The Rawn Chronicles Book Three: The Ancarryn and the Quest (The Rawn Chronicles Series 3)

by P D Ceanneir

  Chapter 9

  Shanks

  The thunderhead clouds above the Vallkyte capital finally carried out its threat and unleashed a torrential downpour upon the empty streets. Great grey sheets of raindrops shifted through the citadel as the east wind howled around the tall townhouses of the Hub. The sheer force of the rain beat against the rooftops and leapt six inches off the ground. It rose to a depth of an inch within minutes. The vast network of guttering that stretched around the citadel proved inadequate for the task of draining the water into the sewer system below the city. Deep puddles and floods appeared everywhere along the cobbled roads to fill their cambers and guttering.

  It was the simultaneous bright flash and clang of thunder that woke Molna from her faint. She looked around her and recognised the Snug Room, a separate anti-chamber that adjoined her bedroom. She was lying on a soft cushioned chair near the window. Another set of curved chairs sat in front of the marble fireplace and there, sitting on the low table in front of the fire, was her son. Flame burned brightly in his hand as he lit the wood in the fireplace and she realised that Havoc was now a Rawn Master. She had hoped to see him at the Canndali, but once again, fate had laughed in her face.

  The logs caught fire quickly from the use of the fourth element, lighting up Havoc as he adjusted the kindling with an iron poker. He was taller than she remembered; of course, it had been over ten years since she last saw him, but the child of his youth still shone through his handsome face. His clothes looked old and well worn, certainly not the garb of a noble lord.

  ‘You look like your father when I first met him,’ she said.

  Havoc turned to her and smiled. ‘Sorry if I startled you, mother, but this was the only way I could come and see you and get in undetected.’

  Tears welled in her eyes; she sobbed slightly and got up from her seat. Havoc got up also and walked towards her.

  ‘Ohh... son, I have missed you so much.’ they hugged and Havoc stroked her long dark hair as she cried on his shoulder.

  ‘I have missed you too.’

  ‘Why have you come? Do you not understand that the Ancarryn has been organised to trap you?’ She looked up at him and Havoc could see the lines of age around her eyes and mouth. There were strands of grey in her hair also, but she was still a beautiful woman.

  ‘So people keep telling me. However, I have come for you,’ he said.

  ‘Me, but it will be impossible! How could you hope to escape?’

  ‘That’s all arranged, I...’ before he could finish, his mother’s hands covered her mouth as she gasped.

  ‘I saw him...It’s you, you’re the Blacksword!’ she said pointing at him and stepping back a pace as she remembered her sons face changing before she fainted.

  Havoc sighed. He had dreaded his mother’s reaction to the truth. The look of fear in her eyes made his heart flip, and he held up his hands and talked to her in a calm voice.

  ‘It’s all right mother, it is a long story,’ he said.

  ‘This just throws up a whole new set of questions,’ she babbled as she paced back and forward in front of the fire.

  ‘What questions?’ Havoc was a little perplexed as he frowned at his mother, whose hands were staring to fidget, locking and unlocking them as she talked. He had never seen her so anxious before.

  ‘Did he know all of this time?’ she said to herself, ‘What is...ah!’ she turned to look at her son with wide frightening eyes. ‘You are a Pyromancer!’ she almost yelped. The effect of a flash of lightning on her wide eyes as she said this did not help the situation, ‘oh, no Havoc, no, not you.’

  Havoc was a little shocked.

  ‘How did you know? Who told you? Was it Cinnibar, had she made the connection?’

  ‘No, not Cinnibar,’ said Molna pausing in thought as she stared off into the distance, ‘you have a right to know, though.’ Then she slammed her fist into her open palm.

  ‘No wonder Lord Ness was evasive with me!’ she said, ‘why did he not tell me you were here?’

  ‘Lord Ness, you have seen him then? Kasan has half the citadel looking for him and Aunt Vara.’

  ‘They won’t find them. I have them well hid,’ she looked at her son and suddenly clutched his hand. ‘You will come with me and see them. Kasan will return shortly. Therefore, we have to leave. There is someone you and Lord Ness have to meet, anyway.’

  Even if they could see outside into the darkness, it would be impossible through the downpour. Rivulets of water trickled down the corridor windows making it difficult to see outside anyway. With his hand firmly grasping his mother’s, they left the snug and passed by several other doors until they found a set of stairs. At this point Havoc stopped and pulled his mother around.

  ‘What is it?’ she said with concern in her eyes. Her son was looking at one of the oak doors in the corridor, on the other side of which was her other son.

  ‘The boy in there is he...’

  ‘Yes, Havoc, he...he is your brother. His name is Creed and he is more like your uncle than he is like me. I had another son, but he was stillborn...Cinnibar took him away...somewhere. Creed is...different...Kasan and Cinnibar have brainwashed him. He bears no love towards me.’

  Havoc bowed his head. Sadness spread over his face.

  ‘If there was any way that I could have saved you sooner, I would...’

  ‘I know,’ she placed the palm of her hand on his stubbly chin. Her eyes shone with forgiveness and moist with sadness, ‘I know son.’

  She urged him down the stairs. They spiralled downwards for a couple of levels then Molna ran her hands over the walls while Havoc held the candle.

  ‘Ahh!... there it is,’ Havoc saw her push hard against the wall with her shoulder and he saw two bricks give way under her weight. Then she reached up and grabbed an iron torch basket bolted to the wall, but as she pulled it downward and it tilted away from the wall showing an angled bracket where the bolts should be. There was a click and sound of a balance weight moving then the whole wall opened about four feet.

  ‘That’s handy,’ said Havoc.

  ‘Well, in my time in Dulan-Tiss I’ve come to know the secrets of the citadel quite well, including this castle. It’s saturated with hidden passageways, I don’t think even Kasan knows them all.’

  The passage was narrow and dank. It led to ground level where it opened up onto the courtyard near the stables. A fine black marble statue of King Criab the Third stood opposite them on a grassed verge. Instrumental at creating the Rite of Ancarryn, Criab stood tall and robust in what appeared to be a long robe that looked about to slip off his wide shoulders. As Havoc and his mother crossed the yard he could see other statues equally spaced along the yard perimeter. High backed stone benches or plinths with ornate urns separated the statues.

  ‘This is the Monarch’s Garden,’ said Molna by way of an explanation, ‘each statue represents a king of the Vallkytes from as far back as the days before the Dragor-rix War.’

  She took him to a small well at the end of the courtyard and then pulled out a mortis key. Beyond the well was a weather-beaten door flanked on either side by grey pillars. They quickly got under the doors porch out of the rain. His mother unlocked the door and went inside.

  ‘This is one of the many routes into the dungeons,’ said Molna.

  ‘You hid Lord Ness and Aunt Vara in the dungeons!’

  ‘Best place to hide in the citadel. Who would think of looking for someone in a place you can’t escape from?’

  ‘That’s a clever idea,’ he was looking at his mother in awe.

  ‘Thank you. You may have your father’s looks, but you have your mother’s brains.’

  Molna took a torch from an iron wall bracket and Havoc waved his hand towards it. The torch erupted with bright yellow flame. They walked together for some time following the twisting corridors and descending the stone flagged stairs until they came to a cell. It was an old oak door with a window of bars in it and it was the only one lit by flames in the wall sconce
s.

  Molna knocked four times then paused and knocked four more. A small door in the window opened to reveal a male face for a second and then the shutter closed just as quickly as it opened. Bolts on the other side of the door drew back and the tall man with short curly hair and a neatly trimmed beard looked out. He gave a smile to Molna, a surprised but pleasant look towards the prince, and then ushered them inside.

  ‘This is Sir Ketrigan, my contact with the outside world,’ said Molna introducing the prince to the man before him.

  ‘Your contact?’ Havoc frowned as he shook the other man’s hand.

  ‘You did not think that your father had forgotten about me, did you?’ smiled his mother. ‘Sir Ketrigan is one of your father’s best spies since before the first civil war. Lord Ketrigan of Landrum this is my son, Prince Havoc.’

  Ketrigan looked with shock at Havoc, his jaw dropped, and then he bowed towards the prince.

  ‘My Lord De Proteous, it is an honour to finally meet you,’ the tall man’s eyes looked Havoc up and down, still amazed at the sight of him. Although he looked young, there was a kind of agelessness about him that all Rawn Masters shared, ‘your exploits precede you.’

  ‘Thank you, sir knight, you are most kind. However, I think it is you who should be made famous for the devotion you have shown my mother in the enemy’s citadel,’ said Havoc with a tone of genuine affection for the knight.

  Ketrigan laughed, ‘Ha!... you have a charm about you, just like your father.’

  ‘Is the ship ready, Ketrigan?’ asked Molna.

  ‘Just about, it is loading a shipment of a dozen barrels of Keveni Rice Brandy tomorrow. Ness Ri and the Lady Vara will be taken onboard inside two of the empty barrels. Apart from myself, there is room for one more, Your Grace.’

  Havoc smiled at the correct termination the knight gave to the Queen of the Roguns.

  Molna shook her head.

  ‘I know you have tried to persuade me to leave on countless occasions, Ketrigan, but leaving now would be foolhardy. Kasan’s wrath would be intolerable...and the Ancarryn...well.’

  ‘I have made plans to get you out of the citadel anyway, so do not worry,’ said Havoc with a hand on her shoulder, ‘but what is this about a ship?’

  ‘Lord Ness and your father have formulated a plan to help Vara escape should things go wrong,’ said his mother, ‘Lord Ketrigan has had dealings with a Sonoran captain called Danyil, one of Admiral Uriah’s men, the same one who helped Vara escape from Sonora all those years ago.’

  ‘If I had known that you were here as well, my lord...’ said Ketrigan, ‘you realise that the Ancarryn was all organised to trap you? Yet you are here?’

  ‘Quite so. I’m well aware of the trap,’ said the prince then changed the subject, ‘where are Lord Ness and Lady Vara now?’

  ‘In the old jailer’s quarters closest to the docks,’ said the spy and he took them down a corridor at the end of which was a door of iron bars through which was a dormitory room.

  ‘This area of the jail is disused now,’ said Molna, ‘prisoners would be brought here by ship, so it is a perfect place to escape from.’

  At the end of the long room was a smaller antechamber with luxury fittings, a writing desk, gas lamps and a double bed. Another bedroom sat next door to it. Lord Ness had felt their approach and was standing next to a table with four chairs waiting to receive them; Vara was holding playing cards in her hand, they had been playing Karsh.

  ‘Beat him again, Molna,’ said Vara as she saw Molna walking behind Ketrigan, ‘that’s three times in a row...’ she stopped because she saw Havoc enter the room behind his mother.

  ‘By the gods you found each other,’ she said breathlessly, ‘after all of this time, thank the My’thos.’ She rushed to give Havoc and Molna both a hug. Lord Ness welcomed the prince with a big smile.

  ‘This is a joyous day, the Nithi lords are dead, and mother and son are reunited,’ said Vara with some emotion.

  ‘The ship is ready, Vara, Ketrigan will take you,’ said Molna and looked at the spy who nodded, acknowledging her orders.

  ‘What about Ness Ri and you...?’ said Lady Vara.

  ‘Ness Ri will join you shortly, there is someone he and Havoc must meet, now go.’

  Ketrigan helped Vara collect her belongings, and then they left through a small door that led to the docks.

  ‘I am intrigued, your grace,’ said Lord Ness as he picked up his sword-staff, ‘who would wish to see us at this hour?’

  ‘Someone very dear to me,’ she said, ‘but it will not be easy for you to meet him and I want you not to judge him harshly, promise me?’

  Havoc and Lord Ness exchanged looks then they both nodded at the queen.

  ‘So who is this mysterious person? Havoc asked.

  ‘Well for one thing, he tells me he is the Blacksword’s father.’

  They passed rows and rows of locked cells until Molna stopped at number forty-two. Ever proficient with keys, the queen took another one from her dress pocket and unlocked the door. Inside, the cell was not large but not too cramped either. A single bed took up one wall and in a small opening in the opposite wall sat a porcelain washbasin and a hole in a wooden seat for the toilet. In the far corner was a writing desk bathed in a multitude of candlelight, each wick was at varying degrees of length. Sketches covered the brick walls shifting in the flickering candlelight as the opening cell door gave off a soft breeze. This had the effect of making the pictures shift as if alive.

  ‘Shanks,’ whispered Molna as she stepped into the room. Havoc could see a hunched figure in tattered grey robes sitting on a bench at the desk. He was sketching vigorously with a stump of charcoal and his previous attempts littered the floor. The figure did not move when they entered and Molna feared that he was in one of his fugue states again, but then he turned slowly to face them. His face silhouetted by the candle light behind him.

  ‘I thought I recognised the footfalls of my old master,’ said Shanks.

  Havoc heard Lord Ness inhale sharply. The Ri picked up a candle and used it to reveal Shank’s face. The man before them looked old. Long straggly grey hair framed his thin face, Havoc could see that he must have been handsome in his youth, but how could he be old if Lord Ness trained him in the Rawn Arts?

  ‘No, this is impossible!’ said the Ri slumping down on the bed beside Molna. His face a pale mask of shock, ‘you’re...you’re dead.’

  Molna held the Ri’s hand as if to comfort him while she stared at Shanks with, what could only be described to Havoc as, a look of awe.

  Havoc felt uncomfortable standing in the open doorway. The man at the desk was not familiar to him, but the prisoner’s light brown eyes had not left him since he entered the cell. There was a form of recognition from the Blacksword though, who shifted in the prince’s mind. No, not shifted, he literally sat up and looked through Havoc’s eyes.

  ‘Are you not going to introduce me?’ he said to Lord Ness who obviously knew him. The Ri said nothing, only gaping in silence. Seeing his old master like this made him uneasy.

  ‘Hello, Prince Havoc,’ said Shanks.

  ‘You know me?’

  ‘Yes, I knew you would come. It was inevitable after all of this time. Now let me see my son, please.’

  Havoc frowned, ‘your son? You mean the Blacksword, don’t you?’ In his mind, the Blacksword was shifting restlessly and trying to claim dominance over the prince. Havoc used a considerable force of will to resist him.

  ‘No this can’t be right,’ interrupted Lord Ness, ‘how did you survive, why are you here?’

  ‘Who is he?’ said Havoc, now very curious.

  ‘Havoc this was once the most dangerous man in the world,’ said Lord Ness, ‘people died for, and against, his cause. This is Baron Telmar.’

  The night wore on and the downpour showed no sign of easing. Guttering on the townhouses began to overflow with the sheer volume of water running off the roofs. Water from the surrounding gardens water butts spilled ov
er their edges and added their contents to the already waterlogged paths. Although the street road cambers took the rainwater to the side guttering, nevertheless, debris of all kinds were running fast along these miniature rivers to block the storm drains. It was to be a storm to be remembered, but the citizens of the City would only remember that the Blacksword was abroad this night as they locked themselves inside the safety of their homes.

  In all of this moist chaos walked Tia and Serena, busy in their relentless search of the elusive Blacksword. They had separated for about an hour so each could search their allocated sectors of the citadel with no result. They were about to split up again when Serena stopped and pulled back her hood, she looked up and allowed the rain to drench her face. Both were relatively dry, the warm air that a Rawn Master generated around them helped to keep their clothes from becoming too wet.

  ‘We are fools,’ said Serena as she looked up. Rain trickled down her pale cheeks.

  ‘How is that so?’ Tia asked.

  ‘He is using the rooftops to move around the citadel, undetected.’

  Ti looked up also. ‘Yes!’ she gasped, ‘of course.’

  They both jumped to the nearest roof.

  Chapter 10

  Confessions of a Pyromancer

  The Blacksword was like a curious child demandingly pushing through the taller protective parents to try to get a better look at something dangerous in front of them. Havoc felt his willpower franticly pushed to one side and his essence, his mind, his soul, sank away into calm blackness.

  Everyone in that tiny cell felt the Blacksword emerge from the prince. Lord Ness suddenly realised that this was an auspicious moment, two Pyromancers in the same room, and then the reality of that thought hit him because this was also a terrifying situation for all.

  Pyromancy was a rare and unstudied affliction; anyone who had the misfortune to become one usually became mad quite quickly and died through his excessive insanity. Havoc’s Pyromancy was a different matter; he had learnt to control it. Telmar on the other hand, Ness Ri knew, was once a great warrior and scholar. A Rawn Master with much potential and a bright future before his madness set in. Certainly, incarceration in this dingy cell was not what Lord Ness had in mind for his once promising apprentice.