Eternal Knight

by Matt Heppe

  “All the way to the river.” Hadde said. She thought for a moment, picturing in her mind the shit farmer’s description of the sewers. “If we go this way, it will take us to where the queen’s chambers are located.”

  “How do you know?” Melas demanded.

  “Because the shit-farmer never stopped talking.”

  Maret moaned and grabbed Hadde’s arm. “Ohh, the rats are everywhere.”

  Hadde squeezed her hand. “Go back up, Maret. Melas and I will do this.”

  “No.” She swallowed and stood taller. “I’ll be brave.”

  “Enough. Let’s go.” Melas said.

  Hadde led her companions down the path. After a short distance they came to a bend and she turned left. If she wasn’t confused, they were under the back wall of the Great Keep. Alcoves in the opposite wall confirmed her suspicions. Most of the keep’s privies were set into the outer wall. After passing a leftward branch, they came to another bend.

  “Here,” Hadde said. “One of these should be the one.” She pointed across the sewer. “Maret, is the queen’s chamber the last one on the corner of the keep?”

  “Yes... I think so.”

  “So her privy should be the last?”

  Maret nodded.

  “No,” Melas said. “There’s another. In the guard tower at the corner.”

  “That faces to the back of the Keep,” Maret said. “Not toward the Ost-Oras Gate.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Well, which one?” Hadde asked.

  “That one,” Maret pointed at the second alcove in. “When I first arrived in Sal-Oras the queen’s chamber was in another part of the castle. Her current room was an unused barracks. The privy is... well... a doubler, but one side is sealed up.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I…um. I’ve been there.”

  “Melas?”

  “She might be right.”

  Hadde gave her bow and quiver to Maret. Taking the rope from her shoulder, she crossed to the other side of the sewer. Melas joined her.

  “You’re going up unarmed? Take this back," he said as he unbelted her sword from around his waist.

  “A sword would do me no good while I climb. Send it up on the rope when I reach the top.” Hadde looked into the alcove. What she saw there confirmed Maret’s description. One half of the privy had definitely seen more use than the other. “I’ll climb up first and tie the rope off for you. If all is clear, I’ll tug on the rope and you can follow me up.”

  “I should go first,” Melas said.

  Hadde tied one end of the rope around her waist. “No. Melas, you’ll get your chance to fight. But right now we need stealth.” She turned to Maret. “If all goes well, we’ll lower them all down to you. Keep them calm and quiet until we’re all together.”

  “I will.”

  Ducking under the lip of the shaft, Hadde peered upward into the darkness. The shaft was over a stride wide but narrower across. She entered the shaft, making sure not to step into the partially-filled sump to her right. Gagging, she eased to her left. She would be spared the worst of the foul mess. Bracing her back against one wall and her feet against the opposite, she started upward.

  It didn’t take long for her back to begin to burn with the effort. She ignored the pain and pushed rapidly upward. Breathing through her mouth, she avoided the worst of the stench. It was harder to close her mind against the occasional slick patches her boot—or worse, her hand—touched.

  In the narrow confines of the shaft, the air was thick and cloying. She choked and had to stop. Her body convulsed with the urge to vomit. Fearing she might fall, she pressed herself even harder against the shaft’s walls.

  She had no choice, she had to keep going. She forced her legs back into motion, scrabbling higher. Sweat, or blood, dripped down her back. Her tunic must have been torn open by the rough walls. She had not gone far when the fire in her legs forced her to stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Melas called from below. Hadde closed her eyes. She had to do it. Just think of climbing. Nothing else. Breathing through her mouth, she started up the shaft again. The rough-cut walls dug painfully into her back. She glanced up and made out the shape of the privy hole above.

  “Please, no one use it,” she whispered to herself. She pushed herself faster, her thighs trembling with the effort. She stopped just below the cover and willed herself not to think about the long drop below her. Reaching out with one hand, she grasped the wooden privy hole. It seemed secure. She grabbed it with both hands and tried to pull herself through.

  Too narrow. She cursed. Her right foot slipped and she uttered a startled cry. She clutched the privy lid as her feet scrambled for purchase, her hands sliding on the smooth lid. Pebbles and old masonry fell down the shaft beneath her. A chunk of stone followed. She pressed her foot into the gap it left. With all her strength, she braced herself against the wall.

  Her head swam and her heart pounded. She took a deep breath, but nearly retched from the stench. Placing her hands on the wooden cover above, she lifted the privy’s lid. Slowly, she slid it to one side. Climbing from the shaft, she surveyed the room. The only light came from one narrow, moonlit window. Hadde stepped to the door and bolted it.

  Working quickly, she removed the toiletries resting on the other half of the privy and pulled the lid off. A single stout beam separated the two halves of the privy. After tying the rope to the beam, she gave it a stiff tug. Shadows moved in the lantern light at the base of the shaft.

  Melas yanked the rope and Hadde quickly pulled it up. She untied the sheathed sword and dropped the rope back down the shaft. As Melas started up the rope, she crept to the door and pressed her ear against it. Nothing. From behind her she heard Melas climbing the shaft. She hoped she hadn’t made as much noise as he was making. When he finally reached the top, she helped him from the shaft.

  “Ugh,” she said as she gave him the sword. “You look like… well, shit.”

  He glared at her. “I fell. You should see yourself.”

  “Some rescuers,” she said. She nearly put her fingers to her lips to motion for quiet, but recoiled at the sight of them. She wiped them on her hose and motioned him toward the door. He nodded.

  Beyond the door lay a short corridor. Melas tapped her shoulder and pointed to the next door. “That’s it,” he whispered. “We’re in the right place.”

  "You're certain?"

  "No guard tower has a privy like this. We must be in the Queen's chambers."

  Hadde crept down the hall to the door and listened. The room beyond was silent. She worked the latch and pulled it open. She sucked in her breath as it creaked ajar. Sleeping figures lay curled under blankets on rugs surrounding a large bed. The maidens. Another figure slept in the bed. Hadde’s gaze swept the room again. No guards. Or none she could see. Two doors led from the room.

  Opening the door a little wider, she crept to the nearest sleeper and gently shook her awake. “Tira, it’s me, Hadde,” she whispered.

  The maiden woke slowly at first and then choked and coughed. She looked at Hadde in confusion. “Oh, foul! What’s that—“

  “Shhh, don’t say anything.” Hadde glanced around the room to see if anyone else had awakened. “Are there any guards?”

  Tira nodded and pointed toward one of the doors. “Hadde, what—”

  “Quiet. We’re getting you out of here. Wake the other maidens and lead them to the privy. Melas is here and will help you escape. You understand?” The maiden nodded and pulled herself from her blankets.

  Hadde crept to the bed. The queen was deep asleep. She resisted Hadde’s gentle attempt at getting her up. “Your Highness!” she whispered. Hadde glanced around the room. There were at most a dozen hostages. Queen Ilana yawned, looked at Hadde, and bolted upright in bed.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice a yell in the silent chamber.

  Hadde clamped her hand over the queen’s mouth, not caring how filthy it was. Ilana angrily g
rabbed it and tried to pull free, but Hadde shoved her back and pinned her to a pillow. Resisting the urge to choke the pampered royal, Hadde leaned close and whispered, “I’m helping you escape. Where is Prince Handrin?”

  Hadde slowly pulled her hand from the queen’s mouth. Ilana glared at her. “Where are the others? Where is Boradin?”

  A whisper at least, Hadde thought. “The other rescuer is down the hall.”

  “One other? Just you and one other?”

  “Your Highness, there’s little time. We must escape before the guards are alerted. Where’s your son?” The queen stared for a moment and then pointed. “In the next room,” she said. “But there’s one of those Messengers about. He was with Handrin earlier.”

  “Take the girls down the hall, Your Highness. A knight is waiting and he will help you escape. I’ll get Prince Handrin and join you in a moment.” As the queen nodded, Hadde walked to the door. The girls didn’t speak, but they still made too much noise for Hadde to be able to hear anything behind the door. She put her hand on the latch when a thump behind her made her turn.

  The maidens were getting dressed. “No!” Hadde hissed. “You must go now. Your night shifts are enough.” She took two of them by their arms and propelled them toward the door. “Put on shoes, but that’s all. There’s no time.”

  “They can’t go out half-naked,” Ilana objected.

  “They’ll go out half-naked or they’ll die. Is modesty worth that price?”

  Ilana aimed a glare at Hadde and then snapped, “Listen to her! Hurry, Maidens.”

  Hadde nodded her thanks to the queen. At least she had come to her senses. Hadde turned back to the door as the dozen girls shuffled down the hall. She had just put her hand on the handle when she heard a muffled shout from the privy. She pushed her way down the crowded hall.

  “I’ll not go down there,” a maiden said to Melas. The others stared down the dark hole with horrified expressions, their hands crossed over their bosoms.

  “You have to,” Melas pleaded. “There’s no other way.”

  “No!”

  “Shhhh!” Hadde hissed as she entered the room.

  “This is the rescue?” the queen demanded, entering the cramped room.

  “It’s this or nothing.”

  “I’m not going,” one of the girls said, her voice too loud in the small room.

  “There’s no other rescue, Your Highness. This is your only chance.” Girls shook their heads as they backed away from the shaft. The queen glared at Hadde.

  Hadde took Ilana by the elbow and led her into the hall. “Your Highness, please. If you go first, the maidens will follow your courage. Please.”

  “I’m the Queen of Salador. Not some filthy commoner.”

  “The girls need you.”

  “Where are the Knights of the House? Where’s my husband?”

  “There’s no time for this!” Hadde snapped. “You do this or you die. You do this or your son dies!”

  Ilana glared at Hadde. “I’ll do it. But I’ll not forget this.”

  “None of us will.”

  “Get my son!” Ilana snapped.

  Hadde made her way through the queen’s bedroom to the door to Handrin’s chamber. She listened, but heard nothing. Peering into the chamber beyond, she saw the prince’s small form lying on a sofa wrapped in blankets. She quickly padded to him and shook him awake.

  “Prince Handrin, it’s me, Hadde of Landomere.”

  The boy looked at her in surprise. Hadde pulled his blanket from him. “Come on, Prince, we’re leaving.”

  “What? Why? You stink.”

  “I know. We’re going to see your father, but we have to leave right now.”

  “Sir Gredoc will be angry.”

  They both looked up at the sound of an opening door. Hadde found herself staring into the silver face of Jenae’s murderer. She stepped between the prince and the eternal. “Handrin, run!”

  Gredoc swept his sword from its sheath as he sprang forward. But instead of attacking Hadde, he moved to cut off Handrin’s flight. Hadde snatched up a footstool and hurled it at Gredoc. The eternal struck it from the air with his sword and leaped for Handrin.

  “Wind!” the boy shouted. A blast of air caught his blanket and sent it billowing over the knight’s head.

  “Hadde! Run!” Handrin yelled. She scrambled past the eternal and followed the prince into the next room. Gredoc leapt after them. Hadde ducked a slash at her head, but before she could recover, Gredoc shouldered her aside and she tumbled to the floor. Rolling, she lashed out with her foot and tripped the knight as he leapt past.

  He crashed to the floor. “Dromost take you!” Gredoc cursed as he rose.

  “Handrin! Into the privy!” Hadde shouted. Gredoc raised his sword and turned toward Hadde. Before he could swing, a flash of fire engulfed his face. Crying out, he fell back.

  “Go!” Hadde yelled. As the prince turned and fled, Melas dashed into the room. Crying out, “Jenae!” he thrust his sword deep into Gredoc’s chest. Melas yanked the blade free as the eternal toppled backwards. Silver blood coated the squire’s blade.

  White-clad Returnists rushed into the room. “Get out.” Melas shouted, waving Hadde to the hall behind him. He struck down the first Returnist to charge him and parried another’s blow. A vicious counter struck the Returnist’s arm off at the elbow. Blood sprayed as the man stared at the stump in shock.

  Hadde snatched up a pillow and threw it at a Returnist. It burst in a shower of white feathers as he chopped it in half. Hadde snatched Gredoc’s sword from where it lay on the floor. A few strides away, the eternal struggled to his hands and knees. She couldn't help but stare for a moment. No mortal could have survived Melas’s thrust.

  More Returnists pushed into the room. “I’ll hold them here,” Melas said as he slashed at a Returnist.

  “Not here. Hold them below!”

  “You first.”

  Hadde ran from the room with Melas close behind. He slammed the hallway door closed and bolted it. A heavy blow crashed against the door as they ran to the privy. A second blow broke the bolt. Hadde glanced behind to see a Returnist stumble into the hall.

  “Hold the door,” Hadde said as they ran into the privy. “The bolt won't keep them out.” Tira and Handrin stared at Hadde as she barged into the room, but she couldn't spare them more than a glance.

  “Got it,” Melas said. He bolted the door and then pressed his full weight against it.

  “Why are they still here?” Hadde asked. She added her weight to Melas’s.

  “There was no time to get them out,” he replied. “I had to come and help you.”

  “Tira, tie the rope around the prince's chest,” Hadde ordered. Rapid footfalls approached and the door shuddered in its hinges. “Hold on, Melas,” she said as another blow struck the door.

  “Wedge it shut with those boards," Melas said. “I can hold it.”

  “Are you done, Tira?” Hadde asked as she jammed the door shut.

  “I'm done,” Tira said. “I hope I tied it well enough.”

  Hadde checked the knot. "Good—good enough.” She took the prince by the shoulders and stared him in the face. “We're going to lower you down. Your mother is waiting for you. Can you be brave?”

  He glanced into the privy shaft. Hadde saw the fear in his eyes. But he nodded and said, “I can do it.”

  Hadde helped him to the edge and then lowered him into the pit. “Hurry, Hadde,” Melas called. Tira yelped in fright as the door shuddered under an impact.

  “I am—I am,” Hadde replied. Her shoulders soon burned with the effort.

  Wood splintered as an axe head appeared through the door. Melas lunged forward and thrust his sword through the gap. There was a surprised shout from outside and he quickly withdrew the blade.

  The rope went slack. “He's down,” Maret's voice echoed up the shaft. As fast as she could, Hadde drew the rope up.

  “The Messenger,” someone shouted from outside. A blow hit the do
or and it nearly shattered. Melas stepped back with his sword held ready.

  Hadde looped the rope around the beam sitting across the open privy shaft before tying it around Tira. “Hurry, Hadde!” Tira said, clearly more terrified by the enemy at the door than the shaft blow.

  “Go!” This time Hadde let the rope run through her hands, the loop around the beam slowing Tira's descent. Even so, the heat soon became unbearable, forcing Hadde to lower Tira hand over hand.

  Boards flew into the room as the top of the door collapsed. Melas leapt forward, stabbing at the enemy outside.

  “She’s off!” Hadde called.

  “Slide down. I'll follow,” he said between thrusts.

  Hadde shoved Gredoc's sword through her belt and slid down the shaft. The rope burned her as she descended, but she had no choice but to ignore the pain. Silhouettes moved in the darkness above and the rope jerked as Melas followed her. She hit the bottom and climbed onto the sewer path. The maidens, Ilana, and Handrin huddled together nearby. Maret stood near the shaft holding her lantern.

  “Lead them that way, Maret,” Hadde ordered. “I’ll be with you soon.”

  “I don’t know the way.”

  “Take the first right. I’ll catch up.” Hadde belted Belor's bow case around her waist. She took up Gredoc's sword and held it in both hands as Melas emerged from the shaft.

  Slowly, too slowly, the queen and the maidens moved down the path. “Come quickly, Hadde.” Maret said.

  “We're with you,” Hadde said.

  The rope jerked and twitched behind Melas. “They’re coming,” he said.

  “Let's go, Melas,” Hadde said. “We have to protect the maidens.”

  “No. Your only hope is if I hold them here. If the Returnists get into the sewers, you’ll never escape.”

  “I’ll stay with you.” Hadde said.

  “Get out!” Melas shouted. “Shut up and get out!”

  “I cannot leave you here.” An image of Captain Palen being pulled from his horse by the Returnist mob flashed through her mind. She glanced at the retreating maidens.

  “Leave me. This is my place. This is what I want.” Torchlight grew brighter in the privy shaft. “Go!” He raised his sword as if to strike her.