by D.E. Dunlop
“Wait…” She called, but it was too late. She felt a cold shiver in her whole body all of a sudden. A strange shimmering, like that of radiating heat, appeared in the doorway and the door slammed shut. She looked at the door confoundedly, crossed her arms on her breast and pulled her shawl up over her shoulders. She sat down next to Tinne to console him.
Ollie’s front door was wide open when Ren arrived. He walked right in, calling to Ollie. He stopped abruptly at the sight. The house was in shambles. Ren waded through the mess looking for Ollie, but to no avail. The bookshelves were knocked over and the drawers were pulled out. All of their contents were on the floor and Ollie was not to be found. He decided to go to Dick’s Place to see if he could find anyone who may know what happened to Ollie.
When he entered the café his eyes darted around the room for Sittyans and other “unfriendlies”. He found Jas’n at their favourite table in the front window and quickly joined him.
“Have you seen Ollie?” He said quietly.
“Who’s Ollie? And where the hell have you been?” He replied. “I was starting to think you were dead. Where’s Tinne?”
“He’s at the apartment. Coffee?”
“Sure.”
“I buy, you fly.” Ren said.
Jas’n went up to the counter for coffee and Ren leaned back in his chair and stared out the window to contemplate. He contemplated the Sittyan invasion. He wasn’t worried about being spotted because he knew in an army that large detection was unlikely. Nobody had his picture and their encounter was so far in the past and so far away from Bayfield that they probably called off the search for him and Tinne anyway.
He contemplated Ollie’s disappearance and wondered if he had been arrested and thrown in jail, or worse, maybe they killed him in the arena. He contemplated Tinne’s plight and the where about of the Black Dragon. “How do the Sitts know the stone is here? That book of Ollie’s is a one of a kind, hand written, found by chance, sort of book.” He mused. “Surely they haven’t found the Brotherhood of Anon. They’re extremely low-key. They just don’t get found. Maybe Ollie went looking for them.” “I wonder.” This last statement he actually said out loud.
“You wonder what?” Jas’n asked as he sat down with the coffee.
“Oh, nothing.” He answered, but really he was thinking about Sheila’s ruby and the effect it had on young men other than him. He wondered why he hadn’t even so much as thought about it since he stole it. “Weird.” He muttered.
Jas’n just looked at him and went back to his book.
“So where have you been?” Jas’n bugged after a few minutes.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did you find the Field of Lords?” He persisted.
“I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. You don’t have to be a prick about it.” Jas’n muttered.
While he looked sternly at Jas’n his attention was captured by a conversation that was taking place at the counter.
“I know he can get you in. If anyone can get anyone into the palace it’s my friend Ren.” A young man said to a small group of men.
The young man’s name was Mike. He was a few years younger than Ren, but had been hanging around him at Dick’s Place for quite some time. He idolized the older members of the small group of friends and longed to be one of the guys. In his eagerness he would often boast of their talents and mischievous adventures.
Ren turned back to the window and pretended not to notice. He thought Mike was a good kid, but his boasting could be somewhat of a nuisance. Especially when he boasted to strangers about talents Ren had never meant to share in the first place.
“Oh, there he is there. Come on over I’ll introduce you.” Mike said with a sense of importance and pride. He was about seventeen and stood five feet and six inches tall. His black hair was straight and cut very short. He wore a scruffy goatee on his tan face.
“Hey, Ren…” He said as he approached.
Ren turned to look at him with almost obviously feigned interest.
“What?” He replied almost arrogantly.
“These guys want to get in the palace.” He whispered as he sat down.
The four men he referred to stepped close to the table to ensure confidentiality. They were obviously, to Ren and Jas’n, battle hardened men. They wore hooded cloaks in such a way as to make one wonder if they weren’t hiding from something. The apparent leader partially removed his hood and extended his hand toward Ren.
“Pleased to meet you. My name is Robert.” Jessie said.
“Okay.” Ren said, knowing full well that was not his real name. “Have a seat.” He offered. “So, what do you want in the palace for?” He asked once they had all gathered chairs and sat down.
“That’s something we’d rather not disclose at this time.” Jessie said.
“Look, I know who you are.” Ren said to him. “I’m a thief”. Considering the current situation around Bayfield, Ren didn’t feel threatened to reveal his occupation to the exiled Captain of the Guard. “I know who to stay away from to stay out of prison. I just wanna know what a guy like you needs with a guy like me.”
“I’ve always had free reign of the palace. I’ve never needed to know how to sneak in unnoticed. Sure, I know where secret entrances are, but I need a man who can get us deep inside unnoticed. That’s all I can say. I’m putting a lot on the line with that much.”
“So, what’s in it for me?” Ren queried.
“I might be able to give you full pardon of all the thefts you’ve committed.” Jessie answered.
Ren looked around the room and into the street.
“The way things are right now, I don’t think I need a pardon.” Ren said.
“True. Provided things remain the way they are right now.” Jessie mentioned.
The other five men at the table carried on their own conversations while looking back and forth between the two from time to time.
“Well, I’ll have to discuss it with my guy. He’s a little out of it since the last adventure.” Ren explained.
“You mean Tinne? You know he hates breaking into the palace. He’s afraid.” Jas’n interjected.
“Well of course he hates it, but he’s always done it. It’s a rush. He’ll especially be into it when he hears whose askin’.” Ren dismissed.
“He’s no good if he’s scared. Let me go. I’m not scared.” Mike said eagerly.
Ren looked at him crossly. “His fear is one of the two main reasons we don’t get caught. He plans everything to the letter.” Ren explained matter of factly.
“What’s the other reason?” Mike questioned.
“Me.” Ren answered indignantly as if the answer should have been obvious.
Jessie let Ren know where they could be found later and Ren went off to tell Tinne about their next adventure.
When Ren returned to the apartment he found the front door splintered from its hinges and Tinne was lying on his face in a puddle of blood. His sword was still in his hand.
“Spirit Hunters.” He whispered under shallow breaths as Ren turned him over. “They took her.”
Ren’s reaction was one of horror and rage. He searched frantically about the apartment calling her name.
“They took Bee.” Tinne continued in sobbing groans. “I couldn’t stop them. I tried.”
Ren took a closer look at his friend and was relieved the blood was from a number of fairly superficial wounds.
“What happened?” He asked.
“I was partially awake when you left. Ezbieta tried to stop you. She called out the door, “Wait, I have the stone.” She came and sat beside me and when she realized I was awake she started to tell me how she had found it in the armoury that night we took the Kozlov. It was sitting in the palm of a statue. She just liked it. She thought it would be a good seer’s stone because its obsidian. She didn’t know
what it was until you described it. I tried to stop her from talking, but she wouldn’t. I tried to explain about the Spirit Hunters, but she was so excited, she took it out of her pocket to show me and I was too slow. The front door came crashing down and six guards grabbed hold of her.
“We’ll take that.” They said. “You’re kind of cute and a witch too.” They said when they saw the tattoos on her wrists. “Let’s take her too.” The leader said. I tried to fight them off, but six is too many. I got one of’em real good. That’s where most of the blood’s from.”
Ren threw Tinne’s clothes at him.
“Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
“We can’t storm the palace ourselves.” Tinne argued.
“I’ve gotta different idea and reinforcements.” He said hastily while Tinne followed him out the door, hobbling almost feebly.
“What the heck is a Spirit Hunter?” Ren asked.
“They’re spies who work for the queen of Sitty. They meditate on an object or place and they project part of their spirit to the object of their meditation. If they don’t have an object they can meditate on its description. They can also be drawn to a place where their target is being discussed if they happen to be roaming at the time of its mention. Once they locate what they’re looking for they return to their body and report to the queen.” Tinne explained as they walked. “They’re the reason I’ve been so reluctant to speak of the stone. I didn’t want their attention.”
Ren looked at him with concern written all over his face. “Can we stop them?” He asked.
“Well, yeah, but it’s too late, they’ve got the stone.” Tinne said.
“Can they do anything while they’re travelling other than look at things?”
“It takes a great deal of concentration to project. Most Spirit Hunters are only capable of it for an hour or less, but the experienced can actually move small objects short distances or make audible noise.”
“How do they get around while they’re there, or can they only stand there? Can you see them? What do they look like?” Ren asked. “Can we stop them?” He asked again with insistence.
“Hold your horses. I’m getting there. Depending on experience they can travel through inanimate objects. They can touch animate objects, but that usually shocks them back into their body. It also causes serious bruising to the being they touched. What do they look like?” Tinne Parroted. “You know how you can see heat waves when you’re looking across a field in midsummer?” He asked. Ren nodded. “They look like that only in the shape of a man and they have a slightly blue or green glow to them.”
“Good luck seeing one, then.” Ren said.
“Exactly. That’s what makes them such effective spies.”
“So, if animate objects shock them back to their bodies, all we have to do is touch them, right?” Ren asked.
“Yes, but its gravely dangerous. One touch is the equivalent of being kicked. You’re better off striking them with an inanimate object.” Tinne answered.
“But, you said they can pass through inanimate objects.” Ren argued.
“They can, but they need to be expecting it.” Tinne explained, “But, anyway, like I said, they’ve already got what they want. The queen isn’t likely to dispatch them anymore.”
“How are we going to stop her then? Once she starts yappin’ we’ll all be nothing more than puppets.”
“It doesn’t work on specific people. We all still have free will. Those who are unaware of the story simply choose, unconsciously, to follow the plot. Those who are aware…”
“Can choose to go against it.” Ren finished.
Tinne nodded. “Ultimately, we need to get the Gorchan from her.”
When they entered the Inn they were nearly running.
“What are we doing here, anyway?” Tinne asked as they went up the stairs and around the corner. Ren ignored his question and knocked on one of the doors.
“We’re going in tonight.” Ren blurted when James opened the door. “Tell Jessie we’ll meet him at the drainage pipe that pours into Sunnidale ravine at dark.”
James looked from Ren to Tinne quickly while processing the unexpected visit and the information he received. He then nodded slightly his acknowledgement and closed the door.
Chapter 20
Saving Ezbieta
The tunnel walls hung with moisture and moss. The occasional mouse scampered away before them. From time to time they heard the cries of prisoners in the cells overhead. They took a long arduous, yet uneventful trek to the main area of the palace.
Ren lead them down passages and corridors, they doubted even king Gerald had known were there. When they ran out of corridor they climbed into a ceiling vent that had been built into the stone structure. They followed it for some time; of course travelling in the small vent was rather slow, so determining how far they had travelled was not so easy. At one point they nearly came out in the barracks. They narrowly escaped detection by a group of soldiers returning from their patrol.
“This is it.” Ren said.
“Are you sure this time?” Jessie whispered.
“Yeah, this is it.”
“We should probably have disguises.” Somebody whispered.
They all looked back and forth at each other for a minute knowing they should’ve considered that sooner.
“Too late now.” Tinne said and jumped down to the floor.
The rest waited while he scoped out the adjoining rooms and halls. He came back in a Sittyan uniform.
“Come on, I found some disguises.” He said with a grin. Before long they were all suited up and moving a little more confidently toward the prison.
Angela’s cell, aside the bars, quite resembled any other bedchamber of the palace. Princess Kathryn had insisted and pressed lavish gifts on her prizefighter for several months; coloured cloth and draperies, elaborate quilts and plush pillows. With the exception of freedom she had everything she ever wanted or needed. Well, maybe not everything.
“Angela.” A voice called softly from outside the bars.
Silence.
“Angela.” The voice called a little louder.
Silence again.
“I don’t think she’s there.” One of Jessie’s men said to him.
“It’s a little late for the arena, isn’t it guard?” A cold female voice responded.
They were surprised to see she was right in front of them. She was sitting in a chair in the corner.
“Ange, it’s me, Jessie.” He said with great excitement.
“I don’t care what your name is, guard and who do you keep calling for?”
“Ange, my Heart. It’s me, Jessie. Surely you remember.” Jessie pleaded.
She stepped up to the bars and looked at him blankly. Jessie’s heart melted as he realized that she no longer recognized him.
“My name is Yellow-five.” She said flatly and walked away. She had finally succumbed to the treatment and accepted her new identity. Jessie stared after her, grief stricken.
“What do we do?” One of them asked.
“I don’t know.” Another answered.
“We do what we came to do. We break her out.” Jessie said matter-of-factly and tested the bars. Three of them scanned the bars for a week spot while another inspected the lock.
“Where’s the thief?” He asked to no avail. Once they had found Angela’s cell Ren and Tinne had gone off to find Ezbieta and the Gorchan.
“She’s not here.” Ren exclaimed. His frustration was becoming obvious. They had checked every cell in the prison.
“Where else do they hold prisoners?” Tinne asked almost rhetorically.
They paced around anxiously trying to figure out where they might be keeping Ezbieta.
A couple of guards walked by and Ren and Tinne saluted them and ducked into an alcove.
“Have you seen the witch they caught yesterday?” One guard said t
o the other as they passed. “You’d never know it to look at her. She doesn’t look like a witch at all. She looks more like the girl next door.”
Ren and Tinne looked at each other in amazement and stepped back out behind the guards.
“Excuse me.” Ren said. “We were to tend to the witch, but can’t recall her cell number.
**********
Ezbieta stood alone in a dark cell. The only light came from a torch and the night sky, both of which crept defiantly through separate openings. The torchlight crept through the small opening in the door and the starlight through an opening directly above her head. She paced around examining and contemplating her small, round, stone allowance. She paced and she paced. She tried to think of some spell she could use to free herself, but she was too nervous and she only had a minor amulet around her neck, which was only good for self-esteem. She, momentarily, gave up on magic and turned to calculating distance and mass. She tested the hinge pins and tried to see inside the lock. Her next plan was to climb to the window, if she could get some kind of grip on the stones, but there wasn’t enough to hold on to. She had just begun to feel for loose mortar when the idea struck her. She had studied it in one of Ollie’s books over the winter. She sat down on the bench directly across from the door and set her concentration on the lock. She wondered if she could do it. This was her first attempt. Just as Ren had always claimed, need is the basis for success and before long she was in a trance like state. Ezbieta sat until her muscles began to twitch. Strange sensations worked through her body and she had to refocus. Two or three hours passed and she came to a point where she felt herself inside her body. She could move within it as if it were a case she was locked in. She recognized she was close and focussed even more than she knew she could. After a pulling feel in her centre she was suddenly standing right in front of the door. Slightly discouraged she turned around to try again, but was shocked by what she saw and momentarily confused by the jolt and the sudden change of perspective. She had seen herself, still sitting and staring at the lock with a fine silver cord connecting her to her body. The shock had snapped her back into her body. She took a moment to regroup and she began again.