by BJ Hanlon
“Let’s not have a repeat of Delrot,” she hissed back and Vistach looked over his shoulder with a ‘shut up’ look in his eyes though Edin was certain Vistach had no idea what he was talking about.
Arianne said, “I told him,” her voice was quiet. “About the isle and about Berka and the journey north. Though I only know of him abandoning us with the family.”
His girlfriend’s family, Edin thought but said nothing. One day he’d recount his tales to her. Maybe she’d open up and tell him about hers. Though he was fearful of what he’d hear and of what she’d gone through.
He squeezed her hand tighter as they reached a side entrance. Another arch with a second portcullis and more walls.
There was a guard at the front, he barely even looked at the group as they went through. This hall was only about fifteen feet long and there was a wide stairwell that took up most of the right-hand wall.
“Above are apartments,” said Arianne. “Dignitaries, ambassadors, nobles, and well-to-do merchants from all over would beg to stay there. Just to be in the vicinity of the castle.”
Then there was a wide gap, and in the center, the castle. A wall within a wall within a wall, Edin thought, though looking back at the wide windows and giant gaping tunnel and meek portcullis, he didn’t think this wall would hold. Not against armies and not against dematians.
They continued on a fieldstone path past budding plants off to the right and left. At least they were budding until recently.
“How much longer?” whined Vicker, his voice grating and tired like a little boy’s would be on a journey of this distance.
They went to a spot nearly at the midpoint between the castle and the wall-apartments and then turned left. On either side now there were small gardens with dirt paths that wound in and out of mazes.
It looked serene here and he noticed he could hear the water and smell the clean air. Air that wasn’t polluted by the stench of the masses. He guessed the wall was to keep the masses out with no real defensive capabilities.
Then there was a grand entrance to his right that went directly into the castle through a giant open door. There was a wall further that abutted the castle and there were guards on that but they were looking the other way.
They entered and went up wide stairs and into the foyer. There were grand staircases on either side that went up to the next floor. Then after, were more staircases that swung back and then there above even more.
The third floor seemed almost to hang in the air as if by some magic. Then the light disappeared somewhere on the fourth floor.
They went between the stairwells and through a door. Then another. Then they were in a low-ceiling hallway that was twice as wide as it was tall.
Vistach had to hunch slightly and his greatsword scraped the roof with an earsplitting screech.
Then they were stopped by two men, guards, that stood on both sides of a door with their spears crossed in an X.
“No weapons beyond,” said the head guard that’d been leading them.
He looked at Arianne and then Vistach in the firelight. After a moment, they slowly began to unstrap their weapons. Then a guard came by to take them followed by another, they seemed to have appeared from nowhere and began patting them down.
He felt hands on him and as another man was about to touch Arianne, she said, “If you fancy your hands good sir, you will be careful where you place them.”
Edin smirked and the man hesitated, he looked at the head guard, then at one of the other guards who wore a sort of star on his lapel. “Alright, yes, yes,” the guard said, “let them in. No one would be foolish enough to be trying something here. Not even a Mireshka.”
Edin noticed Duria shifting uncomfortably but said nothing.
“We wait now,” said the guard with the star, “until we are given the go ahead to enter.”
“We’re waiting?” Edin asked, “Why?”
“It is night and the Prince has been in bed, do you wish to see him in his undertrousers, young lad?” he said. “Believe me, give him a bit of time, let him dress, get a bit of tea, and maybe a cookie.”
“Sounds like Vicker.,” whispered Duria.
So they stood there, in near silence. The two spear guards had relaxed and were sitting now on small, knee high stools that were behind them and invisible to the eye when the group had approached. The other guards who had actually followed them inside the room leaned against the wall and though they looked over Edin’s party, they did not seem to be interested.
It was an easy gaze as opposed to a watchful eye.
Ten or twenty minutes went by, with still nothing. He moved to the wall and leaned against it with Arianne burying her head into his neck and wrapping her arms around him. “I’m so tired,” she moaned. Edin had to agree.
Immediately after, the door was opened. “Right now, carry on,” said the head guard and he disappeared through the doorway. Why was the hall so small, Edin wondered?
They were greeted with a long hall with many stone columns on either side. There were banners hanging from poles high up and men in uniform standing before each.
As they approached, he saw that the Prince, the man he’d seen on the ship with Diophin, was seated on a throne above everyone’s head. Off to the right and left were guards standing before other folks. Men who stared at the party. Men in fine nighttime robes and unkempt hair.
There were at least twenty of them and Edin noticed the Baron of Aldenheim staring at him. It’d been a long time since he’d seen the man.
Edin nodded and continued forward, feet clacking on the stone floor and echoing through the grand throne room.
There were Por Fen there too. The bald-headed troupe stood in the background and stared with sick, hate-filled eyes. Edin wondered where Merik was and who was in charge if the Inquisitor was not here.
“To the right,” Arianne whispered, seemingly a bit more awake now, “was where my grandfather let me sit. And you see the mural up top? It is of my great-great-great-great, well a whole heck of a lot of greats, grandfather, he slayed the last wyrm in the world,” she said, then added, “or so it was said.”
He saw the mural. A man with a sword on a horse. Nothing magical about it.
“The stained glass is new though. As are the other murals.” There was a sadness, a bitterness to her voice now.
Then they were stopped at the foot of stairs below the Prince of Resholt. He was seated upright with a straight back and looking a lot more awake than Edin had thought from the guard’s description.
Maybe the tea had a bit of something extra in it.
“My Lords, I present to you, Edin de Yaultan,” said the guard who’d first confronted them outside of the city and took them on the long, circuitous route through it.
There was a chattering and murmuring that went through the crowd of men. He heard, “Is he real?”; “I thought him slain on the plains of Dunbilston.” Another man hissed, “Traitor.”
“Enough,” said the Prince calmly and in an easy-going manner. “I apologize for the long wait. I know the Humbling Tunnel is small and oppressive,” he said. “Vistach, surprised you made it through. It is good to see you again.”
“You as well, my Lord.”
“Edin, please step forward.”
A few men hissed, it was a weird thing to hear, a quartet of hissers that had somehow become harmonized. Edin looked at the Por Fen and smiled.
“Enough of that,” said Feracrucio.
Edin released Arianne’s hand and stepped past Vistach and the guard to the front of the que. He looked up at Prince Feracrucio.
“You’re a bit more whole then the last time I saw you.”
“But I came as soon as I was summoned, same as last time.”
“Your actions gave me some difficult decisions young man,” Feracrucio said. Though he was in his forties, he looked to have the vigor of a younger man. He didn’t have the red nose or dark circles of a drinker. He was in shape and held Edin’s gaze. He got the feelin
g that they were the only two men in the room. His posture said he was to be charge of that room.
Edin then noticed the soldiers behind his chair. A pair of men and although they were far away, he could feel the wan stone radiating off of them like the warmth of the sun. He said nothing about this.
“It was the recently deceased Duke of Dunbilston that acted upon me,” Edin said bowing his head and letting them see the back of his neck. An old offer of submission.
“We have been informed of Ashtol’s passing as well as a many other important facts. Including the burrow of demons that had sprung in my backyard.”
Edin looked up at Feracrucio again. “Was that your doing?”
“It was a collaborative effort,” Edin said after a pause. “We were able to close one outside of Carrow.”
“Shulda lef it opan…” someone slurred and then there was an, “’ey.”
The Prince winced but said nothing about that. “Good.” He paused and folded his hands across his lap. They were big hands and rough and didn’t hold the rings that Ashtol had or that Pharont had.
Those were the hands of a man and a king, and not one or the other.
He looked down over Edin again and said, “Then I must ask for your purpose in Resholt. In Calerrat.”
“I,” Edin swallowed, he felt the eyes of his companions on him, he felt the eyes of all of them. “I was fleeing my lord.” There were murmurs and he heard “traitor. “I was, but am no longer.”
“Coward,” someone yelled and then there was “damned abomination.” It chorused for a moment.
A slurry voice was loudest. A drunk, though whatever he cried out, no one could understand. The Prince raised a hand and waited until all but the drunk were quiet and the drunk was saying something like, “ee’s a oogly foo ta blas—” he was cut off then.
Edin wondered if he acted like that when he was drunk.
“Continue,” said Feracrucio.
“There is,” Edin swallowed and then looked back at Arianne, then he turned back to the Prince. “Much more that you do not know. Much I do not wish to share in front of all of these people.”
A bit of protest but the Prince spoke up, “And of your mission? The one that you told the Duke of Dunbilston of? Was that a lie?”
The Prince did not know of the mission, he couldn’t have known. Edin answered with truth, or at least his truth…“Not a lie.”
“While I’ve never met Sinndilo, I have heard that he is a brilliant, albeit naïve boy. Did you pray on his naivety to get sent away so you could flee like a coward?” There was no accusation in his voice, no anger, it was a questioning voice. One of simple curiosity.
“No,” Edin said and looked around. “I was taken off course, I was with a friend, Berka, and we were thrown from the great bridge in Jont’s Pass.”
“That’s a four-hundred-foot drop,” said someone, “how’d you survive?”
Edin didn’t answer and Feracrucio didn’t force him to. “We were taken off our path by forces that are, that were not of our control.”
“So the other allies, they have not been reached?”
Edin swallowed, maybe he did know of Edin’s mission. “I am unsure,” said Edin, “two others in my party were ahead of me and were able to keep on the path… or so I hope. They would’ve continued on; they would’ve searched out the allies.”
“Who are these allies?” Someone questioned. It was a tall man in shiny robes and with a well kept beard.
The prince ignored him. “And then why were you fleeing?” he asked. “If your,” he seemed to struggle to get out the words, “prophecy said what you are to do, then why is it that you are fleeing the dematians? From descriptions of your actions in the Battle of the Northlands, you should be the last person to flee. You were, according to one eyewitness, a super-human. An epic hero from an old tale.”
Edin took a deep breath, he did not know if he should speak of it here or not. But he guessed he had no choice. Not anymore. They needed to know everything. The world needed to know what was coming and they had to prepare.
“It is not the dematians I am fleeing, not the wyrms or crillios or giants, or any other beasts.” He took another deep breath. He had to tell them but the words, the name, it stuck in the back of his throat like a tickle. One that wouldn’t come out no matter how many rough coughs are sent its way. Then he wet his lips. “It is what is coming with them. Actually, who is coming with them.”
“And that is?”
Edin told them and he heard people yell, people murmur and saw a man faint.
It was not a peaceful night. At least not for Edin or the Prince or the dozen other men who crowded around the table in the room they’d called a ‘conference room.’
They were used to people conferring in here apparently, though this wasn’t really conferring more like shouting out questions, answers, and fears.
There were generals and nobles and other men whom Edin couldn’t tell of their occupation though one reminded him of Le Fie. Probably a spy master.
Luckily for the rest of his new companions, they were given accommodations in the outer ring of apartments. Edin was given coffee and a bit of food. A banana bread that was quite scrumptious and although he’d never eaten a banana before, he had heard of it and was pleasantly surprised at the taste.
He sat up, looking over maps that were brought in from the War Room. A room that was supposedly even smaller than this, which Edin then wondered if it should’ve been called a Skirmish Room.
They spoke on defenses and questioned Edin on the Elves and on Yio Volor and on meeting Vestor. Of course, there was a lot of skepticism on that front. Some people, Vestion Priests mainly, thought it ludicrous that a mage would be given an audience with their patron god.
But the fact that there hadn’t been any sun in over a week, that the stories of fiendish yellow swamps seeming to grow out of otherwise healthy landscapes all over the continent, and the fact that Porinstol had been wiped off the map made believers out of many.
“Prepare for the worst, hope for the best,” one of the general’s said.
“Did you just make that up?” another man said, he looked younger and a bit foolish. “It is nothing short of brilliant.”
“Quit kissing up, it’s an old military axiom,” another person said. This one another general.
“Well I think this is worse than even the worst we could’ve thought of,” said Feracrucio. He was standing at the head of the table with a great golden goblet in his hand. His was filled with wine while most of the others were filled with coffee.
Edin heard the chiming of the clock. Three peals for three in the morning and he was barely keeping his eyes open.
“So then, what do we do?” asked one of the generals.
An admiral spoke up, it was easy to tell because he had the outline of some sort of fish on his tunic. The fish was sleek and fatter at the front than at the back and there was a great black spot in the place where the eye should be. “We have some ships, most of our fleet has been lost.” He looked over toward Edin. “The drydocks are working overtime to replace it.”
Edin didn’t point out that they had in fact attacked the Isle of Mists and not the other way around.
“Have we got the ability to send our families from the city?” A man choked out. He looked frieghtened but was trying hard not to show it. “Maybe Arsleta or Vellatorintian, that’s as far south as we can send them.”
“We shall try,” said Feracrucio, “I do not believe that even the palace is safe. Nowhere on Bestoria is safe.”
Then there was quiet. Slowly, eyes shifted from the Prince to Edin. As they were looking at him, he thought he could feel their unspoken questions, their cries and pleas for help and for hope.
That was something he couldn’t offer them. Edin said, “I’d keep the evacuation as quiet as possible. Women and children first, otherwise there’d be a riot.”
A few people sighed, there was a loud gulp in the back then the man began wailing har
d and loud. No one turned to him, Edin guessed most of them felt that way.
“Of course,” said Feracrucio, “the rest of us, shore up our defenses, I want something on the walls that can shoot down wyrms.” He paused. “And we’ll need it quickly.”
“Sir, there has not been a need for ancient aerial siege weapons in thousands of years. Since before the fall.”
“There must be books on the matter, search for them. Get the best scholars in the city to help. We need to give everything we have to prepare for these beasts. These demons.” He sighed. “When the world ends, we will be at the front of it. We will stare the God of the Underworld in the eyes and fight.”
9
Free At Last
The following days, they spent in the castle grounds. Edin was watched by guards who seemed on edge at all times.
Arianne and he walked the gardens, with minders a few yards behind. They held hands in their free time, which wasn’t much, and at night, in the room they shared they made love.
The guards stood outside and he was loud and hoped they could hear.
There were other times though, when they wanted to get sharp as they prepared. Edin picked up his sword and quarterstaff training. He worked the sets by torchlight in the garden near the western wall. On the other side of it, he heard the ocean. After, he’d work the Oret Nakosu until he was sweaty, tired, and sore.
When he walked into war meetings, he could see the rest of the people in there were tense and gave mistrusting looks. Understandable. But when he spoke, they listened.
Not many people were okay with having a magi in their midst. Not many at all.
On the third day in the city, he was seated on a small bench near a fountain of a mermaid and he was fiddling with the Callto Stone.
He tried closing his eyes and twisting it in his hands. “Rihkar,” he said and pictured him, “Berka,” he tried again, “Dorset.”
None came to him. He wondered, thought for a moment and closed his eyes. He pictured something different. Someone different.