Some of the villagers came out to thank us for our help. They helped us round up our horses and took them to feed them and give them water. Too tired to move much farther, we set up camp right there, on the edge of the ruined village and collapsed into a deep sleep, too tired to even set up watch.
CHAPTER 16
After the exhausting battle in the village, the group was in desperate need of rest.
But rest was not forthcoming.
With the time limit to get to Longchester still in place, along with the time lost at the village, we had to travel twice as fast as we had before. Looking around at my companions, I could see their shoulders drooping, as mine were. We were all quite literally pushing ourselves forward with every ounce of strength we had.
Aurora was the only one who didn’t wake up that morning. She remained fast asleep on her bedroll, her breaths coming and going at an even pace. We considered waking her, but Timor cautioned us against this, stating that she needed as much rest as possible. When we prepared to leave the village, Derrick had lifted her limp body and placed it seated gently on his horse, and he held her through the remainder of our journey to Longchester while she slept.
Finally, we reached our destination.
Once again, we stood on the edge of the Valley of Yaroth. The city of Longchester sat peacefully in the distance—a stark contrast to what would happen when we arrived there.
“Amazing how quiet it is,” Derrick said. “It’s almost like that place is deserted, rather than being a city full of soulless undead.”
“There’s at least one person there who has a soul,” I stated.
Derrick didn’t respond.
“Now that we’re here,” Iskandor said, “have you given any thought as to how we’re going to go about this?”
I sighed. My mind had been so focused on getting Mirabelle back that I hadn’t even begun to formulate a plan. Besides that—what possible plan could I or anyone conceive of to save Mirabelle and get us all out alive?
“Let’s just approach cautiously,” Kirra said. “Perhaps when we get closer, we can devise a plan.”
So with our only plan in place, we proceeded toward the doomed city. Aurora woke as we approached, silently examining her surroundings. I expected at any moment for the gates to open and the Ther-lor would come flooding out.
But that didn’t happen.
We got closer. Still, the air remained calm.
Finally, we were at the gates—nothing happened.
Ther-lor were watching us from the walls, staring blankly.
“They know we’re here—” Derrick stated.
“Aidan!” A welcoming voice shouted from atop the wall.
At least, it would have been welcoming if it didn’t have a whining, annoying quality to it.
“Norvin,” I replied evenly.
“My king and I have been expecting you!” Norvin said, a little too cheerfully. “Please, enter. Do not worry—the Ther-lor will not attack you. You there! Tend to their horses!”
With that, Norvin disappeared from the wall, and the gates opened. On the other side, the Ther-lor—formerly the people of Longchester—were standing crowded on both sides of the street, forming an aisle way to the center of the city.
Ten thousand men and women with obsidian skin and blood red eyes—standing perfectly still and staring silently at us.
“Well, this is creepy,” Derrick said evenly.
“No one has to come with me,” I said.
“You’re not going in alone,” Iskandor stated.
“This place very creepy. I not like it,” I heard Mishap say from Derrick pouch.
“There’s nothing for it,” Kirra said. “If we’re going to save Prissy Pants, we have no choice.”
A group of Ther-lor emerged from the gates, and a sudden pang of fear struck me, as I expected them to attack. But these Ther-lor were merely following Norvin’s orders to tend to our horses. We dismounted and stood back as the Ther-lor led them to the stables.
And so we entered the city of Longchester. We all walked straight ahead, trying not to pay attention to the undead beings that stood all around us. I watched Aurora as closely as possible, concerned for her — she seemed nervous, but was holding herself together pretty well, especially for her age.
I knew her powers were strong, but they weren’t that strong.
The entire way, the Ther-lor stood silently on both sides of the road, staring with their blood red eyes. I didn’t scare easy, but it was definitely the strangest, most frightening thing I had ever seen.
“This is straight out of my nightmares,” Derrick said. “Only there, it’s usually little bunny rabbits.”
“You’re scared of rabbits?” Kirra asked incredulously, though she didn’t take her eyes off the Ther-lor.
“Well, no,” Derrick answered. “But when they sit and stare like that, it’s actually kinda scary.”
“You’re weird,” Ceiridwen stated.
“You’re getting to know me better every minute,” Derrick said with a subdued half-grin.
In between looks at the Ther-lor, I inspected the city of Longchester. While there was nothing special about the construction of its buildings (all of the buildings were made out of the same gray blocks of stone and looked very similar to each other), the people made up for it with decoration—green and gold flags and banners bearing the national symbol (a shield with the black-and-white outline of a tiger’s face on it) were everywhere you looked. Signs for inns and shops were elaborately made and very colorful; all of these things made it easy to overlook the plain, gray buildings.
The castle, like in Alexia, was built in the middle of the city, minus the grassy field. The structure itself seemed to be wider than it was tall, yet it still managed to tower over the rest of the city. The castle walls and parapets were decorated with flags and banners much like the rest of the city; it was very clear that the people of Longchester took their pride in their country very seriously.
We continued to follow the trail the Ther-lor laid out for us, which led straight to the steps of the castle. Marion had had a throne set up right at the top of the steps, in between the pillars that lined the front the of the castle. A line of Ther-lor separated the king from us—surely a precautionary measure.
Norvin stood by Marion’s throne—I would have given anything at that point to rush up the throne and grab that weasel by the throat.
As we approached the steps leading the throne platform, Norvin announced in a loud voice, “May I present, His Majesty, the Great King Marion!”
As soon as the announcement was finished, we all got down on one knee and bowed, as was the custom when greeting a king (Kirra had to be prodded with a short elbow to the arm by Derrick to comply). I’m not sure exactly why we did this—besides the fact that we were surrounded by Ther-lor and we likely had no choice. Then we waited for the king to say that we could rise, which, in most cases, the king does almost immediately. But we waited … and waited … and waited. Very subtly, I snuck a peek at the king through the strands of my hair.
A king, of course, can do whatever he chooses to do. He can sit while greeting someone, he can stand — if he feels like standing up and dancing, he can do so. But King Marion, in his mid-to-late teenage years, dressed in a crimson red velvet robe, with a cleanly shaven head and dark, narrow, piercing eyes, slumped on his throne, his elbow on the armrest, fist to his chin, looking positively bored. He wore a large gold necklace, which seemed to be infused with emeralds.
I have no idea how long we remained on one knee with our head bowed. Finally, Norvin spoke up. “Your Majesty …”
“I’m not ready yet,” King Marion responded immediately, in a voice that reminded me of a spoiled, pampered little child.
Though we were kneeling in a rough, loose circle, I could swear that I could feel Kirra shaking with anger, about ten feet away from me. I prayed to any gods who might be listening that His Majesty hurry this up, before Kirra exploded.
Fortuna
tely, King Marion didn’t make us wait too much longer. “You may rise,” he stated pompously, rising himself off of his throne and taking a couple of steps forward in order to scrutinize us. “I was worried, Aidan—you were very close to the end of your time limit. Yet here you are, and I suppose there’s something you want back.”
“You know why—” I began, but was interrupted.
“Kneel,” Marion interrupted.
Angry and perplexed, I immediately obeyed, then started speaking again. “You know why—”
“Rise,” Marion interrupted again.
Now it was clear that the king was making me kneel and rise simply because he could; my anger was beginning to reach a fever pitch. Kirra started to take a step forward, but Iskandor lightly put a hand on her arm, stopping her.
King Marion could tell that I was getting agitated—he began to giggle. Norvin followed suit.
Laugh now, you bastards …
“Yes, Lord Aidan,” Marion said, putting a mocking emphasis on my title. “I know why you’re here.” He turned behind him. “Bring Mirabelle out.”
From the doors of the castle, two Ther-lor brought Mirabelle out. She was dressed in dirty, tattered rags, but seemed otherwise unharmed. It was clear she had cried at some point—her dirty face was streaked with tears. But she held her head high as she was brought out, proudly defiant against Marion’s intentions.
“Let her go,” I growled at Marion.
The young king just smirked at me, and evil, sinister grin that really made me want to walk up to him and rip his head off. But with a city full of Ther-lor under his thumb, that wasn’t an option.
“Awww, you want your pretty little girlfriend back?” Marion replied at as if he was talking to a baby, which only made me angrier—I clenched my fist in rage. “You know it isn’t going to be that simple, right? I brought Mirabelle here for a reason, to witness the greatness and glory that her country has risen to since her departure. I won’t be letting her go so easily.”
But right after Marion finished that sentence, his eyes widened and he smiled. “However, I might be open to working out a deal …”
I already knew that any “deal” Marion could think up was bound to be harmful to all of us. But I didn’t have any choice but to listen.
“What kind of deal?” I responded evenly.
“The Ther-lor are good for many things, but entertainment isn’t one of them,” Marion said. “If all of your friends—at once—can defeat General Norvin in a fight, then you can have Mirabelle back. Agreed?”
I was about to respond that I would happily fight Norvin myself, but Marion, seemingly sensing what I was thinking, cut me off. “All except you and Iskandor, Aidan. If either one of you make a move to get involved in the fight—” he pulled a dagger from his belt—“I will gut her where she stands.”
The sight of Marion with a dagger drawn on Mirabelle only infuriated me further. But for the sake of everyone involved, I forced my burning rage into the pit of my stomach.
On the surface, it sounded very much like Marion had just stacked the odds in our favor. In truth, however, Norvin the Super Ther-lor may well be able to handle us and more—especially with the group in the exhausted state it was in.
My soul was torn as to what I should do. My heart ached to have Mirabelle back in my arms, but my mind refused to put my friends in harm’s way.
“Let us do this, Aidan,” Kirra said in a low voice, which surprised me that she would speak first considering her relationship with Mirabelle. “We can take care of that Ther-lor weasel.”
“This isn’t your fight,” I replied, shaking my head. “It should be me fighting to get Mirabelle back.”
“That’s not what Marion wants,” Derrick said. “The sick little brat probably just wants you to watch us all die. Which won’t happen, because I’ll be happy to lop Norvin’s greasy little head off his shoulders.”
“You guys don’t know how much faster and stronger he is now,” I said. “He’s sending you into a death trap.”
Derrick put his hand to his heart. “So little faith in us, Aidan? I’m truly hurt.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that, Derrick, and you know it.”
Timor stepped forward. “What puzzles me is, if Marion wants us dead so badly, why aren’t we already dead?” He motioned all around him to the city full of Ther-lor, watching us with dead red eyes. “If he chose, we’d be swallowed up by the Ther-lor and there would be nothing we could do about it.”
I gritted my teeth. “Sick bastard probably is simply looking for amusement. I’m sure that, even if we succeed, the Ther-lor are an easy fallback plan.”
“Young king a jerk,” Mishap said from Aurora’s pouch. “Me want shoot itching arrow in middle of stupid face.”
“If anyone is thinking of attacking Marion,” Timor said, “don’t use magic. I recognize that necklace he’s wearing –it will nullify all magical effects.”
Timor’s words rolled over and over in my head as I tried to grasp the significance of that.
Ceirdiwen was suddenly fluttering in front of me. “So let us do this, Aidan. If there’s even a chance that we could succeed, then we should fight.”
It touched my heart that my friends were willing to fight for Mirabelle and I. And it made me sadder to think that they could be marching to their deaths, and I could do nothing about it.
Before I could even consider the situation further, Kirra was walking toward Marion. “We accept your challenge, you little sewer rat.”
Marion ignored the insult and turned his gaze to me. “Do we have a deal, Aidan?”
I really wanted to say no—my friends shouldn’t have been put in the middle of this. Gods above, why couldn’t they have listened to me when I said I was going myself? But they were all here now, and willing to fight for me. There was little I could do to stop them.
Besides, if I said no, then Mirabelle would be subject to more Marion’s torment.
I reluctantly nodded.
“Splendid!” Marion said, clapping his hands together. “Aidan and Iskandor, you stay where you are—Ther-lor, watch them! Everyone else, into the courtyard and let’s begin the battle!”
I stood there, helpless and seething, as my friends walked into the courtyard to face possibly the biggest threat any of them had ever seen. I was sick with worry and turmoil, afraid for their lives. Norvin was a decent fighter before, but now—he was the ultimate soldier. Faster and stronger than perhaps any of the other free beings in the world, and unable to feel pain.
I didn’t see how we could beat him.
Norvin stood at the end of the courtyard, smiling and looking very smug. My friends—Derrick, Kirra, Timor, and Ceiridwen—began to line up at the other end. Aurora was there too, looking petrified, but the others had her stay back. I could see the brownies’ heads sticking up from Aurora’s pouch—it was useless for them to be in the battle as well, as their poisoned arrows would have no effect on the Ther-lor Norvin. Derrick looked like he was ready to tear in to Norvin, while the others looked more reserved.
My gaze turned to Mirabelle, still standing at the top of the stairs in her dirty, tattered clothes. She was still determined not to show her pain, but a single tear escaped captivity and rolled down her cheek.
Norvin, grinning sinisterly, stood there with sword and shield in hand, waiting.
Something didn’t feel right about that grin.
Iskandor apparently shared my thoughts. “He’s up to something.”
I just nodded in agreement. What else could I do?
Derrick had had enough and charged in, broadsword ready, screaming a war cry. Norvin, not even in battle stance, just waited. Derrick swung his broadsword from overhead, and Norvin simply blocked it with his sword and elbowed Derrick out of the way.
And he treated it all as if Derrick were a fly to be swatted.
The second Derrick was out of the way, Kirra fired an arrow, but Norvin blocked it easily with his shield. Ceiridwen followed with an im
mediate fireball, but Norvin ducked.
Timor just stood, observing and analyzing.
Norvin began to laugh, arms outstretched. “Is that all you have? The most popular mercenary group in the entire world? You’re all pathetic!”
My hands were clenched into fists.
Derrick, clearly angry, attacked again. He got in several swings of his broadsword before Norvin knocked him aside again. Ceiridwen had fluttered in by that point and tried a bolt of pure energy, but Norvin again evaded it. Kirra fired another arrow, and Norvin blocked it again.
Suddenly Timor, who had been virtually motionless the whole time, reacted. He threw his hands out in front of him and yelled words of magic, and the stone wall behind Norvin collapsed onto him. Norvin, finally taken by surprise, struggled with the rubble, shoving giant pieces of rock off of him. Derrick attacked again, hoping to catch Norvin off-guard, but Norvin responded by shoving a piece of rock wall at him about the size of Derrick’s chest. Derrick moved to evade it, but it caught him at a glance on the shoulder and knocked him back down.
Kirra fired another arrow, and this time Norvin had no time to do anything about it. The arrow landed right in his ribcage.
Norvin acted as if a toddler had kicked him in the shin.
He stood up, brushed tiny pieces of rubble off him, yanked the arrow from his side and discarded it. He didn’t show any sign of pain at all.
Then he smiled.
Marion was cackling with glee.
I wanted nothing more than to get my hands on Norvin at that point and tear him limb from limb.
But even as I thought that, another thought suddenly occurred to me.
I leaned over to Iskandor. “Are you wondering the same thing I am?”
“Why Norvin isn’t trying to kill them?” Iskandor responded. “Why he hasn’t once tried an offensive attack? Yes. One might assume that he’s simply toying with them, but I cannot help but believe that something else is in play here.”
Norvin began to stroll to the center of the courtyard, laughing. Derrick and the others looked dejected, clearly wondering how they could possibly win this fight.
The Treachery Of A Weasel Page 17