"Vennesulte does not think it was good that she touched you. Vennesulte sees a fragility within you that will not be able to withstand her allure," he said as he stood up and walked over to the cell door.
"What was I supposed to do? We have no way of escaping," I said as I joined him.
"Vennesulte would not resign to such hopelessness yet. Remember, there is still one who has not been captured," he said.
"Do you mean Kinarin?" I said almost spitting as I his name.
"Would Vennesulte possess another meaning?" he said as he turned toward me.
"No. He had his chance to intervene. He had his chance to fight. And he left. He watched us lose and he left. I will never forgive him for that," I said as both Vennesulte and I stood facing each other. I thought I saw a rare expression of empathy in his eyes in response to the tears forming in mine; but his following action dismissed my initial interpretation when he silently turned, walked to the center of the cell, and resumed his all too familiar, cross-legged posture. As he closed his eyes, he said what would be his final statement of the day, "We should rest now. I feel we will need to move soon, but now is the time for rest."
He often spoke cryptically, so I did not weigh his words too heavily when he did. But I did feel tired on an emotional level. Part of me wanted to sleep for eternity and dream of the times of years past. I wanted more than anything to be cleaning out the horse stalls of our farm no matter how putrid they smelled. I wanted to be annoyed by my sisters as they sought to engage me in their gaming schemes. And I wanted to hug my mother; to once again be consumed by her selfless and complete love. As my mind wandered through the levels of sleep, I found myself dreaming of my father's farm and my home. Such was the wonderful peace of those dreams, they held me raptured in their illusions. Truly, in that moment, I would not have objected had they consumed me for the entirely of creation. But they did not.
Invading my peaceful recollection of a more peaceful and plentiful time was a very annoying poking to my shoulder. At first, I turned around in my dream and expected to find my sister Hithelyn prodding me with one of her make-believe weapons in an attempt to gain my attention, but when I did not see her, nor anyone responsible for the continual prodding, I looked up to the sky. The clouds were brightly outlined and slightly grey on their interior. They were lightly fluffy and floated without an ominous intent. As they stretched into the Horizon, I could see they blended into a dark grey that threatened of storms, but they were far away and not likely to reach our farm until the chores had already been completed.
And there it was again, the nudging to my shoulder. I turned around more quickly this time expecting to catch one of my sisters as they scurried away after playing a joke on me, but no one was there once again. Instead of looking to the sky this time, I turned in the direction of our farm house and, as expected, saw my mother standing just outside of the doorway. She was clearly yelling something, but I was too far away to clearly make out what she was saying.
I found myself running toward her with my sisters in stride. They were laughing and yelling at me to run faster and faster. But no matter how fast I ran, they were somehow able to keep my pace. When I looked from them to our house, though we had been running for what should have been enough time to cross at least half of the distance, we were no closer to reaching our home than what we had been when we started. I did not see my mother outside yelling any longer and assumed she walked inside to finalize our dinner's preparations. I turned to my right and caught my sister Jinola as she told me to wake up. I laughed and looked to my sister Hithelyn who was looking at me quite sternly, echoing Jinola's directive.
I looked back to Jinola, and was going to answer her request, but when I turned my head, I did not see my sister running next to me as I had expected. Instead I saw her dressed in all black and holding two threatening daggers in her small fists. I stopped running and immediately whipped my head around to see my other sister mimicking Jinola's readied posture. Before I could speak, they both lashed out in unison and would have bitten deeply into my skin had I not opened my eyes and seen Kinarin's face inches from mine.
"Drin," he whispered softly yet briskly. "Drin," he said again as my mind was attempting to clear the fog of a dream enhanced slumber, "are you fit to move?"
"Vennesulte does not think he is ready," he said as he walked over to where I was laying.
"Drin, clear your senses and gain control over your mind. It is time to move," said my mentor as he lifted me to my feet. The rapid movement allowed the full assertion of my wakeful mind, though not without a short moment of unsteadiness.
When my legs felt firm, and my anger at Kinarin had returned, I asked him, "Why did you let us get captured?"
"We can talk while we move. We do not have time to sit idly. If we are to rescue your two sisters, we must act on our opportunity now. I do not think we will get another chance," he said as he silently and quickly walked through the opened cell door. I looked to Vennesulte for an explanation, but he just shrugged his shoulders and followed Kinarin's lead leaving me to do the same.
As we exited the cell, I saw two guards, both whom were dead, but showed no signs of the cause. They looked peaceful, as if they were returned to a restful place removed from the troubles and strife-riddled dictates of life.
"Drin, there is no time, we must move," Kinarin said emphasizing the word move.
All three of us quickly and quietly made our way through the dungeon's corridors avoiding notice from the rotating guard patrols. Kinarin seemed to instinctively know where they would be, when they would turn, which way they would turn, and for how long they would be turned. Because of his leading, we soon exited the dungeons completely unnoticed.
"Very good. Keep following me and stay close. We still have a bit of a journey into another part of the keep before we find your sisters. I just hope they are still alone when we get there," he said as he peered around a corner.
"You have seen them?" I asked.
He chose to remain silent as he quickly rounded the corner and traveled the thirty or so feet of the hallway until he came to a closed door. Once he reached the door, with myself and Vennesulte close behind, he produced a single, thin metal instrument about five inches in length. It looked to be one part to a set of lockpicks, but there were several jagged ridges on one of the sides. I saw him insert it into the keyhole and wait a moment. before making a few very minor adjustments. Then, after only a few short moments, I heard a very faint click. He removed the object and placed it back in his pouch. Gently placing his hand on the handle, he pushed the door slowly open revealing a very large room with multiple beds affixed to all four walls.
The room obviously served as an internal barracks to house the royal guard, but since there was no royal guard anymore, at least none that were currently housed within this chamber, it was empty; empty of people, but not signs of life; or rather, life as it used to be. Most of the beds were unmade, something inexcusable in military life. Likewise, there were other signs of disarray. Clothes were randomly and hurriedly thrown on the floor, random drawers of the many bed tables had been left open, and small pieces of paper littered the floor all adding to an overall appearance of messiness ultimately indicating two things. Firstly, its inhabitants had left in a hurry, and secondly, they did not return from wherever they were going.
"Follow me, I have something for us," Kinarin said as he led us to one of the lower bunks. He approached a closed chest at the end of a bed across the room, one of the few that were still closed and locked, and produced a key from inside his pouch. Using it to open the chest, he reached in and produced three individual robes. “Here, put these on,” he instructed. As we did, he reached in and produced the weapons I had before we were captured. The twin blades felt a little too much like home in my hands. He handed Vennesulte three short pieces of wood and said, “Here, this should do. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes, Vennesulte prefers the three-sectioned staff, but was not allowed to carry it ou
tside of the monasteries. How did you come by it?” he asked as he admired its construction.
“I have not the slightest of ideas. Does it really matter?” said Kinarin as he too donned the robes.
“No. In the end, it is here,” he said.
“It is time we go. Now begins the difficult part of our infiltration," he said as he checked to make sure his disguise was complete.
"Difficult?" I asked. "How do you mean, difficult?"
"Difficult because I was unable to ascertain any information regarding the layout, timing, and guard rotation of the interior of the stone keep. Your sisters are kept there, as is the majority of the current Lord's interior guard," he said as he fastened his belt.
"Are you sure our disguises will work? Have you seen people wearing them?" I asked.
"Yes, I have. And no, I am not. There is more intricacy to a disguise than just simple clothing. We must mimic their actions as closely as possible. From what I have been able to gather, those wearing these robes are often times left to themselves. They are largely unengaged by the guards. In fact, I believe they are somewhat feared, or at the very least, partially revered by the common guards. From now on, when we walk, we must keep our heads lowered and our hands crossed in front, hidden in the robes. Our steps must be together and only about three quarters as much as a normal walking pattern," he said as he demonstrated their posture. "Though you will likely wish to attend to whatever sights and sounds we will encounter, you must resist them. Remember, you are not an assassin. Neither are you a member of The Brotherhood,”
“Vennesulte is not a member of The Brotherhood,” said the boy monk interrupting Kinarin.
“Yes, I know. But now you cannot walk, or act, or talk, as if you were ever a member. We are now members of whatever evil we encounter. Do you understand?" he asked us.
“Yes,” we said in unison.
“Good, then we must go,” he said.
As we exited the indoor barracks through a large door opposite the one we entered, we passed a set of four guards dressed in faded black leather armor. Hanging at their wastes were several wicked looking blades. They did not appear to be applicable for battle as they practicality did not apply to either reach or speed, two of the advantages often times sought in conflicts. However, they did appear to be effective at maximizing pain. I could only assume their intent, and that of the guards carrying them, was meant for torture.
We were about to pass them by when one of them spoke, "Where have you been? We have," he paused, "guests that require your talents," he said. When he finished speaking, the other three slightly snickered under their breaths as if whatever talents we were supposed to have possessed would expectantly lead to their enjoyment.
Kinarin did not verbally respond, but I did see him, in my peripheral vision, gaze up at the guard who spoke. The guard's expression turned from a grin of mild anticipation to one of more pronounced apology. "I am sorry, Necron. I did not mean to offend. Please, at your leisure," he said as he slightly bowed his head, a gesture that was duplicated in the other three torturers.
Kinarin raised his head slightly more than what it had been, and just when I thought he was going to verbally address the guard with an admonishment, he spun around and backhanded me hard across the face knocking me against the wall. In a tone I had never heard before, his voice carrying an ominous and evil threat, he spoke, "See that you do not offend me such again. You will not raise your head, or make any such motion, unless I deem it necessary enough to allow." Apparently, I was not alone in my startlement because I saw the four guards recoil from him as well.
After the four torturers stood completely still for a moment, their apparent leader spoke, "Yes. Well then. Very well. This way please. Our captives are waiting for you."
As if he knew what he was supposed to do, Kinarin instantly fell in step behind the four torturers, head slightly tilted down. Vennesulte and I did the same, and although I had an almost overwhelming urge to wipe the blood he had drawn from my lip, I kept my hands folded inside the sleeves and my head down not willing to risk another demonstration of Kinarin's dedication to his disguise. They led us down several sets of twisting steps until we came to a singular, black door. There was no keyhole and there did not appear to be a handle. When the head torturer stood in front of it, he reached inside his tunic and pulled out some sort of object, its exact description I was unable to see.
As he touched it to the door, it pulsed with what seemed like an audible energy, but I was unable to completely distinguish whether I felt or heard it. Nevertheless, my apparent lack of comprehension did not prevent it from completing its task allowing the door to open slowly outward.
When it did, there was a decidedly evil and oppressive energy emitting from within the corridor. It was dark, dank, and stale in every way an old castle corridor could be. But beyond that, it reeked of wrongness, but not the way a spoiled piece of meat reeks. There was no tangible odor, but to say it “smelled” was the most accurate description I could conjure because it hung in the soul the way a particularly foul odor hangs in the nostrils even after the offensive item has been removed. With each step, the halls seemed to more tightly press against us, except they were not growing in their physical confinement. As we were led more deeply inside the foulness, passing door after door, we became aware of the possibility that we might not escape. Understanding the severity of this new consideration created an added emotion of fear to supplement the wrongness of our steps. So absorbed was I in the effect of my surroundings that I almost collided into Kinarin when he stopped in front of a door to our right.
"Necron, would you like us to continue our presence inside to help facilitate your work?" asked the head guard. I was always grateful for Kinarin's leading presence in our endeavors, but never more so than now. Had I been called upon to answer, I was quite certain my response would have involved vomiting and convulsing as it was taking all of my efforts to simply breath and walk in step with both of my companions.
"We should require no assistance. It is better you do not witness what we are about to complete. It is quite," he paused to look directly into the guard's eyes, "unsettling."
"Are you sure you will not require our abilities, Necron?" asked the man. Instead of a verbal response as Kinarin had delivered each time before, he struck the man senseless across the face. "See that he is harshly reminded of his insolence when he regains consciousness," he said as he returned his head to the slightly downcast posture we were becoming familiar with. As a unit, the other three torturers picked up their apparent leader and hastily retreated down the corridor, hoping to avoid another admonishment from Kinarin.
Although I knew the answer to the question I was about to ask, I asked it anyway, probably out of principle, "Did you have to hit me that hard?" I had been struck by Kinarin during our training sessions, and while they were always forceful, this was the first time I was struck completely unaware.
"Be glad I did not strike you as hard as I did the guard," he said as he turned to examine the door. "You would not have been able to follow us if I had."
"Where do we go now?" I asked as I looked to Vennesulte who was leaning against his three sectioned staff almost oblivious to the awful rankness of this place. Although the struggle was considerable, I did find myself becoming more and more adept at ignoring its effect the longer I spent within the halls, though I still felt my companions were having a better time of it.
"I do not know," he said as he more closely examined the door. "One thing I do know, however, we will not be going through this door. I cannot open it."
"Your lockpicks will not work?" I asked, more out of disbelief than actual inquisition.
"There is no tumbler set to use them upon. I cannot pick a lock if there is no lock," he said as he looked down the corridor in the direction we had just been escorted.
"Vennesulte does not believe it is time to retract our progress. We should continue forward," said Vennesulte in an uncharacteristically vocal manner. For mos
t of our combined endeavors, he chose to remain silent and follow our lead, or rather Kinarin's lead. But every so often, he would voice his thoughts and opinions.
In response, Kinarin and I turned to look farther down the corridor and saw that it ended in a doublewide set of doors about fifty yards away. "Well, it would not be wise for us to return the way we came. If we are seen by the guards who brought us down here, they will undoubtedly have questions regarding the completion of our supposed task. The boy is right, we must go through those doors. Maintain your disguises."
As a unit, we moved to the doors. When we were within about twenty of our reduced paces away, it slowly opened and we found ourselves face to face with another group of three figures wearing the exact same robes we were.
"Necron," said the leader as a sign of acknowledgement. He paused and waited a moment all while keeping his head lowered in their familiar stance.
"Necron," returned Kinarin and moved to bypass them.
"Pause and hold," said the leader of the other group. It was more of a command than an acknowledgement. Without turning toward the voice, Kinarin stopped. Vennesulte and I did the same.
"I have a request," he stated.
"Voice it, and it will be done," said Kinarin.
"It is nice to see one so readily compliant. In the necessity of haste, we have had to forgo some of the more intricate dictates of the training in favor of accentuating the more lethal uses of our art. This results in a rather annoying occurrence of delayed obedience. It is good to see it void in you," he said. Before Kinarin could respond, one of the other robed figures, his face hidden within the folds of his hood, leaned in and whispered something in their leader's ear.
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