our intentions and never attempted to steal or pillage when in search of wealth. For years we lived by this profession, until the day we came upon a rare relic, found within a tomb which had been covered over the years by sand, masked by a large dune.

“On our travel to a northern town to trade the item, we were confronted by a clan of bandits—those with foul intentions. They wanted what
we
had rightfully found. Of course, we did not give in so easily and attempted to fight with nothing more than our staves—a foolish move that would soon cost our lives.” Reem laughed under his breath. “Had I only listened to my father as a child, maybe this would not have happened. He always warned me to never allow greed to overcome my moral judgment. Yet, there I stood to defend an old necklace, placing myself and the others who followed my lead in danger.

“We stood strong, but alas, the bandits overpowered us. Though we were many, their weapons prevailed—our skill was simply not superior to theirs. Our newfound foes however did not choose to slay us. They were sadistic in their means and wanted to see us suffer for seeking riches in what they proclaimed was
their
territory. Each of us were hung, with our feet toward the sky from a post, one at a time so the others could watch in horror at what was to come. The rope holding us was lowered until our faces sunk beneath the surface in a pit of sand. They ensured I was the last, so I would feel the impact of my defiant actions. Together, before our time as living men had come to an end, we made a vow—our spirits would not rest until we sought vengeance. We knew that men with such cruel hearts would only continue to torment the lives of those with whom they crossed paths. It was not something we were willing to accept as we sank into the earth.