Pilgrimage (20 page)

It didn't seem possible that
this
belonged to Pentdragon but there it was, hidden away like an embarrassing secret. Unable and unwilling to leave before her curiosity was satisfied, Caia continued forward. As she approached the cottage, the door opened. She walked through and a light flickered to life above her, on her right an open doorway led to a room lined wall-to-wall with bookshelves. There were more books than space to read them. A narrow hallway stretched out in front of her, away from the library. She turned to enter the library but the door swung closed. She heard the tumblers click in the lock. She shrugged, turning back to the corridor. A little further forward was a cracked door frame that led into a kitchen. She couldn't see whatever door might have once been attached. Past the kitchen was another closed door and then the corridor turned a corner. This second stretch had no doors but opened up, at the end, into a room Caia could not identify. From where she was standing it looked as if the end of the corridor was on the horizon. She turned back the way she'd come and the front door looked as it was just as far away. It had closed, too.

“I know this isn't real!” Caia called out. Her voice echoed the long distance down the corridors and faded away into nothing. She opened her satchel and rummaged through it. She found a book she'd planned to read a year and a half ago. She called it an opportunity for self-improvement. So much for that plan. She took the book and threw it towards the front door. It spun through the air and fell to the ground less than half way. Pentdragon's illusions were impressive, all right. She'd never admit that out loud, but they definitely were impressive.

The lights went out again, leaving Caia in the dark. The door beside her creaked open and a dark red glow crept around the door frame and lit everything in the colour of blood. Caia took the offer and walked through the door. That door swung closed behind her, just as she'd expected. At the centre of the soft, red light was a man who had all the accoutrements of a king, save for a crown. He was dressed in velvet robes and a trailing golden cape. He probably thought it was regal. Caia thought it looked gaudy and uncomfortable. He was standing on a stone platform in front of a throne. The room was otherwise empty and was made – or at least looked like it was made - entirely of cobblestone.

“I don't know you.” The uncrowned king said.

“You must be Lord Pentdragon.”

“I am.” Pentdragon's eyes narrowed and became almost invisible between his wide nose and thick, mahogany coloured eyebrows.

“You invited us here.”

“You're the woman they told me about. The one travelling with Roland and Griffith.”

“That's right.”

“I know everything that happens in my house. I have been watching Roland drink himself into a daze. I have been watching Griffith stand quietly in the corner, waiting for something to happen. And I have watched you move, unhampered by the illusions, into my house. You are more impressive than your friends, not least because, as I said, I don't know you.”

“I keep a low profile.”

“You mustn’t live in the Tablelands.”

“Oh I live here. I just don't make a big fuss about it.”

“How interesting. Ah, you wouldn't be part of Lance's family, would you?”

“You knew him?”

“Knew him? Once upon a time he was my closest friend. But we had many disagreements over how things should be run. Lance did not have my tolerance or my kindness. He wanted to control the Tablelands with fear. He might have gone after the whole world … if I hadn't dealt with him.”

“How, exactly, did you deal with him?”

“I banished your master from my court. But before he left, I branded him with a spell that would kill him if he ever left the Tablelands while I was still alive. Or at least, I told him I did. That seems to have kept him busy all these years. Tell me, daughter of Lance, do your friends know about your family?”

“Yes. They were with me when I killed them.”

“I see.” Pentdragon paused. His mono-brow twitched as if somebody had run an electrical current through a caterpillar. He seemed to be considering Caia and she matched his judgement with a stone gaze. “Then your being here is coincidence, is it?”

“I guess so.”

“That's a shame. I imagine I could find a very useful role for you in my court.”

“I'm not interested.”

“No.” Pentdragon chuckled. “I had no belief that you would be. But it doesn't matter. The truth is, you and your friends have come here to die.”

The red glow around Pentdragon vanished, leaving them in darkness. A second later, the room was lit up by a row of burning torches along the walls. Pentdragon hadn't moved. Caia turned towards the door. Empty stone wall. She spun back to face Pentdragon. He hadn't moved. He was smiling. Caia looked down at her bangles. She focused. In her mind the twisting geometry began to shift and unravel itself. A sudden wave of force swept over her. Caia's feet swung out beneath her. She hit the floor and the world spun in front of her eyes. Her body lifted, head first. That invisible force launched her sideways, crashing her into the wall. Before she could fall back to the ground, she flew across the room and struck the opposite wall. Her eyes filled with tears. Caia could feel the blood running from her nose, over her lips. All she could hear was a throbbing in her head and the beating of her heart. The force pressed her into the wall, rendering her incapable of movement.

When it became hard to breathe she was finally allowed to drop. She coughed blood and saliva onto the cold stonework. She wiped the fluids from her face, wincing as she touched her nose. Probably broken. The reprieve didn't last. Suddenly her whole body was wracked with unbearable pain. Caia writhed and shook uncontrollably as if somebody had plugged her into light-bulb socket and flipped the switch. She screamed. Caia screamed until it tore the back of her throat and the only noise she could make was a gurgling cough to eject the blood from her mouth.

*****

Griffith looked down at his wrist. He sighed. He missed having a watch but at least he'd be getting it back soon. If Pentdragon ever showed up. He figured they'd been there about an hour, now. He hadn't seen Caia since they arrived but she was more than able to handle herself. He couldn't not see Roland, even if he tried. For a little while he tried to count how many times Roland had stumbled back to the bar for a refill but after the fourth time, he'd stopped bothering. Now Roland was swaggering from person to person acting like an ass. He just hoped Roland would keep his drunken antics away from Pentdragon. The best outcome was Pentdragon giving them all permission to keep going uninterrupted to Salem. That was ideal but unlikely. All Griffith wanted to do was make peace long enough to get his stuff back and get out alive. That shouldn't be too hard. As long as Roland behaved himself and Caia showed up again, everything would be fine.

Griffith left his corner of the room and wandered up behind a group of men in conversation. Trying not to be conspicuous, he circled the group, checking their wrists one by one. A gentleman in thick-rimmed glasses was telling an anecdote about the time he tried to use magical counterfeit money. He had a simple digital watch. It was almost an hour since they'd arrived, just as he thought. Griffith sighed and stepped away from the group before they noticed how uncomfortably close he had gotten.

Griffith scanned the room again. Caia was still nowhere to be seen. Roland was getting another drink. He looked as if he might fall over at any moment. He felt a finger tap his shoulder. It wasn't hard but, strangely, it hurt. Griffith looked over his shoulder.

Somewhere deep inside him he felt adrenaline hit his system. His eyes instinctively widened. His whole body tensed, preparing him to run.

“No hug for your brother?” The face of the grey-haired, scarecrow-like Lloyd Crane was not just familiar, but terrifying. Every day he woke up, Griffith prayed he would make it to bedtime without seeing that face. Yet there he was, and Griffith was faced with the stark, horrible notion that his life was over.

“Lloyd.” Griffith stepped away. “How?”

“Luck. After you escaped me at the bar I visited a friend in the area. I was there when he received an invitation to your execution.”

“You have friends?”

“Okay, that's a lie.” Lloyd laughed the words more than he spoke them. “I was killing someone in the area when he received an invitation. I accepted it for him.”

Griffith didn't answer. He was struck dumb with horror.

“I had hoped to convince Pentdragon to give me the honour of being your executioner. After your escape, he not only agreed to make me executioner but let me plan the whole thing.”

“This is a trap.”

“Don't be absurd.” Lloyd reached towards Griffith. He pushed the hand away and recoiled. “This is a wake. So few people get to attend their own wake. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“I'm not alone, Lloyd.” Griffith clenched his fists, fighting the pain in his arm. He mentally reprimanded himself for touching Lloyd. “You won't be able to kill all of us.”

“Is that a fact? I saw your big friend over at the bar. He won't get the jump on me this time.”

Griffith looked around the room. Caia was still nowhere to be seen.

“But let's invite them over. We'll see what I can or can't do to all of you.”

“Roland!” Griffith kept moving backwards, step by slow step. Lloyd stayed close to him, looking down on Griffith with a wide grin. Roland came stumbling through the crowd.

“What is it, kid?” He asked before noticing Lloyd. He gave Lloyd a quick look and then turned back to Griffith. “Oh, let me guess. You've made a new friend?”

“Not exactly.”

“You've found another... Uh...” He leaned closer to Lloyd and whispered “Are you a man or a woman.” Then swung himself back around to Griffith. “You've found another person to drag along with us to Salem.”

Griffith cringed.

“That's right, Thomas said you were going to Salem.” Lloyd smiled even wider.

“Thomas? Lloyd, no...” Griffith said.

“So it's true, is it? Griffith, I'm disappointed. Running off to our master's master for protection. Do you really think that will stop me?”

“What's he talking about, Griffith?” Roland asked, leaning on the younger man's shoulder for balance. Griffith didn't answer. He clamped his eyes down and focused on pouring his will and his magic into his arm until the pain died.

“Attention! Attention, everybody. Would you please give me a moment?” Lloyd clapped his hands together as he called out. The room fell quiet and every man and woman turned to face Lloyd.

“What's he doing?” Roland asked.

“Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen. I have spoken to many of you tonight but for those who have not had the pleasure, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lloyd Crane and I'm a visitor to the realm of Lord Pentdragon. Your good Lord has asked me to be a kind of Master of Ceremonies this evening. I do apologise for the sudden cancellation a few days ago. Now, before we get to the main event, I ask for you to be patient just a little longer. I would now like to invite Lord Pentdragon, himself, to join us – his loyal subjects – in witnessing the execution.” Seemingly from nowhere, a trumpet sounded. The guests silently parted to opposite sides of the room. Lloyd Crane bowed low towards the entrance. Lord Pentdragon walked in, his boots emphasising his presence with a loud clack at every step. Griffith turned to face him. Nobody else's shoes were that noisy. It must have been deliberate. It was the kind of measure Pentdragon would take to make himself more noticeable, more grand.

“Loyal subjects of the realm and my most trusted court, I welcome you into my home. Now that we are all here, you may proceed with the execution, Master Crane.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Lloyd stood straight and turned to face Griffith and Roland. “By the command of his most excellent--”

“Like hell!” It took him a while, but realisation dawned on Roland, so too did his typical ferocious anger.

Roland swung his fist out at Lloyd mid-sentence. Roland found his mark and struck the scarecrow-like man across the jaw. Lloyd bent with the blow, letting Roland push through him. Then, like a rubber band, he shot back, bringing his knee up into Roland's solar plexus. Roland felt his breath forced out of his lungs. He gasped to catch it. He came back with another punch. This time Lloyd was ready. He caught Roland's fist in his hand. Roland tried to pull away. Lloyd held him tight. He squeezed. The crushing pain stunned Roland. His arteries began to bulge and his skin turned pale. He felt like his chest had become wreathed in an inferno. Each weakening beat of his heart was a strain on his body. Griffith stood frozen in terror. The crowd had their eager gaze locked on the performance in front of them. Lord Pentdragon was already applauding. Lloyd kept hold, his grin somehow managing to spread even further around his face. Roland fell to his knees. In that moment he understood what it felt like to die. In that moment he was terrified.

*****

Caia sat up and rubbed her head. She could feel dry blood caked over her face. Her nose still ached and, for that matter, so did the rest of her body. She was in complete darkness but the weight of her satchel on her thigh was comforting. She groped through it blindly until she found a box of matches. She struck one and let her eyes adjust. There was no mistaking that she had been shoved in a storage closet and she shared her prison with some cleaning supplies and some bags. One of the bags she easily recognised as Roland's and, checking the other one, she confirmed her suspicions that it belonged to Griffith. After a little more looking she found a gap in the wall that marked a door. It had no handle and when she pushed against it, it refused to open. She felt the flame start to get hot on her fingers and flicked the match out. Caia stood up and pushed against the door again, this time bracing her feet against the opposite wall. The door wriggled in its frame but didn't open. That was good enough. Stepping back to the wall, Caia put her bag down and swept a clear path through the closet. She counted three and rushed forward. The flimsy lock on the door snapped off the wooden frame and she was free.