Floreskand_King

by Morton Faulkner

  At sector twenty-three, Aeleg’s group entered the underground water-system that ran parallel with the canal. Led by Vamir Wei, they traversed the narrow walkways, and finally emerged from a manhole in the mandunron part of sector eleven.

  Once above-ground, they moved in groups of four or five so they wouldn’t excite comment or suspicion. All the way to sector twelve, they were not bothered by any troops. All but Vamir Wei carried a shortsword, hidding in their civilian clothing.

  Vamir Wei indicated ahead of them a low long building. “That’s it, designed for the water treatment and distribution.”

  Pipes snaked out of this building towards the canal and the moat. “Here, you will enter the water supply system that has access to the Old City.”

  Vamir Wei approached the man on the gate and cleared access for Aeleg and his men. They entered; the place echoed since there was no furniture, carpeting or curtains. Vamir Wei led them down a flight of stairs that seemed to go on for an eternity, though it was doubtless his nerves, Aeleg thought.

  Heart in mouth, he tagged on behind Vamir Wei, seemingly into the bowels of the earth.

  A clinging mustiness permeated the very air.

  They stalked over the smooth rock surface that served as a walkway.

  As they moved along, an insistent noise impinged. “What’s that sound?” Aeleg asked.

  Wei pointed. “The underground teen, it’s just over there!”

  “And if we follow it we should be directly under the Old City?”

  “Eventually, yes.”

  ***

  The royal palace, Lornwater

  Flanked by palace guards, Sarosen and Jikkos sat on their thrones as Captain Bayuan Aco entered.

  “You summoned me, sire?” Bayuan Aco said, saluting.

  “I did. The status between the rebels and our troops has been static of late, don’t you agree?”

  “It has, sire. I believe that Nemond Thand will make a full scale attack soon.”

  “My thoughts exactly, Captain. I would like to thwart him, however.”

  “How would you do that, sire?”

  “Make arrangments to attack the Red Tellar Inn – their headquarters. That should upset them, don’t you think?”

  “I – I – yes, of course, sire. I will make the arrangements!”

  “Start the attack tomorrow at dawn. Surprise them!”

  “At dawn. Aye, sire!”

  When the captain had left to do his bidding, Saurosen stood, took his wife’s hand. “It is time, my dear,” he whispered, mindful of the close proximity of the palace guards.

  “Time, Sauri?”

  Lips to her ear, he said, “We will do the unexpected … and escape!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  AELEG

  “It surfaced at last, without benefit of teeth or eyes.

  Its enormous pink jaws dripped with thick streamers of mud.

  Its cavernous throat could easily accommodate Ulran’s head.

  It was a thick, broad yet sinuous creature, spurting mud and air

  out of two black bulbous nostrils beneath the mouth.”

  – The Annals of Floreskand, Book I, Chapter 15: Irrea

  Third Durin of Darous

  Endawn

  At dawn, members of a caravan loaded their tents and equipment and set out from Endawn, bound for Arisa; its original destination had been Lornwater, but that had changed once the Saurosen edict was issued. Its produce was varied and much sought-after; gold trinkets, fabrics, jewellery, food delicacies, and even dried fish and sediment from Taalland.

  Since its creation, the commercial concern had acquired an extra wagon, the oxen pair driven by a taciturn hooded man who paid for the privilege but otherwise did not communicate with anyone, even eating his food separately.

  ***

  First City, Lornwater

  Ranell stood on the rooftop, viewing the city, Nemond Thand beside him. His brow creased as a strange insistent sensation of foreboding entered his mind. He ran his hands over his face. It didn’t feel anything like that psychic attack he’d experienced. No, he glimpsed a brief yet alarming hazy image of his father, mired in mud. Impossible! And then his attention was drawn by the astounded cry of “Counter-attack!”

  The Second City drawbridge lowered, the portcullis was raised and the gates opened.

  Hundreds of Saurosen troops stormed out. The soldiers comprised palace guards, too, which Ranell thought unusual, since they would normally have been left at the palace to defend the royal family. “They must be desperate!” he observed.

  “And foolish,” Nemond Thand added. “They can’t hope to beat our combined forces! Let’s get below and join our troops!”

  “This is our chance, with the drawbridge down!” Ranell exclaimed.

  Yet, the suddenness of the counter-attack was too bold, too swift.

  Within a short time, the onrush of Saurosen troops seemed implacable, driving the rebels back.

  Before long, Ranell and many others were barricaded in the Red Tellar Inn, the building guarded by a circle of General Luascar’s steel.

  ***

  The royal palace, Lornwater

  Che-man Car the torturer lay dead on his back, like a beached whale. An axe impaled his skull directly at the demarcation line between the hairy and hairless flesh; blood glistened, like a black halo round his head.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain inflicted by Captain Bayuan Aco, Aurelan Crossis said, “You didn’t have to kill the torturer to get access to me, surely? Wouldn’t a drug have worked as well?”

  “I’ve never liked that man. He always got under my skin,” Bayuan said and proceeded to shove a needle under the skin of Aurelan’s open wound.

  “Captain!” a sentry called from the top of the stairs.

  Giving a final shove, which elicited a satisfying groan from Aurelan, Bayuan Aco turned. “What is it?”

  “Somebody to see you, sir! Says it’s urgent!”

  “Who is it?”

  A cloaked stranger moved into view at the top of the stairs. “Gildmaster Olelsang. At your service, Captain.”

  “You wish to speak to me?”

  “Yes. Speak, rather than shout. And in private.”

  “Come down, then. You can watch me at work, if you like.”

  As Olelsang descended, Bayuan Aco shouted, “That will be all, sentry!”

  “Aye, sir!”

  Olelsang faced him and shuddered at sight of the blood on Bayuan Aco’s hands.

  “Who let you in here, Gildmaster?”

  “Many of your guard are loyal to my gild.”

  “That is troubling. My men should not have split allegiance.”

  “They are loyal. They know I could not do you harm. I bring you important information.”

  “What do you want in return, Gildmaster?”

  “I want to be Master Gildmaster when you have quelled the rebellion.”

  “Is that so? Why don’t I torture the information out of you?”

  “You could, I am sure. You seem most accomplished in that art.” With distaste he eyed Aurelan Crossis. “But I believe I resist long enough. You need to act upon my information now.”

  “Very well, Gildmaster. It is of little moment to me.”

  After a brief hesitation, Olelsang said, “I trust you, Captain.”

  Holding out a bloody hand, Bayuan Aco said, “The information?”

  Flinching a little, he shook the captain’s hand. “I have learned that the rebels plan to use the water system to break into the Old City. The manderon sector.” He snatched a cloth, wiped his hand.

  Bayuan’s eyes lit up. “There’s no time to consult the king. You’re right, I must act now!” he said. “I’ll see that you get what you want, Gildmaster.”

  Olelsang smiled ingratiatingly. “I’m obliged, Captain.”

  ***

  Saurosen hurried down the spiral stone steps, his fingers entwined with Jikki’s. “Bring only what you can carry. Quickly, while the divers
ionary attack on the Red Tellar goes on!” Viewed from the tower, it had been an exciting spectacle, to see his troops storm from the city and decimate the rebels.

  “What about Fio? Can’t I bring her with me?”

  “No, my dear. She stays. We must travel light when we flee.”

  As they entered the royal bedchamber, Fio ran up to them. “Is the tide turning against the rebels, sire?”

  “Yes, indeed,” he said levelly. “Have you got somewhere you can go to? The queen and I wish to be alone.”

  “Oh… Yes, sire.” She flickered a meek smile at Jikki and left.

  While Jikki ransacked her drawers, he grabbed a pouch of jewels and looped its string round his neck, and then he snatched the Black Sword in its scabbard, fastening it to his belt. As long as he carried this, he was the king and owed allegiance! He flung a plain cloak over his shoulder to conceal his rich robes.

  “I’m ready, Sauri!” she called, waiting at the doorway. Sensibly, she’d changed into multi-hued silk pantaloons and a lace bodice; over her shoulder was slung an ornate leather bag; and she wore jewelled mocassins for a silent tread. Every finger was adorned with rings and her ankles and wrists jangled with jewellery too.

  He threw her a plaid cloak, similar to those worn by watchmen. “Wear this; it will hide your finery!”

  She clipped it over her shoulders. “We look like a pair of itinerants!”

  “That suits us fine. Now, my dear, follow me!”

  Entering the spacious marble-tiled bathroom, he rumaged in a cupboard and produced a heavy mallet. He chuckled. “I stole this from a stonemason who was working in the grounds!” Now he slammed its heavy head onto one design in the floor pattern that surrounded the huge bath. The sound echoed, while the marble cracked and crumbled. Water gushed for an instant, and then stopped.

  Kneeling, he lifted away pieces of broken marble.

  “This is a plan?” she berated.

  “Bear with me, my dear!” He heaved the last piece of slab to one side, and then reached into the gap and manipulated a handle. A groaning sound was followed by a rush of air. He gestured at the hole he’d made. “Our exit route.”

  He stepped into it and climbed down a set of stairs. Cautiously, one hand on the wall, she followed. At the bottom he found a pitch torch and lit it with sparks from flint.

  “You can be practical, when you try, my dear!” she joked.

  He peered at her in the glow of the torch, silhouetted against the light that streamed in from the hole above. She was exquisite. Pangs of guilt regarding his indiscretions gnawed briefly and then were forgotten; kings didn’t make mistakes: they did what they did.

  For a short while they descended, the torch flickering in an air-draught. “I can smell water,” she said.

  “I should hope so. It’s the manderon underground water course.”

  “You have planned well, my dear.”

  He chuckled. “I have a cache of jewels and gold put aside as well. Outside the city.”

  “What was that?” Jikki whispered urgently.

  He heard it too. Guttural sounds. Men speaking. What were they doing here?

  Grabbing her by the waist, he guided Jikki into a deep cleft in the rock wall. “Stay quiet until they’ve passed.” He concealed the torch with his body, conscious of its nearness and heat.

  Only moments later, five men in breechclouts walked past their hiding place, two of them carrying torches, all of them wielding short spears. At sight of their large noses, protruding ears, and pronounced brows that overshadowed narrow slit-eyes, Jikkos gasped. Fortunately, Saurosen clamped his free hand over her mouth before she could voice her surprise or distress.

  When they had gone, their torches no longer visible, Jikkos stepped out. “Ye gods, do you think they were Underpeople?”

  “Must be. Ugly brutes, eh?”

  She swallowed. “Yes. What do we do now? They went the same way we were heading.”

  “We follow them.” He unsheathed the Black Sword. “This is a match for any short spear.”

  On two more occasions, they almost came into contact with the Underpeople, but managed to play cat-and-mouse. Gripping the sword now, he wondered who was the mouse.

  Finally, they moved along a walkway at the side of the water course.

  After a while, the sword became heavy, so he sheathed it. He had no way to determine how long they spent following the underground teen.

  And then time stopped.

  A group of men stood at the end of the pathway. They seemed as surprised as Saurosen. Judging by their garb, they were civilians, possibly rebels intent on penetrating the Old City!

  Tenderly holding Jikki’s arm, he urged, “Stay behind me!” He unsheathed the Black Sword.

  “Hey, Aeleg, we’ve got someone who wants a fight!” yelled a rebel.

  Aeleg, he recalled faintly, wasn’t he something to do with the Red Tellar Inn?

  He lifted the sword to his lips, gave a slight bow with it. “Let us pass,” he said, “and no harm will come to any of you!”

  An outburst of laughter was his answer.

  Then a man rushed at him, brandishing a short-sword.

  A single parry, and a swift slice and the man was deprived of weapon and arm; he tumbled screaming into the rushing teen and soon floated past Saurosen and Jikki.

  “Next?” He was reasonably confident. At most, only two could fight side-by-side on the walkway. If any pair chose to fight in that manner, they would restrict each other. The next two made that ill-fated decision and quickly joined their one-armed comrade.

  Wiping his forehead with a sleeve, he peered at the rest. Nine left.

  Two more repeated the mistake of their comrades. They were better swordsmen, certainly, but couldn’t cut and slash without harming each other. Saurosen sliced off a kneecap and pierced the other’s heart with the Black Sword.

  His weapon sang in his hand. The more blood that drenched its blade, the more arcane the sound that emitted from it. Kicking the pair into the stream, Saurosen advanced on the remaining six.

  One of them threw a knife but Saurosen easily ducked and immediately rushed them. Slicing and hacking, he cut the legs from under four and slashed the throat of another. The last one was unarmed; he swung round and fled down the walkway, followed by Saurosen’s laughter.

  Four of his opponents lay on the walkway, their backs to the wall, their weapons discarded. No threat. Leaning over a corpse, he ripped off a piece of shirt and wiped the blade of his sword, and then slid it into its sheath. He turned to Jikki, signed to her. “Come on, let’s go.”

  She stood, leaning against the wall, but didn’t move or speak.

  His heart somersaulted.

  Running up to her, he saw the knife shaft protruding from her, below the collar bone. It probably wasn’t fatal, he told himself. “Come on, my dear. We’ll get that wound tended once we’re out of this place.”

  “No, my love, you must go without me. I’ll slow you down!”

  He gritted his teeth. “I will not leave you, Jikki!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  JIKKI

  “At sight of her, Ulran involuntarily flinched.

  She lurched towards him, the stink of her burnt flesh clogging the innman’s nostrils. Bones were now visible in parts. Bubbling body-fat was on her shoulders, drooling down her burned-red and branded breast. It was as though Fhord was being burned up alive from within!”

  – The Annals of Floreskand, Book I – Chapter 19: Ash

  Palace guard troops listened attentively to Captain Bayuan Aco. “I have been informed that rebels are using the water system to break in. We have a contingency plan for this kind of event. To your posts, men! Remember, the manderon sector only!”

  Disciplined and well trained, the men hurried to the palace pump house.

  Turning huge wheels over cogs, they closed certain sluice gates and opened others, according to the plan.

  ***

  Saurosen carried his wife a good distan
ce until he located an exit ladder. High above was a manhole cover. He lowered Jikki to the walkway at the base of the ladder. “I’m going to climb and lift the cover first and then come back for you. I can’t lift the cover while carrying you at the same time.”

  “No, Sauri, just go!” she insisted. “You must leave me!”

  He had climbed about ten rungs of the ladder when he was disturbed by a rushing sound in his ears.

  “What’s that?” Jikki exclaimed.

  An instant later, water gushed below him.

  “Sauri, I can’t hold on. I love you!”

  He glimpsed a limp arm dangling, jewelled rings glinting briefly, and then she was gone.

  Moments later, bodies of drowned Underpeople floated by too, and then the one called Aeleg.

  The water continued to rise up the ladder, threatening to engulf him.

  He climbed rapidly, breathing heavily, his heart breaking.

  Putting his shoulder to the cover, he heaved, straining the muscles in his calfs and back.

  It lifted off and he scrambled out.

  Replacing the heavy manhole cover with a slam, he knelt, drenched and shaken with remorse and loss.

  ***

  Saurosen recognised the trees and buildings immediately. He had emerged in Kcarran Square in the Second City.

  Despite his wet, bedraggled appearance, nobody paid much attention to him. As Jikki had said, he resembled an itinerant, not a king. Besides, most eyes were on the city walls and the sound of clashing swords and the zithering of arrows in flight.

  Trailing water behind him, he stumbled to the manderon gate of the Old City, surprising the sentries.

  He was the king and no explanation was required.

  He made his way back to the palace, heavy of heart.

  When he entered his chambers, Fio rushed to him, distressed by his appearance. “Sire, what happened?”

  “Lost – lost her…”

  “Sire,” Fio whispered in a fearful tone, “where is the queen?”

  “Dead. She drowned.” Unthinking, he clasped her to him and wept, and Fio cried with him.

  ***

  Captain Bayuan Aco soon learned of the tragedy and quickly realised that his actions had almost drowned the king but had definitely killed the queen.