The Crown of Ashes and Blood

Part XXII Surprise

Despite the imminent danger my father’s pace didn’t waver. His back remained straight, his expression unreadable, with no sign of whether I had done the right thing or not. I couldn’t read him. I wasn’t sure I ever could. Our relationship was so strained.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on it.

We reached the heavy doors leading into the citadel’s main chamber, where Kaspar was being held. The doors loomed before us like a dark promise. My father paused for only a moment, then pushed the doors open with a single swift motion. The room beyond was lit by flickering torches, their flames casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. The scent of old stone filled my nostrils, but it wasn’t the scent that struck me, it was the sight.

King Kaspar chained to a pillar in the center of the room. His once-proud form was hunched, and his eyes swollen from being beaten. He looked so different from the Ka’narian I remembered; a king broken by Kreplar.

He looked up slowly as we entered, his lips parted slightly, like he was going to speak, but before he could, Kavi ran to his side pulling at the chains.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Kavi said trying to pick the locks, “Do they have the crown?”

Kaspar’s brow furrowed, “You’re too late,” he said, his voice breaking.

I stepped forward, blade in hand, my eyes scanning the darkened room. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. That something was coming.

But then I heard it. The unmistakable scrape of claws on stone. I whirled to face the door.

I didn’t need to look at my father to know he heard the same thing. His jaw tightened. “Stay close,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

Before we could regroup the doors swung open fully, revealing Kreplar and his cronies. They poured in, like shadows, but there was something worse, a familiar figure among them, tall, imposing. It was Specter.

Specter’s lips curled into a smile of sinister delight. “How glorious to run into you two again. You thought you could just dispose of me so easily. Thankfully, my new friend Kreplar saw my potential and had me join his forces.”

“Only Kreplar’s poor judgment could see any use in you,” I snapped.

“I see your wounds have healed, but you’re still weak.” Specter pulled out a new holo-whip with three tails. It hummed eagerly in his clawed hand, beckoning to strike multiple targets at once.

Father’s stance shifted. He stepped in front of me, his blade already in hand. “I’m not here to deal with one of Kreplar’s belly-crawling minions. I’m here for him.” he said pointing at Kreplar.

“No,” Specter replied coldly. “You’re here for him.” He gestured toward Kaspar. “And for what? I can tell by your ridiculous robes that you’re Kazaki. Why don’t you go back to the jungle and hug a tree?” Specter laughed at his own insult.

My father didn’t flinch. His eyes were steel. “Ka’nar hasn’t fallen yet. And it won’t, as long as I’m breathing.”

Specter chuckled. “Well, killing an old Kazaki should be no challenge.”

Before anything more could be said, Kreplar closed in toward my father. “You are outmatched, Crasess. I’ll give you one chance to surrender for old times’ sake. Otherwise, you can be buried next to Klatu.”

I’d heard my father talk about Klatu, his best friend from his youth, and how he had gone missing while hunting for dustcrawler pelts. It seemed Kreplar was responsible for his death—or at least pretending to be, to goad my father.

My father bared his teeth. “Get the king!” he commanded, his eyes locking with mine. He slashed his claws into Kreplar’s belly, catching him by surprise.

I didn’t think. I just moved.

My feet carried me toward Kaspar as my blade sliced through the air, cleaving the chains on the pillar. A Shalvasan lunged at me, but I ducked and twisted, my blade finding his exposed side. “Come on, break!” My voice was tight with urgency. I swung again, slicing through the chains. The metal clanged as they burst apart, and I freed him from his restraints.

Kaspar’s breath hitched as the last chain fell to the ground. He was weak, but he pushed himself up, his eyes flickering with something close to hope. Kavi handed him a blade. “We can win this,” he said, his optimism false.

“Let’s move,” I urged, but Specter was already striding toward us, his triple holo-whip in hand, a twisted smirk still playing at the edges of his mouth.

“You think you can escape me?” he asked. “Well, you won’t. Not this time.”

My father and Kreplar clashed at the center of the room. Specter was closing in on us. The rest of the cronies stood at the edges, chanting and waiting for their orders to intervene.

Next- Part XXIII The Bell Tolls