Wayward & Onwards

Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom, Chapter 30

Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom is a serialised, young adult, fantasy novel about an overconfident bookworm who finds himself in a parallel world where words are weapons, ideologies form fortresses, and intelligence without integrity may just cost you everything. If you’re new here, you can start from the beginning or check out the index.

RECAP: Keon tells Zahara the truth about his dad and about his fight with Gabriel Reid. That his dad is dying of cancer and that he beat Gabriel Reid senseless for dishonouring him. What no one anticipates is Zahara’s reaction. Realising that Wellworn isn’t going to save the life of Keon’s dad, just like he wouldn’t get rid of hers, she renounces the King and rips the Torchbearer seal off her shawl, becoming a Wayfinder.

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Keon watched the King’s insignia waft to the ground, its vibrant colours fading fast. As the tips of its fibres grazed the grass, all sound ceased. Keon hadn’t even noticed the breeze rustling through the trees. The ensuing silence was deafening. Each outward breath was like hissing down his own ear.

Zahara stood staring at the insignia, her shoulders heaving with ragged, shrill gasps. Avana glanced from her to Wellworn, wide-eyed dread filling her face. He was grim and unmoving, his gaze fixed on Zahara. Dawit and Kai shuffled on the spot like they could or should do something but dared not. Shem shook his head, his chin falling to his chest. And Jonas—Jonas had dropped to his knees, his fist pounding the ground.

“Zahara Karmarian,” said Wellworn, his voice heavy but resolute. “If it is evil in your sight to serve the King…choose this day whom you will serve.”

His words seemed to carry, ricocheting through the trees and out over the vast wilds of Underland. The branches were buffeted. Leaves blew in the breeze. For a moment, nothing stirred, the air groaning with the weight of expectation. Then, Zahara shook her head and raised her bloodshot eyes to meet Wellworn’s coffee blacks.

“I can’t. I can’t just sit here and watch you do this to him,” she said, sniffing. “So, I’ll serve no one.”

Keon’s arms, his legs. Everything felt heavy, like he’d been shackled to titanic weights that threatened to pull him underground. His throat grew dry as oven baked clay.

“Shem. Avana,” said Wellworn. “Deliver her to the island’s edge.”

“Wait, what?” said Keon.

Zahara’s eyes widened, her mouth gaping.

Shem and Avana took steps towards her, and Keon jumped in front of them.

“Guys, come on!”

“She’s renounced the King, mate,” said Shem. “There’s no place for her here anymore.”

“Wait!” Keon interjected, “You can’t do this!”

“We don’t want to…” said Avana.

Keon swallowed, thoughts racing as they passed him.

“But you’re gonna do it anyway?” he replied.

Avana stopped and closed her eyes, opening them to look deep in his. She didn’t need to say it. He already knew.

Zahara’s field of vision ping-ponged between Shem and Avana as they drew nearer. She backed off a few paces, palms raised to stave them off.

“I don’t wanna fight you,” she said.

“There doesn’t have to be a fight, sweet’art.”

“Besides, you couldn’t fight us now even if you tried,” said Avana, her tone steel; big brown eyes narrow with rage. “What will you Forge with? His words won’t work for you anymore.”

“Avana…” Zahara breathed, imploring.

“NO!… You don’t get to—” the words caught in her throat, her voice cracking. “You don’t get to have it both ways!”

Zahara’s eyes flitted in thought as she licked her lips.

“So, what…you saying we can’t be friends?”

“WE WERE MORE THAN FRIENDS!” Avana howled, yanking on her shawl, the Torchbearer seal bound in her fist. She shut her eyes tight to the burning tears. “We were family! You’re betraying our family!”

“He betrayed me!” Zahara shrieked, fingers jabbing at Wellworn for emphasis. “Like, are you mad?! Are you sick in the head?! He could’ve stopped it, and he never did! Never! Not even once! So, either he doesn’t care…or he isn’t who he says he is!”

Shem’s fist clenched, the other reaching for the harness.

“Keon,” Zahara said, turning to him. His chin shot up, eyes alert. “You can come with me. You never really believed all this anyway.”

His chest screamed, clawing for her with every fibre of his being. Then, it was like a hand clamped around his heart and squeezed. His gaze fell.

“He won’t help you,” she continued. “These lot can’t help you…but I will,” she held her hand out to his. “We’ll find a way. We’ll figure it out together. Just come with me.”

Keon blinked back the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, closing the mouth that had hung wide open.

“You sound just like them…” he muttered. Her brow flinched in incomprehension. “The Mysts…my Mirror…Aslan…you sound just like them.”

Asya cupped her hands over her mouth. Jonas raised his head, eyes bulging.

“So, I c—,” Keon shook his head. “I’m not goin’ with you.”

The weight of his words seemed to drag Zahara’s countenance to the ground. Her outstretched hand teetered and began to lower.

“But I don’t want you to go, Zahara…don’t go! Let’s just talk! You’re right, we can—we can figure things out, just come and let’s talk…”

She heaved a stuttered, silent cry, shaking her head. In that moment, Shem grabbed for her arm. Zahara twisted it around Shem’s to deflect it, then yanked his harness. The satchel swung out, throwing him off balance. She wound the straps around his hand, ducked beneath his arm, and shoved him towards Avana. They stumbled backwards, Avana pushing him aside like a heavy coat that had fallen out of an old closet.

Zahara was fast. She’d already forged a curved, origami falchion. Avana slid her palm-leaf manuscript out of its sheath. Flicking her wrist, the manuscript blew into a long staff.

“This isn’t going to end how you think,” said Avana, circling her.

Zahara looked jumpy, her eyes wide with apprehension. She’d never fought Avana before—not like this.

Avana swung the staff overhead. Zahara blocked. Another swing. A parry. Each blow splintered the sword, fragments of paper shearing off at random angles. With a whip, Avana spread the manuscript out like a huge fan, tall from her tip to her toes. She swung it, unleashing a torrent of wind that rolled into Zahara. Zahara yelped as the wall of rushing air spun her backwards, heels-over-head. She twisted in mid-air to orient her landing as Avana twirled the staff and brought it swinging at her side. Zahara angled the sword down, but the strike almost spun her into a one-eighty. She stumbled, her sword arm drooping.

“Are you done?” yelled Avana. “You gonna come quietly?”

Zahara’s shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths. Her grip tightened on the hilt, and she raised her chin so that her eyes met Avana’s. She shook her head.

Avana roared, and raised the staff, raining successive blows down on Zahara. Again and again, the staff throttled the blade, driving Zahara to one knee.

“Avana!” yelled Wellworn.

“Yo! Avana, stop!” said Kai.

Nothing worked to avert her. Strike upon strike descended, each one punctuated by cries of anguish. Heaving the staff high, she brought it crashing down one last time. Zahara’s blade shattered into a hundred pieces, knocking her to the ground. Avana collapsed to her knees, dropping the manuscript.

Zahara cradled her quivering wrist as the hilt slipped from her hand. Keon went to move towards her but stopped. Something was wrong. The eyes of the Millionth and Fifth weren’t on Avana and Zahara. They were beholden to the sword fragments wafting through the air; hundreds of them sailing the currents around them, darkening, as though held over a candle. Some unseen force pulled them towards one another, gathering them into clumps.

“Aw hell…,” said Shem.

“Avana, what did you do?” asked Kai.

“I warned you,” Zahara gasped, rising to her knees. “I didn’t wanna fight.”

The clumps grew dense, solidifying into coal-like boulders until gravity pulled them down. As they fell, they split like cracked eggs, black limbs popping and contorting out of the mounds. Mangled members and spines snapped into place. Wisps of ash began to coalesce like flesh onto bones. First came armoured boots, then gauntlets, then breastplates. Finally, dark, jagged helms and, smoky, vaporous regalia rippling like tongues of black flame.

“Oh no,” Keon breathed.

“You should’ve just let me go,” said Zahara.

A wad of burning paper rolled into the midst of the group. Keon’s eyes grew wide. He flung his shawl around Asya as the paper ball exploded in a thick ring of choking black smoke, blowing the Millionth and Fifth off their feet.

Everything went black. Keon tumbled through the air; all sense of direction stripped away. His shoulders hit the grass and he rolled several metres. Sliding to a stop, his ears rang with a high-pitched whine. Had the blast blinded him, or was it the smoke? He clawed at the grass, crawling in search of anyone who could be nearby.

“Asya!”

He’d tried to shield her as best he could, but the blast had blown them apart. He coughed. Putrid, burning ash knifed its way down his throat. Everything seemed muffled and blurred. Blackened and dark. Then he felt a body. An arm. Bell sleeves wrapped around smooth skin, and a hand that gripped his. He pushed himself up, pulling her close to rest on his lap. Looking her over, there were no obvious injuries, but she appeared dazed and winded.

“You ok? You…”

Asya nodded, her eyes barely open.

Then he heard it. The clinking of metallic boots. The grating of armour. The slink of metal scraping against jagged sheaths. Keon raised his head to look over his shoulder, and an army of cold, dead eyes robbed of their pupils met his gaze.

A ring of swords surrounded them, raised, ready to run them through. Then a roar tore through the torrent. Twin swords sliced the midriffs of several Mynds and Jonas skidded through the falling ash. Wellworn followed close behind him, swinging the longest, gleaming broadsword Keon had ever seen. Catching the light from Zaphon, it seemed to ignite the air around it, tearing through Mynds as a hot knife through butter. Ash exploded all around them as Keon cradled Asya.

Jonas came sliding to a stop before them.

“Keon?” he said. Not signed but said.

“Jonas?!”

He yanked on the mask, pulling it down.

“MR KERSEY?!”

Jonas rolled his eyes with a nod.

“Aye!”

“What the…WHAT THE F…!”

“Listen tae me! Ah need ye t’get up, can ye do that fer me?”

“NOT RIGHT NOW! HOW-THE-HELL-ARE-YOU-HERE?”

Jonas buried his head in his palms, clawing his face in impatience.

“Ah’ve bin here th’whole time!”

“NOOOO!”

“Aye!”

“Do you even know real sign language?!”

“What d’ye want, mah bloody certificate? We need t’get her t’safety,” he said, nodding to Asya, “An’ we need t’get after Zahara. Thurs still time t’stop her, but only if we hurry!”

Keon blinked in comprehension, then nodded in haste.

“Alright…alright!”

Jonas took hold of Asya’s legs.

“Support her head. Come on.”

“I can…I can walk…I can fight,” she murmured.

“An’ that’s pure admirable, lassie, but ye might have skelp yer head there. Let us help ye.”

“Wait…you’re talking…how hard did I hit my head?”

Keon turned his head, trying to catch Wellworn as they shuffled from side to side with Asya—his mouth popped open.

Wellworn’s skin had turned a burnished bronze, every scar on his flesh alight like white-hot veins. His eyes were aglow like burning vapour. A cloak of flaming fire enshrouded his shoulders with a blazing lion’s mane hood at its tip. Whirlwinds of golden plasma spiralled above his head like a crown. He would swing his arms, drawing a fresh blade out of thin air with each strike. The blade would vanish, and he’d draw another, each one perfectly suited for purpose. Short-swords for close quarters, broad-swords for wide sweeps. Forging without a Codex. He was like a volcanic eruption pouring through thick clouds of ash. The flash of his blade cracked like lightning arching across the sky. The ground seemed to splinter and explode at his every step, only to reconstitute itself in his wake. He flashed around them, carving a path towards the line of trees behind the stone oven. He turned, almost in slow motion, to check them over, and the light-show ceased. Had Keon imagined the whole thing?

Shem’s side hit the ground, his blade clattering out of his hand. A cocky Mynd approached, swinging a gigantic, blackened flail, it’s muscular back hunched over by protruding rocks. He’d never fought ones like this before. So strong and aggressive. He rolled over, the flail ploughing into the ground where his head was but a moment before. Glancing through the smoke to his left, he spied Avana. She was on her knees, unmoving; staring at her Codex on the grass—and six more Mynds were stalking towards her.

“AVANA!”

The Mynd wrenched the flail from the ground as Shem forged a shield. He tore a strip off the side, formed it into a spear, and charged head on at the dark warrior. It swung the flail above its head as Shem slid beneath its arms. Spinning with the momentum, it brought the flail crashing into his shield. The blow spiralled him into a tangled somersault, dropping him on the shield, his side exposed. He rolled off the shield, the flail smashing through it a split-second later.

The Mynds were almost on Avana!

He kicked the spear up, balanced it across his shoulders and ducked beneath the next swing of the flail. Spinning on his heel, he swung the spear in a wide arc. It sliced the exposed calf of the Mynd, staggering it. Dashing forward he dove with a roar, driving the shaft through its back and into the ground.

There was no time to lose. He grabbed the battered shield, complete with hole in the middle, and wrenched the spear out of the ground. Angling the spear through the hole, he ran full tilt at the six Mynds. He collided with the first three, thrusting the spear through the one in the middle. Tearing a strip off the narrow side of the shield, he plunged the shard deep into the neck of the Mynd on his right. Shoving to his left, he pushed the other back and retrieved his spear from the pile of ash on the ground. He leapt and lunged spear-first into the next Mynd.

Avana flinched as a coal-black body landed in a heap beside her. Its body dried, flaked, and disintegrated on the wind. She watched the fragments dance on the air, her gaze sweeping across her shoulder. There, Shem stood as a mighty wall between her and the Mynds. He struck left, parried right, jabbed forth. Duty urged her to help him, but her arms refused to move. She turned away, jamming her eyes shut. After a moment, the clamour ceased and she opened them again. Shem stood huffing beside her, leaning on the spear, and shaking his head.

“You i—”

“Don’t say it!” she snapped, holding up a finger.

He swallowed.

“You alright?”

He extended a hand. She looked at it, then back at him. He inched it further and she placed her hand in his. Once on her feet, she snatched it away.

“I would’ve done the same thing,” he blurted out, raising his eyes to hers. “If it was any of these lot…I would’ve done the same thing.”

She blinked, a slight grin twitching at the corner of her mouth.

“Well…that would have made you an idiot, wouldn’t it?”

He nodded silently; mouth shut.

“Yeah…it would ‘ave.”

She retrieved her manuscript from the grass and slid it back into its sheath.

“Ready?” she said.

“Nah.”

He pulled her, hand on the small of her back, and locked her lips to his. When he pulled away, her eyes snapped open, darting across his face.

“Life’s too short,” he said. “Come on.”

Yanking the spear from the ground he ran towards the next line of Mynds. Avana stood frozen, blinking in haste, then followed.

Kai and Dawit were back-to-back, Kai holding a pole arm, Dawit brandishing a shotel. A lone Mynd braved a step forward and lost its head in response. A second moved to Kai, only to receive a butt to the chin and a blade through its abdomen. The rest circled around them, jostling as though arguing over who should strike next.

“This is so long,” said Kai.

“Brother, not now. Have your existential crisis later!”

“Can you blame me? Did you see what just happened?”

Dawit bit his bottom lip, head shaking.

“We should’ve known something was wrong. We should’ve done more…”

“Like what? Did you forget her gift?” said Kai.

Dawit’s eyes narrowed.

“Hospitality?” he replied, befuddled.

“Right. She can put you at ease. Render any threat invisible.”

“You only see what you wanna see…” Dawit murmured.

“Exactly. Which means she can hide things…from all of us.”

“Well…not all of us,” said Dawit, nodding ahead.

Kai turned to see Wellworn sweeping through the line of Mynds. The two glanced at each other, grinned and charged forth screaming into the sky.

Jonas’ presence had already worked wonders on Asya. She sat leaning against a tree, massaging the back of her neck. Elsewhere, the Millionth and Fifth, with Wellworn at their head, were tearing through the army of Mynds. Keon shook his head in wonder. This was so unreal.

He knelt down before Asya, offering a canteen of water.

“How you feelin’?” he said.

She sniffed at her arms, receiving the canteen with gratitude.

“I smell like a Shisha bar.”

Keon huffed a chuckle.

“So, are we gonna do this?” she asked.

“Asya, you don’t have to…” Keon began.

“You’ve helped me,” she said, placing a hand on his. “Let me help you.”

He smirked.

“I thought we were even?”

She glanced down in thought.

“Then, let me help her.”

Keon smiled, relief flooding his cheeks.

“How’re we even gonna find her, Jonas?” he said, looking up at the masked warrior. He was adjusting his bracers, testing the straps on his harness.

“She wilnae gone far. She’ll be lookin’ fur water.”

“Why water?” asked Asya, rising to her feet.

“Ye remember how Keon got lost?” he said, turning to her.

She nodded, silent. Keon swallowed at the memory with dread.

“When a sheep wanders off, ye dinnae want them t’stray too far. Take her t’the island’s edge, an’ we kin keep track of her…but if she leaves another way…there’s nae tellin’ where she’ll end up.”

“You sayin’ she’s gonna use her Mirror to escape?” said Keon. “She can do that?”

“But…she’s joined to her Mirror, right? Keon’s was separate,” added Asya.

“Aye. But th’ principle still holds true…it’d be like…jumping oot o’ window intae th’ dark.”

Keon and Asya exchanged looks.

“If we let it take ‘er, she’s as good as gone.”

The water stood still like a solid pane of glass. Deep in the reflection, all looked normal. She was high above the clouds. Above it all. The ocean far below. In that world, she was flying. In that world, she was safe.

“Zahara!”

She turned at the voice she didn’t recognise, and frowned at the faces she knew. Jonas, Keon and Asya broke through the treeline, stopping near the edge of the water.

“Is this a joke,” she scoffed. “You brought her here?”

Keon shuddered at the wide pool fed by a trickling stream that ran down the adjacent hill. The same one he’d been dragged into by his Mirror.

“They didn’t bring me,” said Asya. “I chose to come.”

“For what?” Zahara snapped.

“To show you you’re not my enemy.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered…” she said, fingering her harness.

“Zahara,” said Jonas, stepping forward.

Her lip quivered as glistening eyes turned to him, her brow breaking.

“You can talk, Jonas?” she croaked.

He nodded, solemn.

“Aye.”

A wretched gasp escaped her throat, her hand hovering over her mouth. She turned away, shoulders shaking, then turned back.

“Are you serious?” she said, flapping her arms, incredulous. “Do you know you’re the only other man I ever trusted? And you’ve been lying to me this whole time!”

Jonas exhaled, wincing at her words.

“I had orders, lassie.”

“What, he told you to lie to me?”

“He told me nae tae speak. There’s a difference.”

She scoffed, eyes to the sky, pacing back and forth.

“Why? For what purpose?” she shrugged.

“It wasn’t mah stead tae ask. All ah know is, from th’ moment ah got here, he said mah tongue was his… that ah wasn’t tae speak til th’ day he released it. An’ in all those years, only twice ‘ave ah bin permitted tae speak. Both times fur yer sake! Do ye know what that means, lassie? It means ye matter. Ye matter tae him. Ye matter tae me! Seal on yer back or nae!”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Ahm nae expecting anythin’, lassie. A’m asking ye t’trust me,” he said, holding out a hand.

She looked at it for the longest time, considering.

“He won’t want me back,” she whispered.

“He will, lassie. He…”

“And even if he did, I wouldn’t go. I can’t.”

She turned back to the pool of water, gaping at her reflection.

“Zahara,” said Keon.

His voice seemed to salve whatever wound she was feeling because when she turned around, her eyes were wide but softened.

“Listen, when I came here…I was mad at everything. I was confused…the one thing that made sense of any of this…that convinced me I wasn’t going crazy, was you. Wellworn may have called me here and my dad may have freed my Mirror…but you helped me see…like…there was something about this place. That I was part of something bigger than me. That maybe there was a purpose behind all the madness I was going through.”

Her eyes fell in contemplation.

“I dunno what happened to you, Zahara. I don’t…but you told me you wanted to get away. That Wellworn saved you…what did he save you from Zahara?”

She breathed in deep and exhaled. The warmth seemed to return to her face; her tears drying on her cheeks.

“From myself,” she murmured.

The tension Keon had been carrying hissed through his nostrils. His shoulders relaxed.

“But that’s just it, Keon…I thought he had…I thought he would…”

Her eyes snapped to meet his, cold and unruly.

“…but he didn’t…he didn’t save me…and he won’t save your dad. You’re the one that’s helped me see that.”

Keon blinked, the corners of his eyes moistening.

“He said the King cares for us. That we’re precious to him,” she said, glancing at Jonas. “Well, you’re precious to me, Keon…and I’d do anything I could to help your dad!”

Keon stared at the grass; every wind he’d had in his sails stolen.

“But you can still try, Keon,” she said, sniffing. “Even if he won’t, there’s still a chance you can save him.”

Keon swallowed, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“I wish that was true,” he whispered. “But I don’t think there is, Zahara.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said, wistful. “I’ve been thinking about it…the whole time I’ve been standing here.”

Jonas’ eyes narrowed, his hand hovering over his harness.

“If Underland has no king…then, anything’s possible.”

She turned back to the waters, her two long strands of golden hair disappearing in front of her chest, bordering the enflamed red tips that hung above her hood. Her hand closed around the gold pendant. She glanced down at it, then back at Keon.

“And whatever’s out there for me…I’m gonna find it,” she said. “I’ll see you round, Keon.”

Then the water came alive.

Her reflection erupted from the pool, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into the depths.

“NO!” Jonas yelled, racing to the water’s edge.

But the pool was empty.

She was gone.

---

I’d meant to post this at the end of the last chapter but completely forgot. I would love to hear from you, my dear alpha readers, about these last few twists.

Did you see Zahara’s turn coming?

Was it a shock to learn the truth about Keon’s dad?

Drop a comment below and let me know!