The Blue Journal (Fantasmagoria Book 1)

by I. B. George

  “Thank you, Captain!”

  “You’re free, soldier. You may leave immediately.”

  The soldier saluted, knocked his heels together, then turned around and left the room. Behind him, Kolar stood pensively, pondering what else he could do to successfully accomplish the king’s mission.

  ***

  Captain Kolar’s messenger reached the gates of Heldor Castle two hours after midnight. The guards perched on top of the palace bastions, had glimpsed him from afar, helped by the clear sky which allowed the moon to light up the surroundings.

  One of the guards lent over the edge of the wall and called to the soldier who had stopped in front of the huge wooden gates and was soothing his horse which snorted tiredly after the chase.

  “Stop right there! What’s the password?”

  By Zathar’s scythe, what password is this blockhead talking about?! thought the soldier. The captain never gave me any password and we’ve been away from the castle for a few days. As far as I can remember, the watchword changes each day because the king is afraid someone might attack his brilliant self.

  “I don’t know the password! I’m one of Captain Kolar’s troops… we’ve been gone from the castle for several days!” the soldier yelled back his reply to the guard’s summons.

  “Then you must wait until tomorrow morning when the gates to the castle will open.”

  The soldier was beginning to lose his temper.

  “Listen, you scoundrel, I have an important message for the king from the captain! I didn’t ride all night to guard the castle gates like a dog. Go immediately and wake up your commander or else you shall rot in the dungeons of the palace.”

  The guard scratched his beard disliking the tone of the soldier, but considering that maybe he might have an important message for the king after all. The thought of the cold and dark cells in the castle’s dungeons helped him to reach a decision more quickly.

  “Wait here, sir. I’ll go and call the guards’ commander.”

  After all, it’s better to let him decide if he’s going to let this impudent fellow in, thought the guard.

  He ran down the stairs and climbed off the bastions, crossed the courtyard and headed towards the commander’s quarters.

  “Come in!” the commander answered idly as the guard knocked for a second time.

  The guard plucked up his courage and stepped into the room, knowing that the commander didn’t like to be disturbed during the night.

  Once in the room, the guard’s eyes widened when he saw the fat roasted chicken that the commander was gulping down, accompanied of a large jug of wine. Nearby, a big, well-browned pie rested on a white towel.

  “What do you want?” asked the commander after taking a sip of the flask, thin dribbles running down his chin.

  “There’s a courier, Captain… He says he has an urgent message for the king.”

  “What kind of message?” asked the commander again, chewing vigorously on a gristle which cracked between his sparse teeth.

  “He won’t say,” answered the guard quickly, feeling a hole in his stomach as the smell coming from the food on the commander’s table tickled his nose. “He doesn’t know the watchword either…”

  “Then he can well wait until dawn!” decided the commander, annoyed at being interrupted during his meal.

  “I’m not sure what to say, Captain,” mumbled the guard, feeling again the threat of the cell floating above his head. “It’s a message from Captain Kolar and the messenger seems determined to get to the king and hand it in personally.”

  On hearing the name of Captain Kolar, the king’s trusted man, the commander of the guards stood up from the table in a bad mood.

  “Go and open the gate and bring him to me,” ordered the captain.

  The guard saluted and ran through the door before his superior could change his mind. Once at the gates, he called to the guards to open up and let in the messenger who had been waiting for half an hour.

  He showed the soldier to the commander’s chamber and helped him tie his horse which proceeded at once to drink from the bucket of water in front of him.

  In the same grumpy voice, the captain asked him to come in and the soldier was ushered into the room by the guard. In the meantime, the commander’s grub had vanished from the table, leaving behind a lingering aroma.

  “I’ve been told you have an urgent message for the king,” said the guards’ commander, fixing his gaze on the soldier in front of him.

  “That’s correct, Captain. It’s from honourable Kolar…”

  “Let me see it,” the commander cut him short, holding out his hand.

  “Forgive me, Captain, but honourable Kolar gave me strict instructions and told me that the message must reach the king’s hands only.”

  The commander was beginning to get angry.

  “Can you see the king here in this room, you scamp? During the night, when the king is resting, I’m in charge here. I can’t possibly disturb His Highness’s sleep for any good-for-nothing who turns up in the middle of the night with a piece of paper in his hand. Show me the letter!”

  The soldier undid a few buttons on his cape and took out Kolar’s missive, sealed with the captain’s coat of arms.

  The commander looked at the letter and recognised Kolar’s seal, deep down cursing the captain for having ruined an evening which was promising to be nice and quiet.

  “What’s the message about?” he asked the soldier.

  “I don’t know, Captain,” replied the soldier plainly. “Captain Kolar did not share with me the content of the message.”

  “In that case, soldier, how could I dare to wake the king if I don’t know if the message is important or not? The king has been having very little rest lately, as he is worried about the prophecy. Until we catch Prince Robert, the king shall not find peace and…”

  “But, that’s exactly what …”

  “Don’t interrupt me, you idiot, let me finish what I have to say.”

  “I just wanted to…”

  “Which part of shut up don’t you understand, you dolt?” the commander shouted in anger. “Can’t you understand we have more important things to deal with here? We must look after the king’s nerves and catch Robert, or else…”

  “But that’s exactly…”

  “Oh my, deary me!” the commander was getting angrier and angrier. “Can’t you understand to shut your mouth? Soldier,” he added, addressing the guard who had been watching the whole scene quietly, “take this scoundrel to the lock-up until tomorrow morning when the king will decide his fate. And if he opens his trap again, give him a few lashes.”

  The guard executed the orders and grabbed the soldier by the arm, leading him out of the room.

  Left on his own, the commander took out the food and placed it on the table once more, remarking sadly that both the chicken and the pie had turned cold and the wine was lukewarm. He resumed his feast nevertheless but without his former enthusiasm and started inspecting Captain Kolar’s letter, which had been left on the table.

  Surely I did the right thing by not disturbing the king’s sleep? Listen to that scoundrel… what else could be more important right now than catching Prince Robert? thought the captain to himself as he downed a big gulp of the red wine which have been resting in the jug.

  Five hours later, the letter reached the hands of the king, who, after reading it, ordered Captain Kolar to bring the prisoner to Heldor Castle and abandon chasing Robert’s companions.

  Another half an hour later, the messenger ran back to Captain Kolar, bringing with him King Tyreas’s answer, while the guards’ commander was being locked inside one of the palace dungeons.

  ***

  Mavar “The Hobbler” was fiddling the dice in his dirty hands, grinning to his partner, Bug’ar “The Hunchback”. He raised his eyes to the sky and begged Lokar to grant him the luck he so much needed and win the stake of the game.

  If he won, Bug’ar loot was going to be his, according to th
e Wanderers’ code of honour.

  Eventually he rolled and, with his heart in his mouth, followed the dice spinning along the dust on the road and eventually settling after knocking against a rocky stone in their path.

  Even “One Eye” Grintas lifted the patch off his eye in order to get a better look at the restlessness of the dice, showing a glimpse of a perfectly healthy eye which followed lively the jumps of the bone cubes.

  “Six-six!” Mavar called happily to his partner’s dismay.

  “You rascal, you cheated!” replied Bug’ar jumping to his feet and reaching for his dagger.

  Mavar jumped nimbly at the same time, despite his infirmity, and pulled the sword out of its scabbard.

  “Stop that, you blockheads!” Captain Cavas’s voice rang out from somewhere nearby. “Save your warrior ways for the drunk merchants who venture into our woods, not to fight among yourselves.”

  Mavar put the sword back into the scabbard and grunted at the captain, while Bug’ar placed his dagger back in his belt.

  “He cheated, Captain!” he called, turning to Cavas. “He’s using loaded dice.”

  The Captain narrowed his eyes as he considered the best way to ease the conflict between the two. Eventually, he called to them, pointing at the dice:

  “Bring those things to me… Now!”

  Bug’ar turned on his heels and tried to grab the dice from the dust, but Mavar was faster and managed to hide them in his palm, swifter than a magician.

  “There you are, Captain,” he uttered as he placed the dice in his palms.

  The Captain held them, turned them over on all sides and after uttering a ‘hmm’ rolled them onto the wooden table in front of him.

  The dice rolled again, clanking on the table which the captain had acquired after robbing two furniture merchants from the Kingdom of Clouds who had been uninspired when choosing to cross through the Wanderers’ forest.

  “Five and three, Hunchback. Mavar won fair and square,” the captain announced his verdict.

  Mavar turned to Bug’ar and revealed his yellow teeth in a grin.

  “You heard the boss, Hunchback. Next two bounties are mine.”

  “That’s what you think, Hobbler,” replied the quarrelsome Bug’ar. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a miserable cheating…”

  Mavar pulled a sad face, like an orphan, as he addressed Cavas:

  “Captain, I thought your word was the law and the Wanderers’ code was followed by everyone under your command. I see though that some of us think themselves above the Wanderers’ honour and believe that your decisions…”

  “That’s enough, Mavar! Don’t push it!” Cavas cut him short. “And you, Bug’ar, you’d better respect my decision unless you want to have a little holiday in the Pit.”

  Bug’ar swallowed hard. The thought of spending the next few days inside the dark and damp Pit brought a knot in his throat.

  “Of course, Captain,” he uttered pleadingly. “I was just teasing my good friend Mavar here. You know I’m a bit of a joker…”

  Cavas agreed with a slight nod of the head, even though he knew well enough that Bug’ar could have been called anything but a joker.

  Mavar chuckled inside. Nobody had noticed his trick. He had grabbed the dice from the dust with his left hand while he handed to the captain another pair of dice which he had at the ready in his right hand. How he had robbed the simple minded Bug’ar of his next loot! It was a wonderful day, no doubt about that.

  He saluted his captain then turned on his heels and walked away. He had already taken a few steps when he heard Cavas’s voice behind him, making his blood run cold:

  “Hobbler, come back, we need to have a word!”

  Mavar obeyed and approached Cavas, who was glaring at him. The captain placed his arm across his shoulders and invited him to take a walk together.

  “I assume you are aware, Mavar, that half of Bug’ar’s loot is mine, right?”

  “But, Captain… the code… the trial,” mumbled “The Hobbler”, confused by Cavas’s wish.

  “You’re quick with your hands, Hobbler,” whispered the captain. “But not as quick as my eyes. I clearly saw your little trick when you changed the dice but I wanted to teach Bug’ar a lesson because he disobeyed one of my orders last week. Get it?”

  “I get it, Captain!”

  “Well then, I think we have a deal. Right, Mavar?” ended the captain sweetly.

  “Of course, Captain. It would be my pleasure…”

  “Enough with the sweet talking, Hobbler. Any word of this and I’ll hand you over to Bug’ar who probably can’t wait to do you in.”

  Mavar mumbled something unintelligible and the captain gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, sealing their agreement.

  “Ah!… Mavar!” called the captain again behind him. “Bring one of the prisoners to my tent.”

  “Sure, Captain… which one?”

  “The one they call the Professor. I think he’s in charge.”

  “Agreed, Captain. I’ll bring him right away,” added Mavar obediently.

  “The Hobbler” went away, dragging behind him his left foot which had stopped functioning properly after a fight that landed him with a dagger wound.

  He approached the big tent where they usually kept their prisoners while they waited for a reward. The two guards by the entrance to the tent looked at him enquiringly.

  “Out of my way, scoundrels. Captain Cavas gave me orders to bring one of the captives.”

  “Not until you tell us the password, Hobbler,” said one of them, a rotund fellow who used to be a baker’s aide in a nearby village.

  “What password, you idiots?” shouted Mavar. “The captain didn’t tell me any password. He only said I should bring one of them.”

  “We can’t let you into the tent without a password,” the round lad cut him short.

  Mavar looked up and down at the fat fellow, making the former baker’s boy begin to wonder what he was up to.

  “Yes, I think they should make it a bit bigger,” he said at length, inspired by this idea that’s just popped into his head.

  “Make what bigger?” asked the fatty curiously.

  “Oh, nothing, nothing,” replied Mavar, as though it was just a thought.

  “Come on now, Hobbler, the suspense is killing me,” called the fat lad, his forehead sweaty and dying to find out what Mavar was thinking about.

  “It’s just something the captain said… before coming here…”

  “What, man? Out with it!”

  “He told me that if anyone dares to disobey his command, he shall send them to the Pit for the next three days. And, I’m not entirely sure, but I think the old wound, the one on his shoulder, is bothering him again ‘cause he seemed real annoyed. Only, you see, the thing is he would have to make the entrance to the Pit bigger for you,” ended Mavar, seemingly not paying attention to the fellow in front of him, but watching him from the corner of his eye.

  He saw the fatty going white in the face and the other guard loosening the collar of his shirt with his finger, as if it’d stopped fitting him all of a sudden.

  “I’ll be on my way then,” said “The Hobbler” turning around. “See you… in three days.”

  The two guards looked at each other in fright. Eventually, the round guy called after him, anxious to stop him before he went too far off.

  “Mavar, buddy!”

  “The Hobbler” grinned in satisfaction then turned towards the two with a serious look on his face.

  “Yes?”

  “How could we disobey Cavas’s orders? Please come in and take whoever you like. But make sure you tell the captain we followed his orders.”

  “Of course, buddy,” Mavar reassured him, “without a fail!”

  The guards unblocked the way and allowed “The Hobbler” to go to the tent. He drew the curtain that hung at the entrance and stepped inside.

  As soon as he went in, everybody’s eyes turned towards him. The prisoners were s
itting on the floor, their hands and legs tied up. The guard in the tent saluted and “The Hobbler” replied with a grunt. The guard was about to say something else, when Mavar cut him short:

  “Do not ask me for the password, I already told it at the entrance,” he uttered confidently.

  The guard swallowed his words and waited for Mavar’s next move.

  “The Captain sent me to bring one of the prisoners to him… the one they call the Professor.”

  The guard raised his hand and pointed to Radius.

  “That’s him, over there, the one with the white beard.”

  Mavar headed towards the Professor, removed his knife from the belt and bent down to cut off the rope around his legs.

  “Get up!” he ordered after managing to untie the string which immobilised Radius.

  Released from the ropes which had been holding him glued to the floor for some time, the Professor started rubbing his numb feet.

  At last, he stood up and addressed Mavar, looking him straight in the eye:

  “I’m ready, we can go now.”

  “Follow me,” replied “The Hobbler” and started towards Captain Cavas’s tent after drawing back the curtain to the entrance.

  It was midday and the sun shone brightly. After the semi darkness in the tent, Radius was suddenly blinded by the light outside which forced him to close his eyes.

  He opened them again after a few moments and followed Mavar who was limping his way across to the captain’s tent, dragging his bad leg behind him.

  To Radius, the Wanderers’ camp looked like a motley crew, one character more dubious than the next. Sitting in the shade of the trees or in front of their tents, most of Cavas’s men spent their time playing cards or throwing dice. Squabbles broke out from time to time which most times turned into fights between people accusing each other of dishonesty. Some of them, the quieter and less greedy ones, sat sharpening their swords or knives, stroking the blades of the weapons with rough stones.

  Radius was worried about wasting even more time because of their captivity and remembered how little they had until the fourth phase of the moon. Every moment was precious and the Professor wondered what he could have said to the captain that might have helped with their release.