Within the Hollow Crown

by Antoniazzi, Daniel

  Halmir was convinced Argos had spent some time in the Kingdom of Rone. He spoke of specific locations, describing them in exquisite detail. He knew far more of the terrain, the landmarks, the foliage, the seasons, than someone could get by scrying. Argos was also the best historian amongst the Turin, inasmuch as the Turin have historians.

  And he seemed to take the insult of the Rone personally. It was here that Halmir had the hardest time describing his former Master, for he had learned the lessons so well.

  “Forgive me,” Halmir paused. “He believes that the Rone are evil. That they must pay for the brutal attacks of the past. The pillaging, the slaughtering. He hates the people of Rone. He swore he would undo their reign over the continent. I’m sorry to speak so plainly about the past. I’m trying to describe my Master.”

  “You do not need to apologize for describing the past,” Michael assured him. “It is our past as well as yours. And I happen to know you speak the truth.”

  Halmir was certain Argos was the one who started the war. The Regent, the man who was technically in charge of the politics of the Turin, would never have been so impractical. He knew that, at best, the Turin would only have been able to muster thirty thousand soldiers. That would represent every able-bodied man and woman they could muster.

  By contrast, the Rone had almost a one hundred thousand citizens of the appropriate age. That wasn’t counting the 245 Dukes, Counts, Barons, Bannorets, and unlanded Knights, each wearing better armor than anyone in the Turinheld could hope to afford.

  But Argos knew something about the people of Rone. They were not a unified people. Not the way the Turin were. They had their Duchies, their Baronies, their noble families. Each was in a constant struggle for stature and position. They played a constant game of marrying nobles to other nobles. They had different flags and different customs. They were unified by their law, but not in their hearts.

  All he had to do was create confusion about the line of succession, and the Kingdom would crumble. So, Halmir concluded, he must have convinced the Regent to raise that army. To put at risk every age-appropriate, able-bodied man and woman. To arm them. To train them. And to send them forth with orders to raze the Kingdom to the ground.

  It was working. Avonshire and Brimford, the two largest territories of the Kingdom were, even now, obliterating one another. And with each soldier killed in that conflict, the Rone had one less soldier with which to fight the Turin.

  “Well,” Michael said, “Then there’s only one thing to do?”

  “What’s that?” Vye said.

  “We’ll have to get Avonshire and Brimford to like each other.”

  “Oh,” Vye said, “Is that all?”

  Chapter 49: Darkness

  The map was incredibly accurate. Even at those times when it seemed the passage would be too confusing, the map was very precise about where they were meant to go. Jareld, Thor, and Corthos made good progress, inasmuch as progress can be accurately measured by going further into the darkest, deadliest caves in the world.

  It wasn’t until the third night that they encountered their first major obstacle. While the map clearly dictated the direction they were supposed to go, it didn’t explain how they were supposed to get around the cave-in that blocked the passage.

  “Well,” said Thor, “I hope the map doesn’t want us to go that way.”

  “You mean forward?” Jareld said.

  “Methinks we must find another way around,” Corthos said.

  “Not likely,” Jareld said. “If we didn’t have this map giving us such precise directions, we’d be in Khiransi by now. Or dead.”

  “Or both” Thor said.

  “We do not have a choice,” Corthos said. “We cannot move the rocks alone.”

  “Give me a minute to think,” Jareld said.

  He looked back. It was dark, pitch black, just beyond the range of the torch. The cylindrical tunnels, created by the Platonic Worms, curved where the light died; leaving a darkness unlike any Jareld had seen before. In these Caves, with their legendary deadliness, he did not dare veer off the path. There was no hope in that direction.

  But there was something in that direction. Something moving. Another venomous creature with claws and fangs and whatever? Probably. But his eyes weren’t good enough to see much in this darkness.

  “Corthos, what’s that?” he asked.

  Before Corthos could even look, an arrow flew overhead, just missing Jareld’s left ear. Corthos tossed Jareld to the ground before taking cover himself. Thor, hearing the arrow clatter against the rocks threw the torch down the hall. He missed the assailant, but his actions helped anyway. Now it was Jareld, Thor, and Corthos in the cover of darkness, and the assailant who was well lit.

  And he was Turin. And he wasn’t a he. He was a they. Jareld could only see silhouettes against the torch, but there were at least half a dozen, and they were closing in.

  “Corthos,” Jareld whispered, “We have to get out of here.”

  “There be a turn off the main tunnel, only ten paces back,” Corthos said.

  The archer was notching another arrow. The others drew swords and inched into the darkness. The Turin were staring into the darkness, trying to spot their quarry.

  “OK,” Jareld said, “We crawl for the turn.”

  “Quietly,” Corthos whispered.

  The three of them crawled at an excruciatingly slow pace. Foot by foot, they approached the turn in the tunnels. Meanwhile, the Turin were also moving down the hall, step by cautious step. They were on a molasses-speed collision course.

  Suddenly, a shadow passed in front of the dormant torchlight. Jareld looked up and saw that one of the Turin swordsmen was only a few feet from him, listening out in front of him. Jareld stopped moving. The swordsman stopped. Jareld tried to move again. The swordsman snapped in his direction.

  Jareld turned his head back to Corthos, who was right behind him. Whatever expression or mouthed order Corthos was giving, Jareld couldn’t see.

  The swordsman took another step. He was right on top of Jareld. If Jareld had been made of fine leather, he could have been the man’s boots.

  The man swept out with his sword. Fanning the air above Jareld. Jareld didn’t have time to think. He hooked his arm around the man’s legs, and pulled out. The man stumbled back, wheeling his arms to keep his balance. Before he could recover his footing, Corthos was up, swung his sword, and impaled the man in the chest.

  Jareld and Thor got up and scampered down the turn in the tunnel and into complete darkness. Jareld could hear Corthos match swords with someone behind him, he heard a scream, and then he heard more footsteps behind him.

  Jareld turned his head to see who or how many were following him, but he couldn’t see anything. He turned his head forward again, but it didn’t make much of a difference.

  Thor, meanwhile, was leading the way by feeling along the walls. The two of them kept stumbling along, but they kept hearing footsteps behind them.

  Finally, Thor tripped on something, Jareld tripped on Thor, the floor gave way, and the two of them were spilled down a level.

  Jareld tried to get himself up. He could smell the dust of the collapsed rock, and he could feel the bruises, but he could only think of how to keep moving.

  Unfortunately, in trying to stand up, Jareld got extremely dizzy, wobbled around for a moment, and then passed out.

  Chapter 50: Bedroom Politics

  “You’re going to Avonshire, aren’t you?” said Sarah, when Michael entered the bedchambers. It was, notably, the first time the two of them had been in the bedchambers together, as their wedding had been so rudely interrupted.

  “Yes,” Michael said, “I have to.”

  “You really don’t,” Sarah said. “Others can go in your place.”

  “They could,” Michael said, “But I’m going.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight? Not even in the morning?”

  “I’m
sorry. This cannot wait.”

  Sarah sighed.

  “Don’t sigh at me,” Michael said, removing his noble regalia in favor of more durable travel gear.

  “I wasn’t sighing at you, I was just sighing.”

  “It sounded like--”

  “It’s not your fight, Michael.”

  “It’s not mine alone, if that’s what you mean. It’s everyone’s.”

  “So let someone else go. You just recovered from death.”

  “I was never dead.”

  “You were to me, for a short while.”

  Sarah was trying to confess something. And on an ordinary day, maybe Michael would have picked up on the subtle hints and clues. But his mind was racing with wars and Kings and history and he didn’t have room in his brain for subtlety.

  “I don’t trust anyone else to do this.”

  “You think you’re the smartest man in the world?”

  “Of course not,” Michael said, “I could leave it alone. Hope someone else goes in and fixes everything. And maybe we would get lucky and somebody will. But if nobody does, then we will both die here. And I’m not taking that chance. I’m growing old, with you.”

  “Not one man in a million would take it upon himself to save the Kingdom.”

  “Then you must be a very lucky wife.”

  Michael, realizing his voice had gotten a little louder, turned away and sighed as well.

  “Now who’s sighing at whom?”

  “I was sighing at myself.”

  “Don’t go.”

  “I have to.”

  “Please.”

  “I’m sorry. We’ll be together. Soon. But not tonight.”

  Michael opened the door...

  “Wait,” she said. “Just, please, wait for a moment.”

  “What?” Michael said.

  “Things are very… uncertain, right now. You almost died. Please, don’t go. Not tonight.”

  “Sarah, I don’t want to go. But I feel I must. But here’s how you’ll know I’m coming back for you.”

  “How?”

  “I promise.”

  “Men cannot keep such promises.”

  “I can.”

  “Not in these times.”

  “I will.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Michael kissed her.

  “Believe me.”

  He turned and left the room, not allowing anything more to delay him. Sarah didn’t know why, but she did believe him.

  ---

  Michael proceeded to the stables, where she found Lady Vye waiting for him.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Michael asked, seeing that Vye was all geared up.

  “With you, of course,” Vye said. “But we’re not taking horses.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know a better way.”

  Michael stood for only a moment before he understood what she meant.

  “No,” he said, sternly. “I’m not walking through that… thing.”

  “Come on, Your Grace,” she said. “We don’t have time. By our best estimates, Avonshire and Brimford have been warring for almost a week. If we travel by horse, the fighting will be over, someone will have the throne, and about twenty-two soldiers will be alive.”

  “Can you do the smoky… thing?”

  “No,” Vye said, “But I know someone who can.”

  Chapter 51: Another Path

  Michael, Landos, Vye, and Gabriel went to the dungeon together. They walked in silence, only acknowledging each other with uncomfortable nods and rolled eyes. They stood outside Halmir’s cell while Vye unbound the prisoner and walked him to the others.

  “Don’t speak,” Vye said. “Just listen.”

  Halmir nodded. Vye backed off, and Michael stepped forward.

  “Lady Vye says she trusts you,” Michael said. “Time was I would trust you too, just because she said so.”

  Michael paused, but Halmir did not appear to have anything to say.

  “Still,” Michael continued, “I can’t forget there is a large scar where my torso used to be, and you’re the one who put it there.”

  Again, nothing.

  “We’re in an odd situation,” Michael went on. “A few hours ago, you told me about a plan that Argos set in motion. I think I know how to stop him from succeeding, but the hour is getting late, and I can’t do it without your help. I don’t know why you’ve changed your mind. And maybe that’s something you’re still working out in your head, but I don’t have time for second-guessing, and I need to know that you can help us. I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to conquer. I just want to stop all of this. Can you help me?”

  “I can help,” Halmir said, “And I will. And if you need a reason to trust me, know this: Last night, I killed a member of my group, one of the Turin-Sen. Your Lady Vye can testify to that. As soon as my Master learns of this, I will be marked for death. I do want to help you, I really do. But if you don’t believe me, at least understand that I can’t go back, and I fear for my life.”

  Michael nodded.

  “Please wait here for a moment,” Michael said. He huddled together with the others, just out of earshot.

  “He seems sincere,” Michael said.

  “I’ve known some very good liars in my life,” Landos said.

  “He’s not lying,” Vye said, “He killed a man of his last tonight.”

  “Could have been staged,” Landos said.

  “It wasn’t,” Vye said. “I’m the one who gave the final blow.”

  “I don’t want to have matching scars,” Michael said. “And I think it’s ridiculous to bring him along.”

  “So why are you even thinking about it?” Landos said.

  “We need him,” Michael answered.

  “I’ll vouch for him,” Vye said. “I’ve been in his mind. He’s not lying.”

  There was a brief pause while the three men looked up at Vye. Gabriel seemed surprised, an emotion he rarely felt and almost never showed.

  “I hope you’re right,” Michael said.

  “Don’t take any chances,” Gabriel said. “I mean, any more than you have to. I mean, any more than you already are. Oh, never mind.”

  “Right,” Michael said. He left the group and went to Halmir to talk further. Landos followed him.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Julia,” Gabriel said, quietly. “I think there’s something you’re not telling us.”

  “There is,” Vye said. “And I’m not going to.”

  “That’s fine. Just remember what we talked about.”

  “We talked about a lot of things.”

  “People can do crazy things...”

  ---

  They escorted Halmir up to the northern courtyard, very close to where Halmir and Vye had finished their first fight. Someone was waiting for them.

  “Flopson, what are you doing here?” Michael asked.

  “I’m trying to keep him out of trouble,” Flopson said, pointing to Gabriel.

  “Well, that’s very kind of you,” Michael said, “But Landos is keeping a sharp eye out.”

  “Where are you going?” Flopson asked.

  “Avonshire.”

  “Smelly place.”

  “Wait ‘till we get done with it.”

  “I want to come too,” Flopson said, doing his best impersonation of a three-year old.

  “I thought you said it was smelly,” Michael said.

  “It is. But not nearly as smelly as this place.”

  “Very well,” Michael said. “Come along if you must. But we’re going to be in the company of some very important people, and I don’t want you to get us all in trouble.”

  “I can’t make any promises.”

  “Close enough,” Michael said, shrugging. “Landos, you and Gabriel will stay here and keep an eye on things.”

  “Shouldn’t I come with you?” Gabriel said. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

  “There are greater dangers than poli
tics,” Michael said. “Though not many. The Prince was attacked while surrounded by dozens of guards and a couple of our better warriors. I want the Castle to be safe tonight.”

  “I understand,” Gabriel said.

  Michael and Vye stood beside Halmir as he began waving his arms about and chanting. Flopson edged up to the Turin warrior.

  “I don’t know if we’ve been properly introduced,” Flopson said. “Flopson the Jester.”

  “I remember,” Halmir mumbled. “You left quite an impression.”

  “On the side of your head, am I right?” Flopson raised a hand for a high-five, but Halmir finished opening the gate instead.

  Smoke rose from the grass, forming into the shape of a door. Vye stepped through first, to demonstrate her trust. Then Halmir, then Flopson. Michael followed. The smoke billowed and wavered, and then vanished.

  Chapter 52: Off The Map

  Jareld woke up and immediately regretted it.

  He was bruised and winded, but nothing was broken. He peeled himself off the floor, opening his eyes to a small surprise: He could see things. There was a fire going, and Thor and Corthos were having a quiet discussion.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” Thor said.

  “Technically,” Jareld answered. He found that his muscles were stiff, but he was able to drag himself to the fire.

  “What happened?” Jareld said.

  “You fell,” Corthos said, not seeing the need to add further details.

  “And you’re alive?” Jareld said.

  “Aye.”

  “I thought I heard you scream,” Jareld continued.

  “That was me opponent, a right rough fellow. Turin, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “You killed him?”

  “Aye, and one of his friends. But there were too many, so I fled.”

  “He got to the same hole in the floor,” Thor continued, “But by that time, I had lit a torch. He saw the hole and climbed down.”

  “You weren’t knocked out by the fall?” Jareld said.

  “No, I fell on you.”

  “Oh,” Jareld said, feeling a bruise in his ribs.