CHAPTER 73 – GRAVEYARD OF FEAR


    As Euphrati and Mitakahn’s company got closer they found that the ridge was also a cemetery. They began to walk by arches and tombs of ancient priests and sages. Now closer to the tower the company wandered around the cemetery, lost in their thoughts. All of them convincing themselves, in their own way that they had to find Euphrati’s parent’s grave in order to move on. Bridger took a good look at the tower in the horizon. He could see that it was really three separate towers at the top. Orion ran down the line of graves sniffing insistently over each and every one. Euphrati followed behind him with Mitakahn and checked back and forth on both sides of the graveyard.


    Euphrati could not find it. Neither could anyone else, but they kept looking. Chances were getting slimmer and slimmer as the company ruled four rows out. Soon she would have to face it. The priests were mistaken. She was not the girl they thought she was. However, she reluctantly embraced this story of her parents. Euphrati was convinced she had finally found home, and if it was all a mistake…maybe that would hurt most of all. This story was perfect; an inspiring and heroic tale to show how much Euphrati’s parents loved her. Besides them still being alive, what more could she possibly want? This would be the storybook ending she always wanted… her life to make sense, and have meaning.


    Mitakahn crouched down to have a look at one of the remaining tombstones. An icy breeze hit the back of his neck. He got up and turned around. A thick black fog was rolling in around them. Within the ashen mist dark maroon flames marched wildly towards the company. Excelsior whistled at Orion, and they sprang into action. Excelsior jumped up while Orion sprinted beneath his master and caught him on the back. And in one fluent motion Excelsior rode Orion over to Euphrati, picked her up, and tried to outrun the storm.


    Everyone else followed suit and ran away from its wrath…everyone except Mitakahn. Tron turned back for Mitakahn, but it was too late, so he braced himself for the storm as his shield clicked out from his forearm into place before him. When it blew by Mitakahn, he was still, opening his arms, allowing the waves to wash over him.


    Anilithion tripped over his own feet while trying to sneak a peek at the magical flames. As Bridger, Humbler, and Kunezar tried to help Anilithion up, and Orion ran away with Excelsior and Euphrati on his back, they were all consumed by the maroon wave of wildfire. An infectious monsoon covered the graveyard.


    Mitakahn opened his eyes. He stood on a black canvas. Euphrati woke up and she was still at the cemetery. Anilithion felt the cold waves of fire and darkness blow over him and when he looked up he was back at the shores of Metuchen. When Tron opened his eyes he was sitting alone, but where? He did not know. Excelsior snapped his eyes open. It was dark. He was being restrained and missing something...


    Orion woke up and he was not with his master but lying alone on the grass of the meadowlands. Bridger awoke in bed, back in his room at Compis Falls. Humbler got his bearings back and realized he was sitting down, surrounded by all his friends, in a familiar tavern. Kunezar rubbed his head. He was on his knees and propping himself up off the floor with his other hand. When he got up, he found himself before the great gate of the south, the ancient border of good and evil.


    Euphrati searched around the graveyard, but everyone else was gone. Her only choice was to distract her worries with the adamant objective of finding her parent’s graves. She would waste hours thinking about what might have happened to Mitakahn and the rest of his company. So, for now, she concentrated on continuing her journey. She knelt down beside one of the older tombstones covered in dirt and ivy. After she brushed away the dirt she found her father and mother’s names: ‘ATARI & LYNEA’. At last, she had found her parents.


    A tremendous amount of weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Euphrati finished the trials with strange ease and found herself back at the temple. The High Priest was ready to anoint her as one of their own. Euphrati knelt before the priest with the entire clergy proudly standing behind her. He gave her the ceremonial blessing with their essence of oil. It was now up to Euphrati to find her inner flame.


    Euphrati closed her eyes and searched for it. Finding it hard to focus on something in particular she pictured a fire burning inside her. She tried to give it more detail. Euphrati peeked out of one eye to see if she got her wings. Unfortunately, she did not. The members of the Phoenix Kingdom behind her started to whisper. Euphrati was filling more and more with doubt. How much time did she have exactly? She asked the priest if there was some sort of trick to it. He did not like that question. Euphrati knew what would happen if she could not summon her wings. She did not want to cry in front of everyone, so she excused herself from the temple.


    After that Euphrati was asked to leave Mount Fire. They told her they must have been mistaken; she was not the daughter of their most beloved family. Euphrati was so close to finding out where she truly came from. Now all of that was washing away and she had to start from scratch. Euphrati hated being the orphan girl from the mountain folk. She got about half way down the trail to Mount Fire before she had to stop and cry her heart out. There was no defeat like that of rejection.


    Anilithion crawled off the beach. He was weak and brittle. The jump had caused him great pain, almost a lifetime’s full, all in one instance. So tremendous, Anilithion could barely move himself forward. A stick lay on the sandy floor, old and stoic. He grabbed a hold of it and propped himself up. It became his walking cane. Anilithion pulled tight the cloak he got from the crazed old passerby who he and his cousin met on the Epitaph road. He held it over his head to shield his face from the rain.


    It was a miserable day. But soon he could see the fields of fence and barn filling out the kingdom’s ranches. From afar, the city of Metuchen looked like a simple farm. But as one got closer, it got grander. And Anilithion soon took refuge in the city he had long wanted to return to, his home. When he walked to the Throne house nothing looked familiar besides the stone walls themselves. Mostly the people were different. Something was off. Anilithion walked into the royal hall of the mighty Steed Kingdom, and it was empty.


    When he went to take a look around he caught his reflection in a mirror. He was wearing a full beard with long baleful eyes. He had to have grown forty years. The only proof to his theory was the Crown of Metuchen resting on his head. Anilithion was king. Time had jumped to the future. He looked again at the mirror and found himself standing by the throne. A warrior walked into the hall and quickly approached the throne. With hesitation Anilithion asked him, “What year is it?” as he paced before the throne.


    “My king? Are you okay?”


    “Mortikahn?” Anilithion gasped, “Is that you?”


    The seasoned warrior was his younger brother Mortikahn.


    “What happened?” Anilithion fell to his seat on the throne, rubbing his forehead.


    He could feel the weary wrinkled skin between his fingers. Where had his life gone? What was he doing here? And above all other worries… How was he going to get back?


    Tron was inside a tower. There was only one set of stairs, spiraling up the column. He had a simple choice ahead of him. Up or down. Tron chose up and began climbing. When he reached the top level there was a door. He propped the door open and crawled onto the balcony. At the center of the room were four crystal balls, much like the one he saw at Epitaph City. He took a look outside. His first window was south. He could see the great gate at a close distance. When he walked to the left, a glimpse of the eastern crystal globe caught his eye. He looked deep into it and saw his home city of Crucifire Plains.


    More closely the crystal moved, and he could see his parents. Then he saw himself walk into the picture and greet them with strong hugs, a champion returning from his journeys. But abruptly his time with his parents was cut short, as time itself in the globe began to speed up. People walked rapidly around him as he stood still; unhinged. In a brief stop his friends were all before him, old and dying, as they mourned his parents’ funeral. Then the crystal began to speed again. Soon enough, not his family, not his friends, nor anyone else in the world was alive.


    He now knew why he was standing alone inside this tower. He was the last man alive. Suddenly, all the memories of the time spent with his friends and family between now and his journey with Mitakahn flooded his mind. A soft cringe put everyone he knew to bed, and he immediately felt the sorrow and grief that comes with losing the ones you love. All that time in the flash of an eye. He could only hope that no one else in his shattered company was suffering the same fate…


    Excelsior tried to punch out in front of him, but he could not. The chains were keeping him held down tight to the floor. His neck was also bolted down by a metal strap, so he could not survey the rest of his body. He could feel cold metal tightly harnessing his wrists, ankles, and waist. It was pitch black all around him and he could barely budge. The air was tight and dry. He could not breathe. Excelsior wanted to move, he wanted to free himself. The echoes of his nudging were right behind his ears. Was this his tomb? Was he buried alive and imprisoned against his will? The air drew thin, and Excelsior hyperventilated. He had always hated small, enclosed spaces. But he was too proud to admit it. So, he hid his shame, and his worst fears came true. His choices were either suffocate to death or spend eternity chained down in this black box.


    Orion lifted his head up, but it did not matter. He was exhausted. The poor dog had been walking all day. No matter how far one way he walked, he could never reach a town or a road. This place looked like the meadowlands, a longtime home to him and his master. So big it was the only thing besides the Epitaph Road that could accommodate the wanderers. But no matter how hard he tried, Orion could not cross paths with the Epitaph Road.


    So he had given up and rested upon a small hill, watching the sun set. More than anything in the world, Orion wanted to see his master climb the hill before him, with the sun grilling out his silhouette. That is why he lifted his head, but it was to no avail. And so, he just laid it back down. Orion was lost without his master.


    Excelsior meant everything in the world to him. There had to be a way Orion could get him back, a puppy that lost his best friend. Too tired to think anymore, he dropped his eyelids, and fell asleep. Orion had no idea what to do next, besides wait for his master’s scent across the prevailing winds. Hoping to awake, yet again, in a different place…


    Bridger got out of bed. He felt refreshed and rejuvenated. After dressing, he went to the dining hall and had breakfast with his sisters. It was just like any other day at home. In fact, he had completely forgotten how he had gotten there. But he was just glad to be back again. So, he went out with the hunters scheduled to catch dinner tonight. He went with them into the woodlands, armed only with a spear. The rest of the hunting party had bows and arrows. Only a select few chose spears, a form of bragging rights over their naturally honed abilities as hunters.


    Bridger frequented the art of spear hunting. After all, he was the prince and future king of the kingdom. Today did not seem like any other day. The warriors of the Stag Kingdom were aligned in the forest thick and ready to pounce on their prey. But prior to that, Bridger could not sniff out where the herd was grazing. This had never been a problem for him before. Up until now, he was flawless in his tracking and hunting. He tried to shake it off. Bridger psyched himself up for the hunt.


    A call from his comrades cried out and he knew to charge. They all lifted off their feet a half a second before him and by the time Bridger had gotten to a sprint they were all ahead of him shooting down their targets. Bridger, in a moment of desperation, let his spear fly, with a fierce throw, from a long distance. It wobbled through the air in a dizzy spiral and missed his boar wide right. The prince felt weak, unsure of himself. He dropped to his knees and looked at his hands.


    The crowd of successful hunters circled around him. Bridger tried to listen to the forest. He could hear nothing but the men breathing around him. He tried to smell out the trails of the woodland creatures, but all he could smell was his own worried sweat. One last act finalized it; Bridger rose from the ground, grabbed one of his fellow kinsmen by the collar and tried to lift them into the air. His arm gave out before he could do it. His strength was gone along with his speed and senses. Bridger had lost all of his uncanny abilities. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    The droplets of perspiration were splashing gently on the table as they ran down another glass of ale. There were six mugs on the table, and one bowl below it. Humbler was confused, yet it did not bother him. Nothing could bother him right now. He was in a place in which he loved, amongst the company of his most trusted peers. Humbler looked around.


    From face to face, he saw the absence of emotion. Even when he looked at Orion, lying on the ground, he could only see tainted faces. Had they failed? Humbler could not remember what had happened after the cemetery at Mount Fire. He racked his mind for an answer, but there was nothing. All he could muster was an assumption that they had failed from the look of all the disdained faces.


    Mitakahn looked the worst in Humbler’s eyes. He had to be. His kingdom was destroyed. His family….brutally murdered. His entire life was lost. Beside him was Anilithion worth equal in life to lose, and Tron beside him, wearing the same face. Around the other side of Mitakahn were Excelsior, Bridger, and Kunezar. They were just as worse for wear. Humbler’s memory loss was bothersome, but the overwhelming need to make his friend’s smile was too much to do anything else. Humbler got into it with them, acting like his normal jolly self, cracking wise, and having a good time. But there was not a budge from his gray company.


    He had to ask, ‘what happened?’ But he could not bear his friends the burden of rehashing their failures and misery. Humbler stood up, attempting to get a rise out of everyone. They all turned and looked at Humbler. This was it. This was when the group looked to him. Humbler had always thought of himself as the group’s relief, their last hope when things got too down, too depressing, too dark. If he could not do his job then what good was he?


    He slammed his fist on the table to get their attention, but nothing came out of his mouth. He froze; the sadness was taking over, grabbing a hold of him, and sucking the life out. Humbler was rapidly losing his happiness, losing his joy, losing his smile.


    Humbler was scared. For the first time in a while, he felt fear. It was unwelcomed and uncomfortable. He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to get it off of him. But it did not work. The group looked away from him and he could feel the uniform exhale of giving up. He caught it like an infection and sat back down in his seat.


    If all the joy was gone from life then what was the point in living? An unheard howl in the night. Humbler could never make it as a sad person. Perhaps that is why he thrived as a happy one. Anticipatory drool slides down its fangs. The slippery slope of depression had captured Humbler, dragging him down. Like a world with no sun, he felt lifeless. The berserker stood tall behind him eclipsing his light. Humbler’s spirit was dead. And the dark wolf feasted into the night.


    Kunezar got himself up. He took a good look around. In the distance, to his left was the ocean. To his right, far right, he could see murky swamplands. And directly in front of him was the great gate. A solid, towering, black metal gate spanning the distance between the southern gap of the Burning Mountains, dividing the North from the South, the lands of good and freedom from the badlands. Somehow, Kunezar was on the wrong side. He was stuck in the badlands.


    He looked back to see if he could locate the legendary Temple of Darkness. There was some sort of structure in the distance, but he could not see. Kunezar pounded on the wall. He wanted to go back. He wanted to get back to the cemetery and the rest of his friends. From behind him, sinister laughter echoed closer. Immediately, Kunezar unsheathed his sword and prepared for battle.


    When he turned around, three soldiers with rotted armor wearing colors of the Dragon Kingdom waited for him. Upon seeing Kunezar they did not arm themselves. In fact, they were not fazed at all by him, which begged to question his current appearance. Kunezar looked at his sword. It was not the smooth steel of his trusted blade, but a crooked scimitar rusted down the edge. His clothing was war-torn and dirty. As Kunezar continued to examine himself, the dark warriors behind him clubbed at the wall. The great gate shook and rattled.


    It was suspiciously weak. The black metal crumbled before him, and they ran forward; north. Kunezar screamed. He followed suit behind the dark ones and invaded the SandLands. Kunezar followed the rancid wave of evil into the northern kingdoms, and flanked left.


    Soon he came across the banks of the Equitor River. The river shimmered below him as he walked on the water’s edge. He had to have a look for himself. What had he become? When he knelt over the reflection, he came upon a mind shattering sight. The skin on his face was burnt and scaly. His features underneath were all still the same, his mouth, cheekbone, nose, brow, even his eyes, except for his irises, which were a pale shade of light amethyst. Kunezar stood up. Something he had long feared had come to pass. Just like the ancient god Dracobra turned from lizard to dragon, Kunezar had transferred kingdoms, transforming from man to monster.


    The sinister laughter returned. This time when he turned around, the three evil soldiers that accompanied him through the gate were back, holding a poor mother and her children. From the look of it, they were poor beggars from the Komodo Maze. Kunezar was still holding his scimitar. He had forgotten that it replaced his sword and had oddly grown fond of it. The corrupt line of the blade resembled his brewing attitude.


    They looked so helpless in front of him. There was nothing the poor family could do. Like sheep to the slaughter, there was no hope. Kunezar wiped his mouth, he was drooling. He could smell their blood, their fear. Worse than that, it smelled good. He was not himself. Kunezar had fallen to the dark side.


    Mitakahn woke up in a dark room. When he woke up, he was on the hill, beside the victim. A shiver folded down his spine. He looked down and found that he was holding a knife.


    The walls felt like they were closing in around him. There by a window, the only window in the room, the stars lit the ground. An old man was sleeping in a bed with three silhouettes hanging above him. With the knife in his hands, he stabbed. He stabbed and they stabbed, he was amongst them and approaching them. Through their cloaked obscure, through the old man, the knives tore the bed up.


    The dagger plunged into the victim on the bed and the screams rang out and floated over the distance. Back and forth, his body flailed as their arms lunged in fury. Mitakahn knew their voices. It couldn’t be. He knew not what he did, with who he did it, or who he did it to.


    He threw himself at the window to try and break it, but he could not get to himself. The daggers re-surface briefly before another attack. Mitakahn watched the victim writhe in slaughter. The pressure built up enough to shatter the glass. The crying and laughter finally broke free and stung his ears. Mitakahn screamed to match the outside anguish. He spooked the figures before the bed. Blood trickled down the blade. Where was he? Inside the house with the knife? Or outside looking in?


    It looked pure. In his release he glanced up and saw an unfinished house with a roof of night sky. He brought the blade up and wiped it off. Mitakahn dug his hands into the wall. It moved thick like mud. The screams had stopped. He got over the wall, and fell to the floor, but it was too late; the victim was dead. At least Mitakahn could finally identify the murderers, the evildoers, the three to blame for all of this... He could not believe what he saw. A familiar feeling washed over him like Mitakahn was back in the mountains after the funeral. What had he seen? What did he know? The worst part was the most incontrovertible piece of horror… Mitakahn caught a glimmer from the moonlight off the metal of his dagger’s reflection and saw the victim’s face…his father’s face…


    Just as suddenly as the maroon flames came upon them, Mitakahn and his company were thrown back to the graveyard. Many would not face their worst fears again for some time to come, a scattered uneven plot on the ongoing timeline, each member dealing with their brief windows and the reparations at their own pace. But for one, vision would turn to reality with very little difference. The transition was smooth, and his panic remained. Excelsior thrust his hands forward one more time and the chains shattered into thin air.


    His center of gravity dropped, and he was able to kick the box. Heel after heel into the short board under his feet proved successful. The plank of wood splintered and cracked, pushing into the surrounding soil. Excelsior could feel the fresh air on his cheek. What little there was quickly faded away.


    Excelsior needed more. He twisted his posture around and moved the broken wall of the crate inside, giving himself room to dig. Excelsior channeled his energy into shoving the dirt. With his hands he dropped it between his legs. He was making some headway. The tunnel was tight with barely any room to reach. Excelsior was choking on the dirt continuously pouring onto his face. His arms were getting stuck. He tried to back into the box to start over but could not budge. He was stuck. His elbows were caught by the edges of the broken wall, and once again the air was growing thin.


    Mitakahn woke up lying on the floor, his head resting on a tombstone.


    “PROMETHEUS” it read.


    The tombstone looked like the oldest by far, and most lavish; silken golden curves and glistening amber crystal. He got to his feet and looked around. Anilithion was right next to him, with his head resting on the adjacent tombstone. And next to him was Tron, and then Bridger, Humbler, Kunezar, and Euphrati further down the line. They were all slowly coming to.


    Tron rubbed his eyes as Mitakahn helped Anilithion up. Anilithion leaned on his cousin and felt his own face, making sure the skin was smooth again and not brittle. To his relief it was full of youth and life. Bridger got his bearings back and sprung to his feet, happy to feel his power once again. Humbler looked around and saw the smiling faces of his friends. It was only Mitakahn and Kunezar who did not walk away from this awakening somewhat relieved.


    Instead, they held in deep seeded secrets of themselves, hoping to never have them resurface again. Mitakahn knelt down before Euphrati as she was still somewhere else inside her head. He gently stirred her awake, but before he could say anything, he was caught off guard by the names written on the tombstone Euphrati was lying on.


    “What happened…what happened to us? Are we back?” questioned Euphrati as she rubbed the back of her head. There was no answer.


    “Mitakahn?” she continued, “what’s wrong?”


    “Your father…” muttered Mitakahn, “they said his name was Atari right?” as he tapped the tombstone with his fingertips.


    “Yes,” confirmed Euphrati. She caught his gaze and followed it to the headstone.


    “ATARI & LYNEA” it said, just like in her vision.


    She had found her parents’ final resting place. At last, the mystery was finally put to bed. For some curious reason, even though in her heart she knew these were her parents and this was her home, some doubt still remained deep down, and she knew exactly why.


    “Where’s Excelsior and Orion?” shouted Kunezar.


    The crew looked around at his request. In their attempt to resolve the events of lately, they had inexcusably forgotten their friend and his four-legged companion. Echoes of captured screams charged their hearts.


    Mitakahn looked around as they all yelled out around him, “Excelsior!”


    “Excelsior!”


    “Orion!”


    “EXCELSIOR!”


    Excelsior was losing the will to go on. He was stuck and there was no way out. He pushed his right arm back, his elbow digging into the dirt, and punched through the earth poking out into the air.


    Bridger put his ear to the floor and could hear short frantic breathing. Suddenly a hand popped out of the ground before him and Kunezar. They quickly ran over to it and grabbed it. Kunezar called for the rest of the company to come. They all began digging around the arm and encouraging Excelsior to hold on. Together, they could not pull him from the ground. This seemed to be the end for Excelsior. How did his nightmare become real? What made him different from the others? Euphrati felt a little paranoid, as she wondered why it was not her being physically tested by the trial.


    There was nothing any man could do for him. Mitakahn raked at the dirt furiously, trying not to give up on his best friend. He looked around as he panted and tried to catch his breath; his friends were still digging all around him, but only making a little headway. The earth below their fingernails was tough, unforgiving.


    Something was missing. Not something, but someone. Just then, out from over the ridge, Orion’s head could be seen. He was in full sprint and heading right for them. Together, the group backed away from Excelsior’s tomb, careful not to collide with Orion’s landing. He immediately began bulldozing the earth out from in between him and his master; doing what the rest of the company could not. His mighty canine claw tearing through the stubborn earth with ease. In Excelsior’s last breath, he threw his arms out and broke free from his prison. The skin on his fingers instantly felt the familiar touch of a loved one. He grabbed his most loyal companion’s fur and was lifted out of the premature grave.


    Orion slid Excelsior out and laid down next to him, as Mitakahn wiped his eyes, nose, and mouth clean of dirt. He was still breathing, but barely conscious. Orion licked his forehead. Excelsior began coughing and opened his eyes. He was back. Everyone smiled around each, completely relieved that he was okay.


    Euphrati gave them a chance to gather themselves as she looked ahead at the tower. The red clouds of smoke churned above. The winds blew and the mountains walled around them. Mitakahn was the first to walk up and meet with her.


    “That must be the Observatory we were looking for,” he said.


    “If that was any hint of what’s to come, I don’t think it''s going to get any easier.”


    “We’re still with you, Euphrati,” Mitakahn put his hand on his shoulder, “Even Excelsior.”


    After a short break, the group once again rallied, and left the cemetery, ready for the next trial.