Lost City

by Jeffrey M. Poole

The first thing Venk noticed was that the owner of the voice was wearing a set of Narian armor that was encrusted with glittering diamonds and sapphires. It had to be the most exquisite suit of armor he had ever seen. To Venk, it looked as though the armor was meant to be displayed rather than worn. Also immediately apparent was that the five angry dwarves facing them hadn’t known how to properly assemble the complex suit of armor.

  The cuirasses weren’t sitting snug against their chests, the greaves hung loosely against their legs, and even the gauntlets threatened to slide off their arms as they could see several of the metal gloves constantly clanking about as if they were several sizes too large. If Venk didn’t know any better, he would have guessed that this was the first time any of them had ever worn a suit of armor other than the customary leather armor most dwarves were fond of. What had happened? Had Rahygren discovered their presence in the city and then returned to Bykram to get reinforcements?

  The second thing Venk noticed was a large device set up on a tripod. It was big, bulky, and, Venk thought with mild surprise, gave the impression of a device that had been created to do dastardly deeds. It had a long, cylindrical barrel consisting of straight metal tubes that were attached to each other, forming the perimeter of the barrel. The ring of metal tubes was at least three feet long and overall, the device extended several feet above their heads.

  Venk squinted as he studied the wicked looking device. One end of the barrel was pointed straight at them, while the other end of the barrel disappeared into the heart of the machine. Next to the barrel’s base was what looked like a hand crank. One of Rahygren’s henchmen had a hand on this handle. Stacked nearby were a dozen or so wooden crates. Venk nodded. He was right. This thing had been created for sinister purposes.

  “I see you admiring my arrow launcher,” the lead dwarf gloated. “It has the capabilities of firing dozens of arrows a minute while you’ll be lucky to get off a few shots. Just one of the many lucrative discoveries I’ve found in here. Now, for the last time, surrender!”

  The other two henchmen were each holding a dense, compact shield a quarter of the size of a normal shield. Both shields were an ugly tarnished bronze color and had seen better days as each shield had scuffs, dents, and several scratches. Each henchman held their shield as though it alone was what was keeping them alive.

  “You must be Rahygren,” Breslin spat out, standing up to his full height. He pulled the power hammer from his belt and held it menacingly. “I hold you and your family responsible for desecrating the lost city of Nar. We will not be the ones surrendering. You will.”

  Rahygren lost his smug smile as his eyes fell on the power hammer. He started sputtering so bad that no one could understand him.

  “How did you… Where did you… I don’t know how you… New plan. You give me that hammer there and I’ll let you choose the manner in which you die. That is my one and only offer to you.”

  Sensing the situation was about to get violent, the two henchmen on either side of Rahygren held up their shields. After a few seconds of silence, both shields emitted several pinging noises as they began expanding their size. Moments later each shield was easily three times the size of a normal shield and twice as massive. Unfortunately, both henchmen had their arms forcibly yanked down to the ground as both discovered that neither could carry a shield of that size and weight.

  Venk eyed Breslin, who returned his puzzled expression. Hadn’t these people ever used this equipment before? If so then wouldn’t they have known how big those shields would have become and therefore would have been better prepared? Instead, both of Rahygren’s accomplices were now trying to lift the shields off the ground and wield them like they would have done a normal shield. However, as strong as most dwarves were, they were unable to lift the heavy shield more than a few inches off the ground and even then, only for a few moments.

  “What’s going on here?” Athos whispered to his brother. “Were those things designed for the humans? This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Breslin whispered back. “I’m willing to bet they’ve never stepped foot in Nar before.”

  “Nonsense,” Tristofer argued, as he and Lukas inched closer. “They obviously have.”

  “Rahygren has, aye, but not them,” Breslin argued. “Look at them! They’re lost! They keep looking about the cavern as though they’ve never seen it before. And, I’m quite sure they haven’t.”

  Understanding, Athos nodded. “Hired mercenaries.”

  Breslin nodded. He turned back to his grandfather’s captor. He nodded his head towards the two men still grappling with the cumbersome shields.

  “Having technical difficulties, are you?”

  Rahygren’s annoyed face turned livid with rage. “Enough talk! Kill them! Kill them all! Leave no survivors!”

  One of the two henchmen wielding one of the giant, useless shields, suddenly squatted and reached down to his belt to pull off an oblong object the size of a clenched fist. He tinkered with it for a second or two before it began ticking loudly. Quickly rising to his feet, he looked straight at Breslin and threw the object directly at him.

  The ticking device began expanding in size much the same way the shields did. In just a matter of a few seconds the object had turned into a boulder large enough to be thrown from a trebuchet. It was going to hit Breslin at any moment.

  Venk watched as Breslin calmly stood his ground as the artificial boulder approached. Gripping the power hammer tightly, he waited until the boulder was directly upon him, swinging just before the metal boulder could make contact. There was a loud clang and the boulder suddenly reversed directions, heading back the way it had come. The henchman who had thrown the boulder watched in utter disbelief as the huge metal object flew unerringly straight towards him. Before he could think to run away, the boulder landed on him with a great crashing of metal. Thankfully the indestructible Narian armor refused to be crushed, thus sparing the henchman’s life. Fortunately for them it meant the goon was now pinned and unable to move.

  “What are you waiting for?” Rahygren demanded as he swung his gaze back to the arrow shooter. “Fire! Kill them!”

  The accomplice standing next to the arrow shooter began cranking the handle. The metal tubes started to spin. Suddenly the air was filled with arrows whooshing by at an alarming rate. The thug was enjoying the power of the device had bestowed upon him as an evil smile had appeared on his face. The shooter spun to the left and sighted Lukas, standing next to Tristofer and Breslin.

  Small nuggets of stone flew through the air as dozens of arrows slammed into the rock wall. Unfortunately, the arrows were getting dangerously close as the thug manning the apparatus had aimed it their way. Venk had to get to his son to protect him!

  He hurried towards Lukas, intent on throwing himself into the line of fire if necessary, but it turned out he didn’t have to. Breslin stepped in front of the boy and took the full brunt of the relentless attack. Arrow after arrow struck Breslin on his chest, pummeling him so hard that he had to take a few steps backward. However, thanks to a set of armor that had been in his family for years (and now that Venk had heard the old dwarf’s tale, knew how Breslin had acquired it) the arrows fell harmlessly to the ground. Not only was the armor not receiving the slightest blemish from the relentless assault of arrows, it also appeared to be absorbing the impacts, so there was no threat of ricocheting arrows.

  Puzzled by the lack of injury his weapon should have been inflicting, the accomplice manning the arrow shooter looked to Rahygren for advice.

  “Don’t stop firing, moron!” Rahygren screamed at his accomplice. “Keep going!”

  “So that’s why your armor never appears dented,” Athos observed, appearing at Breslin’s side. “It’s Narian!”

  Breslin shrugged. “It’s a little known secret. One that I trust you will keep to yourself?”

  Athos nodded. He caught sight o
f the shooter being reloaded. Athos hooked an arm through Breslin’s and picked up his nephew. He looked at Tristofer and shoved him forward with his shoulder.

  “Move, scholar! Find cover! Hurry before that infernal machine starts up again! Venk! Get over here, now!”

  Right on cue, the arrows began appearing again, zipping by dangerously close. Athos steered them towards a group of large, crumbling slabs of stone that might have been used for tables at some point in time. Athos squatted and hooked his shoulder under the slab; Venk mirrored his actions a few moments later. They both heaved, fully expecting the table to tip onto its side. It didn’t budge.

  “Breslin!” Venk snapped. “We need to tip this thing over! Hurry!”

  Breslin whipped out the power hammer and gave the stone slab a solid thunk, thinking it’d be more than adequate to get the job done. The resulting blow didn’t knock the table over, but it did start a series of spidery cracks that crisscrossed across the surface. Moments later the table collapsed into a pile of gravel.

  With a curse, Venk pulled his son close and crouched low behind a second table.

  “Just knock it over,” Venk told Breslin. “You don’t need to destroy it.”

  Breslin harrumphed and readied a swing. The deadly arrows were rapidly approaching as the arrow shooter was adjusted yet again. They had perhaps three seconds before they’d be in serious trouble. Breslin dropped to his knees and swung at one of the three supports holding the slab off the floor. The left support shattered instantly. The slab lurched forward, but still held under the weight of the other two stone support pillars. Breslin pummeled the right and tapped the hammer against the center. The second broke while the center pillar started cracking noisily. Moments later, off balance, the front part of the slab slid forward and smacked heavily onto the ground while the rear of the table remained upright, held in place by the last support column.

  All five of them ducked behind the table as the barrage of arrows began pounding away at their makeshift cover.

  “We’re not going to last long if we don’t do something!” Athos angrily told them. “Think they’re going to run out of arrows? Think again. See all those nearby boxes? I just watched them reload that device of theirs. They have hundreds and hundreds of arrows.”

  Breslin tried to peek up and over the lip of their upturned table but had to dart back down again as three arrows were instantly fired his way.

  “I’m open for suggestions.”

  Tristofer pushed his way past Venk and Athos and grabbed Breslin’s arm. Maintaining a surprisingly strong grip on his arm, the scholar yanked him over to where he had been crouched.

  “What are you doing? Blast it, Tristofer, I don’t have time for this! We must – what is all of this?”

  Breslin had finally noticed several rows of mathematical calculations scrawled out on the stone floor. Also visible was a big black X that had been marked on the wall. Curiosity getting the better of him, Breslin turned back to the scholar and noticed that Tristofer’s hands were black. In fact, his right hand still clutched a lump of charcoal he must have fished out of one of his pockets. Tristofer pointed at the X.

  “Here! Quickly! Hit this spot with your hammer!”

  “What? Tristofer, we don’t –”

  “Stop arguing with me and for once, do as I say! Hit it! Now!!”

  Gritting his teeth, Breslin cocked his arm and swung a good, solid blow at the wall, directly on the X. Such was the force of the blow that the surface of the wall with the X on it completely broke apart and tumbled to the ground, followed closely by a larger chunk of the wall. Then they heard snapping and cracking as a set of cracks snaked up the wall towards the cavern’s ceiling. Not stopping there, the cracks continued across, knocking loose several large stalactites unlucky enough to be in the way. One particularly large stalactite also lay in the approaching crack’s path. After appearing as though the enormous stalactite had successfully stopped the cracking rock’s noisy progress across the ceiling, the jagged line reappeared on the other side of the rock formation and continued towards the far side of the cavern.

  The stalactite suddenly tipped to the left and dropped down a foot or so. The rock anchoring the stalactite to the ceiling continued to break until it finally surrendered the battle and relinquished its grip on the stony icicle. With a loud crack, it fell from the ceiling and plummeted straight down, destroying everything in its path. Fortunately for Breslin and his companions, the arrow shooter was sitting directly below it.

  Rahygren’s henchman dove out of the way just as several tons of calcium carbonate crushed the Narian apparatus flat.

  While Rahygren cursed and swore at his bad luck, Breslin shooed everyone through an open door leading to a small courtyard. Silently they ran, retracing their steps back to the imperial palace.

  “We only have a few minutes while Rahygren regroups,” Breslin warned, easily matching the sprint that Venk and Athos had set.

  With Kasnar still strapped securely to his back, Athos snatched up his nephew and tossed him to his brother. Venk slung Lukas over his shoulder and ran. Not even Kasnar’s extra weight, or Lukas’, could have slowed the two brothers down as they sprinted through the deserted streets. On and on they ran, stopping only long enough for Breslin to unlock a sealed door they had come across. Once they were all through, Tristofer called out to his companions.

  “Wait a moment.” He was clutching at a painful stitch in his side and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “There weren’t any sealed doors on the way to the palace last time. We must have made a wrong turn somewhere.”

  “Would you like to go back and see whereabouts we went wrong?” Breslin sarcastically asked. He, too, was panting heavily. Dwarves, with their short legs, just weren’t meant for running.

  “I’m closing this door,” Athos declared. He pushed the circular door closed and once he verified it wouldn’t open unless one had a ruby helix, like the one on Breslin’s hammer, he turned to his companions. “So if we’re lost, how do we find the palace?”

  “If you would have listened to me, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Athos twisted his head to look over his right shoulder.

  “What did you say, old man?”

  Kasnar cuffed Athos on the back of his head, knocking his helmet down over his eyes.

  “I tried to tell you before we were headed the wrong way but you didn’t pay attention.”

  Athos growled as he tipped his helmet back into place.

  “Then speak up. Everyone’s running. I’m running. Unless you shout it out, I won’t be able to hear you. Do you know which way to the palace or not?”

  Kasnar smacked Athos’ helmet again, once more causing his vision to be blocked.

  “There’s no need to be rude, Master Athos. Turn left here, then follow the street east. It’ll lead straight to the palace.”

  “How do you know?” Venk asked, careful to stand far enough away from his brother so that he was out of Kasnar’s reach.

  The frail dwarf pointed at a nearby sign, covered with unfamiliar symbols.

  “Because the sign says so.”

  “It could say anything,” Tristofer protested, unhappy he wasn’t able to read the Narian script. “You could just be making this up.”

  Kasnar leaned forward and peered at Tristofer closely.

  “Aren’t you a scholar? How can you be a professed expert on Narian culture and not be able to read a simple sign that says, ‘This way to the palace’? It’s the first thing I learned how to do. If you can understand archaic dwarfish, then Narian script should not be that far off.”

  “Archaic dwarfish? Is that why the script looks familiar?”

  Kasnar looked down at Athos and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

  “How long have you had to travel with him?”

  Athos snorted so loudly that his own exhaled breath shook his mustache, which promptly tickled his nose
.

  “Gah! Stop that!”

  While Athos rubbed his nose to get the prickly sensations to pass, Breslin turned to look back the way they had come. Thankfully no one could hear any signs they were being pursued. However, chances were that Rahygren and his men had probably guessed that they intended to hole up in the palace and more than likely knew the direct route there. Breslin and his companions had unwisely chosen the scenic route.

  “Stop dawdling and get moving!” Kasnar scolded him, snapping him out of his reverie. “We’d better get to the palace before they do. Hurry!”

  Once more they were running like mad, only this time no one spoke so they could all hear Kasnar’s directions.

  “Up this street. Turn right once you clear that large pile of rubble.”

  The group turned right and ran past quiet storefronts.

  “Now left here, and then an immediate right.”

  On and on they ran. Venk thought his lungs were going to burst. Finally, after what felt like hours of running, when in actuality it had only been about ten minutes, they were once more standing in the large courtyard against the eastern wall of the great cavern. There, as before, was the large arched doorway leading into the imperial palace. However, now it was guarded by a lone henchman, who was standing alertly in front of the slightly ajar palace doors.

  “Wizards be damned,” Breslin swore. Had Rahygren managed to get here first? If so, where was he?

  “I think there’s only one,” Athos reported as he skimmed the area from the safety of the distant street corner.

  “What do we do now?” Tristofer asked. “The longer we wait the more likely it is that our adversaries catch up!”

  Venk felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. Athos was gently lowering his passenger to the ground.

  “Take Kasnar. I’ll deal with this.”

  “What do you think you’ll be able to do?” Venk asked. He pushed his way over until he was standing directly in his brother’s path. “You have no idea what weapons they have, or what they can do. Don’t even think about doing something as crazy as this.”

  Ignoring his brother, Athos looked over at Breslin. “Be ready to run. Venk, damn it, put on the harness and let Kasnar back in.”

  For once, Venk did as he was told. Once the old man was sitting comfortably on his back, Venk turned to Athos.

  “What’s your plan?”

  Athos pulled out both of his orixes and flicked his wrists, snapping both of them open.

  “I’m going to create a distraction.”

  Giving Lukas a fond pat on his head, Athos quietly snuck off towards the castle, keeping in the darkened shadows of nearby buildings where the illuminated gold chain didn’t venture. Getting as close as he dared, Athos lined up the mercenary in his sights and cocked an arm. He’d made more difficult shots than this back home, so getting an orix to buzz directly in front of the unsuspecting guard should be a piece of cake.

  Crossing his fingers and hoping for the best, Athos hurled his green orix. He watched it spin majestically through the air as it continued its elliptical orbit around the courtyard. Hoping he’d put enough of a spin on the weapon to keep the flight path tight, he watched as it whistled by the guard, coming within two feet of the guard’s head.

  Athos watched as the guard snapped to attention. The guard slowly swung his gaze around the courtyard, looking for whatever it was that had caught his attention. The problem was, Athos noted with disgust, he hadn’t abandoned his post. Yet.

  Time for another try.

  Having already caught the orix as it returned to its thrower, Athos threw the weapon again, this time increasing the spin and changing the angle at which it was thrown. This caused the orix to spin faster and widen its orbit. Once more the emerald green orix buzzed by the guard, but this time it was several feet away. Confused, the guard stared at the rapidly moving object. He cocked his head this way and that as he tried to determine what it was he was looking at.

  Athos caught the spinning weapon before the guard looked his way and this time fired off his gold orix. Not giving much thought to where he was aiming, as he had thrown it on the spur of the moment, Athos watched, horrified, as the orix spiraled closer to its target.

  “Tell me I didn’t, tell me I didn’t,” Athos repeated to himself, hoping he hadn’t blown his cover by throwing the orix too close to the target.

  It was close, very close, but at least it didn’t strike the guard. But, it did whiz by close enough where the guard could feel the wind from its passing. Athos smiled. The guard was now frowning. He had to be thinking some that type of animal was trying to lure him away, presumably from a nest. The guard pulled out an axe and waited for the creature to return.

  Athos threw the green orix again, this time so that it would circle a little farther away. The guard followed a few steps. Next, the gold orix circled by, and the guard moved another few paces away. In this manner Athos led the guard directly towards a darkened alley while watching his companions inch ever closer to the palace.

  “He’s doing it!” Tristofer whispered excitedly. “The guard is moving off! We’ll be able to sneak back inside the palace in just a few moments!”

  Breslin and Venk watched as the unsuspecting guard moved further and further away from his position at the palace entrance. Breslin was impressed. Athos was a master with his two orixes. He had the weapons skirting around buildings, darting through open windows, and even brushing by the guard with only inches to spare. They all watched as the guard, wearing a determined expression on his face, ducked into the darkened alley to investigate.

  Everyone heard it: the type of sharp metallic clang which signified someone had just taken a blow to the head. Had it been Athos? Should one of them go check to make sure he was alright?

  Venk squared his shoulders and was about to run across the open courtyard to see whether or not his brother needed help when Breslin grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

  “Our time just ran out. Listen! They approach from the north!”

  Everyone listened quietly. Venk cursed to himself. Breslin was right. They were coming, and from the sounds of it, they were approaching fast. Without checking to see what the others were going to do, Venk taxed his tiring lungs to the breaking point by sprinting across the street to the palace door. A quick backwards check verified that everyone was not only behind him but were easily keeping up. He must be tiring.

  Breslin reached the palace door first and grabbed Lukas. He tossed him, single-handedly, up and over the crunched chair and through the open door. He looked up in time to see the scholar stare at him in shock.

  “Tristofer, get inside! Hurry!”

  Venk hurdled the crumpled chair propping the door open and turned around in time to see someone dressed in a full suit of golden armor, just like the one Rahygren’s man had been wearing, run from one darkened street to another. Was that Athos? It had to be. If it had been one of their adversaries then he would have come straight at them.

  Breslin swung the power hammer at the chair in a desperate bid to dislodge the bent metal seat that had been keeping the huge palace door open. However, Kasnar’s captor had just appeared from the shadows and was now running all out to get to the door first.

  The first blow echoed noisily all throughout the street. The crumpled chair bent inwards even further, but since the chair had been made of the same metal that the famous armor had been made of, it refused to break.

  Shocked that the chair hadn’t been knocked loose by the ferocity of the blow, Breslin hit it again. And again. The only thing he accomplished was to wedge the damaged remains of the chair further into the wall and the door. There’d be no dislodging that chair now.

  Cursing, Breslin gathered up Lukas and ran after Venk and Kasnar. Tristofer barely kept up.

  “Through there,” Kasnar instructed, pointing to an open doorway on the left. “You’ll find a long hallway. Take the
second door on your left. Hurry!”

  Trusting Kasnar to know what we was doing, Breslin followed the two of them deep into the heart of the palace, ducking through unremarkable doorways and sprinting down endless hallways.

  Kasnar suddenly pointed to another arched door, one that had been damaged and was incapable of closing.

  “In there. Go!”

  “But the door won’t close!” Breslin protested, giving the broken door an angry glance.

  “Irrelevant. Trust me!”

  Once they were inside the room, Tristofer gasped with surprise. The room was almost the size of the entry courtyard. The floors were completely covered with a type of marble that had tiny gold flakes all throughout, causing the entire ground to give off an eerie glow. Hallways and doors were everywhere.

  “This is the king and queen’s private chambers,” Kasnar told them. He pointed at a statue of a stoic dwarf sitting resolutely on a gilded throne. “Just behind the statue is a hidden door. Find it. Open it. Hurry!”

  Venk set Kasnar down and joined Breslin in inspecting the walls. Smoky gray quartz lined every bit of the walls in the royal chambers, and it appeared for all intents and purposes to be a single unbroken surface. There was no way a door could be hidden there. Kasnar had to have been mistaken.

  Breslin gave an exasperated sigh. “There’s nothing here, grandfather. No door.” He pulled the hammer from his belt. “I can make one, though.”

  Kasnar irritably pushed by his grandson and ran a withered hand across the smooth quartz. His hand stopped about eye level. A tiny indentation was revealed. Had that always been there? Kasnar pushed. With a loud click, a doorway formed and swung inward.

  “Get inside! All of you!”

  “But it’s dark in there!” Tristofer whined, leaning around their frail guide to peer inside the dark opening.

  Venk shoved Lukas through the dark doorway while simultaneously grabbing Tristofer’s beard and pulling him forward.

  “Ow! How rude! You don’t have to –”

  Breslin elbowed him in the stomach as he pushed the door closed. A few moments later a three foot section of golden chain, embedded in the ceiling overhead, began to glow, giving off a welcome, albeit cold light.

  Breslin placed his ear to the door. Venk did the same. He looked at his son and held a finger to his lips.

  Rahygren had arrived in the room.

  Tristofer tapped Venk on the shoulder. Venk promptly brushed it aside, much like he’d do with an annoying insect. Tristofer tapped again. Annoyed, Venk turned around. Then his mouth fell open. Without turning back around, Venk nudged Breslin, whose own reaction mirrored his.

  They were in an armory. Not a large armory designed to equip a battalion of men, but enough to arm several people should the need arise. This was one of the Narian king’s four private armories, Kasnar explained. This one had been designed to be used for emergency purposes only.

  “How did you know this was here?” Tristofer wanted to know.

  “I saw the door here a number of years ago,” Kasnar explained, correctly guessing what his companions were thinking. “As you can imagine, I decided to keep the information to myself.”

  “You clearly had access to the city,” Tristofer argued. “Why didn’t you just escape?”

  “Look at me. Do I look like I could overpower my captor? I had an escort everywhere I went. I think once Rahygren knew I was incapable of escaping he deliberately allowed me out of my room. However, only with an escort.”

  “That’s mean,” Lukas softly exclaimed.

  “Tell me about it,” Kasnar agreed.

  Three suits of armor, including one that was practically oozing with jewels, sat somberly on their display stands. Three shields, adorned with the Narian crest, an upside-down hammer amidst a purple backdrop of elegant scrollwork, was visible on each. Half a dozen swords, short swords, axes, and daggers were also sitting neatly on their shelves. All sported a layer of dust several inches thick.

  Breslin, Venk, and Tristofer each moved to the suits of armor and began dusting them off, as though seeing the wondrous suits looking anything less than pristine was offensive.

  “You already have a set,” Venk told Breslin. He reverently picked up a helmet, dusted it off on his trousers, and started to replace his own.

  “Leave it,” Kasnar whispered. “There are more important things in here to worry about than that infernal armor.”

  Venk looked longingly back at the glittering pieces of silver and gold. It was genuine Narian armor! It was easily worth a king’s fortune!

  “I said to let it go, lad,” Kasnar softly told him. “It’s only a matter of time before we’re discovered. Here, take this instead.”

  Venk looked down at the proffered gift, which turned out to be dusty, tarnished, metal arm band about three inches wide and half an inch thick.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Put it on. Breslin, you do the same. Even you, Tristofer.”

  Kasnar handed Breslin and Tristofer an identical arm band and waited for them to put it on.

  Breslin stared disbelievingly at the ugly metal band and eyed his grandfather as though he had gone ne.

  “What good is this going to do me?”

  “You’ll thank me later. Now, do you see that device down on the shelf, next to your left knee?”

  “Aye.”

  “Take that.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something we’re going to need. Let’s see what else we have in here. Ah. Master Venk, here lad, you take this.”

  Venk picked up a device loosely resembling a crossbow, but without its limbs. Instead of an arrow track for the bolt to sit in there was another row of metal tubes forming a cylinder. A metal wheel with a small protuberance was situated on the right side. The undersides of the device, directly to the left of where the metal tubes were, had a small rectangular opening with grooves in all four corners.

  “What’s this?” Venk asked in a hushed tone. No sense in giving away their location if they didn’t have to.

  Kasnar wasn’t listening. The tiny fellow was down on his knees, searching frantically for something on the lower shelves.

  “Why put it in here if there isn’t any… Ah! Here we are!”

  Kasnar slowly regained his feet and held out an object that was about a foot long by six inches wide. The top of the thing was rectangular shaped, and had grooves on all four corners. Venk turned the device over and compared the rectangular opening with that of the object Kasnar had given him. They were a perfect match. Venk gingerly pushed the narrow object into the device until he heard it click. The device made a few more clicks before falling silent.

  “Now, turn that there and it’ll be ready. Here, I found several more canisters. Keep them on you.”

  Venk smiled. He finally figured out what he was holding. This was a smaller version of the arrow shooter that Rahygren had used on them. The rectangular object he had inserted into this weapon had to contain mini arrows.

  As he looked back at Kasnar, he spotted the four other cartridges that had been dumped at his feet. Fastening them into place on his belt and several open loops on his baldric, Venk turned to see Kasnar pointing at shields small enough to be suitable for underlings. He had Lukas take one while Tristofer took the other.

  Everyone cringed as a loud crash was heard through the door. Someone began pounding on the wall.

  “Slide that bolt over there,” Kasnar urged his grandson, pointing to the top right corner of the door. “That’ll keep the door from opening in case they find the release for it.”

  Breslin shoved the bolt up into the ceiling and hooked it into place.

  “I hear you in there! There’s nowhere to hide, fools! Surrender!”

  When it became clear that no one wanted to take Rahygren up on his more than generous offer to give up, more crashing could be heard, followed closely by a sharp
set of commands.

  “What’s he saying?” Venk whispered.

  “He’s called for something to be brought here,” Breslin whispered back. “I couldn’t make it all out. Something about a disruptor.”

  Tristofer nervously shook his head. “That can’t be good.”

  Breslin pushed his way past his companions so that he could talk to his grandfather. He held up a shiny object the size of his water bag.

  “So what is this? What am I supposed to do with it?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kasnar admitted sadly. “I’ve read about the portable arrow shooter, and therefore recognized its components immediately. I remember reading something about other weapons that were brutally effective in close quarters, and I suspected that’s what it was as soon as I saw it. As to what it does I don’t think anyone knows.”

  “What if it doesn’t do anything?” Breslin asked. “Why bother taking it?”

  “Because you’re standing in an armory, lad,” Kasnar patiently pointed out.

  “While I appreciate the thought that you’d want us to be able to protect ourselves,” Tristofer began, holding the small shield as though it belonged to a small child, “but I cannot see how this will be that much of a help.”

  Kasnar turned to whisper something in Breslin’s ear. He turned to look at his grandfather, skepticism written all over his face.

  “Really?”

  Kasnar nodded.

  Breslin was suddenly holding the power hammer and made a move to conk Tristofer over his head. Two things happened at the same time. The metal bracelet that Kasnar had given the scholar suddenly glowed and rapidly expanded into a three foot by three foot metal square. Also, the small child-sized shield that he had been given clicked loudly and rapidly expanded its size, becoming a durable, lightweight, full-sized shield.

  Tristofer was impressed. “Very well. You talked me into it. I’ll keep it.”

  Kasnar shook his head. “A wise move, lad.”

  Fifteen minutes later Rahygren’s voice called out to them from within the king’s private chamber.

  “This is your last warning! This is the only deal I’ll make with you. Surrender now and give up the hammer! That’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

  “How many are out there?” Kasnar suddenly asked.

  That drew Breslin up short. He turned to stare at his grandfather.

  “What? Can this not wait? There are more important things to worry about.”

  “Answer me, boy.”

  “Including Rahygren, five. Maybe six, depending on whether or not the guard Athos lured away was with the original group. Why do you want to know?”

  “You do realize that as of right now we outnumber them?”

  “Aye, we do, grandfather, but in this scenario, we can’t count you, Lukas, or Tristofer as being combat ready. Therefore we number three, and at the moment, with Athos out there somewhere, we number two.”

  “We have the advantage,” Kasnar stated.

  “In what way?”

  “They don’t know the true power of the hammer.”

  Breslin was unimpressed.

  “So? Neither do we.”

  “We show them.”

  “And risk Lukas?” Breslin shook his head. “I will not involve an underling in any way.”

  “Lukas is already involved,” Kasnar pointed out, “whether you like it or not.”

  A loud commotion sounded outside the door. Someone pounded on a nearby wall.

  “Come out now and I promise to let you live!”

  “You promise us?” Breslin barked back. “What does the word of a thief and kidnapper mean to us? Absolutely nothing! This is my final offer. You and your men lay down your arms. If you do that –”

  A rumbling began and grew steadily stronger. Everyone clapped their hands over their ears as an earsplitting shriek rent the air. Higher and higher the piercing noise rose, attaining a decibel level that could rupture eardrums with prolonged exposure. Armor and weapons were knocked off their shelves and displays as the tremors grew in intensity.

  “This is it!” Tristofer wailed. “This is the end! We must surrender! We must…”

  Venk snatched a gilded mace from the ground and conked it over Tristofer’s head. The scholar collapsed into a heap.

  Lukas stared at his father with wide-eyed astonishment.

  “Been wanting to do that for quite some time now,” Venk muttered angrily to himself.

  The deafening wail was so loud now that no one could hear each other speak. He nervously eyed his son. He had no idea how they were going to get out of this predicament.