"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 prese
nce, 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.
"My name is Coryn," the woman began. "I have been asked to escort you to the king's throne room. Follow me." She turned to her left and began walking down the long hallway, her boots resounding on the tile floors. Jason and the assassin had little choice but to follow her. She was tall for a woman, with long strides, causing the two of them to modulate their pace to keep up. Jason, happening to look behind, found two of the black cloaked guards from the bedroom following behind the assassin a little ways back. They had hidden their miniature crossbows and walked with an easy gait, but he had no doubt they could draw their swords in an instant. After perhaps thirty paces, the small party came to a corridor. Across the corridor, the hall continued into darkness, presumably on to other bedrooms. Their path lay to the right, where they found a grand staircase leading down toward the next level. Coryn began to descend the staircase, and after passing three floors, they arrived at the ground floor.
The halls were devoid of nobles or other visitors. Only servants populated the halls, dropping curtsies or bows as they passed the small party and then hurrying silently on to continue their business. Jason noticed the servants wore a sort of uniform. The men wore black breeches with a black tunic that featured a white eagle embroidered on the breast over the heart. The women wore black dresses with matching embroidery.
Despite the late hour, Jason felt wide awake. I suppose that nearly having my throat cut will serve to wash away my fatigue of the day, he thought.
Daydreaming and distracted as he was, Jason nearly ran into the back of Coryn and had to quick-step aside to avoid a collision. They had arrived at a set of large double doors which towered above their heads. Jason, at first, had no idea why the doors to the throne room should be so high, but then he remembered the tales of giants and other creatures that towered above the average man and supposed that the king would want to be courteous to such creatures. The guards flanking the door were near replicas of the guards outside of the king's antechamber. All except one that is, one who was slightly shorter, a woman Jason thought, pulled open the doors. Coryn glanced back and gave him a look, as if he had embarrassed her, before striding into the throne room.
Jason's breath was taken away as he stepped into a room of immense splendor. Tiles covered the floor, a gray swirled with light pinks that was polished until it shone, reflecting the light from the dozens of candles in sconces around the room, as well the five magnificent golden candelabras hanging, a few paces above their heads, by thick cables from the high vaulted ceiling. A thick blood-red colored carpet ran from the doorway to the steps leading up to the four thrones, and Coryn continued to walk down the carpet, her pace slowing. The thrones were of various sizes. The contrast reminded Jason of the story of the Three Bears, with how there had been the big chair, medium-sized chair and baby chair. While there was no baby throne, the king's throne dominated the scene, with the queen's throne diminished only slightly, and the two flanking the center pair looking diminished as much again as the queen's had to the king's. Around the room were various smaller, single pane doors, used by the king's staff and guards, Jason assumed, with the door directly behind the throne being the private entrance and escape route of the king and royal family. In each corner of the massive chamber, heat rolled from fireplaces, lending a pleasant warmth to the place.
The king's staff had been alerted to the fact that the king would be entertaining despite the late hour, for already half a dozen servants moved through the doors and filed along the wall, waiting to do the bidding of the king and queen, whatever that should be. Guards also ringed the room, with two flanking the door the party had just entered through and two flanking each of the smaller doors.
The small procession came to a halt near the end of the red carpet, a short way from the lowest step. There, Coryn turned and looked at the assassin and said, "Lower your hood and remove your mask, assassin, so the king may look upon your face."
The assassin stared back for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to obey the command. At last, she made a decision and lowered her eyes in acquiescence, pulling back her cloak with one gloved hand and with the other lowering the cloth that had been concealing the lower part of her face. Her eyes rose and darted to Jason's, as if daring him to make a comment.
But Jason was speechless, unable to utter a word had his life depended on it. For, to his eyes, her face was magnificent. She was young, at least as young as he was, Jason thought. Her raven black hair was tied back in a short pony tail, for her hair was not long to begin with. Her blue eyes were complemented by a cute face which, surprisingly, lacked scars.
Any response by Jason to her revelation was cut off by the sound of a door opening ahead of them. Turning, Jason witnessed the king and queen entering the throne room hand in hand. Out of the corner of his eye Jason saw the guards around the room dropping to a knee and placing their right hand over their heart in a fist as they bowed their heads in respect. Coryn had done the same, though she had not gone to her knees, only bowing to chest height and resuming her position. Jason repeated the bow he had done in the king's antechamber and saw the assassin do the same. The king and queen separated their hands and split, moving right and left respectively, to take their seats. Jason noted the king had a narrow box perhaps a pace and a half in length in the crook of his right arm. Once they were seated, Coryn surprised Jason by ascending the steps and taking the seat to the left of the queen. Of course! She must have been a princess, which explained the lesser courtesy shown by her and the greater courtesy shown by the servants toward their party as they had passed through the palace halls. Her mother patted her hand and Coryn kissed her on the cheek in return.
The king studied the two before him silently, his eyes lingering on the assassin's face the longest for this was the first glimpse of it he'd been allowed. At last he spoke a question. "What are your names, children?" His eyes turned first to the assassin.
Jason felt the assassin bristle at being called a child, but she answered curtly, "Bridgette Johnson."
The king's eyes turned to Jason and he answered, "Jason Thorpe, my king."
The king seemed to absorb the names, trying them out in his mind. "Assassin Bridgette, you are here before me for the attempted assassination of my personage. Do you deny that assassination was your intent?"
"I do not deny it," Bridgette answered. Her gaze did not deviate from the king's and she seemed to have stood up straighter, if that were possible.
The king nodded as if seeing something he approved of and said, "Then you have left me with few options, young Bridgette. You can face the headsman's axe, life imprisonment below the palace, or…" The king's gaze returned to Jason. "There is a third option. But it requires the cooperation of you, young master Thorpe."
Jason gulped, but answered, "If what you ask of me is something that will grant Bridgette her freedom and her life, I will do it without hesitation, my king." At that moment, he knew he would do anything to save this woman, to let her see her brother again.
"The action you undertake will preserve both Bridgette’s life and her freedom. Do you not wish to know what the action is before undertaking it?"
"My king, the answer would make little difference, for nothing could stop me from going through with it," Jason answered. The words surprised him, for he barely knew this woman. He had only just learned her name, in fact. Would he really do anything just so she could see Dawyn again?
"Even if that action were to take your life in place of hers?"
At that Jason stumbled, but only for a moment. He had already committed himself and could
not turn back. So, squaring his shoulders he stated, "Yes, I would willingly surrender my life if it meant Bridgette would live." At those words, Jason heard a gasp beside him and found Bridgette staring at him, her mouth wide. Seeing him staring at her, she snapped her mouth closed and masked her features, her eyes turning to ice and her head returning to face forward, but for a moment Jason would have sworn he had seen something else flash in her eyes; something soft, like the meat within the shell of a clam.
A quick smile crossed the king's mouth before he spoke, "Then step forward, both of you, and face each other at the base of the steps." He rose from his throne and descended the steps.
Jason took a deep breath and walked forward. He saw that Bridgette was walking in time with him. When they reached the base of the stairs and faced each other, the king, who was standing on the bottom step, told Bridgette to remove her gloves and for Jason to take her hands in his. Bridgette removed the gloves and hid them on her person and then proffered her naked hands to Jason who took them in his own. Her hands were warm and dry with a hard feel from calluses caused, presumably, by the prolonged use of her deadly knives and other weapons of her profession. His, by comparison, were becoming sweaty as he contemplated their fates.
The king removed a thin black rod roughly a pace in length with an orb the size of a large male fist topping it from the box he had carried in. The orb, like the rod, was black, though the darkness within the orb seemed to be swirling, alive with purpose. The king held the rod before him with the orb of a height with his eyes. He began chanting in an unknown language that at once sounded strange and familiar, like those who spoke Spanish or French or other romance languages might have felt hearing Latin spoken. The incantation was short, but it had the desired effect on the orb. The previous darkness had been banished, replaced by pure white light emanating from the orb, pulsing outward as the king held it between them.
Time of Shadows (The Saga of the Seven Stars Book 2) Page 11