by P D Atkerson
"If only that were the truth!" Trot said, with a sigh. "We'd all be better for it. But alas, he still lives to bring shame on our family." He shook his head. "But no matter, we have not come to this cursed place to talk about the past, or of my father. We came to find your father, who should be in the last cell. Come. Let us find him."
They walked for a minute, then Trot stopped and pointed. "There," he whispered. "That's the last cell."
Aroron moved forward and looked down. What he saw caught his breath. In the dim light from the lamp, he saw Shon's face in the cell. Shon looked up at them, and for a second, he didn't act as if he even knew who they were, then his face changed, and he smiled.
"Aroron? What are you doing here?" Shon asked, as he shoved himself up to look through the bars. Even though he'd only been there one night, he was whiter than Aroron remembered, and his face thinner. "I thought you would be a long way from here," Shon said. "Why did you come back?"
"I couldn't go without you, I already told you that," Aroron whispered, as he moved closer to his father, and dropped down onto the grill.
"You shouldn't have come back, leave and never come back here, ever again," Shon said, as he looked up sadly at Aroron. "It is not safe here for you, not anymore," he whispered.
"I'm sorry I'm not willing to let him kill you, like he killed my mother," Aroron said, as he gripped the bars of the cell.
"It doesn't matter, Aroron. You have to leave, you have to!" Shon said, and he looked past him to Trot. "You make sure he leaves."
Trot looked at the floor and nodded. "I will."
"What?" Aroron said, jumping to his feet, turning back towards Trot, he glared at him. "No, you can't make me leave."
"Aroron!" Shon snapped, slamming the wall next to him. "You will leave me here. I will not watch you die too, or... something worse," he said, and nodded to Trot, who grabbed Aroron's arm.
"How could I live with myself if I didn't help you? What..."
Aroron stopped and took in a breath of the foul air and fought back the anger towards his father. He knew he was only doing it because he cared about Aroron. But what was he going to do? He knew he couldn't leave his father, not without trying to help him.
"I'm not leaving, and you can't make me," Aroron said, as he fought back his anger, pulling away from Trot and Shon. He leaned back against the cold stone wall.
Shon's face was sad, and his head drooped. "Aroron, please. There's a lot more going on here than you know. I can't tell you why, but Munay wants you more than he wants me," Shon said. "You have to go!"
"Your father is right, Aroron," Trot said, placing a hand on Aroron's shoulder. "Shon has been used by Munay for all he's worth. He will want you," as Trot said this, a shiver went up Aroron's spine. Why would King Munay want me? He wondered, then he turned back towards Shon.
He was about to question Shon, when the guard's footsteps echoed towards them. "There's another guard coming. You need to go, now," Shon said, as he quickly scooted up against the wall, back into the shadow and slumped down. "Hurry!" He whispered. "And don't you come back here again! No matter what."
Trot nodded to Shon, grabbed Aroron's arm, and dragged him away from Shon and back towards the door from which they'd come.
Once they were to the door again, he pounded on it. "We are done," Trot called to the guard on the other side, as he let Aroron go.
What if father dies down here? What a terrible way to go, dying down here in the filth! He closed his eyes and choked back a sob. He had to get control of his emotions! He wouldn't let them control him.
Finally, the door slid open and they stepped through. The guard looked up at them. "Are you done then, Lord Trot?" He asked.
"Yes, I doubt I will be coming back here again," Trot told him. "Come, we need to go," he said, placing a hand on Aroron's shoulder, pushing him forward towards the stairs.
When they were half way up the stairs, Aroron slipped on one of the wet steps and slammed his knee into the stone.
He gripped the wall and pulled himself up. The fabric of his pants was ripped, and a small trickle of blood slid down his leg.
"Are you alright?" Trot asked, as he looked down at Aroron's leg, but he couldn't see anything in the dim light.
Aroron nodded. "It's just a scratch."
"Okay, then we need to get going," Trot said, straining to see the rest of the stairs above, which glowed orange from the firelight in the hallway. "People will start moving around the castle soon, and I don't want to be out when they come this way," Trot whispered. "Come," he said, hooking an arm around Aroron and pulled him up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
When they reached the top of the stairs, the sun had risen and was filling the hallway in sunlight. Trot picked around the corner of the stairwell. They quickly moved down the hallway, back towards his room.
Trot came to a sudden stop, when he heard someone laughing ahead of them. Aroron slammed into his back and groaned.
"Guards!" Trot hissed, pulling him behind a curtain, just as the guards rounded the corner. Through the middle of the curtains they watched as the two guards passed by.
"I can't believe Lart's getting two months off. All he did was come back from the journey with Sir Shon," the one guard said.
The other guard snorted. "Yeah, I know. I can't believe it. He spent one month gone and he gets twice that off! It's not fair..." They didn't hear the rest, as the guards turned the corner and the wall blocked them out.
"Hurry!" Trot said, pushing the curtains away. "We need to get back."
They ran down the hall, their cloaks flowing behind them.
Aroron jumped at every noise, and he nearly collapsed when they reached Trot's chamber once again.
Trot tapped on the door three times, then stepped back. Gil opened the door and they stepped into safety. At least for the moment.
"How did it go?" Gil asked, helping Trot take off his jacket. "Did you find Shon, down there?" He questioned, looking from one to the other.
"Yes," Trot said, as he moved towards the fire to warm his hands. "He wants Aroron to leave, and I agree with him. Aroron will not be safe here."
"Knock! Knock!" They all froze. Time stopped.
Someone knocked again, and Aroron turned to Trot. "Who is it? Do you think someone knows I'm here?" He asked.
"There's only one way of finding out," Gil said. Aroron moved out of view, as Gil opened the door. "How may I help you, good sir?"
"I must speak to your master," the man said, in a stiff voice, as he looked down his nose at Gil and sneered. "And only to him!"
"Why you little..." Gil started, but Trot put a hand on his shoulder and stepped between him and the visitor, smiling.
"I am Lord Trot, what can I do for you?" He asked.
"There is to be a trial to be held today, for one of the Loyal Warriors," the stiff man said, looking down his nose at Trot. "It will be held in one hour's time."
Trot's eyes widened. "One hour? Why so quickly?" He asked.
"King Munay wants to be done with the trial as quickly as he can," the stiff man said, barely moving his lips. Then he bowed. "I must be going, there are more royals who must be told." With that, he turned and marched down the hallway.
"Okay..." Trot mumbled, as he stepped back and closed the door. He turned back towards Gil and Aroron. "I think we can guess who the Loyal Warrior is," he said, with a sigh, leaning against the door. Aroron took a step towards him.
"Take me to the trial, please Trot. I want to be there when it happens."
Trot looked at Aroron, his sad face told him he couldn't say 'no'. Lord Trot sighed. "Okay, I'll take you, but as soon as I think you need to leave, you leave. Okay?" Aroron nodded. "Go change into something darker, you'll go with Gil. We can't be seen together or someone's going to find out who you are and then it's all over for both of us. Stay in the shadows," he said, as Aroron headed out of the room, he turned to Gil. "I guess I better change too."
Aroron pulled back on the cloak his father ha
d given him. Gil had cleaned it while they were gone, and it smelled of soap. He laughed, realizing he'd never cleaned it before and never thought to. As he was clipping it around his neck, he moved back into Trot's main room. Gil was still there, adding a log to the fire.
"Well, we better get going if we want seats."
Aroron laughed. "What? A seat? You're talking like it's some stupid play we're going to watch, and not a trial against my father."
Gil sighed. "If only that was true. Come on, we need to go," he said, moving towards the door. He opened it and stepped out, taking the path to the right.
Gil led Aroron down the hallway, quickly and quietly. They walked for a minute without saying a word to each other, then Gil turned to the right and led Aroron down a dark hallway, lit only by the torches. Halfway down the hallway, Gil turned quickly to the right, into a doorway hidden by the shadows unable to be seen till you were upon it.
Gil bent over and pulled a key ring out of his pocket. One by one he went through the keys, till he found one which fit. It opened with a 'click' and he waved Aroron through.
Inside the doorway stood the balcony. It looked out over the throne room, the railing plated in gold, and to the right, a small staircase led down to the side of the throne room.
"No one uses the balcony, not since Munay became King and ordered the Royal's to sit behind his throne," Gil whispered into Aroron's ear, as they stepped onto the balcony. "Lord Trot is the only one with a key anymore."
Aroron expected the floor to creak and give them away, but it made no sound as they moved.
The balcony looked down onto the throne room, the throne sat to the right of the balcony. Aroron slowly approached the railing and laid down on his stomach. The throne room was eerily silent.
Chapter 8
The Throne Room
The throne room consisted of a long dark room, with black stone walls and archways. The room smelled of smoke from the huge fire burning in the hearth.
The flames leapt from the fire and bit at the edge of the mantle, coating it in a layer of black soot.
The wall opposite to Aroron was long glass windows, painted with battle scenes. Some were against other kingdoms, others were against the dragons of old. But fires burned in all of them, the darkness outside made them look gloomier than normal.
The throne itself was tall and made from the black oak of the Dubh-woods. It was the first time Aroron noticed the whole thing was a dragon, in a kneeling position. Its wings were held behind its back, and its hind legs were the front feet of the throne. It was almost breathtaking.
After Aroron saw the dragon's head, he had an ever-present feeling of being watched and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He'd never look at a painting of a dragon the same way again.
The door to the right of the throne opened and King Munay walked in. His long robe trailed behind him, as he strode towards the throne and sat down.
King Munay's dark brown hair was held in place by his golden crown, rubies and fire gems embedded along its sides. The gems glittered, even in the dim torchlight. He loves red and black, that's for sure. Oh, and dragons. Aroron thought to himself, as he stared down at the crown. At the front of the crown were two dragon heads, intertwined together, posed with their mouths open and their tongues sticking out. Aroron looked at the king's eyes, haunted and dim, much too old looking for his thirty years.
The floor glittered in the dim torchlight. The door opened again, and in came King Munay's advisor, Dasety. He had long stringy black hair, his eyes a gentle blue which invoked trust. He knelt before the king.
"Oh, Great One," Dasety spoke, his voice like silk. "Why do you meet with this traitor? You know what he has done, be gone with him! And show your people your greatness."
"Dasety!" King Munay snapped, slamming a fist onto his throne. "You are my advisor, but you will never tell me what to do!"
Dasety fell to his knees. "Forgive me, my king," he whispered. "I did not mean any offense to your greatness."
King Munay sighed. "All is forgiven, now be silent."
Dasety moved to stand next to the throne.
The door on the other side of the throne opened and a handful of royals stepped into the room. Trot was the last one to enter, he wore a long thin robe, fastened around his neck. He glanced at the balcony but quickly turned around. The royals sat in chairs to one side of the throne. They looked a lot like a flower garden with all their brightly colored fabrics.
Aroron flinched as the doors slammed closed behind his father. The doors were so huge and heavy, a waft of air blew through the room, causing the torches on the walls to sway.
It reminded him of the sound of a dungeon door as it closed.
He watched as Shon was dragged to the front of the room and shoved to his knees, just below the steps to the throne. Shon's hands were tied behind his back, and blood dripped down his side, onto the black stone floor where it started to pool at his feet.
Four warriors trailed just behind him, swords drawn. One of the warriors was Kant.
Kant moved past Shon and stepped in front of King Munay, he fell to one knee and bowed his head. "My king," he said. "I have returned with the traitor, as you asked, to be judged by the royal court," Kant said, pointing towards Shon.
Shon's head drooped and he closed his eyes. He looked like he was asleep.
Munay sighed, as he leaned back against his throne. "Shon... Shon... Shon!" He said, slamming his fist down onto the throne, causing two of the royals to jump in their seats. "Why?" Munay asked, as he stood. His black eyes flashed red with anger. "After everything we've been through? To go, and stab me in the back? It is below you, Shon. Or so I thought," he said, shaking his head, the fire gems caught the light and made it look as if they might burn King Munay's head. The thought made Aroron smile, if only for a moment.
Shon opened his eyes, holding his head high as he looked Munay straight in the face.
"You ask me why, when I kneel before you, with my hands tied behind my back?" Shon asked, his eyes growing wide. "And my sword!" He cried. "It's been taken from me, like some common criminal." His shoulders drooped, and he lowered his head once again. "What have I done to break your trust?" he asked, looking down at Munay's feet.
If Aroron didn't know better he'd have thought Shon was sincere, and didn't know why the King was mad at him, and really did care that Munay was angry.
No wonder I don't always know if he's telling the truth! Aroron thought to himself, shaking his head.
King Munay studied Shon for a minute. "Common criminal?" He whispered, then he laughed. "No, Shon. You're not even close to a 'common criminal'." His smile faded. "You were once loyal to me, and now you've betrayed me, and lie to my face," King Munay said, glaring at Shon. "You should already be dead for what you've done."
Aroron closed his eyes and clenched his fists, as he fought the urge to yell at them. What does Munay know about loyalty? All he cares about is himself! Aroron screamed inwardly.
King Munay turned back to Shon, his face calm once again. "I know you. I have known you for these past fourteen years. And yet, you think I would not know something has been going on with you, since you returned from your journey?" Munay shook his head. "You're one of my most dangerous men," he said. "No, you fool yourself if you think I don't know what you did! You did that," Munay hissed, pointing to a pile of ash and a blackened wall. "Just to distract me from what you were really doing. You burned down my stables and took something of mine. Those horses were worth more than most men see in their entire lives, yet you killed them, for no reason but spite," Munay said. "They weren't even close to the value of what you took from me. Where did you take it? I know you were the one who took it!" King Munay hissed as he grabbed Shon around the neck and yanked him to his feet.
"I want to know where Aroron is, he belongs to me now." Munay spat in Shon's face. "And after what your men brought me today Shon, well... I might have made you a king under me. Don't act innocent!" King Munay hissed, as he releas
ed Shon and shoved him backwards. "I know you took it, and I want it, and Aroron back," he said. "I gave you a chance to become someone great, if you had done what I asked."
Shon stepped towards Munay, the guards didn't move to stop him, they only watched as he moved forwards to stand in front of him.
All appearance of loyalty vanished.
Disgust was evident on his face, as he glared at Munay.
"Why would I want that?" Shon asked, laughing. "When you're done with this battle you're waging against the world, there will be nothing left for anyone to rule." His eyes burned with anger. "You're a mad man, drunk on power. You want to rule, but you can't, you never will, no matter how many people you kill to make it happen. I promise, I won't let you hurt Aroron," Shon said, smiling. "And I know how much you want it back, to save yourself from your own fate."
Munay turned away from Shon and straightened his shirt. "Don't worry, after you're gone, I'll find Aroron, and make sure he doesn't grow to be soft like you have become." Munay said, sneering.
Shon lunged at the king, but the two guards grabbed his ropes and yanked him back, his face constricted in pain, as the ropes dug into his skin and more blood pooled at his feet.
"Tut, tut, tut. Shon," Munay said. "You need to work on your temper, and be careful of your side," Munay purred, smirking at Shon. "You've failed at your job. I'll have someone else take care of him. He will be as he was born to be. A great fighter, and one day maybe more." Munay smiled. "He will be far greater than anything you could have imagined."
Shon tugged on the ropes again, but the guards held them tightly in their hands. "You will leave Aroron out of this, Munay!" Shon yelled.
Munay yawned and sat back onto his throne. "Now why would I do that, when this entire thing is about him? Is it not?" Munay asked, leaning back against his throne. "By the way, have you told him yet? Or were you hoping he won't find out?"
Shon didn't answer. "That's good, if he doesn't know the truth, then he'll be harmless," Munay said, a smile spread across his face. "That is, before his sixteenth birthday anyway. Were you hoping to get him away before then?" He asked. "Were you trying to save him from his fate? Too bad we are all ruled by fate, even the most powerful person must follow the path laid out before him. Which will Aroron pick, I wonder? The path you see for him, or the one I see for him?" King Munay asked, rubbing his chin. "Let's see who's still alive to move him."