Ferran shook his head.
“No. It’s too dangerous to venture far from the rune stone whilst the darkness lasts. Hopefully a Fell Beast will do them in, whoever they were.”
Luxon sat heavily onto the ground, weariness threatening to overwhelm him. Whatever the amulets had been enchanted with, they had a power the likes of which he had never felt before.
“Slavers most likely,” Kaiden growled. “I’ve heard rumours that someone has put a high price on live mages. The real mystery is how they got their hands on those amulets.”
“Those amulets made it feel like my powers were being drained from me. It felt like the N’gist amulets used by the Baron of Retbit when he attacked Caldaria, but these effects were far more potent.”
Hannah rushed over to him and placed a hand to his forehead. She reached into a small pouch attached to her belt and pulled out some herbs.
“Here, chew these,” she said her voice full of worry. “They should restore some of your energy.”
“We need to get moving, Ferran,” Kaiden said. “Fell Beasts or no, they could come back and in greater numbers. We’re not far from Sunguard; another few hours and we will reach the capital. Perhaps Davik can shed some light on things.”
A few moments passed before the Nightblade nodded in agreement.
“You’re right. Pack your gear and saddle up. If we are to reach the capital in one piece we are going to have to ride hard and fast.”
* * *
The first of the sun’s light was met with welcome relief as it began to appear in the eastern sky. They had ridden throughout the remainder of the night. Luckily, they had not encountered the strange attackers again, but they had heard various creatures moving through the undergrowth. With the sunrise, the threat of an attack by Fell Beasts was reduced, but they would not be truly safe until they reached the sigil stone of Sunguard.
Ferran called for the group to slow down in order to give the horses a break. The loyal beasts had run for hours without complaint, but now they panted heavily. The companions reached a small clearing which contained a well.
Over the centuries the King’s Legion had built dozens of the watering holes along the kingdom’s main roadways to keep the soldiers and mounts watered. Kaiden dismounted. With a grunt, he lifted the heavy grate which covered the well and began to lower a bucket into its depths. Yepert, too, dismounted and helped out with the time-consuming task.
Luxon sat back in his saddle, his eyes heavy from exhaustion. The sound of the early morning birdsong began as the creatures of the Great Wood stirred from their slumber. The spot was peaceful and he couldn’t help but smile. His face dropped however when he heard Kaiden swear loudly. He opened his eyes to see the former knight gagging as he tipped the contents of the bucket onto the ground. Instead of sweet clear water, a vicious black fluid oozed from it.
“What in Niveren?”
Ferran dismounted and walked over to the well. He dipped his head into it and sniffed.
“Goblin tar,” he muttered. “A lair must be close. They’re probably under our feet right now.”
“Goblins this close to the capital?” Sophia said in surprise.
“Surely the Legion should keep these wells and roads clear,” Hannah said.
Ferran gestured for Kaiden and Yepert to get back onto their horses.
“It’s just another sign that the kingdom is falling apart,” Ferran sighed. “A Nightblade would normally take care of such things, but Thanos has ordered them to stay in Caldaria because of the attacks. C’mon, let’s keep moving.”
* * *
The day had turned grey and cold as they reached the bluff which overlooked the plains of Sunguard. In the distance, the towers of the capital stood strong, and distant banners could be seen fluttering in the breeze. As they got closer to the city, the road widened became increasingly busy as merchants and soldiers moved to and fro from the capital. A line of small stone legion forts ran alongside it, and several taverns and inns were filled with patrons despite the early hour. The group dismounted at one of the taverns, and Ferran, Luxon and Sophia continued to the city on foot. The others paid a stable boy to feed and water the horses before going inside to the warmth of a fire and a hot meal.
Luxon, Ferran and Sophia walked through the city’s main gate without issue. Each pulled their hoods closer around their faces just in case anyone was watching out for their arrival.
They quickly made their way through the wide streets to the base of the hill on which the King’s Spire stood. The legionary guarding the heavy iron gates gave them a dubious look as Luxon identified himself. He noticed that the soldier’s hand drifted subconsciously to the hilt of his sword. After a few moments, the gates opened and the trio was escorted up the hill and into the Spire. As they walked upward, the city below sprawled out in all directions. Easily visible was the Great Church of Niveren and the plaza where the king had been crowned. Unlike that day, the huge open space was packed with people.
After passing through several guarded gates, they arrived at the King’s Spire. The palace was built into the side of the tall pillar of stone which stood tall over the city below. No one knew how the great pillar had been formed, but legend said that it had been placed in its current spot by a god. The first men had settled at its base, and over the millennia many different cities had been built, each bearing the name of the first: Sunguard. It had been the capital of Niveren’s people, the Nivonian Empire and the Golden Empire. Now, it was the beating heart of Delfinnia.
A steward ushered them inside and led them through the maze of marble-walled corridors. Many of the walls were covered in paintings depicting key scenes from the realm’s history. Ornate tapestries covered other walls, and works of art were strategically placed to emphasise the wealth and power of the realm.
Eventually, the steward gestured for them to wait in a small side room. Compared to the rest of the palace, the room was bland. A table decorated with gold leaf and two rather uncomfortable looking couches were the only furniture.
Luxon sat on one of the chairs and closed his eyes. If things were going to go the same way as his last visit to the palace then there was a good chance they would have to wait a long-time before being seen.
The sound of the heavy oak door opening made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. The steward poked his head around the door and waved them to follow him. They were led once again through the warren of corridors. The deeper they got into the palace, the more opulent the decoration. Gold leaf covered most of the walls, and the white marble floor was polished to a bright shine. Portraits of old kings and barons lined many of the walls, and ornate swords hung from golden pegs. Luxon tried to get his bearings but quickly gave up; the palace was like a maze. His curiosity grew the longer they walked. He had never been in this part of the palace before. Finally, the steward stopped outside a large wooden door. He took a large iron key from his belt and put it into the keyhole. With a loud click, the door unlocked and, with a grunt, the steward pushed it open. He waved them inside before bowing and retreating back down the corridor.
They were in a large chamber lit by a dozen wall-mounted lanterns. The walls were painted white, and tapestries depicting the royal family’s coat of arms dominated them. On the floor, the king’s coat of arms was inlaid in serpentine, and on the ceiling was a painting of what looked like Zahnia the Great’s victory over Danon. The wizard was depicted as muscular, despite his age, and his long grey beard and hair flowed behind him. In his right hand, the wizard held a golden sword infused with light and in his left he wielded his staff, Erdasol. Danon was depicted as a black shadow retreating from the light. Luxon marvelled at the painting; the detail was exquisite, suggesting that it had been created by one of the realm’s master painters.
“Danon’s Second Fall,” a quiet voice spoke from the far end of the chamber. “A marvellous painting is it not? Painted by Rusious, the master painter of Balnor.”
Luxon, Ferran and Sophia knelt as they recognised t
he small boy walking towards them. King Alderlade was now eight years of age, but from the stern look on his young features he appeared older. His black curly hair reached his shoulders and his blue eyes shone with intelligence. The boy king wore an outfit of purple velvet, with a small red cape over his shoulders. A gold chain hung around his neck, and at its centre was a glistening jewel: the King’s Jewel.
“Sire,” Luxon greeted.
“I thought we were here to meet Davik?” Ferran muttered under his breath.
Alderlade gestured impatiently for them to stand.
“How can we serve you, Your Majesty?” Ferran asked respectfully.
The boy king paced the room, his small hands clasped tightly behind his back.
“Somebody stole it! Somebody stole my stone!” the king whined, his voice quivering with emotion.
Ferran and Sophia glanced at each other in confusion.
“Forgive me, Sire but what are you talking about?” the Nightblade asked.
The king stopped his pacing and glared at Ferran. The boy’s face was flushed red and tears threatened to flow from his eyes.
Luxon placed a hand on Ferran’s shoulder and leaned in close.
“Could you two wait outside? I know what the king is talking about. I think he will be calmer just speaking with me.”
Ferran hesitated for a moment before taking Sophia’s hand in his. They both bowed before slipping out of the room.
“You are talking about the sigil stone, aren’t you?” Luxon asked his king softly. “The one that you held in Eclin, the magic stone.” He knelt before the small boy and looked him straight in the eye.
Alderlade nodded, wiping his eyes clear. “My uncle says that no one should ever see me cry … that as king, I have to be strong,” the boy said, puffing out his small chest.
Luxon smiled. “I have met your uncle Ricard. I wouldn’t listen to him too closely if I were you, Sire. Now, tell me what has happened to the stone.”
Alderlade explained that a man had broken into the king’s vault and stole the sigil stone. The thief had been highly skilled as no guard noticed his presence.
“The scoundrel was a Fleetfoot! I got Davik to send men to look for the stone, and they found a man’s body hidden in a ditch not far from the city limits. He had been murdered!”
Luxon looked away. This news was troubling indeed. As well as all the other issues he faced, the theft of the sigil stone might prove to be the most important. A dark thought entered his mind. Why would someone kill just for a magical stone? Was Danon behind the theft? That was a sobering thought. When he had touched the stone in Eclin, visions had flashed into mind, visions that still haunted him. The stone was more important than he first thought.
“Sire, were there any clues as to who killed the thief?”
The king looked at his hands his brow furrowed in thought.
“Perhaps. My men arrested all the known Fleetfoots in Sunguard. Maybe they know something?”
Luxon smiled and squeezed the boy’s shoulder.
“With your permission, Sire, I would like to see those prisoners. Keep this between us, though, as I think we should keep the importance of the stone under wraps for now. It will be our little secret.”
The king nodded in agreement.
“Forgive me, Sire, but where is Davik?” Luxon asked. “We assumed that we would be meeting with him, also.”
The King frowned.
“Davik is in the east overseeing the redeployment of troops … I think.”
The boy pouted. “No one tells me anything.”
* * *
Luxon left the room and waved for Ferran and Sophia to follow him. The steward that had led them to the king’s chamber was patiently waiting further down the corridor.
“You,” Luxon said. “Take us to the jail, please.”
Ferran, Sophia and the steward all looked surprised at the request.
“What the hell is going on?” Ferran mumbled.
“I’ll explain later, but we had better send word to the others that we will be delayed.”
The steward guided them back through the maze of corridors until they reached the top of a spiral staircase which was guarded by two grim-faced legionaries. As they approached, the soldiers barred the stairs with their spears.
“No entry. Baron Ricard’s orders,” the taller of the two guards said.
Luxon sighed in annoyance. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small piece of paper.
“We have the king’s permission. Last time I checked, the word of King Alderlade superseded that of his uncle, or am I mistaken?”
The guard read the note. He coughed nervously, his face flushing red in annoyance.
“Well … that does look like the king’s seal. Fine, you can go on down, but we will be watching you closely, wizard,” The guards parted their spears and waved Luxon and the others through. Sophia glared at the men as she passed them.
“Disrespectful sods,” she muttered under her breath.
Ferran led the way down the spiralling stone staircase, the others close behind. The way was lit with flaming braziers lining the stone walls. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in a narrow corridor. The air was heavy with damp and the place stank of sweat.
One of the guards pushed himself past Ferran.
“C’mon then, I haven’t got all bloody day. The scum you want is in the cell at the end. Don’t take too long,” the guard grumbled, before turning on his heel and ascending back up the staircase.
Ferran took one of the torches from the wall and led the way deeper into the dungeon. They passed half a dozen cells which contained a large number of miserable looking men and woman. As they passed, some of the prisoners reached out through the iron bars to feebly plead for their release. As they reached the cell mentioned by the guard, Ferran chuckled.
“I should have known.”
Sat on a wooden stall and picking dirt from under his fingernails was a heavyset bald man. A scar ran from the top of his skull to his chin, but his eyes suggested a keen intelligence. Upon seeing Ferran, the man stood up and smiled.
“Thrift, you old dog,” Ferran greeted warmly. “I really should have guessed that you would be caught up in this.” He reached a gloved hand through the bars, which Thrift shook.
“I can’t believe it, Ferran of Blackmoor, Sophia Cunning and the wizard. You’ve gotten tall, lad. How long’s it been?”
“Five years, Thrift. It’s good to see you,” Sophia answered. The thief reached through the bars and took her hand, before kissing it smoothly.
“What brings such distinguished guests to my humble jail cell?” Thrift asked with a wink.
The last time Luxon had met the thief was during the battle of Eclin, when Thrift had led a force of Fleetfoots in the fighting. The thieves guilds were renowned for their skills with bow and blade, and their support had been vital in liberating the city. After the fighting had ended, Thrift and the other Fleetfoots had been pardoned for all past crimes, but true to their nature many of them were soon back on the rob or back in jail.
“What do you know about the break in at the Hall of Treasures?” Luxon asked, leaning closer to the bars.
The colour from Thrift’s face paled and his roguish smile slipped, to be replaced by a look of fear. The thief stepped back from the bars and shook his head.
“Nope. I am not getting involved in that nonsense, not again. I’ve had it up to here with magic and monsters! Leave me out of it, wizard.”
Luxon arched an eyebrow at the reaction.
“So you do know something about it. Tell us what you know, and I promise to get you released and leave you alone.”
Thrift looked at him a pleading look in his eyes. Conflict played behind them before he relented with a deep sigh.
“I’ve heard rumours …” he began warily. “Apparently, a master thief called Untir was hired to break into the Hall of Treasures. The Fleetfoot chapter house in Sunguard refused to back him up, b
ut apparently the gold on offer was so great that Untir got greedy and went in solo.”
“Do you know who the contractor was?”
“Again, this is just rumour, but my contact in Sunguard told me that the contract was signed by the Merchant King of Stormglade. The guild refused the contract because it doesn’t like to get involved in politics, but as I said – the promise of a lot of gold sometimes supersedes the rules.”
Luxon looked at Ferran and Sophia; all roads were leading to the city of Stormglade.
12.
After they left the palace Luxon and the others reunited with Yepert, Kaiden and Hannah at the Weary Traveller Inn. After a quick bite to eat, they saddled their horses and got back on the road.
“It cannot be a coincidence that everything is pointing to Stormglade,” Yepert moaned to his friend. “The Sarpi, your mother and the theft of the sigil stone … why do I get the feeling we are heading towards some terrible danger?”
Despite his worry, Luxon couldn’t help but smile. He glanced to his right; Hannah was riding at his side, her beautiful face deep in concentration. In her hand she held a wilted rainbell flower. Her mouth moved as she quietly uttered an incantation. A white light began to shine from between her fingers when she closed her hand into a fist. A few seconds passed and she opened her palm. To Luxon’s surprise, the wilted flower now looked healthy and vibrant. Hannah whooped in happiness.
“Finally! I’ve been working on that spell for weeks,” she laughed.
“See, Yepert, we’ll be fine. We have a great healer at our side,” Luxon said with a wink.
The group followed the King’s Road south until they reached the Sundial Inn. Ferran decided that as the sun was still high in the sky, they should press ahead to the sigil stone located on the border of the barony of Balnor.
As the days passed, they travelled through a number of small farming settlements, and on their left hand side was the shimmering waters of the Lakelands. Smoke rose lazily on the autumn air from the hundreds of houses in the town of Midlake which lay at the heart of the Lakelands. A small fleet of fishing boats drifted on the lake’s surface, and children splashed and played on the banks.
War for the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga Book 2) Page 9
