Gnat gripped the Black Sword, trembling with her eyes and teeth clenched as if she might burst forth in a screaming rage and attack Goga. But then she inhaled and quieted down, sighing as her body relaxed.
She opened her eyes, and a hazel circle appeared inside her pupil once more, the white of the cornea as well. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. Now go!”
Gnat ran off with the Black Sword, leaving Nisa alone. Nisa hesitated as she turned to Goga, lying there unprotected.
“Whatever the consequences may be, no.” She moved away before Goga could wake. She’d fight him another day, when he could defend himself.
* * * *
Gnat ran back through the forest, clutching the Black Sword as sunset diminished. Goga would alert Coe Aela, leading to the discovery of the missing ‘guests’ as soon as he awoke. She wanted to show Basha he could trust her, make Janus and Nisa proud. She’d a lot to live up to.
She made it to the pool and cave and held up the Black Sword. “I got it! Now fetch your bags, I’ll help you out.”
“Thanks, Gnat!” Basha cried.
“What took so long?” Fato screeched.
“There was some difficulty, but with Nisa’s help—”
“Nisa?” Basha asked.
“Nisa, she knew about you and the Black Sword.”
“How could she know about that?”
“Is this the woman you saw at the grand banquet hall the other evening?” Monika asked.
“What woman?” Fato worried.
“I thought I saw her there, but that’s impossible! She’s back in Coe Baba, or at least she should be.” Basha said.
“She said her father told her what the Black Sword looked like.” Gnat tried to keep up with the conversation.
“Nisa doesn’t have a father!” Basha exclaimed.
“Who’s Nisa again?” Oaka asked.
“Nisa worked at the inn sometimes, Oaka, as a waitress. Her mother’s Brigga, you know her, but she isn’t married.”
“Nisa’s got to have a father, whoever he is.” Monika said. “Who could’ve known what the Black Sword looks like?”
“Probably Old Man,” Basha scoffed, then quieted.
“I don’t know what’s the matter, but she helped me by knocking out Goga, who’d taken the Black Sword. Now you’ve all got to get out before Goga revives, and sounds the alarm!” Gnat shouted.
Several bags were thrown up at Gnat at once, but she only managed to catch two before the rest fell back onto the cave floor. As soon as the others were brought up, she helped pull up the climbing group members as Fato flew overhead.
Basha grabbed the Black Sword and turned to Gnat. “Come with us.”
Oaka opened his mouth, but Monika elbowed him to stop talking. Fato watched intently.
Gnat hesitated, looking back towards Coe Aela. What if she was caught by Goga and his guards sneaking back in? They’d know, through torture, interrogation, or discovery, that she’d helped the group escape, and then they might kill her. She couldn’t know she’d escape that fate.
Janus and Nisa might be caught as well in their respective schemes, and then they’d be killed. She couldn’t know that’d happen, but what if it did? What if everything else failed, including the servants’ rebellion?
What would she do? Die alone without any friends? Slave away until her existence ended, probably at Goga’s hands? What if she could escape?
What would Janus and the others want her to do? Save herself? Die alone without them, sacrifice herself for a worthy cause, or find freedom with friends?
She cried bitter tears, unable to control herself. “I don’t know what to do!”
“Come on, Gnat,” Basha nudged her as he and the others started moving over the rocks around the pool toward the south.
Gnat followed after them. “I’m not prepared for this.”
“Nobody ever is!” The falcon cheered as the humans started running once they hit dry ground, Fato leading the way.
* * * *
Something was wrong, no, everything was amiss. Doomba growled, sitting up in his chair and staring out at the shadows. The shadows knew his fears and worries, they were a part of him, and reflected as well as shrouded him.
He felt almost certain Lord Fobata and Captain Goga had messed up again, despite whatever precautions they’d taken. He’d felt one or more of the Swords of Arria being used, disturbing to say the least. They were assembling again, right under Coe Aela’s roof!
This sort of thing shouldn’t happen in a Follower’s stronghold. Why were Fobata and Goga always getting things wrong? Did they enjoy somebody else cleaning up their messes?
Because somebody, perhaps Lord Crow or the ‘Maidens,’ the Yagiha or Wilama, would have to take control and kill the tiger and his friends. He never should’ve considered the possibility of possessing the tiger’s body.
It was too dangerous to tangle with, namely the proximity required made him an easy target. He should resign himself to a safer, less powerful body. A pity, he’d been looking forward to that.
Did Fobata and Goga enjoy being demoted and ignored in the ranks for their foibles and mistakes? Didn’t they understand the consequences of their actions, that they’d severely affected Doomba’s elevation for years now?
Did they underestimate their opponents, who could impede both Fobata and Goga as well as Doomba? Did they assume there was no threat, despite hints otherwise? They were terribly wrong, and it was their fault. They should’ve learned otherwise.
Perhaps the hint wasn’t big enough, and he shouldn’t have expected the imbeciles to understand. Surely, they wouldn’t have missed the Swords of Arria? Even if the weapons were hidden, surely, they would’ve at least taken the precaution of searching through the enemies’ packs. Wasn’t it obvious?
After the hope he’d gained when the tiger and his friends arrived at Coe Aela, that hope had diminished. He should debase and remove Fobata and Goga from his Followers. However, due to their high status and proximity to other noble, significant Followers, they’d been accounted important enough to be involved and gained access to an enormous amount of secrets over the years.
Some of the best-laid plans, identities, and subterfuges ever assembled had passed beneath their watch, and despite everything they’d ever done wrong, they couldn’t be turned away. Else they might go to King Sonnagh and his people with all of their knowledge, and betray him, tarnishing all of his plans and schemes.
Even their deaths were no guarantee, for surely someone would investigate, and someone in their employ might know enough to betray him, and so on. There was no guarantee nothing could go wrong, so Doomba had to do everything he could to prevent catastrophes.
He wished he could stand and do everything himself, but he couldn’t. He should send a message to his Black Wolves in the north. He concentrated, but then a knock at his door disrupted him.
Doomba groaned. “What’s gone wrong now?”
A gringrok opened the door. “Sire, a Trolla reports one of the tunnels in the Pits has flooded.”
“Flooded? This is the final straw. Something must be done about the Pits! The Trollas have a lot to answer for.”
* * * *
Nisa rushed through the servants’ quarters, heading for her room. She started to pack up her belongings, few as they were, and the weapons stash she’d hidden. She’d also smuggled a few supplies, mostly from the kitchen, hopefully enough to keep her from starving.
She froze when she heard a knock on her door. It was too soon, wasn’t it? Surely there would’ve been more time before Goga woke up.
Although who would knock when they could burst through the door to arrest her? Grabbing her electric baton, she cautiously approached the door. “Who’s there?”
“Janus—can I speak to you for a minute?”
“Now’s not a good time, go away.”
“Were you caught?”
Nisa opened the door, raising her baton. “Quiet, or I’ll hurt you.”
>
“You weren’t running for fun. What’s wrong?”
Nisa sighed. “Come in quickly, I’ll explain.”
Janus slipped in, but dodged her and her weapon as she closed the door. “Sorry, but I’ve got to know the situation, too. If you’re in danger, so am I at this rate.”
“I’m not in danger yet, but I might be when Goga wakes up. I had to knock him out, and now I’ve got to go.” Nisa packed away her baton.
“Why? Was he after Basha or something else? Maybe a Sword of Arria?”
Nisa frowned. “That’s none of your concern.”
“I figured it had to be something important if it’s connected to this quest. The only thing I could think of was a Sword of Arria, maybe the Black Sword. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Never mind that! I need to go after them before it’s too late.” Nisa picked up her bags. “By the way, I had to stop Gnat from trying to tackle Goga by herself. She’s probably gone with the group by now.”
“You’re sure?” Janus turned to her.
“Pretty certain, Basha and the others wouldn’t leave her behind if they can help. They’re kind that way.”
“I suppose, though it might be difficult to protect her now.” Janus looked up. “You’ll look after her, too, if you come across them, right?”
“I’ll try my best, though I can’t promise anything.” Nisa hesitated. “I’ll do my best. Take care of yourself, Janus.”
“Thanks. You, too.” Janus held out his hand.
Nisa stood there by the door ready to leave, staring at him as she gripped his hand and pulled him close. They kissed awkwardly and then desperately, embracing each other for a final goodbye. Yet they were still together about an hour later when the door did burst open.
Chapter 12
Man of Principle
The mark of a man of principle can be found in the way
That he distinguishes himself. Does he show that he
Has fortitude, discipline, a sense of duty and honor as
Well as intellect? Then he’s a true man of principle.
A Man of Principle, Mirandor
Goga groaned as he revived, sitting up and peering about, trying to recall where he was and what he was doing. He must’ve drunk a lot. He remembered seeing the Black Sword in the stable when his slightly blurred eyes had glanced over to the stall of one of the visitor’s horses.
He’d spotted the black leather of its hilt and its special curve in its sheath attached to the saddle left there. How careless, why’d they done that? Goga’d strode over and opened the stall door, swaying.
He’d dived around the horse when it was startled to snatch up the Sword and scabbard, throwing away the rest of the saddle. The Black Sword was his, yes, but where was it?
“Balnor and malakel it!” He stood up and wobbled, clutching at the wall. “That woman will pay.”
It was always a woman to him. He remembered her, a servant, approaching him with head down and hands clasped, but he hadn’t gotten a good look at her face. He’d seen her hair, though he couldn’t remember if it was blond, gray, white or red.
Maybe brown, depending on how the light had struck it. Something was affecting his mind, must’ve been the wine. She’d knocked him out, and taken the Black Sword. Why? Perhaps she’d known what it was.
“Guards!” He staggered outside. “Guards!”
He ordered them to search the servants’ quarters, round up any woman over the age of fifteen with blond, brown, red, white, or gray hair, and send them to the dungeon. Then he asked two of his guards to accompany him to the east wing, where the living quarters for those visitors were located. When he found them missing, he demanded a search for them all over the castle and its grounds, but he knew they were gone.
“They couldn’t have escaped,” Goga marched about his quarters. “The gates were shut. No one could’ve gotten out. My head hurts. The posterns were guarded as well. They must be hiding somewhere, waiting for their chance to slip out. I won’t let them.” He coughed, already developing a cold.
Hava sighed, writing down arrest warrants. Goga had woken him, and commanded him to get to work. Goga just loved ordering people about, Hava thought.
“I’ll find them.” Goga sniffed.
All night long, the guards searched, poking about every corner and raiding every room. Even Lord Fobata was asked to step out. The Duke of Coe Aela impatiently waited as the guards ransacked his room, wondering if Captain Goga had gone too far. Time to talk with him again.
The guards also rounded up the serving women, crying and screaming as they were taken, not knowing why. Friends, family members, and lovers pleaded for these women to be released. But the guards ignored them and sent the women down to the dungeon.
When the guards returned with negative results, Goga growled. “Fine, organize the search party. We leave in the morning.”
“But we’ve been up all night, sir. Can’t we rest a few hours?” One of the guards said.
“Rest, what’s that?” Goga sneezed. “Now do as I say! I’ll see those women you’ve captured.” He wiped his nose. “Hava! Come and bring the arrest warrants with you!”
Hava sighed, and followed after. “Sir, is all of this really necessary?”
“Yes, of course,” Goga rolled his eyes and sniffled. “We can’t let these children get away. I admit I thought they were next to nothing, but Lord Fobata and I have vastly underestimated them.”
“Despite being trapped, they found a way out, even if they had help from a servant girl. One of them has the Black Sword.” Servants and guards alike scattered before Goga as he stopped to sneeze. “Do you know what that means?”
“Knights of Arria?” Hava asked uncertainly.
“That’s right, Knights of Arria,” Goga descended into the dungeon. “They’ll bring destruction down on everything we’ve worked so hard for.”
“But how can you be so sure they’re Knights of Arria? Those warriors died centuries, millenia ago.”
“They’re Knights of Arria, or the closest thing we’ll get in our lifetimes.” Goga turned on Hava at the bottom of the staircase. “The Knights of Arria might’ve died, but they left behind a legacy that’s lasted all of this time and will be picked up by others. You can almost guarantee that. There may even be some truth to the rumor of a Knight of Arria in Coe Kiki already. Generations have been raised on the stories for millennia! Of course someone is going to pick up the bloody Black Sword when it falls into their hands,” Goga entered the dungeon with Hava right behind. “Who could resist that?”
The guard on duty turned to Goga, as several women started cursing Goga loudly from their cells. Others pleaded, or remained silent and sullen.
“Sir, the ladies are waiting to be inspected.” The guard raised his voice to be heard over the clamor.
“Ladies,” Goga went from cell to cell at a safe distance to avoid being strangled. He peered in and examined them one by one to see if any of them might’ve attacked him.
“No. No. Maybe. Too old. Not enough hair. Too young.” Goga wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “She was shorter. Taller. Fatter. Skinnier. Maybe a bit older. Possible. Turn your head to the left. No.”
Goga narrowed down his suspects as Hava wrote down their names and descriptions. “All right, I think that’s enough.”
Hava tore off the piece of paper from his ledger and handed it over to the guard. “Here, round up these ladies and prepare them for an investigation. I’ll be with them shortly. Hava, come with me.” Goga left the dungeon behind.
Hava panted, going up the staircase. “Where we going now?”
“To Lord Fobata. I’m sure he wants to talk to me.” Goga climbed. “I’ve a few words I want to say to him, too. Plus we must have a conversation with Marlo and…what was the name of the servant Marlo had spying on the group?”
“Janus?” Hava asked, shocked as he stopped just before the top of the stairs.
“Precisely.” Goga growled, emerging into the back corridor
just as the sun rose above the eastern corner of the rear curtain wall, visible through one of the windows.
* * * *
As Brigga hung up laundry to dry, she heard Old Man landing on the ground close by. “How are you, Brigga?”
“Well enough. I’ve been easing myself back into working here, and Habala and Geda have left me to it for the most part, with sincere apologies. I think they’re still uneasy and uncertain with each other and what’s happened. There’s been some rumors and gossip about the other night, but for the most part, very few have stopped frequenting the place.”
“Has Habala kept quiet?”
“Yes, she’s been quiet for all these years, knowing you and Nisa were spying on her boys. I fear she might doubt us and our motivations more, possibly with good reason.” She sighed. “Despite some progress, I’m still being pushed to the edge. Habala doesn’t believe me.”
“Perhaps it’s for the best, though I fear for you, if Smidge’s released and seeks vengeance. I could try capturing and imprisoning him after his release to question him. His absence might be noticed, but they mightn’t search heavily for him when he’s done some terrible things. His family might be concerned, but he could be swept under the rug.”
Brigga stared at Old Man. “You really would do that?”
“I’ve done such things before to other Followers of Doomba. So has Nisa.”
Brigga grimaced. “I hadn’t thought…actually, I’ve wondered, but...Old Man, are you certain about the rightness, the justice of your actions? And involving Nisa?”
“I know. Usually I’m certain and try not to involve Nisa in the worst. But sometimes I can’t control what happens. Smidge’s case isn’t clear-cut. He might be guilty enough to remain imprisoned for the rest of his life, but I don’t know if I can keep him that long. I don’t know how guilty he is, the extent of his crimes. I know some of his activities and I’ve guessed at others, but I don’t know if he’s guilty enough to deserve an execution, which might happen if he’s left to me.”
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