Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 03] - The Ancient Legacy(V1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  "Your majesty," Mathew said, pushing himself up onto one elbow. "I thought—"

  "When we saw the smoke and heard the first explosion, we realized something was wrong," Delain told him. "I or­dered the helmsman to steer away from the bay, fearing a trap had been set for us. To our surprise, we saw two more ships in the harbor than we expected. One was burning and another was bearing down on a sloop that was block­ing the entrance. A third ship is still trapped in the bay. I must confess, you're the last person in the world I ex­pected to meet under these circumstances. Nevertheless, I'm delighted to find that you're alive. My intention was to seize Andreas Holt and hang him."

  "It was a trap. I met with Holt and his captain, a fellow named Kennard, on board the Revenge. He was crowing about how they'd let information leak out. They knew you would come after him."

  "He was right. But what in the world were you doing there?" asked Delain.

  "One of the ships you saw burning was the Daedalus, a Felizian merchantman. I've been her navigator for the past four years. Just over a week ago the Vargothans sent a message to our captain asking that he meet with them. They wanted to use the Daedalus to draw you out into the open and then destroy you with her cannons. Unfortu­nately, it was as much a trap for us as it was for you,"

  "Explain."

  "The Vargothans had two goals in mind. They wanted Felize's cannons and their black powder—and they wanted you. Our captain was a man named Phillipe Edrington."

  "Was?" Delain said.

  "He's dead, your majesty. He was killed by Kennard.

  Andreas Holt was there at the time. By the way, he told me that he was the governor of Sheeley Province. I've never heard of Sheeley Province."

  "That's what the Vargothans have renamed it. What else did Holt tell you?"

  "That he wanted to enlist my aid as a navigator. Ap­parently, he's been under some pressure to get rid of you. He said he had asked his king for reinforcements, but was refused."

  Delain smiled. "Good."

  "Not really," Mathew said. "They succeeded in getting twenty of our cannons."

  Father Thomas and the king exchanged glances.

  Mathew quickly explained what happened after the Daedalus sailed into the bay, and about his attempts over the last four years to try and retrieve the ring. He told the story without embellishment, but his bitterness at his fail­ure was apparent. Father Thomas and Delain listened without interruption. When he was through, the priest gen­tly touched him on the head.

  "I set an impossible task for you, my son, but I'm proud of what you tried to do. Your father would be, too."

  Mathew felt a lump forming in his throat and he looked out the window.

  "So your plan was to go to Palandol, take up employ­ment as a fencing instructor in Seth's court, then sneak across the border to Nyngary and steal the ring back?" Delain asked. "Yes."

  Delain shook his head. "A bold plan, my friend. Did you consider what would happen if you met Teanna again?"

  "I didn't see that I... that we have any other choice, your majesty. I believe the ring is in Corrato, though I don't know exactly where. Unless I can find a way to re­trieve it, the end is a foregone conclusion, more so now that Vargoth has our cannons."

  "Indeed," said Delain. "We've been trying to get them ourselves for some time now. Perhaps you could tell us how they work and how we could make one?"

  "Of course," Mathew said. "But they're useless without the black powder. That's what makes the guns function. The Felizians discovered it two years ago, and you know what they've been able to accomplish since."

  "I hardly consider anything the Felizians have done as accomplishments. Black powder, you say?"

  "Yes, your majesty. It's a mixture of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter. In the right proportions, it causes an explo­sion within the muzzle of the gun that propels a ball for­ward. They mine the chemicals in the southern part of Felize."

  "Could you reconstruct such a mixture? The substances seem common enough."

  "I think so. I could also draw a picture of what a can­non looks like and how it works."

  "Excellent. That should help us even the odds a bit. But we still have the problem of the ring. A hundred can­nons are no match for Teanna, but I may be able to help a bit with that.

  "Until a few days ago we believed you dead. One of the lessons I've had to learn as a king is the value of gathering intelligence on what the enemy is up to. Some time ago James of Mirdan and I managed to place a man in Nyn-gary's palace guard. The details aren't important. Suffice to say that he's there.

  "I recently received a report from him that says he be­lieves the ring is hidden in Teanna's personal apartment. I'll give you the details after you've had something to eat and a chance to recover."

  "That would be wonderful," said Mathew.

  "It still leaves us with the problem of getting you into her palace and getting you out again in one piece. I agree that we cannot win without your ring. Of course, there is another alternative, but I'll discuss that later."

  Mathew wasn't sure what the king was referring to, but decided it would be best to wait and see what Delain had in mind. "I'm willing to try," he said.

  "Man for man our people are a match for anyone. I've recently been in contact with Bajan, and I believe they will join us when the time is right. James will, too. Much will depend on what you can or can't accomplish in Corrato. Bajan and Mirdan look at Alor Satar and can see it's only a matter of time before the Durens turn their attention to them. Unfortunately, fighting against the Ancients' magic is another matter. We'll have to figure out a way to get you to Nyngary, since we can't simply sail into Corrato and drop you off."

  "If we travel south and use Cole's Pass, we could cut across the lower portion of Cincar and be in Nyngary in less than two weeks," Father Thomas pointed out.

  Delain thought for a moment. "Yes, that would work." "If Father Thomas can accompany me, I'm willing to try," Mathew said. "I've never been to Cincar, or Nyngary, for that matter. After that I'd like to see what can be done about freeing Gawl from his prison."

  "It's being taken care of," Delain told him. "When Fa­ther Thomas returned to us, he brought news about what Lord Guy is up to. Quite a number of people in Sennia were already upset by what he did, and the country is now in a state of civil war. If all goes well, we should have him out within a week. Jeram Quinn is there now seeing to the details."

  "Quinn?" Mathew said. "In Sennia? I haven't thought of him in years. He certainly gets around, doesn't he?"

  "Generally, at least where you are concerned," Delain observed mildly.

  "I suppose I should be glad he's not here to arrest me," Mathew said.

  Delain and Father Thomas both smiled. "Jeram tends to be somewhat single-minded in his views," said Delain.

  "I suppose this is as good a time to talk about it as any. Siward has told me what happened in Devondale, but I would like to hear it from you. Is it true you . .. ah—"

  "Strangled Berke Ramsey? Yes, your highness ... after he murdered my father."

  Delain leaned back in his chair and considered the young man in front of him. There was no anger in Mathew's voice, and whatever emotions were going through his mind were impossible to read on his face. The law was something important to the king and he held it in high regard.

  "What if Ramsey's act was an accident?" Delain asked. Mathew swung his feet over the edge of the cot and stood up. "He was in the process of trying to load another bolt into his crossbow when I reached him. I understand that it was wrong to take matters into my own hands, but I don't regret what I did. I've had a chance to think about it over the last four years, and in retrospect I would not have altered my conduct even now. What would you do if someone murdered your father?"

  "Probably the same thing you did, but then, Jeram Quinn works for me. Tell me, Mathew, did you hear Quinn yell for you to let Ramsey go?"

  "I don't recall. He may have. I do remember one of his deputies trying to pull me off Ramse
y, but it was too late by then."

  "You were beside yourself?" Delain suggested. Mathew took a deep breath and let it out. "No ... I was angrier than I've ever been in my life and angrier than I can ever remember being since, but I would be less than honest if I told you I didn't know what I was doing." "But you were beside yourself with rage, correct?" "Uh . . . correct, your highness." "Excellent. That is exactly what I, your king, had thought. Given the strained circumstances of seeing your father murdered, and the fact that the man who murdered him might have done the same to you or your friends, it is

  the crown's judgment that the circumstances were beyond what any reasonable man could be expected to bear. I par­don you for the crime. Now where the hell is my drink?" Delain asked, looking around the room.

  Father Thomas, who had retreated to the table during the conversation, picked it up from the table and handed it to Delain. Save for the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, his expression was serious. Delain downed the glass in a single gulp.

  Mathew blinked. "Thank you, your highness. Perhaps you could mention it to Jeram Quinn when you see him." "I'll do that," Delain said. "And I assure you he won't be displeased by the news."

  "That's wonderful. There are two more things I need to tell you."

  The first was about the crew of the Daedalus, who were waiting for him, and where they could be picked up.

  "Of course," said Delain. "I'll give the orders at once. And the second?"

  Mathew took the oilskin envelope from the pocket of his breeches and showed it to them. He explained about the strange lockbox they had recovered on Coribar and the priest who died trying to protect it. They both examined the letter for several minutes, but neither could make any­thing of it. Delain eventually gave up and tossed it on the dresser, telling Mathew he would see him at dinner. Then he and Father Thomas went on deck.

  In truth, Mathew was still weak from his ordeal and more than happy to rest. The cabin steward knocked on the door a few minutes later. He was carrying a tray with a bowl of broth and a sandwich, courtesy of the king. He also brought a razor and some shaving soap. Until Mathew took the first bite, he didn't realize how hungry he was. He finished the food in no time at all. He was too v/ide awake to sleep by then, so he decided to make use of the razor. The beard definitely had to go.

  While spreading the shaving soap over his face, his eye happened to fall on the parchment's reflection in his mir­ror. It was still lying where Delain had left it. Mathew blinked and looked more closely. The words suddenly made sense. A code it might be, but it was no longer just gibberish. The words had been written backward.

  He called for the cabin steward and asked him for paper and a pen. The man brought them a few minutes later. It took Mathew a little over a half hour to rewrite the mes­sage. Even after he did, most of the references and num­bers were meaningless, but one thing caught his eye. Part of the letter talked about a meeting a week earlier between someone named Htes—he figured out that meant Seth— and two people named Keram and Arikahs. It was sup­posed to have taken place at a town called Elevirag. Keram, of course, would have been Marek, and Arikahs Shakira. He'd never heard of either of them. Elevirag was Garivele, a seaside town in the western part of Vargoth.

  Excited, he went on deck to tell Delain what he had found. Father Thomas and the king were talking on the quarterdeck.

  "Mat," Father Thomas said, surprised to see him up and about already.

  "I think I know what the message on the parchment says. Well, at least part of it."

  "Let's go back to the cabin," Delain suggested.

  Once there, Mathew demonstrated how the words had been written by holding the parchment up to the mirror. He went on to explain about the parts of the document that he had been able to decipher. As soon as he got to the name Shakira, Delain and Father Thomas looked at one another.

  "What did I say?" Mathew asked.

  "Shakira is the Orlock queen," Father Thomas ex­plained. "Her name is only known to a few people."

  "The Orlocks have a queen?"

  "They do," Father Thomas replied. "It was she who struck the bargain with Karas Duren to take the lower third of Elgaria in return for her people's help. You look surprised." "I am."

  That the Orlocks had a queen puzzled Mathew since the only Orlocks he had ever encountered were males. But of course, if there were males, there had to be females. It also followed that they had some form of government, particularly after the buildings he'd seen in the Emerald Cavern.

  'This is very strange," said Delain. "Coribar is not ex­actly in the next province. To get there, Shakira would have had to travel by ship, and I've never heard of any Or­lock setting foot on a ship .. . any kind of ship. But she ob­viously met with Seth and Marek. The question is, why?" "Because it's well-situated for all three," said Father Thomas. "Do you have any idea what they would want to meet about?"

  "I'm not sure," the king answered, "but this is most dis­turbing. I want both of you to remain alert if any more in­formation about this meeting comes to light. It makes me very uneasy."

  "Why?" asked Mathew.

  Delain walked to the window and looked out at the foaming trail the ship left on the water. "Because I can see no reason for it. The world is changing before our eyes. Orlocks have left their caves and now live on the land— our land. Coribar has remained largely apart from the wars and conflicts of the past three centuries, and now suddenly seeks to open a dialogue with creatures who de­test mankind. And last, Vargothan mercenaries who are supposedly allied with Alor Satar may now also be in­volved with Coribar. It is not only strange, it is bizarre ... So I say again to you, should any more information come your way, you are to communicate it to me with all haste."

  14

  Camden Keep, Sennia

  The last thing Gawl expected to see through the bars of his cell door was Jeram Quinn's face. He was so surprised, he stood up, spilling his drink.

  "Quinn?"

  "Yes, your majesty. Please keep your voice down."

  Gawl crossed the room in three strides. "What the devil are you doing here?"

  "Rescuing you."

  "Rescuing me? How? I assume you didn't just walk past the guards?"

  Quinn opened the outer door a little wider and mo­tioned with his head. A heavyset man with him came into the room. The man bowed to the king and promptly dropped down to one knee to examine the lock on the cell door.

  "This is Master Samuel Parrish of Blekley Province," Quinn explained. "He's a locksmith of some talent. We'll have you out in just a moment."

  Parrish unrolled a leather pouch he was carrying and spread it open on the floor. It contained a variety of tools.

  "Quinn, how the hell did you get in here?"

  "By order of the Council of Bishops. Paul Teller has se­cretly been meeting with them for the past two weeks, ever since Guy announced that he would try you for treason."

  Jeram Quinn slid a piece of paper through the bars for Gawl to see. It bore the seal of the council.

  "So you were in the neighborhood and decided to stroll into Edward Guy's stronghold with that piece of paper and wave it around?"

  "The garrison commander here seemed suitably im­pressed by it," Quinn said. "Of course, the hundred thou­sand gold crowns that Delain raised went a long way toward easing the man's conscience. Fortunately, Lord Guy is in Barcora at the moment, but I think you'll find that the garrison is now loyal to you. The bribe was Siward Thomas's idea, by the way."

  "He's still alive, then," Gawl said. "Excellent. I'm go­ing to kill him when I see him. He's responsible for my spending four years in this hole."

  "He's responsible for your being alive," Quinn said without looking up, as he concentrated on what the lock­smith was doing.

  Gawl leaned closer and watched as well. He was about to reply when a distinct click of the lock stopped him. The door swung open an inch. Tentatively, Gawl pushed it a little farther, as if he didn't believe it would move. Quinn smiled up at
the king, then took a step back along with the locksmith, who seemed quite pleased with himself. Gawl pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped through.

  The first thing he did was to embrace Quinn, who all but disappeared from view for several seconds. He then turned to the locksmith and gripped him by the shoulder.

  "My thanks, Master Parrish."

  Quinn put a hand on his chest and sucked in a deep breath as he tried to recover from Gawl's hug. "I would like to be gone from here as quickly as possible, your majesty. However effective money is as an inducement, it does not guarantee loyalty."

  "Good point. Did you happen to see Rowena on the way in?"

  "No. She's at Tenley Palace with her father. I have fifty soldiers with me. They should be more than enough to get us to Marigan. A ship is waiting there to take us to Mirdan."

  "Mirdan?"

  "I don't know how much of the recent developments have reached you," Quinn told him. "But Arteus Ballenger and a substantial portion of the Southern Army defected the day after Guy announced your trial. Riots have broken out all across Sennia, in spite of the Church's endorse­ment. The country in now in state of civil war."

  "No, I didn't know that," Gawl said, his face going seri­ous.

  As they made their way down the narrow staircase, Gawl let Quinn do most of the talking.

  "There has also been a schism of sorts within the Church," Quinn explained. "When the riots started, Ferdi­nand Willis fled to the Abbey of Barcora and ordered that the gates be locked. All foreigners were expelled and the schools were closed. He has posted armed guards within the complex and along the walls."

  "Priests should stick to what they do best," said Gawl.

  At the bottom of the staircase was the great hall of the castle, and they came to a halt. Gawl stopped and looked around the room. Hanging above a limestone fireplace against the wall was a coat of arms with two crossed swords. He strode over to it, reached up and yanked the crest down, then removed one of the swords. He hefted it in his hand a few times, testing the balance. Satisfied, he glanced at Quinn and the locksmith and flashed them one of his smiles. The sword looked like a child's toy in his massive hand.