I saw them standing behind the dais in the back of the throne room. Although all of my senses remained singularly fixed upon my mark, the residual effect of my enhanced awareness allowed me to see the three hooded figures as they waited in the shadows for something. When the cloaked figure completed his progression to the throne, I saw the three hooded figures move. In response, I fully drew my bowstring, again setting my muscles, now fixed and locked. I felt the strain upon my fingers, arms and back from holding the tension in the wood. But it was a tension I was able to endure. As the hooded figures climbed the dais to take their place next to Lord Myosk, it was almost time. Words were exchanged, all without their understanding that they were about to be rendered moot at the hands of a farm boy. No, not a farm boy, an assassin. Breath, pause, and breath again. It was almost time.
After sitting on the side of the building for a while longer, Vennesulte saw two smaller boys pushing a rather large cart filled with untied bales of hay. He had thought it odd that his attention was drawn to them instead of remaining on the keep and the possible actions occurring within, but he had long since stopped questioning the emergence of new connections, if he ever questioned them at all. As they rounded the corner, he saw the front wheel of the cart approach a rather large stone. However, the stone was unnoticed by the boys who continued to push the oversized load. He also noticed there was a slight decline in the slope of the road, just enough to make it difficult for the boys to control the heavy cart.
When they hit the stone, the subsequent jostling of the cart dislodged the grip of one of the boys which was enough to wiggle the other handle out from the other boy's grasp as well. Slowly at first, the cart continued its slide down the hill, but in no time at all, it had gathered speed and momentum. The boys, now wildly yelling and running after the cart, were helpless to prevent it from crashing against the wall of the keep in a grand explosion of wood and hay. As he looked up to the window again, he noticed that the hay was directly underneath it. Connection. A moment later, he heard two sets of distinctly sharp chimes of the bells located atop the stone keep. And yet, while guards had begun to flood the interior of the keep, and the city people attending the market inside the exterior walls of the keep all rushed to go home, he still felt it right to wait.
Movements of small expression can sometimes have an effect like the wings of a butterfly that cause the very beginnings of a chain of events. Though impossibly small, the tiny muscles of the butterfly, if set into motion at just the right moment, when conditions are just right, can end in a great typhoon. Such were the conditions as the tiny muscles of my fingers betrayed the only motion of my body against the stillness of my focus. Slowly and intently I released their tension, making sure it did not affect the aim of my arrow. Right before I loosed the feather laced death, but past the point of being able to hold my shot, I felt a shutter in the walls and ledge. As I let the arrow fly, its course was altered just enough by the jostling of my perch that I saw it strike the unhooded figure standing next to the throne. I had missed.
The center of the three figures that had emerged from the shadows went down and died before his head hit the ground. Instantly after, a grand commotion erupted in the room and all eyes were focused on myself and my mentor. "Move. Now!" was all I needed to hear. Kinarin's voice pierced my unbelief, shattering it into action. In rapid succession, three or four arrows, I could not be sure, thudded against the underside of the ledge. Because of his position, Kinarin was the first to reach the window. Luckily, the cover of the ledge provided enough shielding against return arrow fire, but our time was growing short. I heard two sets of short chimes coming from the bells atop the tower. The alarm had been raised. And the hunt for us would soon begin.
Kinarin paused only briefly when he heard the twin chimes. Instead of climbing down the way we had come, I saw him launch himself like a bold and confident eagle through the window. But right as his trailing foot was vacating my visual field, I saw a red explosion of liquid. He had been hit. Fearing he had thrown himself to his death in response to our hopeless situation, I rushed to the opening only to see him land harmlessly on a large pile of hay. Not pausing to consider where it had come from, I followed him in his leap of faith. My landing was rough, but not intolerable. He was there, waiting and pulled me from the hay and onto my feet. He took a moment to snap the protruding portion of the arrow from his wounded heal, grunting as he did so. We both exchanged a glance seated in the knowledge that we would need to talk later. But our attentions would have to be otherwise engaged for a large contingency of guards had just rounded the corner, hell bent on our capture.
From where Kinarin drew his strength to run, I did not know; but nevertheless, he broke into a full sprint away from the guards. Instantly I followed. We were rushing past the harried citizens of the Stone Keep, sometimes knocking directly into them and sending them sprawling to the ground. Other times we lept or dove over the obstacles in our way. We did not slow ourselves by looking behind because we knew that would mean our capture. So we ran and ran, jumping through windows, vaulting over fences, and sometimes even swinging from various building structures. We managed to lose the greater portion of the guards; however, as we rounded a random corner, we came to a dead end. The alley, not more than thirty feet long ended at the side of moderately tall building. Fearing if we doubled back we would be caught, we had no choice but to climb.
For a brief moment, I saw discomfort cross Kinarin's brow. I looked down to his foot and saw that it left a trail of blood, a trail that the guard's blood hounds would certainly be able to follow. "Are you alright?" I asked.
"Climb," was the only response I received.
The first hand hold was more than twelve feet up the wall. Knowing we could not reach it by jumping alone, Kinarin stepped back about ten feet and dashed to the corner. With a right foot, left foot, right foot sequence, he propelled himself up the side of the building at the corner where two of the walls met. With his last foot, he vaulted more sideways and grasped the hand hold. In moments, he pulled himself high enough to where he grabbed the window sill above him to continue his climb. Half way up, he moved sideways by "leaping" to the next higher window. Not ten seconds had passed and he had reached the top of the building. I did not waste any more time. I took a quick ten paces back, and sprinted toward the corner. To my surprise, my body responded exactly as I needed. I found myself hanging from the same window Kinarin had only moments ago. I followed the same path as he, but my climb was now being harried by arrows striking against the side of the wall. A few short moments and I finished my ascent and saw him waiting for me. "It is about time," he taunted and darted away, jumping to the rooftop next to ours.
We continued our rooftop journey through the city for several minutes, and when we were confident we had avoided the guards for the moment, Kinarin stopped and knelt down, relieving the pressure on his wounded and bleeding heel. "We will need to find a more permanent hiding place. While rooftops are great for escape, they are poor places to hide. They are very exposed."
Looking around, I saw a building about three rooftops away that appeared to have a trap door. "How about we hide there?"
"It is as good a place as any. Let us hope it lies vacant. We cannot afford any more complications," he said as he tore part of his shirt off and tied it around his injured heel.
"Will you be ok?" I asked.
"Drin, I was struck by an arrow in my foot. I did not take an arrow to my knee. I will be fine." It was good to see his rare humor emerge. Whether it was caused by our desperate position or his unlikely injury, I did not know. But I was glad for its presence nonetheless. "Now, let us see about that trap door you spotted."
We jogged and jumped the rooftops and were shortly kneeling beside the trap door on the roof. It was locked, but Kinarin was able to open it quickly with a set of lock picks. It squeaked open, obviously rusty from a combination of disuse and weather. We paused to listen for any indication of movement from inside. Hearing non
e, we both dropped through it and silently landed on the floor of a bedroom. We went from room to room on the top floor making sure there were no residents. The top floor was empty and hearing nothing from below, we descended the stairs to the ground level. It was apparent this was a wine merchant's store as we saw rack after rack filled with expensive and rare wines.
"Drin, a wine merchant must have a cellar," said Kinarin.
We began our search without delay, and found a hidden trap door behind the counter. It was odd that a merchant's shop would be empty this early in the evening, but because of the alarm we had raised, everyone had probably closed for the day and headed home. Finally, a bit of good fortune. We lowered the retractable ladder and climbed down, careful to remove all traces of our entry. As we settled into our current hiding spot, we each took a single deep breath and released it slowly. We knew the guards would be searching each building systematically, but we also knew we had a least some time to rest and plan our next actions.
As she watched her brother, fellow companions, and herself be surrounded by the guards at the demand of Lord Myosk, she could not help but feel the similarity between her condition now, and when she had been held captive by the goblins. But this time, there would be no intervention rescuing them. She saw Dianali instinctively reach for her blades, but a quick glance from Borinth stilled her hand before she was able to draw them. The guards, each with their own blades drawn, slowly walked toward them, some bearing shackles. And then, all motion stopped and the air in the room seemed to prevent all continued breathing. One of the Wizards standing on the throne’s dais, the one who verbally confronted the lone wizard, fell backward to the ground, an arrow protruding from his chest.
As with any unexpected intrusion to the normal flow of events, there was a short moment of confusion resulting in a brief suspension of actions. Such was the case now as Zyndalia, along with all others in the large room paused to look around and survey what had just happened. Less than a second later, one of the other hooded figures on the dais shouted and pointed up to a window. As the guards began shooting their arrows, Zyndalia saw two figures leap out of the window, but not before Lord Myosk was able to shout, "Ring the Bells! We have traitors in the Keep!" The attention and apprehension of her and her companions was instantly stopped as all but a few of the garrison thundered out of the doorway and into the streets. What stuck Zyndalia most in this moment was not the anger, fear, confusion, or urgency currently shown on everyone's faces, but the faint grin on the face of the hooded figure who pointed out the assassins. She was certain she had seen him smile.
However much commotion the assassination had created, her situation, and that of her brother's had not changed. They were still being arrested by the remaining guards of The Stone Keep. Even though their capture's numbers had been reduced considerably in the effort to apprehend the assassins, there was still a substantial amount remaining causing Borinth to insist they be taken into custody quietly. When they were all shackled, along with the Wizard who came to their defense, Lord Myosk gave the order to have them lead away to be incarcerated in the dungeons.
"My Lord Myosk," spoke one of the remaining Wizards, "What is your intention with Intellos?"
"My intention is to charge him as a companion to the mercenaries who sought to deceive us," he answered as he watched their progression to exit the throne room.
"Yes, but are you sure your dungeons are adequate to hold him? He was, after all, former Grand Wizard of the High Council?" he asked lightly.
"Yes, I can see your point. It may be best to have the University take him. Is this something you are willing to undertake on behalf of the Stone Keep?" asked Lord Myosk.
"We expected as much. And we would very much like to ask him several questions. Questions aimed at revealing just how deep his madness runs," said the Wizard as he looked to Intellos, now bound in shackles. "But may I ask another favor of you, My Lord?"
"Certainly,"
"I know your search for answers from the mercenaries is as formidable as ours is from the Wizard, but there are three amongst them I would much like to question. There is something about them I do not trust. And I feel they may provide you with difficulty should you hold them here, as formidable as your dungeon is," the wizard spoke.
"Are you sure about them? They appear to be just normal mercenary rabble," said Lord Myosk dismissively.
"Quite so. And it appears you will have your hands full in the search for those assassins. I am quite sure they were sent by The Guild. You cannot afford to divert any of your guards to help fortify your dungeon garrison," replied the wizard.
After a moment of consideration, Lord Myosk ordered the parade of the mercenaries halted. He turned to the wizard, "Very well. Which three will you have?"
The hooded figure pointed to Rony, Zyndalia, and Liani, "Those three. Have them bound with an extra set of shackles and lead them to our quarters. We will be there momentarily. And put this on the Wizard’s hands," he said as he produced a rather mundane looking set of shackles from his robes. “They will make sure he offers no magical resistance.”
Because of the geographical location of the stone keep, it sat at the tactical boarder of the Silver Empire. While its theoretical boarder extended passed this by miles, those lands were open to attack and were often times unaccounted for even on maps. Held within, however, was the whole of the Silver Empire with its famed port cities and fertile lands. However, the lands falling under the rule of Lord Myosk were segmentally separated by a vast mountain range making military assistance from other the other holds of the Empire, unless given an excess amount of time, difficult at best. Because of this, there had been a very intricate system of beacons constructed at the outskirts of its borders. These beacons were meant to act as an early warning system for the Stone Keep. Once an invading army was spotted, the beacons would be set to blaze in a quick succession. The idea was to give enough warning to the keep and lands beyond to facilitate a quicker military response for aide. And although his position held great significance, it was vacant of any and all glamour normally associated with great battles and great heroes. After all, the bards only sang songs about those warriors who carried swords, and not those who wielded a torch, however important his torch may be.
At first, he believed his eyes to be deceiving him as a result of the rising heat from the ground. It was not uncommon for it to create a shimmering effect, and when combined with his fatigue, would present as a diffuse mirage of water or mist. But when the mist failed to fade, as it always did when the minutes passed and the angle of the sun changed, he began to worry. Holding his looking glass, a rudimentary version of a pirate's spying glass, he focused on the mirage. At first, all he saw was a rather dark mist, similar to the one he had seen for the majority of his time as a Watchmen, but when the mist shown bright flashes of what appeared to be reflected metal, he took a closer look. And horror struck him. This was indeed no mirage. The Rumors were true. The Dark Army had come.
He dropped the looking glass and fumbled for the matches to light his torch. He dropped one, clumsy from the fear, and failed to strike the next two, dropping them as well. When he did finally light one, he held it and reached for the torch hanging on his belt. His heart sank as he gripped air. Where had he set it down? He looked again toward the Dark Mist of the Dark Army and it was growing in size. He looked again toward his left and saw the torch resting against a large bolder.
Wisp and thud. He felt a strong pinch in his right arm followed by a trail of warmth progressing toward his hand. He looked to it and saw a trail of blood beginning at the point of a small arrow now buried in his shoulder. He looked again to the torch and began to run toward it. It was not far away, perhaps twenty feet, but the distance seemed greater than any he had run before.
Wisp and thud again, but this time he felt the sting and warmth down his leg. He stumbled to the ground and instinctively reached to his thigh. He felt another small arrow sticking out from the center of his l
eg. Again he looked to the torch, now almost within his grasp. Fearing more arrow fire, he stayed low and half crawled the rest of the short distance to the torch. When he reached it, he grabbed another match and struck it. It was imperative he reach the beacon to light it. The defense of the Stone Keep depended on it. They had only a short time to prepare, and it would be less so if he did not reach the beacon with the torch lit.
He looked to the oiled pile of wood; it was farther away than the torch, perhaps fifty feet. His shoulder throbbed as did his thigh, and his foot was beginning to go numb with tingling. He could not hold the torch in the grasp of his wounded arm which meant he would be forced to relinquish his shield if he was to continue to carry it. But in spite of his injuries and loss of blood, he continued.
Wisp and thud. Another arrow had struck true enough to impede his mobility completely. This one had buried itself deep in his stomach. It was then he knew he would die. He fell to his knees, only a short ten feet away from the beacon, dropping the torch to the ground. He sank back on his ankles and looked to the sky. There were many oddly shaped clouds, some even resembling animals, but one in particular drew his attention. As he focused on it, its shape seemed to coalesce and form a cross. It was so angled that it stood directly in the way of the sun giving it a divine glow from behind. He did not know from where, but he assembled the last of his strength, leaned forward to pick up his still burning torch, and found his foot planted solidly on the ground. As he boosted himself up by his wounded leg, his other foot responded and took a supporting position under him. He breathed deeply. Half running, half stumbling he traveled the last ten feet to the beacon and fell against its oiled wood.
Convergence (The Dragon Within Saga Book 1) Page 79