He followed his intuition as he crept cautiously up the stairs, keeping his own footfalls muffled, lest they draw any unwelcome attention. The Captain prowled stealthily until he reached the landing, Kael and Raelynne right on his heels. A corridor opened up ahead of them with doors leading off it on both sides. In the middle of the corridor the silhouette of a seated figure could be seen and he was mumbling to himself grumpily as the three of them snuck up on him with measured steps. The man’s mutterings became louder as they stalked closer.
“I can’t believe I have to play nursemaid to a brat who is still wet behind the ears,” the man fumed.
Ydari, Kael and Raelynne froze on the spot as the irritable man sneezed violently. He wiped the snotty residue on his legs, much to Raelynne’s disgust as she let out an audible groan of revulsion. The man craned his head around to investigate the source of the noise. Upon seeing the intruders, he shot up from his chair in a flash, the chair clattering to the floor loudly as he did so. Kael offered him a cheeky wave and everyone remained as still as statues, the cogs whirring slowly in the Guard’s brain as he considered what to do. He suddenly opened his mouth to shout a warning but he was cut off brusquely as Ydari lunged at him, clotheslining the man across the neck and dropping him to the floor with a tremendous thud. The injured guard hacked and coughed as he tried to find his voice. His efforts were for nought however as the Captain clasped his greasy follicles before driving his face into the solid wooden floor and in no time at all he was rendered unconscious.
“Help me,” hissed Ydari as he grabbed the man’s arms.
Kael raced over and between the two of them they hauled the guard’s inert frame to a door and opened it awkwardly. They dropped him in unceremoniously and closed the door. Once that had been taken care of, the trio turned back to the room that had been under guard and pushed it open with an ominous creak. The room in front of them was dark save for a candle that had been placed on the window sill on the far side. In the prevailing shadows the shape of a bed with a chair stood beside it could be made out. The outline of a child was sitting stiffly on the bed.
Instantly Raelynne stepped into the room and padded over to the boy who sat as if in a state of perpetual terror. The mage beheld the face of the young Prince Ferilan, his face was streaked with tears and he shook visibly. She did her best to reassure him as she patted him on the shoulder. Ydari and Kael followed behind Raelynne when suddenly the sound of a rope being tugged was heard followed by the din of a warning bell sounding. Laughter cackled from behind and they turned to see the figure of Arlydd pulling on a bell pull enthusiastically. A few seconds later the thunder of armoured boots raced up the staircase and Ydari knew that in only a few seconds they would be cornered.
“I knew you couldn’t resist coming to the boy’s aid,” Arlydd laughed triumphantly. “In fact, I was counting on it. And now you’ve walked right into my trap.”
Chapter Twelve
Kalythyll, leader of the Draconis Legium, hushed his distracted colleague as his head danced about looking for enemies lurking in every doorway and shadow. Gryliaar was loyal and dependable; far from being a towering intellect but he did have a cunning nature that often made him useful. Kalythyll drew his robes about him to keep the biting chill at bay as he swept past scores of unsavoury alleyways and dilapidated structures, trusting his keenly attuned senses to guide him through the gloom and to avoid unnecessary confrontations. Travelling through Mal Ithir at night was not desirable, Kalythyll thought to himself, but it beat whatever horrors Trelech’s twisted mind could conjure.
A thud came from behind the two men as they turned into another dimly lit passage and the perceived threat of what had made it was enough to make Kalythyll take hurried steps. Gryliaar jogged behind him as he tried to keep up. The slums suddenly came to life around them. Something rattled forlornly further down the alley while an intermittent whine made Gryliaar look around until he saw a stray dog scratch its sodden and matted fur miserably before it skulked to an unseen corner and scavenged for scraps of food. A silhouette emerged from the far end of the alley and advanced on the cultist, step by inexorable step, until he was almost on top of them. Simultaneously, another shrouded figure jumped up and drew a dagger, a flash of silver catching Kalythyll’s eye.
Realisation dawned quickly on the two men as the cut-throats advanced on them. Gryliaar threw himself to the ground and grovelled at the feet of the would-bemugger. A low cruel laugh roiled forth at the sight of this pathetic display and, for the briefest of moments, a faint sliver of hope crept into the Cult Leader’s mind that bloodshed could be avoided. However, the mugger finished chuckling in cruel delight and bore down on the prostrated form of Gryliaar. The attacker’s companion remained stationed at the end of the alley, merely observing events as they unfolded and to act as a deterrent should their victims decide to flee. Kalythyll kept his wits about him and knew that their assailant had sorely underestimated the man that was seemingly cowered on the ground.
Suddenly Gryliaar sprang like a coiled viper and speared the mugger, driving his shoulder into his abdomen. Both of them slammed into the sodden earth but Gryliaar sprang to his feet like a jackrabbit and struck once more, his boot crashing into the mugger’s jaw whose head twisted and contorted violently. Despite this sudden assault, the cut-throat kept a firm grip on his dagger and he yelled hoarsely as he tried to pick himself up. Gryliaar had other ideas however as he stomped a boot onto the man’s wrist several times and finally his grip on the weapon was abandoned in favour of howling with pain. Kalythyll merely watched his associate take out the thief with ruthless efficiency, nodding in satisfaction and smiling softly to himself. Kalythyll turned on the spot and gazed intently at the frozen figure and raised his hands up, as if to invite the miscreant to join his companion.
“It’s your turn if you would like to have a crack at it,” Kalythyll called to him invitingly. His cool demeanour was enough for the silhouetted shape to suddenly turn tail and run. “That will be a no then,” the Cult Leader intoned with a chuckle.
“What do we do with this one?” Gryliaar asked at his flank.
“Leave him. He’ll live to lie and steal again but with some luck our teachings this evening might dissuade him from a life of crime.”
“Indeed. One can hope.”
Kalythyll stepped over the fallen thief with Gryliaar right behind. As the Cult Leader reached the end of the alley, he heard his compatriot booting the mugger one last time. This was followed by numerous coughs and groans of despair as he was left to wallow in his mire of misery and pain. This small act made Kalythyll grin to himself in hidden pleasure and, momentarily, his troubled mind was eased somewhat. The rest of their trek through Mal Ithir’s slums was uneventful by comparison.
Usually the shadowy members of the Draconis Legium could move about the city unmolested, having agreed with the criminal underworld to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Recent events however had plunged the city into despair and chaos and Trelech’s heavy-handed approach at killing anyone he perceived as a threat had tipped the scales against the Legium. Word had spread throughout the slums that the cultists were now fair game for their nocturnal assaults. Knowledge of this had been relayed to Kalythyll but he had had more pressing concerns on his mind and this was his first taste of attempted street justice. It had left a bad taste in his mouth but, although he would have never admitted it, Kalythyll sympathised with their cause even though he did not dare risk openly supporting them.
As the two men trudged along, the Cult Leader’s mind replayed the events earlier in the day that had led to this. Kalythyll knew well enough that Trelech did not trust him and so he kept his own counsel and close tabs on all incoming communique for the new King. As such, Kalythyll had become acutely aware of Trelech’s plans in Tirgaal as well as his devious machinations towards him. He banished these dark thoughts as he stomped onwards. Once again Gryliaar struggled to keep up and he was gasping heavily as he plodded behind the much older but fitter man.
The two men walked in silence, avoiding the occasional patrol that had dared to venture this far into the slums.
After what felt like an age, the sight of the main gate greeted them and it was with great relief to Gryliaar that his master stopped in the shadow of a dilapidated house. Ahead of them the men and women of Mal Ithir patrolled or stood to attention, always vigilant and always alert. Kalythyll laughed as the thought occurred to him that Trelech would punish any who weren’t. The two cultists simply stared at the soldiers walking the battlements of the curtain wall or those who had the misfortune of standing guard by the gates. Gryliaar imagined that all sorts of ideas and plots were running vividly through his master’s brain, although he could not begin to fathom what they might be. After a long silence, Kalythyll retreated into the shadows and sighed loudly.
“Might I ask a question,” Gryliaar asked uncertainly, interjecting through the many tumultuous thoughts that were swimming through the Cult Leader’s mind.
“If you wish,” he replied.
“What exactly are we doing here? Forgive me for being ignorant but I’m at a loss as to explain our presence here. I am aware that you were on edge back at the Keep but this…” Gryliaar faltered. His words died away and he finished his diatribe with a shrug and a look of pure bewilderment.
“Do you trust me?” Kalythyll asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Gryliaar responded, though there was a faint edge to his voice that made it abundantly clear that he was plagued with doubts.
“I’ll rephrase that. Do you trust me as you did my father?”
“Of course, though he was a hard man to live up to. He had different ideas to you as to what the goals of the order should be but he was a man I could follow, as are you,” the younger man remarked.
“Good. And you are right about one thing, my father was a great man but he tried to take a more active role in the world. He should have been like his predecessors and made the order act from the shadows, silently manipulating events to our own ends. But alas, because of his hubris and my folly I must go even further than my father. I now plot against a King.”
“You’ve been plotting against Trelech?” Gryliaar remarked, his tone flabbergasted. “That’s certainly a bold move.”
“And the only one I could take. Trelech is vicious, paranoid and violent. If any other man had been chosen to be the red gem’s champion they might have been guided by our wisdom. He however will use it for his own ends, to further his ambition and will to devour. He will bring about the destruction of this world and don’t forget, he murdered my father. He never earned my loyalty or trust which is why I’ve been working with Barlech. I plan to bring down that monster and to reinstate the rightful heir to the throne.”
“That’s a lot to take in,” Gryliaar admitted.
“Which is why I didn’t tell you before we departed the Keep.”
“So, what is the plan?”
“So far, I’ve been providing information to Barlech about events in Mal Ithir as well as details about our new King. I also helped him escape and he has fled South to a region called Dierzel, far beyond Trelech’s reach. The idea was to help him to create a resistance to the tyrant and to silently aid their efforts until victory could be assured. That was until earlier today when I learned Trelech was planning to kill me, so it expedited my need to leave the city.”
“I see. So, presumably we are going to Dierzel?”
“Precisely. We just have one more hurdle to overcome before we are free and clear,” said Kalythyll, pointing towards the gate as he did so.
“How do you plan on getting through them?”
“I have something in mind,” Kalythyll replied with a smug grin. He raised an arm and suddenly a flame appeared in his palm. It crackled heartily and the Cult Leader’s smile widened as he saw Gryliaar’s expression. “Just stay close to me and you’ll be fine. Trelech is not the only one who can play with fire.”
***
Ydari glowered at his foe as the guards advanced on them with their swords drawn. Ferilan, the Prince, remained sitting on the bed but he mopped his frightened tears with his sleeve as he looked about from face to face, unsure who to trust or what was going on. Arlydd’s visage was one of smug satisfaction as Ydari, Kael and Raelynne held their hands up in the air. One of the guards trooped forwards and seized the young Prince by the hand and wrenched him from the bed and in a matter of seconds he was whisked from the room. The man at the front of the group barked a command for Ydari and his cohorts to follow but they remained immovable.
“You never intended to kill the boy,” Ydari observed astutely.
“Quite the opposite,” Arlydd responded. “It is of paramount importance to the Regent that Ferilan is safeguarded from all who would seek to do him harm. Prince Ferilan gives the Regent legitimacy and he is the rightful heir. Besides, King Aynhar’s death was an outrage and the nation will not tolerate another.”
“If that is true why does Ferilan need to be guarded by an Ambassador?”
“I spoke to the Regent about my suspicions of you. That you would try to kill the Prince and he trusted that I was telling the truth so he commanded that I safeguard the Prince personally. And here you are, assassins in the night.”
“We are not assassins!” Ydari exclaimed furiously.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have a hard time proving that, what with recent events and all.”
“What in Efealtor are you talking about?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with murderer,” one of the guards bellowed as he moved behind Ydari and gave him a shove. “I hereby arrest you for the attempted assassination of Prince Ferilan and the murder of King Aynhar. Get moving.”
“We had nothing to do with that,” Kael blurted out.
“Silence,” the guard boomed as he cuffed Kael in the head aggressively. “Shut up and follow us.”
The guard prodded his prisoners in the back with his sword and they grudgingly followed his unspoken command, the Cultist Mage waving at them mockingly as they were hauled away. Kael followed the guards as they trooped their way back to the staircase with Raelynne behind him. Ydari meanwhile deliberately stood back before falling in behind the mage. Ydari’s mind raced as thought after thought about how they could escape passed by but he found no tangible solution to their current predicament.
Soon the guards had led them outside and back to the road. Word had clearly been sent ahead since a dozen more city guards had been assembled and they all adopted grim masks of outrage and disgust as they looked upon the faces of Raelynne, Kael and Ydari. Manacles were produced and they worked efficiently, snapping them into place around the wrists of their prisoners before they roughly dragged Kael forwards. The mage and the Captain had no choice but to follow. Shortly, the ceaseless noise of mailed footsteps accompanied their journey back through the streets of Tirgaal City. Despite it being well into the evening there were still enough people out and about to gaze at the display and gawp at their passing with stupefied expressions. Ydari ignored the whispers and murmurings of the people that watched them as they passed, choosing this moment to lean and whisper into Raelynne’s ear.
“Do you have any ideas?” Ydari asked simply.
“A few but that depends on how much you enjoy the smell of deep-fried guard,” Raelynne whispered dryly.
“I can almost guarantee, a week with the odour of a damp prison cell lingering in my nose will make me question which I prefer,” Ydari retorted sarcastically. “I was hoping for something a bit more helpful though.”
“There is one thing I could do but be prepared to run. It might be best if we separate and meet somewhere.”
“Do it. We’ll rendezvous at the Ythelian Embassy. Can you tell Kael of the plan?”
Raelynne nodded at Ydari’s enquiry and he watched as she leaned forward and relayed what they had just agreed to in Kael’s ear quickly. There was a brief pause and then the vagabond too nodded. While this happened, they rounded a corner onto the long avenue that Y
dari had become all too familiar with in his short stay in the city. They clomped along with their prisoner escort and the bulky structure of the Palace loomed ominously before them in the distance. Ydari knew full well that the cosy confines of the Palace dungeons would be their ultimate destination and that if they were going to affect some kind of escape, they would have to do it soon.
Kael fidgeted in his manacles when Raelynne suddenly bellowed a warning cry. Abruptly a thick plume of smoke erupted around her and smothered everyone in an enveloping fog. Ydari could hear their escort coughing and hacking their lungs up when the mage appeared in front of him and hastily whispered an incomprehensible incantation. The metal nestled against his wrists fell away as a brilliant spark of light cut its way through the restraints effortlessly.
Kael waded through the mist with his hands nestled firmly over his face and the three of them darted through. A guard shambled into their path and crashed to the ground as Kael barrelled into him. Thin tendrils of smoke lapped at their heels as they passed into the strangely still world beyond. Ydari cried out as another guard stumbled blindly, swinging his arms in front of him in a futile effort to dispel the fog. Kael swiftly turned on his heel and shoved the man bodily to the floor. Seconds later the fugitives sprinted down a side alley and were lost from view.
The cries of the guards soon became muffled and distant as Ydari tore through the streets. His heart hammered in his chest and an adrenalin surge carried him far from where the guards had been left shambling about blindly. Every so often a citizen would dart out of the way of his sprinting form or a beggar would watch with disinterest as he rushed by. After several minutes of running, the voices of his pursuers had fallen silent. Ydari’s aching muscles screamed for him to halt from the pain and he puffed exhaustedly. As the Captain looked at his surroundings, he soon realised that he was now thoroughly lost. Another ragged beggar was huddled in a swathe of blankets and he avoided Ydari’s gaze as this strange man staggered over to him.
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