Shala stood transfixed looking at the chaos, the flames in the yard casting an orange glow through the tall library windows. Many of the books around her told of monsters and horrors befalling kingdoms now extinct. Is that our fate as well, to turn into a tragedy for a book?
Three orange globes sat in the sky like suns, Shala hypnotised by their approach. A strong hand grabbed her from behind, pulling her into a one-armed embrace so that she stared over the man's shoulder, her feet lifted from the ground. For a moment she thought Swarztial’s men had caught her, until the three fire pots crashed through the windows, and the carpet, the curtains and the book cases were all swept up in flames. She had just been spared a fiery death.
Her captor did not stop until she was dragged clear of the library, leaving it behind to be consumed. Putting her down the man still dragged her by the arm and she had no choice but to follow him, her legs flailing to keep up. Some of her senses returned to her and she dug in her heels. They came to a stop and he turned to her on the landing where the staircase split east and west. The man seemed all too familiar.
At first she saw the Wolf that had defended her right to the throne, the two bone-hilted bronze swords peaking over his shoulders, yet unmasked - and then she realized it was the face of Kaell looking down on her.
His face was grim; there was no familiar smile or innocence on him, and deep blue eyes had become icy and fierce. His hair was longer and hence a bit darker, and if it was at all possible he was taller, not by much, but enough so that Shala could realize it.
She put up her hand, dumbstruck, and set it gently against Kaell’s face as though she could wipe away the illusion. She was clearly not in her right mind. There were even small scars on his mouth and cheek as though he had been a lifelong warrior, as though all of this could have happened in the blink of an eye. And the cut he had sustained against Yanci-gan on his arm was there too, stitched up; they were one and the same person.
‘Kaell?’ she asked faintly, her voice caught mostly in her throat.
‘Yes Princess. It is I.’ His voice was different as well. It was the voice that had challenged Yanci-gan. Shala stood in a disbelief that surpassed any other madness till now.
‘Was I asleep for two years? What is happening? Have I lost my mind entirely?’ queried Shala.
‘No, Highness. I blossomed high in the mountain. That is the short and the long of it. And that is the only explanation I can afford for now.’
Shala’s eyes widened. ‘By what agency!? You are a cook, and you have never dabbled in anything but spices and ovens! You have no place in magic,’ she said in dismay despite the evidence in front of her eyes. If she could ask but one thing of the world it would be to give her some certainty.
‘It makes no sense,’ she continued, ‘how is it that you look older and battle-hardened?’
‘Because this is what I was before I became Kaell the cook, and in fact Kaell the cook was a fabrication.’
Many things came together in Shala's thoughts and still there was little sense to them, her mind a torrent as opposed to Kaell's frightfully calm explanation, suggesting she was just supposed to accept the change he had undergone. ‘It was you that defeated Yanci-gan, had I but known I might’ve recognized you that day! But the Kaell I know is weak and wasn’t even fond of a kitchen knife, what still of a sword?’
‘It was all part of a much needed illusion, Your Highness, not for your deception, but to those who plot against you,’ said Kaell. ‘But illusions are now to be put aside,’ he said looking up, his ears catching sounds of danger, ‘keep your wits about you Princess, we’ve got company.’
Shala turned and saw the shadows of goblins that had breached the castle play on the walls, fast approaching.
‘Let’s move Highness, keep close, and I’ll keep you safe.’ As they ran they came upon skirmishes in the halls, where the few of the castle guard that remained struggled against the goblins.
‘Where are we going?’ shouted Shala.
‘To nowhere they’ll expect us Princess, those goblins targeted your bed-chamber, the library and the griffin tower with their devices, and should anything remain they’ll scavenge through them in the aftermath.’
‘How could they possibly know where I spend my time?’ asked Shala.
‘They are informed, Highness, and I need not tell you who could provide such information for them.’ The answer was rather obvious, there was only one person who would betray Attoras like this.
Through the lower southern passages Shala followed the man she thought of as Kaell, and it seemed always that they avoided danger just in the nip of time, leaving the enemy only one step behind. From thereon Shala had no clue where the man was leading her. Only at one stage did they double back, hearing the enemy from the front. Kaell pulled the Princess into a broom cupboard, quickly closing it before the parade of goblins came streaming by.
They stood cramped, breathing on each other’s faces, Kaell listening intently to know whether it was safe outside. They stood like that for painful moments and then Kaell pushed on the door, coming out and looking up and down the corridor. He was ready to take off again and yet Shala shouted, ‘Wait, I must know, is there any consideration, for my servants and disciples and most of all deBella – they cannot all be dead!’
‘They are safe Highness, even before I caught up to you I locked deBella and all the others I could find in a pantry. They were outraged of course, but it will save their lives through this entire mess.’
‘Will we go there too then?’ asked Shala hopefully.
‘Afraid not Highness, it will not be enough to save you from the evil in this castle.
‘Where then!?’ demanded Shala, but the shriek of a goblin made Kaell grab her by the arm again and they took a flight of stairs that led to the servants’ quarters. Having a glance at the hand wrapped around her wrist she saw nothing of the dainty hands of the familiar cook. Rather they were rough and strong, like having worked at hewing trees or hammering metal. The transformation was alarming.
Haphazardly they fled after one another through the narrow passages of the servant’s quarters, the architecture being squeezed among a great many more important rooms, so that the kitchen hands and cleaning maids returned to their dorms through tiny passages reminiscent of those found on ships below deck. Suddenly Shala knew where they would end up next, and before she could doubt the thought they emptied out into the kitchen.
But the grand old home of pots and stoves was in chaos. The goblins were rampant across the counters and swinging from the pot holsters overhead, like apes, kicking and screaming at each other, fighting over the meals and foodstuffs they had come upon this day, their mission apparently forgotten.
Shala was ready to back into the passage again but Kaell rushed headlong into the centre of the kitchen. The goblins focused on him the moment they realized a man was in their midst, following him like dogs on a chase. Kaell set one foot across another and twirled through the air, the bronze blades cutting, and he moving through them like a glaive thrown.
In the wake of what Kaell left Shala followed, her sandaled feet landing among felled goblins, dead or dying. It was the first time Shala witnessed the blend of blades against true enemies and being as close as she was she could say it was equal parts terror and, for her at least, the knowing that she would be safe.
‘Where now?’ shouted Shala after him.
Kaell pulled her aside, and he hissed, ‘Hush!’
Shala was taken aback, but it could hardly show through her already taxed demeanour. Kaell had never before uttered a single harsh word at her.
‘We'll go to the throne room, and retrieve Erenciel, after that we may depart for the Dragonwell.’
‘Surely we can leave Erenciel behind? The goblins might not even notice it resting within the throne!’
Kaell shook his head. ‘It is not about saving the blade, Highness, but rather it saving us; my Master assured me there would be no escape for us without it.’
‘Master?’ queried Shala. ‘Wait, what do you mean by escape?’
The sound of pursuit came and Kaell grabbed her by the arm once more, feeling as a doll would she imagined. By now she was sick of it and wrenched free her arm. ‘Let go of me, I can move of my own accord!’
‘Very well,’ said Kaell and ran on, not looking back to see if Shala followed.
The Princess ran worriedly. Why would we flee to the Dragonwell? Shala had no worthwhile answer for it, and she was scared she would hate the answer if she would have to ask.
II
Bhask breathed deeply, and despite the grim task ahead of him he was still tremendously glad to be rid of a bed. His time spent in the infirmary had been punishing to a man of his nature. He arose on the eve of the chaos, escaping the main castle confines amid panicked citizens. The goblins paid him little heed, preferring weaker targets whose eyes shone with fear, or at least targets smaller than Bhask.
Still there were those whose bloodlust were great enough to overcome common sense. A goblin leapt at him near the armoury, and Bhask smashed it with a well waited fist right out of the air. The ribcage collapsed, and it lay shuddering in pain. He stepped over it and lifted the broken armoury door, pushing it up from its hinges, and then inwards, so that it fell on the floor.
Inside a hitherto trapped goblin darted at Bhask, where the furnace was still seething hot and red as it was left by a fleeing smithy. Bhask simply caught the creature in a crushing embrace to his chest with one arm, like a father muffling the cry of a child.
The creature squirmed where he held it, trying to sink teeth and weapons into him. Bhask kept the goblin’s dagger away with the other hand, clasped over the wiry but strong wrist. He walked forward unperturbed, examining the wall where the smithy had hung dozens of well-made swords, all the while worming his arm favourably around the goblin’s neck - until he twisted savagely to snap it, letting fall the creature.
In earnest now he decided upon swords, reaching high to retrieve himself two broadswords; one for each hand. He lifted them each straight up so that he formed a wide cross; he held them there for a few seconds, motionless as their weight pulled at the cuffs of his shoulders. He was still strong at least after all that time doing nothing. Strong enough.
Dream of Embers Book 1 Page 19