“Hello, sirs.” Parker said to the two men.
“Names and your business at the citadel.” The scribe said, holding his pen ready.
Parker smiled, ready with his practiced response. “Parker Tannis, Benedict Hedding, and Brock Takkins. We are new clerks from Wayport, come to learn how things are done here at the capital.”
The scribe jotted down information on the clipboard, his tongue sliding back and forth across his lip as he wrote. When he nodded, the guard waved them in.
They crossed an open plaza that was occupied by statues and sculpted shrubs. Brock found that his nerves were getting the better of him, leaving his armpits damp though it was a cool morning.
Parker appeared confident as he led them toward the large building in the center of the complex. As they approached, Brock admired the row of high arches at the front, supported by rounded alabaster pillars. Following another group with similar cloaks, they climbed another set of stairs and passed under the arches.
A set of double-doors led them from the exterior hall into the spacious main hall. A fountain in the heart of the open space ran freely, flowing around a tall statue of Issal. Terraces high above overlooked the hall, illuminated by sunlight pouring through the glass-paneled ceiling four stories above. People scurried about, with many disappearing down hallways at the far corners of the room as they headed toward other parts of the building.
Rather than walking across the open hall, Parker made a sharp right toward a narrow stairwell with Brock and Benny a step behind. A quick descent brought them to a level with branching corridors, dark but for the pale blue light emitted by glowlamps mounted to the wall at wide intervals. Parker followed the central corridor, not slowing as he spoke over his shoulder.
“There’s supposed to be another stairwell leading downward from this level. That’s what we’re looking for.”
Closed doors lined the corridor, leaving Brock wondering which door hid the stairwell they were seeking.
“Do you know where you’re going, Parker?” Brock asked. “How do you know it’s not one of these doors?”
Parker turned toward Brock as he gestured toward the nearest door. “These rooms are apartments for the clerks. They tend to work long hours and often sleep down here rather than commuting.” He pointed ahead. “We need to reach the older part of the keep, beneath the heart of the citadel. Once we get there, we’ll start checking doors.”
Brock nodded and followed as Parker led them down the corridor. The hallway soon came to a short flight of stairs, bringing them down a half-level. At the foot of the stairs, the walls dropped away to leave a large open space filled with desks, some of which were occupied by clerks already busy writing under the dim nimbus of a glowlamp. The scattered lamps in the large dark space gave an illusion that the desks were floating in space.
Feeling self-conscious, Brock tried to appear nonchalant as he followed Parker across the room to the hallway at the other end. They entered the dark hallway, which terminated at a pair of double-doors. Parker paused at the doors, looking back at Brock before he pushed one open.
A slight creak echoed as they stepped through and into the dark space beyond. The door closed behind Benny, leaving them blind with no lamps lighting the way.
Benny grabbed Parker’s arm. “Wait a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Without pause, Benny slipped through the door they had just entered. Blind in the pitch darkness surrounding him, the thumping of Brock’s pulse sounded in his ears as he anxiously waited for Benny’s return. Moments later, the door opened, and Benny stepped through with the soft blue light of a glowlamp in each hand. He passed one lamp to Parker, who nodded. Shaking it briskly to increase the light, he headed down the corridor. Brock slipped behind Parker with Benny and the other lamp trailing.
“The stairwell should be somewhere near here,” Parker said quietly.
“I’ve an idea,” Benny said.
Benny tapped his lamp against the stone block wall, the clink of the glass on the rock echoing in the corridor. He did it again, harder. The third time, the glass broke, sending sharp shards tumbling to the floor while the base of the lamp remained in Benny’s hand.
“Do you have to be so loud?” Parker asked in a whisper.
“Sorry,” Benny said. “I need the powder from inside the lamp.”
“What?” Parker asked.
Benny smiled, rocking his shoulders. “You’ll see.”
Benny walked past Parker to the first hallway door. He poured just a bit of glowing powder out. When the powder settled on the floor at the bottom of the door, Benny shook his head and moved on.
He repeated this process at each door they passed before moving on. Parker and Brock watched in confusion, following along. Just when Brock had enough of Benny’s quirky behavior, something changed. Nine doors in, the powder dropping to the floor disappeared through the gap under the door.
Benny looked at Brock, smiling. “This should be it.”
He squeezed the handle and opened the door. Sure enough, there was a dark stairwell leading downward.
Parker passed Benny, patting him on the shoulder. “Good job, Benny.”
Brock gave Benny a quick hug. “I knew those brains would come in handy.”
The light from Parker’s lamp was a beacon that Brock followed down into the darkness. The dampness of the air increased noticeably as they descended. The dark stone of the walls was now a different material, appearing to be of older construction than the structure above. He counted the stairs during their descent, which totaled thirty-two steps. They walked down the dark hall at the foot of the stairwell and found themselves before a set of heavy double-doors.
Parker stopped at the doors, glancing backward. Brock could feel a tension as he sensed something beyond the closed doors. A feeling of trepidation washed over him, causing his stomach to twist in anxiety. Just as he was about to tell him to wait, Parker pushed the door open and entered the room beyond.
The musty air thickened further beyond the heavy door. Parker held the glowlamp higher so they could better inspect their surroundings. Broken relics occupied the room, covered by cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. Though the sense of trouble still lurked within, Brock felt a spark of hope. The throne might be among this refuse.
Brock and Benny followed as Parker advanced, weaving his way down the aisle before them. Brock’s eyes scanned objects as they passed, finding an ornate wardrobe with a broken door, an unloaded ballista, an odd glass sphere mounted upon a pedestal, a large chest with a rusted lock, and other assorted objects along to the right side of the aisle.
As Brock turned toward the opposite side of the room, he noticed a faint light beyond a set of double doors that stood partially open. Reaching out, he grabbed Parker’s shoulder and pulled him to a halt.
“What’s that ahead?” Brock whispered, pointing toward the doorway.
When the light grew brighter, a shock of ice-cold fear wiggled down Brock’s spine. A moment later, a glowlamp entered the room, held by a familiar face.
“Father? Why are you down here?” Parker asked.
As guards began to follow the man through the doorway, the cause for the dread Brock felt was realized.
“I’m doing what I must, son,” Cedric replied.
A dozen armed guards fanned out to the sides of the man, some drawing swords. A female guard holding a glowlamp entered the room, accompanied by a man dressed in gold-embroidered white clothing and a shimmering gold cloak. The woman was tall, perhaps the tallest woman Brock had ever seen. Her muscled arms were bare from her padded shoulders to the metal-plated bracers strapped to her forearms. The cloaked man stood taller than the woman, perhaps even taller than Cam. Gray peppered the man’s black hair, including the short-trimmed goatee that framed his grim smile.
Parker’s father spoke again. “Don’t bother trying to run, Parker. We’ve got men posted in the corridor above the stairwell behind you.” His expression was firm, harsh. “You’re little quest is
over.”
“Please, sir,” Brock pleaded. “We just wanted to find the Emblem Throne and retrieve something hidden inside it. We meant no harm.”
The man in the gold cloak laughed. “The Emblem Throne?” He turned to Parker’s father. “You were correct, Cedric. A fanciful quest indeed.” The man’s gaze fell back on Brock. “The Emblem Throne is a myth, merely existing in the words of a children’s song. Even if it were real, the Kings of Kalimar never lived in Sol Polis. Sol Limar was the capital back then. Not only are you idiots to believe in such a stupid quest, but you went to the wrong city!”
The man laughed again. It was not a pleasant sound. As the man’s words sunk in, Brock realized that he had led his friends into a trap and they weren’t even in the right city. The trust that they had put in him now felt unjustified, sending a wave of guilt to wash over him.
As the laughter died down, Cedric pointed toward Brock. “That’s him, Archon.”
Another dagger of dread thrust through Brock when he realized whom he faced.
Archon Ringholdt smiled, nodding. “Very good, Cedric. Very good.” The man stepped closer, his intimidating female bodyguard mimicking him. “You may have fooled the Academy, but you can’t fool me, you little bastard. I know you murdered my son.”
Any shred of hope remaining within Brock instantly evaporated.
The Archon’s arm extended and he pointed toward Brock. “Arrest them.”
The guards advanced to surround the boys. Without any weapons nor a plan as to how Chaos might help him, Brock gave no resistance when the men grabbed his arms. Ringholdt stepped closer, stopping just a stride away from Brock.
“Even if I can’t officially charge you with murder, I’ve caught you trespassing in the citadel. To do so while I am here can be construed as an attempt on my life, which is an act of treason.” A smug smile crossed the tall man’s face, reminding Brock of Corbin. “The penalty for treason is death.”
“Father, how could you?” Parker pleaded.
Ringholdt glanced toward Parker. “Don’t worry lad, your father has negotiated your safe release. Of course, that release will not occur until you’ve been escorted back to the Academy to complete your training.” Ringholdt glanced back at Parker’s father. “Cedric has assured me that you were manipulated into some fanciful quest. He’s convinced me that once you are away from these bad influences, you’ll become yourself again and will focus on your studies and career.”
The tall man’s gaze shifted, looking down at Brock with contempt. His dark eyes narrowed and he reached toward the bandage around Brock’s forehead. With a quick yank, he tore it off.
Ringholdt’s eyes grew wide, gasping as he stepped backward. “That rune! It can’t be!”
His look of shock evolved to one of rage.
“Take them to the dungeon. The others will be there shortly.”
He turned to leave, stopping beside Parker’s father. “Arrange for your son to be taken to Wayport. See that he is away no later than tomorrow. The others are to be executed for treason.”
The man stormed out the door, his gold cloak billowing behind him as the woman with the glowlamp quickly followed.
“Why, Father?” Parker pleaded.
Cedric looked grim as he stepped closer. “I’ll not have you throw your life away for nothing. You’re going back to Academy to complete your training. These others who you call friends are nothing but a distraction. They don’t care about you or what’s best for you. If they did, they wouldn’t have lured you here in the first place.”
Tears streamed down Parker’s cheeks. “I can’t believe that you betrayed me, Father.”
“You betrayed me first, son,” Cedric sneered. He turned, addressing the guards. “Take them to the dungeon.”
CHAPTER 37
Rough hands pulled Brock down the dark corridor, gripping his upper arms hard enough to leave bruises. Brock’s mind was elsewhere, trying to grasp the gravity of the situation. A pang of fear twisted within when he realized that Ashland and the others were in danger. He closed his eyes and reached out to warn her. Ashland responded that he was too late. The city guards had rushed the house moments before and shackled his companions after a brief, but violent struggle.
He opened his eyes, trying to keep his bearings. They turned down another hallway, which brought them to a door that opened into a dark room with a single glowlamp upon the desk in the corner. Heavy wooden doors lined the otherwise barren brick walls.
A mountain of a man with a thick brown beard waited within the room, leaning against the desk as he twirled a ring of keys around one finger. With a grunt, the man stood upright and stepped to one of the closed doors. After unlocking it, he stepped aside, and the guards holding Brock violently shoved him into the dark cell. Stumbling, Brock reached out to brace himself as he collided with the cold stone wall. He spun about as the door slammed shut, the sound feeling like a thunderclap in the small cell. He heard the key sliding into the lock, followed by the click of the lock engaging. The subtle sound of the lock felt as ominous as the door slamming shut.
Brock put his face against the barred opening in the door, which was slightly larger than his head. Guards rudely shoved Benny and Parker into neighboring cells and locked them within. The guards who had been their escort departed, leaving the large one with the keys behind. The man walked back to the desk, plopped down into the wooden chair and crossed his feet upon the desk.
For a while, Brock heard nothing but his own breathing. He swallowed hard, his mind churning as he contemplated his options. Approaching footsteps soon drew his attention to the doorway to the corridor outside. The sound grew louder until another group of guards emerged and shoved Cameron through the doorway. Brock’s tall friend had a black eye and a split lip. They unshackled his hands from behind his back and pushed him into a dark cell.
Each of Brock’s companions was ushered through the room and locked into his or her own cell. Brock searched each familiar face to see if they were okay. Similar to Cam, both Lars and Puri were bound in shackles until they were within their cell. Lars had a lump on his head while Puri had a hastily bandaged gash on her upper arm. Tipper and Libby both looked shaken, but they were unharmed and unshackled.
For a moment, Brock thought that Ashland wasn’t among them and feared that something had happened to her. A wave of relief hit when she passed through the door and appeared unharmed. Her eyes searched the room, meeting his for a moment before the guards pushed her into a cell and locked the door. With all the prisoners locked away, the guards filed out the door, again leaving the keeper of the keys behind.
As the man reclaimed his seat behind the desk, Brock turned from the door. Sitting upon the low pallet that was to be his bed, Brock put his mind to the task of escaping.
. . .
Are you sure you want to do this? Brock asked.
Yes. It’s the only way to ensure our escape without killing the man or having him call for help, Ashland replied.
Brock closed his eyes, drawing in as much Chaos as possible before opening them and pouring it into the rune.
Okay. I’m ready. Do it now, Brock sent before he opened his eyes and listened.
“Hey, big guy!” Ashland’s voice called out. “Can you come here?”
Brock stepped to his cell door and peered through the bars. The recent shift change resulted in a different guard now on duty. Surprisingly, this man was even bigger than the last.
The guard stopped eating his meal, rose to his feet, and approached the door to Ashland’s cell.
“What do you want?” the man asked.
“I’m so hungry. If you give me some of your food, I’ll give you something in return,” she replied.
“What could you give me?”
Ashland responded, “Does this give you any ideas?”
The guard smiled as he looked through the bars into Ashland’s cell.
“Very nice,” the big man nodded. “But how do I know you’re not just trying to escape?�
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Ashland’s voice came from the cell again. “Here. I’ll turn my back and you can shackle me when you come in. You just have to promise me some of your food when you’re finished.”
Brock heard the jingling of keys as the man unlocked the cell door. When the guard stepped inside her cell, Brock tried to remain calm. Seconds passed, which felt like hours, until he heard Ashland. Okay, Hurry!
He thrust his hands against the door with Chaos-enhanced Power. The door burst from the opening, spraying splinters in all directions as it slammed into the opposite wall.
“What was that?” the guard exclaimed.
Brock darted into the cell, sweeping the man aside. Though the man was twice Brock’s size, he slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Ashland’s back was facing him, her wrists shackled behind her. Brock bent to retrieve the man’s ring of keys. Trying to be as gentle as possible, he used the smallest key to unlock Ashland’s wrist. As the shackles fell to the floor, she spun to hug him. Not wishing to injure her with his chaotic strength, he kept his arms to the side. After a moment, she loosened her arms and gave him a smile. He returned the smile, relieved that she was okay. She stepped back and his smile grew wider, seeing her in her shift.
“The man was right.” Brock nodded, grinning. “Very nice indeed.”
She laughed, shaking her head as she pulled her shirt back over her head. “You are so bad, Brock Talenz.”
“Are you guys done with the lovey-dovey yet?” Benny pleaded from his cell. “Some of us would like to get out of here.”
Brock held the keys out to Ashland. “You take these and lock him in here before you free the others. I’ll keep watch until you’re done.”
She nodded and took the keys. Brock crossed the room to the doorway. Peeking his head out, he was relieved to find the corridor empty. He turned back to watch Ashland free the others. Libby ran to Tipper, hugging him fiercely. Benny rocked his elbows in anxiety. Cam and Lars each grabbed a cudgel from the desk, looking ready to use them as needed. Puri appeared ready to eat lightning. Parker’s eyes met Brock’s when he stepped out of his cell.
The Emblem Throne (The Runes of Issalia Book 2) Page 18