by Guy Antibes
Lord Wilton, obviously not pleased, replied, “What happened to my agents? They were high born Murgrontians. I cannot take the loss of their lives lightly.”
“What does Murgrontia do with the spies it catches?” King Obsomil shrugged. “We were lucky to escape with their remains to hide any proof of Murgrontian influence.” retorted the hooded figure. “Fosdick and Defting didn’t have time to talk. I still have some control over most of the guards. It will erode quickly, but we must leave now.”
~
Ichar thought for a bit. “Let’s all return to Alchant. There we will see what we need to do to turn events our way again. Stand over here. You see the markings in the rafters. Move the bodies within them.” He pushed some straw and dirt aside with his boot, revealing a portal. Ichar opened a panel, replaced a cylindrical object with one of identical size, and adjusted a control. One of the two refugees gave a start when he saw the cylindrical object, and then settled down. Ichar felt uneasy about this pair of unknown nobles. Something about them just didn’t seem right.
He shrugged and set the controls. Dust rose in the air, and then settled on a very empty stable.
~~~
Chapter 14
Diltrant, under King Obsomil, had a succession plan that led to a smooth transfer of power. Habamil, Obsomil’s younger brother was named regent. He would have to wait two years to become king in the absence of royal remains. Obsomil had run the external affairs with the help of Bloodin, Lord of Foreign Affairs and General of the Diltrantian Military Force. However, Habamil incarcerated Bloodin after a week of trying to open the metal doors to the artifact room. Dravin, former head of Habamil’s secret police now counseled the Regent as head of Foreign Affairs. The two sat together in the lodge that was built over the Grethian Hall.
“We need to learn the ways of that artifact Pola left when he disappeared. I have posted guards around the thing and moved it to a locked cabinet in a room in our headquarters that has but one guarded entrance. I don’t know if they can return the way they disappeared. It’s too bad there is no priesthood to help us, but I do not trust Ichar, at all, despite his support of my ascension to the Diltrant throne,” said Habamil. “How are the plans with Alchant progressing, Dravin?
“We have stationed Yorg, Bloodin’s best agent, in one of our ships to monitor activities between Murgrontia and Alchant. It seems that the Alchant/Murgrontian alliance has become more expansionary. He sent a bird with the message that Murgrontia has secretly seized the port under Ichar’s nose. There are even rumors of Actobal coming into their sphere of influence.”
“Is there any word from the engineers on getting through to that vault? Obsomil must have surely starved by this time. It’s so, ah, disturbing, not knowing the ultimate fate of my brother.” Habamil rose from his seat and began to nervously pace back and forth.
“No, my Lord. We can’t get through the doors or the walls. They are made out of very thick, very strong metal. You will recall, your grandfather unsuccessfully tried to get through them after he expelled the priesthood. We can’t blast our way through for fear of bringing the mountain down around us. I am afraid your brother is in a tomb we cannot unseal. There’s no way Ichar or Pola will return with the Hand to open the room up any time soon. The artifacts inside are holy relics to them and not something for us to even think about. Consider Obsomil’s body in a sealed tomb and in good time you will succeed him as King.”
Habamil waved his hand. “I know, I know, But if there were only remains, if we were absolutely sure...” Habamil rolled his hand into a fist and put it to his mouth. “If Obsomil ever shows up—if by some means he got out alive—I won’t be able to handle the results.” His pacing continued. Wasn’t there any way to be sure? Could he bribe the Alchantians? Habamil shuddered to think what they would demand. He couldn’t let the Grethians back into Diltrant without a massive revolt.
“As Regent, I must wait to be able to carry out my program. If only the waiting period wasn’t two years. I can’t wait... can’t wait.” the last, Habamil spoke as if to himself and said no more. He looked sharply at Dravin, his mind not quite able to come up with any kind of the solution that he wanted. “Perhaps I will flaunt the waiting period. Who will stop me?” He paced a moment more, and then left without another word to Dravin.
~~~
Chapter 15
The stars shone brightly in the clear sky above Port Alchant. The sea’s incoming tide began to raise the ships at the wharves with no change in the gentle slapping at the rotting timbers. There would be no departures on this calm windless night. The hour was late. But as Jan gazed from the wharf to the hills and the estates of the nobility, through the darkness of the silent buildings, lights outlined the form of the massive, imposing black pyramid that was the temple of Grethia.
They entered a restaurant, which looked more like an expensive tavern to Jan, and sat down. A serving girl took their order and both men began to eat. They could talk more freely outside of their quarters in the Temple.
A beardless, shorn King Obsomil looked glumly at Jan seated across from him. The fire gave more light than warmth in the night-chilled taproom. “I need a plan,” Obsomil remarked. “Our presence here after these few weeks remains tenuous. King Mulloy is preparing his defense, but I honestly don’t know if he will be able to stay in power. Ichar and his people don’t want to invade without an organized local resistance. The killing of those two Murgrontians didn’t seem to halt the Grethians and Murgrontians one little bit. Let’s get out of this place, Jan. I want to take a walk!” He pushed the half-eaten meal away from him and rose.
The two men left their room and departed towards the temple. As they left, a shadow peeled itself from the wall and went off in the same direction following them at a discreet distance.
“We are being followed, Lord.” Jan whispered.
“It matters not. What will we do? I have no plan as of yet. Once we disposed of Defting’s man here in Alchant we didn’t need to worry about exposure from the nobles. I still need to wander a bit to clear my head. The priests have had their information from us. I don’t know how much longer we can go on undiscovered. Everyone obviously identifies my former beard and long hair with my regal status. It was enough to fool Wilton and Ichar for a short time. Someone could show up at any time who knows me well enough to know whom I am, beard or no beard. We are Port Alchant’s idle guests until Wilton returns with his army. Tell me, Jan, how do you analyze the situation we are in?”
“I agree with you. At this point I think the benefits of staying are outweighed by the serious prospects of our discovery. As you said, the risk is really high.”
“Let us find a spy. I think this walk and this discussion has shown me the way. I am reluctant to return to Diltrant and deal with my brother, but it must be done.” Obsomil sped up his pace back towards the temple.
~
The harbor was awash in the ruddy light of the setting sun the next day. The row of taverns lining the wharves were beginning to take on life as the lights within began to gain on the light outside. Jan and Obsomil were seated at a table with Yorg, who had arrived a few days ago, just the spy Obsomil had sought.
Yorg rolled the half-filled mug between his hands. “I find it difficult to swallow even now that you have told me. I knew the Grethian Hand was an object of power, but it seems what is behind the power is greater than I would have known. Things could be better at home. Your brother has entrusted the defense of the kingdom to his own forces and has disbanded the army, made easier with General Bloodin taken. His transition was so smooth, I feel strongly that it has been planned for some time. He announced his new role and Dravin’s elevation just before I left. He has made his police headquarters into the chief administration center. He is still hesitant about a permanent move into the palace, but I sense that he will lose patience and soon declare himself king.” He took a long draught and narrowed his eyes.
”The only reason I’m working this assignment is to stay closer to o
ur enemy, Habamil. I didn’t do anything stupid when the regency was announced like a few of my colleagues. Dravin sent me out as quickly as he could. In spite of what Lord Habamil tells him, Dravin is a little uncertain about the current state of events and he is not alone. Lord Habamil announced that Bloodin was taking an extended leave to continue his University work. Of course, no one believes him. Lord Bloodin is either dead or in a dungeon. What can I do to help you, your Majesty?”
“No majesties here, Yorg. I am not now King of Diltrant. I am here as someone else, as you know. We are also being followed. I believe the two men over by the door are tonight’s escort. I am going to ostensibly book passage to Murgrontia on your ship.” Yorg furrowed his brows and nodded his head.
“When do you set sail, Captain?” Obsomil asked, loudly enough to be overheard. “I am anxious to visit Ilyant.”
“I’ll have to discuss this change of course with my crew. We can leave any time after midnight. The sooner, the better.” Yorg bowed his head as King Obsomil put on a show of placing Actobal gold pieces in Yorg’s hand.
“Jan, your skills at penetrating the temple will be sorely taxed tonight.” Obsomil warned. “Are you ready?”
Jan looked towards the fire burning not far from where they sat. Running through the plan he had worked out with Obsomil in his mind, Jan delayed his response until he finished. “The plan will work. I wonder how we will do on the ship? I don’t know what size the field is on the portal. They could send a large group through before we could turn it off. I’m not sure that I can remember how to do it from the tab I read a few weeks ago. I’ll only know once I closely examine a portal.” Jan paused a bit. “I am sure of what to do—even more so now that we have been staying at the temple.”
He looked towards the men who had followed them and turned his head a bit, so they wouldn’t be able to hear. “There are some better routes to follow out. My last stroll through the temple found a few more secret passages that might be useful. This temple is filled with them as part of its elaborate venting system. What about the Hand? Shall we take that as well?” Jan paused. Obsomil’s face answered his question without a comment.
Jan continued, “I would think that the machines in the Hall could be valuable to Mulloy. That would enhance your alliance with Actobal basing it on trade and technology rather than on the fear of a mutual enemy.”
Obsomil looked at Jan, “I agree. My dreams can only assume reality with your help.” He sat back and hooked his thumbs on his belt. “It will be good to see my family, again. They think I’m dead and, unfortunately, I will be for just a bit longer.
~
A priest guarded the door to an obscure supply room deep within the Temple. Two figures were bringing a chest down a stairway that led past the room. “High Priest Ichar, has sent us here to put this trunk into the storeroom,” one of the men breathlessly said to the priest. The priest unlocked the doorway and let the two men in. The door was closed behind the two men. In the blue light that was ever present in the passageways beneath the temple, Jan and Obsomil looked at each other when they heard shouts of alarm.
“They are gone, the holy devices are gone again!” The priest at the door ran into the storage room. He was made unconsciousness by a blow to the head.
Jan joined Obsomil as they transferred contents to a much smaller chest from the storage room. “Let’s get this on board Yorg’s ship!” Obsomil said. The two men started up the stairs and went through a little used door. The passage wasn’t lit by blue lights, but Jan pulled out a tiny lantern lit by a small candle. Eventually, they broke into a corridor close to an exit of the temple. From there, they entered the street. They had the good fortune of Port Alchant’s persistent fog to hide their movements, just as it had for Jan some time ago.
~~~
Chapter 16
Captain Yorg peered anxiously into the fog towards the port, away from the sea. The sound of foghorns rolled along the placid water of the bay. A breeze freshened and the fog thinned in places, so that the mist revealed what rode the sea from time to time. Yellow fog lamps bobbed gently in the harbor. Jan and Obsomil, now dressed more like sailors, carried a small chest down the wharf. Yorg exhaled deeply and called for some of his hands to help his disguised king bear the precious burden. He yelled at his crew to get underway and the gangplank went up as the ropes were being cast off. Silently, the ship slid away from the pier and into the departing mist.
Jan and Obsomil were joined by Captain Yorg in the captain’s quarters. The lid was lifted off of the casket. Beneath two discarded priest’s robes were three portals, half of a meter in diameter, gleaming with the centuries old polish from the caress of generations of priests nestled in a bed of cylindrical Grethian relics.
The Hand, showing in its own light again, returned to the possession of Diltrant.
“This calls for a celebration,” Yorg went to a cabinet and drew out three cups and a bottle of wine. The drinks were poured and handed out.
“It seems we’ve been here before, Yorg,” Jan said looking deeply into the other man’s eyes.
“This is no repeat of the last celebration you and I had. His majesty would not permit it,” Yorg said defensively nodding to King Obsomil.
“Under my orders, Yorg drugged your last drink and under my orders he has given you the same wine that I drink. However,” lifting his glass in a toast, “this time you have outdone even my high expectations. Here is to the successful execution of the first phase of our plan!” With a wolfish grin, he rammed his cup into those of his companions and drank deeply. The others followed.
Putting his cup down, Jan said, “I need to look at these things to make sure they can’t be used to transport soldiers on board the boat.” He took the portals, one by one and examined them. Satisfied that he could deactivate them, he did so by removing the cylindrical objects he had seen Ichar use. “They should be hidden until we get closer to Diltrant.”
“My sentiments exactly, Jan, my boy,” the king said and looked at Yorg with raised eyebrows. The questioning look was answered with a self-satisfied smile of the seasoned seafarer. He went to the bed in the room and swung it out of the way, showing a compartment filled with some trunks, a case of wine bottles and other sundry gear. The three moved two of the portals to the hidden storage area. Jan had fiddled with the last one as it lay on the floor of the cabin. He bent down, touched a control and disappeared. Yorg, with alarm, looked in panic at the King. Obsomil merely picked up the portal and put it into the secret compartment with its companions and put the bunk back in place muttering, “Hope he has fun.”
~
Jan looked up at darkening sky. The stars revealed a clear night, wherever he was. He had materialized in the center of a clearing in a forest. The outline of the trees blocked out the periphery of the stellar display. Gathering his wits, Jan looked beneath his feet to find the top plate mostly hidden by dirt and debris. Jan looked around and spotted a nearby a large stone that would enable him to easily locate the portal again. He bent down and deactivated the ancient instrument. Jan quickly moved out of the clearing.
He observed the cabin’s lights from a hidden vantage point in the woods. He cautiously approached the large cabin. Inside, there were a group of about forty men clustered in small groups around the single large room. Jan noticed a group close to an open window and crept under the window to eavesdrop.
“I hate this waiting. I don’t know why we need to vegetate in this jail of a cabin. I want some action... anything to reduce the boredom,” the man complained while they continued to comment on the game that they played.
“I know how you feel… waiting stinks! After months of waiting, we get one little piece of action in that Diltrantian lodge… we lost some good friends in that fight.” The men continued to gripe. Jan’s ears pricked up when he heard more.
Another man spoke, “I can’t wait to take care of the Regent when Wilton arrives. Habamil is such a turd.”
General grunts of assent were heard.
The men then went back to examining their game. Jan had heard enough.
Jan crept back to the clearing to wait for the morning’s first light. As the tips of the trees were brushed with the light of the dawning sun, Jan reactivated the portal and disappeared from the meadow.
Steel touched Jan’s throat as he materialized on board the ship. The sharp points pressed harder as the boat rocked. Obsomil looked at Jan with his mouth slightly open. “I thought you were gone for good. It’s been daylight for nearly an hour.”
“Oh,” said Jan. “With the mountains and the trees, I guess first light is a little sooner at sea.”
“I guess,” Yorg said as he sheathed his blade.
Jan immediately deactivated the portal. “I’ve got some news and I don’t think it’s going to be good. It’s about your brother.”
“What is he up to?”
“Wilton is going to arrive with Murgrontians and then they will take care of Habamil. I did pick up that even though they are disbanded, your army was rather devoted to you.” Jan filled the two men in on his eavesdropping at the cabin.
That last comment brought a grim smile to Obsomil’s set lips. “We don’t know if it’s the same army that’s headed for Actobal. But it doesn’t matter. There are times to be subtle and times to be brash. I had hoped for subtlety, but circumstances often dictate the paths we will follow.”
“I understand,” Jan said, even though he hated improvisation. “Your brother’s forces only operate because you’re not there. If we are totally in the open and act quickly, they won’t be able to react. Your subjects will render them ineffective!”
