The Pain of Compassion

by Roland Boykin

  Sebastian awkwardly patted her on the back and let her cry. This was unlike the Emma he knew, and he wondered what could have scared her so. She began to pull away with only an occasional sniffle, and he carefully lifted her onto the bed. Not caring how silly it looked, he pulled over one of the chairs and sat on it.

  “Talk to me, little one. Listening I be.”

  “Miserable, hairy beast,” she grumbled. “Why do you have to be so loyal? And don’t call me ‘little one’.”

  The ogre’s expression never changed as he waited for her to wind down. They had been partners so long; he knew she would have to overcome her fear before speaking.

  “Who frightened you, Em?”

  Eyes wide, she stared at Sebastian and tried to speak. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed shut her eyes and whispered, “Scorpious.”

  The ogre jerked forward, the groaning of the chair masked by the snarl that rumbled past bared fangs. Barely able to form words, he rose up and towered over her. “Dark Lord, here?”

  Raising her hands defensively, she shook her head. “No, no. Only his voice!”

  Confused, Sebastian collapsed back on the chair which creaked ominously. “Voice?”

  Emma hurried to explain. “The Duke has a secret room in his office. When he opened the hidden door, the evil that poured out made me ill, and I dared not enter. However, even with the door shut, I could just hear their voices through the tiny crack.”

  Shivering, she hugged herself, eyes locked on the ogre’s. “Sebastian, Scorpious sounds just like his brother, the Ancient One, except his words are like honey covered in fire. When the Duke mentioned your name, the Dark Lord’s hate drove me to the floor. He ordered the Duke to kill you, or his life would be forfeit. I barely got out of the way when the Duke crawled out of that room.”

  “Kill me? How?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is he is sending someone to watch your every move, but I don’t know why.”

  Sebastian sat motionless for a long time, calming himself and mulling over what Emma had told him.

  She slid off the bed, poured a glass of wine for each of them, and after handing one to the ogre, downed hers in a single gulp. Looking out the window, she continued with the rest of what she’d heard.

  “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I let my fear control me. As much as I hate to admit it, you’re right. We must stay and help fight this evil. I heard Scorpious call him, ‘my would-be King’, so our assumptions were correct. How we are going to fight so many of the Duke’s men, I don’t know.”

  The chair finally gave up the fight as Sebastian heaved himself up; ignoring the pieces left behind, he moved to stand behind her.

  “We are forewarned and have you to thank. You must find this watcher, and it will be up to us to make sure they see only what we want them to see.” He turned her away from the window, and continued, “If the Duke be planning on being King, the Royal Family is in danger, and we must warn Prince Mathias before he arrives tonight. If the watcher already out there be, we don’t want them seeing the Prince.”

  A knock at the door sent Emma into the shadows while Sebastian moved to stand by it, hand on his sword. “Who’s there?”

  “Poppie, Sir Ogre!”

  Sebastian jerked open the door and grabbed the young man by the arm, almost lifting him off his feet as he pulled him inside. Emma appeared beside them.

  “Cousin, we are being watched, but don’t know where and by whom. Quickly now, we must find Mathias and warn him before he arrives.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. You can share what you’ve learned later,” she ordered, pushing him out the door.

  Once in the hall, the young man called out, “You can count on Poppie!” and left the inn, confident Emma was right behind.

  ***

  “By the Eyes!” Mathias cursed and slammed his fist against the stone. “Many lives may be lost if we cannot find a way to open this door.”

  Between his eyes adjusting to the darkness, and the faint light that trickled past the jammed door, he could see his friend sitting on the floor. “What are you doing down there?”

  “The strikers on these lanterns are broken. That’s why they were left on the lower level. If I can fix one of them, we won’t have to stumble around in the dark.”

  A little envious of his friend’s knowledge of so many different things, the Prince busied himself running his fingers around the edge of the door. There must be something holding it closed. He had already thought of a number of men outside the Palace he could count on to sneak inside and help him protect his family. Trying to get them inside any other way would be next to impossible.

  Rafael grumbled a curse as one of the lanterns flared to life, and he stood sucking on a finger. “Well, that wasn’t what I had planned, but it worked.”

  “Sometimes you scare me,” Mathias joked, shielding his eyes from what looked like a bonfire after the darkness. “Bring your light over here, wonder boy. I felt something between the door and the wall here at the bottom.”

  Rafael dropped back to his hands and knees, held the lantern up and peered into the crack. “Just as I suspected. It’s a knife blade, and a poor one judging by the amount of rust. It was probably jammed in higher up and then fell as the rust ate away at the metal.”

  He set the lantern out of the way and leaned against the door. “Come on. Help me push the door closed. If we can fish that blade out, the door should open.”

  At first nothing happened, but with their combined weight it finally jerked back into place. Mathias pulled his knife and got down on his knees this time, trying to reach the rusty blade. After several minutes of reaching and scratching, he sat down and sighed. “It’s no use. It must have moved with the door and is now out of reach. We need something longer.”

  “What about that old sword?”

  “It’s probably too thick, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. I don’t think our bony friend is going to care.”

  Rafael reached down and carefully worked the sword out from under the pile of bones. Straightening, he stopped and stared, then ran his hands reverently over the intricately formed and jeweled hilt. Words of wonder passed his lips in a whisper.

  Curious, the Prince got up and joined him. “What is it?”

  Rafael turned to his friend, excitement and awe dancing in his eyes. “Mathias, I’ve seen a drawing of this sword in the history books! It’s a Deluti sword, and the only one known to have been gifted to a human monarch. I don’t remember the name as that was during the Deluti War, but I’m sure I can find it again.”

  “That’s interesting, Rafael, but will it work to free the door?”

  Rafael sighed, a hint of disappointment shading his voice. “You don’t give a whit about history, do you?”

  The Prince shrugged and turned back to the door. “Right now, it is the future that concerns me. The past will still be there when we have time to study it. Hand me the sword, please.”

  The slender blade fit easily into the gap, and Mathias made short work of pushing the rusted knife out of the way. He handed the sword back, motioned his friend to douse the lantern once again, and pushed on the door. It opened smoothly.

  Latched fully open, both men peered cautiously out into the gloom. Rafael turned to his friend, his eyes full of wonder. “Do you know where we are?”

  Mathias returned his smile. “It’s the blind alley behind the Palace where we used to hide as children. Now we know why it doesn’t go anywhere.” Searching for a way to remember the location of the door in the featureless wall, he noticed a worn symbol etched into the stone at its base. “This is perfect. You can go home from here, and I can go to my meeting without having to sneak back through the Palace. Leave the lantern and the sword and close the door.”

  “But…”

  “Think, Rafael. How far will you get on the streets of New Bratan carrying a sword like that? And what if the servants or your father see you?” He laid a hand on Raf
ael’s shoulder and reassured him. “I promise, in the morning I will return, retrieve the sword and hide it in my quarters for safe keeping.”

  Reluctantly, and with great care, the young historian placed the sword on top of the pile of bones and released the latch. The door shut smoothly. He hurried to the entrance of the alley, peered around the corner, waved and then disappeared.

  Mathias took his time, waiting and listening for footsteps that might indicate someone following his friend. Patience exhausted, he stepped out and hurried on toward the inn. Halfway there, a small figure detached from the shadows and beckoned. Hand on his knife, he followed the shadow into the narrow space between two buildings. The little man lowered his hood. He looked like Poppie, but spoke like Roll.

  “Prince Mathias,” he whispered. “The Duke set someone to watch Sebastian. If you wish not to be seen, put on this cloak and raise the hood. The watcher is sitting in a corner of the common room with a view of the stairs.”

  Donning the cloak, the Prince followed him back out into the street. They were met at the back door of the inn by Aaron, the innkeeper, who led them through the kitchen. At the door leading into the common room, he bid them wait.

  Aaron confronted a bored looking young man sitting at a corner table, blocking his view. Roll tugged on Mathias’s hand, and they hurried up the stairs where he knocked a discreet pattern on Sebastian’s door. It quickly opened and they slipped inside.

  The somber mood inside drained away the Prince’s excitement over sharing his good news. The ogre sat on the floor while Emma picked pieces of wood up off the floor. Accepting a glass of wine from Roll, Mathias sat on the remaining chair and asked quietly, “What have you learned?”

  Emma threw down the broken pieces, kicked them under the bed and faced the Prince, her eyes aflame. “Duke d’Lorange has a hidden portal of some kind in his office where he can speak directly to Scorpious, the Dark Lord. The evil and hate emanating from there is being felt throughout the city. He has definite plans for becoming King, and I can only imagine he plans on using force to accomplish it.”

  She stopped and turned away, the muscles in her jaw tightening. With a sigh, she continued. “What’s more, the Scarred Mage ordered Sebastian’s death. If the Duke fails, he forfeits his own life. That is why the watchers both inside and out.”

  Roll stood next to his cousin and quietly added, “I’m afraid my news isn’t much better. The Navy has been loading troops from the local garrison onto ships and leaving port.”

  “Leaving only men loyal to the Duke here in the city and Palace,” Mathias guessed. “At least I have some good news. Rafael and I found the escape tunnel in the lower levels along with the remains of someone who died there around the time of the Deluti War. The question is, do we smuggle people in or out?”

  He stood to leave and faced the ogre. “Either way, friend ogre, with only the few men I know I can trust, some of us will not survive what is coming.”

  “Have faith, young human,” Sebastian told him. “Good always seems to find a way. Something will come along; we just need to be ready.”

  The Prince turned to the door and beckoned the cousins to join him. “Come, I’ll show you where the door to the tunnel is located in case something happens to me.”

  At the door he stopped and turned back to the ogre. “I almost forgot, Sebastian. Rafael wishes to speak with you and I promised I would ask.”

  “And who is this Rafael?”

  “My best friend since childhood who spends his time reading history books, and… he is the Duke’s son.”

  The ogre stood and looked down at the Prince, their eyes met. “Do you trust him?”

  Unflinching, Mathias answered. “With my life.”

  “Very well. I assume his father would not approve, so we will meet tomorrow night in secret.”

  And with that, Sebastian was left alone once again to ponder their fate.

  Chapter Twenty ~ A Deluti Arrives

  Gilfor chuckled quietly at the situation he found himself in. Here he was, doing the same thing that drove him away from home over a year ago, mucking out stalls and caring for animals. At least these were the royal stables inside the Rose Palace, and he was here for a special reason. Master Horshall wanted someone near who was loyal and could be counted on.

  For the first time in his life, Gilfor felt good about himself. Not only had he accomplished the charge set before him by Princess Sofia, the old arms-master had been impressed with his resourcefulness and taken the guardsman under his wing. Master Horshall showed him the secret passages that intersected the Palace, and had begun teaching him how to defend himself with whatever was at hand. He hoped someday to wield a staff as well as the arms-master.

  Maybe it wasn’t as glamorous as parading around in a shiny uniform, but he understood his new position was just as important, if not more so. He had determined to do everything asked of him, to the best of his ability, for the sake of the Princess. He owed her his life. It was a little scary, though, being a secret player in the vicious game of power between those above him.

  Unable to sleep, worried about a terrible sore on the foreleg of one of his charges, Gilfor had slipped down to the stables to check on the mare. It appeared to be healing nicely with the salve the stable-master had applied. About to rise up from his inspection, he froze at the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Gilfor had learned enough by now to know someone coming to the stables this late at night wouldn’t want to be discovered. He quietly curled up in a corner of the stall and pretended sleep. The footsteps ended in the empty stall next to him, and whispered voices drifted over the separating wall.

  “She will not be happy, Eric. I don’t like this. We should have just taken the chest and run.”

  “Shut up, you fool. If she threatens us, we will kill her and then run. Just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.”

  Lighter footsteps sounded a moment later, followed by a woman’s demanding voice. “Do you have it?”

  “Yes, Highness. It’s safely hidden in the city below.”

  “Find a way to have it sent to my rooms tomorrow. What of my sister?”

  The man hesitated before answering. “Unfortunately, the Princess and the Lieutenant escaped our trap, but,” he quickly added, “They were seen by the docks in Seaside just before her ship went up in flames and sank. My contact also reported another ship left there soon after. Either they are dead or left the kingdom, and not likely to return.”

  An ominous silence followed his confession. Gilfor shuddered at the venom shading her voice when she spoke again.

  “That is not what I ordered. If she returns, you will both suffer. But I will give you one more chance. My older sister, Francine, must die, and soon. Accomplish that and you will be rewarded.”

  Her footsteps sounded again, and then paused. “Do not fail me again, Eric.”

  Long after she was gone, the other man spoke again. “You didn’t tell her what Sofia said.”

  “That’s her problem, not ours. Come, we’ve got plans to make.”

  “Wait.”

  The voices were clear, no longer blocked by the wall, and Gilfor knew they must be standing at the end of his stall. Resisting the urge to hold his breath and peek, he tried making gentle snoring noises instead.

  “It’s just some straw-head from the farm more at home sleeping in the hay than a real bed. Leave him to his dreams of fleas and horse farts,” commanded the voice belonging to Eric.

  Their voices receded as the other man argued. “We should kill him.”

  “And do what with the body, fool?”

  Gilfor lay there for a long time after they were gone and thanked the Eye of Life for protecting him. It would do no good trying to find Master Horshall at this time of night, so he would have to wait till morning. One thing he was sure of, he would never forget the sound of Princess Darnelle’s voice.

  ***

  Early the next morning, Roll left the inn and headed the short distance b
ack to the waterfront. Anything that took him farther away from the Duke’s mansion was a relief. He may not possess the same abilities as his cousin Emma, but he had special abilities of his own. All the Elder Races shared an awareness of power and evil in others. For Roll, that awareness was amplified.

  The Ancient One explained to him that all creatures affect the reality around them, some more than others. For most, the affect was minimal, but the more power a creature possessed, the easier it was to detect. Being in the presence of the Ancient One was like standing in the middle of a dream. Roll knew of two young sorcerers in the city who were probably not even aware of their gift since he’d never seen them attempt to use it.

  This heightened awareness guided him to the docks this morning just as it had led him to the Ancient One’s secret palace in the mountains so many years ago. At the head of the main pier, he froze and stared along with all those around him. Reality held its breath as a dark ship entered the harbor and cut through the water, headed directly for him.

  The young man knew nothing of ships, but there was a lethal grace to the shape and movement of this one. All was not perfect as the top of one mast leaned to one side, a yardarm hung out of position, and there was obvious damage along the rail. They had seen battle and survived. From the whispered stories he’d overheard in the local taverns, it could only be the Moon’s Shadow, a ship that had long captured the imagination of local sailors, along with respect and a little fear.

  But it was not the ship that held Roll rooted to the dock. It was the distortion of reality surrounding the Moon’s Shadow that caused it to fade in and out of his sight. A Deluti rode that ship, and buried in the aura was the weaker signature of a sorcerer. Both hope and fear paralyzed him.

  Who was this Deluti, and why were they traveling with a sorcerer? Would they be willing to help his friends, or were they here to support the Duke? Was the Ancient One aware? Thoughts of High Lord Demetrious helped calm his thoughts and make a decision. He was sent here to gather information for the High Lord, and it was up to him to determine the truth.