by R A Oakes
“You shouldn’t have cared if you mattered at all. You add your life to the pool of universal energy and let it take you where it will,” Marcheto said.
“I’m aware of the energy that fuels the Trinity. But if it’s so powerful, why is there so much evil in the world? Why is goodness always so far beyond our reach?” Eldwyn asked.
“It’s not beyond our reach, it’s all around us. But it doesn’t always appear decisive or conclusive. It takes great courage to reach out to something that seems vulnerable, even weak,” Marcheto said.
“Well then, I don’t have much courage,” the old wizard lamented.
“Yes you do. Resisting evil takes courage, especially when it’s cloaked in a mixture of reality, illusion, lies and half- truths. To challenge evil is to defeat it, if only for the moment,” Marcheto said.
This young man’s insightful, possibly even a prodigy. Maybe there is hope, Eldwyn thought while pondering his apprentice’s words. However, pointing out a harsh reality to the young wizard, Eldwyn said, “At Dominion Castle, two-weeks’ ride east of here, the forces of darkness are solidly entrenched.”
“There will be a reckoning,” Marcheto said. “It will come. But don’t try to make it happen, don’t look for it to happen, and don’t even want it to happen. Just let it happen.”
“It hasn’t happened in 30 years,” Eldwyn said.
“It will,” Marcheto replied with conviction.
“Until that day comes, try to resist the temptation to throw all your staff’s energy away on impressing a young woman,” Eldwyn said bringing the young philosopher back down to earth.
“I’ll be more careful,” Marcheto promised.
“To help Lord Stallington and Genevieve, you’ll need to do better than I did with King Kardimont. The forces at work against them are greater than they realize.”
“Yes, sir, but who are these enemy warriors?” Marcheto asked glancing around the fortification.
“These men are just rabble. I’d wager they don’t even know who hired them. But whoever it was definitely wants Rathlor, Lord Stallington’s son, to inherit Skybrook Castle. And wants it badly.”
“What can we do?”
“For now, let your friends and Lord Stallington’s men handle the rest of the fight. But if you want, you can rescue Aerylln.”
Marcheto’s eyes brightened at that.
“But don’t overdo it,” Eldwyn said sternly.
“No sir,” Marcheto said.
Glowing brightly once again, Eldwyn stepped into the wizard’s staff, into the gateway to the College of Wizards. But before disappearing entirely, he hesitated and looked eastward towards the kingdom of the dark lord who’d conquered Dominion Castle.
“Feel my presence, Swarenth!” he shouted. “Feel the beginning of the end!”
“You’re itching for a fight, aren’t you? You want a chance to redeem yourself, don’t you?” Marcheto asked.
“But we’re leaderless. There’s no banner to rally ‘round,” Eldwyn sighed in despair.
“He’ll come,” Marcheto said firmly.
“How do you know that?” Eldwyn asked.
“Because he has to,” Marcheto replied.
Chapter 3
Dominion Castle. Thirty years earlier.
Tarlen, King Kardimont’s six-year-old son, was holding Carplorthian’s hand as they made their way down a long, winding staircase to the castle dungeon. Carplorthian was the king’s best friend, chief aide and most trusted advisor.
“Hurry Tarlen, we’ve no time to lose!” Carplorthian said using a torch to light their way. “Swarenth’s gargoyles are everywhere!”
The invaders were savage, brutal, grotesque creatures with hideous faces and hairy, ape-like bodies. Gargoyles had the predatory eyes of a hawk and the tusks of a wild boar. A long, wide bone covered with thick hide extended outward from the base of their skulls shielding the back of their necks. Wings protruded from their shoulder blades, but the apes were so overweight they couldn’t fly. For clothing, gargoyles wore only sleeveless, gray tunics bearing their leader Swarenth’s symbol across the front, black claw marks.
Carplorthian had been informed only minutes before about the death of King Kardimont and the entire royal family, except for this young boy. Long ago, one of Carplorthian’s ancestors had designed the secret passageways that existed throughout Dominion Castle. None knew the inner workings of the castle better than the king’s chief aide.
Watching through a peephole in a thick stone wall, one of Carplorthian’s own aides had seen King Kardimont and his family as they made their last stand against the enemy. Carplorthian’s first impulse had been to throw himself against the overwhelming force of gargoyles that was storming the giant fortress. But the king’s youngest son had been left in his care. Saving the boy, now heir to the crown, became Carplorthian’s sole priority.
As the king’s chief aide ran down the stairs, pulling on Tarlen’s hand as he went, it struck him. This boy isn’t just the heir to the crown, he’s the new king. Tarlen’s all that’s left of the royal line.
Suddenly, the king’s closest friend was struck by the enormity of his responsibility to the kingdom. The fate of the entire realm rested upon his shoulders, and Carplorthian’s knees nearly buckled from the sheer weight of this incredible burden. He had to save King Kardimont’s son. He had to rescue King Tarlen!
“King Tarlen?” Carplorthian whispered almost imperceptibly and with a sense of wonder as he looked at the small boy awkwardly running down the steps deep into the bowels of Dominion Castle.
“Carp, where are we going? Why aren’t we trying to help father?” Tarlen asked his playmate. The young boy and the king’s chief aide were close friends as well. But Tarlen couldn’t say Carplorthian’s full name. He just couldn’t get his tongue around all the syllables. So Tarlen had settled on calling his friend Carp or Fish.
“I’m not a fish,” Carplorthian would object in mock
horror.
“Yes you are,” the boy would say while giggling at his own little joke. “A Carp is a fish. How well do you swim?”
“I swim quite well, thank you,” Carplorthian would answer each time his young friend asked the question.
“See, I told you that you were a fish!” Tarlen would exclaim as he drove home his point.
Carplorthian would then feel behind his ears and shout in great surprise, “Why I have fish gills!”
“I knew it! I knew you were a fish!” the boy would scream out. And not long afterwards, it seemed, he would begin his little joke all over again. And again. And again. He never tired of it.
Carplorthian loved this boy. The king’s chief aide had never married and had no children of his own. But everyone at court knew that Tarlen had singled out King Kardimont’s best friend as his own best friend, and all were happy for Carplorthian. He was held in high esteem, advising not only the king but many of his ministers, and it was a widely held belief that he deserved the king’s favor and the favor of the king’s youngest son.
Today, however, Fish was being very serious. “Keep up, Tarlen. This is not a game. You’re in great danger.”
“We should go help father. I can fight Swarenth’s gargoyles, too,” the young boy said. And then, reaching for a sheath strapped to one of his small boots, he tried pulling out the knife while running downstairs and almost tripped.
“Careful, Tarlen. Leave your knife where it is for now.” But to himself he added, You might need it before this is all over.
When Carplorthian and Tarlen reached the bottom of the stairs, they turned left and headed down a hallway that had jail cells lining the walls on either side. All were empty.
“Where is everyone?” Tarlen asked. Having spent much of his young life exploring the castle, including the dungeon, he knew prisoners were kept here.
“Those willing to face Swarenth’s gargoyles and defend Dominion Castle were released. Surprisingly, that turned out to be everyone.”
“How did you know you
could trust them?”
“We gave them their freedom, young man, but not our trust. We didn’t arm them until they were out in the main courtyard, which was teaming with gargoyles at that point. From what I hear, they died a noble death serving your father. Some even fought quite well.”
After reaching the last jail cell on the right, Carplorthian stuck his hand into a coat pocket and pulled out a key. The king’s chief aide was wearing a calf-length coat made of soft, brown leather. Under the coat, he wore a robe cut full enough to allow for his rather ample stomach. Although only 30-years- old, he had developed quite a paunch. With his heavy jowls and rounded face, he looked very much like an overgrown cherub. Until you noticed his eyes. They took in everything.
“The other cells have their doors ajar. Why is this one locked?” Tarlen asked.
“You’ll see,” Carplorthian said opening the door for his new master.
Walking over to the far wall, the king’s chief aide reached above his head, pushed one of the stones, and it receded about six inches. Quickly stepping to the right side of the cell, he pushed two more stones. They, too, receded into the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m unlocking a hidden door.”
Placing his right hand against the wall, Carplorthian gave it a push. Nothing happened. He gave it another shove, this time much harder. Still nothing.
Suddenly Carplorthian whipped his head around when he heard the sound of creatures stomping down the dungeon stairs. The king’s chief aide strode back to the cell door and looked out into the hallway. It was lined with torches, as was the staircase. In the flickering light, he could see shadows on the far wall. Gargoyles!
With feelings of desperation welling up inside of him, Carplorthian went back to the stone wall and hit it hard with his shoulder.
“You might want to hurry,” Tarlen said while calmly sliding a knife from his boot. “Carp, it’s important that we die with honor.”
The king’s chief aide looked down at Tarlen and marveled at how cool the young boy was in a crisis. “I don’t intend for us to die at all, little master.”
Carplorthian lay his torch down on the floor and threw his whole weight against the wall. He made a loud grunt, and the noise echoed down the hallway. Instantly, the gargoyles, screaming and growling, made a headlong rush towards the last jail cell.
The king’s chief aide turned away from the wall and took several brisk steps back towards the jail-cell door. He spun around and, running as hard as he could, hit the stone wall with all the force he could muster. A whole section of the wall gave way, and a door creaked open.
“You first,” Tarlen said turning to face the jail-cell door and gripping his knife tightly.
“Both of us are going in now!” Carplorthian said picking up his torch and tossing it into the darkness. Then, scooping up the boy, he wrapped both arms protectively around him and ran through the doorway into the hidden tunnel.
At that moment, gargoyles began pouring into the jail cell and, seeing the secret door, threw themselves against it. The king’s chief aide tried slamming it shut, but the upper edge stuck against the doorjamb. The gargoyles forced it open a little, and one shoved his hand through the crack. Rushing forward, Tarlen drove his knife into the gargoyle’s flesh causing the creature to let out a high-pitched scream and yank his hand back. Taking advantage of the confusion, Carplorthian heaved his bulk against the door, closed it and threw a large, iron bolt into place.
“They know where we are,” Tarlen said.
“But the gargoyles don’t know where the exit is. However, they did see your green tunic with the royal crest and may know who you are, at least the evil warlord, Swarenth, will know when they report to him. He’ll be looking for you in earnest when he learns you’re still alive.”
“Let them come. I’m not afraid of them!”
Once more, Carplorthian looked down at his young friend and marveled. Realizing the boy had spoken the truth and wasn’t afraid, Carplorthian thought, Maybe courage does run in the bloodline of kings.
The king’s chief aide walked over to the torch and picked it back up. Holding it above his head, he peered into the darkness and was reassured by what he saw. “It’s been a while, but I recognize this passageway. It leads down through a natural crevice in the ground, sort of an underground cavern.”
“Are there any underground streams where a fish might swim?” Tarlen asked.
“This isn’t a good time to start teasing me. I really need to stay focused.”
“I don’t think we have too much to worry about. Some fish are harder to catch than others, especially a Carp,” Tarlen said smiling up at his protector.
The king’s chief aide put a hand on his young master’s head and tousled his hair. “Thanks for having confidence in me.”
“I’ve always believed in you, Carp, and I always will. But how are we going to escape? We’re all alone.”
“Not quite,” Carplorthian smiled. “Your father had contingency plans for everything.”
“Even this?”
“Yes, even this. Swarenth should never have been able to outmaneuver your father. Some sort of evil has to be lurking in the shadows.”
“I heard father say something about a person named Balzekior.”
“If she’s behind all this, then even as bad as things look now, they could get a whole lot worse,” the king’s chief aide said before he caught himself. “Oh, Tarlen, I didn’t mean to say that.”
“We’re running away because father’s dead, aren’t we?”
Carplorthian was shocked into silence. He didn’t know what to say.
“It’s okay, Fish, father spoke to me about this day. He said it might come.”
Carplorthian was embarrassed to have this small boy reassuring him. “I’m the one who should be comforting you, young master.”
“Tell me one thing. Is everyone dead? I mean my mother, brothers and sisters. Have they all been killed as well?”
But looking up at his friend’s grief-stricken face, Tarlen could see the answer for himself. “That means I’m the new king.”
“Yes, that’s right. So, when King Kardimont spoke to you about this day, what did he tell you?”
“Father told me to be brave and to never be taken alive!”
“Well, you’ve obeyed his command and done both,” the king’s chief aide said. Then as memories of his best friend began surfacing, Carplorthian was overwhelmed with grief. Leaning back against a wall and covering his face with his hands, he said, “There was no one on earth I loved more than your father.”
“I know,” Tarlen said as he took one of Carp’s hands. “Do you really think there’s anyone left to help us?”
“Of course there are people who can help us. King Kardimont would never have left you defenseless. He was a true warrior king. He thought of everything, up until now that is. But the question is, will the help we have be enough?”
“Try not to worry, it’s my job to rule now. You served my father well, now serve me. I want to meet the people who are going to help us escape.”
Looking carefully at his friend, Carplorthian realized that within this child were the makings of a true king. “At the far end of this long crevice is a huge, cavernous chamber. We should find them there.”
“Good, let’s head on,” the young king said. But after walking just a short distance, they heard a strange noise. “Clank, clank, clank!”
“What could that be?” Tarlen asked.
“It might be Glenitant,” Carplorthian said cautiously. “She makes that noise when she grows tired of carrying her sword and uses it as a walking stick.”
“I’ve seen her do that, too. That’s not the proper way to care for a weapon,” Tarlen protested.
“Well, Glenitant’s sword is a particularly heavy burden. There are days when I’ve seen her barely able to lift it.”
“Maybe we can help her carry it,” Tarlen suggested.
“No, Tarlen! You must never
touch that sword!”
“Why not?”
“There’s something foul about that weapon.”
“Should we call out to her?” Tarlen asked.
“If that’s her, she’ll already know who and where we are.”
“How?”
“There’s a lot I don’t understand about Glenitant’s sword, but its name is Crystal, and it has very sharp senses. It probably told her we’re here.”
“It talks?”
“Yes, but nothing good has ever come of that sword. So don’t talk to it.”
Carplorthian and Tarlen walked farther down the passageway to a point where two crevices converged. The sound of metal hitting against a stone floor echoed from within the natural tunnel. “Clank, clank, clank!”
Suddenly, Tarlen felt the temperature of the cavern plummeting. Fog began rolling out of the other crevice, flowing around their ankles and becoming so deep and thick that the young boy could hardly see his legs.
“Fish, it’s almost like standing on a cloud,” Tarlen said running his hands back and forth along the top of the white vapor.
“The clanking sound has stopped,” Carplorthian pointed out.
The new king’s chief aide and the young boy listened to the silence. After a little while, a new sound began.
“Scrape, scrape, scrape.”
“It sounds like something’s being dragged along the floor,” Tarlen said.
Carplorthian shuddered involuntarily, and it wasn’t due just to the cold. However Tarlen, after peering into the adjoining crevice, couldn’t see anything and began walking down the passageway to get a better look.
“Sire, please stay here with me,” Carplorthian pleaded.
Hearing the fear in his chief aide’s voice, the young king toughened his resolve, squared his shoulders and peered even more intently into the gloom. Tarlen was prepared to meet whatever came out of the shadows.
Slowly, an attractive woman in her late 20s appeared pulling a heavy weight behind her. The young boy smiled, patted Fish on his big stomach and laughed, “You’re right, Carp, it’s just Glenitant.”
