Haladras

by Michael M. Farnsworth

  “Oh?”

  “While we were in the dungeon, I called you a traitor. I thought you had betrayed us, lured us to these thieves intentionally. I know better now. I am sorry.”

  “Judging a man’s heart—who to trust and who to not—is a weighty burden. To see one’s own faults makes all the difference. You needn’t seek forgiveness from me. But such as you ask, it is given.”

  “Thank you, Lin. I hope we shall meet again one day.”

  “I suspect we shall, young prince. You may perhaps require my aid again one day. Farewell.”

  “But how did...you called me prince.”

  “Farewell,” was all Lin replied as he slowly led his paquas back into the tunnel where night always reigned.

  * * *

  Arsolon glittered below them like an unearthly mirror, reflecting the moon and stars which filled the midnight sky above the sprawling Aridus valley. It was unlike Dura Cragis. No jagged mountainside served as its foundation, but the flat floor of the valley. Where Dura Cragis commanded great height, Arsolon spread wide in all directions. Though dark, the moonlight revealed the gray outlines of its outer walls. They enclosed the city in a perfect square.

  “The utmost caution must be taken once we enter,” admonished Krom. “Tarus’ soldiers may already have control of the city. We shall go on foot from here.”

  The companions abandoned their speederbikes and descended into the valley, walking along a narrow pathway which led directly to the gates of Arsolon. They found the gates shut tight and the porter asleep at his post. The porter was a round-bellied fellow with short beard and bald pate. Dangling from the end of his hooked forefinger was a small earthenware jug. The man had evidently been drinking.

  “I’m willing to wager,” said Endrick, “that we’ll find Arsolon friendlier that Dura Cragis. Shall we wake the drunken laggard?”

  Krom approached the slumbering porter and shook him briskly on the shoulder. The porter slept on, snoring raucously. Again Krom shook, this time more vigorously. The porter merely snorted and let his head fall to one side.

  “You’re going about it all wrong,” said Endrick, pushing Krom aside. “Here, let me show you.”

  Endrick drew his sword and raised it above his head with both hands.

  “Endrick,” said Krom apprehensively, “don’t do anything foolish.”

  “Not to worry,” replied Endrick as he brought the flat of his sword with a loud whack across the porter’s legs. Skylar cringed at the sound.

  Instantly, the porter sat bolt upright, sputtering, coughing, and cursing all in the same breath. For several seconds he remained disoriented and unaware of the companion’s presence. In which time Endrick quietly sheathed his blade.

  “What in the...who are...how did...” stuttered the porter, trying to rise to his feet with this smarting legs and inebriated brain. “Who are you?” he managed to spit out at last.

  “Travelers,” said Krom. “We desire to rest in your fair city for the night.”

  “Travelers, eh?” replied the porter dubiously. He eyed them all with suspicion. Something about Krom’s response had sobered him up in a hurry. “Few dare to travel the roads at night. Thieves and robbers plague these parts. Got any weapons?”

  “Only swords,” answered Krom.

  “Swords?” cried the porter. “What’s you gonna do with those? Shave your beard?”

  The man let out a roar a self-congratulating laughter and slapped Krom on the back.

  “Just don’t cause any trouble in my city, now.”

  That was the end of the interview. The porter opened the gate and let them enter.

  “You’d think with Madrick and his band about,” said Skylar after they were out of earshot, that they’d be more careful with who they let in.”

  “I suspect Madrick has his own way of getting into the city,” said Lasseter. “And it doesn’t involve the gates.”

  The companions made their way through the dark streets. Krom seemed to know his way around. They stopped at an inn. The Blue Star read a weathered signboard above the door. Foggy windows glowed orange from the firelight within and the sound of gay laughter and merrymaking invited them to come in, shake off their weariness and escape the cold, dark streets.

  “I go to request an audience with Lord Denovyn immediately,” said Krom. “He must be warned about Morvath. Endrick, go to the port and charter a ship to take us to Allega. We shall leave at first light tomorrow. Lasseter and Skylar, you shall stay here and secure our lodgings for the night. Sup, rest, and wait for Endrick and me to return. Should I fail to return before morning, leave without me. Do you understand, Skylar?”

  Skylar looked Krom squarely in the eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

  In his heart he committed himself to that promise. The last time he’d failed to follow directions, one of his companions had lost his life.

  Krom nodded curtly. Satisfied, he turned and strode swiftly away. Skylar watched him until Krom was no more than a black shape that melded into the shadows along the street’s edge.

  “Well, I guess you two are the only ones eating tonight,” said Endrick forlornly. “All the same, save me some mutton.”

  With that, he turned and set off languidly up the street. Alone, Lasseter and Skylar entered the Blue Star. Inside, the inn was every bit as warm and merry as it promised to be from without. The cozy blaze of the dining hall’s fireplace quickly warmed Skylar’s numb fingers and nose. The smell of cooked onions, fried ham and baked bread tantalized his nose and set his mouth watering. The inn’s tavern was as alive with people as it was with warm and delicious smells. Tight huddles of gregarious drinkers crowded about the pub, from which room-shaking bursts of laughter perpetually erupted. Along the main floor, most of the tables were occupied with one or more patrons. Skylar felt as if they’d stepped into a different world; the whole scene was such a stark contrast from his experiences since leaving Haladras.

  Lasseter led them to a far booth, in the corner. A few merrymakers glanced at them as they passed. But mostly the crowd ignored the two strangers with cowled faces. A dark-haired waitress with rosy skin came to their booth.

  “What’s your pleasure this evening, my shrouded strangers?” she said, smiling impishly. She was the first woman Skylar had seen for what felt like months. Though obviously younger, with her long hair pulled back and her warm smile beaming down at him, she reminded him of his own mother. Her very look and manner seemed to exude that nurturing kindness of which all females seem naturally disposed. Suddenly he felt much younger than he had since their adventures began.

  Hesitantly, Skylar pulled back the hood from his face.

  “Ah, there is a face under there,” she exclaimed. “And a lad, too. You look far away from home, lamb. What brings you to my inn on such a cold night?”

  He paused awkwardly, like he had when Kendyl had first talked to him, but this time for a different reason. He looked to Lasseter for help.

  “We’ll need food and lodging for the night,” said Lasseter, entirely ignoring the waitress’ question. “We have two other companions who will join us later. They will be dining with us.”

  “As you wish, gentlemen,” she replied, as she winked and smiled at Skylar. Then she turned and sailed off to the kitchen.

  Within a quarter of an hour, she returned with arms brimming. Dexterously, she laid out the meal in front of them. Roast mutton, rabbit stew, mincemeat pie, fried potatoes, aged cheese, ramsberry pudding, butter and bread. A veritable feast to Skylar’s eyes.

  “If you get hungry for more, lamb,” said the waitress as she place her hand on her hip and cocked it to one side, “there’s a slice of Boldúrin pie with you name on it in the kitchen.”

  “Thank you,” stammered Skylar, as she shuffled back to the kitchen, long skirt swaying like reeds in the wind.

  “I think you have an admirer,” said Lasseter when she was gone.

  Skylar’s face flushed.

  “She’s too old,” said Skylar unconvincingly. �
��Besides, she reminds me of being back home, with mother.”

  He paused, staring blankly down at the table, strewn with the hot supper.

  “I wonder how she is,” he said at last.

  “Doubtless she misses you, perhaps more than you can know. But she is safe, I believe. You can console yourself in that regard.”

  Skylar only nodded. Not for anything would he wish for her to be put in danger. He wondered if he would ever see her again; if it would ever be safe enough; if he would ever stop running.

  “I was foolish to think that I could go back. What if Morvath had tried to get to me through her?”

  “Yes, that could have very well happened. Morvath would—”

  Lasseter cut off. A sudden commotion toward the front of the tavern had caught his attention. Skylar turned round to see a man with gray hair swarmed by twenty or more people, his arms gesticulating wildly and high voice shouting.

  “I tell you, I saw them,” he asserted. “First I hears them—buzzing quietly—then I sees them. A hundred…two hundred. Then a prick on me neck. Right here. See? Then they’re gone. They’re here, I tell ya. Here in Arsolon.”

  Mad shouts of incredulity followed, but Skylar heard no more. He turned back to Lasseter, fear in his eyes.

  “Ill tidings,” was all his uncle replied.

  No more than an hour passed before Endrick appeared back at the inn. His face was ashen and his eyes looked troubled as he sat down next to Skylar in the booth. In a low anxious voice he said, “Morvath...he’s in the city.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “YOU ARE CERTAIN he is here?” said Lasseter, concern apparent in his voice. “Where did you see him?”

  “I didn’t see him,” said Endrick, shuddering. “Brrr, I’m glad of that. I saw his ship in the hangar. There was no mistaking it. The thing looks as menacing as its master.”

  “Indeed,” replied Lasseter, rubbing his short beard meditatively, “One of the citizens was in here earlier raving about the trackers. He claims he was stung right here in Arsolon.”

  “The trackers, too!”

  “Did you secure a ship?”

  Endrick nodded. “If you can call it a ship. But I suppose it will have to do.”

  “Let us pray Krom is passenger on it come the morrow.”

  “If he isn’t,” replied Endrick, “I’m eating his breakfast.”

  The three companions went to bed that night without word or sign from Krom. Skylar found it difficult to sleep; his mind swirled with thoughts of Morvath, the dreaded mechanical insects, and his concern for Krom. The number of his companions was dwindling. First Grim. Now Krom. Could Krom be dead, too? The possibility haunted him. Only after several hours of lying on his cot, did he finally fall into a fitful sleep.

  The next morning, he awoke feeling as anxious and unrested as he had before he fell asleep. Still no sign of Krom. Silently, as if in observance of Krom’s death, the three remaining companions packed their belongings, ate a hurried breakfast, and set off on foot for the port.

  “It’s just on the southern edge of the city,” said Endrick. “We’ll be there shortly.”

  It was news that both comforted and distressed Skylar. For at every turn he expected—he hoped—to see Krom. And at any second he expected to hear that awful buzzing of the Trackers coming after him.

  They had not been walking long when Lasseter whispered from behind, “we are being followed. Increase you speed, but do not run or look back.”

  Endrick and Skylar obeyed these orders. Skylar’s didn’t think his legs could walk any faster. Yet it felt as if they were moving in slow motion. If only we all had jetwings.

  “They are getting closer.” warned Lasseter. “Faster.”

  Calves burnings, Skylar forced his legs to increase their stride. Who could be following them? Could it be Morvath? Perhaps more of his special servants? The thought chilled his bones quicker than the frosty morning air.

  They rounded a corner and Skylar saw the port come into view. They could make it. It seemed within arm’s reach, and yet unreachable. He wanted to run. Closer, closer they came.

  Suddenly, from out of a side alley, the shapes of half-a-dozen men stepped out into the street, barring their way. Endrick moved to go around them, but the men spread out like the jaws of a trap to catch them. The companions halted.

  “Kindly let us pass,” said Endrick forcefully. “We have much haste this morning.”

  More footsteps sounded in Skylar’s ear from behind. Whoever had been following the companions had caught up. They were surrounded and outnumbered severely.

  “We’ll let you pass just as soon as you give us what we want,” said one who appeared to be their leader. “It wasn’t courteous of you to snub my hospitality last night and injure my men.”

  Skylar started.

  The man drew back his hood to reveal his face. Madrick.

  The leader of thieves sneered at the companions triumphantly, his dark eyes full of malice.

  “What then? Did you think I would not find you? I am not so easily duped.”

  Then he added, noticing Krom’s absence. “You have lost one. But it is no matter.”

  “Let us pass, Madrick,” demanded Lasseter, his voice filled with authority. “You have no quarrel with us.”

  Madrick’s eyes narrowed, the sides of his mouth turned up in a malignant smile.

  “You are right. I seek no quarrel—only the boy. Give him up, and you two may go free.”

  Lasseter moved protectively in front of Skylar.

  “The boy is of no consequence. Let him alone.”

  “No consequence? Oh, I think you will find there is one who disagrees with that. One with power is searching for a lad like this one. A handsome reward he’s offered, and even favors from the empire.”

  “Do not be a fool,” said Lasseter coldly. “Do you believe Morvath will lavish favors and blessing upon the heads of outlaws? He may sustain you now, but in the end your death shall come to you at his command.”

  “I’ll take my chances. Now, give us the boy or you’ll meet your own deaths.”

  In one swift motion Lasseter swept back the folds of his cloak, drew out his sword, thrust out, and stopped just before piercing Madrick’s throat.

  “On your own death, Madrick,” growled Lasseter with a passion Skylar never beheld in his uncle.

  Madrick struck at Lasseter’s blade with his forearm just as Lasseter drove it forward. The sword tore his skin, but missed its mark. Hunched and clasping his throat with his hand, Madrick scurried to safety away from Lasseter.

  “Get down!” shouted Lasseter to Skylar as he and Endrick transformed into two lethal blades twirling like whirwinds in the air. The two bandits closest to Lasseter and Endrick went down before they could lift their weapons. The others moved quickly, though. Two of Madrick’s band leapt upon Endrick. One grabbed him from behind while the other slashed his arm with a dagger. Endrick cried out in pain, but managed to knock his assailant across the face with the pommel of his sword.

  Skylar moved to attack the bandit on Endrick’s back. Several strong hands seized him as he did so, pulling him away from his companions. He fought furiously, but to no avail. Madrick was shouting orders.

  “The boy—get the boy!”

  They were dragging Skylar away. All he could do was watch helplessly as Lasseter and Endrick fought the bandits, outnumbered, three-to-one. They fought boldly, but they were clearly out matched.

  Lasseter knocked one bandit to the ground, then countered the attacks of the other two, striking a blow that felled another dead. It was then that Lasseter looked up to discover Skylar being dragged away. In desperation, he pounded at his last standing opponent with such a wild fury that the bandit went flying to the dirt. Then Lasseter turned and bounded after Skylar. No sooner had he taken two strides than the third bandit sprang forward from the ground and buried the blade of his dagger into the back of Lasseter’s lower leg. With an anguished cry, Lasseter collapsed to his knees, but swiftl
y twisted round, and brought his elbow crashing into the bandit’s nose. Lasseter attempted to regain his feet; again his leg faltered and gave out. Emboldened by Lasseter’s wound, the bandit charged at him, knocking him flat on the ground. Then he raised his dagger to strike.

  “No!” cried Skylar.

  It was useless. There was nothing he could do. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the planets and stars in the galaxy all revolving around the blood-stained tip of that blade.

  Suddenly the bandit cried out and fell over, dead.

  “Halt! Drop your weapons” commanded a loud voice.

  Skylar looked up. City guards! A whole troop of them came storming onto the scene, blasters in arms, their bright armor glinting in the early morning light. At the sight of the soldiers Madrick and his men scattered like frightened rats into the alleyways and side streets. Skylar’s captors instantly let go of his arms and he hit the ground hard. Several soldiers dashed past him in close pursuit of the bandits.

  Lasseter, Endrick and Skylar were all arrested. Three men lay dead upon the dusty streets of Arsolon. The captain of the guards would not hear of letting anyone involved go free.

  “You shall present your case before Lord Denovyn. Save your pleas for him.”

  The guards shackled the companions’ hands and then ushered them into the back of an armored transport meant for prisoners.

  Both Lasseter and Endrick were wounded and bleeding badly. As best he could with his shackled hands, Lasseter tore off a piece of cloth from the hem of his tunic and pressed it firmly against Endrick’s arm.

  “Don’t bother about me,” said Endrick. “Never liked that arm much, anyway.”

  It was a weak protest and Lasseter ignored it, for the wound was deep.

  “We need to staunch the bleeding. Later we’ll worry about applying medicines and dressing it.”

  “If there is a later,” replied Endrick sourly. “These guards are taking us directly to where we don’t want to go: to Morvath.”

  “Very likely.”

  “To Morvath!” cried Skylar. “Then why didn’t we try to escape the guards? We’ve come all this way just to be caught at the last moment.”