by Scott Beith
Smiles all fading synchronously and inverting into worried frowns as Camilla pushed aside even her elder recruits to make a path from the downhill marketplace for the doctor to come rushing in upon her hasty orders.
Ebony’s very own father, Doctor Maxwell, puffing as he ran towards me in a mad dash. Only really then had I actually considered how serious my own injuries might have been – especially when I had to see Doctor Maxwell pass right over his own daughter, who was sitting on the ground near me, sobbing. Ignoring her as she and her scathed prince dwelled there together in a collected misery. The look in Ebony’s eyes saying it all: how remorseful she was for losing control once again.
Her compassionate prince knelt down with her, despite all the gashes she’d left across his body – including one small slit right across the left cheek of his face. That man sympathetically rubbing her back and shoulders, trying to calm her tears, while the doctor put his hands on my cheeks to inspect me. His palms glowed as tiny microscopic bugs fluttered out from his skin: flickering little firefly globes that jumped about my body. A flush of heat purging and cleansing every cut and bruise, watching open wounds mend and scars evaporate. Something simply too indescribable to put into words.
After all, Doctor Maxwell was the crown’s leading physician. One of the very few left with a talent for regrowth and cellular propagation, making him one of our most vital medics – not to mention our top plant breeder and farmer. A rather nice and kind type of person who has probably contributed more to our society than, many dare say, Midas and Helios ever had. Although he wasn’t someone who had an interest in politics or governance, as his only goal in life was saving the world one wounded soldier at a time.
This was the first time I’d ever felt those little seeds of life singe my own skin: his living fiery spores of light all bouncing as they searched for damaged flesh to restore and bring me back to perfect health.
The groggy feeling that had hung over me lifting as I began to feel much better than I ever had before. “Thank you,” I coughed out to him, just clearing my throat as he too took a similar stance to catch his own breath and steady his own delirious wobbles. The doctor smiling at me politely before recomposing himself enough to walk off and have a few silent words with his remorseful daughter.
Camilla took the doctor’s place above me, her tall red flags offering me the tiniest cast of shade as they blocked out the sun. “Based on your performance, I’m assuming you didn’t come here for tryouts,” she jokingly said as she sat down on the grassy mud beside me. “So what brings a lady like yourself to this sad lot?” she asked, compassionately placing her hand on my cheek to double check if I was alright. This woman was one of my friend’s mother, and someone who acted as my own mother whenever she knew I was in most need of one.
She raised her voice a little as she went on to say, “I only ask because I assume these recruits were too dumb to consider you might be here for an important and timely reason,” she then loudly spoke, only to caringly wipe away the drying smudges of mud, blood and tears still spread across my face.
“I came for help,” I said vaguely. The senior soldiers appearing most apologetic upon finally hearing this, many of them still recovering from their own harsh bumps from Camilla when she’d quickly cleared them away from me.
“And this is how they treated you?” Camilla said, unimpressed. “Probably why we still call them recruits, aye?” she added, softly insulting them before getting to the more important details. “So how can I personally help you, dear?” she asked me, helping me back to my feet.
“The princess has run away again. I think she’s gone to the Ambarvale Farms to nurse the injured,” I said, my grave news igniting excited whispers in the crowd. After all, these prepubescent soldiers had all been wishing for an opportunity like this. An opportunity to prove themselves as worthy candidates for Camilla’s prestigious ‘Vanguard’ regiment.
But Camilla stood there quietly puzzled, seeming burdened as she alone had to make the choice over what to do.
“My lady, I will go,” said someone from the crowd.
“Me too,” said another.
Soon everyone was volunteering for this golden opportunity.
“How can any of you?” Camilla snapped. “You lot can’t even tell the difference between an enemy and an ally... I’m sorry, recruits, but this task will be left to those with a little more experience,” she announced, her words quickly crushing their foolish fantasies.
The crowd began advancing around us, protesting Camilla’s words…
“But, madam, she’s not even in heavy danger!” someone foolishly yelled from the back.
“The Vanguard is supposed to remain here!” shouted another.
“Please, we can do this, miss,” pleaded another.
“There won’t even be any danger,” said others as their pouting naively continued.
“THAT’S ENOUGH, RECRUITS! Camilla shouted, scaring everyone else but me back a few short cautious steps. “THIS TASK IS NOT FOR THE UNTRAINED!” she then preceded to loudly explain, ending these novices’ childish insolence.
No one dared question their mighty Legioness any further from then on. All but one stubborn man that is. Prince Arlo stepping out from the edge of that ring. “Madam, I will go,” said the prince, more of a statement then it was a request as he publicly endorsed his own participation and candidacy amidst the ever eager crowd.
“Arlo, you know I can’t–” Camilla began to protest.
“…She’s my sister,” Arlo then chose to rudely cut her off – the only person who would dare do so. “I’m the only one who knows her well enough to find her, and you know that,” he added, coming over to speak to her directly.
“You haven’t known her for a long time,” I spat back under my breath, just loud enough for all of his crowd to hear.
“Speak up!” Arlo retaliated blankly towards me, his eyes locking on me as I stood slowly pushed out before the front of the crowd. “We’re not here to make cakes Kya. If you know something, just say it already. None of us here care about formalities,” he said towards me.
“My prince, if your sister heard you calling for her then she would keep running,” I responded with sheer determination and little restraint. I looked to Camilla while she patrolled passed us both in deep consideration of what Arlo and I had to say. “I’m sorry, my lord, but that’s the truth,” I quickly added, remembering my place and exactly who I was speaking to.
The prince’s confident gaze beamed into mine, just as his mother’s had forty minutes ago. “So says the friend who lost her,” he suavely and confidently then retorted, swaying the sceptical and snickering crowd as he walked up beside me. “The very same friend who’s now here begging for our help,” he added loudly from beside me, attempting to belittle my argument and convince Camilla and the rest of his peers he was still the best man for the job. “Madam, you can send your finest soldiers out to look for her, but they won’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found,” he continued, confidently walking around the circle. Giving Camilla some space and distance to assess the issue and deeply weigh out our two rivalling arguments.
“Unfortunately, I think you’re right,” Camilla said towards him after a moment of consideration. “Both of you are,” she then pursued to say. “I’m sorry, Kya. I hate to have to do this to you, but it is going to take at least both of you to find her.”
“Do I get a choice in the matter?” I asked rather rhetorically, rolling my eyes as I knew full well the troubled position Camilla and I were in and what had to be done about it.
“Only if the answer is yes,” she replied, trying to make light of this heavy burden. Irony to the fact that she was gladly willing to risk her own neck just to spare me from being punished by the Queen. “Ambervale is a fair distance away, and the princess could be virtually anywhere in between,” Camilla then said to the prince and me. “I will give you as much of my unit as I can currently spare, as well as the fastest and strongest steeds in the
stables.” She cautiously decided, doing her best to comfort me, before giving me a moment to let the gravity of the situation slowly settle in.
“However,” she continued, pausing a second time for the prince, wishing to amplify the seriousness of what she said next, “Arlo, I’ll only warrant this task under one strict condition... that no matter what happens, both of you stay to the roads and return back here at first sign of danger – regardless of how trivial it might appear. Am I crystal clear about that?” She focused her words almost solely on the prince, who was well known for his impulsive tendency towards recklessness. “You will not stop or go off road until you meet me at the Ambervale Marketplace later for safe extraction. And that is either with or without her,” she then issued to us. Arlo and I locking eyes with each other before looking back to her and agreeing with a small synchronous nod.
Everything seemed set in place until Ebony leapt forward to offer her services. “Let me go too, my lady. Please, the more the better, and my foolishness has already delayed this mission long enough, something I can only hold myself personally accountable for,” she then pleaded before her commander, a certain sincerity and insecurity to her tone. The fear of Arlo leaving without her more terrifying than any physical danger she might find herself in outside the safety of this high walled castle.
“Out of the question.” Camilla reluctantly shrugged, trying to walk past her.
“Cammy, please,” Ebony pleaded again, blocking any further movement forward – her grovelling rather amusing to me – step by step impeding Camilla’s passage away from her. Ebony looking to her father for help, his gaze toward Camilla offering his own approval. An obvious need for Ebony to redeem herself suddenly forcing Camilla to reconsider.
“Fine!” Camilla huffed, nodding in an exhausted approval. “But only because if I don’t, you’re just going to sneak off to join them anyway,” she stated defeatedly.
Ebony hugging her in an impatient excitement. “Thank you! Thank you!” she said before prancing towards the prince and me.
“You know, I had enough to deal with today before all of this,” Camilla somberly advertised, sighing defeated but sarcastically towards us before waving over two prestigious warriors present for her induction to be our elite escorts.
Arlo and Ebony sharing their own cheeky smile as they happily prepared to welcome over the elite fighters they were hoping to one day sit alongside.
“Now, if you will all excuse me, my son is demonstrating one of his new designs and I don’t want to miss it,” she concluded before walking downhill towards the sandy courtrooms of the central marketplace.
As with that excitement all ending, the rest of the soldiers were left with little recoil but to fall back in line and simply return to their senior coaches and various muddy training stalls. Leaving Arlo, Ebony and me behind with those two veteran soldiers to help escort us into the lowest depths of the castle’s underground bunkers and lead us through the very enclosed tunnel gates that I’d tried to gain passage through earlier.
3
Spoils
The five of us followed the underground webbed tunnels beneath the castle as far across as they could offer, breaking away from the training pits and its magnificent high rise cliff face. We passed into narrow dirt tunnels with dim-lighted torches as we began burying ourselves much deeper inland than I usually travelled.
Having undertaken an extensively longer detour than the conventional way straight out of the castle, we were within a maze of sorts: a labyrinth of confusing tunnels to anyone who wasn’t accustomed to the city’s vast sewer underbelly.
We eventually reached the labyrinth’s end, where four royal guards stood in front of a giant thick gold door. The guards opened the door, which smoothly wheeled itself along a track and into a thin shallow slit hidden inconspicuously within the left side of this tunnel’s cave wall.
The five of us shuffled inside. I had to admit the whole experience was quite phenomenal and I felt greatly privileged as I was escorted through these dimly-lit forbidden shafts by my prince and many other knightly noblemen. All of us together entering the most highly restricted space we had in our capital – the storage place of the city’s loot and treasure, among other things.
The guards were going out of their way to offer us aid, inviting us newbie first timers in like waiters serving hungry beggars at an ‘all you can eat’ buffet. They kept us strictly to the vault’s main paved path while our two unarmed escorts left us to enter their own private reserved chambers where they swapped out fresh and clean civilian clothes for battle-hardened armour and items.
Again and again my eyes widened, impressed by the ancient marvels of every single chamber room of that damp dim crypt-like corridor. A lot of the rooms being nothing but old burial chambers reserved for the best soldiers of the kingdom. Statues stood above each tomb to honour those great nymphs and the sacrifice they made in order to defend this magnificent stronghold, helping to make it the impervious place we all take for granted today.
This place was called The Royal Catacombs for good reason. To me this level felt more like an ancient battle arena than it was a resting place for honoured veteran soldiers and all their prized possessions. Just a spacious and glorified place meant for mourning, dignity and respect of our most wealthy and strong. Each room was uniquely decorated, depicting what kind of tribe and homeland these warriors originated from. Gladiators you could almost envy considering the lush lives they must have lived and left behind, based on the precious relics filling their chambers.
The treasures inside ranged from tiny trinkets and rings, to bark shields and gold crossbows linked to steel tethers. Each chamber had an unusual tool placed inside, such as chains linked to bronze daggers, urns filled with unknown powders and dusts, tridents, and weapons so heavy looking I doubted any nymph of today’s world could lift it. They were weird and exotic items built for a much more archaic era.
I had been told many stories about the ‘real’ reason we buried our dead down here. Why their bodies are so perfectly wrapped and preserved in silk threads, only to be lowered and sealed in airtight stone coffins. Buried and surrounded with all possessions once cherished merely as an insurance policy for us still living. Preserving animal feed and other non-perishable treasures for lurking spiders gone native, should a famine ever return to this world again.
And although those were just silly rumours designed to thrill us off-duty servants around Saturday night bonfires. On actual inspection, this place was indeed a grave robber’s dream, with every grail and chalice in those rooms being worth more than a lifetime of my own personal labours. All ornaments merely stockpiled and ready for resale should current members of the community be more in need of them. A true shame all this free loot to take could only slow me down when out in the unforgiving wilderness soon to be running for my life.
So being new to the armoury and its many treasure vaults, I had been guided away from Arlo, Ebony and our other two guards, left out in the final entrance corridors and forced to sit on a short stone table while the rest of the guards went to find saddles and gear for me.
Nervous but excited, I Jumped off the table the second the guards were gone and took my once in a lifetime chance to go and look out over the chasm’s lean ledge, peering down into the vast chasms below this royal top tier, admiring a sight I knew I would never get to see again. Even if I were greatly disheartened by the true magnitude of all those intersecting spider caves and canyon cliffs that made up the network of the winding exit tunnels.
I took two seconds to breath it all in, at least up until I was literally blown backwards by a sudden burst of ghastly clammy cave wind that sucked me forwards before back in a fright. The novelty of that moment expiring the second that slight backdraft almost dropped me from the rail-less cliff. A thousand oversized beasts in this tunnel network all breathing at once being enough of a scare to leave me diving sideways in retreat as I broke the calm silence of the room and grasped the closest pillar to lean again
st. Standing there up until I was grabbed and yanked away from the ledge by the very same returning service guard who’d left to fetch saddles and leashes.
“This time stay!” the guard then rudely barked at me, pushing me down on the stone table.
“Sorry, sir,” I said, not wanting to test the resolve of this grumpy guard any further. Sweat dripping off his brow from under a full heavy blackened helmet.
I didn’t appreciate being treated like a child, but I thought it unwise to provoke the guard, so I let him grab my wrist and pull me after him, obviously having decided it was too dangerous here to be leaving me alone once more.
We walked over a suspended bridge towards the brooding chambers, a place so well netted and weaved with spider webs that falling off it was virtually impossible.
I was happy to mindlessly oblige to the guard’s tugs across the bridge after almost falling off the canyon ledge before, which had left my legs feeling wobbly and my head spinning. Some unending vertigo sensation I had never felt so severely before. Fairy lights flashing in circles over my head while I contemplated just how high up we were from the bottom cave floor, which was a full mountain-side below us. That whole dark and dramatic descent I potentially could’ve fallen down before landing in the bottom putrid bile pits that had been formed by a huge accumulation of corrosive spider drool.
So no longer with my group and instead being brought into the private brooding halls of its first corner nursery. My misbehaviour ended up coming with great benefit, as I was allowed to go into the stablehouse, where our military breed and domesticated carpenter spiders lived – it was one of the most terrifying and thrilling experiences of my life.
A rather revealing fitting room, being that it was one made beside the glass cave walls, which were home to dozens of huge baby arachnids all fluttering about in their pocket cages while the guard grabbed a harness from the cupboard shelves over in the less intimidating side of the room. The man taking his time while he guessed the saddle sizes required for this occasion.