Crown Conspiracy

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “Then it came to pass that Erebus, in a drunken rage, forced himself on Muriel. From this union was born Uberlin, the Dark One. He, too, created children in Elan, and they are the Ghazel, the Dacca, and all the other creatures of shadow. Outraged at the crime, Ferrol, Drome, and Maribor attacked their father and slew him. Uberlin tried to defend his father, and they turned on him. They nearly killed Uberlin as well, but Muriel, sickened at her father’s death, begged for his life. Instead, they cast Uberlin down and locked him within the depths of Elan.

  “His children, however, grew in number and began to take what little the children of Maribor had managed to acquire. Losing their tiny footholds, mankind begged Maribor for help, and he heard their pleas. He tricked his brother Drome into forging the great sword Rhelacan, although in some very old text it is referred to as a great horn. He convinced his other brother Ferrol to enchant the weapon. Then Maribor came to Elan in disguise and slept with a mortal woman. The union brought forth Novron the Great. Armed with the Rhelacan, Novron led mankind in a war against the elves, the dwarves, and the forces of shadow. In a few short years, mankind subdued them all.

  “Angry about the subjugation of their children by a demigod, Ferrol and Drome unleashed Uberlin with the promise of permanent freedom if he slew Novron. Twisted and misshapen after eons of darkened captivity, their half brother met Novron in battle. They fought for three days that shook Elan. In the end, Uberlin, severely wounded, crawled back into the bowels of the world, but Novron was worse. The mortal son of Maribor was pierced through the heart and died, his spirit returning to his father’s side.

  “Novron’s son became the new Emperor, and soon the Great Church of Nyphron was established to pay homage to Novron as god and the son of Maribor. The Nyphron Church became the official religion of the Empire, but farther away from the imperial capital of Percepliquis, people remembered the old ways and continued to worship Maribor as they always had. The people called these wandering priests of the old religion Monks of Maribor. Eventually, with the fall of the Empire, the monks became more prominent and established monasteries. There is much more to the story, of course, but that is a basic overview,” Myron said.

  “So,” Hadrian began, “you monks worship Maribor while the Nyphron worship Novron?”

  “Close,” the monk said, “the Nyphron also worship Maribor, they just put emphasis on Novron. The main differences are really in the manner of worship. The Church focuses on public worship. They are very involved in guiding society, as they believe the birth of Novron demonstrates Maribor wanted his worshipers to take a direct hand in controlling the fate of mankind. As such, they are very involved in politics and warfare. We monks believe in a more personal devotion to Maribor. We seek out his will in the quiet places, through the ancient rituals and in this silence; he speaks to us in our hearts. We don’t so much seek to do what Maribor wants, but rather to merely learn to know Maribor better.”

  “Well, thank you, Myron,” Hadrian said. “That was very educational, but I’m afraid I didn’t find anything in that which would help us with our current situation.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t a help,” Myron said in a disappointed tone.

  During the monk’s tale, Hadrian had found a comfortable seat next to Alric, with his back against the cliff wall. After checking on the horses once more, Myron joined them. Royce remained studying the cliff. No one disturbed his concentration.

  Storm clouds covered the sky and darkened the ravine. What light remained was an odd hue adding a sense of the surreal to the landscape. Soon the wind began gusting through the pass, blowing dirt into the air. In the distance, they could hear the low rumble of thunder.

  “Any luck with the door, Royce?” Hadrian asked. His legs were outstretched, and he tapped the tips of his boots together. “Because it looks like we’re in for another cold, wet night, only tonight we won’t have any shelter.”

  Royce muttered something none of them caught.

  Down below them, framed by the walls of the ravine, they could still see the shimmering surface of the lake. It was still a pale gray, but now it shined like a mirror facing the sky. Every now and then, it would flash brilliantly when lightning flickered in the distance.

  Royce grumbled again.

  “What’s that?” Hadrian asked.

  “I was just thinking about what you said earlier. Why would she send us here if she knew we couldn’t get in? She must have thought we could, maybe to her it was obvious.”

  “Maybe it’s magic,” Alric said, pulling his cloak tighter.

  “Enough with the enchanted words,” Royce told him. “Locks are mechanical. Believe me, I know a bit about this subject. Dwarves are very clever and very skilled, but they don’t make doors that unlock by a sound.”

  “I just brought it up because Arista could do some, so maybe getting in is easy for her.”

  “Do some what?” Hadrian asked.

  “Magic.”

  “Your sister is a witch?” Myron asked disturbed.

  Alric laughed. “You could certainly say that, yes, but it has little to do with her magical capabilities. She studied at Sheridan University for a few years learning magical theory. It never amounted to much, but she was able to do a thing or two. She magically locks the door to her room, and I am certain she made the Countess Amril terribly sick one day when she betrayed a trust and told a squire Arista fancied him. Poor Amril was covered in boils for a week.”

  Royce looked over at Alric. “What do you mean magically locks her door?”

  “There’s never been a lock on it, but no one can open it but her.”

  “Did you ever see your sister unlock her door?”

  Alric shook his head. “I wish I had.”

  “Myron,” Royce said, turning to the monk, “did you ever read about unusual locks, or keys? Maybe something associated with dwarves?”

  “There’s the tale of Iberius and the Giant, where Iberius uses a key forged by dwarves to open the giant’s treasure box, but it wasn’t magical. It was just big. There’s also the Collar of Liem, from the Myth of the Forgotten, that refused to unlock until the wearer was dead—I guess that doesn’t help you. There’s also gemlocks.”

  “What are gemlocks?”

  “They’re not magical either, but they were invented by dwarves. Gems interact with other stones by creating a low resonance, or subtle vibrations. Gemlocks were created to be used when an individual key was impractical, for example when a great number of people needed to access the contents of a locked container, or when someone needed to be able to open a lock but would not be able to have access to a single key. All they needed to have was a gem of matching type. The wealthy sent messages in gemlocked boxes, using expensive stones for keys which made it hard for a poor courier to obtain. For particularly clever locks, the gemlock might require a specific cut, which modified the resonance. Truly gifted crafters could make a lock that actually changed with the seasons, allowing different gems to unlock it at different times of the year. This is what gave rise to the idea of birthstones, for certain stones have more strength at certain times.”

  “That’s it,” Royce interrupted.

  “What’s it?” Alric asked. Royce reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dark blue ring. Alric jumped to his feet. “That’s my father’s ring! Give it to me!”

  “Fine,” Royce said tossing it toward the prince. “Your sister told us to return it to you when we got to the prison.”

  “She did?” Alric looked surprised. He slipped the ring on his finger, and like his sword, it did not quite fit and spun around from the weight of the gem. “I thought she took it. It has the royal seal. She could have used it to muster the nobles, to make laws, or to announce herself as steward. With it, she could have taken control of everything.”

  “Maybe she was telling the truth,” Hadrian suggested.

  “Let’s not make snap judgments,” Royce cautioned. “First, let’s see if this works. Your sister said you would need the ring
to get into the prison. I thought she meant to identify you as the king, but I think she meant it a bit more literally. If I’m correct, touching the stone with the ring will cause giant doors to open.”

  They all gathered at the cliff face close to Alric in anticipation of the dramatic event.

  “Go ahead, Alric—do it.”

  He turned the ring so the gem was on top, made a fist, and attempted to touch it to the cliff. As he did, his hand disappeared into the rock. Alric recoiled, wheeling backward with a cry.

  “What happened?” Royce asked. “Did it hurt?”

  “No, it just felt sort of cold, but I can’t touch it.”

  “Try it again,” Hadrian said.

  Alric did not look at all happy with the suggestion but nodded just the same. This time he pressed farther, and the whole party watched as his hand disappeared into the wall up to his wrist before he withdrew it.

  “Fascinating,” Royce muttered, feeling the solid stone of the cliff. “I didn’t expect that.”

  “Does that mean he has to go in alone?” Hadrian asked.

  “I’m not sure I want to enter solid stone alone,” Alric said with fear in his voice.

  “Well, you may have no choice,” Royce responded, “assuming you still want to talk to the wizard. But let’s not give up yet. Give me the ring a moment.”

  Despite his earlier desire for the ring, Alric now showed no concern at handing it over. Royce slipped it on, and when he pressed his hand to the cliff face, it passed into the mountainside just as easily as Alric’s had. Royce pulled his hand back, then he took the ring off, and holding it in his left hand, he reached out with his right. Once more, his hand passed through the stone.

  “So you don’t have to be the prince, and you don’t have to be wearing it. You only need to be touching it. Myron, didn’t you say something about the gem creating a vibration?”

  Myron nodded. “They create a specific resonance with certain stones types.”

  “Try holding hands,” Hadrian suggested.

  Alric and Royce did so, and this time, both could penetrate the stone.

  “That’s it.” Royce declared. “One last test. Everyone join hands. Let’s make sure it works with four.” They all joined hands and each was able to pierce the surface of the cliff. “Everyone, make sure you remove your hands before breaking the chain.”

  “Okay, we need to make some decisions before we go any further. I’ve seen some unusual things before, but nothing like this. I don’t have a clue what will happen to us if we go in there. Well, Hadrian, what do you think?”

  Hadrian rubbed his chin. “It’s a risk to be sure. Considering some of the choices I’ve made recently, I’ll leave this one up to you. If you think we should go then that is good enough by me.”

  “I have to admit,” Royce responded, “my curiosity is piqued, so if you still want to go through with this, Alric, we’ll go with you.”

  “If I had to go in alone, I would decline,” Alric said. “But, I also am curious.”

  “Myron?” Royce asked.

  “What about the horses? Will they be all right?”

  “I’m sure they will be fine.”

  “But what if we don’t come back? They’ll starve, won’t they?”

  Royce sighed. “It’s us or the horses. You’ll have to choose.”

  Myron hesitated. Lightning and thunder tore through the sky, and it began to rain. “Can’t we just untie them, so in case we don’t—”

  “I don’t intend to make plans based on our expected deaths. We’ll need the horses when we come out. They’re staying; are you?”

  The wind sprayed rain into the monk’s face as he stole one last look at the horses. “I’ll go,” he said finally. “I just hope they’ll be all right.”

  “Okay,” Royce told them, “this is how we’ll do it. I’ll go first wearing the ring. Alric comes in behind me, then Myron, and Hadrian will take up the rear. When we get inside, we break the chain in reverse order: Hadrian first, then Myron, and Alric last. Enter in the same place I do, and don’t pass me. I don’t want anyone setting off any traps. Any questions?”

  All but Myron shook their heads. “Wait a second,” he said as he trotted off toward where they stored their gear. He gathered the lantern and tinder kit he had brought from the abbey and paused a moment to pet the horses’ wet noses one more time. “I’m ready now,” he said when he returned to the party.

  “All right, here goes, everyone hang on and follow me,” Royce said as they rejoined their chain and moved forward. One by one, they passed through the rock cliff. Hadrian was last. When the barrier reached his shoulder, he took a deep breath as if he was swimming, and with that, Hadrian dipped his head inside the stone.

  Chapter 5: Esrahaddon

  They entered into total darkness. The air was dry, still, and stale. The only sound came from the rainwater dripping from their clothes. Hadrian took a few blind steps forward to make sure he was completely through the barrier before releasing Myron’s hand. “See anything, Royce?” he asked in a whisper so quiet it could scarcely be heard.

  “No, not a thing. Everyone stay still until Myron gets the lantern lit.”

  Hadrian could hear Myron fiddling in the dark. He tilted his head, searching in vain for anything to focus on. There was nothing. He could have had his eyes closed. Myron scraped the tiny metal lever on his tinder pad, and a burst of sparks emitted from the monk’s lap. In the flare, Hadrian saw faces glaring from the darkness. They appeared briefly and vanished with the dying brilliance.

  No one moved or spoke as Myron scrapped the pad again. This time the tinder caught fire, and the monk lit the wick of the lantern. The light revealed a narrow hallway, only five feet wide, and a ceiling which was so high it was lost in darkness. Lining both walls were carvings of faces, as if people standing on the other side of a gray curtain were pressing forward to peer at them. Seemingly caught in a moment of anguish frozen forever in stone, their terrible ghastly visages stared back at them with gaping mouths and wild eyes.

  “Pass up the light,” Royce ordered softly.

  As the lantern moved from Myron to Royce, its light shone on more faces. To Hadrian, it seemed as if they screamed at the intruders, but the corridor remained still and silent. Some of the figures had eyes wide with fear, while others were shut tight, perhaps to avoid seeing something too frightening to look at.

  “Someone certainly had a morbid taste in decorating,” Royce said, taking the lantern.

  “I’m just thankful they’re only carvings. Imagine if we could hear them,” Alric said.

  “What makes you think they’re carvings?” Hadrian asked, reaching out to gingerly touch the nose of a woman with glaring eyes. He half expected warm skin and was grateful when his fingers met cold stone. “Maybe they let go of their gemstones too soon.”

  Royce held the lantern up high. “The passage keeps going.”

  “More faces?” Alric asked.

  “More faces,” the thief confirmed.

  “At least we’re out of the rain,” Hadrian said, trying to sound cheerful. “We could still be back…” When he turned around, he was shocked. The corridor extended behind them seemingly without end. “Where’s the wall we just came through?” He took a step and reached out. “It’s not an illusion. The hallway keeps going.” Turning back, Hadrian saw Royce pressing on the sides of the corridor, unlike the wall outside, his hand did not penetrate the surface.

  “Well, this is going to make matters difficult,” the thief muttered.

  “There must be another way out, right?�er way o�� Alric asked, his voice a bit shaky.

  The thief looked back, then forward, and sighed. “We might as well travel in the direction we entered. Here, Alric, take your ring back, although I’m not sure what good it will do you in here.”

  Royce led them down the corridor. He checked and tested anything that appeared suspicious. The passage went on for what seemed like eternity. Despite the hallway appearing perfectly
straight and level, Hadrian began to wonder if the dwarves had built in an imperceptible curve that made the hallway loop back onto itself to form a circle. He also worried about the amount of oil left in Myron’s lantern. It would not be long before they were cast back into utter darkness.

  The lack of variation in their surroundings made it impossible to judge exactly how long they had been walking. After awhile something luminescent appeared in the distance. A tiny light bobbed and weaved. As the light drew closer, the echo of sharp, deliberate footsteps accompanied it. At last, Hadrian could discern the figure carrying a lamp. He was tall, trim, and wore a long-hooded hauberk. Over this was a scarlet and gold tabard that shimmered in the lamplight. The tabard was marked with a regal coat of arms depicting a celestial crown and a jeweled scepter above a shield divided into quarters and supported on either side by combatant lions. At his side was an ornate sword, and on his head, a pointed silver helm exquisitely etched with gold ivy trim. Below the helm was a pair of dark eyes, and an even darker look.

  “Why are you here?” His tone was reproachful and threatening.

  There was a pause before Royce replied. “We are here to see the prisoner.”

  “That is not allowed,” he responded firmly.

  “Then Esrahaddon is still alive?” asked Alric.

  “Do not speak that name!” thundered the sentry. He cast a tense look over his shoulder into the darkness. “Not here, not ever here. You should not have come.”

  “That may be, but we are here and we need to see Esra—the prisoner,” Royce replied.

  “That will not be possible.”

  “Make it possible,” Alric ordered. His voice was loud and commanding. He stepped out from behind the others. “I am King Alric of Melengar, lord of this land wherein you stand. You will not tell me what is and what is not possible within the boundaries of my own kingdom.”

  The sentry took a step back and eyed Alric critically. “You lack a crown, king.”

  Alric drew his sword. Despite its size, he handled it smoothly and extended the point at the sentry. “What I lack in a crown, I more than make up for in a sword.”