The Shattered Shards

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The Shattered Shards Page 34

by Stephen J Wolf


  It took a little time for Kitalla to make the preparations. The hardest part was finding the right color rope that she could conceal along the seams of her uniform without it appearing obvious on quick inspection. She ended up having to dye the rope to match the leather jerkin of the guard, after which she stitched it loosely along the seams of the tunic. She ran the rope up one arm and down her side, around her waist, and then up the other side and down her other arm. The symmetry of it helped make it less conspicuous and, if she kept her hands at her sides, which was mostly required in the job, then no one would see it at all.

  Haasa and Jareesa had the midnight shift. The moon was low and hidden by thick clouds in the distance. The entire castle was tense with word of forces breaking through the border defenses. Some scoffed at the mages for their lack of protective ability, despite their use of the border guardians, but others were edgy for fear their land would soon be invaded in earnest. Haasa grew nervous like all the others and Kitalla played along and added to some of the disquiet. Haasa was so upset at times that she seemed to forget that Kitalla wasn’t actually Jareesa, which Kitalla used to her advantage.

  “What if some crazy person gets in and tries to kill people?” Haasa asked that night, while they paced the wall.

  “I know,” Kitalla said with a tremor. “It’s a scary thought, really, especially with some the guards off celebrating. But it’s a good thing we’re up here to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, Jareesa. I couldn’t have imagined if we had been separated.” Then she remembered. “Oh, well, you know what I mean, Jareesa.”

  “Of course I know,” Kitalla snapped in Jareesa form, “we’ve been friends for so long.”

  “You’re right.” Haasa nodded, stopped, then laughed to herself.

  Before Haasa could admit she was growing to like the new Jareesa, Kitalla pointed out in the distance. “Do you see something out there, Haasa?”

  Panicked, the woman looked, squinting hard and trying to find the disturbance. There was some darkness fluttering around out there, but whether it was invaders, shadows, or feral creatures, she couldn’t tell. “I—I don’t know.”

  “Do you think I should report it? ‘Anything suspicious’ right? Or do you want to do it?”

  Haasa was a bit afraid of their captain, despite her willingness to cover for Jareesa, and she didn’t want to face a reprimand if raising an alert led to wasted time. “Um, why don’t you go?”

  Kitalla hesitated as if she didn’t want to go. “What if I’m wrong? Worse yet,” she added with a whisper, “what if she recognizes that I’m not Jareesa?”

  Haasa’s face went white, and Kitalla could see it clearly even in the darkness. “I—” but she didn’t say more than that.

  “Oh never mind, I’ll just go do it,” she snapped slightly. “You wait here and keep a lookout just in case.”

  “A—Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. She probably wouldn’t know me from a bucket anyway.” That made Haasa chuckle and relax, after which Kitalla stalked off with no intention of actually alerting anyone of anything, especially not wind in the distance blowing over the sand.

  Three doors, two hallways, and a set of stairs flew under her feet as she went. Eventually she came across another sentry who asked her business being there. “Nature calls,” she answered him, pointing off toward the middens. He shrugged and continued gazing out at the stars.

  Once she turned the corner, Kitalla vanished into the shadows. She slid behind tapestries when she had to or ducked into archways, mimicking statues or suits of armor. She eluded several other guards, some of whom were roaming sentries and others who were posted outside specific doorways. Kitalla checked her mental map of the castle grounds and decided it was time to head down one floor. But she also knew there wasn’t a floor beneath her, which was why she needed that concealed rope.

  With a few tugs, the loose threading gave way and released the rope from her tunic. She secured it along a shadowy parapet and then slid down the side of the castle onto the rooftop below. It wasn’t easy hiding from some of the guards, but she had chosen tonight for this adventure because of a recent wine shipment that had come in. Everyone had talked about its upcoming arrival and the revelry that always ensued on the night of opening the crates, and she wasn’t disappointed. Some of the crates were scattered even here and she found refuge behind them as needed. But also, it was the upper echelon of the guard that was invited to partake of the goods, and though a number of those more elite guards were still on duty, several had earned the right to join the festivities.

  Kitalla worked her way through the secondary kitchen and into the rooms beyond. There weren’t many more places left to go before reaching her destination. This area was established for the king’s private quarters. The small kitchen was set up for personal snacks among the king’s family and closest advisors. Soon, she would be near the king’s chambers and her goal.

  Kitalla kept alert for hidden guards or traps. There had to be some protections in place and they had been scarce so far. She worried that she was going to miss something, so she focused her eyes more sharply and she drew a steadying breath, reaching for the metal jade and its support, forgetting for a moment that it was no longer with her. She had hoped it would help her sense anything amiss, but she was truly on her own now. It didn’t matter, she reminded herself; she had survived worse.

  Creeping forward, she heard a soothing voice not too far away. It was a woman singing softly in the night. The melody was pleasant and sounded oddly familiar to her, though she couldn’t place it at the moment and didn’t want to, either; not until she was safely away. As she crept past the room, the words and melody permeated through her and burned themselves into her ears.

  Rest now my child.

  You will be strong.

  Rest now my child.

  You will one day be grand.

  It was beautifully sung and held such deep love. She could remember someone humming it, but right now she couldn’t recall who had hummed it, just that it wasn’t Randler. Kitalla shook her head; if she didn’t remain focused right now, she would be caught and killed for treason. There wasn’t much more distance to cover.

  She kept low as she passed the singer’s door so as not to be seen. As she went she could hear the soft crooning of a happy baby in the room, and Kitalla realized suddenly that it must be the queen and her child in there. She stood up on the other side of the door and peered in, but all she could see was a woman leaning over a crib and a strong man standing with her, his hand on her back. Apparently, the king was there as well. Other movement within the chamber alerted her to guards who were with them.

  The thief kicked into action. She made her way down the hall and burst into a room near the end of the hallway that had a crest carved on the doorway. The room was not empty. Four guards staggered for a moment at the intrusion but quickly realized what was happening and attacked.

  Kitalla dodged a spear that lunged for her as she rolled aside and crashed purposely into another guard while also shoving the door closed. She grabbed the sword that fell from the man’s hand and threw it across the way toward another guard, who interrupted his charge and batted it aside. The fourth guard drew a breath to sound the alarm but Kitalla pulled off her bowl-like helmet and threw it at him like a disc, cracking his jaw. She then pulled a dagger that was wound in her hair under the helmet and drew another from her boot before rolling forward and defeating the spear-wielding guard.

  As his body crashed with an echoing thud, Kitalla realized that the sound would alert any other nearby guards even without a call to arms. She couldn’t penetrate the iron armor of these soldiers, but her daggers worked well enough against their faces. Two of them rushed her, hoping to grab her, but she crouched down low and then pounced up as they drew near, making it impossible for them to nab her. She thrust one dagger upward into the back of one man’s neck, killing him instantly, but she couldn’t do the same for the next guard b
ecause a small fireball lashed out at her and knocked her over.

  So, one of them was a mage, she thought to herself. It didn’t change much of her strategy, though. She realized that the man who had received a beating from her helmet was launching another spell, so she pounced at him and tackled him, bringing up her knee sharply between his legs and disabling him for a moment. The other guard had recovered and ran toward Kitalla with a battle cry, bringing his sword down onto Kitalla’s back, but she rolled aside at the last moment and the guard pierced his sword through the mage’s armor, killing him. Kitalla pulled off the swordsman’s helmet and cracked his temple with the hilt of a dagger, knocking him unconscious.

  She didn’t have much time, but she didn’t need it either. The chamber was beautifully furnished, and though there could be many hiding places, only one made sense to her. She jumped onto the king’s bed and rifled through the drawers of one side table, finding only lavish bits of jewelry and an ornate comb. She rolled over to the other side of the bed and ransacked the drawers, finding the object she was looking for and taking it.

  Noises filled the hallway and she knew others were coming. There were no windows in this room, presumably to keep the king safe, but there had to be an escape passage. No king would allow himself to be trapped in a dead-end room all night. Kitalla pictured the layout of the castle in her mind, which wasn’t easy to do with the impending doom, and decided that the passage had to be on the side wall that was nearest the king’s side of the bed.

  She ripped down the tapestry and tapped on the stone frantically, hoping a loose brick would move or something, then she shoved aside the low reading table that was there and saw one part of the wall that was slightly different from the rest. She dropped down and pushed the brick inward. It slid back but that didn’t open the doorway. She didn’t care; Grenthar hadn’t always made his escapes easy either. She felt inside the hole and found the catch, popping it and feeling something smash onto her finger. She recoiled for a moment but ignored the sensation, seeing that the seam in the wall was more pronounced. With a heavy shove, the door opened, but so did the door from the hallway. Guards poured into the room as she made her escape.

  There wasn’t a long hallway to follow, only a doorway that was as thick as the castle wall itself. Kitalla went through, and then pushed the door back into place until it snapped shut, which would force the guards to unlock it on their end. She looked around, pleased with herself, for she had correctly identified the escape route. Over toward her right side, hidden in shadows, was the rope she had used to climb down the wall. Sprinting to it, Kitalla leaped and ascended the rope as nimbly as she could. She crested the wall, pulling the cord up and tossing it aside. With a light jog, she hurried back through the corridors and found the castle on alert.

  She made her way to Haasa, who was pacing feverishly. “Jareesa!” she cried out in relief. “Hurry up!”

  “Where are we going?” Kitalla asked. “And where is the captain? I couldn’t find her anywhere!”

  “It seems you were right! There was something out there and it snuck into the castle. We have to help.” She ran and Kitalla followed, still massaging her finger. She looked down and saw a small cut. Something had fallen on it when she had released the catch. Hoping the mechanism had only broken and wasn’t poisoned, she continued on.

  “Halt!” cried out a sharp, steel voice. It was the captain.

  Haasa whimpered and stopped running.

  “Where do you think you’re running off to?”

  “To help!” Haasa replied sheepishly. “We’re answering the call to arms!”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed but then softened. “Back to your posts, you fools.”

  Kitalla decided to play Jareesa’s part in force. “But there is a call to arms. Aren’t we charged with defending our king? What good are we pissing on the walls?”

  “You will follow orders. Return to your posts.”

  Kitalla made as if to protest, but Haasa grabbed her, “Jareesa, no! Let’s go.”

  They made their way back to the wall and once they were there Kitalla decided to complain. “She thinks we’re not good enough to protect the king?”

  “I don’t… think so. No, it’s—” she stopped and then realization came over her. “No, I remember now. Don’t you, Jareesa? If we were on our old post then we would have gone in too, but this new post means we have to stay on the wall. I forgot all about that.”

  Of course Kitalla had remembered that. It was one of the delightful things that had changed when they were given this new position. Rather, one of the demotions. It had also allowed Kitalla the opportunity to carry out her little scheme because she was supposed to remain at the wall, watching for intruders, not rushing in to the castle for any reason. Luckily, Haasa wasn’t particularly bright and never questioned Kitalla’s absence amidst all the confusion.

  Things hadn’t gotten easier after that day. There was some disturbance at Magehaven and they had requested assistance from the king. Grudgingly, he sent a battalion to the tower, but like the king of Kallisor, he only commissioned his lower guards to leave the castle, keeping the stronger forces at home. Thus, Kitalla, Haasa, and a number of others were currently en route to offer support to the mages.

  Kitalla’s watch was almost up. She shook her head at the turn of events and then looked over the group of men and women she was traveling with. The sleepers were still dreaming, but soon it would be her turn for a break. She woke Haasa up to take over the watch. Dutifully, Jareesa’s friend agreed, and Kitalla pulled out her blanket and rolled up in it.

  As she did so, she tucked her head under the cover and pulled something from her pocket, partly to ensure it was still there, but also to look at it in amazement. In just a few days she had turned her back on her friends, abandoning the quest for the jades, and now she had infiltrated the king’s own bedchamber and stolen the one jade he had in his possession, the jade of fire. And with this journey back to the tower, soon they would all be reunited.

  Trying carefully not to snicker, Kitalla placed the fire jade back into its pocket and then went to sleep. The tower was only a day or so away.

  Chapter 28

  Ervinor of the

  Kallisorian Army

  The castle town of Hathreneir faced a darkened day. The sun beaming down from above did not illuminate the land as it should, for tensions were high and the people looked around nervously for shadows that might jump at them.

  The war had already been raging for some months and the citizens felt the drain on their resources. Merchant caravans arrived with fewer wares for the populace, as most of the quality goods were brought directly to the king. Guard patrols were staggered through the town on a purposely erratic schedule, so that thieves could not track the guards’ paths and undermine their attempts at maintaining order. Food supplies were rationed out, though a surplus still allowed people to purchase in excess of their individual needs, but products with longer shelf lives were sold in limited quantities. The older citizens read the signs that the king expected a siege sometime soon.

  As the months carried on, new recruits from neighboring towns had been ushered into the castle proper for military training. Many of these younger men and women made up the town patrols and wall guards, and their lack of true experience did little to calm the populace. Though it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to see Kallisorian forces marching across the land, it would take a more practiced eye to spot a scouting party, and such knowledge could be the deciding factor in a battle.

  Additionally, recent events at Magehaven had demanded a host of guardsmen to vacate the castle and offer assistance with some unknown trouble. It wasn’t unheard of for the mages to request the help of the king’s forces, but with all the other cards in play, losing any fighters for any reason made people even more uncomfortable.

  And then there was the arrival of the small Kallisorian army.

  The force was comprised of roughly a hundred men and women, but the people saw that villager
s of Marritosh had joined their ranks and the fighters were equipped with magic-shielding armor. Clearly, something terrible was on the horizon and the people were afraid.

  Ervinor watched as Gabrion entered the castle with Quereth, Morrish, and the king’s page, and he worried that he would never see Gabrion again. It was irrational, he knew, but he worried all the same.

  Fretting wouldn’t help them to be ready for an attack, however. So, Ervinor set himself in motion. The army had dispersed among the nearby vendors in small packs so they wouldn’t look so imposing to the people. After all, if they had a chance to deal peacefully, all the better.

  He noticed that the Kallisorians kept an eye toward him, waiting for any signal from him. It was almost amusing that he would be at the head of the army, second only to the companions of the jade themselves. He was only twenty-two, average looking, and with a standard childhood. He didn’t think he was particularly special or that he should command such respect from these people. But the more he thought about it, the more it made some sense to him.

  Ervinor had grown up in Beltriss, which was to the southeast of Kallisor castle. His parents had taught him well from all the old stories that had been passed down through the generations, and his dislike for the Hathrens was the same as all the villagers he grew up with. The folks ensured that he was well-versed in lore and they trained him to fight so he could always defend himself. Yet his childhood was not filled only with war and anger. There were many times his family and friends were together laughing wildly at some jester or at the town play or during an afternoon picnic. His life was richer than most, and not because of money.

 

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