It was evident now. Krin recalled the rustling leaves and the some of the other odd sounds in the courtyard, realized that they couldn’t have come from the now deceased guard alone. And, in the flight for his life, focused as he was on escape, he simply hadn’t noticed that there had been two sets of footfalls behind him as he ran.
Krin blinked. His brain tried to make sense of the odd visage before him.
Who or… better yet, what was this person who had saved him?
The odd-looking man stood only about waist high to a full grown adult, yet his long red—crimson, not merely ginger—beard proved this was no child standing before him. He was dressed in tunic of tanned leather, and a brown wool cloak. A broad, black leather belt wrapped tightly around his petite but portly frame. He wore a black, leather eye patch that partially concealed a long scar cleaving the left side of his face. The little man beamed with pride as he looked at the fallen soldier, and then back at Krin.
“Nasty bloke, that one,” came the deep raspy voice of the little man. With his free hand, he reached deep into a hidden pocket of his cloak, withdrew a clump of what looked like rock candy, and tossed it in his bearded mouth. “Ye’d a been done in for sure if he’d a caught ye. I’d bet my eye-tooth on that.”
“Uh, thank you.” Krin wasn’t sure what else to say. He had problems enough as it was. Being charged with murder—even by association—wasn’t going to help either him or Nicholas get out of whatever intrigue they had landed themselves.
The small man looked him directly in the face.
“No need to thank me, Krin. I’m here to help ye,” the stranger said.
“You know my name? How? Who are you?”
The bearded man belched out a throaty laugh. “Yer quite an inquisitive fellow, aren’t ye?” He crunched down on the candy, then winked. “But I’ll answer yer last question first, and we’ll go on from there. Name’s Garhetnor Bliix, but friends just call me Garhet. Hence, it’s the name ye best be callin’ me too.” He laughed at this, as if he found his sentence hysterical. He continued. “I’m a friend of yer father’s.”
“Nicholas?”
The little man shrugged. “Sure, him too. I came as soon as I heard.”
Krin was confused. Him too? What did that mean?
Thousands of questions bubbled up in his head. If he knew Nicholas, why hadn’t the old priest ever mentioned him? He had never even whispered the name Garhetnor Bliix before. He was certain he would have remembered such an odd name. Was this a trick? Could he trust him? The little man had saved him, but the cold violence in which it had been carried out, sent chills down the Krin's spine. He wasn't sure if he should hug him or run as fast as he could.
The man grunted, then bent down, and slid the sleeve of the dead man’s tunic up to reveal a strange tattoo; a winged snake curling in on itself into an infinite spiral, and there was something about it that stiffened the hairs on the back of Krin's neck. He thought that its ability to elicit such a visceral response was warning enough, that it represented something immensely dark and unnatural. Garhet caught Krin’s withered stare and grunted. “Aye, lad. Fret none for this one. He’s one of the Dragon Cult scum, an assassin, no doubt, and not worth your pity.”
As if his words were explanation enough, he bent down, effortlessly scooping the soldier onto his broad shoulders, and carried him to the edge of the grove. Dropping the lifeless form into the underbrush, and dusting his stubby hands off on his leather tunic, Garhet turned to Krin. “Now, let’s see ‘bout getting into that house of yours.”
FOUR
Soladontus was thoroughly vexed. He had lost the blacksmith’s son going around the corner near the baker’s shop. The streets often played tricks on one’s eyes during the late night hours, and he was positive that the shadows had literally swallowed Justin up in one giant gulp.
It was the only explanation he could imagine. One minute, the boy was just out of arm's reach, leading him through the winding back alleys; then he was gone. Poof! No sign at all. No sign of his quarry either.
After a brief, but frantic search, he decided it best to return to his post before he was charged with dereliction of duty. He sighed. There would be no hero’s celebration for him this night, but there could be a stoning by morning if he wasn’t mindful.
Years in the Emperor's service had given Soladontus not only an athletic physique, but Herculean stamina as well, and he wasn’t even out of breath when he reached the bishop’s estate. Everything looked just as he had left it, but being one to err on the side of caution, he decided to give the property a thorough once over. Strode up to the back door, and found it securely fastened from the inside.
Satisfied with his own conscientiousness, he marched back to his post at the back courtyard gate. He didn’t notice the two shadows huddled behind the fountain as he strutted past.
***
Once Sol was safely out of earshot, Krin asked “All right, now what?”
The smaller man’s good eye swept the back and forth, searching for some idea of how to get into the house. With the soldiers stationed inside the house, and Sol now out patrolling the perimeter of the backyard, they were going to have to develop a better plan for entering unnoticed.
“I’ve no idea,” Garhet growled. “Ye sure there’s no other way into the place?”
Krin shrugged, a steady row of nervous sweat beading across his brow. “None that I can think of,” he lied. He had already pushed at least one unwelcome possibility from his mind, marking it off as either impossible. After the bizarre events that led to his entrance and subsequent escape from the prison earlier in the evening, he was beginning to suspect his initial theory about ‘blackouts’ might be too simple of an answer. Sleepwalking just couldn’t explain his sudden appearance inside or outside the prison walls. Nor could it explain the frost and ice that always accompanied these events.
Too bad I can't just…well, pop-in and out of the place. He scratched unconsciously at the silver-white goatee hanging from his chin. Or can I? If he could learn to master whatever these spells were, his job here would be a whole lot simpler. But the very thought brought an arctic chill to his bones. It was simply ludicrous. Of course, they were just that…spells. Seizures of some kind. Nothing magical. Nothing special. Just some strange malady he could not explain.
It has to be.
The bearded man shivered, and a visible swirl of air curled from his lips, and Krin tensed at the sight.
Am I doing that? What the heck is going on?
Garnet’s eyes narrowed. He cocked his head inquisitively. “Waitaminute…are you tryin’ to rift into the house?”
Krin gulped.
"Ye know," Garhet, scrunched his features together as if concentrating really hard.
He wasn’t entirely sure what ‘rift’ meant, but it seemed as though the small man was trying to bring on one of the sleepwalking spells. A concept eerily similar to the one he had just concocted in his own mind. Does he know? But how?
“I asked ye a question, lad. Are you actually tryin’ to rift?” A glimmer of wonder sparkled within the short man’s eye as the words passed through his lips.
Krin shook his head. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just thinking. That’s all.”
A tempest raged within his mind, as he considered the implications behind Garhet’s question. It just couldn’t be true. It was impossible. Just a strange spell, that’s all. But the more he denied the notion, the cooler the air around them became.
Garhet’s brow furrowed as if sensing the conflict roiling within his young companion. He waited a few beats, then shrugged. “Fine then. If ye can’t rift, then how do ye suppose we get inside?”
The air quickly warmed the moment the new question was asked. Krin sighed, relieved to tackle a more tangible issue, then pondered the question for a moment. A detail was tugging at the back of his mind. He was missing something. Something right in plain sight. The place was securely watched, inside and out—Sol in the back c
ourtyard, the drunk guard at the front door, and the soldiers taking up residence from within The windows were all either boarded up, or simply too high up to climb. There were no secret openings to sneak through. No cellar or crawl space of any kind that would lead into the house. The only way in was through either of the two main wooden doors of the house.
“I'm telling you, there’s no other way I can think of,” Krin hissed, ducking his head just as Sol passed by on another perimeter round. They were still well out of sight and shrouded in the darkness, but the guard’s constant presence was beginning to unnerve him.
A mental tug in the back of his mind struggled to arrest his attention, nudging him with a nagging feeling that a solution was just within his reach if he would only consider what was hiding in plain sight. But what is it? There’s something…a way in I’m not seeing…but what? What was it?
He glanced up at the flat, thatched roof of the three story house as he pondered their dilemma. Then, as if Zeus himself had hurled a lightning bolt down from Olympus, it hit him.
The vent flue!
The guard from the roof—the one Garhet had struck dead in the orchard--had used Nicholas’ ventilation flue as a blind to escape detection from the streets.
The flue—an object of great curiosity among the townsfolk when it was being constructed—had been designed to release noxious gasses that would build up in his study during Nicholas's frequent attempts at scientific experimentation. The room, being enclosed by four walls with no windows, had been an air tight box of death whenever the old man would start playing around with his potions and alchemical experiments. Fumes from the various concoctions would almost congeal into a miasma of noxious gas capable of killing an unwary visitor within minutes. To compensate for this, Nicholas had constructed a vertical ventilation shaft on the house’s exterior, which would pull the fumes safely out into the open air.
It emptied out directly above the workbench within the study. If I could squeeze into it—and avoid getting stuck while I'm at it—it might be just what we need! Nicholas would have never approved, of course, but Krin had done far crazier things in the past. All he would need to do, is reach the roof without being spotted by Sol, and the rest would be a piece of cake.
“Follow me.” Without waiting for Garhet to respond, Krin dashed toward the back of the house, took hold of the ivy covering the wall, and pulled. Seems strong enough.
The night’s sky was overcast, blocking out much the moon’s light, and the shroud of darkness provided excellent cover for the two shadows that skulked about the courtyard.
“Ye’ve got to be daft, boy!” Garhet whispered when he deduced Krin’s plan. “There’s no way we can get in that way.” He patted his rotund belly.
“Maybe you can’t, but I’m pretty sure that I can. I’ll be in and out before the guards even know what happened.” Krin re-gripped the ivy, and hauled himself up hand over foot to the roof. If he was heard below by the guards, they would assume it to be the roof-bound soldier that Garhet had so coldly dispatched.
Krin peered down the blackened chute, and took a cautious whiff. No acrid stench. No waves of nausea. It looked safe—except for the sheer twenty-five foot drop, and tight squeeze that looked unnervingly like the gullet of some monstrous creature.
Nervous, Krin looked down from the roof at the equally apprehensive Garhet, looking for some glimmer of hope in his new ally. The small man just looked up at him, munching on another glob of candy; impotently wringing his meaty hands. A boulder swelled in Krin’s throat. He was nervous about climbing down the flue into the den of vipers, but he knew he had no choice. If he was going to succeed in Nicholas’ task, it was the only way.
Taking one last glance at Sol, who was now relieving himself on the fence in the southeast quadrant of the property, Krin swung one leg over the ledge of the flue. The other leg followed a little more swiftly than he had intended, threatening to throw him off balance. Grabbing hold of the rim of the chute, he righted himself with as quietly as possible and breathed a tiny sigh of relief. He was all too aware that one wrong move would swiftly send him to the bottom...or somewhere in the middle if it narrowed or he could somehow lodge himself. That would end this accursed day right quick.
Exhaling, Krin lowered himself over the lip. The large stones of the flue provided stable enough hand and footholds for Krin to clamber down as easily as if it were a ladder. He was pleasantly surprised at how much room he did have to maneuver in the confined space.
Inch by inch, Krin’s lean form lowered further into the bowels of his home. The incessant buzz of the soldiers murmuring downstairs wafted up through the wall on his right. From the sound of it, he guessed an argument was heating up, but couldn’t guess the cause.
Krin smiled. This'll be easier than I thought. The argument below would mask any inadvertent noise he might while burgling his own house.
A confident smiled curled on his lips as he lowered himself down one more stone, and snap! A piece of the masonry broke off in his hand. He fell haplessly down the flue, rapidly approaching the wooden work table, and the various stoppered bottles holding who-knows-what. Instinctively, he stretched out his arms, and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact.
A rush of arctic air swept passed Krin’s face, stinging his closed eyelids with frosty finger tips. He could feel himself falling; the inescapable pull of gravity tugging at his body as he dropped.
A barrage of ear-splitting shrieks beside him, however, that alerted him that he wasn’t free falling alone. Curious, he opened his eyes a crack and peeked. A blood curdling scream escaped his throat and his eyes opened wide. He was still falling, but not within the confines of the vent flue. Somehow, he was high in the sky, higher than any mountain he had ever seen. Higher than even the clouds. It was certainly like no place on earth he had ever seen before.
The entire expanse of land below him was blanketed in the blinding white of ice and snow. The mountains in the distance were blue-purple, capped with a pristine radiance that hurt Krin’s eyes with their brilliance. Not a single speck of green olive trees or brown earth anywhere within view. Nothing but whites, blues and shades of gray, depending on the direction of maroon-hued sun.
Where in Hades am I? He winced as the wind slapped at his face with icy palms. And how in blazes did I get here?
Before he could ponder the questions any further, more screeching assaulted his eardrums. He turned in mid-air to look down at his feet; where the sound had originated His own howls and curses streamed steadily from his mouth.
Three of some of the smallest, yet most bizarre creatures he had ever seen, clung desperately to Krin’s trousers. None of them were any larger than his own hand. The beings had round, bald heads that were far too big for their bodies. Their skin had a deathly pallor of gray. What Krin guessed were their eyes, were two perfectly round black orbs. Their ears were long and pointed, poking out from the sides of their heads like razor-sharp daggers. Their mouths stretched from one side of their dome-like heads to the other. It looked as if they were open the slits too widely, their skulls might split in two. Each mouth was filled with multiple rows of jagged, shark-like teeth.
Panicked, and forgetting his own desperate plummet to the earth below, Krin kicked and twisted, trying to dislodge the toothy beasts from his leg. He gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, and gave his legs one more Herculean kick…
And found himself suddenly standing upright—his legs wobbling from adrenaline—on the now ice-covered floor of Nicholas’ study. Quickly, he glanced down at his pant legs. They appeared to be miniature monster-free, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Bending over, he patted his legs hard, hoping to smash anything that might have crawled inside his pant legs.
Nothing. They’re gone. He smiled nervously, letting out the air in his lungs with a sigh of relief. Then, he froze—his muscles locked in place—as he recalled what he had just experienced. What the heck was that? Where did I go? That was no fugue state or sle
epwalking. No dream either. He was sure of it. It had been as real as the stone floor beneath his feet right now. And it most definitely had not been anywhere in this world.
Even though his travels had been rather limited in his short seventeen year life, he instinctively knew that should he ever trek around all four corners, that harsh, icy landscape with its dark red sun would never be found anywhere in this world.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, and took another calming breath. He had been having these spells sporadically for most of his life. Up until his seventeenth birthday year or so ago, he could have counted the number of times on one hand. Then, around his birthday, the frequency increased dramatically. He had probably experienced such spells nearly eighteen times in the last month alone. Three times this very night. And never had he experienced anything like what he had endured just a moment before.
Dear Lord above, what’s happening to me? He paused at the thought, then shook his head in a low chuckle. Oh, now I’m really in trouble. I’m acting like Nicholas now. Then again, after the vision he had just seen, maybe he needed to emulate him more often.
He began to contemplate his most recent episode and questions bounced around his head like bubbles in one of Nicholas' experimental potions. What happens next time? What if I don’t can't come back? What if I go splat all over that snow-covered hellscape? A chill glazed down his spine that had nothing to do with frozen temperature in the room. Not wanting to consider the ordeal any further he thought it best to just put it out of his mind for the moment. Maybe better forever.
Shouts from below pulled him from his musings. The argument was really heating up.
Odd. It felt like I was falling for a long time. He clapped his arms around himself feeling the chill for the first time. But from the sound of things, I don't think I was gone more than a few seconds.
The Legend of the Winterking: The Crown of Nandur Page 4