by Robert Ryan
Things must have been subdued after the Raithlin had left. But now word was spreading of a new Raithlin in the city, and the Witch-queen’s efforts to find him. That had reawakened their spirit. He just hoped that it did not get them killed.
Something made him suddenly wary, and he slowed and placed himself in front of Erlissa. For a few moments, he stood still and silent. Nothing happened. And then he caught the glint of naked steel.
A group of three men emerged from the shadows. They had heard him and Erlissa coming, perhaps were even waiting here for victims. There was no doubt that they were thieves. And yet they were not prepared for a man with his sword already drawn. A man who stood his ground, without sign of fear, and that was ready for them.
They exchanged glances among themselves. Dim figures in the shadows though they were, he read the will to attack in them. But doubt vied with it.
He continued to gaze at them coolly, saying nothing, but regarding them with indifference. That made a greater statement than any words he could say.
The long moments passed, and then the group lost their nerve. This was too risky for them. It was something beyond the usual, and their knives were no match for a sword, though they held three blades to his one.
The men backed away, and then hastened down the street. Lanrik watched them until they were out of sight. And then he listened carefully. He heard their steps break into a full run.
Erlissa chuckled. “I’d have run too, had the look on your face been directed at me.”
“What look?”
“The one that said, I don’t care if you live or die. I just don’t want to nick my sword on your bones.”
Lanrik grinned in the dark. “That’s a useful look to have. Sometimes it saves a lot of problems.”
They moved ahead. The streets grew wider once more, and people were more frequent. But it was an eerie night, as though the city was waiting for something. Lanrik did not like it. It only added to the pressure, for what they must soon attempt was so dangerous, so filled with risk and the potential for disaster, that his nerves were already on edge.
He concentrated instead on the intended result. If they were successful, they would have the one thing that even Aranloth dared not hope for. The Lindrath. His information about the city and the Witch-queen would be priceless. And that did not even take into account the personal side of things. The Lindrath was good man, a man who had tutored him, taught him, guided him like a father, and been there for him through many troubles. He was the closest thing that Lanrik had to family, saving his uncle. And during much of the time that he had known the Lindrath, he had thought his uncle was dead.
Lanrik put these thoughts from his mind as well. He must think only of the task ahead, and how best to perform it, rather than the possible consequences.
They went as close as they could to the park before they stepped out onto the Hainer Lon. Just before they did, he paused for a moment.
“Are you sure you want to do this? There’s no backing out once we start.”
“I’m sure. If things go wrong – they go wrong.”
He looked at her a while, and she returned his gaze. There was no other like her in all Esgallien. Perhaps all Alithoras. She had courage, intelligence, determination. She wielded power that he could not quite comprehend, and her strength was increasing month by month. She was little more than a lòhren in training, and yet she already had her staff, and the land had called upon her, put her through enormous trials, and she had come out the other end. Truly, she was one of a kind, and he would rather face trouble with her than anyone else that he knew.
He winked at her. “To luck,” he said.
She winked back. “To luck.”
They moved along the Hainer Lon. The park was on their right now, the ring of soldiers still there, lining the way and continuing into the darkness.
Lanrik stayed in the shadows as long as he could, but when he saw what he wanted, a captain of the Royal Guard inspecting the line, the time had come.
He stepped out into the light, Erlissa by his side, and walked straight toward the man. He made no effort to conceal himself, or to draw a weapon. His mission tonight was one of words. They were his weapon. They would see him win or lose the quest.
Surprisingly, they reached the captain without being challenged. Neither he nor the soldiers paid them any attention.
Lanrik came to a standstill, only a few paces away. Finally, the captain looked at him.
“It’s your lucky night,” Lanrik said.
The captain stared at him blankly at first, and then irritation crossed his face. His gaze shifted to Erlissa, and then back to him. And then the look of irritation swiftly turned to one of wide-eyed fear and excitement.
The man drew his sword. Lanrik stood motionless.
“Good. You know who we are. But you won’t need that. Not if you truly serve Ebona.”
The captain screamed out. “To me! To me!”
The soldiers up and down the line seemed surprised, and he kept on screaming until about thirty of them broke away from their watch and came over.
“It’s them!” the captain yelled.
“Of course it’s us,” Lanrik said. “Who else?”
“Take them!” the captain ordered.
The soldiers hesitated. Some of them had realized who they were, but their heart was not in the pursuit as much as those of the Royal Guard’s. They moved in slowly.
Lanrik drew his sword. The soldiers stilled. Even the captain stopped shouting. A moment Lanrik held it in his hand, and then he casually tossed it to the ground at the man’s feet.
“A sign of goodwill,” he said. “You need no soldiers now. We’re on the same side again.”
“Which side is that?” asked the captain.
“Ebona’s, naturally. We’ve agreed to serve her, and just in time, it appears.”
The soldiers remained still. Lanrik thought that many of them looked at him in disappointment, at least those out of view of the captain.
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Of course. Why else would we come to you? Why else would I disarm myself? Only idiots would do that, unless we were on a mission – one given to us by Ebona herself. One that she is most interested in seeing succeed.”
The captain was not convinced. “Then why isn’t she with you?”
“A good question. You can ask her yourself, if you care to, when she arrives shortly.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s dealing with a little problem at the moment. It seems the lòhren Aranloth is in the city as well. She’ll be along soon to sort all this out.”
“Then we’ll just wait here, all together and nice and cozy, until she does.”
Lanrik raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, that’s fine by me. Although I rather think she might hope to see more progress when she arrives.”
“Progress at what?”
“In capturing the Lindrath, of course. What else did you think this was about?”
“And what can you possibly do that thousands of soldiers couldn’t?”
Lanrik maintained his nonchalant attitude, but his heart raced at the confirmation that the captain had just provided. The Lindrath really was here.
“Tsk, tsk. You really have to ask? I’m not sure Ebona is going to be happy with you.”
“Stop calling her Ebona. She’s the queen.”
“You can call her queen if you like. She’s Ebona to me. I knew her long before she came to the city, you know.”
“Well, you still haven’t answered me. What can you do that an army cannot?”
Lanrik sighed. “For starters, I can get into Conhain’s tomb, the place where he’s hiding. I’m a Raithlin, after all. And I’m his friend besides. I can convince him to come out with me; a thing that you cannot. And I rather think that Ebona would like to see that. She has questions for him.”
“I’m sure she does. So what am I supposed to do? Just let you walk in there and come back with a p
risoner in your own good time?”
Lanrik shook his head. “Of course not. I didn’t really expect you to trust me. But you have my sword. You have us surrounded. Bring as many men as you think you need to ensure your safety, and come along with us. It shouldn’t take too long.”
The captain stared at him. Lanrik read doubt on the man’s face, but he read fear there as well. Fear of Ebona, and having to answer to her if his choices were not in line with her expectations. If he delayed things, it might cost him his life. If he went ahead as suggested, well, what could really go wrong?
The captain came to his decision. He gave orders, and twenty soldiers formed a circle around them.
“Really? Twenty men? Should I be flattered, or insulted?”
“Let’s just get this over with.”
“As you wish.”
Lanrik did not hesitate. He walked into the park, Erlissa by his side, and the twenty-man guard. He felt a pang as he left the sword behind on the grass, but there was no way to take it back. They would not let him, and if he tried, it would make them suspicious. At least this way, unarmed and at their mercy, he had control of the situation. The irony of that thought made him laugh out loud.
“Something amusing?” asked the captain.
“Many things,” replied Lanrik. “Many things. But mostly this: isn’t life strange? Yesterday and today, you were chasing me. But now you give me an honor guard so that I can fulfill Ebona’s greatest desire.”
“It’s not an honor guard!”
“It’s not? Well, if it isn’t now, it will be when she arrives. You won’t want to miss out on being the captain that helped me get her the Lindrath. Not if you ever wish to be more than captain.”
The man did not answer, and Lanrik knew he had him just where he wanted him. He was still suspicious, as any man must be, and yet he now mostly believed the story.
They walked through the park, crossing near the grove of trees where he had seen the fox last night. He wondered where it was. Probably safe and secure somewhere, if he knew foxes.
It was different in the park than in the city. He felt more at home here. It was as though he was in the wilderness, and the park, especially at night, were assets to him. Not so much the soldiers, should it come to a confrontation. His plan hinged on avoiding that, though.
Away in the city he heard a dog bark, and then another. It was not a sound of the wilderness, for where there were no men, there were no dogs. He was more used to the howling of wolves, the yelping of foxes, and the harsh and drawn out hawing of aurochs in the swamps.
Dew wetted the grass, and they left a trail on the lawn that a drunk tracker, wearing a blindfold, could follow. He did not mind. Tonight was not a night for hiding. That was no more his plan than fighting.
They moved toward the center of the park without speaking. Conhain’s tomb was in the monument constructed there. It did not look like a tomb. Nor did it even look like there was any sort of entry to the inside of it. Rather, it looked to be just what everybody thought it was: a monument to the founding of Esgallien. Yet, evidently, it was more than it seemed.
The stars shone palely from above, their brightness diffused by the lights of the city. All was quiet. Nothing stirred. Even here, there was a sense of brooding. He felt prickles on the back of his neck as he sometimes did in the wilderness when there was no one else for hundreds of miles, and yet he had the sense of being watched. He dismissed it. Now was not a time for nerves.
They did not go near the wells that he had used to escape the charred-man, but they passed by the area. They went deeper into the park, where there were several patches of forest, though they did not enter them. Moving between different groves, they came to a gentle slope. They could not see their destination yet, the dark was too deep and the starlight too pale, but at the slope’s crest was the monument.
They were now far enough away from the rest of the city that there barely seemed any noise. They were alone here – he and Erlissa, the one Royal Guard and the twenty soldiers. He looked back at the captain, and saw his unease. And uneasy he should be. He had not quite counted on this. Twenty men had seemed excessive at the Hainer Lon. Not so much now. If it had been possible, he would have brought his own kind, twenty Royal Guards. That made Lanrik grin. The Royal Guards were busy searching the city for him, and consequently spread very thinly through the lines around the park. It was upon that fact that his plan hinged.
The captain stared back hard at him, and he looked away. He was not ready to set things in motion yet. Let the captain grow more nervous, and let the soldiers see what lay ahead.
“There it is,” Erlissa said.
She was right. The monument had come into view. He had seen it many times, but it looked different now. He realized what else it looked like, and it was another confirmation of the information that Erlissa had given him. It was a structure dominated by triangles, that strange architecture favored by the Letharn. He had seen it in their tombs and the building that gave entry to them. Only Aranloth would know, or favor, that style; so it was constructed under his direction. That was the final proof, and he had no doubt that inside the first and greatest king of Esgallien lay buried.
They approached the monument. Just before it was a stone-lined pond, filled with water. A man-high statue rose from its center. It was Conhain, though it was a younger version than what was often seen. Here, he wore no sword and rode no warhorse, but he looked about him, a long-dead sense of wonder on his boyish face. Something about it reminded Lanrik of Aranloth’s statue in Lòrenta.
Unlike the building that the lòhren had used to enter the tombs of the Letharn, this one was not enclosed by walls. Instead, tall pillars held up the massive roof, and the stone floor beneath was open to wind and light, but not rain.
They were close enough now to see the carvings, for the triangular gables and the tall pillars were decorated with images of the great battle that marked the founding of the city. Conhain was there, and his warhorse. And the Red Cloth of Victory. So too Ebona, and her dogs, and the elug army that the first Esgalliens had fought. And there were Raithlin too.
Lanrik’s steps echoed hollowly on the stone floor when he crossed it. The soldiers seemed curious, looking about them at the carved pillars and colored mosaics beneath their feet. Their wide eyes took in a scene that they must have observed many times before, but they viewed things now in the new light that the king, the great king at the heart of everything Esgallien stood for, was buried here.
The captain appeared less impressed. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“I see no tomb here. I see no doors or entryways to anything.”
Erlissa answered him. “It wouldn’t have stayed undiscovered if it showed those things openly. But there is a door.”
She walked to the very center of the floor. Here was a monument within a monument. A square structure stood there, built of stone and intricately carved. It rose ten feet high, and was ten feet wide and long. Yet its top was angled to a point on each side, a top that formed four triangles.
Lanrik smiled. Once again, this was confirmation that they were in the right place. It would have looked right at home anywhere among the old constructions of the Letharn.
Erlissa examined the square structure. The captain, in turn, studied Erlissa. Lanrik knew the time had come to distract him.
“So,” he said. “Has Ebona been good to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you been promoted under her?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“Well, I suppose that’s a yes. You don’t really seem old enough for your rank, though. Or experienced enough, for that matter. But you do seem – how shall I put it, vile enough.”
Some of the soldiers sniggered, and the captain was about to reply, but at just that moment light flashed behind them and a deep tremor thrummed in the stone beneath them.
They all turned to look at Erlissa. She had opened a
door into the square block, and inside, a stairwell led down into the dark.
“Hold on!” the captain said to Lanrik. “What’s she doing? I thought you were the one who knew how to open it?”
Lanrik smiled. “Things are sometimes not as they seem, Captain. For instance, I’m unarmed and at your mercy. But I can still—”
Without warning Lanrik struck. It was a blow so unexpected, so swift and forceful, that his fist against the man’s skull sounded like a whip crack in the park.
The captain, taken by surprise, toppled to the ground. Lanrik had thought it would have taken several punches, but he had the feeling that the captain had never been struck before. He lay on the floor, still and unconscious. When he woke, he would have a headache and a throbbing chin.
Lanrik stepped back a few paces to where Erlissa stood at the entrance of the tomb. The soldiers seemed in shock, not having ever expected this. Some, however, had drawn their swords.
Now was the great gamble, and the crux of Lanrik’s plan. He looked at them.
“Well, men. I’m a Raithlin. Did you really think that I would serve the Witch-queen?”
The soldiers did not answer, but he saw on some faces signs of relief, and that encouraged him. The Raithlin were held in high honor, and he had not disappointed them.
“The Witch-queen rules for now,” he said. “But other forces are at work. The lòhrens have not abandoned Esgallien to her. Nor the Raithlin. In time, she will be overthrown.”
“It doesn’t seem likely,” said one of the men.
“Doesn’t it? Then why is she scared?” Lanrik asked. “Why else would she have so many guard against the escape of the Lindrath?”
He paused. He did not wish to start a debate with them. Instead, he must speak from the heart, and tell them truths.
“The moment of choice for all Esgallien is soon to come,” he continued. “The moment where we must take sides. We must fight for our home. Or we must fight for the Witch-queen. For you, that moment of choice is now.”
He looked around at them. Doubt and confusion filled their faces. And the fear that Ebona had instilled in them.