In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2)

by Stephen L. Nowland

  Although Pacian had meant it as an offhand remark, Aiden caught onto the idea – not so much the axe injury itself, but rather what happened to him afterward. It was entirely plausible that his ‘death’ had some unexpected consequences. Sayana’s words not long after the event rang through his mind - dragons always exact something in return for their services.

  “You look worried,” Pacian consoled him in his own unique way. “Here, maybe this will take your mind off… your mind,” he added, taking out a small gold ring, the one he had ‘liberated’ from the student’s tower.

  “What about it?” Aiden asked, taking the ring in one hand.

  “You’re pretty good with that arcane stuff,” Pacian hinted. “Does it do anything interesting?” Aiden looked closer at the ring and allowed his vision to shift, revealing a subtle aura of blue energy suffusing it.

  “It’s definitely special,” he surmised, fascinated as always at the prospect of new arcana. There was a good chance Alan had stolen this from one of the Deans, along with his other acquisitions. He peered closely at the ring, noting tiny runes inscribed around the periphery. There was also some writing on the inside of the loop, and bringing it in closer he was able to make out some sort of activation sigil written there, one that suggested a very kinetic result.

  “So?” Pacian prompted.

  “It’s a weapon,” Aiden declared. “I don’t know what it does exactly, but if one points the ring at something and speaks this command word, it’ll do something pretty spectacular.”

  “Hey, what are you doing with it?” Pacian protested, noticing Aiden about to slip it onto his middle finger. “I found it, it’s mine. Hand it over.”

  “Are you sure?” Aiden asked dubiously, returning the device. “The word needs to be spoken exactly for it to work properly, and sometimes you even have trouble speaking Aielish.”

  “Ha, ha,” Pacian replied dourly. “Just tell me what to say, and I’ll be sure to really concentrate when I go to use it.” Aiden shrugged and told him the command word, being careful to do so after handing it over. Pacian put it into one of his pouches, and began reciting the word over and over again, even managing to sound it out almost exactly as Aiden had described.

  “You really are an odd young man,” Sir William remarked, startling both of them with his sudden appearance next to the table. “A fine pair of spy-hunters you are, allowing an old man to sneak up on you unnoticed.”

  “Sir William, I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Aiden remarked blandly. The knight sat down at the table, unstrapping his sword belt as he did so and leaning the hilt against the table.

  “I regret to say that the years are catching up with me,” he sighed. “Granted, my wounds were severe, yet by the grace of God I was always back on my feet in no-time. But now?” He shook his head ruefully.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation,” Aiden offered to him, “I’m sure Val will never let you forget your weakness.”

  “That woman,” Sir William grumbled, glancing over to the bar where the warrior-maiden was having a drink with the diminutive raelani druid. “If you weren’t so short on aid, I would strongly suggest you dispense with her, Mister Wainwright.”

  “Oh, she’s not so bad,” Aiden corrected the knight. “You just need to be a little more understanding of where she’s from.”

  “Perhaps, but if it’s all the same to you, I would sooner be rid of such an uncouth influence in our holy quest.”

  “I wasn’t aware our quest had holes in it,” Pacian quipped.

  “How droll,” Sir William remarked. “If your quest was bereft of divine aid in the past – which as you know isn’t true – then things have changed of late.” He looked down to the hilt of the magnificent weapon that lay there, appearing almost alien in its construction compared to his own simple blade. On a hunch, Aiden examined it closely and noticed it seemed to be made of a metal other that iron.

  He was no expert on smithing, but had once read about ancient artificers who had discovered how to make an unbreakable metal. The name as well as the method of its production had been lost in time, but it was referred to in more recent works as auldsteel. If true, its value was beyond estimation.

  “So… that sword,” Pacian said, also staring at the hilt of Solas Aingeal. “Are you sure you want to leave it leaning against the table where anyone could take it?”

  “Nobody can steal that which has been given by providence,” Sir William replied. “For example, I forbid you to take this weapon.” Pacian gave him a confused look for a long moment, before it dawned on him that it was a test. Licking his lips, he leaned across the table and grasped the hilt of the weapon. A few seconds later he let it go and recoiled, slumping into his seat and raising his arms over his face.

  “Pace?” Aiden asked, genuinely concerned. He glanced at Sir William, who wore a look of surprise on his weathered features.

  “Tell me, Mister Savidge,” the knight asked calmly, “do you have trouble sleeping at night as the demons of your past slowly erode your soul?”

  “What did that thing do to him?”Aiden asked with a concerned look at Pacian.

  “It did nothing other than illuminate the emptiness in his own heart,” Sir William replied sadly. Pacian immediately stood up, throwing his chair to the floor and stalking off to the other side of the bar. Aiden ran a hand through his hair, recognising the mood Pacian was now in – the sooner they had something to fight, the better he’d feel.

  “Don’t judge him too harshly, Sir William,” Aiden advised. “He’s had a rough life.”

  “I wasn’t judging him,” the knight assured him. “Touching a holy relic makes one look deep within, and Pacian clearly found himself lacking. His path is his own to take, though it pains me to say he will come to a bad end, in time.” Aiden didn’t have a reply for that statement, for part of him knew that was probably going to come true.

  Maggie and Valennia came over to join them shortly afterward, and the four of them idly bantered about recent events while they awaited word from Perry. True to Aiden’s observation, Valennia made sport of Sir William’s perceived frailty during their battle in the mausoleum, and the gruff knight was clearly struggling to remain civil during the conversation.

  It was just as the sun was about to set when Nellise walked through the inn doors, appearing tired from her afternoon helping the homeless under the city. Sparky accompanied her, dressed in adult clothing but still easily confused for a human child if one didn’t look too closely.

  “Welcome back,” Aiden greeted the beautiful cleric, noticing that she had taken the time to bathe before returning to the inn. “Are you okay?”

  “Well enough,” she quietly replied, running a hand through her pale locks, “though being amongst so many downtrodden people has affected me rather deeply. I’ll be okay.”

  “I know you have a soft spot for those in need,” Aiden remarked, “but did you have to bring this one back with you?”

  “Mister Wainwright,” Sir William admonished him. “This child is clearly in need of aid, and I daresay Nellise has kindly offered it to her.”

  “Yeah, be nice,” Sparky grinned maliciously, sounding very unlike a child in the process.

  “No, he’s right - she’s a terrible person,” Maggie advised, crossing her arms and keeping a close eye on the ‘girl’.

  “I’m not here to bandy words with you,” Sparky told them in a more measured tone, drawing a look of realisation from Sir William as the knight came to understand that she was not a human child. Ronan appeared from across the room, still putting on his armour as he approached.

  “Is there news?” he asked.

  “We’re just about to find out,” Maggie told him.

  “Say your piece and be done with it, deceiver,” Valennia said bluntly to Sparky.

  “I bring word from Perry,” Sparky continued, flashing the akoran woman a dangerous look. “He is not prepared to divulge the location of the assassins, lest he become a target himself.”

/>   “Shit,” Aiden muttered, bitterly disappointed by the news.

  “Language, sir,” Sir William admonished him.

  “Sorry, ladies,” Aiden replied absently, far more potent curses circling around in his mind. “This puts us right back to square one, though. I would have thought the head of the thieves’ guild would have been in possession of a little more courage.”

  “I’ll be sure to not let Perry know you said that,” Sparky replied blandly. “I know you wanted to hear differently, but this is the message I was told to deliver. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “What do we do now?” Nellise asked. “Without a direct lead, there’s no way we’re going to track down this organisation.”

  “While you think on that,” Sparky offered casually, “I think you might enjoy a little tour of the city.”

  “I have no idea why you’d think that,” Aiden observed dryly. “Oh, and you can leave now, in case you were wondering.”

  “Fine, I’m going,” Sparky said with a shrug. “But I think you’d find the Royal Art Gallery in the Senate District to your liking, that’s all. Be seeing you.” Aiden watched her disappear into the gathering crowd, pessimistic thoughts drifting through his mind when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

  “Was that… a hidden message?” he asked. Maggie glanced over at him, her tiny brow furrowed in thought.

  “Perry’s trying to be clever,” Ronan suggested with a wry grin, “but if that’s the information he wanted us to hear, then I’d bet our target is somewhere nearby, possibly even in the gallery itself.” Aiden’s pulse quickened as he realised Perry was simply trying to cover his tracks. He stood from the table, a smile creeping over his face.

  “Are you all prepared to head out right now?” he asked, and received nods from all present. “Pace, get over here,” he yelled, summoning his friend from the bar.

  “What?” he asked, still not in the best mood, but Aiden had some news that would cheer him up.

  “It’s on,” Aiden informed him. “Go grab Sayana and let’s go.” An evil grin appeared on Pacian’s lips as he set his drink down, flipped a coin to the bartender, and then went upstairs to fetch the sorceress.

  *

  “So, do you think we were meant to come here just as they closed up for the day?” Maggie wondered. Aiden and the others stood in the deepening shadows just down the street from the gallery, watching as the curator locked the front door and walked into the evening gloom.

  “That shouldn’t present a problem,” Ronan dismissed, “and it’s probably for the best, anyway. If we run into the assassins, the last thing we need is a bunch of art lovers getting massacred.”

  “I’ll leave it to you to get us in there,” Aiden told him. The streets were practically deserted, with only the occasional passer-by moving quickly to get out of the cold.

  “Just give me a minute,” Ronan instructed, then sauntered to the front door of the gallery. The sun had already set, and the only light was coming from the lanterns dotted along the street at regular intervals. From what little Aiden could see, the sailor was pretending to be fumbling with his keys as he attempted to unlock the door.

  “I think he’s got it,” Sayana remarked in a hushed voice, her eagle eyes clearly able to discern exactly what was going on.

  “Let’s go,” Aiden whispered, leading the group down the street and in through the front door of the gallery, which Ronan held open as if inviting them into his own home.

  It was pitch black within the walls, so Aiden invoked a light on his belt buckle, with Sayana and Nellise also enacting their own sources of illumination. The halls before them were lavishly carpeted, with expertly carved woodwork around the walls adding to the overall opulence of the gallery. Large paintings hung from the walls at regular intervals, displaying the talent of Aielund’s artists for all to see, for a modest admission fee of course.

  “Do you have any idea what we’re looking for?” Nellise asked of Ronan.

  “Not a clue, really,” Ronan shrugged. “This place isn’t huge so I don’t think there’s anywhere to hide within the gallery itself. There could be a secret passage somewhere, I guess. We should spread out and look around carefully for anything that resembles the outline of a door, handle or something similar.”

  “These pictures are beautiful,” Sayana whispered in awe, looking at a painting that depicted a serene lake in a forest. She peered at the picture very closely and raised a hand up to touch the canvas with an extended finger. The finger began to glow softly, the same colour as the sky she was looking at, as if she was trying to duplicate it. Aiden was reminded of the simple image she had created back in the Calespur ranges, using nothing but coloured lights created by her own sorcery.

  “Try to stay focused. We’re not here for sightseeing,” Aiden advised. So far, he hadn’t found anything that would suggest a secret passageway, so he started checking behind the paintings themselves, thinking that the larger canvases might be hiding some sort of latch or handle.

  He entered a large room, adorned on all walls with paintings depicting everyday life in Fairloch. Across the room, Nellise, Sir William and Valennia were examining the walls closely, having arrived at the room from another corridor.

  “I fail to see the point of these ‘paintings’,” Valennia said to the other two. “Why create pictures of nature when you can just go and live there?”

  “They beautify our lives, without the necessity of leaving the city, or even one’s home,” Sir William explained, as if to a child. “You see, with the basic necessities of life covered, one can pursue more intellectual pursuits, such as what you see here,” he explained, gesturing at the paintings. “People living a savage existence simply don’t have time to explore the finer pursuits.”

  “Tell me more of your views on ‘savages’,” Val replied with dangerous calm, “I wish to hear what you truly think of those who do not dwell in your cities.”

  “I was merely suggesting that adopting a more civilised approach would allow the akoran people to thrive,” the knight replied delicately. “I wasn’t equating ‘savage’ with ‘insane barbarian’… despite all evidence to the contrary.”

  “There is nothing insane about my prowess, old man, and I choose my targets carefully,” Valennia warned in a low voice.

  “Val, don’t provoke the nice man,” Aiden advised, sensing Sir William was approaching the end of his patience. He didn’t want to see what Solas Aingeal would do to the akoran warrior. “I think the two of you should agree to disagree, and focus more on locating that hidden door we’re all so keen to find.”

  “Do not be alarmed, Aiden,” Sir William replied casually, “I believe I have fully communicated my disposition as to her proclivities.”

  “Huh?” Valennia said with a confused look.

  “Now look what you’ve done,” Aiden remarked blandly, “you’ve gone and broken her brain.”

  “Shh!” Ronan hissed at them from the hallway. “You lot are louder than a deck full of sailors. Keep quiet or they’ll know we’re coming, if it isn’t already too late.”

  “Sorry,” Aiden replied lamely, turning back to search the walls carefully in silence.

  “Aiden, over here,” Sayana called quietly a few minutes later. He walked over to a large painting, one he’d looked at earlier without success.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, not seeing any reason for the call.

  “This painting is different to the others,” she pointed out. “All of the paintings here have a theme of life on the streets of this city, and yet this one depicts the violent death of an important man – it doesn’t fit with the others.” Aiden adjusted his position to make sure his arcane light was shining fully upon the painting, and took a closer look at the picture itself.

  “The Overthrow of Kings,” Aiden murmured, reading from the plaque. It was a work of violence and blood, showing the death of a king at the hands of an outraged populace armed with pitchforks and torches.

  “This one r
eally speaks to me,” Valennia confided, peering at the picture from over Aiden’s shoulder.

  “I can’t imagine why,” Aiden muttered absently. “Pace, come have a look at this and see if there’s some sort of mechanism.”

  “Give us some room,” Pacian advised as he pushed through to the front and began carefully running his fingers along the edge of the frame. Finding nothing, he tried lifting the picture off the wall but found that it could not be moved. “Are they supposed to be fixed to the wall like this?”

  “No, they usually just hang off a hook on the wall,” Sir William explained.

  “This has got to be it,” Aiden advised. “Keep trying.” Pacian stepped back and took in the whole picture, looking for something to give him an indication of what he was dealing with. After a long, silent moment, he groaned and slapped himself on the forehead.

  “What is it?” Aiden whispered, tense with expectation.

  “How long has this painting been here, do you think?” Pacian asked the others.

  “I recall coming here as a boy and seeing this painting,” Sir William remarked. “In fact, I believe I read somewhere that it was the first painting to be hung in this gallery.”

  “And it wasn’t always a gallery, right?” Pacian pressed, running the flat of his palm carefully across the canvas.

  “That is correct, though I haven’t the foggiest idea who used to live here prior to the sale of the building.”

  “It’s not who owned it, it’s about what it used to be,” Pacian murmured, his hand settling over the shadow underneath the picture of the throne. He pressed his finger into black spot, and to Aiden’s surprise, a soft ‘click’ could be heard, and the entire wall opened inwards to a stairway leading down into the darkness.

  “A cellar,” Maggie stated ruefully. “I’ll bet this place used to be a winery or some such.”

  “Nice work Pace,” Aiden breathed, peering down into the darkness as his pulse quickened. “You and Ronan move ahead and check it out.” He glanced around and saw the tension building on the faces of his companions as they readied their weapons and checked their gear. Nellise and Sir William both put on their helmets, and when he noticed Sayana enacting her protective magicks, Aiden suddenly remembered the scrolls she had stolen for him. Quickly retrieving them from his scroll cases, he flipped through them in the hopes that something useful lay within.