Amáne of Teravinea - The Chosen One (The Teravinea Series Book 1)

by D. Maria Trimble

  Astride Eshshah once more, I gave her the word and she dove off the ledge.

  We flew along the battlement wall following the river, watching for any sign of guards in the towers. We saw no one. I made a mental note of the distance I would have to travel to get back to the outpost where Eshshah would wait for us. I fought my discouragement as I saw it was much greater than I had hoped.

  At last we came to the tower that rose above the dungeons far below. I gave Eshshah’s neck a long hug and another kiss. Grabbing my spear, I quickly slid off the saddle and made my way down the rope, silently landing on the battlements. Swallowing my fear, I watched her fly off. Time pressed on — I had to be in and out before daylight and already the ruse we set up at the river mouth had taken up more than we had counted on.

  Getting my bearings, I checked my surroundings before sprinting from the shadows where I’d landed. I headed toward a tower door where the stairs would take me down into the recesses of the castle.

  Dorjan explained that these stairs, and in fact all of the steps in the towers and outer walls, were built unevenly. This was to trip up enemies who hadn’t learned this particular castle’s stair pattern. He taught me the pattern, but even still I had to catch myself a few times as I miscounted. I decided I should slow down a bit. It would be a disaster if I were to clatter down to the bottom should I lose my count.

  Descending the tower’s spiraling stairs, I checked the arrowslits in the wall to see where I was in relation to the ground level. My one consolation was that since the Castle Outpost was much lower than the battlements, where I started my run, we would not have as many levels to climb back up to the entry cavern. In fact, once I got to the dungeon level, we would only have to go up three levels to get to the Castle Outpost height.

  The drop in temperature told me I had reached the underground level, but I continued to descend. The air became more dank. The stairs grew slick with moss the further down I went. My progress slowed. At each level a doorway opened up into a corridor. I carefully peered out the door to check for guards. To my surprise the corridors were always empty. Was Galtero that egotistical to think no one would dare oppose him; or that ignorant not to guard his fortress better? I was, however, very thankful. Either way, it was to my advantage.

  Four levels underground, I finally reached the level of the dungeon. The stench was nearly unbearable. Death, vomit, stale ale, urine and other unidentifiable odors wafted toward my sensitive nose. I had to sip some of my water and swallow hard more than once to keep from retching. How could the guards even stand to work in such conditions? I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to these vile odors.

  The stairs ended at a long corridor which led me to another passageway that ran perpendicular to the one in which I stood. I checked both ways. The passage was clear. I entered and turned right — my senses sharpened to any sound or movement. A short distance up the corridor I saw light casting out from a doorway, and heard voices. I had reached the guardroom. Sweat flowed in rivulets down my body. I needed to stop for a second and take some breaths. I could feel Eshshah’s gentle encouragement as she stayed with me in open thought transference.

  Noiselessly, I made my way to the doorway. The gruff voices of the guards grated on my ears. They were engaged in dicing, a favored gambling pastime. Boisterous outbursts and foul language assaulted me. I smelled a strong odor of ale.

  “I’ll roll ya for the boots off of that cursed rich one we’re ordered not to touch,” said one voice. “The second we know someone is comin’ to take him to the executioner, we’ll take ’em. He’s not gonna be needin’ ’em anyway, with no head on his shoulders.”

  “What’re they waitin’ for?” asked a second voice.

  “King Galtero to get back. He wants to watch the execution himself — make sure he’s good ’n dead,” a third voice answered.

  Repulsive laughter echoed from the room. The first voice added, “I don’t want ’em after they’re filled with his blood. I’ll roll first.” They laughed even harder. I had the urge to turn and run. My guess was they were talking about the Healer’s nephew.

  I craned my neck around the doorway to establish their number and positions. Thankful for my good fortune, I noted there were only three of them. They stood close to each other with their backs toward me, near the far wall. I unhooked the lightning ball from my belt, hoping all of the guards were present, and that they’d stay interested in their game.

  Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself for my first encounter. I leaned my glaive against the wall, and wrapped my fingers around the lightning ball. I pulled the brass ring out and prepared to toss the device. Exhaling slowly and evenly, I brought my arm back and whispered Torin, Unule, Salama, then lobbed the ball against the wall just as one guard threw the dice. Immediately, I ducked back into the passageway. The explosion, wind and flash took them quickly. I’m sure they never knew what hit them. When I looked again, they lay crumpled in a heap on the ground.

  With a sudden sense of smug accomplishment I grabbed my glaive and carelessly rushed into the guard room to make the door on the far side.

  This was a serious error on my part.

  As I bolted for the door, I nearly collided with a large guard — his blade drawn. A brief sense of relief passed through me seeing he was only armed with his sword, not his halberd. Even better, he didn’t have his shield.

  I didn’t miss the change in his expression from alarm to that of amusement as he looked me up and down. He relaxed his defenses when he saw the size of his adversary.

  This was a serious error on his part.

  Without hesitation he lunged at me. I stepped to the side and used the shaft of my spear to trip him up. He thudded heavily to the ground. I should have followed through instantly and stuck him with my blade as he fell. The voices of Gallen, Dorjan and the Healer echoed in my mind. “If you are confronted, be prepared to kill. Do not hesitate, or it could mean your life. It will not be practice, Amáne, you may not get a second chance.”

  Instead, I froze. I couldn’t finish him. He rolled over and noted my indecision. A self-satisfied sneer curled his lip as he leaped to his feet, and swung his blade at my head. I moved fast, ducked his swing and ran backwards to open up the distance between us — I needed the gap to make full use of my spear. He raised his sword for his next strike. I faced an unexpected opportunity — a second chance. I thrust my blade into his armpit that was left unprotected. Warm blood spattered my way as his eyes opened wide with the realization he would be meeting his ancestors.

  I yanked out my glaive and stood motionless as he toppled to the dirt floor. A loud huff of air released from his lungs. Shock coursed through my body. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Comprehension washed over me — I had just taken my first human life.

  “May you join your ancestors in peace.” I whispered as a wave of nausea overtook me. Leaning on the wall, I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor. I wiped my mouth and the tears from my eyes with the back of my glove.

  I pulled myself together, grabbed the guard’s sword from his limp hand and ran cautiously to the passageway that contained the cells. I needed to keep moving. I summoned all my willpower and with Eshshah’s presence, managed to move forward. Our duty was to bring the Healer’s nephew home. I was determined we would succeed.

  A long row of cell doors filled the corridor both to my left and to my right. Dorjan said Ansel would more than likely be in the cells to the right. I fervently wished he was correct. There were about twenty cells to check in that direction alone.

  The small observation windows in the cell doors were almost too high for me. But if I stood up on my toes and used my spear for balance, I could just reach to open them and see who was inside. The first cell held what looked like an old woman in chains on the far wall. Moving to the next cell, I found a man who had already joined his ancestors — mouth gaping, eyes staring. I checked cell after cell as I hurried down the corridor, but found no prisoner that fit Ansel’s
description.

  Two more cells left. I raised myself to the window one more time to peer inside. Suddenly a twisted face popped up at me from the other side like a hideous toy jack-in-the-box. The prisoner let out an insane shriek. I stifled a scream and fell backwards. My spear clattered to the floor, as the mad man inside laughed hysterically. I was ashamed and angry at myself for my reaction. Picking myself up, I fought the urge to cover my ears from the continued ranting of the demented man.

  Finally, I reached the last cell and opened the observation window. This time I listened before I looked inside. Toward the far wall was a figure in chains, slumped over. His head rested on crossed arms positioned on top of his bent knees. His long dark hair fell over his arms. From the looks of his fine clothing, though filthy and disheveled, and the description the Healer had given me about his long hair, I was sure it was Ansel. I breathed a sigh of relief as I pulled Aperio’s key from my belt.

  Silently whispering, “Aperio,” I unlocked the cell door and crept inside. I closed the door behind me, and softly called Ansel’s name. There was no response. He remained in the same position. I moved closer and whispered his name again. My heart sank — was I too late? He may already be close to his ancestors. I laid my spear and the guard’s sword down and moved closer to where he sat. Fearful of the worst, I put my hand out to try to rouse him.

  I was not prepared for what happened next. With lightning speed he leaped behind me. He raised his hands above my head and brought them down in an attempt to choke me with the chains that bound him.

  My reaction was instantaneous as I dropped into a crouch and ducked my head. I leaped out of his reach, then wheeled around to face him. We both stood frozen in our fighting stances — our eyes locked.

  I held his green eyes, where a mixture of emotions played. First a hint of alarm — I don’t think he expected me to move that quickly. Then instantly, they flashed with disappointment — he had missed his chance to kill me. And finally they were filled with hatred and anger as he glared at me.

  There was something familiar about him, a kind of connection I made, although I was certain I had never met him.

  My train of thought was broken as a string of curse words flew from his mouth and then he almost growled, “If these chains hadn’t stopped me, boy, I would have killed you. Unchain me and fight fairly.”

  I knew otherwise, but said instead, “I have no doubt you’d like to kill me. I don’t want to fight you, but was sent to release you.”

  “Release me? To the executioner?”

  “No, Ansel. Your aunt, the Healer, sent me. I’ve come to take you home.”

  “My aunt sent a boy to rescue me? Were there no men available in all of Teravinea that she had to send a boy? That doesn’t sound like her.” His eyes narrowed, and with poison in his voice, “Tell me who you are, swine herder.”

  “She told me to give you this ring.” I slipped the chain from around my neck and held it out. “She said you would recognize it and that I was to tell you that your father would want you to have it, as the time will be nearing for you.” I couldn’t make sense of the message, but delivered it word for word.

  His eyes told me he understood what I’d said, but he remained wary. “Are you going to hand it to me, or just stand there gawking like a fool?”

  I gave him the message and it was obvious he knew what I meant. So why did he have to be so rude?

  He was an admirable foe — and quite full of himself. However, I was glad he was on my side, even though he didn’t realize it at the moment. I reminded myself he was probably in shock from the trauma of Farvard’s death, then his abduction and ending up here in chains.

  But, my stubbornness got the better of me — two could play this game. “Well, if you would use your brain, and stop playing the fool yourself, you’d see I’m telling you the truth. Hold your urge to kill me — maybe then I can hand it to you.”

  The look on his face told me he wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to with such disrespect, especially by someone of a lower class. But he slowly relaxed his stance and held his hand out for the ring. I came closer cautiously and put it in his hand, then quickly stepped back.

  “So, you believe me now? If I unlock your chains, you won’t attack me? We need to get out of here before daybreak.”

  He held out his hands for me to unlock the chains, his eyes still fixed in a glare. His attitude was starting to annoy me.

  I pulled the key from my belt and whispered “Aperio,” unlocking the bands that held him. The shackles opened and dropped to the ground. Ansel rubbed the raw skin on his wrists. For a moment he looked so vulnerable and weak, I almost pitied him. Even still, his arrogance irritated me. I wasn’t so sure if we were to have met under other circumstances, we would have gotten off to a better start. I doubted it.

  I handed him the water skin. He looked suspiciously at it, then at me. Snatching it back from his hands, I took a swig to prove it was safe. I handed it back to him and didn’t hide my angry stare. He nearly drained the entire skin.

  “Here, now drink this. The Healer sent it to give you some strength.” I held out the vial of the dark liquid.

  Ansel hesitated and shot me the same suspicious look.

  “Go ahead, take it, it’s not poison. You’d be wise to start trusting me if we’re going to get out of here alive.” I couldn’t keep the urgency from my voice.

  He grabbed it from my hand and tossed back its contents. His face scrunched and he nearly choked. I didn’t bother to hide my amusement. I was not ashamed of my bad attitude toward this young arrogant lord.

  Ansel’s condition improved noticeably after he finished the Healer’s concoction. I picked up my spear and the sword from the dead guard. Still piqued at him, I thrust the hilt toward him and said, “Here, take this. I hope you know how to handle a sword.”

  “Probably better than you can handle that spear.” He shot back.

  Fighting a sarcastic response, I pressed my lips together, turned and inched the cell door open. Peeking around the corner, I made sure no other guards had shown up, then motioned it was clear. I had found him alive, and now I had to get him back to the Castle Outpost and meet up with Eshshah. I was thankful for the adrenaline that had kicked in — and for Eshshah’s venom that ran in my veins.

  “We’re on our way, Eshshah, stay with us,” I said ... out loud.

  “What?” Ansel asked, looking to see if I had an accomplice.

  “Nothing.”

  We had to go back through the guardroom to get to the corridor that would take us to the outpost. Ansel eyed the three guards in a heap by the wall as we stepped around the one lying in a pool of blood. He turned to me with eyebrows raised. Ashamed of what I had done, I shrugged, but kept moving.

  We stayed on the same level as the dungeons and found the passageway that led back toward Eshshah. I mentally went over the path we needed to take. My confidence started to build. The hard part was over and now it was just a matter of navigating the maze of corridors and tunnels back to safety.

  We were in a passageway with no exits when I heard voices around the next corner. I put my hand on Ansel’s arm and stopped him.

  “There are men coming and there’s no place to hide. We have to fight.”

  “I can’t hear anything.”

  “Why can’t you just listen to me and trust that your aunt sent the right person? I can hear them coming. It sounds like four different voices. Get ready.”

  After a scowl in my direction, he reluctantly followed my lead. We flattened our backs to the wall at the corner where they would make their turn. Just before they were upon us, we jumped into the corridor and lunged at them. Surprise was our ally as we each dispatched a guard, dropping them at once to the floor.

  “May you rest with your ancestors,” I whispered, suppressing a wave of nausea.

  The two left standing had the extra seconds to react. Recovering their wits, they faced us with their halberds. I would have preferred, of course, that they only ha
d swords, especially for Ansel, as a pole axe versus a sword was not an even match.

  Sizing up the large man in front of me I took in his slovenly appearance, uncharacteristic of a trained soldier. I could only hope he was as sloppy with his skills. I ducked as he swung at my head, then sidestepped to get behind him and trip him. He stumbled, but didn’t go down as I had expected. I noted a flash of rage in his eyes as he spun around on me and swung again. This could work for me.

  “Is that all you have?” I taunted as I ducked his second stroke. “You swing like a girl.” I sneered.

  His face reddened, his eyes blazed. He charged at me and threw a shot. I parried his careless blow and jumped back. The man’s anger interfered with his decisions, just as I had hoped.

  I heard a clatter to my right and realized Ansel’s opponent had managed to knock away his sword. He lunged toward Ansel for the killing stroke. Ansel dove and rolled out of reach, barely evading the blade. In the split second I had before my guard closed the gap, I drew my spare sword.

  “Ansel!” I shouted as I tossed it to him. He sprang to his feet. To my relief, he caught it just in time to fend off the next strike aimed at him. I turned my attention back to my fight.

  Backing up to get my distance so I could thrust my glaive, I slipped on a dead guard’s blood and went down hard, landing on my back. A rush of air forced out of me. I struggled to refill my emptied lungs. My eyes opened in time to see the man with his weapon poised directly above my head — a glare of death in his piercing dark eyes. He brought his pole-axe down on me just as I succeeded in finding my breath. I instantly rolled to one side, but the edge of his blade caught me on my unprotected upper arm. I yelped in pain but managed to leap to my feet. Spinning to face him, I allowed a slight smile as I caught him wrestling to release his blade from the grip of the dirt floor. It was the opportune moment that I needed — the advantage turned my way. Again, a second chance. I thrust my blade into his ribs between the buckles of his sloppily fastened breastplate. He fell with a thud as I relinquished him to his ancestors.