Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (54 page)

Could Keenan really be a descendant of the king of Tizen? He hardly thought the royal genealogist had lived to record the family tree. Could he just be pretending? Claiming a title that no one would fight him over? From what little Derek knew of the man, it hardly seemed likely.

Once again, he forced the thoughts away. Regardless of what happened, he needed his sleep. Rather ironic, this was the first time in at least a week that he had gotten to sleep on a bed, and he couldn't go to sleep.

He wasn't sure when he dropped off, but all too soon, a guard was kicking the end of the bed and ordering him on his feet.

Rubbing his eyes, Derek wearily climbed to his feet. His clothes were wrinkled, and they stunk, after all he had been wearing them for at least a week.

One of the guards smirked at him, “Got a little walk ahead of you.”

Derek wondered just how far the buried fort was.

Derek was reunited with his fellow guardians, but he didn't get a chance to do more than smile at them. The guards were watching awful closely. They were given a cold hard biscuit for breakfast, and then they were each chained to two guards. Big rough looking men, men that seemed to know how to take care of themselves.

Garrick walked over and stood in front of the guardians, he carefully avoided making eye contact with Derek. “All right, listen up. You're wanted alive, but if you try to escape you will most certainly wish that you hadn't.” He nodded at the guards that each guardian was attached to, “Do whatever you need to, but they had better be alive when we reach the fort.”

Derek was surprised that Keenan, Fantin, and the magician were not in their party, but it was just the guardians, Garrick, and maybe twenty soldiers.

Turning, Garrick started off at a quick walk. The pace he set wasn't difficult, or it wouldn't have been if the guardians hadn't been chained; walking with chains on made things a little difficult.

Kara was the first to fall; she fell maybe fifteen minutes into the climb. Her guards pulled her roughly to her feet and forced her on.

Derek met Trestus' eyes, both men wanting to go after the guards, but Derek shook his head. This was not the time.

Kara may have been the first to fall, but she was not the last. The trail got steeper and steeper, and for a while they were climbing on all fours more than they were walking. Each of the guardians took some nasty spills, but their guards yanked them to their feet and made them keep on.

The lack of food quickly took its toll. The sweat poured out of each them, and Derek thought that his chest would burst.

Garrick did stop them every hour, although Derek was sure that the fighter was doing it because he had been ordered to, not out of the goodness of his heart. Each break lasted maybe five minutes, and they were each given water and a chance to catch their breath. All the while, Garrick grinned at them, obviously enjoying himself.

They continued this grueling pace all morning long, right up until mid-day. At mid-day, they were given a hunk of bread, and a small piece of cheese for lunch, and a little bit more water with which to wash it down. Then they started upwards again.

They continued for another couple of hours and finally, Kara collapsed and would not get back up.

“Get up you lazy cow!” Garrick shouted down at her, he pulled his leg back to kick at her, and both Derek and Trestus rushed forward.

Their guards yanked them to a halt, and Garrick grinned at them. “Can't help her can you?” He pulled his leg back to kick her, and one of the guards that was chained to Kara stepped in front of her.

The grin disappeared from Garrick's face, “Out of the way!”

“No sir,” The guard said quiet calmly. “I have my orders from Prince Keenan himself. You are not to touch any of the prisoners.”

Garrick scowled at the man before nodding, “Fine. You get her up then.” Turning he stalked off, back to the front of their group.

Bending down, the guard picked up Kara and slung her over his shoulder, like a bag of potatoes. He carried her the rest of the way, but at a slower pace. Luckily, they were only a short distance from the entrance.

The entrance to the fort was a long tunnel that had been dug through the rough mountain side. After two thousand years, this part of the mountain looked just like any other, so Derek had no idea how they had known that the fort was below here.

They were led down the long dark tunnel in single file. One of their guards walked in front carrying a torch, while the second guard followed closely behind. Even this close, their captors were not taking any chances.

The tunnel did not inspire confidence. The rough wood beams that supported the roof, looked shaky at best, and here and there small piles of dirt had fallen. Rocks were also scattered, apparently having fallen from the roof or the sides of the tunnel.

They walked what like seemed forever, the tunnel sloping downward, but not in a precarious manner. Finally, they reached the end of the tunnel. It deposited them in a large cavernous rectangular room. Torches burnt in sconces on the wall, and several doors and hallways opened up off of this room. The ceiling was lost in the darkness, and it was clear that this fortress had once been impressive. Guards stood duty on either side of the doorways that ran off of the room.

It took several minutes for their guards to get the chains undone, but finally, after an exhausting day, they stood, unchained in Dahl-Rucka. Trestus had to help support Kara, she felt hot and seemed on the verge of passing out. The guards that had accompanied them up the mountain left back through the tunnel, only Garrick remained with them. The four guardians stood in a line, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the group of people assembled there.

A small group was gathered in the room, obviously waiting for them. Derek recognized Keenan, Fantin, and the magician, but not any of the others. Two old men stood there, and both of them appeared ancient. One was tall and skinny, with thick pure white hair and piercing blue eyes. The second man was short and looked shriveled. His hair was thin, and he was missing most of his teeth, his skin hung loose across his face and neck.

The shorter old man grinned at them. “Look what we have here, Anton.”

The taller old man, who Derek guessed was Anton, bowed his head. “Yes, my lord. A fine catch.”

The deference in Anton's voice surprised Derek, he had thought Anton the one to be in charge; he was the more impressive.

The shorter old man, still grinning, walked slowly down the line of guardians. “Commoner,” He said with distaste as he passed Enstorion, who was on the end of the line. Next, he passed Kara, “Commoner,” He repeated. The old man almost held his nose as he walked past Trestus, “Merchant born.” He spat. And then he reached Derek. He stopped walking and turned to stare up into Derek's face. “I believe you're of noble birth. Are you not?”

“Yes. I am.” Derek said, staring into the old man's eyes.

“Is that anyway to answer a king?” Anton asked.

Derek's eyes shot from the short old man in front of him over to Anton and then back. “A king?” The incredulity was obvious in his tone.

Strangely, the 'king' standing in front of him did not take offense, he merely laughed. “Wouldn't think it of me, would you?” Despite the mirth, there was something else in the old man's tone, perhaps just a touch of anger.

“You are standing in the presence of King Zarum,” Anton's voice would have made a court announcer proud.

Confused, Derek frowned down at the man in front of him. “If I may ask your highness, what kingdom are you king of?”

Zarum's grin widened, his grin was so wide, it looked like his face might turn inside out. “I am the high-king of Golteranth.” He spoke softly, but the words were still clear.

Derek was taken aback, although the thought had occurred to him as soon as Anton said they were in the presence of a king. Keenan's little talk the night before had provided the clues. Obviously, the other three guardians did not have the first inkling. They wore their astonishment openly on their faces.

Derek nodded, “Your highness. May I ask why we have been taken prisoner?”

Zarum chuckled, “I think you're worthy of your noble birth. I don't think it even shook you. Did it?”

Derek shrugged, “What can I say? It takes a lot to surprise me these days.”

Zarum turned his back and walked away from the guardians. “I have had you brought here to help me.” He stopped walking halfway between the guardians and the group that had been waiting for them. He turned back around to face the guardians, “I expected to have you before you got out of Telur, but you surprised me, again.” His grin slipped on the word 'again'. “Splitting up was a masterful stroke, but in the end, here you are.” He spread his hands wide, indicating the cavernous room, “My guests.”

Anton stepped closer to Zarum, “My lord. Prince Zalustus' lieutenants were instrumental in the capture.”

Zarum turned his back to the guardians, and regarded Keenan, Fantin, and the magician. “You are quite right, Anton. Prince Keenan, Fantin, and Seeda; you have my thanks, and once Zalustus returns with the sword, I will give you a more fitting reward.” The three bowed low, Seeda must be the magician's first name.

Zarum turned back and seemed to notice Garrick, who was still standing behind the prisoners. “Oh, and this must be the other man that Anton spoke of. Come forward.”

Garrick, looking nervous, moved around the guardians, and stood straight before Zarum.

Zarum walked around the blade master. “I hear that you are responsible for notifying Anton about these four and are chiefly responsible for their capture.” Garrick said nothing, but just stood there, looking straight ahead. Zarum came back around in front, “I am pleased.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“There is a five thousand gold piece reward for each of them. You may leave. I will have the money brought to you.”

Garrick hesitated, “Sir, I was hoping that I might would be allowed to serve you directly.”

Zarum considered the man for a moment, “Anton did mention that you had high hopes. Tell me, boy, do you think that you can follow my commands? Without questions.”

Garrick smiled a self-confident smile. “Absolutely, my lord.”

“Really?” All traces of the grin were gone from Zarum's face and his voice took on a steely tone. “Then why is it that when I give an order that the prisoners are not to be hurt, you bring me one that is black and blue. And why is it that my loyal subject Keenan had to step between you and the prisoner to prevent you from sticking a knife in him?”

Garrick gulped, looking sick. “Uh. My lord, I would not have stabbed him with the knife. I drew it instinctively, but I would not have used it.”

Zarum considered, “Perhaps, but leave us now. I will consider your request.”

Garrick bowed, and then turned and practically ran from the room.

Zarum watched him go, seemingly lost in thought, then his eyes wandered back over to the guardians and he drew himself up. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

Derek would like to know that himself, but he was more than half afraid that he already knew the answer.

“You see, I need some information. I need to catch Prince Flaranthlas before he gets the sword.” His eyes swept up and down the line, “I don't suppose any of you would care to volunteer any information?” After a moment of silence, he continued, “I thought not.” He turned and looked at the gaping black doorways. “Guards!” He shouted.

Men in armor and carrying clubs burst from the doorways and surrounded them.

“Don't try anything foolish.” Zarum said, watching them intently. He turned to Anton, “The room is ready?”

Anton bowed his head, “Yes, my lord, just as you commanded.”

Zarum nodded, “Good. Lead the way.”

Anton led the small procession from the room, followed closely by King Zarum. The two fighters and the magician came next, followed by the guardians and their guards.

They walked through hallways that were for the most part intact, but still in need of obvious repair. Most of the rubble had been removed, along with the rotten furnishings, what little was left of them. Some of the torch sconces had been replaced, but not enough. The hallway was too dark, and several times they kicked a rock or stubbed a toe. Rooms could be seen off of the hallway, but most of them were in complete darkness, and the few rooms where the light reached, seemed to be buried under tons of rock. It was not a comforting feeling, thinking about all of that rock above their heads.

The hallway turned first left and then right, sometimes descending, and other times ascending, but still they walked on. Derek tried to keep track of which way they had come, but he was soon lost. Finally, up ahead a light began to grow brighter.

They entered a section of the hallway that had been completely cleaned, and the torches had all been replaced. The hallway continued on, back into the darkness, but the group stopped, and entered a small room.

The hairs on the back of Derek's neck stood up as he entered. The room wasn't overly large, maybe thirty feet by thirty feet. Two metal cages were on the left, and two more on the right. Each cage was approximately ten feet long by five feet wide. Each cage had a small cot with a chamber pot underneath it.