The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian

by Ben Hale

  He chuckled in response. “I wasn’t always a politician you know. Besides, it would be nice to get my saber out for a good fight.”

  Erix nodded slowly, biting his lip. “She does have a point, though. The city won’t take lightly to one of their elected officials traipsing all over their laws without regard. I hate to say this Rez, but I think you should sit this one out.”

  Rez frowned and made one last desperate effort. “Ah, but I know how the new holding cells are constructed. I can get you in easier than you could on your own.”

  Erix sidestepped his suggestion easily. “You can help us plan it right here without endangering your reputation.”

  For a brief second a nervous look flashed across Rezko’s face and Taryn thought he would protest again, but then he seemed to wilt and conceded. “All right. Let me get some parchment so I can draw you a map.” Reaching for a drawer in his desk, he stopped and seemed to consider something, then looked at his three guests. “Let me get some food first, this might take a while.”

  At a grateful nod from Erix, Rezko stood and left the room. Although the retired sailor tried valiantly to hide it, it was obvious that he was disappointed.

  As soon as he left, the sea captain turned with a puzzled look. “That was odd. Rez is usually very optimistically stubborn. I can’t believe he gave up so easily on a chance for a scrap.”

  “He seemed scared too,” Liri said to herself.

  “What? What do you mean? Rezko isn’t scared of anything,” Erix said, an edge creeping into his voice.

  “That’s not what she meant,” Taryn said quickly. “Go ahead and tell him, Liri.”

  Liri briefly explained what Mae had said about everyone’s behavior on the docks.

  When she was done, Erix leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. “Hmm, I think you might be right. There was definitely something strange today. I have berthed here for almost forty years and I have never felt like so many people were watching me tie up. I thought it was just me, so I didn’t say anything—and the way the guards knew we were coming? Something is going on I tell you.”

  After a moment where they all considered the oddity, Taryn broke the silence. “Have you ever seen Rezko scared?”

  “No, never,” he replied, his tone emphatic.

  “Something has everyone here spooked,” Taryn stated matter-of-factly, pointedly drawing attention to the city as a whole rather than Erix’s friend. “And it definitely isn’t normal.”

  “What could scare a whole city?” Liri asked in confusion.

  “I don’t know,” Erix said, shaking his head.

  A creak in the wood behind them made them all jump and turn to see Rezko in the doorway holding a platter of food. His far-away expression showed he’d heard at least part of their conversation.

  “There have been strange tales being told of late.” The large man's voice came out in a whisper, barely audible but carrying enough intensity to make Taryn feel the urge to touch his weapons.

  “What sort of tales?” Liri asked, matching his tone.

  “The sort that scares hardened soldiers and sailors.” He paused to wipe the sudden sweat from his brow. “Death is said to stalk this land . . . personally.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Erix asked, frowning.

  “It started a couple of months ago. Travelers and traders from the eastern kingdom have been telling stories of an assassin killing people—stalking and slaughtering without mercy. No one has been able to stop him. No one knows who it is or why he’s doing it—and the assassin’s guild isn’t behind it. Early on they lost several of their best, including the guildmaster. In the last couple of weeks more and more people have been moving west, and everyone is scared. Some are so scared they come running—but no one is chasing them.” He was still standing in the door, staring into space, so Erix stood and led him to his seat. Rezko seemed unaware of his friend’s help, and continued with the story as soon as he was seated.

  “Soldiers from both human kingdoms have been sent to find him, but to no avail. Some soldiers haven’t even reported back. I’m not sure if it’s because they deserted or if they were killed, although enough bodies have been found to support the latter possibility.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “To make matters worse, a strange disease and lack of food is spreading in the east as well—and now it’s reached the southern kingdom.” He shivered and swallowed. “Two days ago a messenger was supposed to arrive directly from the eastern king. He never made it.”

  For the first time Rez looked small. “It’s a bad time, I say. Tales of fights and mysterious deaths, of a thief that is so good you can’t kill him even if you could catch him. They call him the cheater of death, you know. It’s inspired more stealing and robbing than ever. No one can hold onto anything anymore, or trust anyone either. This cursed fear is causing everyone to act as if death is lurking around every corner.”

  A muffled shout from the first floor snapped them all back to reality.

  “She never used to yell,” Rezko said, his voice morose. Then he visibly shook himself and smiled half-heartedly. “Let’s get to work; we have an innocent man to break out of jail and not much time to prepare.”

  Taryn and Liri were about to ask for more information, but Erix forestalled them with a look. “OK, Rez, why don't you start with the defenses?” He leaned in to focus on the paper on which the politician had begun to sketch.

  Liri caught Taryn’s eye with a loaded look that he took to mean they would talk about this later. The odd conversation had sparked far more questions than answers, but there was one question that was on his mind more than all the others. How would this affect his quest to find his heritage? Then guilt washed over him as he realized that a part of him was glad for the distraction.

  It was the same part that doubted he would ever find answers.

  Chapter 9: Escape

  Taryn sat hunched in a darkening alley a couple of blocks from the prison with Liri, Trin, and Mae behind him. While he waited, he reviewed the drawings that Rezko had sketched for them, more than a little apprehensive about the level of security. The councilman had told them that this new complex had been built after the old jail had failed to hold almost anyone. After the description, he wasn’t the only one wishing for the old one.

  The first thing they had to get past was a high, square shaped wall, built with a single gate facing the sea. Constantly manned by roving and stationary guards, it looked more like a castle than a prison, and surrounded a large courtyard. Barracks had been built inside the outer fortifications on every side and housed more than two hundred men. To make matters worse, outside the wall had been cleared of all trees or buildings within fifty feet, leaving open ground on any approach.

  At the center of the courtyard, a small square building contained the only entrance to the underground prison. At the front of the building, an entrance room served to admit prisoners and sat adjacent to Dumont’s personal office. Rezko had said that the most difficult door to get through would be the one at the back of the entrance hall. Fashioned of solid iron, the strongdoor could be secured from inside, and nothing short of an army would be able to break it down.

  At the first sign of an intruder, the two men inside the strongdoor would simply close and lock it before signaling the guards in the barracks to come and deal with the situation. The would-be rescuer would then have no choice but to fight a hopeless battle defending the small entrance room. Behind this last threshold, stairs led down into the holding cells. At the rear of the building, a second strongdoor served as an emergency exit, and was similarly bolted from the inside.

  Taryn looked again at the diagram and then glanced at the setting sun. Recognizing it was time to go, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves and stepped out of the shadows. Before he stepped into the torchlight, he began staggering his way towards the outer gate. Appearing to be drunk was difficult for Taryn, who didn’t like strong drink and had never really had enough to know firsthand how to act. And
with his swords back with his friends, he felt extremely self-conscious. His clothing didn’t help either. Trin had ‘prepared’ them personally, and they smelled like manure and sour ale. Taryn didn’t even want to know what he’d done to them. Even Mae had voiced an objection, but Trin had been adamant that the stronger the stench, the more it repulsed.

  “Smelling horrible is sort of like . . . armor, and no one will want to come near you,” he’d said resolutely.

  As Taryn indirectly approached the gate, he focused on the first step of the plan they had come up with—getting arrested. He did his best to calm his pounding heart. It wouldn’t go well if he let his nerves get the better of him. Drawing close, he swallowed hard and began the act they had practiced, cursing Trin for coming up with such a stupid line.

  “Wur is the ̓tupid gurd that hit me brudder?” he slurred and lurched right into one of the guards at the gate, who promptly shoved him away.

  “Get out of here before I arrest you, you filthy dog,” another guard yelled while the first one cursed and tried to wipe his hands off from where he’d touched Taryn’s cloak.

  Taryn’s response was to draw a large ladle from within his robe and start hitting the guard, lightly enough to avoid damage but heavily enough to anger the man. He didn’t have all day to get arrested; they had a schedule to keep.

  On cue the guard raised one hand to block the off-balance blows as he tried to grab Taryn’s shoulder with his other and hollered for the other guards, “Oi, get this nutter off me!”

  Within moments Taryn allowed himself to be disarmed and was led through the gate and into the field. Right on time, Taryn thought, forcing his heart to beat slower.

  He staggered and muttered enough to maintain the act but he kept his eyes roving around to look for any snags in their plan. By the time they had crossed the field and gotten to the prison entrance, Taryn had managed to get a good look at the patrols and structures inside the walls. The guard he’d hit with the ladle opened a heavy ironbound oak door and led him into the expected entryway. Five men stood in neat rows against the wall on his left, mirrored by five more on the right. All of them stared at him with hard eyes and hands resting easily on sword hilts. Dumont himself sat behind a desk flanked by five more soldiers on either side of him, also against the walls. Nothing else adorned the bare room except the large strongdoor directly behind the desk and another, smaller, door on the right of the room that presumably went to Dumont’s office.

  When Taryn and his companion walked through the door Dumont looked up and waved them forward. Taryn was careful to keep up the façade by staggering and lurching. Despite his disguise, he felt a flash of concern as one of the guards from the docks looked like he might recognize him, but just then the smell from his clothing hit the room. Some of the guards blanched as the enclosed space enhanced the odor tenfold. Dumont wrinkled his nose when they stopped in front of his desk.

  “What is that horrendous stench?” he demanded, leaning back and gagging.

  The guard nodded at Taryn while discreetly keeping his distance. “Got a nutter here, he’s stone drunk and I think he fell into a wagon of manure.”

  “Lock him up until he sobers, then bring him to me again—and by Skorn, clean him up before I see him again.” He signaled another guard to bring some irons forward.

  Taryn took a quiet breath and prepared himself for the hardest part. Because they put shackles on prisoners before they took them through the prison entrance, he had to disable the guards and get through the door before someone locked it from the inside. Finishing his mental preparation, he took a deep breath and promptly slumped onto the desk and started to snore. The guard next to him cursed and tried to pull him off Dumont’s desk while Dumont yelled at a few other guards to get him into the shackles.

  Right at the moment that the man yanked on his shoulder, Taryn leaned back and smashed his head into the guard’s face. Maintaining the act, he flailed around in a seeming half-conscious stupor. As more guards jumped forward in an attempt to restrain him, he spun around and smashed his fists into faces. Guard after guard slumped to the ground, knocked out by subtly precise hits. It didn’t take long for Dumont to realize that this was no ordinary prisoner. Seeing the recognition light the guard captain’s eyes, Taryn threw off the smelly cloak and kicked the oak desk as hard as he could at the exact same moment that Dumont began shouting.

  Whatever he was about to say never got out, because the heavy desk clipped him, knocking him down as it flew across the room and shattered against the open strongdoor. The force of it blasting apart was so great that most of the guards along the back wall went down with it. Pieces of wood and kindling exploded around the room as everyone, including Taryn, ducked to avoid the wooden shards that ended up sticking into walls or knocking over men that didn’t dive for cover.

  While everyone froze in shock, Taryn was a blur of motion the instant wood stopped flying. Darting around the room he delivered quick, well-placed blows to the guards’ temples, kidneys, necks, or anything else available, knocking them out before they could recover from the shattered desk. As he swept through the room in a controlled whirlwind, he was careful to keep an eye on the strongdoor. As long as it remained open, he could continue knocking out the entrance guards.

  In a matter of seconds, most of the men were incapacitated by the desk or Taryn’s fists. Only four guards were able to recover enough to present a united defense before he could get to them. Three of them drew their swords and advanced towards him while the fourth dashed behind them towards the jail door. To complicate the situation, Taryn could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs from the inside of the jail. He only had a matter of moments to deal with the crisis before either the guards from inside or the one running towards the door could lock him out.

  Taking the initiative, he leapt to the right of the three guards and sidestepped a fumbled thrust from the nearest man. Spinning up the sword to gain momentum, he grabbed the guard’s extended sword wrist and a fistful of his tunic. Still spinning, he planted his feet and leaned back. Now continuing to rotate with the guard in his grasp, he stopped hard and heaved the man in the direction of the iron door, leaving his sword in Taryn’s grasp.

  The guard that had been running towards the prison door glanced back at the same moment the flying man’s body collided with him. Yelping in surprise, they both tumbled through the door and crashed into the guard on the stairs. Crashing downward, they ended up in a heap of tangled limbs.

  One of the two remaining guards had looked away to watch the body flying past him, and Taryn didn’t hesitate for a second. Seeing the distracted guard, he flicked his sword tip into the man’s weapon just above the hilt, knocking it flying from his loose grip.

  Then Taryn was forced to leap back to avoid a desperate slash from the last guard, giving the now weaponless man time to recover from his surprise and reach for a stray weapon at his feet. Not wanting to lose his advantage, Taryn waited just long enough for the slash to pass his body then darted in behind the swing. The guard tried to reverse the direction of his sword to stop him, but Taryn reversed his own sword to rest along his forearm and deflected the strike.

  Still moving forward, he took his sword hilt and smashed it into the guard’s face while the man was still struggling to bring his weapon back into play. As the man collapsed, Taryn turned towards the one picking up a sword and kneed him in the face before he could fully stand up.

  By the time their unconscious forms had hit the ground, Taryn was through the strongdoor, landing lightly on the stairs. He needn’t have worried. By the bumps, it looked like two of the guards had hit their heads and the only conscious one had been pinned underneath the others. Struggling with all his might to free himself, the trapped guard didn’t see Taryn until he felt the sword tip at his throat. The man wilted instantly.

  “Please don’t kill me,” he pleaded.

  Looking stern, Taryn spoke quickly, knowing he didn’t have much time. “I won’t harm you if you do exactly what
I say.” When the man nodded he said, “For the moment stay still and quiet. I'll be right back.”

  He turned and ran back up the stairs to the entrance room. Dashing to the front door he locked it, and while he listened for any commotion outside he began checking the still forms. Rezko had made it clear that they shouldn’t kill any guards unless in the most dire of circumstances. Worried by how hard he’d kicked the desk, he checked Dumont first. Although he boasted a large lump growing on his head and what was sure to be a wicked bruise on his chest from where the desk had hit him, he was alive. Taryn breathed a sigh of relief and turned to check the others.

  As he hurried through the room, he felt a twinge of guilt for the destruction he’d caused. He’d never had a need to use his full strength on anything, so seeing the desk burst apart had been a complete surprise. Then a thought struck him, causing him to pause. Where did his strength come from? It didn’t come from training, so it naturally came from his heritage, but who in his lineage had such strength? Elves and humans did not possess such strength . . .?

  Without time to consider it, he pushed the thought aside and finished checking the room before entering the jail, locking the iron door behind him and jamming a couple pieces of wood underneath it for good measure. Less than ten minutes had elapsed since he’d first entered the room until he locked the prison door behind him.

  A rush of elation burst over him as he realized he’d managed to get past the first part. Until now, he wouldn’t have admitted to anyone that he had doubted their plan’s chances of success. Struggling to control his sense of triumph, he reminded himself that he wasn’t out of danger yet, and with an effort, took a deep breath to settle his pounding heart.

  Estimating that he was slightly ahead of schedule, he returned to the pinned guard. Taking a moment to check the two men on top of him, Taryn removed all three weapons while the man was still trapped. Sliding the two unconscious guards off of him, he warily helped him to his feet.