During the entire time Parsifal was speaking, the people of Talamar began to amass upon the walls. The crowd grew steadily, and by this time, there was barely an inch of space inside of which another body could squeeze. They poked their heads through the gaps in the wall, pushed their way to the edges of the balustrade and climbed atop the thick stone in order to be able to see and hear more clearly. In a steadily growing frenzy, the formerly cowed and frightened subjects jockeyed and squirmed, and jockeyed their way to the front of the lines as if their salvation awaited them below. Every now and then, in their ardor to be able to see the famed and illustrious Knights and amidst all the pushing and shoving, someone would fall headlong from the wall to the soft grass below and find themselves unable to re-enter the city. Yet, they righted themselves and remained attentive nonetheless.
The city guards tried hopelessly to keep the people back, but the flood of citizenry was too overwhelming for them to stop unless they wished to resort to physical restraint. In the absence of Lady Margot, and with the Duke ostensibly bedridden and unable or unwilling to provide leadership, the army gave way to the thrashing and pummeling of the crowd. They retreated to the background and let the mob rule the day.
The arrival of the Knights of Avalain opened a floodgate of passion within the hearts of the people of this besieged city. Strangled by fear and the threat of death, many reluctantly swore allegiance to Lady Margot in the weeks past. Everything had deteriorated so rapidly after the arrival of the Dark Lord’s first emissary, followed so soon thereafter by the death of the Duke and Duchess. Kettin was never the people’s choice, and when the strong and stunning Lady Margot assumed control during his time of weakness and mourning, the citizenry welcomed her. Talamarans always preferred having their choices made for them, rather than making choices of their own. They were negotiators and compromisers, primarily traders and bargainers by nature. Margot knew this of them and she reorganized the city immediately, offering them just enough to entice them. She ruled with confidence and surety, as well as with a cruelty that they understood and respected, and the people feared her immediately but they admired her as well. In fact, there were those who still did admire her, but their allegiances were all too easily bought and sold.
When suddenly they awoke to find trees sprouted before the walls, with their friends and relatives of all ages and sexes impaled upon them, they were aghast. They accepted her explanation without question or thought, and rallied quickly to her side. Fear and self-interest drove them, and though it could never truly rule their hearts, it obscured their memories and weakened their already limited and now exhausted resolve. Everyone knew that the Lalas were dying, and many truly believed that in their death throes they were losing their compassion for the citizens of Talamar; a compassion that many never candidly felt they deserved to begin with.
By the time the truth began to surface, most of the inhabitants had already committed themselves fully and completely, and there seemed to be no turning back. Margot surrounded herself with enormous Ogres and horrid smelling, evil Trolls who violently and mercilessly dealt with any who thought to resist her authority, though few did even from the onset. They were not a courageous people to begin with. They turned upon one another in order to gamer favor, and they readily gave up their neighbors in order to save themselves; a sad and an ignoble lot. Under these trying circumstances and the lack of internal leadership, all thoughts of opposition faded as quickly as they arose in even those few with the strongest of characters.
Two weeks ago, early one grey morning, Lady Margot rushed out of the gates on her jet black steed with her minions in tow, leaving only Kettin and the Talamaran soldiers she had trained in charge. She left in such haste, trampling anyone or anything that happened to be in her and her troops pathway, that all believed something truly alarming was transpiring in the world beyond the gates of the city, yet they felt relief nonetheless. It was the first time in a long time that the city was free of its recent leadership. The oppressive feelings of anxiety and dread that hung over them every moment of every day that she ruled Talamar were exhausting. In addition, the fear that grasped them with its sharply clawed hand was wearing away at them slowly but surely. In her brief absence, it felt to many as if the sun had risen after weeks of darkness and gloom.
Out of sight, out of mind! The people of Talamar had short memories and even shorter measures of loyalty. The Knights of Avalain with their confidence and impressive appearance, represented an alternative to the depression and joylessness that Margot brought with her. And they offered protection! They were strong and magnificent, and fearless and righteous; a combination of all of the qualities that so few Talamarans embodied themselves. Parsifal offered them a chance, a ray of light, and it began to appear as the better alternative to what they had recently been living with. Weak people make weak decisions. Whether they choose good or evil, their motives determine their worth. Greed and self-interest often obscure the honorable path, and these were the emotions and concerns that precipitated the flawed decisions the people of Talamar made.
The soldiers could do nothing to prevent the people from storming the closed and sealed gates. In fact, many of the armed men themselves sought anonymity in the crowd of desperate citizens, until total chaos prevailed within the square inside the city walls. Screaming and crying could be heard everywhere, as children lost sight of their parents, husbands were separated from their wives, and families and alliances of all kinds were ripped asunder in the desperate frenzy that ensued as so many tried to escape from what had been a virtual prison for weeks now.
High up in the tower chamber of the castle, Kettin stood at the leaded window and warily scrutinized the scene in the street below. He ignored the persistent banging on the door and the shouting, and he repeatedly pressed his hands to his ears in an effort to block out the unremitting sound. He saw the Knights assembled beyond the walls, and at first he thought that the people were gathering in order to attack the columns of soldiers who had arrived at his doorstep the previous day. But as he watched, he soon realized that they were seeking only to flee the city, not to defend it.
“Where are you, Margot? How could you leave me here like this? What am I to do without you?” he beseeched the stone walls that surrounded him, pounding on them with his fists. “My people are abandoning me! You told me you would protect me!” he wailed.
He watched helplessly as the guards who stood before the gates in their new white and green tunics with the trees emblazoned across their chests, were throttled and pummeled and pushed out of the way by the mob. He observed as their ranks collapsed and they gave way to the frantic population. He saw the surge of the masses as they rushed to escape the confines of the city. Kettin gasped as the heavy wooden bars, reinforced by the iron that encircled them, were lifted by the unruly crowd and tossed to the side like a child’s play-sticks. He pulled the curtain halfway over his face and left only his eyes exposed as the enormous gates of Talamar were flung open wide and the throngs of people virtually collapsed upon one another in their rush to flee. From his vantage point, he could see the Knights step casually to the side and form two lines perpendicular to the walls, between which the crowds stumbled and scurried and fought their way out of the city.
“What do you want?” he yelled at whomever was buffeting his door. “Leave me alone! I do not wish to be disturbed!” he shrieked, panic stricken.
Through the thick wood, he heard shouting.
“My Lord?” Fobush yelled. “You must let me in! I have to speak with you!” his councilor insisted. “Time is running out!”
“What is it you need from me? I am not well. I need to rest,” Kettin pleaded, pressing his hands to his ears even harder.
“Open the door. There is nothing wrong with your health. It is your soul that is sick. This door cannot protect you any longer!” he barked. “The witch is not here to stop me now!”
“I am sick! I am weak! I am not hiding. Cannot someone else help you? What can I do?” he
cried.
“Be a man for once!” Fobush shouted furiously. “Face the situation that you are responsible for creating! If you do not open this door, I will bash it down myself if I must.”
Kettin heard a loud banging on the door, much more violent than before. He could see the hinges bulging and the dust flying all over the chamber as the thrashing increased. He backed slowly away from the window and sat down in the corner farthest from the doorway. He drew his knees into his chest and grasped them with his arms. Finally, he bent his head, buried it in the flesh of his forearms and sobbed uncontrollably. Through partially concealed eyes swollen with tears, he watched the wood give way, and filled with dread, he stared as it shattered and splintered into a thousand pieces and fell all over the thickly carpeted floor.
“Get up from the ground, Kettin!” Fobush demanded as he moved toward the cringing Duke. “The time of reckoning is upon us!”
Chapter Thirteen
“Ouch!” Tamara exclaimed as she hit the surface with a dull thud. She blinked her eyes over and over again in an attempt to determine if there was any light down here at all. Sitting up, she rubbed her legs with her hands to try and bring the circulation back. Apparently her fall did more damage than the pain indicated, for she could barely feel her own ankles they were so numb.
Propping herself up with one hand, she leaned heavily onto the floor of the pit. It was covered in a spongy, moss-like substance that was not offensive at all to the touch. As she grew more accustomed to the space, she thought she could see some sort of illumination in the chamber, though it was certainly dim. It did not emanate from any one direction but seemed to come from everywhere at once, as if the substance upon which she sat was itself iridescent. Though she tried as hard as she could to look around her for a sign of Angeline, she could not see far enough into the distance to serve her purposes.
“Angeline?” she called warily. “Are you here? Can you hear me?”
Her words were greeted with silence.
Could she still be up there hanging onto the wall? she wondered. Her fear of falling may be sustaining her, Tamara supposed, but before she could even finish her thought she heard a scraping sound coming from above her head.
“Is that you, Angeline?” she called out in the semi-darkness.
“Thank the First you are alive!” she heard her friend say from somewhere above her. As she spoke, her voice became louder and clearer as she scrambled down the wall. “I watched you disappear into the darkness and then I heard you hit the ground. I counted the seconds between those moments, and at least I knew you hadn’t plummeted too far a distance. Are you hurt? What did you land on?” she asked, almost at the bottom now herself.
“I am not sure. But it is not rock. I am thankful though that I still have some extra padding on my bottom,” she said, though her body was beginning to ache somewhat by this time.
“Can you stand? Is anything broken?”
“I do not think so,” Tamara replied, scanning her body, searching for serious injuries. She stood slowly in the semi-darkness and stretched her limbs one by one. Though they were stiff, none were immobile, and her movements were not accompanied by any serious pain. “No. Nothing is broken. I was lucky.”
“You certainly were!” Angeline said, and Tamara felt the comfort of her friend’s hand on her shoulder. Her silhouette was vaguely outlined beside her in the dark. “Where are we, do you think?”
“I have no idea,” Tamara replied honestly. “Are you okay?” she asked, remembering her friend’s close encounter with the enemy only moments ago.
“Yes, thanks to you!” she smiled. “By the First, Tamara, I was scared! What a horrible feeling that was. I could not breathe at all. And the voice inside my head was just awful! It was laughing and beckoning to me dreadfully, coaxing me to relax and give in to it. You know, I almost did!” she said, shuddering at the memory. “It all happened so fast.”
“I saw her face,” Tamara whispered.
“Whose?” Angeline asked.
“Lady Margot. The woman who attacked me when I first went to visit Liam and Oleander. We seem to be destined to confront one another,” Tamara pondered.
“How did you do that before?” Angeline asked, referring to her rescue from the ghastly slime that had enveloped her.
“I really do not know. At least, I could not tell you in words,” Tamara said. “But, I saw her face materialize before me as I worked. She was not happy!”
“Did you expect her to thank you? That was my job. Thank you, Tamara. Thank you so much!” she extolled her.
“There is no need to do that, Angeline. You would have done the same for me, I have no doubt,” Tamara bowed her head.
“I would have certainly if I could. You speak as if what you did anyone could have done. Tamara? Do you realize what power you have?”
“Power?” she asked, surprised. “I merely did what I had to do.”
“Well sister, would that we all could do it as deftly as you!”
“It was a natural response to the circumstances,” she said.
“I am in your debt, sister,” Angeline nodded.
“And now you can repay that debt, sister,” Tamara said smiling. “I am a bit stiff in the leg. Would you help me to straighten up?” she asked.
“Of course, sister,” Angeline replied.
Angeline helped Tamara to stand, and she massaged her right ankle and calf vigorously.
“That helped,” Tamara said, as she put her weight upon the sore leg and pressed it into the soft surface. “Oh my!” Tamara exclaimed as her foot sunk about four or five inches into the ground. “This is quite unstable, is it not sister? I am glad that I did not sink even deeper.” She pulled her foot out of the downy matter and shook it off. “What do you suppose we should do now?”
“I was hoping that you would have some ideas, sister,” Angeline replied.
“Well, I imagine that it would do us no harm to look around. It seems safe enough down here. At least that awful woman did not follow us any further,” Tamara replied, and then she looked suspiciously around herself.
“Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Angeline asked, as she inched closer to her friend.
“I believe so, sister. If she was afraid to follow us down here, maybe there was a reason.”
“Maybe. I too was wondering that.”
“Let us be careful then,” Tamara said, taking her companion’s arm in her own.
Together, they began to walk cautiously in the dim, iridescent light in the direction that they happened to be facing. The ground was littered with rocks of all sizes and shapes, and Tamara tripped upon one in the gloom.
“Ouch!” she cried. “That hurt. Careful where you walk.”
When they reached the stone and mud of the wall, they followed it to their right and continued pacing out the perimeter of the chamber. Tamara stood closest to the wall and Angeline walked beside her. The stout sister allowed her fingers to gently graze the surface as they moved, and she tried to understand its composition by concentrating as hard as she could upon its feel and texture. It was moist and smooth, though there were indentations every so often that she hesitated at first to stick her hand into.
After walking almost one hundred paces Tamara stopped. Angeline saw she was perplexed by something.
“What is it? What have you discovered?” Angeline asked.
“Walk back with me to where we started,” was Tamara’s reply. When they had retraced their steps, Tamara let go of her friend and knelt down. Placing one of her hands on the juncture between the wall and the floor, she measured upward in hand lengths as she would a horse in the stables, until she reached the first indentation that she had felt previously. She then walked about five paces to the right and knelt down again. Once more she measured the height from the ground up until she reached the next hollow. Nodding her head as if she was reaching some understanding, she continued another five paces to the right and repeated the procedure again.
“These h
oles are not here by accident!” she exclaimed. “They are precisely the same distance apart from one another and the exact same height from the floor. Someone or something arranged them so,” she proclaimed, satisfied with her analysis. “And none of the rocks, no matter how broad they are, stand higher than the holes. Could this be mere coincidence?”
“The holes certainly not. But the rocks? To what purpose, do you think, if not by chance?” Angeline asked. “They seem natural enough.”
“I have no idea. But maybe if I reach inside one of these cavities I will get some answers about them at least,” Tamara replied and swiftly stuck her hand into the one closest to them. She was surprised to find that it was actually quite deep and that her fingers barely felt anything. Her arm was not long enough to reach the hollow’s end. “I cannot imagine what these are. They are so uniform in size and shape, but I cannot feel anything inside.”
“Did you hear that?” Angeline said, startled by a hissing sound coming from above their heads.
“Yes, sister. Unfortunately I did,” she replied, yanking her arm away from the wall. “We may have spoken too soon about Margot not following us down here.”
“Is it she, do you sense?” Angeline asked, and drew her bow from her back and notched an arrow.
“It can be none other than she. I am certain. Come, quickly! We must find a place to hide!” Tamara said, grabbing Angeline’s arm once again. “I do not know what more I can do to keep her away from us.”
Tamara conjured a small orb of light, just enough to illuminate the area in front of it, but not strong enough to expose them to their enemy, though in the semi-darkness it was a risk nonetheless. They quickly ran to the wall of the pit and began to search for an opening large enough for them to conceal themselves inside of. But, all the indentations were of equal size and shape, as Tamara suspected they would be, and none were nearly wide enough for either of them to climb into. They continued to look regardless, as the whooshing sound grew louder and the air grew hotter and more humid by the moment. Margot, it appeared, was being more cautious this time, and she was descending into the bottom of the pit more slowly than during her previous attack.
The Shards Page 13