As a group they marched past the gated entrance in silence. The announcement of their arrival had brought out all kinds of curious Stühocs peering out from behind corners and from windows in their huts and shanties. Silas had to grip the staff tighter to keep from shaking. They were in now and there was no turning back. Whatever decision they could have made to avoid this predicament was now lost to them.
As he looked from side to side, Silas was stunned to noticed how distinctly different each Stühoc appeared. Many had gaunt faces and sharp bones, but their structures varied. Their clothing was of various styles, yet still dull, lacking any vibrancy in color. Silas had always imagined that they spent their time dressed for battle and outfitted with armor. While that still may be their philosophy, what struck him so deeply was how Human they seemed to be. Obviously their skin tones and deep black eyes were quite different and they all carried a strong sulfuric smell about them, perhaps a gift from the land in which they abided. What kept them from being Human, it seemed, more than outward appearances, were the looks they gave the newcomers. Seething scowls were etched on every face as though murder was on their minds. Silas felt as though he was being chopped up and boiled in a stew in the imaginations of each of them. He shuddered at the thought.
They marched toward the fortress that towered above the city. The pits in their stomachs grew and fear gripped each of them. The fake Nestorians grew rigid as they reached the fortress gate, all of them knowing the most significant part of their travel was just beginning. They wished, as Silas did, that they were somewhere else. How in the world would Kaden have survived this environment for even a week? Surely his spirit would be broken by now. Silas could feel the weight of hatred and loathing all around him even though the Stühocs believed him to be a simple Nestorian trader. He couldn’t imagine what sort of environment Mudavé would be without the disguise.
After the guard did some talking with another, the gate to the fortress opened slowly inward. It was large and heavy, meant to delay any sort of siege that would come against it, should the outer wall ever be breached. The lead guard motioned for the group to follow. They traveled through a dead courtyard, made of the same gray stone as the mountain stronghold above it. Few statues lined the wall, many of them depicting war with figures missing limbs and looks of fear on their faces. They finally came to a large stairway that led to the interior of the fortress and climbed steadily until they were settled in an entrance hall lit by torches and fireplaces throughout. The rough floor along with the soot covered walls made for a less than appealing place to be by any standards. The Stühocs seemingly cared nothing of comfort. All they desired was their own power over the rest of Marenon.
Once they came to the middle of the square entrance hall, the guard turned to Garland.
“Wait here,” he said. “I will fetch my master for you. I am sure he will be most displeased that you are here this early.”
“Please tell your master that we are sorry for any inconvenience,” Garland said.
The guard frowned and spat on the ground once again. “Lord Maroke cares nothing for the apologies of anyone, much less Nestorian scum.”
The guard turned and walked away spitting and muttering to himself. Each of the five looked at the other, their eyes wide. Maroke? This was not what they had intended. Now they were to face the second in command over all of Mudavé.
Silas couldn’t help but feel that his plan to save Kaden may not have been wise after all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The group’s escort had moved back to the surrounding walls, keeping a close watch on them as they stood huddled and waiting in the dimness. They bunched together quietly to discuss what needed to be done next, but there were no answers.
“What do you mean we just have to face him? We’re not going to face him!” Alric said in a harsh whisper.
“It’s all we can do,” Garland said. “If we don’t then we will be caught and killed, or worse, turned.”
“He’s right,” Silas said. “Facing Maroke is our only way to get Kaden out of here.”
“What about all this about being early?” Inga said. “It sounds like they’ve been expecting a group of Nestorians.”
“It’s troubling me as well,” Garland said. “I never thought Nestorians scheduled anything. They’re usually just buyers that show up when they need more slaves.”
“Let’s just sit tight,” Julian said. “As long as we keep our masks on, we’ll be fine.”
After a few moments they heard noises in the distance. There were footsteps and animated speaking. Then they saw him. Maroke. He stepped from the archway at the end of the room surrounded by a handful of armed guards. His black armor flickered brightly with the reflection of the firelight. He stood taller than any man or Stühoc; his thick hair was pulled back and trailed down over both broad shoulders on the back of which was strapped a thick sword that could cut through stone. Beside him stood a Human.
Julian’s eyes widened when he saw him. Garland discretely placed a calming hand on Julian’s back reminding him to keep his composure. The man that walked beside Maroke was none other than Ward Holden.
I knew it, Julian thought. That smug traitor will pay! Maroke stood feet from the small band, towering above them, his square jaw tense. The scars running down his cheeks were tributes to wars of the past, wars in which he had fought against the man he was about to make dealings with.
“Why are you here?” Maroke belted out.
“To do business,” Garland answered.
“We should not be doing business for another week at least,” Maroke growled. “You come here unannounced and a week early.”
Garland remained hushed for a moment, no doubt weighing his next words carefully.
Julian stared at Holden, wishing more and more that he could confront the turncoat. For the good of the group he had to look at the ground. His breathing became heavier as anger coursed through him.
“We do apologize for the intrusion, but we need to meet now,” Garland said.
Maroke stood silent. Holden spoke. “Lord Maroke, however inconvenient their presence seems to be at this moment, it would not be wise to dismiss them. Our proposition is of significant importance.”
Maroke did not seem to be happy with a Human telling him what was wise and what was not, but he considered his ally’s comment anyway.
“Very well then,” he said with a snarl. He looked at each member of the group scowling, then gave a quick nod to the other guards that instructed them to leave and then addressed Garland. “Follow me.”
Not a word was said as the group of faux Nestorians followed Maroke and his Human ally, Holden, through the corridors of the fortress. There was little to no art throughout the stronghold. It felt as empty and heartless as an abandoned cave in the wilderness, and nearly as dark. They followed a maze of twisted hallways for several minutes until they finally reached the backside of the fortress. The group shielded their eyes as they stepped out onto a smooth stone rock. It was somewhat of a relief to be out of the dark hallways, even if the daytime was just as dull and gloomy with its hazy ash-filled air. He walked them out to a ledge overlooking an immense field completely packed with stone cages. The field seemed to go on for miles until at the very end was a wall that stood as a perimeter surrounding the area. In various spots they could see Stühoc guards garnishing whips and flogging the sides of the cages. Slaves!
“We told you that we had something special for you, should you decide to join our ranks against the Humans and Erellens.” Maroke motioned his hand to the field. “And here it is. The finest slaves we have to offer. They will all be yours as long as you swear your allegiance to us. You can use them in battles, for work, whatever you wish. Most of them are brainwashed to serve whatever master they are given.”
“Most?” Garland said.
“Of course, the new arrivals are still resisting,” Holden said.
Silas looked down at the village of oppressed Humans. They were no different
than he, except they had been stripped of their humanity, meant to serve any who claimed ownership. Kaden was somewhere down there at that moment, probably being slowly transformed. From what Silas could see, it looked as though none of them had been fed in weeks. How could the Stühocs do such a thing? His heart thumped hard with anger, but was subdued when he felt a slight squeeze on his hand. It was Inga. He turned to face her, and through the mask he could see her blink at him with reassurance. Behind his own mask he couldn’t help but smile at her. The squeeze had been just enough to settle his nerves, but not his disgust with what stood before them all. He turned away from her quickly. The towering Stühoc and the Human were planning something big. Were they getting ready to launch an attack on the Humans and Erellens at the same time? What kind of army did they have? Furthermore, what kind of army were the Nestorians gathering?
“Before we decide,” Garland said, “may we have a look at them? I want to see exactly what we will be receiving.”
Maroke huffed. “I have nothing to hide from you, Nestorian.” He turned and yelled over the ledge. “Gilrod!”
At that moment, a smaller Stühoc poked his head from behind one of the cages he was harassing, and when he realized who had called his name, he stood out in the open at full attention.
“My lord!” Gilrod belted.
“I want you to show these Nestorians whatever they wish to see down there and bring them back to me when they are finished.”
“Yes, my lord!” With that he began running toward the stairs and to the ledge where the group waited.
“I will be in my chambers,” Maroke said to no one in particular.
Garland bowed at the waist and the others imitated him. “Thank you, Lord Maroke,” Garland said.
“Do not wait too long to give an answer,” he said. “Time is of the essence.” Maroke turned his enormous frame and walked away from them all.
Holden gave a slight nod to the rest of them and left in the same direction. Gilrod was at the top of the stairs, breathing heavily from his run. Silas felt an immense amount of relief after Maroke left their presence. Perhaps there would be no conflict after all. It seemed that they were now on track to actually getting to Kaden and taking him out of there, assuming he was among the other slaves.
“Gilrod, at your service,” the miserable little Stühoc said with an awkward salute.
“Gilrod, we wish to see your most recent arrivals,” Garland said.
“Er-, all right,” Gilrod said, wiping his wet nose with a grimy hand. “Kind of a strange request to make.”
“All the more reason to see them,” said Garland.
Gilrod sighed. “Very well.”
They followed Gilrod down the stairs and into the field where the cages stood. Row after row, caged people sat in their own filth with nothing but buckets of fetid water to dink. Many of them had been crowded and shoved into a cage already filled to capacity. This left each person little room to rest. Silas could see their defeated spirits through sunken eyes. Without food or sleep, and under constant torture from their captors, these men and women had barely any humanity left. Many of them had no clothes on their backs, but were clothed, instead, with the scars of a Stühoc’s scourging. Regardless of what afterlife they were intended beyond Marenon, this was their hell.
The group walked on, row after row until they reached the end of the stony field. Every one in the group was looking for any sign of Kaden, but there was none. Finally, Garland asked Gilrod if there were any slaves captured within the week, and the creature told him that he was looking at them.
Garland looked in every direction to see if they were alone and saw there wasn’t a Stühoc anywhere in the vicinity other than Gilrod.
In a split second, Garland whipped off his mask and pulled his sword out from under his cloak, shoving it under the Stühoc’s chin.
“What are you-”
“Shut up!” Garland said, cutting the Stühoc short. “We are looking for Kaden Osric, where is he?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the Stühoc cried.
Garland shoved the creature to the ground and thrust the blade deeper into its neck so it began to cut. “If you don’t tell me where he is, I will kill you myself.”
Gilrod seemed to be crying, but no tears came. Finally he began to point to his left toward an opening in the wall at the end of the compound. “Hroth said to keep him secluded from the others. He’s a special one!”
“Show me!”
Garland pulled Gilrod from the ground and shoved him forward, his sword pointing at his back. Reluctantly the Stühoc walked through the opening in the wall. With one last look over their shoulders each person in the group took off their mask, relieved to get the weight off their faces. Gilrod led them down what looked to be an outdoor hallway with no ceiling leading to another opening that contained only one cage. This cage enclosed a battered and bloodied, yet still alive, Kaden Osric.
Gilrod pointed. “There,” he said. The Stühoc’s eyes traveled to his left, finally resting on Silas.
“Humans,” he spat disapprovingly.
Garland reared back and slammed the hilt of his sword on the back of the Stühoc’s head. The creature thumped to the ground and Silas bent down to grab the keys from his belt. He ran to the cage where Kaden was crouched, unaware of their presence until Silas came clanging to him.
“Kaden!”
The man turned and saw Silas as disbelief and then joy filled his face. Then he noticed the others. His eyes were wide. “Silas? What are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to get you out,” he answered, finally finding the key to open Kaden’s cell.
“But why?” He looked at Garland. “Why?”
“Silas, as well as these others, are convinced that our plan to let you gain the Stühoc’s trust is faulty,” Garland said. “And after what I’ve seen today I would have to agree with them.”
Kaden said nothing as Silas handed him a sword. “Hopefully I’m not going to need this later,” he said and gripped tighter to his staff.
Kaden lowered his head. He looked as though he hadn’t been fed since he had been captured a week before. His face was heavy with a thicker, untidier beard than when Silas had seen him before, and his clothes barely clung to his frame because of all the rips and slashes. “It’s good to see all of you. Where did the four of you get Nestorian masks?”
“The four of us?” Alric asked.
The puzzled group quickly looked in every direction, noticing that they were missing one of their own. Silas scanned every face seeing Inga, Alric, Kaden and Garland.
Julian was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Julian darted in the shadows of the dark, vacant halls of Maroke’s fortress, searching for any sign of the direction Holden could have gone. He had slipped away from the group before they went down the stairs to follow Gilrod. He hoped that they had found Kaden in good condition, but Julian had come for the purpose of confronting Holden. This would be his only chance to face him alone and without support from any other traitor that might be travelling the halls of Jekyll Rock. He would deal with this situation and get back to the others. And if he couldn’t meet up with them, he would find his own way out.
He continued the way they had first come and followed the path he saw Holden taking when he had left with Maroke. He sneaked through the corridor and back into the square hall that had since been deserted. He then silently made his way through the stone archway on the north side and continued down the dimly lit path until he came to a split. He walked cautiously down the corridor to the right, aware that there were too many possible directions Holden could have taken for Julian to stumble upon him accidentally.
As he crept around the corner he slid to a halt and hid behind the stone wall when he heard the footsteps of oncoming guards. Instinctively, he felt for the dagger under his cloak. Their voices and steps sounded closer and heavier with each passing second. One muttered to the other something about food and a
strange smell from the Nestorians. Julian gripped his dagger under his cloak firmly with one hand and his sword with the other. When the two Stühoc guards came into view, Julian jumped out, stabbing one through the throat with his dagger and shoving the other Stühoc against the wall, pressing his sword against his neck. Julian had been so quick that the guards didn’t have time to even cry out.
Julian motioned with his eyes to the dying Stühoc on the ground. “If you make a sound I swear that will be you before you finish a word.”
The shaking Stühoc said nothing.
“Where is Ward Holden staying in the fortress?”
The Stühoc remained silent.
“Answer me or you’re dead!”
Julian could sense the genuine fear from the Stühoc, fear that would cause him to say anything to live.
“On the third floor,” the Stühoc said. “West wing, fourth room. It’s the only occupied room on that wing.”
Julian sniffed and the stench of the Stühoc’s rotten breath made him want to vomit. Julian hated killing in cold blood, but since he was dealing with a Stühoc and since he couldn’t afford to leave any loose ends, he knew what he had to do. Without another breath he pressed his sword tight against the Stühoc’s throat and cut it cleanly through. As the Stühoc fell to the floor with gray blood spilling from the neck, Julian retrieved his dagger from the throat of the other Stühoc and stepped over his first victim toward the stairs. The second Stühoc bled out in mere seconds.
*****
At first, no one could figure what the next move should be in getting out of Mudavé. It was obvious what Julian was doing and that fact left him out of consideration when planning their escape. If Julian was around when they left, fine. There would be no second rescue attempt. Alric and Silas threw the unconscious Gilrod into Kaden’s former cell and locked it. He wouldn’t be making noise for a while. By the time he woke they would hopefully be long gone.
The Marenon Chronicles Collection Page 27