by Joseph Lallo
“What are you doing? Blast it, Tristofer, I don’t have time for this! We must – what is all of this?”
Breslin had finally noticed several rows of mathematical calculations scrawled out on the stone floor. Also visible was a big black X that had been marked on the wall. Curiosity getting the better of him, Breslin turned back to the scholar and noticed that Tristofer’s hands were black. In fact, his right hand still clutched a lump of charcoal he must have fished out of one of his pockets. Tristofer pointed at the X.
“Here! Quickly! Hit this spot with your hammer!”
“What? Tristofer, we don’t –”
“Stop arguing with me and for once, do as I say! Hit it! Now!!”
Gritting his teeth, Breslin cocked his arm and swung a good, solid blow at the wall, directly on the X. Such was the force of the blow that the surface of the wall with the X on it completely broke apart and tumbled to the ground, followed closely by a larger chunk of the wall. Then they heard snapping and cracking as a set of cracks snaked up the wall towards the cavern’s ceiling. Not stopping there, the cracks continued across, knocking loose several large stalactites unlucky enough to be in the way. One particularly large stalactite also lay in the approaching crack’s path. After appearing as though the enormous stalactite had successfully stopped the cracking rock’s noisy progress across the ceiling, the jagged line reappeared on the other side of the rock formation and continued towards the far side of the cavern.
The stalactite suddenly tipped to the left and dropped down a foot or so. The rock anchoring the stalactite to the ceiling continued to break until it finally surrendered the battle and relinquished its grip on the stony icicle. With a loud crack, it fell from the ceiling and plummeted straight down, destroying everything in its path. Fortunately for Breslin and his companions, the arrow shooter was sitting directly below it.
Rahygren’s henchman dove out of the way just as several tons of calcium carbonate crushed the Narian apparatus flat.
While Rahygren cursed and swore at his bad luck, Breslin shooed everyone through an open door leading to a small courtyard. Silently they ran, retracing their steps back to the imperial palace.
“We only have a few minutes while Rahygren regroups,” Breslin warned, easily matching the sprint that Venk and Athos had set.
With Kasnar still strapped securely to his back, Athos snatched up his nephew and tossed him to his brother. Venk slung Lukas over his shoulder and ran. Not even Kasnar’s extra weight, or Lukas’, could have slowed the two brothers down as they sprinted through the deserted streets. On and on they ran, stopping only long enough for Breslin to unlock a sealed door they had come across. Once they were all through, Tristofer called out to his companions.
“Wait a moment.” He was clutching at a painful stitch in his side and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “There weren’t any sealed doors on the way to the palace last time. We must have made a wrong turn somewhere.”
“Would you like to go back and see whereabouts we went wrong?” Breslin sarcastically asked. He, too, was panting heavily. Dwarves, with their short legs, just weren’t meant for running.
“I’m closing this door,” Athos declared. He pushed the circular door closed and once he verified it wouldn’t open unless one had a ruby helix, like the one on Breslin’s hammer, he turned to his companions. “So if we’re lost, how do we find the palace?”
“If you would have listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Athos twisted his head to look over his right shoulder.
“What did you say, old man?”
Kasnar cuffed Athos on the back of his head, knocking his helmet down over his eyes.
“I tried to tell you before we were headed the wrong way but you didn’t pay attention.”
Athos growled as he tipped his helmet back into place.
“Then speak up. Everyone’s running. I’m running. Unless you shout it out, I won’t be able to hear you. Do you know which way to the palace or not?”
Kasnar smacked Athos’ helmet again, once more causing his vision to be blocked.
“There’s no need to be rude, Master Athos. Turn left here, then follow the street east. It’ll lead straight to the palace.”
“How do you know?” Venk asked, careful to stand far enough away from his brother so that he was out of Kasnar’s reach.
The frail dwarf pointed at a nearby sign, covered with unfamiliar symbols.
“Because the sign says so.”
“It could say anything,” Tristofer protested, unhappy he wasn’t able to read the Narian script. “You could just be making this up.”
Kasnar leaned forward and peered at Tristofer closely.
“Aren’t you a scholar? How can you be a professed expert on Narian culture and not be able to read a simple sign that says, ‘This way to the palace’? It’s the first thing I learned how to do. If you can understand archaic dwarfish, then Narian script should not be that far off.”
“Archaic dwarfish? Is that why the script looks familiar?”
Kasnar looked down at Athos and leaned over to whisper in his ear.
“How long have you had to travel with him?”
Athos snorted so loudly that his own exhaled breath shook his mustache, which promptly tickled his nose.
“Gah! Stop that!”
While Athos rubbed his nose to get the prickly sensations to pass, Breslin turned to look back the way they had come. Thankfully no one could hear any indications they were being pursued. However, chances were that Rahygren and his men had probably guessed that they intended to hole up in the palace and more than likely knew the direct route there. Breslin and his companions had unwisely chosen the scenic route.
“Stop dawdling and get moving!” Kasnar scolded him, snapping him out of his reverie. “We’d better get to the palace before they do. Hurry!”
Once more they were running like mad, only this time no one spoke so they could all hear Kasnar’s directions.
“Up this street. Turn right once you clear that large pile of rubble.”
The group turned right and ran past quiet storefronts.
“Now left here, and then an immediate right.”
On and on they ran. Venk thought his lungs were going to burst. Finally, after what felt like hours of running, when in actuality it had only been about ten minutes, they were once more standing in the large courtyard against the eastern wall of the great cavern. There, as before, was the large arched doorway leading into the imperial palace. However, now it was guarded by a lone henchman, who was standing alertly in front of the slightly ajar palace doors.
“Wizards be damned,” Breslin swore. Had Rahygren managed to get here first? If so, where was he?
“I think there’s only one,” Athos reported as he skimmed the area from the safety of the distant street corner.
“What do we do now?” Tristofer asked. “The longer we wait the more likely it is that our adversaries catch up!”
Venk felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Athos was gently lowering his passenger to the ground.
“Take Kasnar. I’ll deal with this.”
“What do you think you’ll be able to do?” Venk asked. He pushed his way over until he was standing directly in his brother’s path. “You have no idea what weapons they have, or what they can do. Don’t even think about doing something as crazy as this.”
Ignoring his brother, Athos looked over at Breslin. “Be ready to run. Venk, damn it, put on the harness and let Kasnar back in.”
For once, Venk did as he was told. Once the old man was sitting comfortably on his back, Venk turned to Athos.
“What’s your plan?”
Athos pulled out both of his orixes and flicked his wrists, snapping both of them open.
“I’m going to create a distraction.”
Giving Lukas a fond pat on his head, Athos quietly snuck off towards the castle, keeping in the darkened shadows of nearby b
uildings where the illuminated gold chain didn’t venture. Getting as close as he dared, Athos lined up the mercenary in his sights and cocked an arm. He’d made more difficult shots than this back home, so getting an orix to buzz directly in front of the unsuspecting guard should be a piece of cake.
Crossing his fingers and hoping for the best, Athos hurled his green orix. He watched it spin majestically through the air as it continued its elliptical orbit around the courtyard. Hoping he’d put enough of a spin on the weapon to keep the flight path tight, he watched as it whistled by the guard, coming within two feet of the guard’s head.
Athos watched as the guard snapped to attention. The guard slowly swung his gaze around the courtyard, looking for whatever it was that had caught his attention. The problem was, Athos noted with disgust, he hadn’t abandoned his post. Yet.
Time for another try.
Having already caught the orix as it returned to its thrower, Athos threw the weapon again, this time increasing the spin and changing the angle at which it was thrown. This caused the orix to spin faster and widen its orbit. Once more the emerald green orix buzzed by the guard, but this time it was several feet away. Confused, the guard stared at the rapidly moving object. He cocked his head this way and that as he tried to determine what it was he was looking at.
Athos caught the spinning weapon before the guard looked his way and this time fired off his gold orix. Not giving much thought to where he was aiming, as he had thrown it on the spur of the moment, Athos watched, horrified, as the orix spiraled closer to its target.
“Tell me I didn’t, tell me I didn’t,” Athos repeated to himself, hoping he hadn’t blown his cover by throwing the orix too close to the target.
It was close, very close, but at least it didn’t strike the guard. But, it did whiz by close enough where the guard could feel the wind from its passing. Athos smiled. The guard was now frowning. He had to be thinking some that type of animal was trying to lure him away, presumably from a nest. The guard pulled out an axe and waited for the creature to return.
Athos threw the green orix again, this time so that it would circle a little farther away. The guard followed a few steps. Next, the gold orix circled by, and the guard moved another few paces away. In this manner Athos led the guard directly towards a darkened alley while watching his companions inch ever closer to the palace.
“He’s doing it!” Tristofer whispered excitedly. “The guard is moving off! We’ll be able to sneak back inside the palace in just a few moments!”
Breslin and Venk watched as the unsuspecting guard moved further and further away from his position at the palace entrance. Breslin was impressed. Athos was a master with his two orixes. He had the weapons skirting around buildings, darting through open windows, and even brushing by the guard with only inches to spare. They all watched as the guard, wearing a determined expression on his face, ducked into the darkened alley to investigate.
Everyone heard it: the type of sharp metallic clang which signified someone had just taken a blow to the head. Had it been Athos? Should one of them go check to make sure he was alright?
Venk squared his shoulders and was about to run across the open courtyard to see whether or not his brother needed help when Breslin grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.
“Our time just ran out. Listen! They approach from the north!”
Everyone listened quietly. Venk cursed to himself. Breslin was right. They were coming, and from the sounds of it, they were approaching fast. Without checking to see what the others were going to do, Venk taxed his tiring lungs to the breaking point by sprinting across the street to the palace door. A quick backwards check verified that everyone was not only behind him but were easily keeping up. He must be tiring.
Breslin reached the palace door first and grabbed Lukas. He tossed him, single-handedly, up and over the crunched chair and through the open door. He looked up in time to see the scholar stare at him in shock.
“Tristofer, get inside! Hurry!”
Venk hurdled the crumpled chair propping the door open and turned around in time to see someone dressed in a full suit of golden armor, just like the one Rahygren’s man had been wearing, run from one darkened street to another. Was that Athos? It had to be. If it had been one of their adversaries then he would have come straight at them.
Breslin swung the power hammer at the chair in a desperate bid to dislodge the bent metal seat that had been keeping the huge palace door open. However, Kasnar’s captor had just appeared from the shadows and was now running all out to get to the door first.
The first blow echoed noisily all throughout the street. The crumpled chair bent inwards even further, but since the chair had been made of the same metal that the famous armor had been made of, it refused to break.
Shocked that the chair hadn’t been knocked loose by the ferocity of the blow, Breslin hit it again. And again. The only thing he accomplished was to wedge the damaged remains of the chair further into the wall and the door. There’d be no dislodging that chair now.
Cursing, Breslin gathered up Lukas and ran after Venk and Kasnar. Tristofer barely kept up.
“Through there,” Kasnar instructed, pointing to an open doorway on the left. “You’ll find a long hallway. Take the second door on your left. Hurry!”
Trusting Kasnar to know what we was doing, Breslin followed the two of them deep into the heart of the palace, ducking through unremarkable doorways and sprinting down endless hallways.
Kasnar suddenly pointed to another arched door, one that had been damaged and was incapable of closing.
“In there. Go!”
“But the door won’t close!” Breslin protested, giving the broken door an angry glance.
“Irrelevant. Trust me!”
Once they were inside the room, Tristofer gasped with surprise. The room was almost the size of the entry courtyard. The floors were completely covered with a type of marble that had tiny gold flakes all throughout, causing the entire ground to give off an eerie glow. Hallways and doors were everywhere.
“This is the king and queen’s private chambers,” Kasnar told them. He pointed at a statue of a stoic dwarf sitting resolutely on a gilded throne. “Just behind the statue is a hidden door. Find it. Open it. Hurry!”
Venk set Kasnar down and joined Breslin in inspecting the walls. Smoky gray quartz lined every bit of the walls in the royal chambers, and it appeared for all intents and purposes to be a single unbroken surface. There was no way a door could be hidden there. Kasnar had to have been mistaken.
Breslin gave an exasperated sigh. “There’s nothing here, grandfather. No door.” He pulled the hammer from his belt. “I can make one, though.”
Kasnar irritably pushed by his grandson and ran a withered hand across the smooth quartz. His hand stopped about eye level. A tiny indentation was revealed. Had that always been there? Kasnar pushed. With a loud click, a doorway formed and swung inward.
“Get inside! All of you!”
“But it’s dark in there!” Tristofer whined, leaning around their frail guide to peer inside the dark opening.
Venk shoved Lukas through the dark doorway while simultaneously grabbing Tristofer’s beard and pulling him forward.
“Ow! How rude! You don’t have to –”
Breslin elbowed him in the stomach as he pushed the door closed. A few moments later a three foot section of golden chain, embedded in the ceiling overhead, began to glow, giving off a welcome, albeit cold light.
Breslin placed his ear to the door. Venk did the same. He looked at his son and held a finger to his lips.
Rahygren had arrived in the room.
Tristofer tapped Venk on the shoulder. Venk promptly brushed it aside, much like he’d do with an annoying insect. Tristofer tapped again. Annoyed, Venk turned around. Then his mouth fell open. Without turning back around, Venk nudged Breslin, whose own reaction mirrored his.
They were in an armory. Not a large armory d
esigned to equip a battalion of men, but enough to arm several people should the need arise. This was one of the Narian king’s four private armories, Kasnar explained. This one had been designed to be used for emergency purposes only.
“How did you know this was here?” Tristofer wanted to know.
“I saw the door here a number of years ago,” Kasnar explained, correctly guessing what his companions were thinking. “As you can imagine, I decided to keep the information to myself.”
“You clearly had access to the city,” Tristofer argued. “Why didn’t you just escape?”
“Look at me. Do I look like I could overpower my captor? I had an escort everywhere I went. I think once Rahygren knew I was incapable of escaping he deliberately allowed me out of my room. However, only with an escort.”
“That’s mean,” Lukas softly exclaimed.
“Tell me about it,” Kasnar agreed.
Three suits of armor, including one that was practically oozing with jewels, sat somberly on their display stands. Three shields, adorned with the Narian crest, an upside-down hammer amidst a purple backdrop of elegant scrollwork, was visible on each. Half a dozen swords, short swords, axes, and daggers were also sitting neatly on their shelves. All sported a layer of dust several inches thick.
Breslin, Venk, and Tristofer each moved to the suits of armor and began dusting them off, as though seeing the wondrous suits looking anything less than pristine was offensive.
“You already have a set,” Venk told Breslin. He reverently picked up a helmet, dusted it off on his trousers, and started to replace his own.
“Leave it,” Kasnar whispered. “There are more important things in here to worry about than that infernal armor.”
Venk looked longingly back at the glittering pieces of silver and gold. It was genuine Narian armor! It was easily worth a king’s fortune!
“I said to let it go, lad,” Kasnar softly told him. “It’s only a matter of time before we’re discovered. Here, take this instead.”