The Alabaster Throne (The Fall of Atlantis Book 1)

by Wilson Harp

  Tal smiled. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  His feet felt a bit lighter as he made his way to Meleus’ room. Maldrophe was a very astute woman, and he thought she might give him some advice about how to handle Siande.

  “There you are,” Siande said as he entered the room.

  Tal’s smile dropped as he heard the rebuke in her voice. “I’m sorry, I just woke. I came here before eating, though.”

  “That’s all you have to say to me? That’s all you can think about when you’re about to destroy my family?”

  She stepped toward Tal with such fierceness he backed into the wall.

  “What happened? Why are you angry?”

  “Why?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe because the whole trip to the shrine was to confirm my father is a traitor? Do you realize what will happen to my mother? My sisters? Me?”

  “Will you keep quiet?” Daelcor said as he came into the room. “No one else needs to hear this.”

  “I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t know how.”

  “And you weren’t going to, were you? You were going to leave for the shrine without telling me where you were going and then come back and betray my family to the fires.”

  “No. You would have been banished, not sacrificed.”

  “Better to be sacrificed than sent away in disgrace, to beg and whore myself to eat because no decent person would want anything to do with a traitor’s daughter!”

  “Please, be quiet,” said Daelcor. “Someone will hear and then we’ll have a problem.”

  “How did you find out anyway?” Tal asked. He glared at the priest.

  “It wasn’t me, Tal. They gave Meleus casus when they cleaned his wound. I’d gone to my quarters to sleep. And I didn’t know Siande would come here instead of heading home.”

  Tal looked at her. “She did head home. I saw her.”

  Siande stepped away and turned her back on them. “I couldn’t stay.”

  “Why?” asked Tal.

  “My mother was so happy to see me, and yet she sent me away at once. She told me not to say who I had been with, and begged me to go before my father got back. She said he was furious when he discovered me missing. He suspected we had run away together and said he would have me flogged and then sold to the temple if that were the case.”

  She turned back to face Tal, her cheeks wet with tears. “Her face was a mass of bruises. He had beaten her daily for raising such an insolent child. I was a coward and fled as soon as she let me go from her arms. I could only think of one place where my father’s guards wouldn’t find me.”

  “The lower temple.”

  She nodded. “I came to see Daelcor and ask him for a place to stay, but he had already left. So I found where they had Meleus and stayed here.”

  “And during the night he told you what happened in the battle and our plan to go to the shrine.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t want to believe it, but one of the priests told me no one can lie when they take casus leaf.”

  Tal hugged her and quieted her sudden sobs. “I should have made these plans when I decided to head to the shrine, but I will put you, your mother, and your sisters under my protection. Father won’t go against my decision.”

  “But then people will assume I’m your consort. Is that what you want?”

  “For them to assume or for you to be my consort?”

  She laughed as she held him tight. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “That’s enough,” said Daelcor. “There are sick people here and they don’t need to be hearing and seeing all of this.” He pushed past the couple and knelt to tend to Meleus who lay asleep.

  Tal closed his eyes as he held Siande. He could see the three of them as wolves, like in his dream. They were the first of his pack, he was sure of it.

  “It will be several days before I report to my father what I have discovered, the wedding and the High King’s visit is of more importance at this time. When things return to normal, I will take some of the royal guards and have your father arrested. Then I will reveal my evidence.”

  “What is to happen to me until then?” she asked.

  “I’ll ask my mother if you can stay here. She can always hide you in the serene quarters,” said Daelcor.

  Tal felt her back tighten up as Daelcor spoke. Like many women, she accepted the worship of Rosta and made the sacrifices for love and harmony, but she did not like the serenes and how willing men were to worship Rosta in their way.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For a short while.”

  “A week at most,” Tal said.

  “If you go through with it,” Daelcor muttered.

  “If?”

  Daelcor moved from his knees to sit on a stool by the bed.

  “Praset is a talented general, and a powerful member of the court in his own right. It would weaken Mestor if he were executed.”

  Tal released Siande and stood in front of the seated priest.

  “I know he’s responsible for Meleus laying there. I know he intended to kill me. I have no doubt he is responsible for Galius’s death. Now wouldn’t you say he has weakened Mestor by those actions?”

  Daelcor smiled. “Yes. I wanted to make sure you’d considered the price. Your father will agree, reluctantly. Despite the comings and goings of the palace, they are like brothers. Wasn’t Praset raised to general before your father took the throne?”

  “Yes, my grandfather put the armband on him at the last ceremony of his life. The next time the throne was sat on, Praset was present as general of Mestor.”

  “That was thirty years ago, Tal. And they had fought alongside each other for ten years prior. Their bond is deep and this betrayal goes beyond a simple soldier betraying his king and banner. You need to find out why. What could have caused this?”

  Siande sat on a stool in the corner. She bit her lip as she looked down at her hands.

  “Do you know anything which might reveal his motives?” Tal asked.

  She shook her head. “He never speaks of important things when we are present. If he tells my mother any of his secrets, it’s when my sisters and I are not present. But I doubt he tells her much of anything.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Daelcor.

  “They used to fight in their bedroom all the time. But they haven’t for years. He rarely enters the bedroom anymore. On the nights he stays at home, he sleeps on the roof and has serenes brought to him.”

  “How often does he not sleep at home?”

  “Pretty often,” answered Tal. “Most nights he’s in the royal apartments.”

  “Did you hear that?” asked Siande as she tilted her head.

  “Here what?” Daelcor said.

  Tal motioned him to be quiet and stepped to the door of the room. A faint sound of a trumpet could be heard.

  “How long have I been here?” Tal asked.

  “Not long,” said Daelcor. “The High King?”

  “Not expected until noon.”

  Again a sound of a trumpet, but not the long, solid blast which would announce a royal arrival, it was a series of short, frantic blast used to call soldiers to their positions.

  “Something’s happening,” said Tal. The hallway leading out of the sick rooms crowded with priests and servants who stepped out to listen.

  “You stay here,” he said to Siande. “I’ll be back as soon as I find out what’s happening.”

  Tal picked his way through the crowd, until he stood at the doorway. The horns had stopped but new sounds reached his ears: the shouts of men in combat, the rattle of metal against metal, of yells of commands.

  Two temple guards flanked him as they guarded the door to the lower temple. They glanced at him as he paused by them, and then turned back to look toward the source of the sounds. Tal could feel they were terrified. Though they trained in the yard with the soldiers of the city, their duties were ceremonial. They had never seen combat and it was unlikely they ever would.

  “Give me
your dagger,” Tal said. He didn’t care which one complied.

  “My lord? What is happening,” one asked as he handed Tal the long blade.

  “I will find out. Rouse the rest of the temple guard and forbid entrance to the temple of anyone under arms, no matter whose authority. This is a sacred place and not to be desecrated. That’s a royal order.”

  “Yes my prince,” said the one who had given his blade. The guard ran up the stairs to the barracks which sat between the lower temple and the temple of Balket.

  Tal ran down the path which led to the royal apartments. He considered his spears in his rooms, but the sound of screams drove him forward. As he reached the small grove of fruit trees which overlooked the palace square, he recognized all of the sounds came from the palace itself. The square, which had been cleared of merchant tables in preparation for the High King’s arrival, was empty save for two guards who stood behind the closed gate which led into the city.

  Tal turned toward the palace and raced toward the kitchen entrance. He could have moved through the building blindfolded without touching a wall, so he knew he would be at an advantage against any enemy in the twisted, narrow passageways which honeycombed the ancient structure.

  As he rounded a corner, he saw several soldiers, the bottom of their faces covered in black cloth, chase a royal guardsman out of the main palace door. The guard had been wounded severely, his left arm hung like a bloody hunk of meat. In his left hand he had a trumpet. He lifted the trumpet to his lips as he reached the wide steps which led down to the square, but no sound came. The two masked soldiers thrust their spears into his back so hard the bronze tips sprayed blood as they erupted from his chest.

  Tal gripped his knife and headed for the kitchens. Mestor was under attack.

  Chapter 15

  Tal held the knife point low as he moved toward the door to the palace kitchen. He glanced inside and saw several people on the ground, blood splattered everywhere. He also saw two men with short spears eating out of a pot. The thought these killers could eat food after they had slaughtered the helpless servants quickened his pulse as he slipped in the door.

  The first never saw the man who killed him, the blade buried deep in his back, slipped between his ribs. With a mouth full of stew, he slumped to the ground without a sound.

  The second man had time to widen his eyes and take a step back before Tal had taken his throat with the long, sharp bronze blade. A gurgle as he looked in the Prince’s eyes might have been a cry of alarm, but only the man in front of him heard his last sounds.

  Tal saw a few of the servants move and several more seemed to be not badly wounded, but he had no time to tend to them, he had to make it to the throne room. The screams and shouts of battle had faded as he slipped into the king’s private rooms.

  Tal considered going for more aid, but the horns had been blown several times before he left the temple. He feared the city guard was occupied with attacks on the gates. This was an organized attack, but by whom? It couldn’t be another kingdom; no king would risk angering the gods with such a blatant violation of the laws of Atlas. A group of nobles set against his father? There had been no rumors of such, and they would dare not attack while the High King was in the city.

  Tal paused in the private dining room. The High King hadn’t arrived yet, so it couldn’t be an attempt on his life.

  The sounds of combat had quieted completely. Tal set his jaw and gripped his knife tight as he opened the door to look into the throne room. The image was far worse than Tal could have imagined. The first person he saw was Vistral, the white haired servant who had served the royal family for his many years. His lifeless eyes looked upon Tal at the foot of the door. Beyond him the floor was red with blood, bodies strewn in small groups for the most part, as it looked as if they gathered for protection. Tal listened but didn’t hear any sound in the throne room. Just beyond, in the entry hall which lead from the wide stairs, he heard boots on the floor and some words which echoed indistinctly.

  Tal was in a nightmare, he knew it. It had to be a nightmare. He stepped over the body of Vistral and into the room which was the heart of Mestor. Dozens of bodies lay before him. Members of the court and royal guardsmen alike.

  He saw Hela, the blue ribbons which she wore in her blonde hair everyday soaked in blood. She lay half under the body of Mira, who had been pierced several times by spears. Langua, Mira’s husband, lay beside her, a dagger in his hand, stained with blood. He had fought to the end.

  Tal held his breath to keep from sobbing. Both of his sisters lay dead before him. He looked further, as he hoped to not see many he knew. An’toko, his face full of mischief most days, had a look of terror and disbelief. His expression not one of pain, so Tal knew he had been killed before he knew what had happened.

  Tal forced himself to look to the throne, the seat of his father. There he saw piles of fine clothing draped on still bodies. He stepped carefully on the blood slick stones to confirm what he already knew. There were four figures at the foot of the steps to the throne, and Tal knew who the women were even though he had never seen them before. Olatic held a blade in his right hand, and held the hand of a beautiful girl with his other. He had died as he protected his new bride. He had known her for less than a day.

  The High Queen, her silver crown set with emeralds and sapphires fallen from her head, lay between the throne and a strong older man who had been stabbed directly in the middle of the chest. Tal stepped over to his father and knelt down. Tears dripped from his cheek and he set down his dagger to cradle his father’s head to his chest.

  “Oh father,” he whispered. “Who could have done such a thing?”

  Boots struck the stone as they drew near and Tal placed his father back down and picked up his dagger. If the assassins had returned, they would meet a wolf in full rage.

  He turned back to see a tall, broad man step from the hallway into the carnage filled throne room.

  His eyes met Praset’s and both men froze.

  Praset’s armor was bloodstained, as was the spear he held in his hand. He tossed aside a scrap of cloth and Tal knew it would be a black mask meant to conceal his face.

  “The prince is here, sound the alarm,” the general yelled. He charged forward and Tal heard the sound of many boots charge toward the throne room from the entry hall.

  Tal faced his mentor, the man who had a few weeks before betrayed him. The man who still had the blood of his father on the blade of his spear. A rage swelled in Tal as he tensed to strike at the traitor.

  And then he considered the price. His own life did not matter to him, but the kingdom would be plunged into despair, his family would not be avenged, and Siande would suffer under the hand of her father. And all Tal would have succeeded in doing was dying in rage.

  “Come, Taldirun,” Praset said as he walked forward. “Let’s end this.”

  Tal’s legs trembled as he ordered them to move. His body, his whole being, rejected what he knew he had to do.

  Six men entered the throne room. They saw Tal and ran forward with their spears ahead of them.

  Tal fled. He turned and raced into the warren of rooms which would lead him to the kitchens. These men were familiar with the palace, though they did not know the private rooms of the king near as well as Tal. But they knew them well enough that the young prince did not slow as they chased him.

  He ran into the kitchen, leapt over the two slain soldiers, burst out of the door into the open daylight, and turned toward the temple.

  As he raced along the path, he looked up at the Temple of Balket and saw his mother and Bator start their descent. His heart rose as he realized some of his family yet lived.

  He slowed and they saw him.

  “He is there,” his mother shouted. “Stop him, take him back to the palace.”

  Tal’s insides twisted as he realized she shouted toward his pursuers. His mother had betrayed them. His mother had arranged the slaughter.

  He jumped over a railing and ran
along a low wall until he could scramble up an embankment near the entrance to the sick rooms. There were six temple guards who stood at the door. When he appeared, they blocked his way.

  “There is no entry by order of Prince Taldirun,” one said.

  Tal handed the dagger he held to the soldier he had taken it from.

  “The prince!” several said at once. They allowed him to squeeze past them, their eyes sharp for any pursuers.

  “Tal, the blood,” Siande said as he entered the building. She waited just inside.

  “We must leave, now.”

  “Who? Where?”

  “Me and you, right this moment. Somewhere out of the city, for certain. He’ll have it shut down soon enough.”

  “Tal, what happened?” Daelcor said.

  “Praset has overthrown my father, by my mother’s will. He searches for me now.”

  “Olatic?” Daelcor asked as Siande held her hands over her mouth.

  “Dead, with the others. Hela, Mira, An’to and father. All the court.”

  “Gods save us.”

  “You stay here with Meleus, keep him safe,” Tal said. “They won’t come into the temple.”

  “They will, eventually,” Maldrophe said. “But they will be safe for a few days.”

  “Do you have the cloaks you and Meleus wore to the shrine?” Tal asked.

  “I have mine in Meleus’ room,” Siande said. “And his lay in the corner.”

  “Go get them, we will wear them out of the city.”

  Horns blasted and there was the sound of soldiers near the entry to the lower temple.

  “They search for you,” Maldrophe said. “You must leave soon.”

  “It sounds like an uproar in the city, word must have spread something has happened at the palace.”

  Tal nodded. “That means a flood of people out of the city. We’ll make our way into the crowds.”

  “Her hair will make her easy to spot.”

  “She needs to keep her hood up,” Tal said.

  “That will look suspicious,” said Daelcor.

  A crack of thunder rolled through the temple.

  “Rain,” said Maldrophe. “One of the gods covers your escape it seems.”