The Lords of Areon (The Chronicles of Areon Book 3)
Page 27
“Fairly,” the wizard nodded. “So, you may want to slip that necklace of yours back under your shirt. A hole opening up in the floor is conspicuous enough without having light flooding out of it.”
“Good point,” Kilren nodded. “Before we go any further though, there's a small change we have to make to the plan.”
“What's that?” Erana asked.
“I'm going with Gwendolyn,” he asserted.
“No, you're not,” his betrothed replied. “I am.”
“This is a prison, Erana,” he pointed out. “Which means, there's a good chance the door to the prince's cell will be locked. Not to mention the fact that he may be chained, as well. Do you think you could handle that?”
“We can both go,” she ceded.
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “We can't be sure what Gwendolyn may have to do between here and the prince. She should save her strength in case something unexpected happens. She may have to make the three of us invisible more than once, and who knows what else we might run up against.”
“Alright,” she sighed. “I have to admit that you have a point. Just be sure to keep her safe. And, yourself, as well.”
“Always,” he said with a slight smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek before she had time to stop him.
His smile widened as she did her best to give him a disapproving look, but failed completely to do so.
“Human custom,” he pointed out, before turning his eyes to Jalek. “Do it.”
Without a word, the wizard struck the ceiling with his staff. Instantly, the rock began to crumble to dust which fell into the very center of the circle of runes he had drawn on the floor, rather than directly beneath the hole. Seconds later, they could see the flickering lights of torches coming from the hole above them.
Kilren, with a helping hand from Darian, lifted his head cautiously into the dungeon above. The newly created entrance was in the very center of the passageway that ran between the cells at the very bottom of the prison. If the lieutenant could have had his way, he would have preferred the hole be placed in an empty cell, as that would have made its discovery even less likely.
All things considered, however, he couldn't help but feel that the Eilian had blessed them. The opening hole hadn't dropped some prisoner or, worse yet, some guard in their laps. Amazingly, they had managed to break in and, even more remarkably, none of their enemies knew that yet. If they wanted to make sure such remained the case, they needed to hurry.
Having made his observations, Kilren had Darian lower him once again. After a brief and whispered conversation, the decision was made to have the entire party – with the exception of Rragor – enter the tower. Kilren and Gwendolyn would find and rescue the prince, while the remainder of the band stood guard over the entrance in order to ensure that the rescuers had an open avenue of escape after their task was complete.
Before this plan was put into motion, Gwendolyn made Kilren and herself invisible; whispering her spells as softly as she could. The pair climbed through the hole and headed for the stairway at the end of the passage, hand-in-invisible-hand. The moment they were gone, Erana – with a bit of help from Darian – climbed through the hole, quickly followed by the lord, the bard, the wizard, and, finally, the knight.
Darian was not only the least dexterous of these four, he was also covered in the heaviest and noisiest armor. As a result, although he managed to make his way into the passageway as quietly as he could, he wasn't exactly as totally silent as his companions had been. Ian simply gazed at the ceiling and shook his head as a voice called out from one of the cells.
“Hello,” the voice said. “Is someone there?”
The entire band sat silent and still as they waited for the speaker's curiosity to subside.
“Who are you?” asked another voice from a cell slightly closer at hand. “How did you get down here?”
“Who are you?” Ian replied, turning his eyes to the small barred window in the door of the cell of the second speaker. “How did you get down here?”
“My name's Mort,” the man replied. “The charming young man in the other cell is called Kal.”
“I'm Krellin,” another voice added.
“Which has nothing to do with me or Kal,” Mort replied.
“Gentlemen,” Ian said softly, “I think it would be best if we were to keep our voices down.”
“You don't need to worry about that,” Kal assured him. “We're basically ignored down here. Unless we start screaming for the guards, we're not likely to attract anyone's attention.”
“I trust you have no intentions of doing that?” Gregor said.
“Why would we?” Mort asked. “You're here on your business, just like we're here because of our business. Of course, if you could find it in your hearts to set us at liberty, you'd certainly have our appreciation.”
“Why were you imprisoned?” Darian asked.
“Kal and I,” Mort said, “seem to have developed the rather bad habit of working for the wrong people. Our latest employer was an excellent young man by the name of Prince Forlan who had the misfortune of being captured by the forces of Mikral. For our sins, we were with him at the time.”
“I was falsely accused of murder,” Krellin interjected. “If you let me out of here, you'll be saving the neck of an innocent man.”
In silent prayer, the Telian asked the gods to open his eyes and reveal the true nature of these prisoners. Kal, who was roughly half the age of his companion, could be trusted. Something about Mort struck the young knight as odd, there was something about him that he couldn't explain, but he was certain that freeing him would be the right thing to do. Krellin was a different matter. His soul was as dark as his sinful life had been. He deserved the fate that had found him.
“You killed him in cold blood,” Darian said, his eyes locked on the face of the imprisoned villain.
“No, Sir, I didn't,” Krellin replied with a smile. “I swear by everything holy. He rushed at me with a knife; I had no choice but to defend myself.”
“There's no point in lying to him,” Gregor pointed out. “He's a Telian.”
“That sounds like my luck here lately,” Krellin chuckled. “Well, it was worth a try. The truth is that he had more gold than he did sense. It was only a matter of time before somebody cut his throat for it. Who knows what innocent I may have saved from temptation by doing that myself? The way I figure it, I probably rescued some other poor soul from damnation. That being the case, it seems to me that I ought to be thanked rather than hanged.”
“I doubt the Telian will agree with you there,” Mort speculated.
“I certainly don't,” Darian said, turning his eyes to the speaker. “You and Kal are welcome to come with us, though.”
“We'd love to,” Mort replied. “Provided you can open the doors of our cells.”
“With the greatest of ease,” Ian replied with a smile, pulling his picks from his pocket.
“What about me, Telian?” Krellin asked.
“You deserve to be hanged,” was his concise reply.
“Well, as lying didn't work,” Krellin said, “I believe I'd better bargain.”
“I doubt you have anything to offer that could interest him,” Mort observed.
“Oh, but I think I do,” the rogue disagreed. “I think I have quite a bit to offer.”
“Like what?” Gregor asked.
“Like not screaming my head off,” Krellin said with a wide smile. “I'm guessing you're not down here to have a midnight picnic. No. If I had to guess, I'd say you've come to rescue someone. I'm positive that whatever you're here for, you don't want to have to explain it to the guards.”
“We could just kill you,” the young lord pointed out with a smile of his own. “Sir Darian can act as judge, jury, and executioner and he seems to have already decided that you deserve to die.”
“You could,” Krellin nodded. “But, I promise you that I won't leave this world without making quite a bit of noise. Besides, you'
ll have to get through the door before you can kill me and that will give me more than enough time to summon the guards.”
“Getting us killed won't save you,” Darian replied. “Repent and ask the Eilian for mercy. Maybe you'll be forgiven before you're hanged.”
“I suppose that's possible,” Krellin nodded. “On the other hand, the odds are probably better that I'd be given a pardon for helping prevent a jailbreak. Guards! Mort found a way out of his cell!”
“Where do you think they're keeping him?” Gwendolyn whispered as the pair paused on the third landing they had come to.
“If I had to guess,” Kilren replied softly, “which, obviously, I do, I'd say he was probably on the top floor. Traditionally, that's where they keep their most important prisoners.”
“How tall is the tower?”
“Seven stories, I believe.”
“Where are we now?”
“I think we're on the second floor.”
Without another word, Gwendolyn resumed climbing the narrow stairway, pulling Kilren along behind her. On the next landing sat a table surrounded by several chairs, at which a single watchman was occupied by lazily tossing a pair of dice time and again. Beyond this single sentry was a wide and opened doorway, through which the pair could clearly make out a number of cots currently covered by several slumbering guards. Eilian willing, these men would remain in repose until long after they were gone.
Although Kilren was nearly correct, The Tower of the Dawn proved to be eight stories high, rather than seven. When they reached its top, however, they were certain they had come to the right place. Six guards, who were both wide awake and deep in conversation, sat outside the single door that led beyond the landing. They were well armed and armored, as well as being large and muscular.
“I'll be honest, Gwendolyn,” Kilren whispered to the maiden, his hands cupped around his mouth and her ear, “I don't think I can fight all six of them. Especially without making enough noise to attract the attention of the guards downstairs.”
“I believe I can handle them,” she replied, her lips almost touching his ear.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted.
“Well, give it a try, I guess,” he said. “We've come this far. I'd hate to go back without even making an attempt.”
In reply, she began to sing; almost inaudibly at first, but growing ever so slightly louder as she proceeded. As the lieutenant listened, his eyes began to lose focus and he found himself having a hard time keeping his head up. More than once before she brought the tune to an end, his chin dropped to his chest causing him to jerk his head back and open his eyes. By the time she finished, all six of the guards were sound asleep and Kilren was gently slapping his face in an attempt to combat the weariness that was overcoming him.
“Well, that seems to have worked,” Gwendolyn said, a sound of sincere satisfaction in her voice. “Come on.”
“It’s hard to stay awake when you do that,” Kilren observed with a quiet yawn.
“I know,” the maiden replied with a sense of pride. “That's the point.”
The moment the imprisoned villain began screaming, Ian started chanting in a sing-song voice. Even though Darian couldn't make out the words, the tune filled his imagination with thoughts of tranquility and peace, of serenity and silence. Suddenly, the yelling ceased. In point of fact, all at once, the chamber seemed to be filled with complete and total quiet.
For a moment this confused Darian. He could see that Krellin was still attempting to yell at the tops of his lungs, but he wasn't making a sound. For fractions of a second, he considered the possibility that the rogue might have lost his voice but, subconsciously, he knew there had to be more to it than that. For one thing, Erana seemed to be saying something to him, but he couldn't hear her, either. By way of a test, he tapped his foot on the stone floor. Nothing. He couldn't hear a thing.
“I've gone deaf,” he said, turning his somewhat shocked countenance toward the elvish maiden.
At least, he thought he said it. As he couldn't hear, it was very difficult to be sure. Of course, he could still feel, and it felt like he had spoken. It was kind of like when you lose your voice. You know how to talk and you know when you're talking, you just can't hear it at all. While these thoughts were running through his mind, Erana kept trying to tell him something.
“I've gone deaf,” he repeated somewhat more loudly.
She kept speaking, clearly becoming more agitated and pointing toward the stairway at the end of the passageway.
“I can't read lips,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head slightly.
The elvish maiden grabbed him by the wrist, led him over to the staircase, and pushed him up against the wall on one side of it. Having done this, she took up a position on the other side. During this brief period, Ian had pulled out his picks and gone to work. Just moments later, a guard stepped into the chamber, walking past Darian and Erana without taking any notice of them.
As soon as the watchman spotted the dwarf, he drew his sword and attempted to yell for help. At the same moment, Erana mouthed something to Darian.
“I can't read lips,” he reminded her.
In response, she mimed punching herself in the head while pointing at the somewhat bewildered guard. With a wide smile and a confident nod, the Telian stepped up behind his sword-wielding adversary. By this time, the watchman had realized that he was outnumbered, as well as unable to call for aid. As a result, he spun around; intending, no doubt, to run for help. The flying fist of the young knight prevented him from doing this, however. Darian struck his opponent in the face with all the considerable force he could muster, knocking the unfortunate fellow down and out with a single blow.
Under the circumstances, Ian had decided to open Krellin's cell first. Mere moments after this was done, both the formerly yelling rogue and the currently unconscious guard were bound and gagged. Less than a minute after this was finished, Darian was very happy to find that his hearing had returned.
“It looks like your invisibility spell lasted just the right length of time,” Kilren said, stepping up to the door, quite visibly, with lock-picks in his hand. “Will you be able to cast it three more times?”
“Easily,” she assured him.
“This may take me a minute,” the lieutenant said, “my guess is that this lock is probably going to be tricky.”
“You know what might be faster?” the maiden asked.
“What's that?”
“Using the key,” she said, pointing toward the ring hanging from the belt of one of the sleeping sentries.
“Funny,” he said with a smile before turning his attention to acquiring the key.
“Who's there?” a voice asked quietly from beyond the door.
“We're looking Prince Forlan,” Gwendolyn replied.
“You've found him,” the voice said. “That doesn't tell me who you are, however.”
“Friends,” she assured him. “We're here to rescue you.”
Kilren slid the key into the lock and quickly opened the door. In the chamber, stood a young man just a few years older than the lieutenant with dark hair and dark eyes. His clothing – which he was still in the process of putting on – was regal, but not lavish. As he sat down on the bed to pull on his boots, he turned his eyes to the pair.
“Friends,” he said, “aren't something I'd expect to find here. So, before I agree to go anywhere with you, I want to know more. Who are you and why are you here?”
“I'm Kilren and this is Gwendolyn,” the lieutenant replied, “although, I'm sure our names don't mean anything to you. However, I think the fact that we've broken in here to save you should mean something.”
“It would,” the prince nodded, “if I knew anything about you. Such is not the case, however. Who sent you?”
“No one really sent us,” Gwendolyn replied. “We just heard you'd been captured and we decided to rescue you.”
“Why?”
“King Palnar is a war monger,” Forlan observed aloud.
“Yes, he is,” the lieutenant agreed. “It was our hope that if we freed you, your father would declare war on Mikral again. If he finds himself facing two enemies, King Palnar may become a little more ready to discuss peace.”
“I can't assure you that my father would take such a course of action,” the prince replied. “If those are the terms for my freedom, I'm afraid I can't accept them.”
“We're here to rescue you, one way or the other,” Gwendolyn replied. “We need to go. I don't know how long my sleep spell will last.”
“Very well,” Forlan replied, rising from the bed. “I'll see that you're well rewarded; whatever else my father may or may not be willing to do.”
“That won't be necessary,” the maiden said with a smile. “We need to hurry.”
Moments later, Gwendolyn had rendered all three of them invisible and they were quickly making their way down the stairs hand-in-hand.
“So, none of you could hear anything?” Darian asked.
“Of course not, lad,” Ian chuckled. “That spell suppresses all sound. It's one I just recently learned to cast.”
“You should have used it before we came in,” Gregor said with a smile.
“That thought occurred to me the moment I heard Kal speak,” Ian nodded. “Still, under the circumstances, I think it worked out for the best.”
“How much longer do you think they'll be?” the knight asked.
“Not long,” Kilren replied, suddenly appearing mere feet from the Telian.
“You did it!” Darian said with a smile.
“We did,” Gwendolyn nodded.
The moment the maiden became visible, both Mort and Kal turned their faces away from her. This action, however, escaped her attention.
“Who are these two?” the lieutenant asked.
“Two of my former escorts,” Prince Forlan replied. “I'm happy to see that you were able to rescue them, as well.”