After a few feet Twello heard muffled sounds and as he came closer the noise became clearer. He could hear screaming and the clatter of weapons. Blinded and on his knees, while using only his hands; he found he couldn’t go any further as the little tunnel ended. It had been closed up. A big rock now lay in front of the opening; however it didn’t cover it completely.
A small beam of light seeped through the gap. It should have been open according to the men who had said it was some sort of ventilation outlet in the other-wise stuffy tower. With his fingers Twello tried to move the heavy rock to the side. Using all his strength he noticed the sounds were becoming louder. The gap had become a little wider and through the crack he could now see what was going on: men fighting, falling and dying in terror. There was no way he could go in there, even if he could manage to move aside the rock completely. He would surely get killed in the fight or…maybe he could use it to his advantage. The men might be too busy to see him. Yes, that was it; the fighting men were a distraction away from him. With new-found energy he pushed and pushed, when suddenly the rock moved to one side and he inched his way through the hole.
Chapter 11 The Wizard
Seeing more clearly now as the room was lit by torchlight, his eyes searched through the huge space. More than ten men were fighting just in front of him while more than a dozen lay dead. A large wooden table had fallen on its side and numerous chairs lay about broken on the floor. The men fought on with a clattering of swords, screaming at each other in the chaos. They were very much like the men that held his parents hostage, Twello noticed. Big brutes who were smelly and noisy. One of the men had wanted to come along with Twello, saying that he didn’t trust the boy with the task. But Twello had sworn to his parents, on his life, that he would come back to them; with the stone. The men would be waiting for him in the woods as they knew that he would return to his parents whether he succeeded or not.
Twello tried not to look at the fighting men and blocked their awful cries of terror from his mind. At the far side of the room, in a corner to his right, away from the men, stood a pure marble white pillar, and on top of it beneath a glass bowl was a dark green gem. Without hesitation he quickly hid behind the fallen table. When he thought the coast was clear he stayed as close to the cold floor as possible, crawling with his tummy touching the floor, and swiftly made his way over to the pillar. He had to crawl over a dead body and standing up he quickly looked back at the men and then at the stone in front of him before lifting the bowl up between his small hands and reaching inside for the precious gem. He was surprised at how little the stone weighed.
He heard an awful deep roar from behind him and felt a dull pain against the side of his head. Dropping to the floor he held on to the gem, his treasure, and he rolled over to see his attacker. A large beast of a man stood over him with the tip of his blade above Twello’s throat.
‘Give that to me boy!’
Twello pressed the gem closely to his chest with terror in his eyes, reluctant to give up his prize, frozen to the ground by fear.
‘Have it your way then!’ the man bellowed, raising his sword. The man’s eyes grew bigger on seeing the green gem suddenly light up. The boy saw it too and his mouth fell open. Suddenly the man’s body shook and his limbs moved like he was dancing; only from the expression on his face it was no dance of joy, but of pain. His jaw was clenched tight as he fought the pain, silently while his eyes bulged with a look of terror and disbelief. With his sword still clutched in his hands and with white knuckles he fell onto his knees beside Twello, eyes wide-open.
Twello moved backwards, keeping the precious stone close to his chest; thinking that it had saved his life! Then he saw another man where the other had just stood seconds before but this young man looked different than all the rest of the ones fighting. He stood there with grace and he seemed better dressed. He also had a different weapon in his hands; a simple iron staff. It still pointed towards the dead man as he eyed the boy up and down with a confused look.
A wizard! the boy thought, they hadn’t told him about that! Ignoring the dull pain in his head he jumped back towards the gap in the wall. But before he could reach it he heard a terrible low sounding noise which caused a deafening pain in his head. He had to cover both his ears with his hands. The stone, which had dimmed in colour by now, dropped to the floor. The boy fell with it, covering the gem with his tiny body as if his life depended on it.
The tall man stood beside him, watching him curiously. He had dropped the iron staff and looked with empathy in his slant green eyes. Eyes as green as the gem but with more depth and golden flecks. His bronze face was narrow and delicate almost like that of a girl, with high cheekbones and fine arched black brows, but his jaw was set in a fine strong masculine line. A black band covered his forehead and part of his ears. A few strands of his long raven hair fell over his headband. He looked more the part of a thief in his tight black clothes and long robe than a brute criminal, like the other men in the room had been; all dead now apart from the boy and the strange man.
The boy crawled on top of the stone with his whole body, clinging to it for dear life, fearing the man and crying silently over his fate.
‘I don’t want to hurt you. All I want is the stone,’ the young man spoke in a soothing calm voice, deeper than Twello had expected.
Their eyes met; the terrified dark blue eyes of the boy and the kind calm but determined eyes of the mysterious man.
‘Please don’t kill me, please don’t!’
The man sighed and knelt by him. The boy jerked away, watching the staff carefully. The man spoke to the boy in a comforting voice, ‘I won’t kill you. I don’t kill small boys. Don’t be afraid. It’s the stone I want, not you.’
Somewhat relieved by this, the boy relaxed a little, still holding on to the stone, sitting upright.
‘Not this one!’
‘Look, boy. It’s not a normal stone. I’ll give you all the gems you want, sparkling and bright just like this one in exchange. Look at me. You know I can.’
Their eyes met and Twello saw sincerity and kindness in them.
‘My name is Shazar, what’s yours?’
A blink of his eyes and a swallow in his throat later the boy yelled, ‘But I need this stone!’
Shazar shook his head. ‘Not you as well?’ And he pressed his lips tightly in thought. ‘Can you walk?’ the mysterious man asked as he examined the boy. Standing up, Twello nodded.
‘Alright, we have to leave now, before more come.’
More? Were there more? Sudden fright again in the boy’s eyes struck the man’s heart and he helped the boy up, who seemed less afraid of him now.
‘Please protect me against them; you will, won’t you?’ He had decided to trust the man. At least he had killed the ‘bad’ men.
Shazar glanced from the boy to the stone and then back. He had no choice.
‘I will, I promise. Now come, stay close to me.’ Grabbing the boy’s hand, they made their way silently through the room into a hallway which smelled of urine. The man walked in front with the iron staff in his free hand carried like a torch.
Shazar wondered how a boy this young; so small and fragile had made his way into this well-guarded place. He had seen him run towards the small gap in the wall; was this the way he had come in? But what about the guards outside? He himself with all his abilities had barely managed to make his way through. And moreover, why would this boy need the stone? What question did he have that needed to be answered? Shazar himself had a very good reason to put himself at risk. But what about the boy?
Rumours brought him to Karashne; a small village by the sea, kept safe by the prophecies of the temple priestess. This priestess was said to have a special stone which helped her establish a link so that she could predict the future and tell the people what they wanted to know; the truth. The stone was called-not very originally-the Truthstone.
Shazar wanted one question to be answered and one only, no more. However, before he could
pay a visit to the priestess, a week before his arrival, she had been kidnapped by bandits and presumed dead by the amount of blood found in her temple, although her body was never found.
The villagers mourned for their priestess but also missed the Truthstone with its helpful guidance. The stone had been in their possession for generations since the first priestess. They called for brave people to come forward to help win back the stone, stolen by the bandits of Malegesch and had raised an army to face the men who had killed the Count of Karashne and inhabited his tower. The army was soon defeated as was the second and the third, leaving the brutal bandits with at least a dozen men remaining. Another army was to be sent a few days later to kill off the last of the bandits and finally take back the stone, but Shazar wanted to obtain the stone for himself, before the army could, even though it was not really his to take. Shazar planned to return the stone to the village once he got his answer. The bandits were surprised he was on his own and were cocky, but soon paid for their mistake…
Shazar needed to concentrate on any sound, any smell; any indication of any men left in the tower. He had no problem with killing for the right cause and this certainly was exactly that, but he would only kill when absolutely necessary; which was debatable of course, for when was killing a necessity? But not for Shazar who had strict rules of his own for that.
As they made their way down through the tower, Shazar suddenly picked up a faint murmur. He stopped and pulled the boy towards him who looked questioningly at him and he urged him up the tower again. They slipped into a narrow side passage and halted in front of a door.
‘Make no sound, you look out that way. If you see or hear anything, call me straight away,’ he whispered and concentrated, closing his eyes for a short moment as he chanted almost soundlessly. ‘Your mind, my mind, your heart, my heart, your strength, mine…’
Shazar put his forehead against the door and his hands. He sensed a human body behind the heavy wooden door and with better ears he heard a soft shallow breathing and even the faint beating of a heart. This person, whoever it was, was wounded. He could have easily have carried on and exited the tower but something in Shazar told him not to. And that instinct was not to be ignored.
Chapter 12 The Once Priestess
A few more chants and Shazar knocked down the door with a single light kick of his foot. The frame cracked with a crash. Twello looked back at it in shock. This was the strongest man he had ever seen! With a loud bang the door fell onto the wooden floor and gave way to a big cloud of dust circling up in the air. It blurred the vision of Shazar, but sharpening his eyesight he could see more clearly.
There was no time to waste. It wasn’t so much the guards on the outer wall he feared, but the villagers of Karashne bursting in. He would have to return the stone to them, but feared he might not be able to let go of it himself that easily without hurting anyone.
Beyond the cloud of dust he saw a woman lying in one corner; her arms spread towards the door as if she had reached out to it, but had fallen down in her attempt.
She was barely dressed in rags of torn dirty clothes that once had been a fine and impressive gown. Now the bright green and blue was stained with not only dirt but also dried blood. Her limbs were bruised and her long blond hair tangled and grimy. The once priestess…
Shazar was shocked for a moment, for he had seen a lot of barbaric things in his life; but none seem to match this.
Watching the results of their crimes…
This woman who was thin, but not emaciated, must have lived imprisoned in this tiny dirty room with only a hard bed and no blankets. A latrine in one corner, an empty plate and cup, neither windows nor fresh air and she had had to endure whatever they had done to her for weeks. Her body must have been beaten repeatedly, because there were old and new bruises and cuts.
Tears stung Shazar’s eyes at the thought of it all and the sight of the seriously hurt woman; human or not. He was glad he’d killed them.
Her face looked swollen and her pulse so weak Shazar feared she would not live much longer.
Without hesitating he carefully picked her up in his arms and lifted her over his shoulder and with a free hand he picked up his iron staff. Twello stared in awe at him.
‘What are you looking at? Come on!’ he ordered the boy to follow him and saw to it that he held on to the gem, which of course he did. Descending the winding stairs they didn’t meet anyone until they left through the tower gate. Two guards came running over, but Shazar, for a moment letting go of Twello’s hand, used his staff on them too and the men dropped lifeless to the floor.
The Tower was finally deserted and would be for a long time. *
* Read: Chained Freedom
~~~
Entering the dark woods they hurried on into the night with only the owls and other creatures of the dark as their witnesses. Twello couldn’t see a single thing, but Shazar of course did; using his night vision. Walking confidently as he knew his way Shazar held on to the boy even though he still carried the woman. Twello could not escape his grip and could hardly keep up with his fast pace but he didn’t want to stay behind either. He was about to object when Shazar finally stopped and laid the woman down on a grassy meadow underneath an old oak tree.
Give her strength, Shazar prayed to the tree as he placed his robe over her. He stood up to see to the boy who was about to crawl away into the darkness.
‘Not so fast.’
‘You promised not to hurt me!’ Twello yelled as he tried to run.
‘I did, so I won’t,’ Shazar answered solemnly as he held him by his narrow shoulders.
‘Then let me go or help me!’
‘Help you with what?’
‘Protect me when I give the stone to the nasty men. I’m afraid they will hurt me and my parents.’
‘What men?’
‘Those who keep my parents,’ Twello whimpered and his bottom lip started to quiver.
‘They’ll free your parents in return for the stone?’
The boy nodded in the dark but Shazar had seen it.
‘Great Yentil, what misery holds this world?’ he cursed but his eyes grew softer as he saw the boy cry. His tears falling silently down his cheeks, bigger than Shazar had ever seen.
‘I will help you free your parents,’ Shazar said soothingly.
Twello’s eyes lit up.
‘You will?’
‘Of course, and I never break a promise.’ He placed his hand upon his heart with mysterious dark eyes and his voice was kind and honest.
The boy suddenly lowered his guard and hugged the man by his waist. Shazar was startled by this simple gesture and held his arms up in surprise. It was a long time since anyone paid him this much kindness. Children, Shazar thought with a pang in his heart, even if they are human; are so genuine,
Shazar stroked the boy’s hair slowly, uncertain and not used to comfort a child, glancing at the unconscious dying woman, shifting his thoughts to her.
I have to help her too if I can. If this woman is who I think she is…
‘You have to save the lady too, Mr Wizard,’ Twello sounded concerned, as if he’d read his mind. ‘Can you?’ Twello looked at Shazar with so much expectation and confidence; he felt his heart sink at this innocence.
Well, let him believe I’m just that, a wizard.
Shazar knelt by the woman. He had no healing gifts apart from his own survival skills and he was able to replace, if needed, his own limbs, if severed. He had the octopus to thank for that. He was sorry but he couldn’t help her, even if she was human. He quickly tried to block out old painful memories, before they could disturb him again. Of all the powers he had he wasn’t able to use them to save his own family…
He felt her wrist, there was a weak pulse and her face was ash grey apart from the reddish blue bruises. He stood up and sniffed for water. The boy never realised he had gone and came back, in the blink of an eye, with water to splash on the woman’s face and arms. This was more important than his secre
t at this moment. For no matter how deep his hatred of the human race; he could not forsake women and children in need. It was men he had to watch out for; his only true enemy.
~~~
Shazar cared for the woman’s wounds and rubbed her cold feet and hands. The boy told him his name and where he came from.
‘How long did they give you, Twello?’ Shazar asked whilst attending to the woman.
‘Until dawn, Mr Wizard,’ Twello answered with frightened eyes, worried.
‘My name is Shazar, not Mr Wizard. Now, where is the place they are keeping your parents?’ Shazar asked looking up now.
‘At the other side of the woods; in a clearing where they have torches and a bonfire so I will remember.’ He clenched his fists.
They could easily make it in time but Shazar felt reluctant to leave the woman to die by herself. Was he getting faint hearted towards people? Well, she probably wouldn’t gain consciousness, so it would be alright he figured. He could save the boy’s parents, kill the men, keep the stone and perhaps even come back to check up on the woman; or at least send someone for her. Yes, that would be the plan, for he didn’t want to be involved any further than he already was. The stone was the most important thing now. It was the key to everything he lived for.
Just as they were about to leave, Shazar heard a faint murmur. The woman was coming to. At that very moment she opened her eyes, and even though it was dark, she knew she was somewhere else. In the fresh air! Slowly she breathed it in. Staring up she saw branches and the night sky, stars! Was she free at last? Had she died? Why was she so cold? It wasn’t supposed to be cold in the Afterlife. Looking down at her body and feeling the hard cold forest floor she smelled oak leaves. She noticed there was a warm woollen blanket on top of her. Well, that was certainly a change. Then there was a soft rustle and she could make out a face in the faint light. The lips moved saying, ‘You’re free.’
The Comyenti Series Book Bundle, Volume 1 and 2 (Epic Romantic Supernatural Fantasy) Page 11