Together, both guards and soldiers funnelled through the throng, shields raised for protection from the many missiles now being thrown.
The crowd grew belligerent, and several violent men and women with clubs and other makeshift weapons lurched forward trying to beat a path through the barricade.
Dalia, however, was ready. Marrok distinctly heard her yelling, ‘Flank them. Clear a path to the left.’
More soldiers ran into the fray and pushed aside any rowdy individual. It was a difficult task preserving order versus hurting a civilian. Fortunately, with restraint, they managed only to cause minor injuries to the mob.
Reaching the bluestone and sandstone palace was a relief to all. Everyone piled inside the courtyard, and heavy iron gates were shut against the crowd. Captain Triel issued orders for her men to stand guard at the gates. ‘You, orc, get Jarek inside, quickly,’ she hollered.
Len’i snarled at her rudeness and complied. He ran to where Jarek was forced to sit while the guards protected the gates, and scooped him up in his strong arms. He raced towards the main entrance of the palace, kicked open the door and ran inside.
‘Archmage, follow Len’i inside, quickly,’ Coinin urged.
‘I really think it better if –’
‘I don’t wish to row with you, but your safety is paramount.’
Zaruun stepped forward and gestured to the palace entrance. ‘Archmage, if you will.’
Although not looking too happy having to leave the foray, Menin exited with grace and a swish of her cloak.
Zaruun stooped to Coinin’s height and whispered, ‘Thank you, she has been intolerable of late, so many risks.’
Coinin knew very well that Menin continued to strain at the bit in her desire to be in the thick of things. Being an archmage was in no way as exciting as a curatorship.
‘Give her time. She’ll mellow eventually.’
Zaruun nodded and trotted after Menin.
The solid, iron-studded, oak doors of the palace closed behind him with a clang, sealing all outside.
With a roar, the crowd grew furious. Being denied their prize sent the Underworlders into greater fury and a new attempt to climb or shake the gates loose ensued.
All guards stood to with shields and swords, ready to repel any surge. The crowd roared ‘one, two, three,’ again and again as the gates were pushed, pulled and buckled with every shove.
‘Stand ready,’ Triel bellowed, her deep tones cutting through the rabble’s noise. She clutched a dull, steel shield to her breast and then extended a leg behind her. She planted a foot firmly in the dirt and waited for the inevitable. ‘Do not let them through under any circumstances. The use of force is permitted.’
Before Marrok or Jericho could object - there was no way they were going to order their men to assault innocents - a magically enhanced voice boomed around the cavernous space and bounced off the walls. ‘Cease and desist!’
Shocked faces circled the crowd, all of whom immediately fell silent and cowered.
Coinin got the impression the people of this underground dungeon had heard the voice before.
‘Pray listen to your King, Riley Thymes,’ the voice boomed once more.
At the word, that Riley was now king, the crowd grew excited, all semblance of their attack on the palace lost. They began to chant, ‘the king, the king.’ Almost as one, they raised their arms in the air as if reaching for something on a high shelf.
Coinin and the others turned to face the palace and saw the reason why. Riley stood upon a balcony of an upper floor, dressed resplendently in an ankle-length robe, lilac and shimmering in the torchlight. He looked much the same, if a little less stressed. His face was still grey, and his teeth still pointed, though he was less skeletal in appearance.
The new king, yet to be crowned, raised his hands for silence. ‘Yes, yes, my friends. Pray heed my words. As you know, we have a new visitor to our humble home, one who shall be staying for a very long time.’
The crowd laughed and crowed enthusiastically.
‘I have good news for you all. You are free of the bonds of the prison. The spell that binds us to this place has lifted. Underworld is no longer your home. I promise you this day that we will walk from this abyss as free men, women and children. The sun, the moon, the stars are yours, go now, be free. In a few days we shall leave this place, though I will not stop anyone who wishes to leave this day. The journey is long, and we must provision for the voyage. I hereby declare today liberty day. Take this time to enjoy yourselves.’
A great cheer rang out and people jubilantly danced and clapped or hugged one another in sheer delight. Within seconds, jugs of ale appeared out of nowhere, and the real celebrations began.
Marrok chuckled; he doubted a single one of them would be fit enough to walk in the morning without at least a crushing headache. They had left Major Quindil with the galleon, to ensure no thieving pirate made off with it while they were gone. Tonight was going to be some party, and the poor Major would miss out.
The guards opened the gates and began to dance and clap alongside the civilians, happy to be free at last.
One young boy, Marrok noted, stood aside from the others and appeared to be crying, not tears of joy, but deep sobs. He ventured over to the auburn-haired, green-eyed youngster of about ten years old. He wore what amounted to mere rags, a hessian sack with a hole cut into the bottom and placed over his head. His arms stuck out of holes in the side and a thin rope tied around the waist finished the ensemble. It was evident that the boy had not lived long enough below ground for its unique environment to begin changing him into a grey skinned, bald headed human like those around him.
Marrok dropped to his knees, cocked his head and smiled at the boy. ‘Hello, I’m Marrok,’ he said as non-threateningly as possible. ‘Why do you cry so?’
The boy sniffed and wiped his eyes. His chest heaved with a sob, and he looked tearfully at Marrok. ‘I’m scared.’
‘Scared of what?’
The boy pursed his lips. ‘The other boys told me that my skin would burn off with the sun and a giant will eat me if we go outside.’
Marrok laughed heartily and placed a calming hand upon the child’s shoulder. ‘What utter nonsense. Has my skin burned off?’
The boy inspected Marrok for burns, and when satisfied, he grinned.
‘I’m from up there.’ Marrok pointed towards the cavernous ceiling. ‘Above us is every wonder to behold. Wind, rain, sun, snow, green, green grass and such expanses of water like you have never seen. Dry those tears, boy.’
The young one smiled happily in the knowledge that his friends had tricked him. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ he piped.
‘The name’s Marrok. Now, why don’t you go and play? Once we are rested we shall visit the overworld.’
Marrok watched as the young boy skipped away happily, probably to get up to mischief. He stood and ventured back towards the palace, declining offer after offer of ale or dance. He had noticed that the others had disappeared inside and he needed to be in attendance.
Permitted access to the palace by the guard, he crossed the threshold and took the grand staircase two steps at a time in pursuit of Captain Dalia, whom he had just spied disappearing into an upper room.
Arriving a little breathless, he slipped inside the room unnoticed as if he hadn’t been gone at all.
The room was familiar and packed with people. Riley’s aides chatted excitedly in one corner, while the other senior order members occupied another. Riley and Jarek were central to the gathered, the latter of which found himself tied to a chair with his back to a roaring fire.
Jarek was bloody and bruised, and perhaps a little terrified of what was about to happen to him.
Riley sat in a chair at his brother’s side and appeared to be whispering to him, calmly and animatedly.
‘...and Mother would never have approved of your actions. You shame her and Papa’s memories. You have brought disrepute to the House of Thymes,’ Riley said.
Jarek stared at the ground. ‘So what is to be done with me?’
‘Do you need to ask such a question?’
‘I have a right to know.’
‘Rights? You speak to me of rights!’ Riley flung his chair across the room with force enough to smash it into several pieces.
The new king launched himself at his younger brother and gripped him around the neck. He brought his face close to Jarek, who grew wide-eyed and fearful. ‘You imprisoned me here, for life. You incarcerated anyone who didn’t agree with you and killed many more. You have turned my beloved City of Rodine into a squalid ghost town, and all for the pursuit of gold. Dare I even mention the rumours that you had Father killed? You sicken me, brother. Be sure of one thing, if I weren’t certain you’d die here, alone, I’d kill you myself. You have no rights, you were never rightfully king, and now you are disgraced.’
Riley let his brother go and faced the room. ‘I apologise for my outburst. It has been a long time coming.’
A murmur rang around the room, and Menin waved a hand. ‘Think nothing of it.’
‘Please, will you all join me in a celebratory drink?’
Riley crossed the moth-eaten rug, picked up a large flagon of ale from atop the room’s dark oak table, and proceeded to pour several glasses.
He offered the most senior people in the room a goblet, including Menin and Coinin. Both thanked him and dutifully waited for him to raise a toast.
‘My friends, as promised you returned a precious item, the Key of Kalor, and also as victors over the tyrant behind me you have proven worthy of both my affection and trust. Let this day serve as a reminder of what one nation can do for another beyond merely invading and stripping of assets. For years I laboured to find someone with the ability to oust Jarek, and because of the actions of The Brotherhood of The Wulf, we are now free.’ Riley raised his goblet and bowed his head in respect. ‘To The Brotherhood of The Wulf.’
The aides fortunate enough to receive a drink raised their glasses in a salute and took a swig. Menin and the others waited until Riley himself had taken a sip before partaking. Coinin shuddered and coughed at the sharp taste, eliciting some laughter and a clap on the back from Marrok.
‘Come, my friend, be seated and tell us all about your victory.’ Riley pulled a high-backed chair away from the table and sat before placing his crossed legs on the table surface itself. He took another drink and waited for what was surely going to be a remarkable tale.
SINS LAID BARE
Aniol and Draken had briefly stopped to speak with Quindil aboard the galleon, anchored not too far from the far shore of the lake. He was overjoyed to see her, not so Draken. They had learned the route taken by the others and set off after them.
Eventually, after following the tracks of the others and camping at night, they passed through Underworld’s iron portal and ventured down the same steps Coinin had braved a few days hence.
Aniol was excited for the opportunity to see everyone again. She did not blame The Brotherhood for leaving her to the flying beast. Quite rightly, anyone would imagine she had been taken far and ended up as food.
It was evident to her that though they thought her perished her sudden appearance was bound to be a shock. But even that was surely nothing compared to Draken turning up, yet again, without warning or invitation.
The surroundings looked considerably different to how she remembered them on her first visit. The streets, if you could call the gaps between makeshift houses and rock columns that, were chock full of people, sleeping, dancing, dozing or drinking the dregs of a few hard days’ partying.
Why haven’t they left Underworld? thought Aniol, carefully stepping over a sleeping body.
The pair made their way slowly towards the underground palace, where the curator and archmage surely were staying.
Outside multiple dwellings, people had stored items and sacks ready for transport, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
Children giggled excitedly, chasing themselves in dizzying circles. Overall, the whole place seemed much happier and brighter.
The palace, guarded as usual by two guards with spears in hand, stood to attention as Aniol and Draken approached.
‘Greetings. I am Aniol, Order of The Wulf. This is Draken Wulf, and we seek an audience with Prince Riley and The Brotherhood.’
The guard turned his head, looked her up and down, and relaxed. ‘We know who you are, miss. Please, enter.’
The great wooden door creaked and the sound echoed around the interior of the makeshift palace. Dust covered everything that was not protected by coverings, and spider webs adorned every nook and cranny.
The familiar stairs ran upwards, and they saw light coming from one of the upper rooms. Aniol and Draken trotted to the top of the stairwell.
Aniol turned to Draken. ‘Perhaps you should wait downstairs, while I speak to Coinin.’
Draken nodded. ‘A sensible precaution.’
‘Wish me luck.’
‘Luck.’
Aniol giggled, took a deep breath and entered the room without knocking.
A meeting appeared to be taking place. The Brotherhood was there, as was Prince Riley and his entourage. Jarek sat quietly in the middle of the room and looked ill and bruised about the face.
Aniol opted to wait and listen since a meeting was in session. They would all see her soon enough.
A tiny woman, advanced in years, with more wrinkles than anyone would care to have, stepped forward. She wore a cloak made of sackcloth, and she thumped a cane upon the wooden floorboards, silencing the hubbub in the room. She squinted up at Jarek, looking at the prisoner closely. ‘This man is a coward and a king killer. I say we hang him. Let others know treachery will not be tolerated.’ She pointed her cane directly at Jarek’s nose. ‘He would do no less to any of you.’
Nods and agreements abound, with a few calls to ‘hang him.’
Prince Riley held up his hand. ‘Silence, please. This is not a matter that can be decided in this manner, and quite how we got to the idea we should hang my brother, I don’t know. The facts of the case must be laid bare, and a vote of his peers will determine his fate. I have already stated that my position is a lifetime in this prison. I am not yet a crowned king, so the rule of king’s law does not apply. So then, we must fall back to peers law. Bring the evidence, and then we shall deliberate.’
A murmur of dissent rolled around the room.
‘I may not be king, but I am your prince, and my rule will be just. Do as I say.’
Each of his aides bowed gracefully and huddled together to discuss the evidence against Jarek, and meanwhile, Riley crossed the room to where Menin stood patiently.
‘Your Highness. I would like to discuss our bargain, if I may.’
‘It has been a few days now, and we are eager to progress with our own matters,’ said Menin.
Prince Riley pursed his lips and breathed in through his nose. ‘The information I hold is valuable, dear lady. As such, I think it only prudent to keep a tight hold of that knowledge until I am seated firmly on the throne that is rightfully mine.’
Menin’s face turned thunderous. ‘You dare to change the terms of our agreement?’ She spoke softly and deliberately. ‘We did all and more that we discussed. We fulfilled our end of the bargain.’
Jericho stepped forward. ‘Good people died to save your skin. The least you can do is furnish us with an answer to our question. Where is Lordich Secracar hiding?’
Riley frowned and shook his head. ‘I need you to understand that I do this for my people, not for myself. They need a leader and hope of returning home. If you leave now, you take the only means of transport across the lake, stranding us here.’
Menin shook her head. ‘Since you have had no dealings with The Brotherhood, I turn to the good relations your father, and we had. We are honourable, trustworthy, and passionate about our cause. When we say we will do something, we will do it. I give you my word as archmage, as we already gave it some days a
go. We will transport you and your people to Rodine and ensure that you are received as king.’
‘You could do well to have The Brotherhood as an ally,’ Coinin added.
Riley closed his eyes and reopened them, and a touch of regret flashed across them. ‘You will forgive my mistrust. Your dealings with my father, of course, were always trustworthy and as you say, honourable. It is only now that we come to the final hour, that I fear for my people’s safety. I offer you a new bargain. Ensure my people are safe aboard the galleon and on route to Rodine and I will divulge every last morsel of information I possess regarding the whereabouts of Lordich Secracar.’
Menin pulled at her lip between finger and thumb and considered the point. She looked between Jericho and Coinin, seeking a hint of what she should do. Of course, they could quickly overwhelm the palace guard and force Riley to speak, and he knew this, but what purpose would that serve other than to undermine The Brotherhood’s reputation and deliver a new enemy to the door? ‘Prince Riley, I have decided in the interest of a future relationship, or any future at all, I think it best if we agree.’
An audible sigh of relief circled the room and Riley offered his hand in bargain. Menin took the appendage and shook it lightly, refusing to kiss it, as was the custom, to show her annoyance. She turned to leave and stopped short. Her mouth gaped and she let out a cry.
All heads turned to where she now pointed.
‘Aniol!’ Coinin cried and raced to her. Forgetting convention, he gripped her in a bear hug, tears of joy welling in his eyes. ‘I thought you dead.’
‘It takes more than that to kill me. Now, will you let me go?’
Coinin released his grip and the others crowded around, patting her and congratulating her on the miracle return.
‘How did you escape?’ Coinin asked.
Menin gasped and shoved Coinin out of the way, not unkindly, and held Aniol in an embrace.
Jericho stepped forward, a look of relief upon his face. He smiled at Aniol and hastily wiped away a tear. His niece was safe and sound.
Aniol put her hands up. ‘There will be plenty of time for celebrations later. I have arrived with someone the curator should see. You both have much to discuss.’
The Aduramis Chronicles: Volumes 1-3: The Definitive Collection Page 99