Earth Magic

by Kenneth Price

  The Queen smiled. "Then there is still honor left in Strigiol. We will flee together and then we shall see what the future will bring. And perhaps others might join us.”

  "Yes," said Ruan, "We will see.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The hall before Ruan was long, dark, and empty. It had already been a long night. Dawn was still a few hours off, but for Ruan, the day had started several hours earlier. He moved swiftly but cautiously, carrying an unlit lantern from his hand. If there was anyone up this early, a light would surely give him away. It was not forbidden for a lord to be in the servant's quarters. However, it was not common, especially just before dawn. If he were seen, there would be questions and suspicions. People would want to know what the Lord Baron of Keloran was up to. At this hour, there could only be two reasons for a lord to be in the servant's quarters; one, he was returning from his lover's bed, or two; he was plotting something. For Lord Ruan, it was the latter.

  As a child, Ruan had spent two full years and several summers in the Gildas Palace. It was during those early years he had met King Jerran. Jerran was only a prince then. Ruan and Jerran had played together, exploring the palace's endless corridors. He knew from those childhood days that the servant's gate was poorly guarded. With the help of the queen, the gates would not be guarded at all this night. Evidently, she still had some friends and had helped out several times in making the plans for their escape. The nobles may have abandoned the queen, but many servants and guardsmen were willing to support their Queen, if only secretively. So far, the plan had worked. But now he would have to hurry. Dawn was approaching. Soon the hallways would be alive with activity. Servants would be getting up to prepare the morning meals, getting his or her lord's clothing ready for the day, cleaning the palace or one of the many other daily chores.

  With the back of his hand, Ruan covered a yawn. He had been up a good part of the night. Things had taken longer than he had thought or hoped. Yet it would be worth it. The preparations for his escape were done. With the help of Imrich, Ruan's riverboat captain, he had spent the night hunting down his crew. To Ruan, it felt like he had been to every seedy inn and tavern that Gildas had to offer. Through the long night, Imrich and Ruan had searched from one end of town to the other and by the time they had located everyone, it was nearly morning. They had found that most of the crew was in a sorry state of affairs. The majority of the men were found attempting to sleep off the night's drinks, and the crew members needed to be threatened, prodded, dragged, and when all else failed, carried back to ‘Fish Hawk’, Ruan’s riverboat. Imrich complained continually that it was Ruan’s own fault. For years, the one-eyed captain had been telling Ruan that he was too soft on the Fish hawk’s crew. "You pay them too well, my Lord, and too soon," Imrich would say. "Silver in a sailor's pouch is the same as putting a mug in his hands, and neither one will last for long. It would be far better to pay them when we reach home. Then their wives would see to it that their wages are not wasted on gambling, drink or other foolish weaknesses."

  Ruan turned a corner. The night was almost over. All that remained to do was to reach his rooms. His wife, Eilidh, the Queen, and the queen's son would be waiting there for him. If all went well, by noon he would be back on Fish Hawk and be free of the city. They would be gone before anyone suspected what they had planned.

  Thinking the worst was behind him, Ruan was taken unaware. He came to a sudden stop. Down the hall, someone or something had moved. Coming out of a side passageway was the dark shadow of a man. Like Ruan, the man walked without the aid of a light. Crouching down into the dark shadows of a door frame, Ruan watched. The man was dressed all in black and seemed to be one with the darkness. With long swift strides, he walked as if the halls were not cloaked in the dark shadows of the night.

  Ruan tried to sink further into the shadows. “Torcull!” he breathed. What is he doing here?

  Never looking in Ruan’s direction, Torcull turned and quickly headed down the hallway. With a mixture of fear and curiosity, Ruan hesitated. He knew he should get back to his rooms and to those who were waiting for him. And if Torcull were to see him now, hiding among the shadows of the servant’s corridors, no one would ever see Ruan again. However, something pulled at him. Ruan’s hesitation lasted only a moment, and then he was off after Torcull. Cautiously, Ruan moved among the shadows, keeping close to the wall. The Lord of Keloran stalked the Prophet. As if he were hunting the Black-Horned Bear of the Northern Drygan Mountains, Ruan removed his boots and crouched low. He tried to not get too close or to fall too far behind. Like the Black-Horned Bear, Ruan was sure Torcull had a keen sense of smell, and could see better in the dark than in the daylight. Briefly, he thought of attacking the Prophet, if he could kill the man, then perhaps the king would lesson to reason, but something told Ruan that to attack the Prophet was asking for death.

  Ruan had not been following Torcull for very long when the Prophet abruptly stopped, turned, then disappeared through a door.

  “Now, what could be behind that door?” Ruan decided to wait and find out. Across the hall, Ruan found a room that was unlocked and unoccupied. He searched the room from one end to the other. It was a small storeroom and was stuffed full of barrels and crates, and the smell of dust was strong. Satisfied that he was alone in the storeroom, Ruan returned to the doorway. He opened the door a crack, lowering himself to the floor, Ruan began to wait and watch. He leaned back against a wooden crate and settled in.

  What is behind that door? Ruan kept thinking and re-thinking. He had a strange feeling that something horrible was inside that room. He knew he should be on his way, yet he waited. Something was keeping him there. Curiosity? No, it was more. Ruan had to find out what the Prophet was hiding. It had to be important. There could be no other reason for Torcull to be down here. The thought of the Prophet visiting a lover seemed strangely out of place. The Prophet was a lover of power and not of the flesh. Even the idea of Torcull embracing another body sent chills down Ruan's spine. Torcull having a lover? It was almost repulsive.

  What woman could find the Prophet attractive?

  It was not that Torcull was ugly. The Prophet was actually the most perfect-looking man Ruan had ever seen. Torcull was tall, blond, and had the deepest blue eyes one could imagine, and when he wanted to be Torcull could be both graceful and charming. However, despite his looks, charms, and grace, women tended to avoid the Prophet. Everyone did. It was as if his enchanting looks and charms were a mask that covered a hideous face. Torcull was evil. You could not see it, but you knew it was there. Torcull looked like an angel but smelled like a demon.

  Ruan sat and waited. He watched the shadows of the corridor beginning to retreat. Dawn was approaching. What is he doing in there? He has been in there a long time. I wonder if there is another way out? I should be going, Eilidh will begin to worry soon. But still, Ruan waited.

  So far, no one had passed down the hallway, but Ruan knew it would not be much longer, and soon the castle would begin waking up, and people would be going about their business. Ruan was about to stand up and stretch his cramped muscles when he suddenly froze in place. The door he had been watching swung open. Torcull appeared. Like a moving shadow, the Dark Prophet glided into the hall. He took two steps down the corridor, then he abruptly stopped. He swung his blond head back over this shoulder. He gazed bake down the hallway. The light of the false dawn caught his blue eyes. Ruan swallowed. He was sure Torcull was staring right at him.

  Torcull’s eyes narrowed into two tiny blue slits. “Who’s there?” His voice was like the soft icy whisper of the grave.

  Cursing himself, Ruan swallowed again, only to discover that his mouth was painfully dry. Why did I follow him? I am a fool!

  Torcull took a step towards Ruan’s hiding place. “I know you are there. Come out!”

  In one smooth, effortless motion, Ruan came up onto his knees, as he rocked onto the balls of his feet. Crouching behind the door, he quietly began to draw his sword.

  No
rtherners, like Ruan, were trained to stay calm when confronting an enemy, but Torcull was not a Troll coming out of the Northern Drygan Mountains. Torcull was far more dangerous. Ruan took a deep breath, yet his heart refused to slow, and a cold fear clouded his judgment. A Troll he could handle; he knew what to expect from them, but Torcull was something else altogether. Torcull was spawned from the darkest blackness that had ever existed. For the first time in his life, Ruan knew what it was to fear. To die in battle was something all northerners expected, but this was somehow different. Trolls were cruel, but they were not evil,…at least not in the same way as Torcull.

  To Ruan’s surprise, a child’s voice answered Torcull. “I did not mean to spy,” came the soft whisper.

  Torcull’s face looked as surprised as Ruan felt. All but forgetting to be quiet, Ruan shifted is position so he could look down the hall to where the child’s voice had come from.

  Nervously stepping out of dark shadows was a thin twig of a girl. The child could be no more than seven or eight. The young girl's dress was a long brown cotton garment that fit as if it were a size too large. An apprentice, or the child of a castle servant, Ruan thought. And very poor by the looks of her.

  Ruan let his sword drop back into its sheath and shifted back so he could watch the Prophet. Torcull was still a threat.

  “I…I was on my way to the kitchens…the ovens need to be stoked up for the day… Your…Your Holiness." The voice of the terrified child shook and stuttered.

  Ruan could see the scowl on Torcull’s face. “Never call me that!” the Prophet spat at the shaking child.

  Nearly in tears, the child whimpered. “I…am…sorry, Your…My …Lord?”

  Torcull seemed to like that title only slightly less. “Are you alone?” he demanded.

  “Yes…My…My…Lord.”

  The scowl on Torcull’s face deepened as if for some reason he doubted her. “Never tell a soul you saw me here.”

  “I won’t…I…Promise.”

  “You better keep that promise, child, or you will wish that you had never been.”

  Strangely, the girl almost smiled at that, but Torcull did not seem to notice. Abruptly the Prophet spun on his heels and stalked off back down the hallway, mumbling something under his breath, then he disappeared as he was swallowed up by the shadows.

  Though the Dark Prophet was gone, Ruan remained crouching just inside the stockroom. The girl was still out there. He could not hear her, yet he knew she was still out there standing,….waiting. He did not seriously think she was a threat, but it would be best for the girl if she did not see him. She already had seen too much for her own good.

  Quick as the wind, the stockroom door was pulled open. Taken unaware, Ruan gasped.

  The dark haired servant girl stood looking down at the crouching lord. She had large sad eyes.

  “You are Lord Deuchar, aren’t you?” She said it as if she already knew the answer, and she no longer sounded scared. She stared down at Ruan as a mother would after finding her son hiding in the broom closet to avoid doing his chores.

  Ruan jumped to his feet. “Do I know you?”

  “Yes and no. But I do know you.”

  “You look familiar in some way." Her face, her eyes, they all reminded him of somebody, but he could not quite figure it out. "Are you a servant of the palace?"

  The girl smiled a smile that was both happy and sad, and she looked wise beyond her years. Ruan also felt sad and happy too, though, for his life, he could not say why.

  “I am one who never was,” she gave as an answer. “I have watched you for a long time. But this is the first time we have spoken.”

  Ruan frowned. That is no answer. “What is that supposed to mean? ‘One who never was’?’”

  She was silent for a moment, then ignoring his question she went on, Lord Ruan of Keloran you have very little time left. You must leave this city, but there is something you still need to do. My advice is to do it fast and make your escape quickly.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It is important that you remember, Ruan, that you are linked to the High King. In time, he will call for you. When he does you must go to him."

  “That does not make any sense. Please tell me who are you and why are you here.”

  “Remember, Ruan, when the king calls, go to him. I can say no more.” Before Ruan could say another word, the girl quickly closed the door on him.

  Stunned momentarily, Ruan reopened the door. The strange child was gone. She had simply vanished. Hesitating, the lord considered whether he should chase after the mysterious child or not. He decided not to. He was not at all sure he would be able to find her, and he did not wish to consider what that might mean.

  She saved my life. A child? Was she a child? Ruan turned to the door across the hall. It was the door that Torcull had just come out of. “Do what you are here to do” the words of the girl echoed in his head. He put his ear to the door. I am linked to High king, Jerran!? He is the one I am trying to escape from! Ruan could hear nothing. I have broken my oath to the king. If he calls me, I will not be going anywhere. Blast it girl. Who are you? And why do I keep feeling that she's the adult, and I am the child? Ruan tried to push the thoughts of the girl from his mind. The child made little sense. However, she had been right about one thing, he had very little time. He tried the door. It was locked, but the door was poorly constructed. Taking out a long knife that Ruan kept in his boot the bearded lord quickly pried open the door. Torcull would know someone had broken in, but by then Ruan hoped to be far away.

  Ruan found his flint. With a quick jerk of his hand, he lit the wick of his brass lantern he had been carrying. The flame flickered once before a small flame firmly caught to the wick.

  Ruan let the light spread across the room.

  "A servant's room?' Ruan said in a whisper. He had not expected to find a servant's room. His eyes drifted across the room looking for what Torcull would have come here for. Like most servant’s quarters, the room was small with only a few furnishings. Other than a narrow cot, a round throw rug, a small fireplace, and an old empty dresser, the room was empty. There was not even a chair to sit on. The room appeared to not have been used in a long time. A thick layer of dust lay everywhere. The fireplace looked as if it had been years since it was last used.

  Strange, thought Ruan, why had the Prophet come here, and why had he spent so much time here? Ruan searched the room three times, and still he found nothing.

  "What could the Prophet have hidden in here?" He dropped down onto the cot. A cloud of dust rose. "Think, Ruan, He must have had a reason for being here. But what could he have been doing here for so long? I must be missing something?"

  His eyes drifted across the room once more. At first, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was covered in dust. Then he saw it. A smile crossed his face as his eyes fell upon the carpet. Everything in the room was covered with a thin layer of dust, except for the carpet. Setting the lamp down, he grabbed hold of the rug and pulled it back.

  "A trapdoor," Ruan breathed.

  Coming to his feet, he grabbed the iron ring set in the floor and gave a firm tug. The trapdoor would not budge. If Torcull can do it, so can I. Then he planted a foot on either side of the trapdoor, he snatched up the ring the ring in both hands. Bracing himself, he took a deep breath, then heaved. Veins along his arms and legs stood out. Ruan groaned. Painfully and slowly, the trapdoor came up. The smell of old stale air rushed up to meet him. Carefully, Ruan lowered the door off to one side. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

  Torcull must be stronger then he looks to lift that trapdoor.

  Breathing heavily, he retrieved the lantern from the dresser top. Holding the light over the black hole in the floor, Ruan stared down at a ladder that vanished into the blackness below. He leaned close and listened. Ruan could hear nothing. He swung himself into the hole and climbed down into the dark. Not sure that the ancient-looking ladder could hold his weight, the lord slowl
y descended, carefully testing each rung before putting all his weight on it. It was a long process, but at last, he reached the bottom of the ladder. Letting go of the last rung, Ruan found himself standing on an uneven stone floor. Before Ruan was a vaulted tunnel that slanted deeper into the cold earth. Trying to pierce the darkness, he held the lantern above his head. The light helped only a little as the lamp created a small circle of light and beyond that the darkness held firm.

  Taking a deep breath, Ruan descended. The tunnel took him below the palace and deeper into the earth. The air was cold and moist. The only sound was his steady breathing and the slapping of his leather boots against the cold, wet stone floor, not even mice or rats appeared to live in the tunnel. Ruan felt entirely alone and yet there was a strange feeling about this dark tunnel. Ruan could not help but feel that an evil lurked in the darkness ahead of him, and his small light was violating this dark nether world.

  Deeper and deeper, Ruan went. Slowly the tunnel grew wider. Slipping on the wet floor, Ruan reached out to the wall, keeping himself from falling. The wall was wet and slimy under his hand. Steadying himself, he wiped off his hand and carefully moved on.

  Abruptly the tunnel came to a stop and opened into a round-shaped room. Ruan stood at the entrance. Like the tunnel, the room had a rounded arched ceiling that was made of roughly cut stone. The walls were smooth but dry, and the room itself had only two features to it. Against the far wall was a desk, and in the center of the room was a well.