The Wars of Zegandaria by Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov, Atanas Marinov (find a book to read .txt) 📕

- 'It is said that there are archaneans still lurking up there,' Zontrag interrupted his musings. 'Representatives of their elders from the so-called Voltarian Circle. We may run into them.'

- 'We have weapons, don't worry,' Kier Zoh replied calmly but firmly. 'We'll deal with them somehow if they get too aggressive.'

It was only right to point out here that besides being the King's spy, Zontrag was also the Prince's godfather, which was why the bond between them was so strong. She would not abandon him in the battle for the crown.

They had a tough climb ahead of them. And an even harder descent into the Valley of the Kings of Ugrok Sin - Au Kaktir.

'The hard part, my dear prince, is yet to come,' Zontrag called, 'But we need not seek the support of the wise Archanayans. Though few in number, they would be a strong support in a possible clash with your brother's forces.

They began to slowly climb the foothills of the mountain, the groandus being drowned in foam as they crossed the desert. They definitely needed to find a place to stay for the night and choose a place safe from ambushes.

The Voltarian Circle, as far as I know, is a collection of the dozen or so surviving Archanians at Eclec Zone. They are that ancient. Almost as old as this planet. But their age doesn't show in the slightest. So we must be careful not to anger them.

- 'Are you sure we'll be able to argue?,' asked Kier Zoh.

- I think they want the same thing you want, and much more. Their race is quite near extinction, and they must save themselves singly. Many of them have been captured in the capital of Elohy, Imgradon. They were kidnapped during the last war for Au Kaktir. And they have been slaves ever since.

- 'I have not heard of it,' Kier Zoh admitted quite frankly.

- 'There's no way you have,' Zontrag spoke softly. 'Even among the Guarron it is not spoken of, for great shame and pain and curse have been upon us since that time.'

- 'What has happened?,' asked the prince with interest as they rode.

- This story has become a byword for disgrace - before the last war for Au Kaktir, the archaneans were a flourishing nation, but now they have long lost their power and have nothing to lose. On this day Voltarian, the wisest of the archaneans, has uttered a great oath of eternal peace and the obligatory defence of their nests high in the mountains. But, as is often the case, nothing happens by chance. Governor Elmbaum has captured a dozen of them.

- 'Wait,' the prince interrupted him. 'It's the human chief, isn't it?'

- 'Exactly,' Zontrag encouraged him. 'But he's not human at all. He actually carries our blood as well.'

- 'How is that possible?,' the pretender to the throne gasped.

- 'He has mixed the blood of our slain warriors and their engineers have created what I think they call a life-extending serum.' continued Zontrag. 'He will live much longer than a normal human life. But there is a curse. His skin is constantly peeling and he can't last long in the sun because there's a conflict between our genes and his. I bet the blood of the slain whispers to him, ‘Sneak, come down to us. Then down in the valley of the kings.'

- 'And the archaneans themselves, why him?,' asked Kier Zoh.

- He is, in fact, why he enslaved the Archanaean chieftains, whose healing knowledge alleviated his suffering, since his own scholars could not deal with such an elemental problem. His reasoning is too one-sided. In human terms. But you, Kier Zoh, heir to the throne of Ugrok Sin, have a chance to clear your name of the ancestral curse to inherit the throne through blood if you find the cure for Elmbaum.

- 'Is that really why we set out?,' this time the prince was not surprised in the least.

- 'And not only that,' Zontrag replied amiably, 'the archaneans know all the secrets of this war. They know about its mixed origins too. He can unravel the knot of the conflict. He alone knows some secrets that even they do not.'

- You mean he is the source of all this war on this planet?

- 'You said it,' was the answer across the room.

- 'Is Au Kaktir our final destination?,' the prince continued.

- 'No,' echoed in his ears.

- He will be our final destination. But not before we find Seva's armour.

- 'The last Great Queen of Au Kaktir,' the prince whispered.

- 'We need this ancient artifact to catch him in the act. That way, both humans and archaneans, not least our own race, might live in peace. It will expose its true nature. Gene pairs after mutation are not particularly stable. According to the legends, the armor contains a special ointment designed for each heir to the throne. It interacts with our bodies. Since its not pureblood, there will be a chemical backlash.

Kier Zoh, the bloodthirsty warrior, gaped. He was beginning to believe the ramblings of Tur 'ai San's daughter a lot more. Everything was falling into place. The well was perhaps a metaphor expressing the hidden meaning of something much deeper? But what was at the bottom of it? His mind wandered, but he could not find the answer. And he could sense how vital it was. Much more important even than his duel for the throne!

- 'You know, was she talking about some well or something? Then it appears that my brother is the real traitor?,' he almost roared.

- 'I expected you to think of that, your Highness, long before,' said the spy. 'That is why your brother was preferred, because his conquests will hide the truth of the origin of our race, as your own father hopes!'

- 'And how did he get all this information?,' the prince suddenly realized, wondering how a single individual could be the root cause of everything.

The spy was silent. But his logic was unambiguous. And it did not bode well. Nor any possible future salvation or way out of the conflict.

- 'Was this the legend of Gimlin Orn and Midriel?,' the prince finally asked. 'We are just some appendage of the human race. In fact, we are all no race at all, but are merely the product of an experiment by humans?'

- 'Rather of a well thought out and planned accident. As much as you don't want to believe it humans are not entirely to blame,’ his faithful companion added bluntly.' 'Your father actually came to power, reinforcing this legend and making us believe in it, despite the doubts many had. There were some who still remembered. Though they preferred to forget.'

Kier Zoh felt he was about to learn the most harrowing and terrifying part of the story, and not from the mouth of his fellow scout. He had to wait patiently for the encounter with the Archanayans. If they made it to the top of the mountain at all.

Suddenly a feather, sharp as a steel razor, stuck in front of the paws of the large groandus the prince was riding. But he did not even flinch. In the dusky morning a misty silhouette floated in the sky above them. Circling, it blotted out the sun. It was majestic, like the huge black shadow of a bird spreading its huge wings. There was no doubt that the nests of the Archanayans were nearby!

^^^

- 'How dare you disturb the peace of the pureblood descendants of Voltarian?,' a menacing voice boomed in the heights. 'How dare you come this far, where no human foot is allowed?'

Kier Zoh tried to make a visor over his eyes, using his handful, but he still couldn't make out the features of this huge creature.

- 'You've gone too far, turn back or you will perish!,' the voice boomed again.

- 'We're coming to Voltarian himself,' Zontrag shouted, 'to tell us some things about the war for Au Kaktir.'

- 'Voltarian is long dead. You two have no business here,' the voice muttered, not quite confidently but rather gruffly, apparently implying that the groandus posed a threat to their young.

- I'm sure it isn't. Your race is almost immortal,' Zontrag didn't give in, 'There are a number of changes you'll need to get used to before we get to you.

- 'These things have no place up here, near the nests,' the voice shrieked implacably, then flew away instantly.

- 'Relax, he'll be back,' Zontrag replied calmly. 'He's just going to let the others know. I think we'll make it, even if we have to dump the groandus here already. If they come back, all the better, our people will think we're dead or lost. A guarron never leaves his groandus while he is alive. That way we'll buy some extra time before Tur 'ai San's daughter brings them too close.'

The mountain was shrouded in a mist that was almost impenetrable. So thick that the groands were pulling back and biting the air. They had to get rid of them as quickly as possible or they could seriously hurt the rampaging animals as the monstrous creatures threatened to throw their riders off. Whatever Zontrag was saying, the prince was even more on guard than before. Everything was going according to plan. For now.

They waited a while, but no one returned. Then, suddenly, there was a flutter of wings. A whole flock of archaneans swooped down on our hapless adventurers, striking them with their wings. Kier Zoh thought about pulling out his laser cutter and stabbing the nearest of the creatures, but suddenly gave up. He judged that the odds were not on their side, mostly because they were about a dozen of them, and only if they had asked could he have instantly driven his hard-as-steel feathers into their flesh. After taking a solid amount of beating from their hosts, a voice that sounded like a hoarse wheeze said:

- Stop! They can be trusted! Let them pass on!

They saw no silhouette or face. Then suddenly the group of man-like birds flew away and hid in the thick fog.

There were scars and bruises on both of their faces. The prince's regal bearing no longer looked so dignified. He would even wager that he had some other broken rib as well. He took a deep breath and the sharp pain that passed through his chest just showed that these were just bruises. Still, they both needed a few seconds to compose themselves. They were in no position to resist, for Kier Zoh wanted to win the Archanayans as allies and reclaim his crown.

- 'Now we can go higher up,' Zontrag suggested.

The Misty Mountains did not bear that name for nothing. The passage upwards was becoming more and more difficult. They could not see more than two feet in front of their noses. Their feet picked off occasional rocks as they searched for more stable footing as they climbed. Sweat poured from her brow, but still, they relentlessly continued.

The ancient slopes of the Misty Mountains housed this race, of which so little was known, but which was renowned for its healing powers. They were once the dominant race on the planet. This was long before the Guarron had even appeared. This was known even to Kier Zoh.

They were entering unknown territory. The Sipei below were monstrous. You could have been dizzy. He and Zontrag strained the last of their strength, but this climb seemed endless.

Somehow, though, Kier Zoh felt inwardly that something might be wrong. He knew he was on the right track, but he feared change. He anticipated it with suspense. With each successive cliff they jumped over, or loose boulder that came their way, he felt that perhaps his seeming desire to claim the throne was merely a pretext to know and achieve something far greater, beyond his own understanding. But what? Zontrag breathlessly followed his