Haladras

by Michael M. Farnsworth

  Their captors led them out of this main chamber into a tunnel. A few dark portals along the tunnel led to other chambers or tunnels. At the end of the tunnel, they entered another, smaller chamber.

  It was a better-lit chamber than the other, with several torches glowing from sconces on the blackened walls. A tidier chamber, too, with a real bed, clothed in a fine down quilt and many feather pillows. Next to this stood an oak wardrobe and desk. The subject of principle interest in that subterranean chamber was a figure, lazily reposed on a throne carved into the far wall. Before this lounging figure, the companions were made to stand.

  He was reading a small leather-bound volume, from which he did not immediately look up. The man’s dress and appearance echoed a refinement lacking in the others. He wore a white silk tunic, loosely laced at the throat; a green and gold striped vest; brown leather trousers; and tall boots. His black hair, though long, was tied neatly back. He face was clean-shaven. On his nose rested a pair of round spectacles, which he eventually removed as he closed his book and looked up at his audience.

  At first glance, the man’s face showed such a sign of indifference toward them that Skylar felt a twinge of anger.

  “Well, Boris? What have you brought me this time?” The man’s voice sounded bored and impatient.

  “Yes, Boss, yes,” sputtered the torch-bearing ruffian. “Intruders, Sir. Come’s in from the east entrance, they did.”

  The man called the Boss lifted his gaze a little, showing a hint of real interest. “By the east entrance, you say?”

  “Yes, Boss, that’s right.”

  “Any weapons?” asked the Boss, leaning forward now.

  “Aye, Sir. They carry swords.”

  Boris pulled aside Endrick’s cloak to reveal the sheathed blade hanging from his side. The Boss’s eyes flashed with eagerness.

  “Bring it to me,” he demanded

  Boris grabbed Endrick’s sword by the hilt and pulled it out, then turned and obsequiously presented it to his master. The Boss studied it for several moments before thrusting it back into Boris’ shaking hands.

  “My name is Madrick,” he said, addressing the companions for the first time. “You’ve made acquaintance with my men already. I trust they’ve treated you with the same courtesy we pay all our intruders.”

  Madrick smiled insidiously.

  “Though, admittedly, our visitors are few. They always belong to one of two groups: those seeking to unite themselves with our infamous brotherhood of thieves, and those seeking to thwart us. The latter never lives to tell a soul of their discovery.”

  He smiled again and his men let out a chorus of disquieting chuckles. Skylar’s stomach tied itself in a knot. Menace echoed from that laughter, menace and eagerness.

  “But you,” he continued, bringing the laughter to a halt with startling abruptness. “I can’t make out what group you belong to. Never has anyone come by the east passage. And never have we had a mere boy in our midst.” He pointed to Skylar as he said this and his men resumed their previous laughter. “You carry swords, but are dressed more like vagrants than warriors or noblemen.”

  Madrick stepped down from his platform and brought himself face to face with Krom. He stared Krom in the eyes, narrowing his own as if seeking to see something more. Neither Krom’s gaze nor his proud stance faltered during the wordless interview.

  “Why have you sought us?” said Madrick at last.

  “We are but travelers,” replied Krom. “We journey to Arsolon.”

  “Travelers!” ejaculated Madrick. “You expect me to believe that? Come now, I am no fool. Nor, do I believe, are you.”

  “These tunnels are the fastest and surest way through the mountains, are they not?”

  “Indeed, but few there be who know of their existence. And even fewer who dare to travel them. By your accent, I judge you are native of neither the eastern nor western province. How can you know of the Boldúrin tunnels?”

  “Our guide—he lives in the valley just east of here.”

  Madrick eyed the others. “And which one of you is this guide?”

  No one responded.

  “Well?” demanded Madrick.

  Krom turned to look down the line at Lin. Skylar and the others did likewise. It was then that they all realized Lin was not with them. Skylar looked behind them, then to his left. There was no doubt. Lin had vanished.

  “It would appear,” said Krom calmly, “that our guide has eluded your men.”

  “Good-for-nothings!” cried Madrick. “Boris, take two men and hunt down this alleged guide. Bring him to me. I want this puzzle solved.

  “Guards, disarm the prisoners and lock them in the dungeon. We shall deal with them later.”

  “And pray,” he continued, glaring hotly at Krom, “that my men find your little guide. For should I find you’ve deceived me...all the worse for you.”

  With that, Madrick turned his back to them and strutted back to this throne. Rough hands seized Skylar and hauled him back out of the chamber into the dark corridor. He was forced through a portal and dragged down a short flight of stone stairs, then tossed onto the cold stone floor of a jail cell.

  Krom, Endrick, and Lasseter were thrust inside just behind him. Endrick tripped and fell over Skylar’s body.

  “Gentle, you tunnel lovers,” cried Endrick. “No need for inhospitality.”

  Then came the squeak of the dungeon door as it closed, the ominous clank as it locked shut, and the grunts and jeers of the ruffians as they disappeared up the stairs, taking the only torch light with them. When they had gone, all that remained was silence and darkness.

  The dungeon reeked of human filth mingled with putrid flesh. A smell which burned Skylar’s nostrils, churned his stomach and made him glad of the darkness; the stench alone produced despair enough that the mere thought of seeing its source sent chills over his skin.

  Only Grim’s death had made him feel greater despair. They had that kook Lin to thank for it.

  “I’ll bet he’s in league with these louts. Probably having a good laugh about it now.”

  “Careful to judge a man, Skylar, before you command all the facts,” said Krom. “We have no reason to believe he’s betrayed us.”

  “No reason! How about the fact that he led us straight into this den of thieves? If he knew these passages so well, how come he didn’t know about these marauders? If anyone knew, he did. And how could he have escaped when the rest of us were caught so easily? He was leading the way. He would have been the first one snatched.”

  “I suggest you keep your voice down, Skylar. We don’t want—”

  “What difference does it make!” shouted Skylar, his cheeks beginning to burn from his anger. “They’re going to kill us anyway. And they’ll bring all this pointless questing to an end. Tarus may even exonerate these murderers if he ever finds out.”

  “Tarus may be pleased. Morvath I believe, will not. He wants you alive. Else the Trackers that found you on Haladras would have poisoned you. I would be surprised if Morvath has not played a hand in this band’s existence.”

  “Nor would I,” added Lasseter. “An excellent justification for replacing Lord Denovyn and bringing in a regiment of His Majesty’s Guard.”

  “Well whoever they are and whatever plans they have,” said Skylar bitterly, “there will be nothing we can do to stop them once they’ve slit our throats and fed us to the rats.”

  “In that,” responded Krom in a low tone, “I believe you are mistaken.”

  It was impossible to know how much time had passed since they were thrown into the dungeon. The occasional sound of a water drop hitting the cold floor; the scratching of rats’ feet scurrying this way and that; the faint sound of crass laughter from the main cavern: these were the only things which distinguished one moment from the next. Had the silence been as profound as the darkness, Skylar might have believed time had stopped altogether.

  Then the sound of heavy boots marching down another tunnel reached his ears. Sk
ylar caught his breath. They were coming for the execution. He knew it. The sound grew louder. He would fight. Fight to the death, he decided. His pulse quickened at the thought. Maybe one of his companions, at least, could escape. He sat with bated breath, listening, plotting.

  They didn’t take my jetwing, he realized. I’ll put it to good use—somehow.

  Then, slowly, the sound died away. Whoever it was had passed. Skylar exhaled, but continued listening intently. The muffled sound of many voices issued from the tunnel, as well as the shuffling and stamping of feet. Eruptions of laughter. Then the rumbling of many engines come to life. The sound of the engines rose, then died away gradually.

  “They’ve gone to their nightly thieving,” said Krom when all was silent. “Now is the time for our escape.”

  “Splendid,” said Endrick. “Shall we eat away the iron bars with our teeth or break them in two with our bare hands?”

  “Neither. Skylar, I trust you still have your jetwing? Madrick’s men seemed to care little about searching us for other implements.”

  “Yes, I have it. But what good will it do? I can’t fly through a stone ceiling.”

  “That’s not what I had in mind,” responded Krom, “I suspect there are yet a few guards on duty. So, we’ll need to keep as quiet as possible. We’ll need everyone’s help to make this work. Skylar, your jetwing, please.”

  Reluctantly, Skylar unclipped the jetwing from his belt and held it out in the darkness.

  “Thank you.”

  “What do you have in mind exactly, Krom?” asked Endrick. “Ram the door with our heads?”

  “We torch the lock. These jets can produce enough heat to melt that iron. We just need to hold it steady enough to direct the blast—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said a voice that made them all start and look toward the door.

  TWENTY-ONE

  THE COMPANIONS SAW nothing in the darkness. There was a faint jingle of rusty keys, followed by the rasping of the lock as it resisted turning. Then the squealing of the door as its ancient hinges were roused from slumber for the second time that day.

  “Who goes there?” demanded Krom, as if the companions were not the ones locked up in the dungeon.

  “It is but a lowly guide, come to retrieve his lost travelers.”

  Lin.

  What was he doing there? Had he come to taunt them, to deceive them more? Perhaps he’d somehow come to rescue them. Skylar’s emotions vacillated between an impossible hope and a bitter anger.

  “I’ve brought you your swords,” said Lin. “Though, I doubt you’ll need them. Only two guards are on duty. Witless fools. I slipped past them with ease.”

  “But how did you escape in the first place?” asked Skylar, making no effort to conceal the accusation in his tone.

  “No time for stories, young master. We must be clear of this tunnel before the others return.”

  “He’s right,” agreed Krom. “Direct us, Lin, and we shall follow as you command.”

  “But how do we know we can trust him?” argued Skylar. “He already betrayed us once...”

  “Fine—stay locked up in this dungeon. I shan’t make you come.”

  There was a clinking and scraping of metal as Krom, Lasseter, and Endrick took their swords from Lin. Then Lin led them quietly out of the dungeon cell and up the stairs.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Endrick whispered as he passed Skylar, “I still think the fellow’s mad.”

  Skylar stood in silence, watching the black forms of his companions follow Lin out of the dungeon. Can’t they see that this man cannot be trusted? He’ll just lead us into some other trap. Despite his feelings against Lin, he did have to admit to himself that Lin’s return surprised him. There was nothing to be done, however, except to follow.

  The two guards left on duty were sitting at the long makeshift table in the main hall, downing flagons of ale and talking loudly.

  “Two poor excuses for guards,” said Krom quietly, as they spied around the corner. “Shall we rush upon them?”

  “Aye,” said Endrick eagerly. “Then we can lock them in that foul hole they put us in.”

  “No,” objected Lin. “They may be drunk, but they’re still armed. I have a better plan.”

  When Lin had finished telling his plan, Skylar admitted that it sounded good. Still, coming from Lin, he was suspicious and urged his companions to choose a different strategy.

  “Why don’t we sneak up on them?” suggested Skylar. “In this lighting, they’d probably not notice us crawling on the floor or lurking in the shadows.”

  “Any plan is likely to succeed with those two as our opponents,” added Endrick. “No doubt this will end with them shooting one another, no matter what we do.”

  “Don’t count on it,” said Krom. “Those two were born drunk. They’re more deadly than they appear. We go with Lin’s plan. Skylar, you’ll be the bait.”

  Seeing no point in arguing further, Skylar slipped away from the others to position himself near the dungeon. The companions and Lin, meanwhile, hid themselves within the shadows of the first open portal along the main tunnel. The smell of the dungeon burned Skylar’s nostrils before he even reached the top of the stairs. He shuddered at the thought of being locked up there again.

  Mounting the steps, he drew his breath, plugged his nose, and descended about halfway to the bottom. Then he turned, cupped his hands about his mouth, and scream as loud as he could manage.

  “Help! Help! They’re going to kill me. Help!”

  This same piteous cry he continued until he was certain the guards could not ignore it. Then he ran back up the stairs and peered round the corner. At first he saw nothing. Some muffled grumbling reached his ears. Then he saw an orange light casting its light dimly on the stone floor and walls. Gradually it grew brighter until one of the guards stepped into the entryway of the tunnel, torch in hand, the other guard lumbering behind.

  The foremost guard was as big around as any tree from the Gray Forest. His footsteps thudded in time with the belches and curses issuing from his mouth. The other guard was much less giant-like.

  They were just a few steps away now. Any second they would walk straight into a trap, an ambush. Skylar envied the others for being a part of the action. Krom had probably chosen this plan because it was the least likely to put Skylar in danger. But Skylar didn’t want to be coddled anymore. If there was fighting that must be done, he wasn’t going to be sheltered from it anymore.

  This resolve came too late, though. For as he looked on, the others burst from their hiding spot. Krom and Lasseter tackled the giant, bringing him crashing to the floor. Lin and Endrick took the smaller guard. With a few swift blows to the head using the hilts of their swords both the giant and his fellow guard were rendered unconscious. It was over in an instant.

  “Let us lock them up in the dungeon,” said Krom. “This big one could wake at any moment.”

  It required the strength of all the companions to drag the limp weight of the giant across the floor, down the stairs and into the dungeon. The massive guard looked considerably less threatening as he lay unconscious and sprawled out on the floor. Skylar felt a stab of pity for this man as he looked at his rough, careworn face. This man had been young once, just like himself. Is this the life he’d dreamed about?

  “What do you suppose Madrick will do to them when he finds us gone?” asked Skylar.

  “Feed them to the rats, I hope,” said Endrick. “The only thing fellows like that are good for is rat food.”

  Skylar groaned inside at the thought. More blood on his hands.

  “Whatever happens to them, it’s out of our control,” said Krom. “We must leave, else all our lives are in peril.”

  Only Krom and Endrick were needed to move the second guard. Once both were inside, Lin closed the door with a clang and locked it. Quickly, they made their way back to the main hall.

  “The paquas are over here,” said Lin, leading them toward the far end of
the chamber. There was a recess in the wall, just large enough to serve as a kind of stable for the animals. “Your packs and supplies are still on their backs. I will help you move your gear.”

  “Move it?” said Krom. “Are we leaving the paquas, then?”

  Lin chuckled a queer little laugh.

  “The thieves will catch you before you even leave. No, you’ll want to take those.”

  He pointed toward the opposite end of the chamber, near the west exit. In the dimness, Skylar saw the unmistakable form of three speederbikes. He smiled broadly. That was his way of traveling.

  Hastily they untied their supplies and prepared to mount the speederbikes.

  “Lin, you take the lead bike,” instructed Krom. “Lasseter and I shall take the second. Skylar, you’ll ride behind Endrick on the third.”

  Skylar’s heart sank. He wanted to drive.

  “Oh, I won’t be needing one,” protested Lin. “This is where we part ways. You can’t lose your way from here. Just follow that tunnel 'til you’re out of the Boldúrins. Farewell, my secretive friends.”

  He inclined his head to the companions, turned round and walked back to where his paquas stood munching on stale hay. Skylar’s heart was stricken with remorse as he watched this strange man walk away. He ran after him.

  “Are you not worried about Madrick’s men coming after you?” he asked the hermit. “Won’t the paquas be too slow?”

  The corners of Lin’s mouth twitched slightly.

  “No, young master, you needn’t worry about me. I escaped them before. I shall do so again if they come after me.”

  Lin nodded his head, then turned back to his paquas.

  “Lin,” said Skylar abruptly. The hermit turned back. Skylar hesitated for a moment.

  “I owe you an apology,” he stammered out.