“Who will I face?” Dawyn asked.
“Why, my greatest champion, Golivar. He will relish destroying you.” Ferdinand looked at Bertram. “Take him to the arena and prepare him. Have the woman put in proper attire and taken to my viewing box. She will be seated next to me as her lover dies.”
“What if I succeed?” Dawyn asked.
Ferdinand laughed. “If you succeed in killing my champion, you may do as you wish with me. You may even kill me.” His voice made it clear that he did not expect that to be an option.
Dawyn made eye contact with Anwyn and tried to make his gaze as reassuring as possible. He had no intention of dying. He gave a slight nod to emphasize his unspoken thoughts. She gave an almost imperceptible nod in return, before they were separated.
Chapter 21 - Binding
Jason walked through the streets of Tar Ebon without purpose after parting ways with Ashley and John. At the late hour, most of the vendors were closing up, while the taverns and inns throughout the city were just beginning to get busy. He stopped by the water’s edge for a warm meal of fresh whitefish. Returning to the Dancing Mare so soon held little appeal to him, so he decided to take a meandering path back to the tavern, one which took him through the royal district and next to the palace.
Jason walked down an alley a street away from the walls of the palace when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A figure stood, pressed close against the wall, down the street. The person was dressed all in black, with his hood up. As Jason watched, the figure manipulated something with his hands and a doorway slid open. They entered without a glance around. Curious, Jason moved to where the figure had been. An opening in the wall, equal to the size of an average person, was before him. In the fading light of the evening, Jason could see a stairwell which ran down after a small landing.
Something about the figure did not sit well with Jason. The way he had acted, and been dressed, brought to mind the ninja movies from back home on Earth. He thought about the direction of the stairs. They slanted downward and to the west, toward the palace. He looked around, but saw no one. The door began to slide closed and Jason made the choice to rush inside before the door completed the motion.
As the door shut with a click, Jason found himself in absolute darkness. He felt in front of and to the side of himself. Cold stone walls lay to his left and right, while his fingers touched nothing ahead. Remembering the stairs he had seen in the faint light, Jason took a timid step forward, testing the ground with his foot before bringing the other foot forward. After a few steps, his foot met only air, and he moved it down until he felt a stair step. Keeping his arms out to feel for the walls, Jason began to descend the stairs.
After a short while, Jason came to a door. He felt for the door handle and it creaked open. Stepping inside, he found himself in a long hallway lit with torches, the end of which he could not see. He stopped and surveyed the entrance he had come through. There was no further path down, no alternate entrances. Next, he looked at the floor. Having seen many movies where traps lay hidden in such mysterious hallways, Jason looked for possible patterns in the floor stones and along the walls. He looked for openings where razor sharp blades might swing out on pendulum movements, or spike traps that might poke up from the floor. He noticed no pattern to the floor tiles - they were all unadorned stone - and saw no overt openings where traps might lay in wait.
Satisfied enough that traps did not await him, Jason began to move down the hallway. He moved slowly, his ears listening for the slightest sound, his eyes open as wide as possible to take in everything. At one point he stopped, thinking he heard whispers, but convinced himself it was just paranoid delusions on his part. After several minutes, Jason reached the door at the end of the hallway and pulled it open.
Stairs lay before him, extending up into the darkness. Sighing, Jason stepped forward into the darkness and began to ascend the stairs. After a time, he came to a landing. Feeling above himself, he felt only the cold stone of the ceiling. He moved his hands around him until he fumbled upon a latch, which he pulled.
The panel slid aside with barely a whisper, and Jason stepped into a chamber. Once inside, he glanced around. His eyes, already adjusted to the darkness from the journey up the stairs, tried to make out his surroundings in the faint light. Tapestries hung along much of the four walls. One such tapestry appeared to depict a great battle; which battle, he didn't know. The others were too far distant to make out in such poor light. Across the room, the sole source of light resided, two candles held within sconces fastened to the wall, flanking a set of double doors. Mirrors sat behind the candles, reflecting the light so it was amplified across the vast room. He noticed a single door along the left wall. Other sconces lined the room, and Jason guessed they would provide quite a bit of illumination to the room if they were all lit.
The night had become cloudy as storms threatened. Little light entered the room through the tall window along the right wall that appeared to lead onto a balcony. In front of him was a high-backed chair with its back to him, preceding two couches which sat facing each other. A table sat in the center between the couches, with another high-backed chair beyond, its back to the illuminated doors. It was some sort of sitting room; an antechamber that would lie outside of a bedroom. Back home he would have called it a living room, but he was slowly becoming accustomed to the terms of this new world.
Jason began to walk toward the source of the light, walking to the right around the chair, when suddenly he felt a hand on his back and he was shoved forward. He had been standing in front of the left arm of the rightmost couch and found himself tripping over that and landing face first in its cushions. A hand jerked his shoulder so that he spun onto his back, the other hand, gloved, clamped over his mouth to prevent him from shouting out in surprise. Jason looked into the face of a masked figure, a piece of dark cloth covering his mouth and nose so that only blue eyes peeked out. Panic set in and he tried to struggle away, tried to make sense of it all, but the figure was straddling him and prevented him from escaping. He tried to call upon his magic, to send the assailant flying back with a fist of air, or burn him with a ball of fire, but he felt as though a heavy shroud lay over his mind. His mind sought release from his body, but was denied by some unknown force. He felt the coldness of steel pressed against the skin of his neck. A female voice warned, "Stop struggling if you want to live." Jason became still, his eyes wide.
The woman studied him for a moment and then leaned her head in to breathe in his left ear, "Will you promise not to scream or shout if I remove my hand from your mouth?" At Jason's hurried nod, followed by a wince of pain, for he had nicked the knife when he nodded, the woman leaned back and removed her hand from his mouth, letting it fall to her side.
A hundred questions flashed through Jason's mind, but what came out in a whisper was, "Please don't hurt me, I was just looking around, I wasn't going to steal anything." She had spoken in a whisper and so Jason did as well, not wanting to cause more trouble by waking any people sleeping in the adjoining chambers.
"Why were you following me?" she asked.
"I...well...I saw you come in through a door in the alleyway. I was curious as to what you were doing so I followed you. I didn't mean you any harm." The words came out of his mouth in a rush.
The woman snorted. "As if you could hurt me,” she said with contempt.
"What are you doing here?" Jason asked. He was afraid he knew the answer to that question, considering the knife in her hand and the familiarity with which she used it.
"Why, I'm going to assassinate the king," she confided matter-of-factly. "But first, I must decide what to do with you," she trailed off, malice in her voice.
The king! What had he gotten himself into? Oh God, this assassin was going to kill him and then murder the king. His voice quavering, he asked, "The king? Why would you want to do a thing like that?"
The assassin hesitated, as if wondering whether she should tell this man whom she inte
nded to kill, for Jason had little doubt she would kill him, her reasons. At last it seemed she decided it would do no harm to tell him, he wouldn't live to reveal any of it. "It is my job. I was ordered to kill the king by my master. It's nothing personal."
"Oh, well, it's nice to know it's nothing personal when you slit my throat," Jason said sardonically. Perhaps if he kept talking, someone would walk in and save him. No, anyone walking in on the scene would cause the conversation to end and he'd be killed where he lay. He had to think of something, and fast! "You can't honestly believe you'll get away with killing the king and still be allowed to escape. They will hunt you to the ends of the earth to bring you to justice."
"You should feel lucky. I could have slit your throat without you even knowing I was there. Instead, I offered you a chance to explain yourself. Perhaps I made a mistake. As to my assassination attempt, perhaps I want to die, have you considered that?" There was almost a hint of...remorse...in her voice. Did she really want to commit suicide in such a way?
Jason couldn't have explained why, but he felt something toward this woman. He had always had an affinity toward other human beings; had always wanted to help anyone he met who truly needed it. He had to try and save this poor woman. "Is your life truly that terrible? Do you care nothing for yourself? To sacrifice your life for nothing seems quite foolish. Don't you have family, friends, a home to return to? Won't someone miss you when you're gone?"
"My family was lost to me many years ago, and my 'friends' would not blink at stabbing me in the back. As for my home...I was taken from my home years ago and cannot return. For many years I have done as my master commands, but now I have lost hope, and this may be the way to find reprieve. This may be a way to escape."
"I understand," Jason began, "at least about the whole family and home thing. My friends are the best I could ask for. But I too was taken from my home world..."
"Home world?" the assassin snapped, cutting off Jason's reminiscence. "You mean to say you are not from this world?"
"Well, yes, I mean, no, I am not from this world. I was born on a planet called Earth." He and the others had kept it a secret from most people they met, knowing what sort of problems it may cause, but Jason knew that his life was on the line, and so he bared the truth to the woman still straddling him. "A few months back, two of my friends and I suddenly found ourselves on this world. We don't know how we got here, but we've been trying to learn about magic in the hope it will help us find a way back."
"Have you met any others from Earth?” She didn’t mull over the strange term like others from this world had - nor did she express disbelief or name him a liar.
A thought came to him. "Your home, was it on Earth?" That would make sense that she had come from Earth like he and his friends. But she had said that she'd been taken from her home years ago...just like Dawyn. "You didn't have a brother did you? A brother named Dawyn?" It was a gamble...but he had heard Dawyn talking of a sister one evening. He said she had been lost years ago. He feared she was dead.
Suddenly he was lifted up by his tunic, the knife still pressed against his neck. "Where did you hear that name? Have you met him?" There was urgency and something else, in her voice in that instant, something indescribable.
"I have met him. My companions and I travel with him. He's staying at one of the taverns in town with us right now. He’s out of town at the moment, but he should be back soon." He hesitated. Here was his ticket to keeping his life. "I can take you to him if you want."
She released his tunic and he flopped back down onto the cushions. Getting off of him, she tucked the knife back into the sheath at her belt and said, "Yes, take me to my brother."
"So you've given up wanting to kill the king...and me?" Jason asked, moving into a sitting position and at last being able to wipe off the thin line of blood from his neck. The cut was shallow and had already congealed.
"Nothing matters to me now but seeing my brother again. Let's go." The assassin turned toward the panel that Jason had only a few minutes ago entered through and prepared to leave, but stopped when she heard the double doors behind her open up, the rather bright light of the room beyond illuminating the room. Jason turned to see a figure silhouetted in the doorway.
"Not so fast, my young intruders. You and I must have a little chat." The voice belonged to a husky man, and fit the large frame that stood before them. The man did something to the sconce on his right and suddenly all of the candles around the room lit up with an audible whoosh. Jason had been right, the candles, when all lit, provided a remarkable amount of illumination, more than enough to identify the man who stood before him.
The man was tall, perhaps only an inch or two shorter than John, putting him at over six feet. He had a long beard which had grown down to the hollow of his neck, with a mustache and large, bushy eyebrows. His hair was short, and he appeared to have a receding hairline, as only the hair on the sides of his head was thick. His hair was a dark brown, with touches of gray beginning to show in his beard and mustache. However, to Jason's eyes the gray made this man before him look distinguished, powerful, wise and knowledgeable. Jason's eyes were met by gray eyes that seemed to match the streaks of silver in his hair. The eyes portrayed a kindness, though it was clear this man had seen many things, good and bad, in his time. But it was the head-wear of the man that identified him. Atop the man’s head was a gold band with an image of the hawk of Tar Ebon growing upward from the front. The crown of Tar Ebon. It was at that moment that Jason realized the man before him was the king.
Jason immediately gave a low bow, his head coming level with his waist and then back up, not sure exactly how to show respect to a king. Dawyn had been giving Jason and the others lessons on etiquette in the Tower and in various social settings, but he hadn't yet touched on the subject of court etiquette. Though that was understandable, considering none of them had been expecting to meet the King of Tar Ebon, ever. Regaining his senses, Jason at last spoke to the man. "Forgive us, my king, for disturbing your rest. We were just going."
The cloaked assassin, however, had drawn her original dagger plus an additional one from another sheath resting on her other hip. She looked to be considering her options. Her eyes darted around the room, perhaps looking for an escape route. Jason followed her eyes for a moment and saw what she was worried about. In each of the four corners of the room there now stood a cloaked figure, their hoods drawn up to hide their faces. In each of their hands was a miniature crossbow, three of which were aimed at the assassin. Jason was discomforted to see the fourth was aimed at him.
The king let out a hearty chuckle that transformed into a regretful sigh as his eyes moved from Jason to the assassin and back. "I'm afraid it's not that simple, my boy. You see, this young woman was planning on assassinating me, as you are aware. The penalty under Tar Ebon law for conspiring to murder the king is quite severe." He began moving to his left toward the window. At seeing Jason's eyes widen in surprise that the king knew what the assassin had been planning, the king responded, "I was alerted to both of your presences the moment you entered the tunnel. I was curious as to what your business was. I ordered my Shadow Watch Guard to allow you to go where you would. I was standing on the other side of the door, listening."
Jason tried to swallow the lump in his throat with little success. He faced the king and asked, "What will you do with us, my king?" Jason worried about not only his own life, if the king thought he had been in on the plan, but also the life of this assassin whose brother was Dawyn. It would be some cruel joke to have her learn that her brother was so close and then lose her life before seeing him again.
"Come, we will discuss this further in the throne room." He gestured toward the single pane door that Jason had seen when he first entered the room. The guard in the corner between the door where the king had emerged and the single pane door had moved to the door and opened it a crack, speaking in a whisper to someone outside, presumably the guards watching the door. Jason noticed that the man’s cloak
had an image of a large white hawk on the back of it, wings outstretched and claws bared as if it were striking down on its prey. "My guards will show you the way. You will not be harmed by them. But I warn you," he said, a dangerous edge entering his voice. “Do not try to escape, or any chance of forgiveness or pardon will be forfeited." With that he returned to his room, moving to close the door behind him.
As he closed the door, Jason noticed a woman who had been standing off to the side, a short way behind where the king had first stood. She must be the queen, Jason thought, as he noticed the golden band around her head. He could catch barely a glimpse of her before the doors clicked shut, however.
"Well," Jason began, turning to face the assassin, "I suppose we should do as the king orders. Come along, assassin." With that he slipped around the couch to his right and moved toward the door. The guards merely watched. Jason turned back to ensure the assassin was following him and found her close behind him. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he opened the heavy door in front of him and walked out into a large corridor.
Flanking the door, as Jason had suspected, were two guards. They were markedly different from the guards that had appeared within the king's antechamber. They wore black breeches with dark red coats buttoned up tightly. They each wore a conical helm and held a halberd in their hand that lay closest to the door. The guards glanced at the two who had just vacated the room, and having been told of their presence, seemed to become disinterested and return to staring straight ahead. Directly in front of the door, standing board-straight, was a woman of Jason's height, wearing a black cloak identical to those guards within, this time with the hood down. Chin-length brown hair framed a thin face holding sharp gray eyes that were studying Jason and his companion. They reminded Jason of the king. Jason could tell she was shapely, despite the cloak, her thin frame accentuating her toned body.
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