Ashrak and Chari also dismounted, coming to stand not too far behind the raging Duke. “They’ll be sitting in one of the high rooms listening to you,” Ashrak said, looking up to some of the upper story windows. “My father would play this game, though it didn’t earn him anything but amusement since he could have anyone killed whenever he wished. Some people would consider it fortunate to suffer this particular torture since that would mean he probably wouldn’t have something worse done to them later. Still, I’m sure whichever Lord is up there thinks this is at least as amusing, playing at being the Duke.”
Valeran snorted in anger and walked over to one of the guards, grabbing the man’s chest piece and pulling him close. “Well, I hope he enjoys having to replace these doors!” Valeran bellowed, trying to get a reaction until finally turning away from the man without getting one.
Ashrak knew the man wouldn’t respond. No matter what they did, even if they killed him, if the guardsman did anything but stand there and stare forward, his family would be tortured and killed. It was one of the most tragic if less known details about this particular game that had become common at his father’s court. Ashrak just shook his head.
“You cannot do that, Valeran,” Ashrak said as Chari came to stand next to him in front of the great, bronze doors. He looked up at them with a grim look on his face, knowing what he said was right. Slowly he let his sword slide out of its sheath. It was the sword that Aiden had made for him, just as sharp as the dagger they had used to escape from the pirate ship that seemed so long ago now. “If you force the door, as a foreign Duke, then we start off with them proving that you are my caretaker. I think I don’t want to be so kind to them. Instead, let it be me they treat with.”
With that, he stepped forward and let his blade slither through the bronze as if it were only air. He knew where the great bar was that held the door closed and smiled to himself as he heard the double clang of it falling into two halves onto the floor within. He waved forward several of Valeran’s guards and the men ran forward, pulling the doors open without difficulty.
Ellian and Nilesh came up beside Ashrak and Chari, staring at the slowly opening doors. They were clearly dumbfounded by what Ashrak had done, especially Ellian. The door bar was huge, and they couldn’t fathom how Ashrak’s sword could have cut through even a small fraction of its width. Nevertheless, there it was lying before them, the severed ends shining like polished metal.
No one had revealed themselves yet, but Ashrak could almost hear them scrambling down from the upper rooms. He grinned and looked over at Chari as he waved his sword and wiggled his eyebrows. “Effective,” Chari said as she stepped forward into the grand entranceway. “I swear, you always find a reason to cut things into smaller things.”
Ashrak shrugged, sheathing his sword and stepping in after her. “I can’t help if slicing things into smaller things is so useful.”
“Could we have found a side entrance?” Nilesh said hesitantly, bending down and touching the metal and then rubbing his fingers together.
“Yes, but it would have been the same as leaving,” Ellian said as she kicked the other bar. It moved only a few centimeters, scraping along the carved tile floor before she stepped over it. “We would have lost face.” She paused, turning toward Ashrak. “I didn’t know you had it in you to do something like this, little brother. Didn’t you always avoid confrontation? And where did you get that beautiful sword?”
“Don’t get any ideas about taking his sword,” Chari said, eyeing Ellian as she fingered her own.
“Oh? And what would you do to stop me?” Ellian sneered. “Doesn’t everyone in Terek just sit around drinking wine and being proud of how good they are to everyone?”
“If only,” Ashrak said. “I’m afraid we’ve not had the opportunity to sit around idle for quite a while, sister.”
“And I’m afraid you won’t have the opportunity anytime soon,” Nilesh said pointing upwards at the small group of people gathered at the upper stair landing. They all looked up, watching as the men and women began to descend the long stairwell arching down towards the entrance hall. “That is Count Stavix in the lead,” Nilesh said softly, “and your father’s old steward next to him.”
Ellian got an ugly look on her face and gripped one of her daggers. “Several of the steward’s men tried to kill me in a local tavern, not more than a week ago. It’s one of the reasons I sought safety with the Ambassador.”
“Too bad they didn’t succeed,” Chari smirked, “or is that just a cover story so you can sneak in and spy on us?”
“Enough,” Valeran whispered, cutting off Ellian’s angry retort. “Bickering won’t help, and both Nilesh and Lord Mendor vouch for her. Now, let’s stop arguing and focus on our hosts? It’s the least we can do after they tried to assassinate us last night and we show up all alive and everything. I’m certain it will cause some consternation, so let’s use that.”
The small group made it about halfway down the stairs before Count Stavix opened his arms in welcome, smiling grandly down at them all as if he were showering them with gold. “Welcome,” he intoned with his eyes fixed on Duke Valeran. “I hope your journey was not difficult? I understand it is quite comfortable on your vessel, the Skywitch.”
“It is,” Duke Valeran said coldly, “though she also has some teeth. I nearly considered showing them to you when we came and found the doors locked to us despite being invited.”
Lord Stavix finished descending the stairs and stopped about four meters from them, continuing to smile as if nothing was wrong. “Ah? I find that most unfortunate, Your Grace. I don’t have a clue what the guard was thinking. Did they not open the door for you?” He paused before turning toward the Steward. “Perhaps we should have them disciplined?”
The steward nodded, gesturing to several guards that had followed them down but Ashrak stepped forward. “No, you will not do anything to those guardsmen, steward. The last I heard, the Citadel was still where the Duke commanded, not the Count.”
Count Stavix paused. There was a strange gleam in his eye as he met Ashrak’s gaze for the first time. One that Ashrak didn’t like at all. “Ah, if it isn’t the wayward son of Duke Brun,” Count Stavix hissed though he still held a smile on his face. “If only your father were here, I am certain he would accommodate the guard’s lack of duty in the appropriate manner.”
Ashrak kept the man’s stare, not looking away. He was done running and no longer the terrified boy that had left Brun. “If my father were here, he would be laying on the floor with his dead eyes staring at the ceiling. Both of my brothers would also be helping him to count the ceiling tiles. Do you know what that means, Count Stavix?”
Count Stavix’s eyes narrowed and he no longer smiled. “No, Ashrak,” He said slowly and dangerously. “What does that mean?”
It means that I am the Duke, Count Stavix,” Ashrak said slowly, letting the man’s title draw out like a deadly insult. “It means I will be making the rules once the High Cleric declares my father and brothers dead, and confirms I am the last in line to inherit the throne. It also means that once I am Duke, I will be taking exception to those that chose to stand in our way.”
Count Stavix froze, and his lip twitched for a moment, but instead of snarling an insult back, the Count simply spoke. “That is the key element, though, isn’t it. The bodies must still go through the ceremony of confirmation by the High Cleric. Did you bring them today as we requested?”
“And have you bury them somewhere in the sand while claiming we held him hostage? No, Count Stavix, that would be entirely too easy of a solution,” Duke Valeran said evenly. “We came to tell you that we will hold the recognition ceremony in our camp, within sight of all of the lords that wish to view the bodies. You will be pleased to know that the invitations are being delivered to the other lords as we speak. However, I did want to deliver this one personally.”
Valeran gestured, and Lord Mendor held out an envelope, sealed with wax. The steward stepped forward,
fidgeting for a moment before taking the envelope and scurrying back towards Count Stavix’s side who took it and began reading.
“I see,” Lord Stavix said slowly, finally looking up from the message and nodding calmly. “Then it appears we have little business remaining.” He turned and began making his way back up the stairs. The steward and guards followed quickly. “I will see you, along with all of the other lords, in seven days at your camp, Duke Valeran. Since you were so capable of showing yourselves in, I will leave you to show yourselves out.”
As they left the Citadel, none of them noticed the smile that graced Count Stavix’s face.
Chapter 6
The small boy ran through the crowd like a fish in a stream. His wide-eyed gaze spying out the most likely route through moving bodies, aiming for the small spaces where larger bodies bounced off of one another or their movements allowed his passage. He had done as asked, witnessing the arrival of the strangers in their odd armor and loud voices.
He still marveled at the large one that yelled up at the Citadel and even laid hands on the guard though the four men outside the gate couldn’t have stood a chance against the thirty soldiers the people had brought with them. Or against that sword!
He still couldn’t believe his eyes. He had laughed to himself when he’d seen Ashrak Brun, one of the sons of the Duke, pull his sword out. The boy had thought for sure he was going to gut the guard. It was well known that all of the Brunish nobles were vicious killers and enjoyed causing pain, but he had not. Instead, he’d cut the door itself.
Cut the door!
How had he managed that! Those great bronze doors were easily as thick as the boy's arm was long. There was no way even the most carefully ground blade should have done anything to them, but the doors had started to open, and the boy saw the severed metal bar that had once held them closed.
He threw his arms in the air, excitement brimming deep in his chest as he crowed to the world. Several of the people around him glanced at him when the sharp, high-pitched voice broke through the crowd’s dull murmuring, quickly checking their purses to be sure they were safe before discounting him and moving on. Beggar children did not warrant their time, but the boy didn’t care. He was used to it, and he’d seen a magic sword!
He quickly rounded a corner, heading to an alley just off of the busy market that was in front of the Citadel. He skidded to a stop just inside the entrance, peering in. The alley was the place he had agreed to meet the old man. However, it didn’t pay just to dive into the shadows. There could be anyone here. Maybe they drove the man off or were even accosting him for any coin though the child doubted that last part. There was something about the old man that frightened him.
He squared his shoulders, clarifying to himself about being frightened. He was almost ten, so, of course, nothing really frightened him, but the strange faceplate the man wore that hid his eyes did make him a bit nervous. That and the odd sword he carried, as well as several other bulges under his covering robe. He was sure at least a few were daggers or something similar.
And then there was the staff with the strange, glowing crystal. It had drawn his eye, even as the old man spoke. So much so, that he hadn’t remembered the instructions given to him, but still followed them to the letter. He would have found it odd if someone had stopped him in the street and he would not have recalled anything other than just his need to run. That had not happened, so the boy never suspected anything odd.
No, the boy was a street urchin so did not have much opportunity to see the coveted glimmer stones that the engineers wielded in their glimmer steel creations, so he would never even have guessed that the stone shimmered in a way different from other stones. Much different.
As he stood at the mouth of the alley, he saw a figure step out from the shadows holding the same staff and gesture for him to enter. It was the old man. Good. He bounded forward with all the energy of his youth and looked up once again into that faceless mask.
And a moment later, his eyes were drawn to that crystal. Pulsing softly as its light carved into his mind and held him still. If anyone had seen it, they would have been alarmed to witness the clever, greedy look on the boy’s face suddenly drop and his features go slack and unblinking. They would have been hard pressed to differentiate the strange blue glow from the staff from that in the boys suddenly vacant eyes.
“Tell me,” Said the cold, rasping voice with the strange, clipped accent, “what you saw at the Citadel. Tell me what happened when Ashrak came to call at the gate.
To the boy, it seemed as if he spoke in his rapid, sing-song street dialect. It was somewhat strange to him that the man even understood him. Not many of those that did not grow up on the streets of Brun did, but the old man seemed to have no trouble at all. There was a small part of him that tried to warn him. No one with robes as nice as these nor a staff with such an expensive crystal on the end of it could be trusted, but that voice was stifled somehow in a blue haze.
So he spoke, describing every moment from when they marched up to the front of the gate, what they said, and finally how they entered. If anyone else had passed the alley at that moment, they would simply have seen the child and old man standing in silence.
In the end, the old man nodded and seemed to grunt at something he had decided. Reaching out, he placed a coin in the boy’s pocket since his hands were numb and unmoving. He turned to go, finally blocking the light from his staff from the boy’s eyes.
The youth blinked, and then shook his head, not realizing he had stood silent and staring for over ten minutes. To him, he’d just raced around the corner and stepped into the alley for a moment to catch his breath. Now, he was staring at the back of a robed man whose face he could not see. His robes looked rich if from the desert. He didn’t know much about the desert dwellers and thought it wise to be cautious. Still. Money was money. Perhaps he could steal something from him?
Slowly he crept forward, moving silently. The man had not been too far in front of him and seemed unaware, but as he began to reach for one of those bulges in the man’s robes with his cutting knife ready, the old man’s empty hand moved and gestured to him.
“There is a coin in your pocket, boy,” the old man said slowly. “I watched you pick it up. It will be enough for a few days of food if nothing else. Much better to eat now then laying dead in a ditch somewhere, eh?”
The boy paused, stopping and took a few steps back. He knew the man couldn’t have seen him. Maybe he heard? Either way, he was aware and that sword the man wore looked to have a long reach. Slowly he put his small hand into his pocket and pulled out the coin. It was of an odd design, but silver. Silver!
He’d not seen a silver coin since they found the dead man in that alley once. He’d been lucky and been one of the first, ripping the coin purse open and plunging his hand in seconds before other, older boys did. He barely got a few coins out between the vicious elbows and flashing knives, but he’d done it and scampered off. He’d eaten like a king for the next week because one of the coins had been silver!
Still, he didn’t remember picking it up. His eyes rose expecting to see the old man a few steps further into the darkness, but instead, there was only an empty alley. The old man was nowhere in sight, and the boy felt a chill race up and down his spine. He spun, slipping the coin back into his pocket before running out of the alley. It would not do for others to see it. If they did, he would not have it for long.
First, he had to find someplace to rest. He had a headache suddenly pounding deep within his head. Perhaps he’d dream about that blue light he seemed to recall but couldn’t quite remember. Still, the odd memory made him feel better. That and a silver coin would fill his belly tonight. He could stand a small headache.
Chapter 7
Ellian sat on the tall boulder that lay next to where the tent had burnt down, digging a dagger into an ever growing hole in the sandstone. She was watching the Brunish Lords enter through the gate of the camp, imagining each distracted swing of her a
rm plunging into one or another of them. The thought of them squirming and screaming under her blade made her smile as she twisted. It was not a friendly smile that the sun’s final ray’s revealed.
She hated all of them. Every one of those gaudy, arrogant killers had probably bathed in the blood of the people more times than she cared to count. There were some, she had to admit that she was not sure of, like Baron Chestrex, an older man with grim features. His lands were up on the northern coast, and he rarely came to the capital. There were stories that his people liked him, and he didn’t play the petty games with their lives that were so common amongst the aristocracy of Brun.
Still, he was here tonight, just like everyone else so they could witness the bodies of her father and brothers. She spit, grimacing at the thought of them. She couldn’t wait for the passage of time to dull her memories of their hard, cruel features. All three of them had deserved to die far slower than they had, and she wished she’d been there so she could have helped. She watched her spit settle and sputter on the stone next to her. She didn’t even remember spitting, but her hate ran deep.
The Glimmer Steel Saga, Boxed Set, Books 1 - 4 Page 93