Lost City

by Jeffrey Poole

“Including Rahygren, five. Maybe six, depending on whether or not the guard Athos lured away was with the original group. Why do you want to know?”

  “You do realize that as of right now we outnumber them?”

  “Aye, we do, grandfather, but in this scenario, we can’t count you, Lukas, or Tristofer as being combat ready. Therefore we number three, and at the moment, with Athos out there somewhere, we number two.”

  “We have the advantage,” Kasnar stated.

  “In what way?”

  “They don’t know the true power of the hammer.”

  Breslin was unimpressed.

  “So? Neither do we.”

  “We show them.”

  “And risk Lukas?” Breslin shook his head. “I will not involve an underling in any way.”

  “Lukas is already involved,” Kasnar pointed out, “whether you like it or not.”

  A loud commotion sounded outside the door. Someone pounded on a nearby wall.

  “Come out now and I promise to let you live!”

  “You promise us?” Breslin barked back. “What does the word of a thief and kidnapper mean to us? Absolutely nothing! This is my final offer. You and your men lay down your arms. If you do that –”

  A rumbling began and grew steadily stronger. Everyone clapped their hands over their ears as an earsplitting shriek rent the air. Higher and higher the piercing noise rose, attaining a decibel level that could rupture eardrums with prolonged exposure. Armor and weapons were knocked off their shelves and displays as the tremors grew in intensity.

  “This is it!” Tristofer wailed. “This is the end! We must surrender! We must…”

  Venk snatched a gilded mace from the ground and conked it over Tristofer’s head. The scholar collapsed into a heap.

  Lukas stared at his father with wide-eyed astonishment.

  “Been wanting to do that for quite some time now,” Venk muttered angrily to himself.

  The deafening wail was so loud now that no one could hear each other speak. He nervously eyed his son. He had no idea how they were going to get out of this predicament.

  ****

  Quietly he crept through the deserted streets, keeping his back to the shadows. He strained his ears to listen for any other sounds in the quiet, tomb-like city, however the only sounds he could hear were the loud wheezes his own breaths were making. He had lost track of which way was north, and as such, had become hopelessly lost.

  Cursing his foul luck, Athos darted across a row of abandoned buildings and knelt down next to a large pile of rubble. Glancing behind him, and then up, revealed that the rubble had once been the top corner of a building that had long since collapsed. Once more he held his breath and listened. Was it his imagination? It sounded like a high-pitched buzzing noise had started, and it was coming from slightly behind him and to the right.

  Determined to learn what it was that was making the noise, Athos rose cautiously to his feet. He hadn’t made it more than three steps when a sharp voice drew him to a stop.

  “Oi! Waxrobbe! Where the hell have you been?”

  Athos turned to see one of Rahygren’s henchman standing at the nearest intersection. He angrily beckoned him over.

  “Those bastards have holed up somewhere in the palace. Let’s go! Stop dawdling about and move your arse!”

  Athos grunted in way of acknowledgement. With the visor on his helmet down, the mercenary had no way of learning his true identity, unless he ventured too close. Athos hesitantly shuffled closer.

  The thug in Narian armor cocked his head and put his hands on his hips.

  “Dragon got your tongue? Since when are you this quiet?”

  Athos cursed silently to himself.

  “Say something, old friend.”

  The goon turned to pull his axe free from its holder on his back, but as luck would have it, the axe snagged on one of the many leather straps holding the Narian armor in place. He took his eyes off of Athos for only a moment to see what his axe had snagged on.

  A moment was all Athos needed.

  As soon as he was no longer being watched, Athos pulled his green orix from its holder and with a quick flick of his wrist, snapped it open. Athos sighted his target, lined up the shot, and flung the weapon out.

  Disentangling the axe from the leather straps holding his stolen armor in place, the mercenary finally turned back around to glare at the impostor. He took a threatening step forward.

  “What’d you do to Waxy? Where is he?”

  By now the orix had completed its journey around the buildings and was on a return course. The air whistled softly as the orix spun by, causing Rahygren’s man to look up in confusion. Venk couldn’t have timed it any better if he had tried. The orix collided with the golden plumed helmet the henchman was wearing and knocked him out. Cold. The unconscious dwarf fell forward, landing on his knees. However, he didn’t fall forward, as the armor propped the unconscious dwarf up within the suit.

  Athos chuckled as he eyed the inert form of the mercenary. It was as though the suit of armor had been animated, like a marionette, and had its strings cut, plopping it straight down to lay, discarded, like an unwanted toy. He leaned forward and gave the inert form a not-so-gentle poke with his axe. The armor toppled to the side, taking the mercenary with it.

  After using the thug’s own baldric and belt to immobilize him, Athos retrieved his orix and paused. There it was again: a distant rumble followed closely by a persistent buzzing noise. Whatever it was, it clearly had to be in the direction he needed to go.

  Letting his ears guide him through the city, Athos finally returned to the palace door and noted, with dismay, that the door hadn’t been sealed. He jumped over the mangled remains of the chair wedging the huge door open and ventured inside, weapons at the ready. Thanks to the gold chain embedded in the walls, he was able to see the fresh sets of tracks on the dusty floor, and they all led in the same direction: northeast.

  Having long forgotten how many hallways and empty chambers he passed through, he continued to follow the loud buzzing. Every step closer seemed to make the buzzing increase in volume, until Athos stopped to tear off a couple of small pieces of his undershirt and stuff them into his ears. He could still hear the buzzing, but at least now it didn’t feel like the sounds were trying to implode his skull.

  He had been creeping down a long hallway and had approached another arched door when he hesitated. The floor was trembling, as though a dragon was on the other side of the door and was pacing around. Was this some sort of weapon? If so, who was wielding it? Athos cautiously poked his head through the door.

  There was Rahygren and two of his henchmen. The three of them were huddled over a strange device that was sitting in a small cart. It was at least two feet long and also two feet high, with a depth of about a foot. The black rectangular apparatus had several spinning dials on the top of it, with a clear glass pane on the front. Three or four rotating gears could be seen deep in the heart of the machine. On the left side of the device, aimed directly at an unobtrusive section of wall, was a large gray cone. Both Rahygren and his companion wore padded leather helmets.

  Athos watched as first Rahygren spun a dial on the top of the machine one way, frowned at it, then spun it back the other direction. The mercenary, mimicking his boss, gingerly spun the dial closest to him. Rahygren frowned again and angrily batted the henchman’s hand out of the way. In a desperate attempt to appear as though he knew what he was doing, Rahygren touched a small green button to the left of the gray cone. The device responded by vibrating uncontrollably, almost rattling itself right off the cart. The henchman, having witnessed his boss pressing the button, slapped his own hand on the button, silencing the machine instantly.

  Rahygren was furious. “I know what I’m doing. Do you not remember me telling you that I’ve used this before? Don’t touch anything!”

  Shrugging, the mercenary stepped away from the machine and watched Rahygren reset the device and aim it back at the nearby wall. Seconds later t
he loud buzzing was back. The mercenary pointed at a spot to the right of where the machine was targeted. Rahygren said nothing, but he did angle the device a few degrees to the right. The two of them both glanced disinterestedly at the raw gouge six feet high and several feet deep left in the wall by the pounding audio waves. They still hadn’t found whereabouts in the wall they were hiding. Gritting his teeth, Rahygren vowed to find the intruders and deal with them in the same manner as he had dealt with every other person that had managed to stumble across the city.

  Deciding that there was nothing behind this section of wall but more stone, and deciding to give the ancient machine a temporary reprieve from its active service, Rahygren spun a few more dials and powered the machine down. The level of carnage the disruptor had created was severe and he was hoping to see something that would indicate they were in the right spot. He knew that the intruders had entered this chamber, and since there weren’t any footprints exiting, they clearly had to be in the room. Somewhere. It would just be a matter of time before they were found. He just had to be patient.

  From just behind the open doorway, still hidden from sight, Athos removed the heavy ornate helmet from his head and stuck a finger in his right ear and jiggled it about a bit. His ears were ringing, and ringing badly. Athos eyed the device both Rahygren and his henchman were fussing over. He figured the device must generate strong audio signals and with that cone on the one side of it, could be focused on a single spot. Prolonged exposure would result in the reverberations breaking apart whatever it was aimed at. In this case, the disruptor was trying to punch a hole through the wall but as they’ve yet to find the hidden compartment Breslin and the others must be in, Athos figured their discovery was inevitable. He had to do something!!

  Athos slipped an orix out from its holder under his chest armor. He flicked it open and readied a throw. With his sights set on the back of Rahygren’s head, Athos swung his arm back and prepared to strike him down when all hell broke loose. The section of wall just a few feet to the right of where Rahygren’s device was targeting exploded outward, but in a geometrically perfect circle. Everything in the circle’s path was flung violently backwards, and that included Rahygren, his helper, and the device. Athos had barely enough time to duck back through the door when the blast reached him. He was thrown back against the wall and almost knocked out.

  Blinking stars out of his vision, Athos rose painfully to his feet and gingerly poked his head back into the room. Rahygren and his follower were sprawled out on the ground, covered with bits of gray quartz and larger chunks of what used to be the wall. Once more the Narian armor kept its wearer safe as it absorbed the full power of the blast. Both were slowly stirring.

  Athos quickly scanned the room as he looked for the disruptor. There it was. It was heavily damaged, as the glass pane on the front of it had shattered and several of the metal gears were dented. There was no way this device would be powering back up.

  “Hold the hammer next to it again,” a familiar voice was saying. “Charge it back up!”

  Athos glanced at the circular opening in the wall.

  “Tristofer, I’m a little busy here,” Breslin snapped and surveyed the room. He clenched his teeth as he spotted Athos, thinking it was another of Rahygren’s men.

  Athos waved his arms back and forth, giving Breslin a thumbs up. Recognition flashed on Breslin’s face as he nodded. Breslin hopped through the perfect circle that had been cut through the solid stone and motioned for the others to follow.

  Right about then one of the mercenaries regained full use of his senses and clambered noisily to his feet. He spotted Breslin and instantly reached for his belt, pulling a small object off in the process. The object was twisted this way and that before it was finally thrown straight at Breslin and his companions.

  Breslin, for his part, had spotted the object as it was thrown and correctly guessed that it was another artificial boulder. Sure enough, the boulder rapidly expanded its size in midair as it hurdled towards Breslin. As before, Breslin stood his ground and gripped the power hammer tightly, waiting for the opportune moment to strike at the metal boulder.

  There was a loud clang as Breslin’s hammer made contact. The synthetic Narian boulder instantly reversed course and flew backwards on a direct trajectory back to its original thrower. The shock wave that the impact generated swept through the room, knocking over anyone who wasn’t wearing Narian armor. Those that were wearing the special armor were knocked backwards a few paces but stayed upright.

  The boulder bounced once on the ground and was instantly airborne again, sweeping the henchman along with it. Together they smashed into the back wall, punching a hole straight through to the hallway beyond. Looking through the new doorway they could all see the boulder lodged in the next wall. Below the boulder were two boots sticking out of the rubble. The mercenary was alive, but unable to move as the artificial boulder was pinning his arms to his chest. Not far away was a second pair of boots, also pinned to the ground by several hundred pounds of stone.

  Rahygren regained his feet. A frantic look around confirmed his confident welcoming party had been reduced to a solo act. Cursing profoundly, he started towards the door when he saw Athos hurrying to intercept him, but thanks to the bulkiness of the armor, wouldn’t make it in time. Thinking Athos was Waxrobbe, Rahygren started to smile that smug smile of his when he finally caught sight of his backup’s unprotected head. Rahygren’s eyes widened with disbelief as he watched the impostor reach up under his breastplate and pull out two long flat metal bars, one green and the other gold. The smile melted right off his face.

  Rahygren did the only sensible thing he could think of. He fled.

  Tristofer finally appeared in the freshly cut circular doorway and hopped over.

  “We did it! We won!”

  “The hell we have!” a shrill voice exclaimed, catching everyone’s attention. “Stop him! Catch him! Hurry!!”

  Everyone turned to stare uncomprehendingly at Kasnar. The tiny little dwarf had a distraught look on his face and looked as though he was going to keel over at any moment. Concerned, Athos approached and laid a hand on Kasnar’s shoulder.

  “Are you alright? Perhaps you should –”

  Athos never had a chance to finish his sentence as Kasnar cocked an arm and smacked him on the back of his head. If Athos had been wearing a helmet it would have undoubtedly flown off his head. Kasnar climbed up Athos’ back to get to his harness. Remembering that Athos had removed it when he had lured the guard away from the palace door, Kasnar abandoned his attempt to climb Athos and instead latched on to Venk and climbed up his back. Once the protective leather straps were once more holding him in place, he gripped Venk’s shoulders tightly and smacked him on the back of his head.

  “Hurry! Run!! You’ve got the arrow shooter. If you get the opportunity, use it!”

  Venk dangerously eyed his brother as Athos began coughing in an attempt to hide his laughter.

  “Why do we pursue, grandfather?” Breslin wanted to know. “Now we can leave unhindered. We can go home. You can go home.”

  “Not yet we can’t!” Kasnar insisted. The old man peered intently at the five of them shuffling uneasily from foot to foot. “Do you think small toys are the only weapons to be found down here? Larger, deadlier devices exist that make what you’ve seen thus far seem like toys. Most importantly, if Rahygren makes it back to Bykram first he’ll report us as being the looters responsible for desecrating this city!”

  It was suddenly so quiet that a simple chirp from a kyte would have echoed thunderously throughout the room. Breslin and the others nervously eyed each other.

  “He wouldn’t,” Breslin began.

  “He can and he will!” Kasnar confirmed. “Now run, boy!”

  Breslin took off as though he had been shot out of a trebuchet. The others were right on his heel. Athos had stopped to let Lukas climb up on his back.

  “Don’t let go, boy,” Athos warned as he sprinted after the others.r />
  “Which way would he have gone, grandfather?” Breslin called out from the front of the procession.

  Kasnar thunked Venk on his helmet and urged him to run faster.

  “Get me up there next to my grandson. I can’t hear him. Hurry!”

  Venk’s curse was lost amidst his wheezes as he doubled his efforts to catch up to Breslin.

  “Through there,” Kasnar pointed, singling out a long narrow hallway that was heading away from the king’s private chambers.

  Breslin angled left and ran towards the illuminated hallway. He suddenly realized that following Rahygren through this maze of corridors and hallways was much easier than he had first anticipated. Whatever route Rahygren took, the gold chains, which responded to movement, would illuminate the way and make it incredibly easy to pinpoint which direction he was traveling. Since the hallway they were following dead ended at another running east and west, a quick glance in each direction verified that the chains were illuminated on the right and not on the left.

  Following this corridor led them to a courtyard with doorways in all directions. Quiet and serene, nestled safely within the palace, Venk figured this courtyard must have been used by the king himself. A commotion just ahead snapped his head up and he watched Breslin disappear through the second doorway on the left. Holding his aching side, Venk ran for the door before the crotchety old timer on his back could deliver another stinging blow to the backside of his head.

  “What’s through here?” Venk wheezed out.

  “No idea.”

  “What? How is it you don’t know?”

  “You were aware that I was locked up for most of the time?”

  Venk nodded. “Well, yes, but clearly you’ve been out of that cell or else you wouldn’t have seen the hidden armory door in the king’s room. That tells me they’ve let you out before, or else you escaped. No offense, Kasnar, but I believe the former more than the latter.”

  When no comment was forthcoming from his rider, Venk turned his head to see for himself what Kasnar was doing. He was just in time to see the old man raise his hand for the impending blow. Venk cringed.