by Mark Bowsher
‘Everything!’ said the prisoner. ‘It’s chaos! COME ON!’
Krish took a step forward and then hesitated. A dark powder covered the prisoner’s skin. It covered all of them.
‘It is not the powder the bird Gulwin spreads!’ said the prisoner in answer to the question in Krish’s eyes. ‘We have to wear it to grip one another. The eastern wall was covered in the powder Gulwin is spreading. The wall began to fall. Most escaped although some fell to their deaths.’
A dull, sinking sensation in Krish’s stomach. This was his scheme and some had already perished thanks to his actions.
‘COME ON!’ said the lead prisoner.
Krish hugged the waist of the prisoner, the mix of sweat and powder cutting into his face. How did they put up with this all day long? The lead prisoner gripped his legs firmly. He barked a command and this was echoed by others up the glistening line of captives dangling down the shaft.
‘The powder hit some of us,’ continued the lead prisoner as they rose through the shaft. ‘But everyone started to climb down rather than risk falling. The palace! It is vanishing!’
Krish could see some of the prisoners above flinching. The powder was starting take effect but none had a free hand to scratch with. They didn’t have long. The prisoners gripped tightly to each other but he could tell that their strength was waning. They were used to being part of whole walls, not holding a long line of inmates.
Krish kept his eyes fixed on the mouth of the well as it grew larger and larger. His determination kept his lips shut tightly over his teeth as he breathed steadily through his nose, his eyes unblinking as the air rushed over them. There was a hammering in his chest and in the chest of the prisoner he clung to as their hearts beat almost in time with each other with fear and anticipation.
‘You ready for this?’ said Balthrir over the shouts and screams from the chamber above that they were about to burst into.
Krish had no idea. He could never be ready for this and in truth he hadn’t a clue what they would have to face in the throne room. He didn’t get a chance to consider this any further as he heard a voice close to the mouth of the well crying out…
‘CUT THEM DOWN! CUT THEM DOWN!’
The prisoners started shouting at those farther up to heave faster but no one could hear over the cacophony of screaming that followed. A mighty thud. Krish felt it. It carried through the line of prisoners and shook the body of the man he held on to. His mind was wild with panic. THUD. THUD. THUD. He felt every terrible stroke shake him and the sound of screaming felt as if it would rip him in two – he felt it – he felt the sound collide with him, the shrieking – desperate, primal screams pummelling his eardrums as if they would break, as if they would physically break – and then the blood, the warm blood pouring down the body he gripped, the man’s breath racing through his hyperventilating form the ribs expanding and contracting and the fury of everything around him assaulting all his senses and then he was practically deaf with the cries of dying men and women blood across the man’s body he couldn’t grip – he couldn’t grip! – and then they were falling – falling into blackness!
Krish clawed and clawed at dank air. His nails dug into sodden earth. He gripped tightly, somehow, holding on with both hands. A shape fell towards him. A prisoner had lost his grip. As the inmate fell past him he grabbed at the satchel, the seams of the strap tore a little, and Krish’s hands were ripped from the wall, clods of earth still in his grasp as he fell. He plummeted, light from the mouth of the shaft filling his vision as he fell backwards. The prisoner holding on to his satchel came to a sudden halt and Krish shot past him. Krish jolted to a stop. He looked up and saw that the prisoner had grabbed hold of the earthen wall. Krish hung from the strap of the satchel. He dug into the earth of the shaft with his free hand just as the strap gave way. He placed the strap in his mouth to keep hold of the satchel. For a moment he feared the Myrthali would spill down to the bottom of the well. For a moment he was tempted just to dive a hand into the bag of sand and disappear…
No. He looked up. A circle of light filled his vision. They were near the top. A number of prisoners had survived the attempt to cut the whole line of inmates down.
‘BAL-FEAR!’ he cried, the bag strap in his mouth muffling his voice.
‘KRISH!’ He saw her: she was right at the top, her hands gripping the floor of the throne room. ‘We’re almost there!’
Krish looked up at the mouth of the shaft. Dazzling daylight poured through. Dust was flying in the low light. He could see silhouettes. Figures with swords fighting furiously. He also saw one wall of the palace still standing but wobbling precariously.
‘BALTHRIR!’
Balthrir was struck dumb with shock, almost wonder. Her staff was being lowered to her. She smiled, grabbed hold of it and was pulled up. Krish knew the voice – it was Nboosa. Balthrir turned and lowered her staff towards Krish. He grabbed hold and Balthrir hoisted him up. Krish bit into the strap of the satchel, determined not to let it drop. He could reach the mouth of the shaft. He hauled himself up and into the light.
All about him on this patch of ground where the palace once stood was chaos. One wall remained but it was wavering badly. Freed prisoners were shouting encouragement for the inmates in the wall to lower themselves down. Guards pointed spears at the wall threateningly. Those in the wall itself were crying out in frustration – they appeared torn. Should they rebel or obey the guards? Krish looked around and saw similar scenarios everywhere but on a smaller scale. The circle of the outer wall of the palace was still just about discernible from the small number of prisoners who hadn’t been brave enough to lower themselves to the ground yet.
Prisoners and nobles and guards abandoning their posts ran in every direction. The late King’s wives and husbands were fleeing, carrying as much gold and jewels as they could carry. On the far side of what was left of the chamber, just next to the throne, Krish saw a twist of bodies engaged in the biggest brawl he’d ever witnessed. Several hundred figures, mostly nobles although a few were prisoners or common citizens, were fighting it out. Fists and swords and spears hit flesh. Cries of pain. Bodies fell but still the conflict continued. Krish could see two groups of guards advancing on the fight and he also saw Eshter swiping her staff left and right just above the ground several metres away from the action. Each swipe coincided with a number of guards or participants in the fight being knocked off their feet.
Krish also noticed that he and Balthrir were completely exposed on the flat plain that had made a perfect ground floor for the palace. But no one was looking their way across the patch of dirt that had once been the throne room. He could see the town and the mountains beyond in the low light of the early day, but all those engaged in the fight weren’t even looking in their direction.
Krish hastily tore a small hole in one side of satchel, just below where the strap had been broken, pulled the end of the broken strap through, tied it in a knot and threw the bag over his shoulder.
‘Where are they?!’ Balthrir was crying out. ‘Nboosa! Where are they?!’ Balthrir was helping a number of prisoners climbing up the shaft to reach the surface. She gritted her teeth as she pointed the staff at their midriffs, using her powers to drag them a little way further up until someone could reach down and pull them up. She groaned, clearly in considerable pain. She could not simply drag someone out of the well using magic alone – she had to employ as much of her own strength as possible for the spell to work.
Nboosa ran up to Balthrir and helped pull one of the prisoners up. And Krish saw another familiar face accompanying her. Tol – the innkeeper at the Broken Scythe with his large, knobbly, ginger-root-shaped nose and grey whiskers. He held a large plank of wood, which Krish couldn’t help noticing had the odd bloodstain on it.
‘We can’t find them!’ said Nboosa to Balthrir.
‘What?!’ said Balthrir, standing up straight. ‘We have to find them! We have—’
‘Balthrir!’ barked Krish. He could do it.
He could keep calm and get this whole mess sorted out. He’d come this far and he could see it to the end. Balthrir turned and looked at him. ‘They’ll be dead for sure if we don’t get the crown before anyone else!’
Tol turned to look at Krish and raised his eyebrows in his usual understated manner.
‘Oh, it’s you!’ said Tol. ‘My young friend whose handwritin’s better than ’is dustin’ and sweepin’ skills! Gonna ’ave to charge extra for the room belonging to the boy ’oo made a king bow before ’im after this! If there is an “after this”, of course.’
‘Er, yeah,’ said Krish. ‘Sure.’
‘As for the crown – ha!’ said Tol. ‘We get the ’ell out of ’ere – that’s the only plan there is!’
Krish turned to Nboosa hopefully. ‘What is happening over there?’ He indicated the fight. ‘Do you know?’
‘A battle for the crown. What did you expect?’ Nboosa continued, sensing that Krish needed to know more. ‘R’ghir killed Hesh and is using both their guard regiments to clear the nobles and any other citizen who’s trying to claim the crown. Vira is using both her own guards and Eshter to clear the way. R’ghir’s watching Elwynt closely. Elwynt is waiting. Biding his time.’
‘’Opin’ the others’ll wipe ’emselves out so ’e can stroll in and nab the crown, no doubt!’ Tol chipped in, scratching his nose with the less bloody end of the plank.
‘Well, we need to get to the crown.’ Nboosa and Tol were taken aback by Krish’s bold statement.
‘Yer weren’t no good at sweepin’ the floors!’ said Tol. ‘What makes yer think yer’ll be any good at bein’ in charge o’ thousands o’ people?’
‘Not me…’ Instead of finishing his sentence, Krish looked over at Balthrir.
‘You?!’ said Nboosa, her face a combination of horror and awe. ‘You don’t even turn up to class and you want to be queen?’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Balthrir impatiently. ‘Can we just get on with this nabbin’ the crown malarkey and find my parents?!’
Shouting and screams from the other side of the throne room. They turned to see the two guard squads closing in on one another. Bodies were being flung aside from the main scrum of the fight. They fell bloodied, crumpled and inanimate. Soon there would be very few people left to fight over the crown. And above the scrum, Krish saw the solitary wall teetering. The screaming, desperate faces of women and men in the wall as it arched towards the ground. It was too late for them to climb down now. They had minutes left.
‘Where’s Gulwin?’ said Krish to Balthrir, Tol and Nboosa. ‘Does he have any itching powder left?’ Nboosa and Tol looked blank. Krish turned to some of the prisoners lying near the mouth of the well who had been too exhausted to run. ‘The bird Gulwin, where is he?’ Nobody responded. ‘We need to find him! He needs to drop the last of the itching powder on the fight – we may be able to seize the crown while everyone is scratching themselves silly!’ Krish was greeted with blank looks. He stared back at the gradually collapsing wall and made a quick decision. ‘Balthrir…’
‘What?!’ said Balthrir, agitated to the point of hysteria. ‘I don’t ’ave some ’andy bird-summonin’ spell if that’s what y’er after!’
‘You go to the left of the fight,’ he pointed at the conflict. ‘And Tol, Nboosa, IN FACT ANYONE WHO FANCIES STOPPING SOME OTHER MANIAC SITTING ON THE THRONE!’ He shouted the last bit as loud as he could to the prisoners nearby. ‘Spread out between myself and Balthrir and you get anyone between Balthrir and the crown out of the way! I’ll clear the way to the right.’
Krish remembered all those times at the campsite in Battle when he’d made friends and assumed command. Where nobody knew him or was familiar with how shy and softly spoken he was normally. He could play at being someone confident, someone in command, and right now he had every reason in all the world to take charge. He’d thought he wanted to see a heartless, vindictive king wither and die before his very eyes prior to departing Ilir with the Myrthali. But he realised now that Balthrir and Tol and Nboosa and all the people of this land would be left with another ruler who was just as cruel and bloodthirsty. No. Krish was taking charge to leave this land a different and better place altogether. It might be a mad, desperate gamble, but he would not leave without doing everything he could to prevent another vindictive tyrant being crowned queen or king.
A few of the prisoners rose to their feet. Some picked up discarded swords or spears. Tol seemed pretty happy with his plank of wood. Nboosa found both a sword and a shield.
‘If I’d found it I’d rather have had my staff,’ said Nboosa. ‘Like my worst pupil over here. She’d better be as good at ruling as she is at magic! And it’s the magic, the way she won that crowd over in the arena, the fact she was there when you brought Obsendei to his knee—’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah!’ Balthrir was boiling with impatience. ‘COME ON!’
Krish himself picked up a sword from under a shield. He was surprised at how heavy it was. How could you fight with this? He struggled at first just to pick it up. There was blood on the blade. He wiped some of it off with his sleeve then looked at the bloodstain on his top and wondered why the hell he’d just done that. He looked at Balthrir. There were no more words they could say to one another. He knew that she would do anything to save her parents. He knew she trusted him. And he could see that look in her eyes as she glanced at the blood on his sleeve. Her eyes acknowledged that he didn’t want anyone else to die, but he knew that this day would not end well for this world if he didn’t do what was necessary to save as many lives in the long run as he could.
A nod of understanding and then the two friends separated. Balthrir headed to the left of the fearsome conflict, Tol, Nboosa and a number of the prisoners fanning out to her right, ready to take on whoever they could. They looked like a desperate band up against two squads of fully armed, highly trained guards. Krish held back, feeling cowardly not to dive in straight away, but he kept his eye on the furious scrum by the throne. The sun was slowly rising, shining in his eyes, he was struggling to see—
A shape out of the corner of his eye heading straight for him. Krish dodged to one side and a blade swung right past his ear. He saw eyes wild with bloodlust. Vira. Her smile still small, coy but powerful on those dark red lips. She brought her sword up again and swung for Krish. He was ready this time. With all his strength he lifted his sword. His blade met hers.
‘Is that really you, little boy?’ Her manic eyes were locked with his. Krish wouldn’t let his fear show. She thrust her blade forward but he pushed back. His muscles ached as he pushed against Vira, their blades still crossed. ‘The same quiet, pathetic child who begged for his mother’s life?’ Krish pulled his sword away from Vira and swung for her leg. Vira parried. ‘You may have brought that old man to his knees but not me! Do you know what plans I have for my new queendom?!’ Vira went to strike Krish and the two parried back and forth for a few seconds. Over Vira’s shoulder Krish spotted a glorious sight. A tiny bird, a blur of green and blue, swooped over the fight and a cloud of white dropped from the bag he was holding.
While Krish was preoccupied by the sight of Gulwin, Vira saw her chance. Her eyes open as wide as they would go, almost as if they were going to pop out, she swung at Krish’s heels and he had to jump backwards to avoid having his feet severed. He fell to the ground and Vira held her sword to his throat. A sly, victorious smile spread across her face.
‘You may have brought down the Black Palace but I shall build myself a Red Palace! It shall be sturdier, taller and more terrifying a spectacle for all my foes to behold! I SHALL SLAUGHTER ALL THOSE I PLEASE, RELIEVE THEM OF THEIR SKINS, PRESERVE THEM IN SALT, FORCE ESHTER TO ENCHANT THEM SO THEY GLISTEN AND SHINE AND BUILD A TOWER FROM THEIR CORPSES TALLER THAN THIS WORLD HAS EVER SEEN!’
‘You really are flippin’ crackers, aren’t you?’ said Krish. He could see those who had been embroiled in the fight now lying about scratching themselves all over. Nboosa, Tol and the prisoners were battling thei
r way through those left standing. Tol was doing a particularly excellent job of knocking down as many people as he could with his bloodied plank. Krish, unseen by Vira, reached into his pocket. ‘No palace will ever stand on this spot again and neither you, nor anybody remotely like you, will ever wear that crown upon your head!’
Krish pulled out the distress stone, held it under Vira’s torso and pressed hard. He shut his eyes. Even through his closed eyelids he saw the flash of red. A shrill scream from Vira and her body shot to one side. He opened his eyes and saw the blinking Vira, partially blinded by the flare, staggering to her feet. But now she was aware of what was happening behind her. Balthrir was rushing towards the centre of a heap of scratching bodies lying on the ground by the throne. Vira wasted not a second more. With incredible speed she shot across what remained of the throne room. Krish stood and made chase. He sprinted across the chamber, his legs clumsily beating the ground, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He was gaining on Vira. His breath was short, his heart beating. He could see it! The crown! Balthrir was close…
Eshter ran towards Balthrir. Balthrir saw and struck out with her staff. Eshter raised her staff too and although the two wizards were some metres apart, their staffs appeared to magically make contact with each other through the air. The two began to fight, parrying back and forth, their staffs never making physical contact, striking at each other magically across the ether. Krish was only a metre or so behind Vira now. Balthrir swung her staff and struck Eshter directly across the back, actually making contact this time. Eshter had grabbed the staff as it struck her and pulled Balthrir to the ground with her. Then Eshter reached out… she was so close to the crown… Krish had no way of getting there first and Balthrir lay on the ground, winded. Suddenly a spell sped through the air and hit Eshter in the face. She was knocked to one side. Krish turned to see Nboosa, her arm outstretched, mouthing a rather rude word in Eshter’s direction before turning back to the guard she was fighting.
