Fall of a Kingdom

by Michael Greenfield

  “Ah, yes my Lord. All routes out of the palace were guarded. No one passed through them that could not be accounted for, the two fugitives were not amongst them.”

  “Yet you claim that they are not within the palace grounds any more. That would suggest that you are lying to us. Either they passed your guards and have escaped, or they are still within the palace, which is it?” Cor’dell stepped forward of the seated Chancellor as he spoke. “Perhaps you require some incentive to find the right answer.”

  The captain was suddenly wreathed in fire as Cor’dell held his hand out toward him. The searing nature of the pain caused him to scream in agony, but no sound would come out of his mouth. Though he could feel the heat and the pain, even the sensation of his skin blistering under the intense heat he was subjected to, neither his clothing nor the carpets he stood upon showed the slightest sign of the inferno. When the pain stopped after a few moments he found that his skin was totally undamaged as well.

  He collapsed to the floor gasping for breath, Cor’dell stalking toward where he knelt.

  “Have you reconsidered your answers?”

  “My Lord,” the captain gasped as he fought to regain his breath, “I have told the truth, none of my men saw them leave and everyone that did has been accounted for.

  The search of the grounds began as soon as you notified us and was completed first, whilst it was still light, before we moved into the palace buildings themselves, having posted guards on the exits again to ensure they didn’t slip past us.”

  “Captain, you imply that they have used magic to escape. I would have felt any magic that powerful in a moment, are you implying also that I am incompetent?”

  “No my Lord,” the unfortunate captain’s eyes were wild with fear as realisation dawned that no matter what he now said, he was going to be blamed for the escape, “I would never question…”

  Cor’dell gestured with his hand again, stepping off the dais and closer to the trembling figure, and the flames returned. This time the intensity did not diminish.

  Baridon watched with morbid fascination for nearly a minute before the agony and fear combined to stop the heart of the soldier. The body collapsed to the ground.

  The silence that followed seemed to stretch before he spoke. ”I’d say that he was probably telling the truth.”

  Myerscough shuffled forward, as if to gain a better view of the body, though the vacant look in his eyes made it clear to the others that he saw none of what had happened in the room.

  A hollow, lifeless voice spoke. “That they appear to have used magic is no longer in question. That they used it and escaped our detection is something that we must think on.”

  Myerscough turned to Cor’dell. “What do we know of this Astridson?”

  Cor’dell stepped briskly back to the dais. “He has served with the army for seven years, well thought of and a capable soldier. He came to the palace just under a year ago from one of the northern garrisons to attend the staff college here ready for promotion to major and the assignment of his own garrison.”

  “Do we know his lineage?”

  “I am having that examined as we speak. The information should be with us within the next day or so.”

  “What are the chances that they still head northward?”

  “I saw the lieutenant in combat in Boraan and again here, in the training ground. It would appear he is one of the honourable types, which would also mean that there is a strong possibility that he will continue northward in some desperate hope that he can rescue their queen.”

  The voice that issued from Myerscough fell silent. After several seconds Cor’dell was about to assume that the presence it represented had left the body of the Chancellor’s aide when it spoke again.

  “Take a force north. Head for the high passes northeast of Saldar and make sure that they are not allowed to reach the road to Churek.”

  “As my Lords command.” Cor’dell bowed slightly before he saw that Myerscough had returned to normality. Turning his attention back to Baridon he continued, “I’ll organise a company and lead them to the passes, you make sure that nothing else can cause problems here.”

  If Baridon took any offence from Cor’dell’s ordering him he showed none of it. Myerscough had returned to his position at the back of the dais and awaited his own instructions, displaying no sign that he was even aware of the fact that he had not been in command of his own body during the previous few minutes.

  Cor’dell studied them briefly before spinning about abruptly and heading for the door.

  Baridon stood and turned toward Myerscough. “Get rid of the captain!” As soon as Myerscough started forward Baridon stalked off toward the exit toward the rear of the room that led directly to the corridors of the palace’s private quarters.

  Cor’dell stormed into the officers building with a look upon his face that left a trail of worried soldiers in his wake. The man he was after was sat on his own at a table in the mess area, blatantly being ignored by fellow officers.

  Jerome Raldon was a bully and knew it. He had started as a city guardsman, a job that had suited his temperament as for the most part he had been used to break up brawls, something that didn’t require the greatest of finesse. Baridon had first heard of him several years before, during an appeal by a wealthy merchant whose son had been beaten near to death during the clearing of one such brawl.

  Realising that such a man could prove useful at some stage, Baridon had ruled that the merchant’s son should not have been where he was at the time and that Raldon had only been carrying out his duties. Shortly thereafter Raldon had found himself with a commission in the army and a comfortable lifestyle only interrupted occasionally when the Chancellor had something that required his particular skills to sort out.

  It was the kind of arrangement that suited the ruffian perfectly, though recently he had been called upon to carry out the Chancellor’s wishes on a much more regular basis.

  The appearance of Cor’dell in the mess room did not surprise him, as he had heard about the commotion that afternoon, and the fact that two fugitives had escaped, possibly aided by one of their own, though he was surprised when Cor’dell walked straight to the table that he was sat at.

  “Cor’dell,” he inclined his head slightly.

  “Raldon. The Chancellor and I have some work for you.”

  Raldon didn’t hesitate to leave his meal and stand ready to follow, he had also learnt long before that the Chancellor did not understand delays when he wanted something doing.

  “Gather ten men that you can trust to follow orders and not balk at whatever those orders might be. Meet me at the north gate in one hour where you’ll find horses and provisions ready.”

  “As you wish. How far north will we be heading?”

  “As far as I see fit!” The reply was abrupt and intended to end the conversation, though Raldon ignored it. Bully and a ruffian he might be, but that didn’t mean he was stupid.

  “If we head for Saldar and the job you wish doing is in the city, then I know ten men that I can trust. If we head for the mountains, then I know ten other men that will be a far better choice.”

  Cor’dell cursed himself for not thinking that one through. “Bring your mountain men.” He offered no acknowledgement at the fact that he should have of thought of that factor, not that Raldon expected any.

  He spun on his heels and headed back out of the mess to prepare the mounts and provisions that they would need. Not that he really needed to worry that much about them, as Raldon and the others were just the cover needed to maintain the co-operation of Baridon. As the thought crossed his mind a rueful smile crossed his lips. What he wouldn’t give to be the one that delivered the news to that pompous ass that he wasn’t the mighty ally he thought he was, rather a pawn with little comprehension of his place in the scheme of things.

  An hour later Cor’dell surveyed the group of men that Raldon had brought together for him. To a man they looked as if they should be in prison doi
ng hard time, bandits and cutthroats to a man if he was any judge of character. Undoubtedly childhood friends of the vulgar officer who led them.

  He directed them to the mounts that awaited them and quickly gave the order to climb onto the skittish horses. He had chosen ones that he knew to have good endurance as he had no doubt that they would have to push hard to catch up with their prey. Once they finally located those that they sought, it would prove simple to use Raldon and the others as bait whilst he organised for his own forces to spring the trap.

  Baridon sat quietly in his own room as he pondered the events of the day. He might not have said anything outright, but it was obvious that Cor’dell had been disturbed by what had happened. As he sat there he ran through what had happened.

  The capture of the two Boraan emissaries and the dwarf had been easy enough, but for some reason the young Lieutenant and his lady had proven elusive, perhaps to the point that he doubted Cor’dell would detain them anytime soon.

  He didn’t need to await the reports from Cor’dell’s contacts as to the history of the captain that appeared to have aided them either. He knew Astridson’s personal history well.

  Astrid was actually his mother’s name, not his fathers as was normal for northerners. His father was allegedly a Lighter, thus explaining the blonde hair that marked him as something different for that part of the world.

  An exceptional swordsman and tactician, he had been one of the brighter lights amongst the current officer corps. He would be sorely missed in the months to come, but at least they knew now whether or not he could be trusted.

  A figure moved into the periphery of his vision.

  “Eshek?”

  “Yes.”

  Separate Paths

  Cal awoke the next morning feeling refreshed, despite the fact that the cot he had collapsed upon the previous evening had not felt that comfortable when he first lay down on it.

  Tamala groaned as he heard her start to move in the cot that they had placed alongside his own, bringing a smile to the young man’s face. He rolled to face her, failing to hide the grin on his face, as she raised herself up on one elbow in order to survey the world about her.

  “You can get rid of that silly grin before you start.” The tone of her voice sounded serious but she stuck her tongue out immediately, thus ensuring that Cal was fairly, though not totally, certain that she was just joking.

  “And a good morning to you as well gorgeous.” His grin only grew bigger. “If you insist on disappearing again after eating and then not returning for half the night then you can’t blame me for your current state.”

  “And what’s wrong with my current state?”

  “From where I’m lying, nothing, though I might be slightly biased in that observation.”

  Tamala laughed out loud, causing a few nearby Lighters to look in their direction. “You’ve spent too much time with Dorrin; you’re definitely picking up his flair for words,” Cal’s cheeks flashed red, causing Tamala to laugh even harder, “but there’s still enough of the country bumpkin I fell in love with to suit my tastes.”

  “Bumpkin is it?” Cal lunged at the flame haired beauty, causing her to lean back too quickly and tumble from the cot. Now it was Cal’s turn to laugh out loud, only stopping when a discrete cough interrupted from behind.

  Turning from the distressed Tamala, Cal saw Astridson regarding them with open mirth. “I thought that I should check that the pair of you were actually awake, we’ve got quite a bit to do today.”

  Cal rolled his own body off his cot and came lightly to his feet. Tamala’s response to his ability to be so sprightly first thing in the morning was to throw her pillow at the back of his head. An act that caught him by surprise as he was facing Astridson at the time.

  “I’d like to start preparations as quickly as possible,” he theatrically rubbed the back of his head as he spoke, “if only to get away from this abusive woman.”

  Astridson smiled at the jest at Tamala’s expense. “In that case, we better get going before she finds something heavy to throw.” He ducked the shoe that flew past his own head.

  Cal and Astridson walked out of the cave mouth and into the murky morning light. The Lighter warrior saw Cal pause as he moved outside and knew exactly what had caused the slight hesitation.

  “It’s always misty in the gorge, part of the mystique of Agorel,” he smiled, “probably the main reason that we have so few visitors. Why is it that you humans always associate mist with evil?”

  Cal returned the smile. “Too many old tales told by our grandmothers. Perhaps Agorel played a part in that, using the mist to discourage people from sticking their noses in where it wasn’t really wanted.”

  “Perhaps.” The pair fell silent for a while as the Lighter led Cal along to the northern end of the gorge, an end that appeared a lot quicker than Cal would have thought. Another note to add to the mystery of this beautiful place, he mused.

  Once they reached the shelter of the cliff Astridson pointed out a pair of slightly rundown buildings that slowly appeared out of the mist. “You can stock up on arrows and get any additional clothes you might wish from over there. The further of the two is the smithy, I’m sure they’ll be able to cater to whatever you need.

  I’ll be back shortly, after I’ve made sure we’ll have horses and provisions available when we need.” Astridson paused for a moment. “Cal, you do realise that we’re going to spend a few weeks here don’t you. I mean there are things that Tamala needs to learn before we go any further.”

  Cal nodded but didn’t say anything before turning toward the buildings and walking briskly over to them. He found himself chafing to be moving again but he could also see the necessity of giving Tamala time to become accustomed to her new role.

  As he closed the distance he began to pick out the distinctive sounds of the blacksmith at work. The brash clang of pieces of iron being hammered from there former, useless state, into something that would enable it’s user to carry out whatever task it was made for brought back memories that caused Cal to stop where he stood for a moment and think of the childhood home that seemed so far away.

  He continued to reminisce for several minutes before he mentally shrugged at the fact that things couldn’t stay the same way forever. Admittedly, he had not thought that they would change quite so much, but he could not deny that there were some positive sides even to the desperate situation he found himself in.

  He resumed his walk toward the two buildings with a second mental shrug.

  Tamala had left the cave shortly after the two men had made their less than gracious exit. She had paused long enough to wolf down a small bowl of broth and a piece of bread that she had been passed by one of the Lighter women, then made her way out into the mist.

  She knew exactly where she was heading, despite never having been to the valley before. It was almost as if she could sense the power of her destination.

  After a walk of no more than ten minutes she faced the far wall of the gorge, from out of which sprang the tiny beginnings of a stream. She waited, staring intently at the water that forced its way from between the rocks, whilst about her the mist seemed to thicken and take on a darker cast, shielding her from the sight of any others that might wander past this spot.

  The continuing wall of darkness was abruptly split by a thin shaft of light from within the rock itself. The shaft grew rapidly, engulfing the young magic user, brightening as it did until it was too bright to look at directly.

  As abruptly as it had appeared, the shaft of light disappeared, leaving no trace of Tamala.

  Vorston stirred as the heavy door opened. Both Collett and himself had eventually dozed off, though Luda, once he had recovered from the blast of power that had temporarily rendered him unconscious, had steadfastly stated his intention to remain awake against the possibility of an escape opportunity presenting itself.

  Glancing over his shoulder Vorston saw Luda was indeed still wide awake, though he made no move toward the d
oor. Looking back he saw why. Baridon stood in the open doorway, flanked by some of the biggest men the dwarf had ever seen. Not one was less than six and a half feet tall and all wore a solid looking combination of plate armour and chain mail.

  Maybe Luda could match one of them in single combat, but from the look of the way they carried themselves, he doubted that Collett or himself would stand much of a chance.

  The dwarf considered their position as they were motioned to stand and follow the Chancellor. He would have thought that if Cal and Tamala had been captured then they would have been deposited in the same room as themselves, so he was assuming that they had escaped. Good news for them if they had, but as he wasn’t certain as to the fact he could not rely upon them in any planning that might be done toward an escape.

  In their small group they had probably the finest tactician Boraan could provide and one of their more capable lords, more than capable of taking care of himself in a brawl as well as leading troops into battle. Vorston himself was no stranger to the harsh reality of battle, but from their current position he saw little that could offer much hope of success unless circumstances changed quite a bit more than looked likely in the near future.

  Almost as if he had read the dwarf’s mind Collett winked, “Patience.” His voice was scarcely a whisper and Vorston was sure that none of the guards could have heard. Knowing that Collett was also applying his mind to the problem was comforting to say the least.

  The relief was short lived. They were led out of one of the servants’ entrances where a covered cart stood. Two oxen shuffled nervously as they waited, held in check by a dark haired ruffian who matched Luda for sheer size.

  Two guards roughly grabbed each man and produced iron manacles that were firmly attached to the prisoners’ wrists before they were shoved toward the cart. They were then pushed round to the back and up the wooden steps placed below the rear axle.