Heartstone (Eligium Series Book 5)

by Jake Allen Coleman

  Chapter Six

  Hurrying through the dark halls, Krystelle pulled her cloak close around her and tucked her braid into the hood. With luck, the dim light would disguise her from anyone who happened to pass by. Silently, she thanked the gods for her years of experience exploring the Dazhberg. All that practice avoiding notice would come in handy now.

  The activity she noticed in her wandering intensified. It seemed that down every corridor someone rushed about some urgent task. None paid her any attention, for which she was grateful. All the movement worried her and she quickened her step. There was one person in the keep with undisputed loyalty to the crown. He would be her first ally.

  Pausing at the door, her step faltered; doubts creeping into her thoughts. What if there was another explanation for what she had heard and seen? Worse, what if she was wrong about the man behind this door? Could she afford to be wrong? Footsteps echoing in the corridor forced her hand. She did not want to be discovered here, not now. Wrapping on the door she waited with baited breath, praying he was awake

  Moments later the door cracked open and Lorcán's slender face peeked through. Seeing her, he blinked twice. "Princess? What are you...never mind. Come in, quickly." Stepping back, he opened the door the rest of the way and waved her inside. "How did you know he was here?"

  Confused she gave a shake of her head, "He? No, I came to see you. There is something I must tell you."

  Rubbing his bald head, he closed the door behind her and drew the latch. "No time for that now. Come quickly." Beckoning her to follow, he rushed toward the inner chamber. Following him through, she was surprised to find a man lying in Lorcán's bunk. He was in bad shape, with fresh bandages covering his left shoulder and a nasty gash running down the side of his face into his thick beard.

  Stopping short, Krystelle gasped. She knew this man. It was Zefran, her comrade in arms. Rushing over, she knelt next to him. "What happened? You are supposed to be at the Dazhberg."

  The wounded man grimaced and gestured for some water. "Help me sit up," he whispered. Sliding her arm beneath his back, Krystelle leveraged Zefran into a seated position, bunching the pillow behind him to provide support. Grabbing a tin cup from Lorcán, who stood by, she allowed the stricken man a sip of water. "Better?"

  Zefran nodded. "Krystelle, it is good to see you. Didna' know where else to go."

  "One of the servants found Zefran making his way to the palace," Lorcán interjected. "A good lad, he brought it to my attention and I had him brought here. I was just about to send for you. How did you come to darken my door?"

  Everything she had heard in the throne room came flooding back to her awareness. Pulling up a stool, she sat next to the bed holding the cup for Zefran to drink as she relayed her tale. It took her only a few minutes to lay out what she heard and why she had come seeking Lorcán's assistance.

  "You did the right thing coming to me, princess. I never could stand that Tanjia. Couldn't see what the late King ever saw in her. The question is, what to do next?"

  Zefran groaned, "There is ought you need to know...more danger. Council sent me to find you. Valeria says...Ban is fracturing. Sebastian's the key. Find Nynniaw’s Jounal and take it to him at Daguranso Monastery."

  "But what happened to you?"

  Lorcán interjected as the man slumped back, "I gather from what he told me before you got here, that he was caught up in a wave of wild magic. Something similar to what happened here earlier today. It's all related to this 'fracturing.'"

  Settling back on her stool, Krystelle reflected on what to do about this news. First the Krenon were staging a coup within the castle and now word that there was something wrong with the Ban. But why Sebastian? And what was all this about Nynniaw’s journal? Valeria must know something she did not. "We need to find my mother and rally whatever troops remain loyal."

  She rose, ready to make for the door, and Lorcán placed a hand on her shoulder. "I don't think you should be seen in the hallways tonight. I'll go and fetch the Queen."

  Much as Krystelle hated to admit it, Lorcán was right. Nodding, she watched the slender man hurry from the chamber. Turning back to Zefran, she ran a hand through her friend's thick hair, matted with both water and blood. He lapsed into unconsciousness and she wondered what the man had gone through to deliver his warning.

  With the minutes ticking past, Krystelle found she could not sit idly waiting. Rising from the stool, she paced the room. It galled her to know that the Krenon were here, within the walls of the palace, ready to seize control of the kingdom. Sterling Lex had broken the back of the Order of Gabirel and the kingdom before dying and this stank of his influence. It was as if the evil sorcerer reached out from the grave to stab at them one last time.

  "He's been gone too long," she said at last to the unconscious Zefran. "He should have been back by now." Kneeling down, she rummaged through Zefran's possessions piled on the floor. Finding what she was looking for, she pulled a pair of daggers from his pack.

  Standing, she turned back to the man, "I am glad you still carry these, although I would rather have a sword. I promise to bring them back to you." With a deep breath, she strode to the door, reaching it just as the handle turned of its own accord.

  Crouching back, she took up a defensive posture and prepared to defend herself from whomever was outside. The door swung open and Lorcán stepped through, stopping abruptly at the sight of Krystelle with her two daggers. "I don't think you'll need those quite yet princess."

  Heaving a sigh, Krystelle relaxed her stance and glanced past the administrator, "Where is my mother?"

  Lorcán pulled the door shut and ushered her deeper into the chamber, "I was too late. When I arrived at her hall, two Krenon were already there with a contingent of guardsmen breaking down her door."

  "Guardsmen? That makes no sense, they are loyal to my mother!"

  Lorcán winced, "My lady, surely you have seen what has been going on. The Lady Tanjia has been in the palace much longer than your mother and in that time she has had ample opportunity to influence the Guard, and who is allowed to enlist."

  Krystelle slowly nodded her head, "That makes a certain sense. I should have seen it really."

  "No more than I. In fact, I did see it but did not foresee this danger. I thought it a woman striving to secure her place at court and no more than that."

  "Surely there are some in the Guard who are still loyal. We must find them and retake the palace."

  Lorcán shook his head, "No. There is no way to know who is still true and we won't have a chance to try twice. We've got to get you out of the palace. With your mother taken, they'll be coming for you soon if they haven't already. When they discover you are missing, they'll search the palace. I can hide you for a time, but it will be better if you are not where they can get their hands on you."

  "Run away?"

  He held up both his hands at her protest, "Consider it a strategic retreat. Think about it princess. They have the Queen. If they have you, they have the Kingdom. Is that what you want?"

  The Kingdom. Not a responsibility she ever asked for nor desired. She wanted to fight. She was trained for battle, not for rule. She also knew that you only put your commanders at the front of the charge when needed to inspire and lead. Or when the battle was already lost. Was the battle lost?

  She decided not. "You win. Get me out of the palace. It saddens me to say it, but I will have to leave Zefran behind with you."

  Chapter Seven

  Following Lorcán through the palace halls, Krystelle felt a palpable change in the air from just a few hours before. Where there had been an air of anticipation filling the halls, now a buzz of urgency pulsed throughout. Sides would be chosen this night, she knew, and in a palace this size many would default to simply surviving the change.

  The deeper they went into the palace, the more unusual activity she noticed. Servants rushing about had their heads down in an attempt to avoid notice. Minor nobles hurried through the halls, tight lines of worry e
tched on their foreheads. Even soldiers and guardsmen.

  All the activity allowed she and Lorcán to slip through unnoticed. As they swept through the corridors, Krystelle stopped herself from reaching up to feel her bobbed hair. Lorcán insisted they cut her ponytail and disguise her as a page, calling it the only way for them to avoid notice. There would be eyes in these hallways looking for an advantage and an opportunity to advance themselves. Turning Krystelle over to Tanjia and the Krenon would fit that bill, thus the disguise.

  Having spent several months now in the palace, Krystelle had become familiar with most of the passages and corridors, so the revelation of a secret exit surprised her. She wondered how she had missed such a thing. Glancing about, she realized where they must be going.

  Pitching her voice low, she whispered to the administrator, "The throne room?"

  He glanced at her sideways, "Where else would the builders disguise a hidden exit from the palace?"

  She shook her head, "Does my mother know about it?"

  "No, and neither does Tanjia. Only myself and the Chamberlain know about it, we never had occasion to reveal its exact location to King Ercanbald, only that it existed. The best way to keep something like this secret is not to tell anyone about it."

  Krystelle did not like that the palace servitors would keep such a secret from the royal family, and the Guard. "That seems dangerous to me."

  Lorcán gave her a wry smile, "Why? Because one of us might betray the crown? There are a lot more ways we could sow chaos that don't require bringing enemies through hidden tunnels. Quiet now, we are almost there."

  For the second time that night, Krystelle walked into the throne room. It seemed unchanged from her previous visit, which seemed strange to her. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. She did not know what she expected, but surely something should be different.

  Following the administrator across the room to the very alcove where she had hidden earlier that night, she slowed as she passed by Gabirel's Sword. The pull she had felt earlier came back, stronger than before. Reaching out, she grasped the hilt and lifted the sword from its resting place.

  "What are you doing?" hissed Lorcán.

  Lifting her head, she locked eyes with him. "They will not have this blade. If I cannot do anything else, I'm taking the Sword with me."

  Lorcán paused for a moment, staring at her. She thought for a moment, he might argue. Shaking his head, he turned into the alcove and pulled down on a stone near the top. Even knowing it was there, the sight of the door swinging open surprised Krystelle. Lorcán looked back at her, "Here is where I leave you."

  "You are not coming with me?"

  He shook his head, "No, my place is here and I must see to your friend."

  "But what if they discover that you have helped me?"

  "They won't," he waved a hand as if to dismiss the idea. "I'm very good at keeping my own counsel. Off you go, this will take you to a cellar outside the palace walls in the merchant district. There is a maze of different passageways and the ones you want are all marked with the lion's head, follow those through to the end."

  "I will not forget your help tonight, Lorcán."

  The sound of the throne room door opening cut off his response. He waved her through the door and pushed on the unseen lever once she was through, leaving her in the relative darkness of the hidden passageway. Dim, flickering light came through a series of small slots in the wall and she wondered how she had never noticed those on the walls of the throne room.

  Krystelle moved the few feet to the first slot and peered through. Lorcán stood in front of the throne, a red-hooded figure and two guardsmen confronting him. "I have no idea where the sword is," Lorcán was saying. "With the...um...change in regime I felt it my duty to ensure that the throne room was in readiness. I'd only just arrived myself."

  "I think you are lying," hissed the Krenon. His hand extended from beneath the robe and he placed it on Lorcán's forehead. Krystelle watched in horror as a strained expression came across the administrator's face. He dropped to one knee with a moan and she could take it no longer. Stumbling down the narrow passageway, a tear ran down her cheek. She had been forced to leave a man behind like this once before and she still had not forgiven herself.

  Coming to the first junction, she saw a wolf's head on the passage to the right and a lion to the left. Without hesitation, she plunged down the corridor on the left, ignoring the cobwebs and clutching Gabirel's Sword to her chest.

  Stumbling along in the dark tunnel, she came to junction after junction, each time choosing the one with the lion's head. She listened for any sound of pursuit, but none came. The only sounds were the occasional whispered conversation seeping through the slots providing light and air to the tunnel system. It must permeate the entire palace! How had she never known it was there?

  As she progressed, time seemed to cease having any meaning. The passages and the junctions become the sum total of her existence. She saw wolf's heads, griffins, bears, sabre-cats, and even the occasional dragon, but followed the lion's heads. Other than the variety in markers, nothing told her she was making any progress at all.

  After a time, even the whispering stopped and only the sound of her feet on the stone broke the silence. The slots ended and she found herself in utter darkness. Supposing the tunnel had gone underground she pressed on, feeling her way through the corridors and tracing the sigils on the walls marking her path with her hand when she came to a junction.

  Wrapped in the blackness, her mind wandered through the events of the evening. Lorcán. Zefran. Her mother. All in the hands of the Krenon. Damn that Tanjia! She swore to herself she would see the woman pay for her betrayal.

  Coming to another junction, she felt along the wall. Where the markers should be she felt crumbling stone. Lurching to the other passage, she felt again and found that marker was gone also. Without the markers, she had no way to know which way to go. Left or right? She stood for a moment, considering her options. Indecision would do her no good. Without further hesitation, she plunged down the corridor to the right.

  Markers at the next two junctions were missing as well and she continued to the right each time. She hoped her choices would at least lead her away from the palace. Stumbling in the dark, she fought the despair that tried to creep upon her. Determined to find a way through, she focused on thoughts of her friends at the Dazhberg and what she would do after she got out of these tunnels.

  As she wandered, only the drip-dripping of water broke the silence along with the sound of her footsteps. Brushing through decades of cobwebs, she could feel their wispy threads coating her hair. The air took on a foul odor, that grew fouler as she walked as the air cooled.

  Pausing at the next intersection, she again searched the walls in vain for the lion's head sigil. For a moment she found a bit of hope as she examined the first marker. It was intact. A griffin rather than a lion, but at least it was there. Quickly she moved to inspect the other three. A bear, a wolf, and a dragon. No lion. That speck of hope flared and died. She was well and truly lost.

  On a whim, she followed the dragon. She reasoned that if she at least followed one set of markers, they would lead her somewhere, which was better than choosing randomly. Taking her first step down the corridor, she froze at the sound of heavy footsteps coming from behind her. Someone, or something, else was down here. Could the Krenon have tracked her?

  Having no desire to wait and find out, she rushed down the chosen passageway into the darkness. Behind her she could still hear the footsteps. They were not gaining, but her skin crawled at the realization she was being followed. Rushing as fast as she dared, she gripped Gabirel's sword and hoped for another intersection.

  She had gone about fifty yards when the ground disappeared beneath her. In the moment she felt it happening she tried to throw herself backward. No luck. Krystelle tumbled down through an opening in the passage floor, hitting her head as she fell.

  PART TWO

  Cha
pter Eight

  As had become his custom, Cenric rose with the first light of dawn on Cale Uriasz. Before the wizards and workmen awakened, before the hustle of the day, before the worry and boredom of life as an apprentice. Sometimes it seemed the only time he had to himself was that magical hour of pale pink and orange light where the waves crashing on the shoreline broke the morning silence. He coveted that hour and guarded his time jealously. Soon enough the day would begin and, with it, more instruction from the wizards, along with his shift helping rebuild the devastated compound.

  Across the way he heard the muted sound of cooks preparing their morning repast and the faint hint of bread baking overlaid the smells of the sea as he crawled from his tent. Looking out over the encampment, he fixed on the cluster of huts standing near the eastern boundary. Complete except for their palm roofs, the structures would house the wizards once they were finished. Only another day or so and the workmen would move on to rebuilding the Central Hall.

  Once all else was completed they might get around to building barracks for the small group of apprentices on the island. Of course the wizards were first, they were always first. The apprentices had to make do with the scraps they were handed. Cenric's stomach grumbled, reminding him that his portion of stew the night before had come up short. He was sure the wizards never got half-portions. It wouldn't do to go down to the kitchens just yet. Apprentices ate last, behind even the workers brought to the island to help with the rebuilding.

  Most mornings Cenric managed to get away from the apprentice camp before the others woke. This was not to be that kind of morning. He had not taken two steps when Medron confronted him. Tall for his age, Medron towered over Cenric physically, and his assignment to act as shepherd to the newer apprentices allowed Medron to tower over him in other ways.