by Michael Karr
A fierce cry rose up from the soldiers, yanking Rolander’s attention back into the fight. The soldier larger came down on top of the first. Each had his knife hand gripped by the other’s free hand. But the knife blade of the larger soldier hovered just centimeters away from the other soldier’s chest and moving slowly closer. Rolander could see the panic in the other soldier’s eyes.
It was now or never. He must act. Swallowing down his fear, Rolander bolted for the door. His strides felt shaky, like running on undulating ground. But he managed to keep his legs under him. Before he even made it to the threshold, a strained shout came from behind.
“Look! The scamp’s getting away.”
The soldier with the knife about to plunge into his chest, realizing his life was about to end, sought for a way to distract his assailant. Rolander had provided that distraction, just in time. Rolander cursed himself for not leaving sooner.
“Stop!” cried the other soldier.
But Rolander couldn’t stop, mostly for fear of what the soldiers would do to him if they caught him. He attained the corridor, turning in the direction of Krom’s chamber. He was running as fast as he could, yet he seemed to barely move. Why wouldn’t his legs move faster? Had the distance to Krom’s chamber increased?
The sound of running told him he had a pursuer. Another moment, a fierce hand gripped the back of his neck and jerked him to a halt.
“Where do you think you’re running off to?” spat the soldier, who undoubtedly owed Rolander his life.
Rolander made no reply as the soldier hauled him back into the chamber. He hoped perhaps the soldier might spare him, as repayment.
“She’s waking up,” reported the other soldier.
“So? Tie a gag around her mouth and bind her hands to the bedpost.”
“And when she informs the commander of what we did?”
The soldier gripping Rolander’s neck pushed Rolander onto the floor.
“He’ll congratulate us.”
The other shook his head contemptuously.
“Don’t be a fool. Commander Alkrov doesn’t put up with lack of discipline among his ranks. He ordered us to bring her to him, not have our way with her first.”
“You’re just a coward,” sneered the other soldier, taking a few strides toward the bed. “I’ll have her if you’re too scared.”
“The devil you will!”
In a flash, the daggers were out again. This time, the fight only lasted a blink of the eye, as the suddenly-virtuous soldier sunk his blade into his comrade’s gut. With a sharp gasp, the soldier fell to the floor in his own blood.
Rolander stared at the body in horror. He’d just witnessed a murder. Never mind that there were piles of bodies lining the corridors of the castle. Seeing the deed done—he felt as if the soldier had stabbed the dagger into his own stomach.
The queen mother stirred on her bed. The remaining soldier walked over to her bedside. Instinctively, Rolander’s insides tightened. The soldier, however, did not touch her.
“Oi, time to wake up!” he said loudly.
She winced and let out a groan of pain.
“Up!” the soldier ordered, prodding her leg with the end of his blaster.
If he couldn’t desecrate her, the soldier seemed determined to deal with his bitterness by treating her as rudely as possible. Rolander bristled but did not speak. Coarse treatment was infinitely preferable to the alternative, which she had unwittingly avoided.
Her eyelids batted at the unwelcome light.
“Up, I said!” the soldier grabbed her arm and snatched her off the bed.
With a shriek, she tumbled onto all fours, her auburn hair cascading forward to cover her face. Rolander rushed to her aid.
“What is going on?” she said in a trembling voice.
“It’s alright,” was all Rolander could think to say. He reached out his hand. “Here, let me help you up.” Adding in a whisper, “for your safety, do as he tells you.”
She slowly lifted her head, her nose parting the curtain of hair shrouding her pale face. Without argument, the queen mother took Rolander’s left hand and rose to her feet.
“Can you walk?” said Rolander.
“I believe so.”
Rolander provided his arm for her to hold on to. It was obvious that the effects of the sedation drug—whatever it was—were still wearing off.
The soldier ordered them to move on, and for Rolander to lead the way to Krom’s quarters. They found Krom awake, sitting in his armchair, staring vacantly at the wall. Not until the soldier growled at him to get up and shoved a blaster in his face did Krom register their presence. Krom didn’t protest or even act surprised. He merely stood and followed the soldier’s orders, his expression still blank.
Rolander had hoped Krom would be ready to fight, to ambush the unfortunate soul who dared to break into his chamber by bending a fireplace poker over his head. The sedative was evidently stronger than Rolander believed.
They found Commander Alkrov in one of the more intimate counsel chambers, where Krom often met with his closest advisors to discuss the most delicate matters of state. Jonobar was nearby. The pair were consulting charts laid out at one end of the large oblong table filling most of the chamber. A few minutes passed with Rolander, Krom, Skylar’s mother, and the soldier standing at the opposite end of the table before the commander acknowledged them.
“Where is McLoyd?” the commander asked, at last.
“Dead, sir,” replied the soldier, stiffly.
The commander raised an eyebrow.
“You met resistance from two comatose hostages, did you?”
“No, sir,” replied the soldier, his voice betraying an edge of distress. “He tried to…rape her, sir.”
“And you thought it your duty to shoot one of my men?”
“I thought it my duty to fulfill your orders and bring the woman directly to you.”
The commander considered the soldier with a sour expression. Rolander noted that the soldier failed to mention his own intentions to play party to the offense against Skylar’s mother. Minor omission.
“I will investigate into this later,” replied the commander. “For now, you are dismissed.”
The soldier snapped to attention, then turned and marched out of the council chamber. Skylar’s mother still held onto Rolander’s arm. If the force of his grip provided any indication, her strength was improving. Would Krom break out of his daze too? Maybe he could provide the key to unlocking the mystery of all that had happened.
“I apologize—Lady Lancewright,” said Commander Alkrov. “That is what you are called, is it not? I apologize if they have harmed you in any way.” The commander spoke politely. Yet Rolander sensed a hint of venom in his voice.
“I am unharmed,” she replied weakly. “I do wish to know who you are, and what you think you are doing.”
“I beg your pardon.” He gave a mock bow. “I am Commander Alkrov, of her majesty’s royal army. And I’m here because my men have overtaken your castle.”
The commander smiled wryly.
“Her majesty?”
“The empress of the Tor Nation,” interjected Krom, suddenly spring to life next to Rolander. “I knew we had a traitor in our midst.”
He pointed a hard finger right a Jonobar.
“You’ve brought this evil upon us.”
Professor Jonobar? A traitor?
Such an idea defied all possibility in Rolander’s mind. There was nothing treacherous about his tutor. Jonobar’s behavior of the last few hours was certainly odd. A logical explanation was forthcoming, of that he felt confident.
Jonobar unclasped his hands and gave a slight nod of his head in assent.
“Do not blame yourself, Regent Krometheus Phynx,” said Jonobar. “You did the best you could. Though, I’m surprised you did not recognize me. We’re old friends.”
Rolander looked up at Krom in bewilderment. But Krom showed no si
gn that he recognized Jonobar as anyone but a castle tutor.
“Come now,” said Jonobar, seeing Krom’s confusion, “My appearance has not been altered so drastically. Perhaps, my little friends, the Trackers will give you a clue.”
At the mention of the Trackers, a low snarl seeped through Krom’s clenched teeth.
“Morvath!”
Thirty
“Well, I’m certainly glad we went through so much pain to find her.”
Skylar let Endrick’s comment pass. Truth be told, it wasn’t too far from his own sentiments. Could that…cold-blooded killer, the Princess of Gorgoroth, truly be his sister? Had they come all this way, suffered so dearly, only to discover that his long-lost sister was lost beyond recovery? That though alive, she could never be restored as his sister—never wish to. Finding her dead would have been a boon compared with such a fate.
The servant girl, whom the princess also trapped in Du Kava’s quarters, crouched in the corner, weeping softly. Was she afraid that the empress would have her put to death, as well? Skylar felt a pang of guilt for bringing this upon the girl.
“I’d like to have a good last meal before I die,” said Endrick, walking over to the far end of the room. “Somehow I don’t think your charming sister is going to allow that.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find anything to eat in here, Endrick”
Endrick began pulling out the cord from within the depths of his cloak.
“That’s why I intend to leave. I know how attached you’ve grown to your sister, but I suggest you come, too.”
Skylar had entirely forgotten about the ropes and grappling hooks. His state of shock over the revelation about his sister robbed him of the wherewithal to even consider escaping.
“Take me with you?” sniffed the servant girl from her corner.
Endrick looked at the girl as if she’d just requested them to conjure up a fleet of jetwings from nothing.
“She’ll kill me if you don’t!” cried the girl. “I know she will.”
Endrick threw his hands into the air.
“Fine,” he relented. “But you’ll have to climb down the rope on your own.”
Skylar dug out the cord from his own cloak and affixed one end of it to the retractable grappling hook. Endrick moved over to the chamber’s only window—almost small enough to be a porthole. With a heavy grating, the barred window slowly swung open under Endrick’s force. A gush of cool, solid air filled the room. After securing his grappling hook to the inside wall, Endrick proceeded to squeeze himself through the undersized aperture of the window.
“Great Yurik! Who designed these pea-sized windows?”
Eventually, Endrick succeeded in extruding his bulk through the window. Skylar turned toward the servant girl.
“Will you be alright getting down?” he asked. The girl let out a shiver that Skylar thought was meant to be a shrug.
“Just wrap your legs tightly around the rope and let yourself down slowly. Keep them wound around the rope and you won’t fall.”
Moving over to the window, Skylar secured his own grappling hook before dropping the end of the cord, taking care that the coil did not collide with Endrick who was working his way down the side of the castle. Then he crammed himself into the window frame before gradually letting himself down through the opening. Once free of the window, he planted his boots against the stone wall, leaned back, and started his descent. Already the rope felt hot in his hands. He wished they had thought to buy gloves. He thought about the servant girl coming down. Even if she could make it down, how long would it take her?
Without warning, a sharp clank came from somewhere below him. He twisted his neck to try and see the source of the sound. Endrick was still below him, also looking down. Refocusing his gaze, Skylar saw two figures far below. Despite the darkness, there was enough torchlight that he could make out who they were.
“I don’t believe it!” cried Endrick. “Are those two the numbskulls we gave to the mead to? And now they’re shooting bolts at us!”
Another of the bolts sang as it grazed off the stone a few centimeters from Endrick’s nose.
“Great Yurik! I’d hate to find out how well they shoot when they’re not drunk. Go back. Go back.”
There was no time to deliberate. And they had no means of defending themselves. Skylar began climbing back up toward the window.
Just as he did, he saw a single foot and the hem of a skirt dangle from the window as the servant girl started to climb down.
“Stop!” shouted Skylar. “Go back inside.”
But the girl didn’t respond. Either his voice couldn’t reach her or she was too consumed by the of climbing to hear.
“This is why we shouldn’t have let her come,” huffed Endrick, “She’ll get us all killed.”
It was true. With the girl blocking the way, neither of them could get back in. A third bolt grazed Skylar’s boot.
“Go back inside!” shouted Skylar again.
No response. The lower half of her fully out her legs coiled around the cord like a snake. Skylar was just underneath her now. If he could have used both hands and had a ledge to stand on, he would have pushed her back through.
The next instant, one of the girl’s feet was in his face, pressing hard against his cheek. She tapped it several times, as if testing it as a foothold. When he jerked his head to the side and her foot lost its hold on his nose, she looked down.
“Go back!” he shouted. “If you can,” he added under his breath.
This time, the girl got the message. She started trying to climb back up. All she managed to do, however, flail her legs as they slipped off the wall. Skylar groaned.
“Use my head,” he shouted, pulling himself up a little and putting his head directly beneath her.
The girl didn’t hesitate. Planting the ball of her foot on the crown of his head, she pushed up with a force that sent him rocking backward. He shook his head as the rope swung him back to the wall. By the time he’d recovered from having his head used as a launch pad, the girl was no longer dangling from the window. In another few seconds, so was he. As soon as he was back inside the chamber, he turned to help pull Endrick back through.
“Remind me to say something nasty to those guards before we’re executed,” said Endrick, as he plopped through the window onto the floor.
“There’s not going to be an execution,” replied Skylar.
He was already halfway across the room, scanning the wall of weapons. He found just the implement he needed. A heavy-bladed axe atop a long handle. He stole it from its place on the wall. Testing its weight in his hand, he walked over and positioned himself in front of the door. With a broad swing of the axe, he buried the blade into the wooden door. Frustrated that he didn’t cleave a chunk out of the door, he jerked the blade free and prepared to swing again. On the next swing, he only succeeded in lodging the blade deeper into the wood.
“What are you trying to do, get the blade stuck?” said Endrick from behind. “That’s not the way to do it at all. Let me show you.”
Shouldering Skylar aside, Endrick took the axe from him, then proceeded to hack away at the door. Chips of wood started flying in all directions. Within no time, a ragged crater appeared in the middle of the door. With each stroke of the axe blade, the crater grew deeper. Skylar clinched his fists, wondering if they would be too late.
The next strike from Endrick’s axe produced a loud splitting sound. Endrick twisted the blade while it was still embedded in the wood. More cracking. A sliver of a hole appeared. Endrick took several more swings, widening the hole with each blow.
“There,” exhaled Endrick, stepped away from the fist-sized hole. “See if you can reach your mouse arm through that and unlock the door.”
Endrick’s face was wet with sweat from the exertion. He propped himself against the wall and mopped his brow with the cuff of his cloak. Shedding his own cloak to reduce the bulk of his arm, Skylar stuck
his hand through the hole. The hole proved to be tighter than he expected. Still, he managed to push through past his elbow. He groped blinding with his hand, trying to find a latch or a key to open the door from the outside. He located the latch, but it won’t open. He felt around some more, but it was useless.
“It won’t open. And I can’t find a key,” he said, sinking back into the room.
“Better start gnawing on the wood then,” said Endrick.
But Skylar only partially heard what Endrick said. For another sound immediately seized his full attention. The sound was difficult to make out. He hushed Endrick and listened.
Jerking away from the door, he shouted, “Keep chopping. Someone’s coming up the stairs.”
Without question, Endrick attacked the door with renewed energy. Beyond Skylar’s hope, the hole rapidly widened, as large chunks of wood broke away under Endrick’s barrage. Was it fast enough?
Skylar turned to the wall and grabbed the first ballistic weapon he could find. He readily found one. A crossbow, loaded with dual bolts. He was not going to surrender without a fight. Especially with Endrick’s life at stake.
“The skin-and-bone lot can probably squeeze through now,” panted Endrick, staggering away from the door.
A narrow slit now replaced the hole. Skylar thought he could make it through if he angled body just so. Endrick though…there was no way he could get through that hole.
“What about you?” Skylar protested.
“You’re going to lead them away from me so that I can away safely,” replied Endrick. “Now go before you spoil my plan.”
Skylar didn’t believe Endrick for a second. But they didn’t have time to stand around and argue. He knew Endrick well enough. He wasn’t going to hack anymore more until Skylar went through the hole. Signaling to the servant girl to follow, Skylar tossed the crossbow through the hole, then crawled through himself.
On the other side, he retrieved the crossbow and readied himself by crouching on one knee and aiming the weapon down the hall, in the direction of the stairwell entrance. He heard footsteps coming up those stairs. Heavy, armored footsteps—multiple sets of them. How many, though? To hit any of them would be lucky. He’d never used such a weapon before. To hit two of them in one shot, that would necessitate a miracle. Which was exactly what he needed. He had no idea how long it would take him to reload. Just long enough for the guards to shoot a couple bolts into his chest.