by Ben Yallop
It was clear that Weewalk and Hadan had not really had much of a plan before. They were used to moving around fairly frequently and spending their time being a general nuisance to the Riven wherever possible. And yet they had let Kya persuade them that they should put themselves into mortal danger for the rescue of Tarak Everune. It seemed like madness to Sam. He could not see the benefit in taking on the Riven to save the drunk, broken man who had once held the secrets of all those that were good and pure. They would be leaving the Tavern the next day. Sam's training was over.
Sam sighed and looked out into the moonlit garden. A light wind rustled the leaves on the trees and bushes, as though the trees were sighing softly. Then something caught his eye. As he looked he realised that a figure was standing motionless in the shadow of a tree looking deeper into the garden. Sam followed its gaze and saw another person there, and another.
‘Weewalk,’ he breathed ‘There are lots of people in the garden.’
The kobold hurriedly blew out the candles and the room fell dark. He hurried over to the window, jumping onto a bed to be high enough to look out.
‘Yeren.’ he said, ‘Lots of them.’
Hadan came to join them and gasped. Something else pushed a bush aside.
‘What's that?’ asked Sam.
‘A nandi.’ said Hadan.’ Where has he come from? And look there, garoul.’
The three of them stood silently at the window watching as an army of their enemies gathered in the darkness below.
Chapter Twelve
By his best reckoning Aleksy had spent a month above ground, tending to the needs of the magicians who lived and worked within the Complex. All the while he had allowed himself to appear cowed. He had dutifully mopped and swept, carried and obeyed, pausing only to sleep, eat or to hang his head whenever the swish of black robes or the echo of voices could be heard in the otherwise still air. Life was infinitely better than it had been in the mines, but still Aleksy was not free and still his anger burnt inside of him.
He had met other captives but the other slaves were reluctant to talk. Many were little more than mindless zombies. Aleksy had seen some whose minds had eventually completely gone. They were taken away and never reappeared.
Rather than cultivate friendships Aleksy had used the time to find his way around the Complex when he could. At first the King's presence in his mind had been quite regular but now, he felt as though he was often free of it or at least that it was different somehow. When he was certain that his brain was his own he tried to build a plan of escape and form a map of the complex in his head. He had found the main entrance but it was always well guarded. He had also been able to pass the door to the throne room, although it had been closed. He could feel the King behind that terrible door, silent and waiting. It was the discovery of this door that had really excited him. If he could get in then he might be able to kill the King or at least hold him hostage in some way. It would throw the entire building into disarray. The King's mind seemed to affect everyone and without that stabilising presence Aleksy was sure he could lose himself in the confusion. It wasn't much of a plan, but he had nothing else to go on and he felt the need to escape with a fierce desperation, like a drowning man fighting for the surface. One day he would gain access to that room, at just the right moment, and slit the King's throat where he sat. He would end this cruel tyranny. But first he needed more information.
Aleksy sat at the long bench where the slaves ate their meals. A dozen or so sat at the table in silence. Although there were no magicians in the room still no-one spoke. Aleksy had tried to strike up a conversation when he had first arrived but whenever he had tried to talk to someone they had looked scared and had moved away without even acknowledging him. They all seemed scared of him. They all seemed scared of everything for that matter. But there was one man who Aleksy thought might speak to him. Aleksy looked over to him now. The man was black and fairly old to Aleksy's eyes. He had grey hair and pockmarked skin on his cheeks, with large bags under his eyes. Whilst everyone else sat with their heads bowed, intent on the thin porridge before them this man sat straighter. His head up, relaxed.
Aleksy picked up his bowl and began to walk over to him, not daring to leave his food behind. He always seemed to feel so hungry, although it always seemed somehow distant. As soon as he moved the others in the room looked uncomfortable and shrank back. They had become wary of Aleksy's attempts at conversation. But the black man looked at Aleksy as he approached and gave a small nod and a smile. Aleksy sat down opposite the man.
For a few minutes neither of them spoke. Then Aleksy steeled himself and whispered.
'My name is Aleksy. You don't seem like the others here and I could do with a friend.'
'Well, friend, my name is Allende. What would you like to discuss?'
'Where are you from?'
'I am sorry but I do not wish to speak about my past. I am here now. That is what is important. That is why I am called 'All End'. I do not discuss the start.''
'Okay. Well, where do you work? Here in the Complex?'
'I work within the throne room. Inside that terrible room, where the crystal whirlwind turns.'
Aleksy felt his heart rate quicken.
'I would like to see inside that room. I want to see the King.' he said.
Allende looked at him carefully. 'It takes magic to open that door but some servants are admitted. I have been here a long time and I have some influence. I could arrange to have you allocated duties that would take you into that room. But why do you wish to go in? Most are only too keen to stay away.'
Aleksy stalled giving himself time to think. 'How would you get me in? Do you, do you speak to the magicians?'
'I do. As I say I have been here a long time.'
'Well. I just want to see the King' said Aleksy. 'He's always here inside my head. I just, I just want to see what the room is like. Then perhaps, perhaps I could ask the King to let me go.'
It sounded weak to Aleksy even as he said it, but he was not ready to trust this man and he could think of nothing else to say.
'I do not think he will let you go. But I will see if I can persuade one of the Riven to allow you access.'
With that the man got up and walked from the room, leaving Aleksy alone with the silent slaves.
An hour before dawn they came. A silent signal saw the yeren rush forward first, heading for the doors and windows. The night had allowed the Tavern residents some time to prepare. Jēran had sent messengers along the lines that led from the interior of the building and a dozen people or so had come to protect the building. Jēran had also apparently positioned others at the entrances to the lines which led into the property. The disadvantage of having so many portals and ways into the building was suddenly stark.
Sam, Weewalk, Hadan, Vallalar, Kya and Hödekin were standing shoulder to shoulder in the room with the giant fireplace when the first wave came. The yeren flung themselves at the building; their spindly arms scrabbled at the windows looking for a way in. Hödekin raised an arm and pointed a hand at one of the latticed windows. It exploded outwards sending flying glass into the face of a yeren who had been scratching fingernails down the pane. The creature fell back howling.
The others all turned to look at Hödekin.
‘They were going to break the windows anyway.’ said Hödekin with a shrug ‘Besides, I hate that noise.’
Two more yeren filled the open window. They all raised their hands at once and hit the creatures with a blast of presence at the same time. The figures flew back from the window with such speed it was as though they’d been pulled away by a jet plane. Sam felt the warmth of power up his spine. He might just be able to enjoy this, he thought, a little of the fear he had felt since first seeing the host in the garden leaving him. But uncertainty settled in again when, not for the first time he heard Weewalk mutter to himself ‘It just doesn't make sense. Why attack here?’
Then the door, which was still locked and barred, was hit by something whi
ch made an almighty crash. Whatever was on the other side seemed to continue the pressure and the wood bowed inwards and began to make loud cracking noises to accompany the growling squeal from whatever monster was behind it. They all focused upon the doorway and as the wood finally gave way and splintered they all sent a blast at whatever was there. There was a roar and before anyone could see what had tried to get in it was gone and the door was empty.
After that the attack intensified and the onset of the invaders was fierce and sustained. Sam saw endless yeren and garoul try to force their way through the windows and doors. It seemed as though hours had passed but still the sun had not risen and Sam realised he had completely lost track of time so intent was he on sending blasts of presence at the attackers. It was an odd attack though, the beasts never really seemed to gain any ground. They would throw themselves at the building but few actually made it inside. Those that did were quickly dealt with by those within. But still the attackers came. Then suddenly realisation dawned on Sam.
‘Weewalk.’ he shouted over the din ‘It's a distraction. They're not trying to get in, just keep us busy!’
At that moment the door behind them flew open with a giant crash and Jēran stumbled into the room. He swayed for a moment and then collapsed, like a tree falling, smashing through a table before landing face down on the floor. Sam could see his hair was matted with blood and as he drew closer he saw the burns on Jēran's huge arms. Sam, Weewalk and Kya all crouched over the giant as he lay unconscious. Then his eyes flickered and the massive man lifted his head to look at Weewalk.
‘Ferus. Cellar.’ he said in a deep voice before losing consciousness again.
Weewalk shouted orders.
‘Kya, you look after Jēran. Sam, with me. Everyone else keep those creatures out of this building.’
He dashed away, Sam hot on his heels. Weewalk called over his shoulder. ‘Sam, you were right. It was a distraction. There must be a line here that Ferus needs to use. The attack was just a way to keep us busy. We must get to the cellar immediately.’
They all but flew along the corridors and through rooms to reach the cellar door. Burns marked the walls and the entire door frame leading to the cellar flickered with fire making the darkness beyond look like a portal to hell. Weewalk didn't pause, running down the stairs as fast as his short legs could carry him, Sam close behind.
After the roar of the battle the cellar was eerily quiet, but the hum of the line was obvious. As quickly as he could Weewalk pulled the line open and he and Sam dashed through.
Sam and Weewalk appeared on a misty, dark and deserted country road, bordered by trees and bushes. They looked around them. There was little light save for the moon above.
‘Keep quiet.’ said Weewalk softly. Then they both heard the sound of a car. Sam looked up as a pair of headlights appeared on the road ahead of them. The car crested the hill and Sam found he was rooted to the spot. Everything happened too quickly. In a second the car was upon them. He had a momentary vision of a man and woman in the front seats as the car hurtled toward him. For the briefest of instants he locked eyes with the man in the driving seat and saw the man's eyebrows lift in shock. Sam stared at his father.
Then time reasserted itself and he felt himself shoved roughly to the side. At the last second he saw his father wrench the wheel, fear etched on his mother's face, and the car began to slide, just clipping his arm with a wing mirror, spinning Sam onto the floor. Then it was past them. The car's wheels seem to catch on something unseen and it suddenly flipped, rolling over and over with a sickening crash that sounded impossibly loud in the still night. The car smashed into a low stone wall and came to rest. Lying on the cold dark tarmac, Sam saw a hot spark drop into the spreading petrol. Flames licked at the car, the petrol tank was alight.
Before Sam could recover, Weewalk was moving to the car. The kobold threw open the back door and quickly reached inside. He emerged a moment later holding a bundle of cloth and dashed away from the burning wreckage. Sam was on his feet then and sprinting towards the car when the force of the explosion lifted him and threw him backwards, smashing him into the middle of the road.
He screamed in despair as a ball of fire rolled up into the tree carrying the souls of his parents with it.
A second later Weewalk was with him, holding him awkwardly as Sam struggled for breath. Hearing a noise Sam looked down and through his tears saw that Weewalk held something. Within the bundle of cloth was a baby. It let out a tiny cry and Sam could see it had a cut to its forearm. Still choking back sobs he lifted his own sleeve to look at the faint scar that puckered his arm, Sam touched the baby carefully. ‘Hello, Sam.’ he said.
Weewalk touched his shoulder gently. ‘We have to go, Sam. You know how this scene goes. Look.’
Sam followed Weewalk's gaze. An indistinct figure dressed in a dark cloak was disappearing across a field. A flashing blue light was approaching along the road. Together Sam and Weewalk struggled to their feet. Weewalk gently laid the crying baby at the side of the road and, taking Sam's arm, steered him back through the line and back into the cellar of the Mermaid Tavern.
Sam saw the hole close and disappear behind them. ‘He killed them’, he whispered to himself. ‘Ferus killed my parents all those years ago. Now I'm going to kill him.’
Sam marched up the stairs into the Tavern. Vallalar, Kya and Hadan all turned in surprise as Sam entered the room behind them, tears still wet on his cheeks. The battle was still raging and the yeren and garoul were still fighting their way into the room. But there, anger and hate coursing through his veins, Sam unleashed his presence. The beasts were flung away by his fury and within moments the battle was over. Those that had survived fled as dawn pinked the horizon.
Aleksy started from sleep. The room was dark, there was no sound other than the soft noises of the other servants sleeping nearby. Without moving his head Aleksy narrowed his eyes, peering into the room. He could see nothing particularly unusual. But then he sensed someone was moving behind him. He rolled quickly onto his back ready to grab whoever it was. A figure loomed over him.
Aleksy was about to lunge forward when he saw it was Allende, the strange dark-skinned man who worked in the throne room. Allende put his finger to his lips and knelt next to Aleksy.
'It is arranged.' he said. 'From tomorrow you will carry out duties within the throne room, in the King's presence. I have organised this for you. I feel there is something different about you Aleksy and I felt that one day someone like you would come, and that things would change. Here is your chance. Do not waste it.'
With that Allende rose and walked softly away, stepping over the other slaves and was gone.
Aleksy lay quietly looking at the ceiling above him. This seemed too good to be true. What did this mean? How had this man made these arrangements? What would the throne room be like? And, most importantly, how would he kill the King?
Two hours later, as they were getting ready to go, Vallalar came to Sam.
‘Samuel,’ he said kindly ‘There is something I wish to show you before you leave.’
Sam was exhausted after the violence and emotion of the night. His ears were still ringing from the noise of it all. His head swam and his spine felt hot and stiff, like a heated metallic bar had replaced the bone. He got up from where he had been staring into space and stumbled after Vallalar through the wreckage and debris of the Tavern.
Much of the damage was only cosmetic. The attackers had never truly breached the defences. They had simply thrown themselves at the building again and again to draw the attention of those within. More worrying were Jēran's injuries but Vallalar had looked him over and done what he could to heal him. Sam had been reassured that he would recover soon enough. He had saved Sam's life by alerting them to Ferus' presence. Sam had only brought destruction to his home. He felt hollow.
Vallalar led Sam to a line in an unoccupied bedroom. The line sat inside a wardrobe so that when one pushed aside the old coats that hung inside and opened
the doorway it was as though the back of the wardrobe disappeared. It felt faintly familiar to Sam as though he had read about it in a book once.
‘Where does this line lead, Vallalar?’ asked Sam.
‘I do not know, although I have been there before. Please, come and see.’
Vallalar ushered Sam though the line and they found themselves in the strangest place Sam had ever seen.
The entire world around them was grey mist. There was no ground beneath their feet, giving Sam the impression that he stood on a sheet of glass within thick cloud. He stared around in amazement. They were in a world where nothing existed.