by I K Spencer
"Where is your elf now?" Urvena replied angrily but he thought he saw a flicker of doubt. "Cidrl wields great power as you well know. Nothing will stand against him!"
"They know all about Cidrl's power and his little plan. Do you think they will not be ready?" He tried to sound convincing; the first part at least, was true. "Urvena," he pleaded, "at least think about it. We could escape during the night. I could see you safely back to the realm and away from the terrible events that will take place here." He tried to make the lie sound convincing.
"You are a fool!" Urvena replied with fresh anger and stormed off.
Anthen saw little chance she would return but he had seen a flicker of doubt. It seemed she was not loyal to the murderous traitor above all else.
He spent the cold night fastened securely to the tree. He dozed periodically and worked at his ropes the rest of the time but they did not budge. He guessed that Cidrl probably had seen to them personally. At one point he sensed a presence behind him and smelled a faint, sweet odor. A moment later he heard movement in the woods nearby and wondered if the draugen were about. He tensed at the rustling noises but thankfully, with a fire nearby, whatever caused the sound did not come any closer.
At dawn his captors roused and, to Anthen's dismay, started to break camp. A short time later he saw Cidrl approaching and fought to clear from his mind the strong feelings of fear and anger that the sight of the man provoked.
"Good morning Anthen," Cidrl said cheerfully, as if they were meeting for breakfast back at his estate and none of the events since that time had transpired. He shook his head sympathetically as he looked the young guardsman over. "I am sorry about keeping you bound through the night son but I did not want to tie up the half-dozen sentries it would take to contain a guardsman. I hope it was not too unpleasant for you."
Cidrl's light manner suggested his captive were an inconvenienced houseguest and not his mortal enemy. Anthen felt the pleasant sensation of the charming man's smooth voice and forced himself to stay focused.
"You won't succeed," the younger guardsman stated flatly, trying to take control of their discourse.
Cidrl chuckled. "Ah yes. Urvena mentioned your warning. I credit you Anthen; manipulation was not your strong point. I see you have grown."
"It is the truth," Anthen replied, trying to be as nonchalant as the master but not faring as well. "You think the elf was there by chance?"
"Kyreial? Anthen I know all about Kyreial and I know the all-seeing ones know of me. Knowledge alone is impotent, however."
The older guardsman's clothing was plain and sturdy but of high quality. He did not look like a man who had endured an arduous and lengthy journey.
"They will never let you have that kind of power," Anthen stated with authority but Cidrl just raised his hand as though quieting a child.
"Do not waste your breath my friend. We both know you have little understanding of such things, as do most guardsmen I fear. Anthen I am here to talk about your fate."
Cidrl brushed the top of a rock and seated himself, gracefully folding his massive frame.
"I must thank you," Cidrl continued, smiling. "You have made what promised to be an uneventful and boring trip quite entertaining."
"You did not seem entertained by our escape from Greyrock." Anthen saw a flicker of anger pass through Cidrl's face.
"True. Alas, the Dolonarian bureaucracy always puts me in a foul mood. But after that it was intriguing, like a well-played chess match. You have proven far more resourceful than I ever imagined Anthen. You would have made a legendary guardsman in another time. How did you break the spell by the way?"
The question came so unexpectedly and was phrased so innocently that Anthen almost answered it but caught himself in time. Instead he posed his own query. "What happens now?"
Cidrl gestured toward the busy camp. "As you see, we are readying to depart. We enter the caves and every life becomes entrusted to me." Cidrl stood again and looked down at the bound guardsman from his great height. "I haven't decided your ultimate fate yet Anthen. I don't need you and should kill you but I am fond of you son. You are entertaining and besides, there are still secrets you have yet to share with me." An unsettling half-smile formed on the traitor's lips as he continued. "You know Anthen, you cannot completely break free from my spell. As you may have realized during your journey, I can still reach out to you, even from afar." Cidrl chuckled mirthlessly. "Trust that we will speak again, soon."
Anthen watched the confident traitor stroll back towards the center of camp. He felt a pang of fear at the gleam in the older man's eyes when he promised they would speak again, knowing the fallen guardsman had spoken the truth; he had known, deep down, that somehow the spell’s taint was still upon him.
A short time later, a trio of hard-eyed Dolonarians approached him. Working silently and roughly, they carefully undid his hands and manacled them together, then followed suit with his feet. They cut the ropes around his torso and pulled him violently to his feet with a tether tied around his neck.
He tried to work on them, telling them that Cidrl would betray them, but they only beat him and gagged him when he persisted. He had just slain a few of their comrades and he didn't expect much but had to make an attempt.
He was led to the center of camp and loaded with a heavy pack, then dealt yet another blow as the sneering Dolkes took charge of the lead rope around his neck. He anticipated Dolkes’ first move and got a manacled hand beneath the rope just as Dolkes yanked the lead ferociously with enough strength to break his neck; evidently the wound from the guardsman's quarrel at Greyrock had healed quite well. Anthen jerked forward and fell to his knees but managed to keep the noose from cutting off his wind.
"Well, well. Jamen's pawn, back in the fold." Dolkes laughed but there was only hatred in his eyes, not surprising after being both beaten and shot by the apprentice guardsman.
Anthen ignored the insult; angering the man further would serve no purpose.
"The guardsman has nothing to say now does he?" Dolkes chided.
"Move out!" Cidrl's voice boomed, shutting off further abuse from Dolkes for the moment.
A column quickly formed behind Cidrl and Anthen could see that few were eager to be at the tail. They lit torches and followed Cidrl, with Urvena at his side, into the dim entrance. He adjusted the heavy pack to relieve his wounded shoulder and followed Dolkes inside, glancing up at the ancient letters carved in the rock above the entrance.
He saw fear in every member of the party, except Cidrl and his spellbound guardsmen, as they left the last vestiges of daylight from the entrance behind. He was thankful for their anxiety for two reasons, fear of the cave's dreaded inhabitants made them less vigilant toward him and it made Dolkes forget his anger.
The main tunnel was spacious at the beginning but continuously decreased in size until barely room for three abreast and Cidrl, the tallest in the party, had to stoop most of the time. They came across many junctions and he watched Dolkes shy away from the black openings as they passed. They kept to the main tunnel for some time before turning into a branching cave to the left. He guessed they would soon have lost all track of time very quickly in the endless darkness but he noted that Cidrl carried an hourglass.
Anthen tried to memorize their path but that soon became impossible. The party passed countless junctions with nothing to distinguish one from the next. Cidrl, he noted, seemed to choose their path without hesitation, referring to a small scroll occasionally. He caught a glimpse of the writing on the scroll but it was meaningless to him, coded somehow. Dolkes caught him looking and he received a sharp blow on his wounded shoulder for the effort.
The scroll gave him an idea, though. If he could grab and destroy the coded map, Cidrl might be unable to navigate the labyrinth and his terrible plan would fail. Anthen knew it meant a quick death for him but that would be preferable to how the others would die. Without the map, they would wander until they ran out of torches, then fall victim to the draugen. His
only remaining reason for living was to stop the traitor, so the fact that destroying the scroll would lead to his immediate death offered no hindrance at all.
He furtively watched Cidrl's hourglass and noted six turns before they stopped for a brief rest; thus he guessed it near midday outside. In his weakened condition the leisurely march left the wounded guardsman exhausted and sweating profusely, though a cold, damp feel permeated the caves. During the break he lay still with his eyes closed, trying to conserve what strength he had, and he hungrily ate the few scraps of food tossed to the ground for him, his first meal since Urvena's feeding the night before.
Shortly after the meager meal, Anthen became aware that they were no longer alone. He sensed the small party had been completely surrounded and soon after, the same sweet odor from the night before confirmed his guess. Now, however, the odor seemed much stronger and the sickly sweetness made his stomach lurch.
"What is that stench?" Dolkes complained, covering his nose and mouth.
Others echoed the question and waited to see if any could answer.
"Draugen," Anthen uttered, trying to mimic the strange intonation he had heard Kyreial use. All eyes turned to him in alarm, except Cidrl, who seemed to enjoy the fear created by Anthen's ominous tone. "They gather as carrion-eaters, waiting for our torches to die," he continued.
"Shut your hole! You speak fantasy!" Dolkes yelped and delivered a kick to Anthen's wounded shoulder.
The guardsman saw the slow move coming and avoided most of the force but it stung nevertheless.
"No, our young friend speaks the truth," Cidrl said quietly, appraising the younger guardsman with his eyes and silencing the others. "Those of you who have endured a particularly bloody battlefield will recognize the similarity between that odor and this. It is the smell of blood."
The battle-hardened Dolonarians exchanged fearful looks and all, except for the oblivious guardsmen under Cidrl's control, cast nervous glances toward the blackness just beyond the reach of their torches.
When they started again, Anthen slipped ahead of Dolkes, now too concerned about the nearby draugen to notice or care. Slowly, over the next few hours, the guardsman inched closer and closer to Cidrl. Whenever Cidrl paused, Anthen tried to take an extra step. Dolkes either didn't notice or probably also wanted to move to the head of the column, fearful of the unseen figures shadowing them.
Finally, he was within a few feet of the leader, with only Vlaednyk and Urvena in between. He readied himself for attempt when Cidrl raised his arm to halt the party. He watched from the corner of his eye as Cidrl reached into his tunic and lunged forward as the hand withdrew, holding the scroll.
With amazing quickness for a man in his condition, Anthen snatched the scroll from Cidrl and held it to Vlaednyk's torch before the man could react. The flimsy, dry parchment was consumed in an instant flash of bright flame. The captors were caught by surprise and stunned by the realization of what had just happened, so no one moved for a few moments. Vlaednyk recovered first, roaring as he knocked Anthen backward with his heavy fist before unsheathing his sword. Dolkes scrambled for the lost tether and yanked Anthen to his knees.
"Stay!" Cidrl bellowed and put his arm on Vlaednyk, who was about to run Anthen through.
Anthen watched the traitor's face, longing to see the fury he desperately hoped his action would provoke if it had successfully thwarted Cidrl's quest. The older guardsman met his gaze but his mind was obviously occupied considering the situation. His hope began to dwindle for the monster seemed anything but upset.
"Are ... we lost?" Urvena asked fearfully.
"What? No of course not."
Cidrl absently pulled another scroll from his tunic and waved it in the air. Anthen's head drooped in defeat. With no change in their situation, the younger guardsman knew that his former master must be considering his fate.
"Finish him," growled Vlaednyk, guessing similarly at the cause of Cidrl's musing. "He is too dangerous to have around."
Cidrl's eyes passed over the Dolonarian leader quickly, then returned to his captive. Anthen could see that the older guardsman was perplexed by the decision but after a few minutes he shook his head, with more apparent disappointment than the younger guardsman had ever seen.
"I am sorry Anthen. I do so wish to spend more time with you. You have not shared your side of this tale as of yet and I am keenly interested in that but truth be told, I do not know when I will have the time to coax it out of you." The gleam in the man's dark eyes brought fear to even his allies' faces. "I tell you what. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement of value to both of us." His broad smile returned, as though talking of a profitable business venture. "If you tell me what I wish to know, then I promise you a quick death."
"We do not have time for torture," Vlaednyk interrupted.
"We will not be carrying out the torture." Cidrl's voice carried a tone of warning as he glanced at the field marshal. His smile returned as he looked back toward Anthen. "If you choose not to cooperate son, you will be left behind for those vile creatures shadowing us."
Urvena gasped and a burst of nervous laughter erupted from Dolkes. Cidrl gestured for Anthen to be lifted to his feet.
"This won't take long. I have but a few questions. You might guess the first. How did you break the spell?"
Anthen gazed at the man without expression, suppressing the hatred, fear and agony that filled him. He was defeated but in no way would he let the traitor have this small victory.
"Do you know what they will do to you Anthen? Of course this cannot be proven but according to legend, the draugen may keep their victims alive for weeks or even months. Feeding on them over and over again, careful not to take too much blood so that their victims do not die, immediately. Their captives are said to endure many of these painful and wretched feedings, slowly weakening over time. Well Anthen?"
Anthen showed no sign that he was even listening.
"One more chance young friend. Perhaps an easier question to start. What caused Jamen to suspect me?"
Anthen remained silent and he saw color start to rise in the traitor's face. Cidrl was accustomed to getting his way and Anthen guessed that he didn’t like not having the time to learn all the apprentice knew.
"Do not be a fool Anthen!" Cidrl's charming exterior was gone, exposing the brutal fury it concealed. "This information is of no import. I am merely curious. Save yourself from this needless agonizing death!" The words were eloquent but the tone, one of barely contained rage.
"Your death will be far worse than mine," the younger guardsman replied coolly, steady before the other man's rising fury.
"I have given you too much credit I fear! I would not expect such folly from a guardsman." The traitor's voice was high and strained.
"And I have given you too much credit if you seriously think any guardsman would make such a choice." Anthen laughed derisively. "I do know the question all will be asking after you are defeated. The important question is how such an obvious madman slipped through the academy unnoticed."
Cidrl's powerful hand shot out and gripped Anthen's throat. Anthen brought his manacled hands up hard and broke the strangle hold. He twisted the chain around Cidrl's wrist and pulled the man forward, then grabbed for the dagger at the larger man's belt. Anthen thrust the blade forward but the other man was just able to avoid the weapon. The others fell upon Anthen and disarmed him.
"Very well!" Cidrl tried to assume his former charm but Anthen could see it was a struggle. "You have brought me entertainment but this was your final performance. You no longer have any use to me except to enjoy the manner of your death. Your death will be slow torture Anthen but you will also know that you will die a complete failure."
Dolonarians took Anthen’s pack and bound his wrists securely behind his back. Cidrl stood by, watching the proceedings with a strained smile. Though he gave no sign, Anthen's spirit was crushed. He had failed and this evil monster, with no one left to stop him, would no doubt triumph. He tried despera
tely to clear his mind but he was paralyzed with fear and rage. He knew he should try to persuade the traitor to keep him alive but he could not find the words, a final insult for he knew, should the roles be reversed, Cidrl's tongue would be wagging to the end. He couldn't help but wonder if the other had proven the better man. Cidrl lingered and was the last to leave, as if hoping Anthen would try to plead for his life but he could only muster a defiant stare of hatred. Cidrl shrugged and turned away with a chuckle. Anthen watched the hated form depart, then felt the darkness close in around him as the light quickly faded to complete black.
The guardsman's training forced him into action, though the silent darkness terrified him. He rolled until he reached the cave wall, then pushed himself along it, searching with his hands for an edge sharp enough to cut through the ropes. He froze for a moment when he sensed someone or something coming, then forced himself to move; the draugen would easily find him whether he made noise or not.
He found a sharp rock and furiously worked the ropes back and forth over it, ignoring the searing pain it brought to his wounded shoulder. He felt the terrible draugen gathered all around him and frantically sawed, though he knew it would take hours. He strained to see the approaching shapes in the darkness but saw only utter blackness.
He felt something very near and shot his legs out with all his strength. He felt contact with a small, fleshy form and heard the sound of bones snapping. A moment later he saw a flash of light as a club landed hard against the side of his head, then he saw no more.
********
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Anthen awoke to find himself bound. He stifled a useless cry for help when he remembered his fate, with no rescue possible. Faced with that fact and the agonizing death that awaited him, the usually-poised guardsman broke down. Afraid to cry out, Anthen silently screamed and flailed wildly at his bonds, mindless of the terrible pain it caused in his wounded shoulder. The terrified warrior pulled against the ropes with all his strength, then jerked the sturdy tethers until he could no longer move his aching arms and legs. He lay there, crying silent tears, until he felt empty and numb.
