by Mark Shane
Fear swept through Alex. His fear of Geirsh paled in comparison to the thought of losing himself to Aleister again. The shroud crept back over him a little like a prowling creature sensing an opportunity.
Geirsh yanked him up by the scruff of his shirt choking him.
The man’s smile enraged Alex. He refused to be trapped. He refused to let Aleister enslave him again. At first he wondered why the man’s expression turned to shock, mouth gaping open. Then Alex realized Geirsh clawed weakly at his hand, blood pouring from the man’s neck. Alex pulled his knife from the man’s neck and jumped back in shock. Geirsh remained standing for a moment longer, eyes staring at Alex with a mixture of rage and surprise, then he fell to the floor.
Alex grabbed the shuttered lantern and darted to the wooden panel. Pressing the foot peg near the floor, he slipped through the secret door. He ran, tears streaming down his cheeks. He could not scrub the image of Geirsh’s face from his mind.
When he arrived at the storeroom, the Seer was pacing the room, exhibiting more energy than Alex thought him capable of.
“You’re walking!”
“Yeah.” Thomas grinned slyly. “Thanks to those herbs you brought me last night. The strength won’t last long, though.”
“Good thing you’re up. We have to go.” The seer’s raised eyebrow prompted Alex to explain what had happened.
“Best we leave before they start looking down here,” Thomas said.
Alex nodded and led the way out of the storeroom. “No way out that way,” Alex said, holding the lantern toward the opposite direction from where he had come. “The sewer ends and the drains are too small for a person to fit through.” He pointed back the way he had come from. “I think there’s a crypt we can hide in.”
Thomas looked at him strangely.
“What? It may be our best chance until they stop looking.”
“Never mind,” Thomas said but his countenance still held that strange look. “Lead the way.”
Two left turns and half-way down a passage Alex pulled up short. Men were in the sewers and not being quiet about it. He closed the shutters on the lantern, pure blackness enveloping them. Alex thanked the Creator that Geirsh had had a shuttered lantern. A torch would give them away quickly.
They backtracked, following the wall to a shallow alcove, pressing their backs to the dank bricks.
“We have to get around them,” Alex whispered. “There’s no other way out.”
His mind raced over the possibilities. There were nooks and alcoves, narrow side alleys and various ways to get to the same place in the labyrinth, but any of them might now lead them to soldiers as easily as safety. Still, his knowledge of the sewers was his advantage.
“Stay with me,” he whispered. “Hold on to my shirt. This is going to get tricky.”
Drawing his knife, he slid into the knee deep water and felt his way to the other side. Fingers guided his way along the wall. There was a turn up ahead, twenty, maybe twenty-five, paces. They ducked into another alcove just as a torch punched through the darkness ahead of them. Alex gripped his knife tightly.
“Bloody, farkin’ darkness!” The soldier turned around and yelled in the direction he had come. “How’re we supposed to bloody find anyone down here?”
“Stop yeh whining and keep looking,” someone yelled back.
“Flipping bugger,” the soldier said with a lewd hand gesture and stormed off in the opposite direction of Alex and Thomas. Alex could see the whites of Thomas’ eyes in the fading light of the soldier’s torch. They waited till he disappeared around a corner, only the faint glow of his torch indicating he was there.
When they slipped into the next passage, there were three tell-tale glows of torch light in various passageways. Four men. How many more that he could not see?
They slid along the wall as Alex counted his steps, estimating the distance to the passageway he needed. He knew it was the last one on his right, but the span from corridor to corridor was not even. When he bumped into a wall, he knew he had gone too far. He backtracked till he felt the entrance of a corridor. A pool of torchlight appeared at the far end. They quietly stepped into the cold water and crossed the passageway before the torch’s light came close enough to reveal them.
Several turns later Alex realized he had gotten off track. The darkness was a bittersweet ally. Checking for the glow of any torches, he opened the shutters of the lantern to get his bearings. The passage split ahead, and he glimpsed the break in the wall of another corridor ten paces behind them.
“What was that?” someone called out in the dark. “Down here! Bring me a torch!”
Alex closed the shutters and quickly moved Thomas to the passage they had passed, cursing himself for getting them spotted. They heard men splashing in the water as they moved down the new corridor. Alex’s heart stopped when he ran into a wall. Feeling around, he found they had come to a dead end. They pressed their backs against the wall when two men appeared at the mouth of their corridor forty feet away.
“I swear I saw somethin’.”
“Well, which way did it go?” a raspy voice asked.
“I don’t know,” the first soldier said. “It was just a little sliver of light and then it was gone. Twas not moving when I saw it.”
“Well, there’s nothing here now,” raspy voice said. “What happened to your torch?”
“I slipped and it got wet. What?” the first soldier snapped. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s slippery down here.”
Their pool of light grew brighter as the second soldier relit his comrade’s.
“Thanks. Now go search that passageway,” the first soldier said, pointing his torch at the corridor Alex and Thomas were hiding in, then walked out of sight toward the twin tunnels.
Alex gripped his knife tighter as the torchlight came closer to revealing them. There had been no sound when he stabbed Geirsh. Maybe he could kill this one as quietly.
The soldier stopped abruptly as the edge of his torchlight fell on them. Alex recognized Nathaniel. He had always been nice. Frozen, they stood looking at one another, uncertain, then Nathaniel glanced back the way he had come. He looked back at Alex for what felt like an eternity then turned and headed back the way he had come.
“Anything?” the first soldier yelled.
Sounded to Alex like the man was in one of the two corridors that forked further down.
“No, nothing,” Nathaniel yelled back. “Wait, what was that?”
“What?” the other soldier exclaimed.
“I saw a sliver of light down the other corridor. Follow me! I found him! Follow me!”
Several more men sloshed through the water illuminating the entrance of their hiding place as they passed. Alex looked at Thomas even though he could not see him in the darkness.
They backtracked till they found the right passageway. Turning the corner, a flash of light blinded Alex just before he felt something hit him in the head. Ears ringing, he hit the floor face first.
“I knew the gutter rat was still nearby,” a man said, towering over Alex, holding a shuttered lantern in one hand and his sword in the other.
The man let out a howl when Thomas stabbed him while he focused on Alex. Horror enveloped Alex as the man turned on Thomas, knife sticking out of his side, and ran the old seer through.
“No!” Alex yelled, scrambling to his feet. He swung his lantern smashing it against the man’s head. Doused in lamp oil, the man’s hair erupted in flames. He beat the man again and again with the lantern. The man flailed in burning agony till he fell into the water, floating face down. Alex tossed the metal ring handle of his lantern aside. He did not realize the lantern had broken off.
“No. No, no, no.” Alex sobbed as he cradled Thomas in his arms.
“Alex…” The old seer’s voice was strained. “One of the sarcophagi in the crypt room is a door to a secret tunnel. I don’t know which, but you can figure it out. It will lead you out of the castle. Once you’re—”
“How do you know this?”
Thomas smiled. “I’m a seer, boy; part of my dream last night. The Creator himself is helping us. Once...once you’re out of the castle watch the southern gate. The Keeper will come.”
“The Keeper? What Keeper?”
“A new Keeper lives,” Thomas’ face lit up with excitement, “and he’s coming.”
A tear ran down Alex’s face. “If you saw all of that, why didn’t you see this?”
“We all have a purpose in life, Alex. I’ve met many in my life. It’s been my privilege to meet one last purpose as the Creator sees fit.” Thomas coughed and blood dribbled down his chin. He looked at Alex, pride in his eyes. “You did well standing up to Aleister. Watch the gate and be ready. Blonde and tall, same age as your sister. He carries the Eye with him. Watch for the Eye, Alex.”
Thomas clutched Alex’s shirt, pulling him closer. His voice a raspy whisper. “Watch for the Eye.”
The seer’s body went limp and his spirit sailed to the freedom of a perfect realm.
Alex's shoulders convulsed with sobs as he held Thomas’ body. He heard men sloshing in the water somewhere in the dark. He kissed Thomas on the forehead and laid him down gently. In the dimness of the soldier’s overturned lantern, the old seer almost looked like he was sleeping. Alex made Thomas a solemn vow then picked up the lantern and ran away. Light was his ally now, time his enemy. If the Creator was aiding them, then let Him keep the soldiers out of his way.
In the crypt room, he examined each sarcophagus carefully. He found one was a little taller than the rest just as he heard men’s voices approaching. It was either the right sarcophagus or he was going to be hiding with a corpse. He slid the door open slightly, just enough for him to slip in, and closed it back.
“I thought I heard something in here,” a gravelly voice said. “Search the coffins.”
“You want to disturb the dead?” a more articulate, tenor voice replied. “You’re on your own.”
“Hey! Come back. It was merely a suggestion!”
“I got a suggestion for you!” the tenor voice replied.
The rest of their discourse was lost as the two men left the crypt chamber.
With the soldiers gone, Alex realized the sarcophagus held no remains. He felt along the dusty floor, uncovering an iron ring set into the floor and pulled. The floor gave way and Alex fell, knocking the air out of him when he landed. Alex picked himself up and reached up into the sarcophagus for his lantern. The passageway was narrow and tight and at one point Alex questioned if it would actually end. Then a ladder appeared at the edge of the lantern’s glow. Unable to open the door one-handed he set the lantern on the floor. After three hard heaves, the door gave way with a crash.
Harsh light temporarily blinded him as he clamored up from the secret passage. Once his eyes adjusted he realized he stood in a storage room, walls lined with shelves, sliding door and windows on the far side wall. The trapdoor lay under a flight of stairs and had been half covered by several barrels and boxes that now lay strewn across the floor. Alex quickly replaced the square section of wood floor that made up the trapdoor noting the floor panel matched perfectly. If Alex had not come through the floor, he would never believe the trapdoor was there. The loading door slid open just as he finished putting the second barrel in place.
“What’re you doin’ in here ya little thief?” A man bellowed.
Alex dashed up the stairs, but the door was locked. The man grabbed him by his collar and dragged him out the loading dock door, throwing him into the alley.
“Get out! If I see ya again, I’ll call the guards!”
The man slammed the door, leaving Alex alone in the alley. At one end, the massive wall of the castle loomed over him. Bruised and battered, but outside the castle wall, he was free. Alex wiped blood from his chin where he had scraped it when the man threw him out. He took one last look at the castle wall then turned and headed out the other end of the alley. He needed to get to the southern gate. He had a vow to keep.
CHAPTER 22
Vorn Eyre Forest
Michael squinted at the morning sun bathing the cobblestone streets in golden light. Looking at shops to the left and right, he nearly bumped into Jorgen, who had stopped in front of a horse trader’s stables.
Jorgen smirked at him. “Does a carpenter know what to look for in a horse?”
For some reason, the paladin seemed amused at the fact Michael grew up a carpenter. Contrary to last night’s solemn vow on bended knee, Jorgen did not behave like a king’s subject. He treated Michael more like a new cadet in need of training.
“I know what I’m looking for. Can a paladin select good tack? Nothing showy. Don’t need a poorly made saddle hidden under flashy decorations.”
Jorgen laughed heartily. Bowing his head slightly he turned his attention to the man approaching them with a glint in his eye.
Michael picked out a red roan gelding with a frisky step garnering an approving nod from Jorgen. Garen found a nice dappled grey for himself and a sorrel mare with twin socks for Falon. Jorgen complimented their selections with an appaloosa gelding for Max. Fitted with good saddles, the three set off for the inn. The horse trader watched them leave, fewer coins in his hand than expected, the glint gone from his eyes.
“Shouldn’t have tried to overcharge,” Jorgen commented.
Michael grinned. Jorgen was as skilled at bartering as he was fighting. The trader should be thankful he still wore his shirt.
When they returned to the inn’s stables, Jorgen introduced them to his destrier. A tall, black stallion, Caballus looked as dangerous as his master.
After a quiet evening meal in the private dining room, they retired early. Elise, the serving maid who had flaunted her charms at Michael, pulled him aside on his way to his room.
“I noticed you preparing horses this afternoon. You’re leaving in the morning?”
The way she looked at him with those innocent hazel eyes muddled his brain.
“We are,” Michael replied, unsure what else to say. She was a pretty girl, but he had no desire to start something that would go nowhere.
Quick as lightning she grabbed his shirt with both hands, stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
His initial reaction to stop her melted away before his hands could respond. Why did her lips have to be so soft?
“The moon’s full tonight,” she said a little out of breath. “Perhaps you could escort me to the river. It’s so beautiful by the moonlight.”
“Or, perhaps he could get his carcass to bed so he doesn’t fall out of his saddle tomorrow!” Falon stood with her arms crossed, glaring at them both. “He’s not exactly skilled on a horse to begin with. It would be a shame if he fell asleep in the saddle and broke that pretty neck of his.”
Elise curtsied as if Falon was royalty and quickly disappeared.
“What did you have to go and do that for?” Michael asked.
“What were you going to do? Bed her for the night and leave her a note?”
“Now, hold on—”
“You’re old enough to shave so you’re old enough to be stupid, but you don’t have the luxury. Once we finish this little adventure, you can bed all the serving maids you please. Till then keep your head where it belongs.” She stormed past him.
He stood there, mouth hanging open, unable to think of a retort till she turned the corner.
“Women.”
***
The cold morning air proved warm compared to the reception Michael received from Falon when he arrived at the stables.
“Something wrong Falon?” he asked, swinging his saddle over Red.
“No,” she snapped, “why would anything be wrong?”
Michael glanced around looking for help. Garen’s eyes darted back to fastening his saddlebags. Max paid them no mind adjusting his stirrups and Jorgen was nowhere in sight though Caballus stood several paces away saddled and waiting patiently.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “You seem a little
snippy.”
Falon yanked on the girth strap of her saddle harder than necessary to cinch it. “Let’s not worry about me. Perhaps that slip of a serving maid is more to your liking.”
“Now hang on,” Michael replied, hotly. “She’s the one—”
“You didn’t seem to mind.”
“Why would I?”
Falon’s cheeks colored. “Never mind,” she said.
“If you two love birds are finished,” Jorgen interrupted, stepping out of the tack room.
Falon glared at both men equally then swung into her saddle and walked her horse to stand beside Caballus, back stiff and head held high like a queen.
With fresh supplies, horses, and a renewed sense of vigor, the company rode out of Rhalmadia. Jorgen’s presence restored the drive the nightstalkers had stripped away. They traveled the hard packed road that meandered southeast toward Elowe for two days then turned due south into the Vorn Eyre Forest.
Without the threat of nightstalkers dogging them, their travel became routine. Camp went up at dusk and they were back in the saddle at dawn. Michael considered it easy after their mad dash for safety. Each morning Jorgen buried the fire and removed the signs of their camp as best he could. “No reason to be careless,” he said. Other duties were shared and rotated. Michael often volunteered to assist Falon, which annoyed Max for some reason, though he wouldn’t talk about it. Garen snickered and gave him a hard time when Falon was not around. Regardless, Falon intrigued Michael; soft and hard, stately and earthy, all at the same time. He found her intelligent, knowledgeable, and easy to talk to when her hackles weren’t raised. She talked freely about Shaladon, but when he turned the conversation toward personal topics like her home or family she would give vague answers then change the subject. Her dodging annoyed Michael. The more she refused to open up the more determined he became to find out.
“Leave it alone,” she snapped while they collected wood one evening. He had shared about his father and their carpentry. It seemed like a fair question to ask about her father. She did not speak to him again that night, leaving him frustrated and confused. Every time he thought he made progress she pulled away, raising up walls solid as any castle.