Korian: Ark of the Fallen King (The Korian Epic Fantasy Adventure Series Book 2) by Giorgio Garofalo

Author:Giorgio Garofalo [Garofalo, Giorgio]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781999020934
Publisher: Published by Giorgio Garofalo
Published: 2022-04-24T16:00:00+00:00

24

THE THRONE ROOM

OREN EMERGED INTO a spacious, dark, high-ceilinged chamber. Korian and the others followed. The Huntsman’s stones splashed light onto the vestiges of the endless room.

It was long and narrow and skeletal, like the Entrance Hall. A few crumbled sections of the ceiling and some disintegrated sections of guardrails were scattered about the floor.

At the front, atop a two-step platform, sat the throne. Its high back, carved from Aveena wood, was intact and imposing. Behind the platform, were two wide circular stone pillars, ten feet apart, that supported a balcony. It resembled an extravagant loft that ran across the front and sides of the room.

Oren stepped onto the platform. The others gathered around him. Dense, silky webs and thick layers of dust had claimed the dark wooden surface of the throne. Under the light of Doric’s stones, the webs glistened eerily.

Oren paused, examining the relic closely and said, “I never once used it, you know…It was a gift from Adam…but I could never bring myself to sit on it. Think about it,” he said, “Think about what it stands for: worship and hierarchy. What I did for my people…I did, expecting nothing in return.”

“Really, Oren?” said Korian. “That’s what you brought us here for? Tell us more of your history, and your thoughts on inequities, later. For now…how ’bout showing us the way out?”

Oren leaned forward and placed his hands on the armrest. Lowering his head, he locked his knees and shoved. His squeal echoed throughout the chamber, but nothing happened.

It took a few seconds for Gred and the others to realize what Oren was doing. Oren tried a second time, but Gred grunted, stepped forward, and shoved Oren aside. He grasped the chair with one hand and tugged. The throne held. He tried a second time, putting his weight into it. The dust-covered regal chair and a part of the platform floor were torn from the ground. The throne shattered in Gred’s hand. A square-shaped hole beneath the throne greeted them. Debris and splinters began to slide into it with a whisper.

Doric lowered his hand into the hole. The light illuminated an eight-foot drop to the ground below, tall enough for a man to stand in, and a tunnel, about seven-feet wide, leading into darkness.

Loud shrieks suddenly swept in from the windows, growing in pitch and duration until the shrill sounds seemed to shake the walls. Rubble and sand began to slide down in a steady hiss. The floor beneath their feet seemed to tremble.

“They move the ground!” Zohar cried. “How many of them are there?”

Gred untied the log that was slung across his back. It fell onto the floor with a thud. Some of Zohar’s mysterious mixture trickled out from one end. A pungent and sweet-smelling odor filled the room. Some spread under the splintered remains of the throne. Some dripped into the hole, forming a small puddle at its base.

Gred quickly wrapped his hand around Tana and lowered her into the hole.

He reached for Zohar.

“Wait!” Zohar shouted.

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