Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Aramus stood quiet and closed his eyes.
But all he could think was just how angry he became at the thought of Ha-Lah in any danger.
How much she chafed at that.
And how much danger the both of them faced along with all their friends.
Indeed, everyone on the continent.
He opened his eyes.
“I must descend.”
Bond drew in an audible breath before he nodded.
“I did my best,” he said.
“You did, my brother,” Aramus murmured.
He then clapped his friend on the shoulder, and without looking at the others, he turned to the mouth of the abyss.
He was a large man, the path was narrow, the fall so far, he could not see the bottom, just hear the whoosh of surf all the way to the top.
But he did not hesitate taking his first step, or his next, or the ones after.
As his father told him, the farther he descended, the deeper the darkness that surrounded him.
However, unlike others, who, if they tried to take this journey, would eventually find themselves blind and either have to turn around, or end up falling to their deaths, he could always see the path before him, a magical light guiding the way of the king who was proclaimed thus by the gods.
But his father had not told him, for his father had never found reason to take this descent, about the sound of the angry sea at the bottom, and how, step after step, the volume increased, so as to become a din, a thunder, a roar.
And as it churned, it splashed, so much eventually the mist felt like rain.
Aramus was soaked to the skin by the time he could see the tempest whirling at the base. The water was agitated to the point it was all white, the chasm wide, the swirl violent, the knowledge immediate that if he should fall into that foam, he’d be sucked deep, perhaps his drowned corpse taken to the earth’s core.
It was humid but chill, wet, dank, dark, and as he wound his way around and around the abyss, again and again, he wondered if he’d been descending ten minutes or if time had warped and he’d been gone ten years.
A man could go mad down here, he thought, just as he saw the lanterns.
Orbs of green and blue glass, glowing from within, perhaps twenty feet in front of him. They hung at odd intervals, and only very dimly lit what appeared to be a circular opening to a cave on the side of the cliff path.
As his father had warned him not to do, Aramus did not hasten his step. One stumble on this slick rock, and it would not be Ha-Lah who would be lost to him due to the fates.
It would be he who was gone forever.
Carefully, he made it to the orbs and stood outside their murky glow.
“It is I, King Aramus,” he called against the crash of water behind him, feeling a complete fool.
“And it is I who receives The Head.”
The Head?
“Enter, King of the Sea,” the voice bid.
Dodging hanging orbs, Aramus did that, and even though he went through no door, the moment those orbs were behind him, the thunder of the swirling sea became naught but the sound of gentle waves lapping a shore.
Aramus did not like that.
He also did not question it.
He further did not like that beyond those orbs there was nothing but pitch dark.
He did not question that either.
“It has been long,” a voice came from the shadows.
Aramus knew not how to respond.
Thus, he simply said, “Yes.”
“Did your father tell you of me?” the voice asked.
It sounded old, but strong. Wise, but elusive. He could not even pinpoint from where it was coming.
And in those shadows, he could see not a thing.
“Yes,” he repeated.
“So you know, you do not descend without peril. And you do not learn without sacrifice.”
Shite.
“I know,” Aramus confirmed.
“The unicorn and the balls, the shadow and the cock, the sage and the heart, the crystal and the head,” the voice sang eerily.
And nonsensically.
“May I sit?” Aramus requested.
“Do you wish to sup with your bride?” the voice asked.
“Yes.”
“Then no, my king. I think your visit should be brief.”
Aramus forced himself to breathe evenly, but deeply.
Then he began, “There is much happening.”
“Oh, I know. I know. Know, know, know. I know everything, Sea King.”
Aramus had no reply.
“So what do you give me to get what you wish of me?” the voice asked.
“What do you want?”
“Your first child.”
Aramus took a step back, his hand instinctively moving to the saber at his belt.
“I see this is not to your liking,” the voice noted.
“My father told me the sacrifice would be mine to make. That would be mine. But it would also be my wife’s. You may require of me. You do not require of her.”
A disturbing chuckle before, “And I see your father was thorough.”