Talgath fires but misses. The man winces in agony and is unable to fire with his right shoulder. His long rifle is now useless. He drops it and removes his speed shooter with his left hand. Like any marksman gunslinger, he is also ambidextrous but favors his right hand.
Talgath expends several more rounds of his long rifle and pauses long enough for the shooter to think that he has run out of bullets. His ploy works. The man, thinking that Talgath has run out of bullets, makes a run for it.
Talgath smiles in anticipation. He lines up his sites, holds his breath and takes deliberate aim, squeezing the trigger at the last possible second. The bullet pierces the man through the neck and exits out of the back, severing his spinal cord. The man drops to the ground, paralyzed and choking on the blood that gushes from his neck and mouth. He twitches and is still in less than a minute.
Talgath runs from his hiding place and towards the caravan.
Stallmite proceeds back to the caravan at full gallop. Before he reaches it, he hears the gunfire begin and knows they are in a fight for their lives. There is no mistaking it. As he gallops back, something catches his eye. It is the Captain’s journal.
A matter of expediency demands that he join the gunfight and protect the King’s caravan, but something draws him to the journal. It is as if he has become a prisoner in his own body. He slows down, dismounts and picks up the journal, though a part of his mind is screaming in protest. He must protect the King’s gold. And his brothers are in mortal danger.
Still, he is drawn to the journal. Milton will want it back and perhaps there are clues in there, which may help identify the men who have perpetrated such vicious acts. Stallmite puts the journal in his bag and gallops off.
The gunshots continue and with them, he barely makes out the agonizing screams of the fallen. When Stallmite approaches within viewing range of the Caravan, he can clearly see that the oak door to the safe room has been breached. They have made it in that far, which means that he may be too late. The two guards securing the safe room are surely dead.
A shot rings out and snaps off a large branch only a few feet from his head. The horse whinnies and Stallmite overcompensates and sends the horse off, veering into the other direction. Was it intentional? Stallmite wonders.
Instead of turning around, Stallmite keeps going and continues to gallop off into the opposite direction. As if he is what? Fleeing from the scene? As Stallmite sees it, he has only two choices: He can go back and join his crew in certain death or gallop off and continue until he is a safe distance away, try to get his bearings and then decide the best course of action. The safehold is breached. There is very little he can do about that.
The best course of action for him is to reconvene with his Captain. And where is his Captain in the wake of this security breach? Stallmite is inextricably drawn to the journal. When he feels he is at a safe distance, he disembarks from his horse under a whispering willow and sits down, trying to slow his chest-pounding heart.
When he opens the journal, his heart does not slow down but speeds up. He reads. His eyes dilate, and an almost inaudible moan escapes from his lips. The journal documents Milton’s dealings and treachery every day. It coincides with the robberies that have been perpetrated against the King’s caravan of gold. Names. Dates. The dealings with Herod Antipaz and how he coerced Milton into this unholy union. Stallmite is speechless.
The sting of betrayal hits home but is overshadowed by his own impending death. Stallmite is at an impasse. He has abandoned his men in the act of a vicious assault on the caravan, an act punishable by death. Stallmite does not kid himself. Abandonment is nothing less than desertion. Menelaeus has been known to exercise leniency in extraordinary circumstances, but self-preservation is stronger than faith in his mercy.
There is absolutely no question. Stallmite was supposed to be among the dead. No matter what direction he takes, his life is forfeit. Perhaps if he were to go to Menelaeus himself, then maybe there would be a lesser charge. Like exile or imprisonment. None of those choices seem to be particularly appealing to him.
After ascertaining that all of Milton’s men had fallen, Felinius walks up to the safehold and looks in. He nods to Talgath. “Well done, Talgath. You have proven your mettle. Herod will be pleased.”
“It was exhilarating.”
“Ai. It was,” says Felinius. “But in time, it will wear off and with it, you will come back to the realization that we are nothing more than treacherous swine, doing the work of the devil himself. But I would think you have earned yourself a visit. If you still wish to see your family.”
“It’s all I wish for.”
“Balken, bring the tools hither. At tempest halt!”
“Ai,” says Balken.
Felinius extracts the hammer and chisel. With all the considerable force he can muster, Felinius pounds the chisel into the crack of the safe as far as he can. He then takes a diamond cutter which works on a retractable motor. Felinius turns the gear shift several times, causing the motor to whirl rapidly. When it does, he aims it at the lock of the safe. It cuts into the lock, pulverizing the mechanism down and then stops when the motor slows down.
Felinius removes the diamond cutter and repeats the process. After several times of repeating this process, the lock is sufficiently destroyed. He hammers into the crack of the safe and the door opens, revealing the contents inside-raw, gold bullion bars, worth several thousand gold pence. It is more money than five men could spend in a lifetime, were they not trying to overthrow the government.
Talgath is impressed. Though he has robbed for many years, it is more money than he has seen in one place.
“Revel in it whilst you can, Talgath. It is more than anyone of us will see again in one place,” reminds Felinius.
“Ai,” says Talgath.
Felinius and Talgath hear another rider approaching. They look to confirm. It is Milton. Odd. He appears frenzied.
“The campaign is over and successful, Milton. Why the decrepit brow?” asks Felinius. He smiles and says it in jest but the worried look on Milton’s face causes the smile to run away from his face.
“What is it, Milton?” asks Felinius, a little more emphatically.
“Stallmite, an underling. He was not among the fallen.”
“What of it? If he abandoned his position, he is a deserter and his life is forfeit. Why does it concern us?”
“It’s not that simple,” says Milton with mounting dread.
“Why?” asks Felinius. “What are you leaving out?”
Milton pauses, unsure of whether to go on, but he must. Their lives are on the line, which includes his family. He cannot abandon them.
“Stallmite is unaccounted for. As is my journal.”
Felinius frowns and his eyes attempt to bore into Milton’s skull. “A detailed journal?”
“Ai.”
“How detailed?” asks Felinius.
Milton forces his mouth to swallow. His tongue enlarges inside his mouth. “It documents everything we have done- places, people, acts of treachery we have committed, so on-”
“And so fucking forth,” says Felinius acidly.
“What do we do?” asks Talgath. “Surely, Herod will hold us accountable for this. You ken?”
“The question is what do we do about it?” asks Felinius. “Set watch and warrant it, Stallmite is running scared like beleaguered fawns who have a pack of wolves surrounding them. He has abandoned his post in a time of crisis, the same as desertion. Is it not?”
“Ai. Technically, but it could be argued otherwise.”
“But you know of his mind, Milton. He is your first officer. What of his integrity? What do you ken that he will do in light of this?” asks Felinius.
“It is hard to predict. He is a man of integrity, a true compatriot, and an officer to Gilleon, but these are desperate circumstances. I do not know what he will do in light of his Commander’s treachery.”
“Can he be bought? Threatened? Is he a smart man?”
“Very. He
is astute beyond measure.”
“Then he knows the power of Herod Antipaz stretches far. His life will always be in danger,” says Felinius.
“There are at least a dozen telegraph machines between here and New Camelot. You ken?” asks Milton. “If his conscience were to get the best of him, he could always get a message to Menelaeus.”
“We need to tell Herod,” says Talgath.
Felinius and Milton look at Talgath for a moment, as if they are considering such an option. “No,” says Felinius sharply. Milton nods his head in relief. “We’ll handle this ourselves. Quietly. No need to tempt the devil. You ken?”
Milton and Talgath nod and seem relieved. “I know of a man in Brandmore, a small town not forty miles from here. He will heed the call and severe this loose end.”
“This loose end is my first officer who I have known since academy. He is a man of great wor-”
Felinius cuts him off. “Save it, Milton. This is your oversight and any blowback we receive from it will be on your head. There is no other choice. We must eliminate your man. Or would you rather he walks into Menelaeus’ receiving chamber with a journal in hand?”
Milton shakes his head. “No, I would not have it so.” He looks at Felinius. “This man you speak of, how well are you acquainted?”
“Well.”
“You trust him?”
“Ai. And he owes me his life. He is a ghost like us. But unlike us, he remains dead even to the likes of Herod Antipaz.”
“You spared him?” Milton asks.
“Why?” Talgath asks.
“In our world, no telling when you will need to recross a bridge. Sometimes they are better left intact. A man spared is as good as gold. Never know when you will need a favor. You ken?” asks Felinius.
Milton clasps Felinius on the back. “You have earned my respect by defying Herod. It is well.”
“We will not speak of this anymore,” says Felinius. “As of this moment, Stallmite and that journal do not exist. Agreed?”
Felinius and Talgath nod their heads.
Chapter 35: Necessary Ruse
“And so, let us not mourn the death of our beloved Councilman, Pontius Selenius III, for too long. He would not have it so. We are here to honor and celebrate his life, a loving, attentive and benevolent father, not just to his own kin but to our country. He was a beloved patriot who gave his life to the cause of Gilleon.”
Merlin pauses. “And when corruption inevitably reared its ugly head in our own chambers, Pontius stayed true to cause, to prolong and sustain our country through his Christian ideals, benevolent attributes and unwavering mindset. He is a reminder to Gilleon there are people who lead this country worthy to be men of Gilleon. We salute them all.”
Herod and Morgana exchange a look between each other and roll their eyes and then downcast their eyes, unable to stifle a smile.
“Pontius has left those of us remaining to continue the fight to preserve our country from those who would destroy it from the inside. Personally, I knew Pontius well and loved him as if he were my own family. We have heard from others who share my sentiments. Let us give thanks and pray to God:” The huge crowd bows their head, many including Ophelia and Lonnie still sobbing quietly.
“We commit ourselves to you Oh, Lord and know not why you would choose to take one so benevolent so prematurely, but it is your will and we submit to it. Perhaps in time, it will be clear.”
“Ai,” says the crowd in unison.
“We present ourselves to you and everything we are we commit to Christ, first knight.”
“Ai. It is so,” says the crowd.
“Permit us to mourn the loss of one of our own councilman and Christian who you welcome in your embrace.”
“Ai. It is so,” says the crowd.
“Amen,” says Merlin. The crowd opens their eyes. “Let us commence with communion.”
Merlin initiates communion, and the crowd proceeds up to the altar, while Merlin puts the body of Christ in their mouths, which is loafen bread. And then they take the communion wine. The service ends and Merlin stays to comfort the grieving, especially the immediate family of Pontius.
When the crowd disperses and everyone is gone, Syrus, Atteus, Domithicus and Germanicus approach Merlin.
“We are going to Malley’s Pub, Merlin. We would have you join us,” says Germanicus, clasping him on the shoulder.
“And I say thankee, but I would like to remain and reflect.”
“No one blames you, Merlin, set watch and warrant it,” says Domithicus. “If we had implied that-”
Merlin cuts him off. “I know, Dom, but I blame myself. In time, I’ll forgive myself for the oversight but now I must pray and reflect. Please don’t take my absence as a personal affront. You ken?”
They shake their heads. “We never would, Merlin.” Says Atteus.
“But in case you change your mind,” says Syrus. “We will reserve a chair at our side.”
“My place is always at your side, brother. Set watch and warrant it, our bond is unbreakable. You ken?”
“Ai.” They mutter. They leave, clasping Merlin around the forearms. Germanicus gives a more passionate embrace and whispers in his ear. “You are not a god. You should remember such and perhaps you will forgive yourself sooner.”
“Ai. And I say thankee brother.”
After all the brethren have gone, except for Merlin, a shadowy figure steps out from the back of the vestibule. He is reluctant to proceed, peering around the corner to check for any lingering guests.
“There are none,” booms Merlin. “I did tell you to wait until I brought you out. Did I not?”
“Ai. Cry pardon, Merlin.”
Pontius approaches his corpse and feels the spongy, yet resilient flesh. The bones underneath feel like real bones. He opens the eyelids and touches the eyeballs.
“Glass,” says Merlin. “I knew none of the mourners would try to inspect the corpse as you have. They are not so fascinated.”
“What is it made of?” asks Pontius.
“Paraffin wax, hardened with steam, taproot resin and wooden bones, made from amberwood. Your corpse is about three times heavier than you are, but then I knew no one would be lifting you.”
Milton laughs. “Fascinating,” says Pontius. “You never let me in on your plan.”
“I needed your reaction to be genuine. If you had been informed, she would have read it from your mind.”
“That pin-prick I felt?”
“A dart I had shot into you on the sly.”
“What was in it?”
“Adrenaline taken from the adrenal gland of the hind-serpent. Extremely potent. Only two drops were needed to sustain your life. Four would have completely combated the poison. You would have come out of it completely unscathed, defeating the purpose. It would have killed the ploy. Two drops and your heart rate slowed beyond the ability to detect it. Everyone had to believe you were dead.”
Pontius looks at Merlin and laughs. “Well, it certainly worked. Your brothers were fooled.”
“Of course. Morgana is a powerful telepath. Couldn’t risk it.”
Pontius sighs. “We cannot tell Lonnie. This I know, but you must allow me to tell my wife, Ophelia. She will be mad, but it will be outweighed by relief.”
“No,” says Merlin sharply. “It will be easily surmised, without the aid of a powerful telepath. You must remain dead even to her. In time, you will make a miraculous resurrection. But for now, for your safety, you must remain dead to the world.”
Pontius sighs heavily. He looks at Merlin in a beseeching manner. “Not even my wife? She would keep the secret.”
“She would try but it would be easy to pluck from her, like having a hungry wolf as a nursemaid for a newborn sow.”
Pontius nods his head. “Ai. Don’t much like it but will abide by it. I thankee Merlin. You have saved my life and I’ll not easily forget it.”
“I have saved it for a reason. Please allow me to keep you alive further. I th
ankee as well. Your service to Gilleon will not be forgotten either. I can’t promise you the accommodations of your former life, but you will be comfortable. And most importantly, alive.”
Pontius nods his head. “Ai, Merlin. We are well met.”
Chapter 36: Blissful Reunion
In the clearing outside the meadow and abutted short of the forest, Talgath approaches the sprawling brick mansion. Against the thick forest, it obscures the palatial mansion’s true size. The third story of the home gives an ample view of oncoming riders.
Talgath knocks on the massive oak door. It is so thick only a battering ram could knock it over. Many guards accompany Tennilus to the front door. After the presumed assassination, Lonnie is not taking any chances. With Tennilus’ urging, she has tripled the guards.
Tennilus shares his master’s dislike and mistrust of Talgath, aware of his devious and malicious exploits in Cortez. Yet, there is little he can do. He is honor bound to the home. If Lonnie is to welcome Talgath, he must do so as well. Gilleon shares no extradition treaty with Cortez, which is amuck with anarchy in many of its city-states.
In some circumstances, certain despicable fugitives are arrested and returned to Cortez. But with Herod allegedly harboring Talgath, it would be a messy predicament leading to Tennilus’ demise. And where would that leave Lonnie?
Tennilus peers at Talgath with suspicion, unable to hide his mistrust. “How fareth, Tennilus? It has been many years. We are well met.” Talgath extends his hand. Tennilus reluctantly accepts it.
“We are well met so long as Lonnie permits it to be. You ken? Your malicious deeds did not go unnoticed by your father. I ken that were he still alive, you would not be welcome here. You will remain here so long as the Lady of the house permits it. You ken?”
Talgath nods his head. “Ai. I’ll be on my best behavior, set watch and warrant it. I only wish to regain my former life.”
“Trust is earned, and you have far to go to win mine. I ken that winning my approval will not be by aligning yourself with the likes of Herod.”
“By his hand is the only reason I draw breath. Owe him for my life, so I do. But know that the welfare of my family is paramount. It is the thing I care about most.”
The Test of Ostra Page 21
