by Tracey Alley
beam, a huge slab of stone had fallen from the roof, completely blocking the tunnel.
“Not much good having a bolt hole if everyone can just follow you down,” Lara said impishly.
“Not much good at all Lara,” Slade said appreciatively, although he wondered why, if this system had been in place when King Eldritch held the throne, he had not used it.
“Better let me go first Slade,” Lara said taking the lead, “mostly the tunnel’s in good shape but I've probably got a better ear than the rest of you for anything unusual, any creaks or groans. We haven’t got too much further to go.” Silently they all fell into step behind Lara.
Another weary hour’s marching saw the hard packed dirt walls becoming noticeably shorter, although still towering above even Trunk. Seeing this Slade realized they must have been travelling upwards for some time without his noticing. Not that he was capable of noticing very much in his present condition. He was stumbling more than walking and longed for nothing more than a quiet spot somewhere to rest; preferably for a whole ten-day.
“We’re heading up, aren’t we Lara?” Slade questioned the halfling woman.
“Yes, we’re coming up to a kind of cave, only we’re also still a little bit underground here. We should be there any…actually we’re here,” she said.
The first thing Slade noticed about the open space was its incredible size. It was huge, roughly circular with the tunnel bisecting it in the middle. On one side of the wall were piles of straw and blankets, all ancient and rotten with mildew and the gods only knew what else. The other side was relatively clear except for two long, low stone troughs; Slade surmised they had once probably held water. At the far end of the cave three large iron rings had been hammered into the walls, which Slade recognized as horse rings. Obviously King Eldritch, or whoever had used the bolt hole last, had prepared this room so they would find fresh horses, plenty of water and probably other provisions as well.
“How much farther is it to the end from here Lara?” Slade asked.
“Um,” Lara's pixie face screwed up in concentration, “probably, like an hour, maybe a bit less, on foot that is.”
“If no one objects I suggest we rest up here for a little while,” Slade said, “I know it’s not even noon but I don’t think I can take another step. I’m practically falling where I stand and if I don’t rest I’m not going to be much use when we do eventually get out of here.”
“Of course we will rest. It will give us an opportunity to,” Tares paused, looking quickly at Nikolai, “talk about what we may have discovered.”
“Fine with me,” Wulfstan said his voice heavy with exhaustion “but, does anybody have any food?”
“Yes,” Darzan said, sitting on the edge of the low trough and opening one of the large packs, “Tares and Lara brought some in.”
“Wonderful,” Slade said as he spread out one of the cleaner old blankets on the floor, “then let us eat like the kings we are.”
An Unimaginable Alliance
Malerok city was the capital city, in fact the only city within The Malerok Republic. A sprawling metropolis, in many ways Malerok was identical to virtually every other major city in The Kingdoms. There was the same dirt, dust and noise, the same press of people and carts, horses, dogs, and children. There were the same types of houses, market places, street vendors, taverns, inns and even the occasional temple; but it was the differences that made Malerok such a pleasure to visit.
Unlike the major cities throughout the rest of The Kingdoms, the wide expanse of The Republic of Malerok had no surrounding walls. The city simply spread out till the streets became dirt tracks instead of paved cobbles, the close packed houses grew larger until they became grand estates, and then further out, simple farmsteads surrounded by crop fields or paddocks filled with livestock, or sometimes both.
Even the joy of no enclosing walls however, could not compare with the joy of there being no inner walls. The people of Malerok city, be they human, elf, dwarf, halfling, orc, undead, in fact any one of the many races, all walked freely through the streets, mixing easily together, ancient hatreds forgotten or at the very least, put aside.
There were no guards patrolling the streets to enforce the peace; the peace was simply there, it existed. Of course, the reason behind this goodwill and peaceful co-existence was also simple, magic. The Malerok Republic was The Kingdoms sole magocracy. The ruling body of the Republic, the famed Council of Nine, was made up of powerful spellcasters. The Councils members were men and women, humans, non-humans, the living and the dead. Within the borders of Malerok, only the magic was important, everything else was secondary.
Lord Michael Strong could only pray that The Malerok Republic would serve as an example to the rest of The Kingdoms of Kaynos. It was his most fervent prayer that all The Kingdoms would learn some cooperation. That way, hopefully they might one day return to the peace and prosperity it was said Kaynos had enjoyed nearly a thousand years ago, before The Great War tore the empires apart.
Lord Michael was, however, well aware that ancient wounds ran deep, distrust between the species had become the standard. Now there were few, if any, who believed the ancient scrolls that spoke of a once united land. He also knew well that most people, including almost all of his own knights, would not believe the errand he had come here on, nor would they believe or approve of who it was he had come to see.
Guiding his horse through some of Malerok's more spacious and prosperous streets Lord Michael eventually located The Dancing Pony inn. The inn was a three-story building with a wide veranda at the front and small balconies coming off the rooms in the upper stories. Painted a creamy yellow color, with a darker, mustard yellow trim the Dancing Pony had a large, well kept stable set at the side of the building. Herbs planted in the gardens combined with the smell of baking bread from inside the inn to create an inviting atmosphere.
Lord Michael was impressed, the inn appeared comfortable, and probably made a very decent profit. He rode his large bay gelding straight into the yard and the stables where the warhorse was taken by a human lad of about fifteen, who promised the Grand Knight that the horse would be given a good rub down before being fed. With a pleased nod, and a final pat of his mount he left the stables.
Walking across the yard to the inn’s front doors Lord Michael removed his heavy, leather riding gauntlets and tucked them into his belt. As he pushed open the double doors of the inn the knight was assailed with the heat coming off the roaring fire in the enormous fireplace on one side of the room.
Opposite the fireplace, positioned close to the stairs, was an ornately carved wooden bar shaped like a rounded right angle. Overstuffed armchairs were grouped around the fireplace and a large bookcase lined the wall opposite the doors, with the staircase above it. Although it was late afternoon this room of the inn, at least, was virtually deserted; apart from the dark haired elf behind the bar, there was only one other occupant, a dwarven female studiously reading from a scroll.
“May I help you with something sir?” the elven bartender asked Lord Michael.
“I've come to meet someone, I believe there’s a room booked here in my name,” replied Lord Michael smoothing his long silvery white hair back from his weathered face as he did so.
“And your name sir?”
“Lord Michael Strong.” At the name the elf’s purplish colored eyes widened in something very close to awe, the Grand Knight may not have been immediately recognizable but virtually everyone knew his name.
“Certainly sir, I'm afraid your guest has not yet arrived however, if you will follow me I will personally escort you to your room,” the elf said as he lifted part of the bar’s counter top and moved around to the front of the bar.
Before leaving, the elf gestured elegantly towards his now empty seat and there appeared on the seat a tiny white pony, standing on its back legs and giving every appearance of dancing. Michael raised his eyebrows, he realized it would likely be only il
lusionary yet it was still quite pretty.
“Can the horse see to any customers who might come in?” Michael asked as he followed the elf up the staircase.
“Oh yes sir, she can speak all the known languages, but of course her primary function is simply to let customers know I am unable to attend them at present, and of course to keep her eye on the cashbox.”
Michael gave a small laugh, although he was a priest and a warrior he did not share the universal distrust of arcane spellcasters that his fellow clerics had; in fact, he often wished he possessed some of their tricks.
The animosity between arcane and divine spellcasters had existed for a very long time, hundreds of years all told. It was extremely unlikely it would ever completely end and almost certain it would not occur during his lifetime. Not for the first time it crossed Michael's mind that the adventurers and mercenaries who wandered The Kingdoms should serve as an example to all. With adventuring groups anyone was welcome, any career, and any race; so long as they earned their keep and got the job done.
Now of course was not the time to voice such radical thoughts as that, the knight reflected to himself, his current errand if it were known would be controversial enough to most without adding outrageous ideas like universal cooperation.
The elf led Michael up two