“They bleed and die,” Dwiskter whispered, as if the cowardly ghosts of the dead guards at Hoffnung Bay could hear him.
Both Dwiskter and Bausch turned to see Lehrling gallop past. His pursuing enemy slowed his warhorse at the sight of his two dead comrades. Instead of retreating, he stopped the horse and dismounted. A growl escaped his mouth while he paced back and forth.
The Vyking drew his short sword, raising it and his heavy long sword into the air, which was his challenge for both of his opponents to take him on simultaneously.
Dwiskter took a deep breath and looked at Bausch. Bausch nodded. Both took a step toward the Vyking when the warrior stiffened and dropped to the road dead.
“What the—?” Dwiskter asked, looking around.
Bausch cautiously lowered his blade and looked around as well.
An arrow protruded from the back of the Vyking’s helm.
With a grave look of concern, Dwiskter scanned the roadway and saw no one near the gates. He searched amongst the scattered trees along the roadway, but in the faint light of the moon, he wasn’t able to see who had fired the arrow.
Lehrling returned and stopped his horse near them.
“Who fired the arrow?” Lehrling asked.
“Don’t rightly know,” Dwiskter replied gruffly. He scratched at his beard uneasily.
“T’would be I,” a female said from the edge of the path that led back to Pig-Sty Tavern.
Bausch watched her step from the shrubs. “Sarey?”
“Aye,” she said softly, lowering her hood. She placed her bow over her shoulder.
“A remarkable shot,” Lehrling said.
She laughed. “Not any different than piercing the heart of a great stag in the forests.”
“Ye hunt?” Dwiskter said.
“I do when I don’t work the fields or serve drinks to my father’s patrons.”
Lehrling’s eyebrows rose. “Joss is your father?”
“Aye.”
“Never knew that,” he replied.
“We tend not to make it public knowledge. It helps with my tips, whenever I get them.”
“What brings you here?” Lehrling asked.
“You left without paying for your drinks.”
Dwiskter howled with laughter and slapped a knee.
Lehrling took a small pouch of gold coins from his belt and tossed them to her. “That should more than cover our drinks, your tip, and a generous amount of our thanks for dropping that third Vyking.”
Sarey hefted the pouch in her hand, nodded, and smiled. “Tis more than enough.”
She walked to the dead Vyking, grabbed the arrow shaft, and yanked the bloody tip from the Vyking’s skull. She knelt beside the corpse and asked, “What kind of man is this?”
“Vyking. Journey back to your father’s tavern,” Lehrling said, “and tell him and everyone else in your hamlet that the City of Hoffnung has fallen. Our beloved Queen Taube is dead. The Vykings have invaded. Your people may not be safe, so prepare yourselves.”
Sarey nodded. Sadness filled her eyes. “Aye. Word of Hoffnung’s fall will sweep from our hamlet to all those that neighbor us before the sun rises. My father will send my brothers out on horseback to warn the other hamlets.”
She grabbed the dead Vyking’s sword and walked back to the narrow pathway that led to Pig-Sty Tavern. She glanced back with disappointment at Bausch before she disappeared into the thick shrubs that outlined the darker forest path.
Lehrling saw her gaze and knew he had misjudged her. She really did like Bausch and not just to coax his gold from him. He felt his heart drop that he had thought what he had, especially as long as they had been patrons at her father’s tavern.
The dwarf grabbed the reins of one warhorse. “Someone help me upon this giant beast.”
Bausch stepped beside him. He cupped his hands together to offer footing for the dwarf.
Dwiskter wagged a finger at Bausch and said, “Careful of me shoulder now. I warned ye before.”
Bausch boosted the dwarf until Dwiskter finally swung his stubby leg over the saddle. Cautious of his shoulder, the dwarf adjusted himself in the saddle, and held the reins. His feet were nowhere near reaching the stirrups. He looked like a Halfling or a gnome upon a regular sized horse. Dwiskter groaned from embarrassment, even though no one ridiculed his dilemma.
“Be heading to Icevale,” Dwiskter said. “Not sure what your plans be, but Hoffnung isn’t exactly hospitable anymore.”
Bausch mounted his steed and rode to Lehrling’s side.
“No argument here,” Lehrling replied.
Lehrling sighed while flexing his right hand. The feeling was gradually returning to his fingers. He hated feeling so old.
The moon brightened as the night grew darker. He counted the bodies on the cobblestone road. Glancing toward the Hoffnung gates, more mounted warriors came forth. He quickly attempted a headcount and after six, with more pressing behind them, Lehrling said to Dwiskter, “How many Vykings did you say came into the harbor?”
“More than I could count in all the havoc.”
“Best guess?”
“Hundreds. Perhaps a couple of thousand. The bay was thick with fog.”
Worry creased the wrinkles around Lehrling’s eyes. He nodded toward the dozen Vyking riders leaving the front gates. “We’d all best head west of here. Quickly.”
Chapter Seven
Nessa and Dawn reached the bottom of the spiral stairs in the dark catacombs and stood before an iron door. A small open grid allowed only the slightest view of what lay on the other side of the door. Nessa grabbed the metal lever and tried to push it out of the latch but couldn’t dislodge it.
Over time, the damp air had rusted the metal into place.
“My hands hurt too badly to budge it,” she whispered.
“Let me try,” Dawn replied.
She put both hands around the metal handle and tugged. It didn’t move. Not even in the slightest.
Dawn placed one bare foot against the wall and pushed while pulling the lever again with both hands. Pieces of thick rust broke free. The bar moved with a harsh grinding sound and a sudden thwack. With the amount of force she had used, she lost balance when the bar slid loose suddenly. She barely caught herself against the wet, perspiring wall.
Nessa lifted the torch and quickly stepped aside to keep Dawn from crashing into her.
“Are you okay?” Nessa asked.
Dawn wiped her wet hands on her pants. “Yes.”
Nessa pulled the door inward. The hinges moaned, releasing sharp piercing sounds that made them both cringe.
Before Dawn exited the stairwell, she pressed her hand against the doorframe and made a silent oath to her ancestors resting in the sepulchers floors above her. I will come back to claim our throne and kingdom.
She didn’t understand her sudden resolve and determination. But every word she put forth in her mind, she meant. The days of bright pastel gowns and the finest foods were over, at least until she ruled her mother’s kingdom. If that was the worst part of her sacrifice, she accepted it.
Dawn pulled the door toward her and eased it shut. The lock mechanism clicked. No keyhole or latch was on the outside of the door. There was no going back up. To reach the surface, they would need to find their way through the sewer tunnels.
She thought about her father’s hidden study. Not only had she memorized the names on the list, but she kept the map images impressed upon her memory as well. She had always held the ability to recall things she noted to be of great importance.
Dawn knew all the hidden passageways in the castle—with the exception of the one inside her closet—but the sewers were the one place she had never ventured.
The torchlight flickered in the sudden gusty breeze.
The air was getting harsher to breathe.
“Are we in the sewers?” Dawn asked.
“Yes. Keep your voice at a whisper.”
“Why?”
Nessa faced Dawn and whisp
ered, “Rats are not the only filth that occupy the sewers. Thieves and vagabonds live here, too.”
“How can this be safer than taking our chances through the courtyard or through the city square?”
“Because we can surface at other places in Hoffnung without being seen by the guards.”
“So do you know your way around these sewers, Nessa?”
Nessa shook her head. “No. I’m as lost as you.”
“And if thieves find us? What then?”
Nessa frowned. “Thieves prowl the city at night looking for opportunities to steal. Most likely they won’t be down here. I was just warning you in case we happened upon someone. That way you can run.”
“And leave you behind?” Dawn asked. Worry filled her eyes. “I could never do that.”
“You are the only heir to the throne and crown. Not me. So if the worst happens, make certain that you escape with your life. I’m of no importance when it comes to redeeming Hoffnung.”
“I won’t abandon you,” Dawn said softly.
Nessa whispered, “There may not be any choice in the matter.”
The sewers weren’t in total darkness, but the few light sources were a good distance apart. Torches hissed and flickered every forty yards or so.
The thought of thieves and vagrants lurking in the shadows caused Dawn to focus more on listening and watching for anything that moved suddenly beneath the light of the torches. She didn’t have a weapon to defend herself, so she took lighter steps when she moved.
The worst part about having to pose as a teenage boy was that she didn’t have any shoes, either. She had left the slippers beneath her father’s table and chosen to walk barefoot. Several times she had stepped into unidentifiable squishy substances on the rock steps. Sometimes it was tacky and stretched when she took her next step forward. A couple of times the gummy stuff moved. Those were times she was thankful Nessa held the torch and not her.
The narrow passageway widened. The strange odors that permeated the air tightened Dawn’s throat. She became dizzy and covered her nose with a ratty piece of cloth. As badly as it smelled, she wondered how others lived in such a place and how they had adapted to it.
Drips of water pinged and blooped onto the surface of the wide thick ooze that crept along the sewer channel. Louder splashes echoed farther down the passage, which sounded more like living creatures that had accidentally fallen into the waste. Or swam in the pools. Her imagination tried to produce reasons for each sound she heard. But she also reasoned that if thieves lived here, they would know the tunnels well enough to never worry about falling in. What else hid here?
Nessa stood still. Fear had paralyzed her.
“What’s wrong?” Dawn asked.
“I don’t know which way to go.” The old woman looked disoriented. Her breathing seemed more labored than when she came down the spiraling stairs.
“Would you like me to lead?”
“Give me a minute,” the maid replied. “Let me think.”
“Oh, come on,” Dawn said, taking her hand.
“We must be careful which direction we go. The wrong path will –”
Dawn squeezed the woman’s hand gently. “If neither of us have been here before, there isn’t a wrong path to take because we don’t know where we’ll end up. Choices are something we must chance on occasions. Now is one of those times. Standing in one spot too long will only waste precious time. For all we know the guards that killed my mother might have found the hidden door in my closet and are on their way down the stairwell.”
“I vowed to your mother on the day you were born that I’d always watch over you and protect you for as long as I lived.”
“And you have.”
Nessa’s old hands shook. The torch dropped from her hand and rolled on the sewer floor. Dawn grabbed the torch before the dampness extinguished the flame. When she turned to face the old woman, Nessa had plopped down on her butt in a shallow puddle of water.
Nessa’s voice was filled with sorrow. “I can no longer protect you.”
“What are you saying?” Dawn asked.
The old woman clutched her chest. Pain widened her eyes. “I’m sorry. The end of my life is near, child. I’ve lived many years beyond what I ever expected to. To watch you grow. To see you dance and smile has given me much joy. And now, I fear what might become of you. My heart cannot take anymore loss.”
“I can get you out of here,” Dawn said. Determination glowed in her eyes.
“No. Even if you got me to the surface, I won’t live many hours more. I’m worn and old. I’d just slow you down.”
“Nonsense,” Dawn said, extending her hand toward Nessa. “You’re all I have left.”
Tears etched down Nessa’s cheeks. “You will have so much more than you’ll ever imagine. I see the grace of your mother in you, child. But I also see the stubborn cunning streak your father had, too. You’ll fight to the death even when the odds greatly outnumber you. Unlike your father, though, you will win. You will survive.”
Nessa slumped back on the cold wet sewer floor. Dawn knelt beside her. She gently shook the maid’s shoulder. Moving the torch closer, only the whites of Nessa’s eyes shown. Her chest didn’t rise or fall.
“Nessa,” Dawn whispered. “Come on. Get up. Please.”
Nessa didn’t respond or move. She was dead.
“Damn,” Dawn said quietly.
“What’s a young lad like you doing deep in the Hoffnung Sewers unannounced?” a voice said from behind her.
She turned quickly, only to face three men wearing dark robes and hoods. Each had a sharp dagger drawn. And even with the torch she was unable to detect what race any of them were. What she did understand was that none of them meant her any good.
Chapter Eight
Atop his tower in Spellhaven, Zauber outstretched his arms and meditated as the thick fog drifted off the two rivers that cascaded on both sides of the inlet where his tower stood. Wind tossed his long black hair and ruffled his long flowing beard. A small storm grew off the east coast and would probably come ashore over the southern swamps of Woodnog.
Zauber welcomed the thunder and bursts of yellow lightning. The energy of a storm invigorated him, especially where he lived. Since trees and magical mists hid the wizard’s tower, adventurers rarely happened upon his locale, and the few that had succeeded were chased away by invisible creatures with threatening roars.
His deep mediation was broken by the alarmed cry of his black raven perched inside the Hall of Mirrors on the floor below. Each enchanted mirror offered a panoramic overhead view of one major city in Aetheaon. The distressed raven stood outside Hoffnung’s mirror.
The wizard approached cautiously while running his hand through his winding black beard. No such alarm had disturbed his keep since King Erik’s death. Concern and dread took control of his facial expressions.
“What has befallen Hoffnung now?” he asked in an astonished whisper.
He propped his staff against the mirror, scooped the raven into his hands, and stroked the back of the bird’s head, trying to calm it. He waved his right hand before the front of the glass. The silver mirrored glass rippled like smooth water suddenly disturbed by a dropped pebble.
With the gentle wave of his hand, images within the city enlarged, taking him to the harbor docks where the Vykings had invaded. Never had he envisioned such a number of Vyking ships in any one port.
Zauber shook his head. He released the raven and it took to flight, disappearing out the window into the night. He took his staff and stared intently at the dark City of Hoffnung.
“Hear ye! Hear ye! Queen Taube is dead! Long live and reign Lord Waxxon, your King and Ruler!” the town crier’s voice echoed through the mirror.
The news struck Zauber hard. He leaned against the staff to prevent his knees from buckling. His mind reeled and his soul was greatly troubled. He had known that darkness was growing inside Aetheaon, but he never thought such a blatant intrusion would occur this soon.
The wizard had spent years watching the Black Chasm, trying to discern exactly what Tyrann sought to achieve, but the black swirling mists were impossible for even Zauber’s magic to penetrate. The only true way to know what lay inside the chasm was to enter the veil of darkness that enclosed the City of Mortel.
The town crier asserted his message once more. Zauber gained his composure enough to gaze into the Hoffnung portal, knowing that Waxxon’s hand had been in the cataclysm inside the city.
“Waxxon?” he asked aloud. “Betrayer. May death find and take you swiftly.”
Zauber stared into the mirror, watching the streets, but other than the utter chaos of what appeared to be the city guards turning on one another, he didn’t detect Lady Dawn’s presence.
The crier had not reported anything about her or whether she had survived. But Waxxon? He had always seemed a dark, sinister lord that Queen Taube had granted too much opinion and authority. The lord’s eyes were always dark, shifty, and his lust for power oozed from his aura. Why hadn’t she seen his lust for power?
Sadly, Zauber had warned Taube several times when she had sought his counsel, but she never took his warning about Waxxon seriously. Since the lord had married Taube’s niece, she considered him family, and regardless of a wizard’s readings, family was a bond to be trusted. Such a belief was foolhardy when titles and land deeds factored into marital arrangements. Some married only to gain wealth and notoriety. Others, like Waxxon, used such bonds to gain even more, hoping to secretly rally troops and citizens to back them in a coup based upon empty promises.
With his staff outstretched, Zauber cast an incantation to trace Dawn’s whereabouts, but the spell came back empty. It didn’t mean that she was dead, but it didn’t give him any conclusive evidence that she was still alive, either.
Knowing Waxxon, he’d seek to find and kill Dawn since she was the only true heir to the throne. But if a wizard were unable to find her, he wondered how well Waxxon would fare?
With Vykings overtaking Hoffnung’s only port, they now controlled the seas between the city and the Isles of Welkstone, which presented more problems for all of Aetheaon and not just Hoffnung.
Lady Squire- Dawn's Ascension Page 7
