Gorgoroth (Haladras Trilogy Book 2)

by Michael Karr

  “Morvath, at your service.”

  “Then you’ve lied to me this whole time, deceived me,” said Rolander, anger rising in his throat. “Those weren’t tea leaves you had me smuggle into the castle, were they? They were the Trackers that killed everyone!”

  Jonobar did not reel at Rolander’s harsh accusations. He stood as calm as ever, patiently waiting for Rolander to finish.

  “You knew they weren’t tea leaves when you brought that box into the castle, Rolander. You didn’t know what it contained. Only that it wasn’t tea leaves. Your intelligence wouldn’t allow you to fully accept that fabricated story of mine. Would it?”

  Jonobar went on before Rolander could answer.

  “You have right to feel ire toward me. With trust, you performed a favor for me. With trust, you permitted me to be your tutor…and, I believe, your friend. I betrayed that trust, knowingly. Yet, I did not do it out of malice, spite, or with disregard for your feelings. I did it to protect you. Suppose you had been caught bringing a chest full of Trackers into the castle. A chest you knew contained Trackers. You would not have been able to honestly claimed innocence.

  “You were safer remaining ignorant of the truth, completely absolved from any wrongdoing against the empire. Had you known I was Morvath, could you have helped but reveal my identity to the regent? You would have never trusted me, never had the chance to gain the knowledge that you did. Look at what you’ve created, Rolander!”

  Jonobar held out his hands to the mechanical prosthesis.

  “No one else could have helped you to create such a device. Together, we will complete it. All you must do is join me.”

  “Join you?” replied Rolander.

  “I did not lie when I told you that you have a gift. Your talent and intellect will be of great service to me. Together, we shall achieve great things, Rolander.”

  Jonobar paused. Rolander looked down at the mechanical hand. He didn’t know what to say. All of him wanted to trust Jonobar. He was the enemy though. Morvath—high traitor to the empire. Though he knew this to be true, its import in his mind felt significantly less than what he believed it ought to. It surprised him.

  “You’ll need time to consider my offer,” said Jonobar after a few moments. “You’ve never failed to please me, Rolander. I don’t expect your answer in this regard to do any less. I’ll leave you in peace for now.”

  So saying, Jonobar spun around and made for the door. Rolander noted a smoothness in his gait which he’d never noticed before. Jonobar seemed to float across the floor.

  Before shutting the door of Rolander’s bedchamber, Jonobar issued one final comment.

  “I would ask you to consider who it is that took your life away. And who it was that gave it back to you.”

  Then he closed and locked the bedchamber door.

  * * *

  The order had been given earlier that morning. All outbound private and commercial vessels were grounded. No explanation as to why. Skylar knew perfectly well why. He didn’t want to admit it to himself or aloud. Though, he suspected the others knew it, as well. There was too high a correlation to be mere coincidence. He suspected that they would find the city gates equally guarded.

  He and Endrick may have escaped the castle with their lives. But there were still equally trapped.

  Wishing to avoid attention from the guards at the port gates, the companions left before the crowd of disgruntled passengers and ship owners could disperse. They had nowhere to turn to. So, they made their way back to the only safe place they knew in that entire city. Wenna would gladly receive them again. But Skylar grieved to think of putting the empress’ hounds on the old widow’s scent. Especially with Icca in her care.

  Near the rundown district where Wenna lived, a detachment of soldiers clattered by. They marched in a loose file down a street intersecting the one the companions were on. Endrick, leading, pulled off to the side and stopped behind a pile of rubble. They watched and waited as the line of soldiers passed. As they stood there, an idea came to Skylar.

  “Let’s follow them,” he said, once the soldiers had passed.

  “Great idea,” said Endrick. “Maybe they’ll give us a ride on one of their ships. Maybe even a nice dungeon to sleep in, or comfy nooses to wear about our necks.”

  “I’m serious. The general’s letter mentioned assembled soldiers and ships. There must be an encampment somewhere nearby. I want to see it. Those soldiers may lead us to it.”

  “They’ll lead us to our deaths.”

  “I agree,” said Grüny. “You’re only asking for trouble. Stay away from any soldiers. You and Endrick are wanted men.”

  “We’ll stay out of sight,” said Skylar. “I need to see that field, though. I’ll go alone if I need to. We can meet back at Wenna’s.”

  Not waiting for a reply, Skylar broke away from the group and rushed to the street corner to spy on where the soldiers had gone. He soon found himself joined by the others, Endrick grumbling beneath his breath.

  The companions stalked the soldiers for nearly half-an-hour. Mostly they walked through an old industrial area, full of abandoned warehouses. It seemed they would never arrive anywhere interesting. Were the soldiers merely performing a training exercise? Skylar was just about to succumb to Endrick’s griping, when a city wall came into view. Up ahead, the line of soldiers funneled through a gate, flanked by several guards. Skylar diverted their group down the nearest side street.

  “Well, that was a fun jaunt around a lovely part of the city,” said Endrick. “We found a well-guarded wall. Now, can we go back?”

  “Not until I have a look over that wall,” replied Skylar.

  “Fine. We’ll throw you over.”Skylar struck off down a side street, away from the main avenue, deeper among the cluster of dilapidated buildings. Not knowing exactly where to go, he crossed down alleyways and narrow lanes, gradually moving in the general direction of the wall. Once he believed they were near enough, Skylar located an old warehouse, which stood taller than the surrounding structures.

  The outer doors of the warehouse hung crooked on their hinges. With a shove, he tested one of the doors. Squealing, the bottom corner swung ajar, producing a gap wide enough for him to squeeze through.

  “I’m going upstairs see if I can get a better look from one of those windows.”

  He pointed to the upper level of the building, where broken windows stared outward.

  “What!” cried Endrick. “You expect Grüny and me to fit through that mouse hole?”

  “Stay here,” replied Skylar. “Watch for trouble. I won’t be gone long.”

  So saying, he slipped through the gap in the door. Inside, he stood a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the relative darkness. Above him, shafts of light filtered down into a large empty space and glinted off the dust-filled air. On the opposite end of the warehouse, he spotted a platform higher up, and a staircase running up to it along the back wall. Taking care where he stepped, he made his way over to it.

  Suddenly, a crash erupted behind him. Jerking around, Skylar found one of the doors lying on the floor and Endrick standing just inside the threshold.

  “I’m not fixing that,” said Endrick, stomping toward Skylar.

  Skylar shook his head, turned, and started moving back toward the stairwell. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed on his lips. He was always glad to have Endrick as his bodyguard.

  The pair traversed the length of the warehouse floor without incident and climbed the stairs. At the top, they stepped onto the platform. Except for a few compact office units, the platform was bare. Even a few floor panels were missing. Skylar held onto the railing as he walked to the west-facing windows. Skylar wiped away the thick coating of dust from one of the windows with the cuff of his cloak. Squinting, he peered through it.

  The warehouse windows did indeed command a view over the city’s outer wall. What he saw was more unsettling than anything he’d imagined. Everywhere he c
ould see there were ranks of soldiers, lines of tents, and the largest fleet of ships he’d ever seen in one place.

  Thirty-three

  “He got away! The crowned prince of Ahlderon was in your grasp and you let him get away!”

  The empress rose to her feet and glared at the princess, her eyes aflame, her teeth bared. Her honed fingernails, like the claws of a tigress, dug into the surface of her desk.

  Inside, the princess flinched at her mother’s wrath. On the outside, she held her composure and stared defiantly back into those terrible eyes.

  “I couldn’t imprison both of them by myself,” said the princess, fighting to bolster her voice with confidence. “So, I locked them in Rizain’s quarters and sent for the guards. They are the ones who let them get away.”

  The empress’ face screwed up as if a bile taste had suddenly filled her mouth.

  “Do not cast your failings on the shoulders of another. Why on a black sun did you not dispatch the both of them out of hand? You cannot make me believe these two Ahlderion’s—one a mere boy—were too much for you to handle.”

  The princess scoffed, her pride rushing in to reignite her confidence. She lifted her chin as she responded.

  “I could have dispatched them both with a mere dagger. I’ve seen children who know how to handle a sword better than my brother.”

  “Then I ask you again, why did you not take care of them?”

  “I believed that honor belonged to you, Your Highness.”

  The princess seldom referred to her mother as Your Highness outside of court. The princess knew she must tread lightly, though. This may be her mother, but who knew what retributive caprice her fury might elicit?

  “Honor!” shrilled the empress in a voice which pierced her ears. “I want that brat brother of yours dead and you on the throne of Ahlderon. Give me that honor.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” replied the princess obsequiously.

  The empress removed her claws from the desk and returned to her full height. She silently considered her daughter for a moment. Slowly the chill of her gaze thawed. With a curt sweep of her robe, she sat back in her chair.

  “Never mind,” she said calmly. “He’ll live to breathe a few days more, that is all. He shall not hinder us. Is there anything else, daughter?”

  The empress said daughter in such a biting tone that princes felt injured by them. It was as if her mother were mocking that title.

  “There is,” the princess replied, wishing there weren’t.

  The Empress raised one eyebrow and pressed her fingertips together.

  The princess went on, “Icca is gone.”

  “Icca?” replied the empress with subdued surprise, but not a hint of anger. “Gone to where?”

  “The guards saw her fleeing with the…with my brother and his oaf companion.”

  “They kidnapped Icca?”

  “Or she ran away. I don’t know, Your Highness.”

  “Ran away.”

  The empress repeated the words to herself as if she couldn’t believe they were true.

  That her mother should feel distraught at this news puzzled the princess. Putout at losing a servant, yes. Grief, though? Icca: that pathetic excuse for a serving wench? Perhaps her mother’s thoughts were distracted by some other matter, and she cared nothing for anything which concerned Icca.

  “I will see that they are all found. Leave me now.”

  With a low bow, the princess turned and left her mother’s study.

  * * *

  “You’re not thinking of getting onto one of those ships, are you?” said Endrick.

  Skylar’s eyes remained fixed on the encampment and landing field. This sprawling hive of enemy forces looked ready to swarm at any moment. He half expected shuttles to start launching off into the sky that instant.

  “Of course I am,” replied Skylar. “How else are we going to get back to Ahlderon? Those are the only ships with clearance to leave this accursed planet.”

  There was a creak of metal behind them. He looked to find Grüny and Kendyl making their way up the stairs.

  “What are you two plotting up here?” asked Grüny, huffing from his short climb.

  “Skylar has a brilliant plan,” said Endrick. “So brilliant that no rational, clear-headed person would ever think of it.”

  Grüny folded his arms and looked at Skylar expectantly.

  “Look out those windows,” he said.

  Both Grüny and Kendyl moved over to the windows and peered out. Grüny’s response was instantaneous.

  “Have you lost your mind!” he exclaimed. “Er…begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but there’s no way we can highjack one of those ships. Do you see how many soldiers are down there? They’re not gonna let you get close to a ship. You’d have better luck trying to grow wings and flying out of here on your own.”

  “I don’t plan on us walking up to them,” replied Skylar.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Endrick. “I’m getting tired of walking. I suppose the soldiers will just carry us on, then?”

  “Exactly.”

  * * *

  Skylar nodded his head and handed the spy lens to Endrick. With an expression of doubt, Endrick took the spy lens and brought it to his eye.

  “It’s just as I planned,” said Skylar.

  Endrick grunted, still watching through the lens.

  For the past two days, Skylar and Endrick had spent nearly every waking moment spying on the gates. They watched the incoming and outgoing traffic to the landing field. They recorded the precise time for each change of guard. They noted the cargo and war machines hauled in. Most importantly, they learned who supplied the food.

  Every cart, crate, or barrel brought through those gates received a thorough inspection. They wouldn’t be able to sneak in by stuffing themselves inside boxes. Not that Skylar would ever wish to do that again. The memory of when the smugglers packed them away like that was still a fresh wound in his mind. They needed another method for getting through the gates, past the scrutiny of the guards. And this man they now watched, with his cart loaded with food, might be the key.

  From the look of the man, he was non-military. This was good. They needed someone with fewer conflicts of interest. The look on the man’s pudgy face also gave Skylar greater assurance of their plan. He looked like a greedy man. A trait that, for once, they could leverage in their favor.

  Endrick handed the spy lens back to Skylar and grunted again.

  “You and I both know it’s our only chance,” said Skylar.

  Endrick grunted.

  Skylar looked through the spy lens and waited.

  Sometime later, the food supply man rumbled back through the gates in his cart, leaving the landing field. Skylar lowered the spy lens, stuffed it into a pocket of his cloak, and stepped back from the window.

  “He’s leaving,” he said, and he turned to do the same.

  Endrick only grunted in reply, but followed all the same.

  Out on the streets, the pair followed the man with the cart. They avoided the main avenue and kept to the side streets so as not to be seen by the man. Eventually, the man led them to a more populated area of the city, where businesses hummed with activity. Drawing up his cart in front of a factory, the man clambered from the front bench, hollered at a lackey, then disappeared inside.

  It was after nightfall before the man finally reemerged.

  “I hope wherever he goes it’s somewhere with food,” said Endrick as they resumed stalking the man.

  Endrick’s wish came true, for after only a few blocks, the man entered a tavern. A moment later, Skylar and Endrick stepped inside as well.

  A thick pall of tobacco smoke and a raucous noise greeted them as they entered. One or two sets of eyes trailed them as they walked across the wood-planked floor. Mostly, though, the drunken merrymakers paid them no mind. Aside from the laughter, jeers, and smoke in the air, an acerbic melody drifted above it al
l. In the corner, a woman with tentaclelike braids of hair dangling from her head played an instrument unknown to Skylar.

  Despite the pungent odor of tobacco and unbathed men, the warm aromas of fresh bread and fried potatoes and onions filtered in through his nose. His mouth began to water. Until then, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

  They sat down at a table in the back, where they could keep an eye on the man they were following. He sat alone, ordering his supper from a waitress. The waitress came to Skylar and Endrick’s table next. Endrick ordered a supper big enough to feed a small family for a week.

  When the food arrived, Skylar felt relieved to fill his belly, but hardly relished his meal. He was too anxious. With every bite, he watched the man out of the corner of his eye, lest the man leave before they were aware. He finished eating within a matter of minutes. The plump man whom they were following ate in no hurry, however.

  Finally, the man dropped his utensils onto the table and pushed his plate away.

  At the same moment, Skylar and Endrick pushed back their chairs, stood up, and approached the man’s table. He looked up with considerable alarm at the pair of them looming over his table.

  “What…what’s this!” he sputtered angrily.

  “We’d like a few words with you, good sir,” said Endrick.

  “You two? About what?”

  The man’s face had flushed red. Skylar knew they only had a few moments before this fellow burst into a tirade. It wouldn’t do to get themselves kicked out of the tavern, or worse—arrested. But Endrick understood how to bait the man.

  “Money,” replied Endrick.

  “Well, you can move along, then. You shan’t get any from me.”

  Endrick leaned in closer.

  “We mean money for you. We wish to hire you and your cart.”

  At Endrick’s reply, the man’s face brightened and the bulging veins in his neck melted away.

  “Ah,” he said, amiably. “Business, eh? That’s a different story. Have a seat. My name’s Obern. Forgive my rudeness. You’re not the sort of lot I generally deal with. Those accents you have…queerest I ever heard. Where are you two from, anyhow?”