Ampheus

by Jonathan Forth

Rolden nodded. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I anticipated that you would say that, so that was precisely what I did this morning.”

  The Queen raised her eyebrows. “And what did he see?”

  “He met another rider coming from the direction of Lumines. Our guard believes they are running some sort of communication relay between here and the city. Nothing was handed over; just a verbal discussion so there is no proof of this engagement. I don’t understand the motives.”

  “There appears no reason for Kelton to keep this from us. In fact, to me this is a really effective system of communication. The only plausible motive is that they are preparing for your arrival, which I can understand.”

  The Queen pondered this. “If Lumines is aware of our intentions, why are they not coming? We could already be discussing the engagement of its armies and support for the King. I fear that Ambassador Kelton’s delaying tactics and unspoken lines of communication to Lumines should be a cause for concern or at least we should be wary.”

  Rolden thought. “Though I cannot explain their behaviour, it concerns me. We are five days from Lumines and I’d like to find out what we are walking into.”

  The Queen sat back, taking this all in and considering her options. “Well, Ambassador Kelton is playing his cards close to his chest. There is no reason why we should not try and tip the balance in our favour. I have an old friend, one that I would trust with my life. Lady Amice is from Terramis but married an Aquamuran merchant. While he passed away a few years back she is still very well connected and trustworthy, and she may be able to shed some light on this.

  “She lives in a spacious villa to the south of Lumines. I suggest we send one of the guards there. Give him two horses so he can press on without resting. Keep it quiet and let him slip away after dusk.”

  The Queen reached for a quill and parchment and began writing. Once she had finished she dripped wax on the opening and pressed down on it with the Queen’s personal stamp. “God speed to your man; let us hope our fears are unfounded.”

  *

  Gulden was putting distance between the Janshai and himself. The pain in his chest at leaving his fellow knights was too much to bear. He felt it tear him apart from the outside, stride by stride. But he rode on, knowing that to fail would mean their sacrifice would be worth nothing.

  He headed east, switching between the two horses every hour or so, letting them rest briefly at a stream to drink or at a patch of grass to eat. He quenched his own thirst beside them. He had nothing to eat, himself.

  He did not dare to eat the few berries he spotted along the way. He did not know enough about them to risk poisoning himself. He reasoned it would take perhaps three days riding non-stop to Celestina so he would have to suffer. He could eat all he wanted when he got there. He simply must not fail.

  He pressed on alone. As night fell he could see nothing, just the solitude of the wide open space around him, so far from home. He did not know whether the Janshai were tracking him and he did not know whether the gargoyles continued their pursuit above him. He kept his head down and kept riding following the eastern star. Somehow, just moving made him feel safer. Perhaps he was putting more and more distance between him and his foes. He urged on the horses, which were tiring as the night wore on and his own body was sore and battered.

  His eyes felt heavy, as they momentarily shut from exhaustion. He cursed himself and forced them open once again. The horses, without him driving them forward, had dropped to walking pace. How could he have been so weak when everything was dependent on him?

  He checked the sky to assess the location of the sun. It still hovered above the horizon. He may not have lost that much time. He took his knife and slashed a cut deep into each of the palms of his hands. He winced under the pain but took up the reins and rode.

  Every pull on the horse tore at the edges of the wounds. Sweat stung the open flesh and the pain grew in his hands. He felt better. It was a punishment for falling asleep but the pain would also keep him awake.

  When they approached the next stream he let the horses drink. He buried his head in the freezing waters and poured some down the back of his neck. It chilled him. He took a sharp intake of breath and it revived him again. He mounted his horse and urged it on.

  Gulden could make out the shadows of the rocks on moors that seemed like guards at the border of Celestina. It was perhaps another half-day’s ride there. Then another day and a half to Celestina itself. He kicked Sky Bound on and she galloped over the rocks.

  Without warning she stepped on a stone. Under his weight, her ankle turned, twisted and snapped and Sky Bound pitched forward, throwing him down to the ground. He instinctively rounded his body and buried his head in his hands to protect himself. Gulden tumbled over the dirt kicking up dust, and as he rolled his temple smashed against a rock. He felt a sharp stab of pain and then darkness filled his eyes as he lost consciousness.

  When he came round his head throbbed. He touched it and felt the sticky smear of blood in his hair. He was a little disorientated and when he pulled himself up he staggered as his legs, still shaky, struggled to hold his weight. Sky Bound lay a few feet away from him. She raised her head and tried to stand but snorted in pain as she tried to put weight on her broken ankle. He unsheathed his sword.

  “Thank you, my friend, but you have done enough,” and he stuck his blade through the horse’s jugular. He held her head in his arms as her life ebbed away.

  He surveyed the area around, relieved to find ‘Star Chaser’ was still a few yards away. He staggered towards her, but the horse saw him, whinnied and skirted further away from him, still spooked by the fall. He approached her gently, talking softly to her, trying to put Star Chaser at ease.

  He saw something moving at the corner of his vision. His heart sank as he saw three dark shapes coming towards them. He turned in slow motion so that they were behind the horse, he did not want the sight of the dark angels to spook her further.

  If she shied and ran he would be left helpless to face them. He held up his hands. “Shsssh, shsssh,” and took a step tentatively towards the horse. Two yards, one yard. Then one of the dark angels screeched.

  The charger’s eyes immediately flared and it bucked its head back in fear, shied and bolted to the left.

  Gulden screamed, “Noooo!” lunging for the reins. He grasped them but they slipped through his bloody fingers. In the final act of a desperate man, the loop caught in his hand. The power of Star Chaser as it bolted pulled him from his feet.

  He tumbled to the ground and was dragged by the mare, his knees and feet grinding on the rocks beneath him. He held on and managed to gain his footing and stood and pulled the horse’s head towards him.

  She fought back, bucking, but he held her tight and still, looking into the mare’s eyes said, “You want to live, trust me Star Chaser and I vow to you I will get us both out of here.”

  Gulden tossed the reins over the horse’s head and in one movement threw himself on the mare’s back. “Yeahh!” He kicked the horse and its powerful hind legs launched them forwards as Gulden urged the mare with his hands on the reins. Driven by fear, Star Chaser galloped onwards, the dark angels no more than thirty yards behind. He could hear them screeching with frustration driven by fear. Not fear of him, but fear of Gorath’s retribution if Gulden escaped.

  *

  It was past midnight and the castle was as dark as pitch, apart from the flickering torches and the ghost-like shimmering patterns they cast upon the castle walls. Every now and then you could hear a dog barking, disturbed by another sound in the night. Or the calls of the guards as they routinely checked in between the watchtowers. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, well almost.

  A shady figure crept along the castle’s streets, clinging to the shadows, avoiding the light of the torches. He wore a cloak hung low over his head, covering his features and making him unrecognisable. He came to
a small temporary armoury that housed emergency weapons.

  Weapons were stored here in case the castle was breached and the guards were retreating and needed to restock. He reached under his cloak and pulled out a small vial, removed the lid and poured it over and into the lock.

  Very gingerly he tried to turn the handle coaxing the oil into its working guts. Seemingly satisfied that the lubricant was working, he silently turned the handle. He opened the door and stepped inside. He knew what he was looking for and quickly grasped a bow and two arrows and tucked them away under his cloak.

  He made his way back outside and skirted further down an alleyway to the battlements. While Gorath’s army camped outside, they were perhaps not an immediate threat. He knew there was comparatively light security at night, as it was most uncommon for anyone to fight when they can see bugger all. It was highly probable that the guards would be sleeping or having a dalliance somewhere. The shadow knew the particular guard on this section of the battlements. His reputation was that of a heavy drinker, and hence a heavy sleeper while on sentry.

  He covertly made his way up the steps to the battlements, but could not see or hear anything, which was a positive sign. He wore soft padded boots that made almost no sound at all. The loudest noise he could hear was the throbbing of his own blood in his ears as his heart beat faster.

  He found a spot dimmed from the lights and placed the bow and two arrows he had purloined in front of him. He removed two scrolls from his pockets, his fingers shaking from the urgency to finish and make his escape undiscovered back to his quarters. He wrapped them round the arrows and then lashed them there with thread.

  Corporal Kaston had a long evening in the ‘Haddock and Winkle’. It was his birthday and so he was well within his rights to celebrate, particularly as everyone was happy to buy him a beer. He called it a day after he had fallen off the table where he was doing a jig and decided to head back to his sentry position to catch some more sleep.

  Kaston farted loudly and the noise woke him up. He was still sitting on the privy and had fallen asleep again, and not for the first time. He could sense his legs tingling, which suggested to him that he had been asleep sitting like this for a while.

  He slapped them back into action, pulled up his britches and staggered out of the closet. He was engrossed in tying his belt. It was not easy given the girth of his stomach, and so he almost had to reach around and under his belly to fasten it. This was not helped by the fact he also carried his pike under his arm.

  He did not notice the figure crouched down in front of him before he was almost on top of him. They both leapt back in surprise.

  “What the…?” The shadow hesitated a second, contemplating what to do. He shrugged as he made a decision and pulled a blade from his belt, then plunged it into Corporal Kaston’s chest. They say your life passes by you as you prepare to die.

  The only thoughts going through Corporal Kaston’s head were, Well, I did not see that coming and bugger, my trousers have fallen down. He went from stone-cold drunk to stone-cold dead before he hit the ground.

  The shadow panicked and tried to pull Kaston’s vast mass over the battlements and into the lake. It was futile as the body was far too heavy to lift. The shadow cursed under his breath and abandoned the body where it lay.

  He went back to the bow, picked up the arrows and fired them both in the direction of Gorath’s camp. He dropped the bow, figuring it would only bring attention to him as he retraced his steps back to his quarters. Frankly, the bow was a small detail when it lay next to a rather rotund dead body with a gaping hole in his chest. He quickly turned and made his way back the way he came.

  *

  The body had been discovered at dawn, and now Logar knelt with the King next to the corpse.

  “Caught with his trousers down, literally,” said Logar.

  “So, what do you make of it?” said the King. “You know that the majority of murders are committed in a drunken fight over something trivial, or a rival for love.”

  “You think this of the heart?” asked Logar.

  “Ahhh, I think I wish it were but unfortunately I suspect he disturbed someone up to some form of skulduggery, who then murdered him. Given the bow I think that someone from the castle may have been sending a message to Gorath.”

  “I fear you may be right,” said Logar. “There are spies among us, but their options for contact remain limited. My concern is that if it is a sole operator just feeding information, then I can’t see them causing much damage. If it is a larger group, who knows? What could the message have been? What was so important that a spy would murder for it to be delivered?”

  The King stood with Logar on the battlements and surveyed the camp below. He hypothesised, “What is it you have been told, Gorath? And what will you do next?”

  Just as the King spoke, a single soldier rode down from Gorath’s camp and planted a red standard in the ground. The King turned to his Captain of the Guard. “We may never find out what the message was but it appears like our spy has got his answer.”

  “I will double the guard on the battlements and ban them from drinking any more ale. It will put a strain on the men’s morale but with Kaston’s murder they will accept it. I will also start an investigation. Someone may have seen something that might give us a clue as to the identity of the murderer.

  “We will question the guards from last night and anyone else who may have been up at that time and find out if they saw anything suspicious. We’ll check whether the bow leads us anywhere but it’s standard issue so I think it will be a dead end.”

  “It is a logical approach but let’s meet a bit later with Sumnar. Let’s come up with a plan to flush out this spy.”

  The spy peered out of his granite window at Gorath’s camp and saw the answer to his proposal. Excellent, the plan is in motion. His plan. His moment to bring the King and his confidantes to their knees. He never felt accepted; never felt his opinion was respected; they never listened to him; always ignored him; well, now they will all pay, all pay with their lives.

  *

  Gorath’s general brought the two arrows to him in the morning. “Finally,” he said, “word from our fox.”

  Gorath nodded, took the arrows and unfolded the messages, which were identical. ‘Just prior to dawn on the next new moon, the drawbridge will be lowered and the portcullis raised. Have the men ready, the castle will be ours. Plant a red standard in the ground if the plan meets with my lord’s approval.’

  “It is a clever plan. It will be darker under the new moon, providing cover to our preparations, and to the fox.”

  “How many days to the next full moon?” asked Gorath.

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Well, patience is a virtue, and if I am at least to have one virtue, it might as well be patience. Especially when the prize is so close at hand.”

  “So,” said Gorath, thinking out loud to himself. “There you are, a King holed up in your castle and letting your enemy exhaust himself besieging you. Knowing that relief forces may be on their way. You could run or wait for the right moment to counter-attack the besiegers and lift the siege. However, you are not going to do that because there you are, feeling all cosy and warm inside your castle.

  “You know your enemy has to lay siege to the castle. So, on the bright side, Armanar keeps his forces all bottled up; we don’t have to deal with any retaliation or raids at all. We can sit back and relax, until… ”

  “Until?” asked his general.

  “Until we are ready to widen a crack in his defences, take the castle and kill the King and his minions in one fell swoop. Like gutting pigs in a sty. In the meantime we can pursue other military objectives at our leisure without his interference.”

  *

  The King, Sumnar and Logar sat around a table. “So,” said Armanar, “what did the message say?” Logar thought out loud. “Let�
�s assume the spy only knows what we know. Possibly reinforcements are on the way and Aron may succeed in bringing Saturnus to the fray.

  “Let’s think through the scenarios of what the message was.”

  “What is your favourite colour?” Sumnar suggested unhelpfully. “Fine, fine, let’s discount that one.”

  Logar tutted. “You get less and less sensible with age; I can’t believe I used to listen to your every word.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “Perhaps the message was the castle is well defended, supplied and organised, and the King is expecting reinforcements; the siege will likely fail so better hop off home.”

  “Right, but no need for the red standard, they would have just packed up and left,” said Sumnar.

  “The castle is well defended, supplied and organised, and the King is expecting reinforcements; the siege will likely fail unless you hit them hard and fast.”

  “Again, no need for the red standard, they would simply accelerate building their siege weapons and possibly filling in the lake. We are not seeing that type of activity, and it would still take weeks to mobilise,” said Sumnar.

  “I have a way in, a way around the defences. I’ll open it up to your men at a certain time and place. The red standard could be an agreement or confirmation.”

  “It is plausible and perhaps we have to anticipate a worst-case scenario. If the castle is lost and overrun by Gorath’s men, what are the crucial objectives we need to deal with?”

  “The totem,” said Logar.

  “The key to Dryw Henge,” said the King.

  “We must have a plan to distance them from the castle safely at a moment’s notice.”

  “A counter-attack to enable a small group of cavalry to escape?”

  “It is an option and perhaps the most obvious solution. Gorath will be expecting that and will be ready, so they may not get very far.” They reflected in silence for a few moments.

  “The catacombs,” said Sumnar. “It is said there is a way out through them.”

  “It is a rumour, although it has never been proven,” said Logar.