Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1)

by Jonathan Renshaw

  “Halt,” the foremost shouted, and started forward.

  Aedan knew that they would not let him walk free. The soldiers were too far away to see his face, so he turned and ran. The man chasing him was no mean athlete. Heavy steps were drawing nearer.

  After only a few paces Aedan reached the stairs and had to slow down as he climbed to avoid the traps. Behind him the distance closed rapidly. He would not have enough of a lead to climb down from the central feature.

  A metallic clank was followed by a scrape of rock, a yell, and a whoosh of air. The yell became a scream that ended in a cavernous splash.

  Aedan looked behind him. A large portion of the stairway had hinged open, dropping the soldier into dark waters beneath. He hoped the man would not drown. Then it occurred to him that he was holding a rope, and that keeping it would only incriminate him. He slipped a quick loop around a pillar and dropped the end into the water. When he felt it tighten, he shinned up the rest of the stairs, replaced the cover, climbed down using the outraged statue, returned it to its place, and crept back to his bed. Nobody stirred.

  He lay awake until morning, curiosity scratching at the edges of his mind, whining, demanding, keeping slumber well away. Too many questions. What was down there that could drive a whole city to panic? What had Culver discovered about the storms? Was there truly something to fear – and beneath the very streets of Castath?

  “Jump! Get off your beds, you lazy oxen!”

  This time he really did jump, and grazed his fist against a beam. He hoped Dun hadn’t noticed.

  “We are looking for Aedan.”

  The soldiers were from one of the special divisions that wore the white tunics over their chain mail, setting them apart for royal duties only. There was no hiding from these elite troops, not even in the marshals’ quarter.

  Kollis pointed.

  “Come with us please,” the senior officer said.

  Aedan’s pale face spoke eloquently. He stood and followed the soldiers out the classroom. They gave him no explanation and were silent in response to his questions.

  They knew.

  He considered running, but against such men he would have little chance. They led him down the stairs which had been pulled up and reset during the night. The landing at the bottom was filled with carts of stone and mortar being wheeled towards the store room. Aedan understood now why the morning training session had taken place in the display room.

  He tried to think of some way to justify himself, how he might bargain for a softer penalty. They continued on down the broad passage, through the weapons hall and into a section of the buildings Aedan had never been allowed to enter. They passed two doors and stopped outside the third where they knocked.

  The door was opened by another soldier and they entered a large office. Not an inch of any wall was visible. Packed bookshelves reached from corner to corner. The biggest desk Aedan had ever seen filled a good portion of the room. He began to tremble as he saw Prince Burkhart, Ganavant, and Culver whose private office he assumed this was.

  “What’s the matter Aedan,” asked the prince, smiling. “You look rather shaken.”

  “N – n – nothing Your Highness,” Aedan said, trying to keep his knees locked.

  Burkhart laughed easily. “I suppose this was a somewhat disturbing way to bring you down here. Let me put your mind at rest. We need your assistance on a matter of great importance.”

  Aedan relaxed slightly at the prince’s easy tones, but he noticed that Ganavant was fixing him with a relentless stare. Aedan kept his attention on the prince.

  “We need to send a party out to Kultûhm to investigate something. It has come to my attention that you actually entered this fortress. That would make you and your travelling companions the only living experts on the place. We can find nobody else alive who has set foot there.”

  Aedan was not surprised at this. He wanted to point out that he had seen no more of the place than the entrance courtyard, but he did not yet trust his voice, and Ganavant was still looking at him with those bulging, fly-hunting eyes.

  “So I have assembled a group,” Burkhart continued, “to accompany Culver and his assistant. Mistress Gilda tells me that you are familiar with a dark-skinned foreign girl who can act as a nurse?”

  “Liru? – she would have called her Lee’runda.”

  “Yes, that was the one that was … recommended. She will accompany you. You leave at first light tomorrow. Do you have any questions?”

  It sank in. This was not about being asked for information. He was actually being ordered to return to that dreaded place, that stronghold of unsleeping watchfulness and death. If they knew he had been there then they would know the account. They would know that the ground even within the fortress was treacherous. Last time, he had barely escaped with his life. How did they expect him to slip the noose again?

  Over the past four years, Kultûhm had haunted the worst of his nightmares. His only comfort on waking had been that he would never see the place again. And now they wanted to send him back.

  Aedan’s jaw fell and his face greyed.

  “I think I can guess your worries,” Burkhart said. “You are wondering, with the months lost on the journey, if you will pass the year.”

  Aedan had been wondering if he would survive the year.

  “Culver,” Burkhart indicated the robed chancellor standing on his left, “holds the academy’s high seat. He is the most learned man I know. I hereby task him with the matter of your continued education. You shall not fail the year on account of your service.”

  The austere man gave a stiff nod.

  Aedan, in spite of his fears was embarrassed – the prince might as well have asked the chancellor to do Aedan’s laundry.

  “Right then,” said Burkhart, “I shall be on my way. I wish you all luck. Culver, may you find the answers you seek.”

  The prince smiled as he left, but Aedan followed him with his eyes and, just before the door, saw the slackening of the unguarded face, as if drained by inner conflict. Ganavant’s parting glance, however, was little short of a smirk. Both worried him.

  “Be ready by dawn,” Culver said. He did not even look at Aedan as he gathered sheets of paper from his laden wheatfield of a desk. “Meet us at the stables with your belongings packed. Saddlebags only. Dun has been briefed and will provide you with equipment and light weapons. I expect you to be punctual. Captain Senbert and his men will be waiting for us at the city gates.”

  Aedan spent the rest of the day in a flurry of preparation. Dun provided a sleeping roll, weatherproof cloak, and a small hunting knife, but no more weapons, not even a sling or bow. Aedan was surprised that he was to be so lightly armed, especially in the context of the Fenn crisis. It looked more like being disarmed. When he asked, Dun’s answer was quick and stiff – the knife would be sufficient for the purposes of a guide; soldiers would deal with any threats. It sounded like Dun was repeating what he had been told rather than actually answering. Aedan sensed that argument would be futile.

  There was much excitement among Aedan’s friends, and he was assailed with many questions he could not answer. But underneath all the well-wishing, a horrible fear was beginning to gnaw at him. If ever he had needed advice, it was now, but he was not sure whom he could trust other than Osric. Reaching Osric would require leaving the academy during class hours. He could sneak out – it wouldn’t be the first time – but he decided under the circumstances to play by the rules and ask permission.

  Dun refused him. Like before, his response was unusually quick, as if he had been primed, so Aedan asked Skeet and was allowed out.

  He found Osric at his house, preparing a gruesome dinner that contained turnip, potato and partridge, and that had somehow been transformed into axle grease – a sticky, opaque black mass that glared up from the bottom of the pot like the dead eye of some giant fish. It smelled even worse than it looked. Aedan refused so much as a sample taste.

  Osric stormed and bothered about se
cond-rate ingredients and partridges not fit for cockroaches until Aedan was able to contain his frustration no longer.

  “I’ve been sent to Kultûhm,” he blurted.

  Osric dropped the spoon into the poisonous concoction with a thick plop. “Culver’s quest?”

  “Yes, but it’s not what you think. I overheard something last night and I’m worried that we are being sent to our graves.”

  He told Osric about the conversation he had overheard in the store room, how Dun had armed him with nothing but a midget knife that would be questionable protection against a block of cheese, and how nobody of importance was being included. “Liru and I are both disposable. Culver and his assistant are the only two of any real standing and the rest will be common soldiers. I think they are hoping that the fortress will be our end and if it isn’t, the soldiers will probably have orders to finish the job.”

  “Hmm.” Osric sat down, causing the chair to screech with the strain, and folded his arms. “I very much doubt the soldiers would actually take you as far as the fortress if they have been given such orders. Our soldiers can be a superstitious lot, and Kultûhm is a name that some even fear to speak. They will probably travel a few days out, cut some throats, wait three months and return with a well-honed story. Soldiers who have accepted orders to commit murder would not think twice about rearranging the orders to save themselves trouble and danger.”

  “Wouldn’t they be worried the prince would learn the truth if he investigated?”

  “I think we both know that the prince’s first concern right now is not with truth. Any soldiers given the orders you suspect would know it too. As long as the result and the story are expedient, Burkhart would probably be satisfied. Of late he has not been toasted for his integrity.”

  Aedan let his head drop forward onto the table with a thump. “How did I land myself with this?”

  “I suspect that the prince does not actually want you dead, but it is well known in our circles that you were at Kultûhm, and if he did not send you along it would raise questions. It is also necessary for a nurse to accompany the party considering the possible dangers. He probably felt that this foreign girl was the one he could most afford to lose. Did he look happy about the arrangement to you?”

  “I think he was trying to. Trying really hard. But he looked like he was going to be sick when he walked out.”

  “I would have thought so. He wants to be a good man, but there are things he wants more. I doubt he enjoyed making that decision, and he’ll be partly relieved when you all return.”

  “What do you mean – ‘when we all return’? How is that likely?”

  “Because I shall see that it happens.”

  Aedan prepared to ask a string of questions, but the general held up his hand.

  “Yes, I know the prince would intervene if he thought I intended to join the party, but in two days I’m heading out with a small patrol for a routine inspection of some of the outlying posts. Seeing as I decide where to patrol, I’m going to head east, and when I find your trail and then your camp, I’ll join the quest and assume command, having a strong desire to see the fortress for myself. I have often wanted to assess it as a prospective outpost.”

  “Will Burkhart not arrest you on your return?”

  “I’ll send another officer to do the rounds. No duties will be left unattended. But even if they were, the prince would be bold to move against me. I have a unique position here – I answer to the king, to the crown in Tullenroe. I am really just on loan to Castath.”

  Aedan considered what Osric had said. “What if they make a move before you get there?”

  “That is going to be your challenge – making sure that they don’t. They will not risk thinning the party until they have travelled well beyond the last of the hamlets. That would take five days on horseback going quick and steady, but it could be done in fewer. It is vital that you slow the pace somehow.”

  He got up, fetched a small leather pouch from a cupboard and handed it over. “Ground frogweed. Five or six pinches of this will leave a horse very unhappy for a day or two. Won’t get much more than a stiff walk and an evil wind.”

  Aedan took the bag and smelled the contents. It reminded him of silage. There would be no difficulty getting a horse to swallow this.

  “I’ll try to send a message to Culver,” Osric resumed, “but chances are he’s worked it out already. If you need to communicate without the soldiers understanding, use Sulese. There are only a handful of them that know it, and they are all posted outside the city. Act as if you are practicing languages. Next best would be Fenn.”

  Some of the weight had lifted from Aedan’s mind, but much remained. Without thinking about it, he buried his head in his hands while the thoughts tumbled. Gradually he became aware of Osric’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Could you repeat that?”

  “I said there’s something else, isn’t there? You have the look of a beaten animal, a look that nobody gets overnight. Giddard tells me you have started acting strangely this year. You pay no attention in classes, you keep apart from your friends, and you’re either lost in your own thoughts or snappish.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Osric regarded him. “Neither of us believes that,” he said.

  “It’s my concern. I really don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”

  “Look, if it …”

  “Osric, please. I mean it. I’m grateful that you want to assist, but you can’t. And thank you for being willing to help us with this quest or sham of a quest or whatever it is.”

  Osric’s granite features remained fixed as he searched Aedan’s face for answers, but Aedan was locked down, tight as a hatch in a gale. Finally the general sat back, “It will be my pleasure,” he said. “Now you can repay me by cooking up something that a man can swallow without pain while we go through as many contingencies as the time will allow, beginning with the possibility that no murderous orders have been given. That the prince considered Ganavant’s suggestion, we know, but whether he actually gave the order is not certain.”

  When Aedan returned to the academy, Dun was waiting at his dorm, white with rage. “You dared to go behind my back!” he shouted, striding forward.

  The rising fury in the man triggered something. Aedan began to shake. Then he felt his legs giving way.

  No, he thought. Not here. Not in front of them all!

  But Dun was no monster. He cooled himself off when he saw Aedan start to crumple. He glared a moment before breaking off. “Breakfast as normal,” he said. “Stables by first light.” Then he turned and left.

  Peashot was looking at Aedan with a mixture of curiosity and concern, but Aedan wanted to be alone. He turned away, sat on his bed, and hid himself in a book while his nerves recovered.

  By morning he was the first at the stables, or at least he thought he was until Liru spoke from the shadows.

  “You know what this is really about?”

  Aedan managed not to jump. “What do you mean?”

  “If it were the important quest they say it is, why am I here? I know why you are here – you have been to this Kultûhm – but why me? There are many nurses with more experience. It cannot be the honourable opportunity for training they say, because then they would not have chosen a foreigner. I believe that I was chosen because they would not care much if I did not make it back.” Her voice was heavy and cold as the morning.

  “Liru I’m sorry –”

  “Do not try to make me feel better,” she cut in. “I want facts.” She stepped out from the shadow. Her face was rigid.

  “I have only suspicions.”

  She inclined her head.

  “You’ve heard that Culver had his own ideas about the storm over Castath? That he thought there might be cause for real concern, not just a bad winter or something?”

  “No.”

  “It’s not well known. I’ve had to piece it together. He found something underneath the
city that he thinks might be related – I don’t know what, but apparently it’s very worrying. He also found a description that matched the unnatural storms in some ancient archive. It led him to believe the answers will be found at Kultûhm.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Easy Liru. I’m getting there. Biting me won’t help either of us.”

  She looked back without softening. He had never been on the other side of her annoyance, and he was not enjoying it.

  “I think,” he continued, “that Culver has been sent on this trip believing that he will find answers, but the real purpose is to silence him.”

  “And witnesses will not return,” she finished for him.

  Aedan nodded. “I think so. But I have a plan. I spoke to Osric and …” He trailed off.

  Liru wasn’t listening. She folded her arms and stared into the thinning darkness. “I believed that I had escaped from tyranny when I came here, but now I see your people can be as wicked as Lekrans.”

  Aedan felt the words strike him. He wanted to react, but what could he say? “Look, it’s just a hunch. Maybe there’s another explanation.” But not even he believed that.

  She turned and walked into her pony’s stable, hung her lantern, and began to tack.

  Before the others arrived, Aedan made arrangements to have Murn looked after by a stable boy who had overcome some of his fear of the horse, admiration driving him.

  As he turned away, something caught his eye – a figure slipping behind a tree. In an instant the suspicion took shape. He dropped his saddle and ran out through the dim light, reaching the tree just as Malik’s hard visage appeared on the other side.

  Aedan walked around and faced him. “Why are you here?” he asked.

  Malik sneered. “I don’t answer to northerners. And what makes you think my being here has anything to do with you?”