Authors: Steven Tolle
When he reached the Temple grounds, he found an apprentice to lead him to Jonas. Jonas was sitting in the small sanctuary off the main Temple, talking quietly with an older female cleric with gray-streaked hair.
Nathen sketched a quick bow. “Greetings, Brother Jonas. I have been sent to request your presence at the dungeons. A new prisoner is apparently very sick. Since they are not sure what is ailing him, I was to ask for you.”
“Of course.” Jonas replied, rising. Nathen saw him looking closely at his face. “Aren’t you one of Marcus’ friends? Nathen, I believe; the one who likes courting trouble.”
“Yes and no, Brother.” Nathen said with a smile. “I am Nathen, but I would not say I like courting trouble. I blame it on my parents for my poor upbringing.” He finished with aplomb.
Jonas chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, Nathen. Let us be off.”
“Is Marcus here? I would like to see him, if I could.” Nathen asked.
“I’m sorry, but he is at Mastersmith Norlan’s.” Jonas stated. “I’m sure you heard about what happened last night.”
Just my luck.
Nathen thought, shrugging. He was turning to lead Jonas away when a young male apprentice came running in.
“Master Jonas, please come quickly!” The boy said, panting. Jonas interrupted the boy by raising a hand.
“Wait!” Jonas said firmly. “Take a breath and speak slowly. A cleric must remain calm when others are falling apart.”
The boy flushed bright red, embarrassed. He did as he was told. After he released the breath, he spoke, choosing his words carefully. “Forgive me, Master, but a young child was brought into the clinic. She ran into the roadway and was struck by a wagon. The wagon was fully loaded when it ran over her. She is near death.”
Jonas seemed to hesitate, concern on his face, but the female cleric spoke up. “See to the child, Jonas. I will go with young Nathen here and check on this prisoner.”
“Thank you, Silvan.” Jonas said, sounding relieved. He followed the apprentice out, moving quickly.
“Let us go, Nathen.” Silvan said. “I would like to get back before it gets too late.”
“Right away, Sister.” He said with a mischievous grin.
While he led her back to the dungeons, he continued to try to get her to laugh. She smiled at his jokes, but not even a chuckle from her.
I always seem to get the serious types.
He thought disappointedly.
The dungeons were situated in the Military Quarter, near the edge of the courtyard. When they arrived, Nathen led her down to the first level, where the Royal Guard was posted. Standing in the stone hallway that led to the cells, speaking with the officer in charge, was the large man who served Marcus’ father. Justian was his name, Nathen recalled. He cocked an eyebrow at the sight of Silvan.
“You were told to bring Brother Jonas.” Justian said sharply to Nathen. “Was the order not clear enough for you?”
Nathen gritted his teeth, biting back a reply that could inflame the situation. Before he could say something, Silvan spoke.
“I am quite capable of determining what is troubling this prisoner.” She said directly, a frown on her face. “If it is something that I cannot handle, I will return with Brother Jonas.”
“As you wish, Sister.” Justian said with a nod of his head. He pointed at Nathen. “You can come and hold the torch for the cleric.”
Nathen looked over at the officer, grumbling under his breath, but the officer motioned for him to go.
Justian led them down the stairs, grabbing a torch and shoving it into Nathen’s hand. The torchlight did not seem to penetrate very far in the ever-present darkness. There was the slow steady sound of dripping water and the temperature grew colder as they descended.
When they reached the lowest level, Nathen saw that there were only a couple of Justian’s men standing guard outside of a heavy wooden door. Several torches lit the area. Nodding to the men, Justian turned to Silvan.
“The prisoner is being kept at the far end of the hallway, in the biggest cell.” He said as he unlocked the door. “I don’t know if what he has is catching, so be careful.”
“Why is a man being kept in such conditions?” Silvan snapped, gesturing at the area. “This is not healthy for the body or spirit.”
“I’m only following my orders, Sister.” Justian said. “You can address it with the king if you like.”
“I will do just that.” She replied. “Come along, Nathen. Let us see to this poor man.”
Beyond the door was a long and wide hallway. There were only a few torches lit, so the hall was checkered with patches of light and dark. They made their way down the hallway, Nathen feeling more and more apprehensive. He was looking around, trying to get familiar with the passage. They were almost to the far end when the door closed behind them, a dull boom echoing down the hall. As the door closed, it cut off the light from the outside torches and the sound made Nathen jump.
Suddenly, Silvan was blazing with power, the light throwing back the shadows. Directly ahead was a set of cell doors, standing open. “There is something wrong here, Nathen. Be ready.” She said.
Nathen nodded, drawing his sword. Silvan cautiously moved forward, entering the room.
The room was wide and empty. There was a secondary hallway in the far corner. The hallway space was pitch black, the wall shading it from Silvan’s glowing form. As they slowly approached it, a voice came from that blackness, freezing them where they stood.
“You are not who I was expecting.” The deep voice said, the sound terrifying Nathen to his core. Out of the darkness, a tall man-shaped figure stepped into the light.
“RUN!!” Silvan screamed at him as she unleashed a blazing streak of clerics’ fire at the figure. Nathen heard the crackling of conflicting powers and the sound of the demon laughing. He stumbled back as the demon struck at Silvan. She screamed a high-pitched scream as the dark fire burned into her. Somehow, she stayed on her feet, fighting though the pain, and attacked again.
In the flashes of light from the battle, Nathen saw the small hole in the floor that acted as the privy for the cell. Desperate, his terror overtaking him, he scrambled to it. He clawed at the stones, trying to pull them up. With the mortar weakened with age, he was able pry a few loose, enlarging the hole.
With a final cry of agony from Silvan as she fell, the battle behind him ended, the room plunging into darkness.
“Where are you going, my little rabbit?” The demon chuckled behind him. Over the pounding of his heartbeat, Nathen heard it coming for him.
Completely terrified, he dove forward, shoving himself into the privy hole headfirst. Gripping the stones, he pulled with all his strength. Suddenly, the whole thing gave way. He felt the agony of the demon’s fire as it struck his lower leg right before he fell, tumbling into the darkness in a rain of stone.
C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN
“Marcus.”
Marcus turned from the furnace when he heard Norlan call over to him, wiping the sweat from his face. He was at the smithy, wearing the same leather aprons and metal footgear as Norlan’s two apprentices. Jonas had suggested that he go to Norlan’s for the evening meal, so he could be around friends while they figured out what to do about Keria. After the meal, when Marcus and Norlan were talking outside, Norlan had suggested that he should come by the smithy and do some physical work to clear his mind. When he awoke this morning, he decided to take Norlan up on his offer.
Marcus had been hauling loads of wood, coal and iron, as well as working the bellows at the furnace, constantly moving. He only stopped when Madalin and Cherise had brought the mid-day meal for him and the others. The exertions had the intended effect; he was able to think about what had happened more calmly and rationally.
Norlan was standing over near his small office. Marcus was surprised to see Jonas standing there, but even more so to see Daen, his face looking even more serious than usual. Nodding to Almos, who was using the furnace, he left the smithy area and walked across the small yard to where they were standing.
Jonas looked at him critically, nodding slightly. “I’m glad to see you active. Too much sitting around brooding is not healthy.”
“I am grateful that Norlan made the offer.” Marcus replied. “I think that it has helped.”
“Excellent.” Jonas said. He then lowered his voice. “However, we have something more important to discuss.” He turned to Norlan. “May we use your office?”
“Of course, Jonas.” Norlan said and led them into the small room.
Once they were inside and the door was closed behind them, Jonas spoke again. “Daen came to the Temple looking for you, Marcus. He has something important to tell us.” He gestured to Daen.
“This morning, we began to get a series of orders, signed by the king.” Daen stated. “The orders began to reassign the Royal Guard. Some were ordered to augment the solders at the gates, but others were being sent to the remote border forts. At first, no one thought anything about it, since the numbers specified in each order were small, but when the orders continued, it became apparent that almost all of the Royal Guard was being sent from the palace. Helgrant went to see the king to protest, but came back with Sir Alleon, who was ordered to leave for the western forts immediately. Sir Alleon took twenty Guardsmen with him when he left.”
“Helgrant was assured that these deployments were temporary and informed that your father’s men-at-arms would fill in at the palace while the Royal Guard was away.” Daen shook his head. “Helgrant was furious, but gave the orders. After Sir Alleon left, he pulled me aside and told me to go and inform you and Brother Jonas. I was ordered to stay with you and not return to the palace, so at least one Royal Guard would be left in the city.”
Daen looked over at Jonas, who nodded. “Also, Nathen did not return from the dungeons last night. He hates the place, so he is usually back in the barracks as soon as his shift ends, but I have not seen him since he left yesterday afternoon.”
“Sister Silvan went with Nathen to attend to a sick prisoner, or so we were told.” Jonas interjected. “She did not return to the Temple. When I went to the dungeons this afternoon, looking for her, I was told that the logs showed that she had left around half an hour after she had arrived with Nathen. They told me that I could come inside and look myself, but I declined.” He paused. “There was something about it that disturbed me. Just so you know, all of the men at the dungeons were your father’s men.”
“What do you mean by that, Jonas?” Marcus asked, but felt a sudden hollowness inside. “I am angry with him and he is always in the middle of the court politics, but my father is not an enemy of the realm.”
“I appreciate your loyalty, Marcus.” Jonas said gently. “But something is very wrong here. Why would the king send the Royal Guard away, only to replace them with your father’s men? Also, when I went to the palace to discuss what happen to Silvan, I was turned away at the palace gates. The guards, your father’s men, said it was orders. I am the Chief Cleric of Sanduas; what reason would there be to keep me out? The only thing I can think of is to keep me away from the king. You saw how he was two nights ago. Combine that with what Daen has just told us, we cannot deny that there is an effort to surround the king with your father’s men. Who but your father would have the ability to so order his men?”
“I cannot believe that my father would move against the king.” Marcus stated, shaking his head. “They have been friends for a long time. There has to be another explanation.”
“If there is, we need to find out what it is.” Jonas said. He looked over at Norlan. “If you do not wish to be involved any further, Norlan, I understand. There may be great risk in investigating what has happened.”
“If you are that concerned, Jonas, then so am I.” Norlan said, squaring his shoulders. “It is unlikely that if something bad happens it would pass my family by. I’m not sure what help I can be, but I am with you.”
“Thank you, Norlan.” Jonas said. He looked at each of them in turn. “We need to be cautious. Daen and I will return to the Temple. Marcus, you and Norlan should continue as if nothing has happened. Finish your work, and then head home. Once it starts to get dark, come to the Temple. We have much to discuss.”
…
Keria pulled on her dressing robe as the seamstresses left her room, taking the fabric samples with them, deep in discussion over the details of her wedding gown. She stepped off the small pedestal near the mirror and began pacing around her bedroom.
She hated that her father was forcing her to marry that odious man. She had spoken to her father at length, alternatively pleading and demanding, trying to reach him and have him call the wedding off. She had begged him to allow her to marry Marcus, arguing that it would still allow the joining with Lord Marcelas’ family, but with someone that she loved. Her father rejected it out of hand, finally ordering her to her room and forbidding her to discuss it any further.
To make matters worse, when she had tried to leave the palace grounds this morning, she was turned back. The Royal Guard on duty told her that her father had ordered her confined in the palace until after the wedding. That had sent her into a rage. She stormed into her father’s chambers, demanding to know why she was a prisoner. He told her that it was for her own good, to prevent her from doing something rash. That was too much for her. She lost any sense of propriety, yelling and cursing at him, threating to cut him out of her life forever. He had responded in kind, his face growing red, bellowing at her, telling her to stay in her quarters or he would have her put in chains.
Despite her frustration and anger, she was worried for her father. He did not seem himself. When she first spoke with him after the announcement, he was pale and sweating, his hands shaking slightly as he drank his wine. He had refused to allow her to send for Jonas, saying he was fine. He did not look any better today.