The Power Within: The Chronicles of Hollyglade Wayrender

by Steve Barker

  “Where is your boy King?” he asked in a surprisingly subdued tone.

  Out from the doorway to the main hall of the keep stepped Quentin Wendal.

  “His Grace, King Harford will see you, Your Grace,” he said as he bowed respectfully and turned to the side, motioning with his hand toward the far end of the hall.

  The King nodded to his men, and Lord Birk, War Marshall Greln, and the most of the cohort sheathed their weapons and ascended the steps to the hall. Several dozen Demarians stayed behind to guard the Lorian garrison, and the door to the hall.

  Entering the Main Hall, his face, grey hair, and ornate armour sprayed with the blood of numerous fallen Lorian soldiers, King Dermond Riaghlad marched across the floor of the main hall to the dais, where the child King, Harford Peaksoul sat upon the throne of Loria.

  As King Dermond approached, Harford stood and bowed low,

  “Your Grace.”

  “Your Grace,” King Dermond replied from the edge of the dais. “The City of Magnaville, the Castle Whiterock, are mine. Though skirmishes continue as we speak, you are defeated. Though I have not received word on the wing, I am confident that Westport and the harbour of Magnaville have fallen also. Accept your defeat, and I shall sound the horn of detente, so that no more men need die in a battle already lost.”

  The young King looked to his Master of the Royal Forces, who nodded his reply, and then back to the warrior King before him. Taking his crown from his head, Harford stepped down the stairs of the dais, and held it out with both hands, tears welling in his eyes.

  As Dermond Riaghlad took the golden circlet from the now deposed juvenile ruler, Lord Birk whistled to the troops at the entrance to the hall, waving his hand in the sign to cease the fighting. King Dermond carried the crown of Loria up the steps of the dais, turned, and lowered himself into the ornate throne. As he did so, three blasts of a horn could be heard from outside the walls, followed shortly thereafter by ringing of castle bells. As the sun disappeared below the horizon, King Dermond drew a breath of victory, and Loria became subject to his rule.

  X : Egression

  “dGerrie!” screamed Hollyglade as she turned to see her friend, one she had assumed was dead, now slumped on the floor. She ran across the room cursing herself for not controlling her power, hoping beyond hope that dGerrie was merely unconscious, and had survived the blast. Upon reaching him, she grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him close. To her amazement and relief, he took a breath, though he did not rouse.

  “dGerrie, you have to wake up! Please! I need you!” she cried as she felt the floor begin to shake. Looking around her, she could see cracks in the walls and ceiling, dust falling from above, and could hear the sounds of the structure above her starting to give way.

  “Hollyglade!” came the call from behind her. “I need your help to get out. We need to get down from the tower!”

  She turned to see Jeron pulling himself to his feet, his face dripping with blood from a wound hidden somewhere in his disheveled hair, his arms and legs covered in scrapes, and his clothes torn to rags.

  “The lock. We might be able to break it, then I can help carry him down and out of the tower.”

  Hollyglade looked at dGerrie’s face, which appeared almost peaceful under the fresh scrapes which oozed with blood, and at his arms and legs where she found several fresh bleeding cuts. Her heart pounded with fear and urgency as she lay him down and tore herself away, turning to see how she could help free Jeron.

  She moved quickly to the door of the cage, and examined the lock. She looked up from it as Jeron’s hand met hers through the bars, touching her for the first time, his eyes welling with tears, and his face bearing the depth of his appreciation.

  “Thank you for saving us. I owe you my life.”

  She nodded, and looked back to the lock.

  “I haven’t saved us completely, yet. This looks damaged, so I don’t think I can pick it. We’ll have to break it somehow.” She took a look around her for something strong enough to use to try to smash the lock. Everything was broken and splintered, and there was nothing she could see that would work like a hammer. As she moved away from the cage to dig beneath some of the rubble, the roof let out a loud series of cracking noises, and began to collapse around the hole made by the sorcerer’s forced defenestration.

  “Hollyglade,” shouted Jeron “the sword!” He pointed to the blade that had fallen from dGerrie’s hand when he had entered the room. The tip of the blade was showing from beneath a fallen wardrobe. Hollyglade hopped over an assortment of broken furniture, smashed bowls and jars, her still healing knees, calf muscle, and feet screaming at her as she landed. Upon reaching the wardrobe, she tried to pull the sword out from under it, only to have her fingers slip off the end of the blade.

  “It’s wedged in. I can’t pull it out. I’m going to try to lift the cabinet.”

  She slipped her fingers under the corner of the large and soundly constructed piece of furniture, and began to try to raise it off the sword. It did not move as she let out a long groan while straining against its weight. She looked back to Jeron and shook her head. Looking at dGerrie, she wished he were awake and well enough to help. Then, it struck her. She remembered he usually carried a multitude of blades.

  She quickly stepped back over to him, grabbed him around the ribs, and carefully rolled him over.

  “I’m sorry, Stilt. Please forgive me. I hope this doesn’t hurt too much,” she whispered apologetically. To her relief, she found a second sword, strapped to his back, which had slipped down behind him. Pulling the blade from its sheath, she returned to the cage. Looking at Jeron through the bars, she took a step back. “Back up. I’m going to give it a try,” she said as she wound up to take a swing at the lock.

  With all her strength, Hollyglade brought the sword down on the the lock. The vibration that shot through the weapon into her hands and up her arms, caused her to drop the blade. As it hit the ground with a clatter, more of the roof caved in behind her, and she dropped to the floor covering her head instinctively.

  “We have to get out of here now!” she yelled as she picked up the weapon and wound up for another strike.

  “Wait!” shouted Jeron, “I have an idea. Bring that here.” He motioned for her to come to the door of the cage. “Give me that,” he said, reaching through the bars for the sword. “We’re going to have to do this together.” He placed the tip of the blade in the lock’s shackle and placed both hands on the hilt of the sword. “Grab ahold with me,” he said, holding the blade ready. She nodded, and placed her hands on its crossguard.

  “On three, we drive the blade down through the lock. Understand?”

  “Yes, let’s go,” she replied as she tried to gather her strength.

  “One, two, three!”

  Together, they drove the blade down as hard as they could, each letting out a cry of exertion. As they pushed the blade into the lock’s shackle, it gave way and popped out from the slide holding the door in place. Jeron immediately pushed the door open, and stepped through it. With a deep breath, he grabbed Hollyglade, squeezing her in a deep hug, then letting go and meeting her eyes with his. With a nod to each other, they moved quickly to where dGerrie lay, still unconscious by the door to the laboratory.

  “Help me get him up, I’ll need to stretch him across my back, and we’ll need to lighten the load. Grab whatever blades he has, and strap them to yourself, we may need them later,” Jeron commanded, serious and focused.

  Hollyglade took one of dGerrie’s arms and pulled him up as far as she could. To her amazement, Jeron, having the look of a starving orphan himself, pulled all six and a half feet of her friend onto his back, and began to push himself up to stand.

  With a tremendous groan, almost a yell, Jeron lifted himself to his feet, holding his slumped payload across his shoulders. He amazed even himself, as he found a burst of strength in the midst of the life-threatening crisis.

  “Let’s get out of here, fast!” he said
, straining under the weight as he headed for the stairwell.

  Hollyglade slung the scabbard she had taken from dGerrie over her shoulder, and followed Jeron through what remained of the doorway. Turning right, they headed down the staircase toward the bottom of the tower. Halfway down the first flight of stairs, Hollyglade heard a loud cracking sound, and turned to see the doorway itself begin to slant to one side as the top of the tower started to let go of its attachment.

  “Go!” she shouted, placing a hand on Jeron’s back to steady him as much as she could while urging him downward. They descended a flight of stairs quickly, as the tower crumbled above them, and fragments of the wood and plaster interior walls rained down upon them.

  “The whole tower is going to come down on our heads if we don’t get out of here,” shouted Hollyglade, the fear and desperation in her voice urging Jeron down.

  “If we can make it down before it falls on us, we can get to safety” he shouted in reply as he began to take the stairs two at a time.

  “How? The whole army is out there fighting the Demarians.”

  “Just leave that to me. But we have to get down these stairs quickly.”

  As they descended, the sounds of the tower breaking apart above them grew louder. Jeron pressed his pace downward, doing his best to balance dGerrie’s limp body on his shoulders as he went.

  “Hollyglade, watch out for this trip step,” he called, indicating one of the defensive features of the tower, designed to give defenders an advantage over attackers who would be unfamiliar with the staircases. She hopped down it, groaning as her injured knee and feet dealt with the extra pressure of the landing. Once down that flight of stairs, they reached the lower defensive ring, and Hollyglade took a half second to look out through one of the archer’s loopholes. To her surprise, the fighting had seemed to stop, and some men were directing others to lay down weapons in piles within the courtyard. She could not look on any longer, as Jeron was making his way down the last flight of stairs.

  Catching up to him, she relayed her observations.

  “Jeron, it looks like the fighting has stopped, and one side is rounding up the other.”

  “Which side rounds up the other?” he asked with clear apprehension.

  “I don’t know the Demarian colours, how can I tell?”

  “Lorian forces will have white tunics, maybe some purple will be visible on the white. Demarians will be blue, mostly”

  Hollyglade’s face dropped, and she felt her trepidation rise. She did not want to tell him what she had seen. Sensing her hesitance, he turned to look at her, reading on her face the answer she was afraid to utter.

  “Then the capital is in Demarian hands,” he fretted, shaking his head. They were now only half a flight of stairs from the tower foyer, and could hear the structure above gradually continuing to crumble. Jeron looked at Hollyglade, brought a finger to his lips to signal her to remain quiet, and waved her close to him.

  “There may be guards, or Demarian forces around the corner down there. We will need to get by them, and into a secret set of tunnels, the door to which is hidden behind some woodwork below us.”

  She nodded and drew the sword she had slung on her back. Jeron reached his hand out and grabbed her forearm to stop her from heading down the stairs.

  “No. Take him,” he whispered as he indicated to dGerrie “You may be powerful with magic, but I am trained with the sword, and I know my home. Take him, and I’ll make sure we have a clear path.”

  Hollyglade hesitated for a moment, as the sounds of the tower collapsing drew closer, and the floor began to shake. Jeron set dGerrie down on the stairs, and took the sword from her, drawing one of the daggers from the scabbard as well.

  “Can you lift him? If you can bring him down behind me, it will save us time.” He did not wait for an answer. “We must be swift” he whispered as he grinned, turned down the stairs, and descended silently on his bare feet.

  Hollyglade knelt down, wincing in pain as her knee complained of its still healing wounds. With all the strength she could muster, she pulled at dGerrie’s arms to try to get him onto her shoulders. He groaned as she shoved her back under his chest, and she stopped to look at his face. His eyelids remained shut, but she could see his eyes shifting side to side beneath them. Something caught her attention from below, as the sounds of crumbling stone and mortar continued to draw near from above.

  The sounds of metal crashing against metal, rang through the stairwell in a short series, followed by the sound of a yelp and a body hitting the floor. Hollyglade, pulled the remaining dagger from the scabbard and held it out, straddling dGerrie defensively. She glanced down at her friend to see his eyes begin to flutter, but quickly turned back to the stairs below her as she heard footsteps. Her heart pounded as the footfalls approached, and she tightened her grip on the dagger. She coiled herself to spring forward as she heard the man coming closer, knowing he would come into view any second.

  Hollyglade flinched so intensely that she nearly fell over as she stopped herself mid strike upon seeing the barefooted Jeron round the corner. Then she felt hands on her thighs, and looked down to see dGerrie trying to pull himself up, reaching for a weapon hidden in his jerkin.

  “dGerrie!” she cried “Stop, you’ll hurt yourself. It’s alright, he’s a friend,” she said as she grabbed his shoulders, steadying him.

  “Come on, we have to move!” urged Jeron, in a somewhat hushed, yet forceful tone.

  Hollyglade slid the dagger back into its sheath, and put an arm around dGerrie to balance him.

  “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.” he replied “Who are you?” he asked, looking at Jeron.

  “I’m the one who’s going to get us out of the city, but only if we move quickly. This way.” Jeron signalled for them to follow, and returned back to the foyer.

  Hollyglade braced dGerrie as best she could, and they moved down to the bottom of the tower.

  “Sprout, what happened back there? Where’s that Sorcerer? Who is this man with you?” he asked while flinching and groaning his way down the last few steps.

  “He’s a friend. I’ll introduce you properly later. The Sorcerer’s gone, I’m pretty sure. I’ll explain as much as I can once we’re out of this tower.”

  The shaking in the floor began to increase drastically, and Jeron shouted from around the corner.

  “Hollyglade, help me move this!”

  Jeron was trying to pull a large display cabinet away from the wall beneath the stairs. It was wedged in by the partially collapsed stone work, and he was struggling to move it. Letting go of her friend’s arm, Hollyglade came to Jeron’s side and took hold of the cabinet above where he was pulling on it. Together, they strained against the wedged cabinetry, trying to force it out from under the stairway. It would not come completely away from the wall, as they were only able to create a thin space between the wood and stone.

  “Let me in there,” interrupted dGerrie, as he came to where Hollyglade and Jeron were fighting with the cabinet. He had found a short spear which had been dropped by a guard, and was now aiming to use it to pry the cabinet away from the wall.

  “We’ll do it together,” offered Jeron, grabbing hold of the spear below where dGerrie had his grip on it. “On three.” dGerrie nodded his agreement, and together they applied pressure to the crack.

  After several moments of straining against the stubborn woodwork, it finally shifted about half a foot further away from the wall. As it did, the entire foundation of the tower began to shake violently.

  “That’s going to have to do! Everyone, into the tunnel, now!” shouted Jeron as he squeezed through the crack, pulling on Hollyglade’s wrist as he went. She followed him in while turning back to take ahold of dGerrie’s hand, not letting him fall behind. As dGerrie slid one leg and arm through the crack, and tried to suck in his chest to follow Hollyglade into the tunnel, his jerkin and tunic became caught, and his hand slipped from her grip.

  “dGerrie!” s
he yelled. “Jeron, wait,” she called after him, wrenching her arm free of his grasp.

  “It’s my tunic,” shouted dGerrie, as he tried desperately to force himself through the small opening “it’s caught front and back!”

  Hollyglade grabbed his jerkin and pulled as hard as she could, but could not free him from whatever it was that hooked him in place. Jeron returned and felt around where dGerrie’s front and back sides contacted the wall and the cabinet.

  “Can you slide your hips through?” he asked dGerrie.

  With a grunt, and some strain, dGerrie managed to slide his hips into the tunnel, and stepped through with his back leg, leaving himself nearly horizontal.

  “I still can’t get all the way through!” he shouted, his head, and one shoulder still out in the foyer under the stairs. Hollyglade looked through the opening to see debris raining down just beyond the edge of the staircase, and shouted

  “Hurry! It’s all coming down!”

  Hearing the urgency in her voice, Jeron grabbed dGerrie around the waist

  “dGerrie, put your arms over your head, and try to slip out of your clothes!”

  dGerrie raised his arms up, yelping in pain as his left shoulder injury burned like fire under the strain of simply being lifted. Jeron pulled at his waist, and dGerrie fought his way out of his tunic and jerkin, sliding into the dark tunnel. As he came through into the tunnel, the sounds of the collapsing tower crescendoed with crashes, snapping wood, and falling stone. Dust and small pieces of debris shot through the small crack into the tunnel, covering the group in fragments of the tower walls.

  After several moments, the tunnel became quiet.

  ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

  As the young King stood at the side of the plinth which held his father’s now occupied throne, he bit his lip and began to tremble. He did his best to hide the fear and trepidation which had begun to well up inside him. He rubbed his hands together and looked around for someone else he knew, someone he might trust to help him. Where is that damned sorcerer? He promised that he would stop this. Now what am I supposed to do? he thought to himself, still reeling from the disbelief in what he was seeing as he looked at King Dermond Riaghlad sitting on the throne he had occupied for such a short time.