“Good,” he replied in relief. “Now, turn around and hunch over against the back wall. Face away from me, and make sure your head and ears are covered. This is going to be loud.” Even in the dimness of light, it looked as though Arvil’s complexion paled a little more, but he nodded mutely and did as instructed.
Talan also turned around and placed his dwindling torch into a metal sconce on the wall. He began rummaging through his pockets, looking for his lightweight paper fuse. The fuse was filled with one of his own designs of fire powder, which was more concentrated yet less explosive than the ones he used to break through large spaces in the mines obstructed by rock. As Talan was preparing his fuse, he unexpectedly felt an angry grip on the tender space between his neck and collarbone. A hand squeezed painfully, digging its fingernails into Talan’s shoulder.
“Wha’ doya think you’re doin?” A gruff voice spoke out behind him, and the acerbic stench of old ale wafted into Talan’s nostrils. Talan stood frozen in his spot as the prison guard’s grip on him hardened. “I’s think it be a good idea if ya answer,” the man slurred.
Talan quickly stuffed the fuse back into his pocket and turned around to address the drunken soldier, but the Guard impatiently shoved him as hard as he could, sending the young advisor tumbling into the wall before him. Talan put out his hands to halt his momentum before he cracked open his skull. Pain seared through his left wrist when it made contact with the wall, causing him to yelp in pain. He fearfully looked over his shoulder, his heart pounding, to see the Guard quick on his heels, looking like he was going to pummel him to death with his meaty arms.
“Look, I can explain!” Talan tried to reason. “Just calm down, and let’s talk this out.”
But his pleas did nothing to slow the drunken soldier’s procession towards him. Without thinking, Talan clinched his hand into a fist, waited till the Guard was right up on him, then turned around and swung a massive uppercut directly underneath the his chin with all the strength he had.
The man’s head whipped back, and his neck made an unnatural cracking sound as he stumbled backwards a couple of steps. But the trained Samarian Guard was quick to recuperate. He shook his head, growled underneath his breath then lunged at Talan with a massive swing of his arm. Talan darted to his left then thrust his heel into the side of the man’s knee, causing him to buckle. With the Guard in a state of disarray, Talan advanced on him, ignoring the pain in his left wrist, then boxed him in the temples with his fists. The Guard stopped, looked at him with lazy, inebriated eyes, then crumpled to the floor unconscious.
“Holy Divinity,” Talan said breathlessly while cradling his throbbing wrist in his other arm. “I’ve never hit anyone in my life!” He glanced down at the man by his feet feeling a bit guilty, but quickly shrugged it off.
“Arvil, are you still in position?” Talan asked, followed by a muffled confirmation from inside the cell.
With Arvil’s safety under control, Talan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the paper fuse tapered at the end. He grasped the lock to the cell and slid the pointy end of the fuse into the key slot. He pulled out a sulfur match and swept it across his tinderbox, causing a bright flame to ignite on the end of it. Talan lite the fuse, and the paper immediately took to the flame. Talan ran down a couple of paces away from Arvil’s cell, hunkered over with his hands covering his ears, and waited for the explosion to come.
The vibrations and noise from the blast erupted all around him. It shook the underground space like a small earthquake, and dust and rock rained down from the ceiling. Those couple of seconds seemed like an eternity, but when it was done, Talan stood up and waved his hands in front of his face to make a visible path before him through the floating debris. When he got back to Arvil’s cell, the rusted iron door was blown clear through, and it hung bent and damaged on its hinges. The lock was nowhere to be seen. Arvil appeared through the smoke and dust like a ghostly apparition, surprise written all over his face.
“C’mon,” Talan said grabbing the small man by the elbow. “We got to move quickly. There’s a horse for you and supplies waiting at Hazy Creek Trail.” They had made it to the first archway of the narrow hallway when Arvil stopped him.
“How are you going to explain my breakout to the Samarian Guard? They are bound to find out sooner or later, and you’re the only one comfortable with using fire powder. It won’t be hard to figure out.” Talan gave his fellow advisor a devilish smile.
“Don’t worry, I’ve thought this though. We are going to be having detonations all over the Anion caves the next couple of days. Whose to say a little mishap can’t happen right underneath Mizra itself.”
Arvil glanced behind him to the blacked-out Guard lying on the floor and to the lonely prisoners moping chastised in their cells. He walked back over the Guard and began to rummage deeply into the folds underneath his tunic before finally pulling out a large chain with two keys fastened to the end of it. He removed one key and stuck the other in his shirt pocket.
“Just make sure you get everyone out. Before you blow up anything else,” Arvil said as he pushed the key at Talan. “I don’t want to feel even the slightest bit responsible for any more lives lost.” Talan looped his index finger through one of the spaces between the thick chain links and watched the key sway for a moment in his vision.
“I’ll do what I can,” he promised Arvil. “Now, let’s get you on the road. And quickly.”
With than, Talan steered Arvil back around and ushered him into the narrow hallway. Once through the low ceilinged corridor, the pair ascended two flights of stairs, then detoured to an abandoned mining road that continued to lead them underground, until finally, they found their way out through a cave mouth.
Once outside, they traveled on foot through the daylight to Hazy Creek Trail, which was named for the small creek that ran alongside it for many miles. Arvil stopped once they reached the empty southern patrol tower where Brutus had left a saddled stallion and rations. The General had purposely repositioned all of his men along the Nomanestan border, therefore leaving the outlying posts along Rienne temporarily abandoned in order to give Arvil and Talan the opportunity to escape Samaria unnoticed.
Hazy Creek gurgled pleasantly next to them as it flowed over water worn pebbles before winding around a corner in the distance. It was shallow and Talan could see straight to the bottom. Its fluid melody added to the gentleness of Samaria’s mountain forests. Arvil quickly bathed off in the chilly creek, removing most of the dirt left over from Mizra’s dungeons. Once refreshed, he hoisted himself atop the broad stallion and shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, for the man was so small he looked almost like a child sitting upon the beast.
“I do not want to by implied if this turns out badly, Talan,” Arvil said with a sharp tone to his voice. “Once this favor for you and Brutus is complete, which only entails bringing Chancellor Leonardo to Alumhy, then I’m out. I am only doing this as a tribute to Ambrose’s memory and for no other reason. Do not call on me for anything else because I will not follow through. Label me a traitor or a deserter, it doesn’t matter. I mean not to return to Samaria after this, regardless of which Winnser woman is Queen. I will find refuge along the shorelines of the east, away from it all.”
Arvil paused and fingered the knotty heap of growth hanging from his chin as he thought. His distracted gaze followed the flow of the creek twisting through the trees.
“My gut feeling tells me to beware the Queen,” he warned. “She may be beautiful on the outside, but that conniving woman has something up her sleeve that she’s purposely keeping hidden. And I fear it’s dangerous.” He inched his horse closer to Talan so that he was looking condescendingly down at him from atop his perch; a look Talan was well familiar with.
“I know you’ve been secretly working for her as of late, and I had a lot of time while chained up to think about where your duty lay when it came to all of this. In the end, I came to the conclusion that you are serving the Queen only out of loyalty, beca
use you think it’s the right thing to do. Not because you are involved in whatever back alley deals she’s taken on. You are a good man, Talan, and I apologize for not treating you so in the past. But, considering all of that, I highly suggest keeping yourself on her good side. Those whom the Queen can confide in has rapidly diminished, so do what you can to earn her trust, even though in truth you may be doing what’s best for the future of Samaria and not for her.”
Talan marveled momentarily at the advice Arvil had just given him. He’d known the scrawny man for years and never had he offered Talan anything of than grief. The young advisor couldn’t think of any words to say in return to Arvil’s rare display of openness, so he just reached his hand out peacefully. Arvil clasped it firmly before he turned his horse around to face the road that lead out of Samaria and into Rienne.
***
Following Arvil’s hasty departure, Talan retreated back into mines, this time going north towards the Shoulder. He was constantly looking behind him, fearing that the Guards had unveiled his release of Arvil and were in route to intercept him, yet the road was eerily vacant thanks to Brutus. Queen Evangeline had given Talan a short schedule regarding the completion of his fire powder explosives, and the success of such a venture could dictate the outcome of Samaria’s future against Nomanestan.
The sun was at its zenith when Talan finally emerged from the mine he’d caught Zora sneaking though only a month earlier. It was the last mine he’d opened before redirecting his team to focus on mining the azurite closer to the river instead. Its deep, dark, and silent corridors reminded him of his failure in finding the Anion’s hidden wealth.
“Master Leatherby!” Salem’s cracking voice broke through the stillness of the tundra. “Over here! Come Quick!” His mop of curly golden hair peaked over a large boulder covered in brown vegetation. He waved his twig-like arms in an obnoxious manger. Talan rolled his eyes at the boy’s enthusiasm then stumbled over several yards of gravel and sink holes before reaching the excited teenager.
“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting forever!” Salem whined.
“No, you haven’t,” Talan replied tersely. “And what have you been doing this whole time? Twiddling your thumbs?”
“Not so!” Salem insisted. “I’ve been playing around with the ratios of the fire powder. To see which ones burn the fastest.”
“And what have you discovered?”
“That the one you suggested last week was the best one,” Salem admitted. Talan just rolled his eyes.
While doing his research on this newly envisioned explosive substance, Talan had become even more appreciative of his nationality. Samaria truly was a wealthy country. The saltpeter was discovered in the damp caves along the river, where decaying organic matter was ever present. The sulfur mines were located in the central north region where the highest peaks were located, and where at one time in Samaria’s history, the mountains had spewed molten lava. And the char, the final ingredient, was created by the colliers and used in almost every home in Alumhy.
Woe be to those who try and breech our borders when we have such artifice up our sleeve.
Talan thought back to Zora’s statement to him when they had walked together through the cavernous mines. In fact, he seemed to be thinking about her more often than usual as of late. It was spoken by the intuitive awareness that only a Samarian ruler would have. She may not have realized her inference was a premonition of what was to come, but Talan did. That is why he worked night and day to get as much fire powder made as possible.
“I’ve been here since dawn working on the alterations you gave me, and boy do I have something amazing to show you,” Salem said with a smile.
“Alright now,” Talan addressed the boy. “Show me what you got. We haven’t much time to get this done.” Salem nodded quickly then pulled his breeches up over his scraped knees before crouching down.
“I hollowed some small tunnels in several boulders of varying sizes,” Salem began, gesturing to a large chiseled opening at the base of the rock. “Going off the design of your paper fuse, I was able to create a more durable version and then run it through the tunnels like so.”
He pointed to all the different boulders he’d run the fuse through. It started at ground level then ran in a Z pattern up the side of the mountain about thirty feet high. Salem then picked up one of the fuses and gave it a tug. Talan could hear the hidden fuses brushing inside the stone around him. In the short amount of time Talan had allotted him, Salem had constructed a hidden entrapment running along the mountain itself, and it ended where Salam had poured a barrel of fire powder into an open rock cavity.
“However,” Salem continued proudly, “I’ve added a little something extra you won’t expect.”
Before Talan realized what his ambitious apprentice was doing, the young teen had struck a match on the pebbly ground and ignited the fuse in his hand resulting in a great rain of sparks.
“Wait! What you doing!” Talan exclaimed as the blaze began race along the fuse and through the first hallowed out tunnel.
“I’ve spent all morning constructing this, Master Leatherby,” Salem said with childlike chortle. “Now, it’s time to see how she blows!”
Talan just groaned loudly as the flame raced along the fuse, running up the mountain in a blinding glare trying to reach its final destination. Talan watched intently, pleased with both his invention and Salem’s execution, but as he watched, he realized that while the fuse was burning, it wasn’t leaving any incinerated ash in its wake. Talan pointed out the peculiarity to Salem.
“That’s what I wanted to show you, Master Leatherby…” But Salem’s explanation was cut off by a massive explosion above them. The fuse had finally made contact with the barrel of fire powder, and a chunk of rocky mountain was expulsed hundreds of feet into the air. The blast caused the air and earth to convulse around them, and both Talan and Salem watched mesmerized as pieces of blue mountain the size of horses came racing back to the ground, gaining momentum with each second they fell. Salem’s pleased smile began to fade, and he looked over at his mentor with a panic stricken expression.
“Master Leatherby, we should probably run and get behind something. There’s going to be more!”
“More what?”
“More explosions!” Salem replied, then grabbed his arm like a petrified child and began leading him back towards the abandoned mine as urgently as if wild wolves were nipping at their heels. Without turning around to watch, Talan could hear another massive explosion behind him, followed by another, and then another. All around them the earth juddered and shook as if suddenly angered for being disturbed. Even the sky seemed to be moving and tilting against the horizon as another side of the mountain erupted from its foundation. Talan and Salem were both thrown to the ground with each few steps, landing painfully on the sharp rocks beneath them.
When the pair finally reached to protection of the mine, the last explosion had detonated, and a haze of thick indigo dust encircled the injured mountain like a comforting bandage. Both men were doubled over and breathing hard from their physical exertion, and Talan found that he had multiple scrapes and bruises on his elbows and knees from where he’d fallen.
“So,” Salem began, breathing in heavily. “What do you think?” Talan eyed him suspiciously.
“You did something to the fuse, didn’t you?” he asked as he stood up straight again. Salem nodded fervently.
“I reengineered it so that it doesn’t burn though the first time. In fact, it burns twice. The first run through ignited the first explosion all the way at the top, which then re-lite the fuse to come back down the mountain. I packed each hollowed boulder with fire powder so that as it ran back through the second time, the boulders exploded. Should have been about ten total detonations, from top to bottom. I figured it we used the same logic in the mines, expect on a horizontal not vertical plane, then we could reach several locations underground all at once and put less men in danger.”
He was lo
oking at Talan as he spoke, hoping his teacher wasn’t angry with him for altering his design. Instead, Talan refocused his gaze to the small hill of rock hundreds of feet in front of them. The blue haze was now receding, and beneath it revealed an even more misshapen and deformed geographical edifice than what had been there previously. All Talan could do was laugh out of both surprise and relief.
“Well, despite the fact that you nearly killed us, I think that the Queen will be pleased with our progress.” He placed a hand on the teen’s bony shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go present this to Her Majesty.”
Chapter 22
As dusk encroached on Samaria, Evangeline Winnser finally retired from Mizra’s assembly room where she had been conducting meetings all day. Talan Leatherby had come to her with positive news about his fire powder and a new way to detonate it that would most certainly meet the requirements she’d imposed on him. She felt slightly guilty about putting so much pressure on young man, specifically since he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but these were urgent times.
Going forward, she commanded Talan to begin setting up points of detonation unground and have a final blue print ready for her and Brutus by morning. Talan’s mouth went tight when she asked this of him, but he consented to her requests all the same. Up in till now, Evangeline hadn’t realized how much she relied on Talan. He was clever, kind, and loyal, which was a rare combination of traits to be found in any one man.
As she walked through the wide circular corridors of the ancient fortress, Evangeline stopped at one of Mizra’s open windows and looked down on the city of Alumhy nestled in the valley below her. In the dimming rays of golden sunset, the tile roofs reflected like dull bronze pieces that needed polishing. The openness of Center Market, compared to the compacted structures surrounding it, appeared like a stretched out hole in tightly crocheted afghan. Whereas the market was usually bursting with people, now it was all but abandoned except for the team of laborers who had begun erecting a stage for her to use while addressing the citizens tomorrow evening. But even their presence seemed engulfed by the massiveness of the large empty space.
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