"Not in those exact words, but yes. Can you think of a better way to get inside?" Pallas nodded his head towards the Temple of the Severed Head. The iron-barred gate was no more than forty yards from their hiding place. The Grey walls of the temple stood thirty feet high, and every few minutes a silhouette of a guard could be seen walking along the parapet.
"Look at that thing." Pallas went on, pointing at the temple. "It is a bloody fortress, and guarded as if they're expecting a full out attack. We cannot afford to wait, Colin. Elwin and Aidan are in there somewhere, and they might not make it through the night. We have to try. If we walk up to the gate like we're not trying to hide anything, and tell the guards that we want to join the Black Army, well, maybe they'll let us in."
"And maybe not. This is suicide." Colin rose to his feet. "But you are right. I cannot think of a better way."
"I can."
Whirling about, Colin and Pallas saw a dark shadow. To their surprise, the ominous shadow turned out to the inn keep, Ned. Stepping out of the dark, Ned no longer looked like the owner of the Silver Thorn, the innkeeper had gone through a complete transformation. His spotless white apron had vanished from around his waist. Instead, he now wore brown leather armor that appeared worn and weathered from the passage of many years. Around his waist swung a sheath and sword and strapped to each of the innkeeper's wrists was a polished bronze wrist guard.
"Ned?!" both Colin and Pallas said at the same time. "Is that you?"
"Yes," the innkeeper grumbled, "it is me, though it should not be. Breaking into the temple? I must be as touched in the head as you two boys... Maybe more. I know some of what waits inside. You at least have the advantage of being ignorant."
"What are you doing here?" asked Colin, "I thought you wanted to keep clear of this. That is what you said."
"Still, do, but I guess I like you, boys. Stupid reason to die over, but at the moment it's the best I can come up with. Besides, if the boy in there really is Prince Elwin, well, let's just say I have to go in there."
"Where did you get that armor and sword? Are you really an innkeeper?" Pallas asked, eyeing the man up and down. "You look more like a soldier to me."
"Yes," he snapped, "I am an innkeeper. Now enough of these foolish questions. We have an ugly job ahead of us." Shaking his head, he sighed, "By the Three Gods, I thought I was done with this sort of thing."
"Can you get us past the gate?" Pallas gave the temple a quick glance. "It looks pretty formidable to me with all those guards around."
"Maybe. It is a really old castle. It's where the kings of Cluain once lived before the new castle was built, and those guards aren't really looking this way, and for good reasons. They don't expect anyone to try to get in. Who would be dumb enough to break into the temple? Well, other than us that is. No, they are not there to keep us out but to keep people in and other things as well. Things that we best not talk about."
Pallas gave the temple a nervous look. "What do you mean by 'other things'?"
"I fear, you will see soon enough. Let’s see if my old mind remembers this remnant of the past. Follow me." With that, Ned headed off at a slow trot. Keeping low to the ground and close to the shadows, he led them around to the far side of the temple. Even this close, Colin and Pallas had trouble seeing Ned moving amongst the dark shadows. The innkeeper now turned warrior seemed like a shadow himself, moving with the soft whisper of the moonless night.
"There." Crouching low to the ground, Ned pointed at a big old tree that stood not ten feet from the base of the wall. Reaching out over the parapet, one of the tree's large branches angled up and over the wall. "That is our way in."
"Why would they leave something like that standing?" wondered Colin out loud. "Anyone can see that it could be used to gain access to the courtyard. With a small force, the whole place could be quickly overrun."
Ned smiled, "Like I said, this is not a place to keep people out, but to keep 'em in. This is the Temple of the Severed Head, boy. Nobody in his right mind would be attempting to do what we're about to try."
Hiding in the shadows, the three waited, counting how much time elapsed between the passing of one guard and the arrival of the next.
A guard passed before underneath the tree, then vanished down the wall. "Okay," Ned ordered. "Let's go. We don't have much time."
Leading the way, Ned scampered out across the open ground to the base of the tree. Without waiting, the innkeeper leaped to the lower branches, and like a man half his age pulled himself upwards until he was seating above the wall.
"Okay," he whispered once the youths had caught up to him, "No more talking. We will wait here until the next guard passes. Then try to keep up."
Holding their breaths, they could see the next guard coming down the wall. Like Ned had said, the man was watching the courtyard more than the outside of the wall. Passing below, the guard never saw the three sitting in the tree above him.
Once the guard had passed, Ned crawled out onto the large branch that hung over the wall, and before another guard could appear, he dropped down to the wall then to the courtyard below. A small outbuilding situated not far from the main hall stood close by. Hoping no one was watching, the three threw caution to the wind and raced across the open bailey.
With his back to the building, Ned slid his sword from its sheath. Turning, he reached for the door, but before he could grab the handle the door unexpectedly opened. A short figure appeared before him. It's head a size too large for its short, thick and muscular body. The face on the unusually large head was not that of a human. Its face was flat, distorted, and ugly and it had a jaundiced color to it. Surprised, its two bulging yellow eyes shot open. With sharp jagged teeth, his mouth opened just as the hilt of Ned's sword smashed into the creature's grotesque face. The creature retreated back into the room, taking several steps before it pitched backward, crashing to the floor. Bursting into the room, Ned's sword swung into motion. Two more of the creatures leaped to their feet, their large nostrils flaring. The first was dead before it had drawn its weapon; the second died shortly after, pierced cleanly through the heart by the innkeeper's deadly blade.
Colin and Pallas had not moved. With two dead creatures and one unconscious at their feet, the two youths stood frozen by what they had just seen. With their mouths hanging open, they had not even drawn their swords.
"Get in here!" Ned snapped. When they did not move fast enough, the innkeeper grabbed the boys and dragged them inside, closing the door behind them.
Seeing them staring at the two dead creatures, Ned rested a hand on their shoulders. His scowl vanished from his face and was replaced with a look of understanding concern, and with a softness to his voice, he said, "It is never pretty. Now you know why I wanted you and your friends to go home and why I am now an innkeeper. The world can be an ugly place."
"I thought this was going be a grand adventure," Pallas said shaking his head. "I never thought..." he let his voice trail off.
"If you believe such," replied Ned. "Then take a good long look at this and remember. War is too horrible a thing to ever think of as a glorious or grand adventure. And make no mistake boys, this is war."
Pallas leaned against the wall. "I do not think I could kill anything. Even something as ugly as that."
Ned's eyes turned hard. "You'd better! I don't want to find a knife in my back because you did not want to kill something. This is a dirty, disgusting, horrifying business. Don't you ever forget that! Killing anything is a disgusting thing and should never come easily, but in this place you had better be ready to kill, and kill fast. There are worse things in here than Hobgoblins, and they will kill you on sight, and love doing it."
"Hobgoblins?" asked Colin. "Hobgoblins are children's stories."
"Poppycock," replied Ned. "Do those things look like children’s stories? I guess next you'll be telling me that Elves aren't real either, like your friend who's somewhere in here with that young and foolish prince."
"You know that Aidan is
an Elf?" asked Pallas. “Few this far south even believe in Elves.”
"Old Ned has been around, boys," he said, answering their surprised looks. "I know an Elf when I see one."
Colin looked up from the dead Hobgoblins. "You're a sword master, aren't you?"
"Hobgoblins are nasty creatures. However, they are also bit slow between the ear. It took them too long to realize what was happening." Ned replied, neither confirming nor denying Colin's question. "Now, let's wakeup this nice-looking fellow over here and see what he can tell us."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"You're coming to bed late," stated Eilidh.
"Yes, I know," answered Ruan.
It was their first night home since fleeing up the Clwyd River, and Ruan was restless and more than a bit uneasy. Ruan sat on the edge of their bed and began to undress.
"We made it up the river," stated Eilidh, "and you now need to get your rest." She rolled over, propping herself up onto an elbow. Even in the candlelight, she could see that he was worried about something. She gave a soft sigh; Ruan was always worrying about something.
"You did not sleep much on the river. But we are home now; you can rest."
"Home," he echoed the word softly as if he were unsure of its meaning. "Perhaps, but for how long? We have managed to escape Gildas, but it was a fool's run, Eilidh." He looked down at her. She looked so comfortable and warm among the fur covers. He wished that he could crawl in with her and forget all about his troubles. For a while, it would even work. However, that would not make King Jerran's army go away. Looking down at the floor, he sighed. "It may have been a mistake to come back here. I fear that we will all be taken back to Gildas and put in chains, if not something worse."
"We had to come here. We could not leave our daughter and go somewhere else."
"Yes, but now we are trapped, or soon will be. Jerran's army will be here in less than ten days at the most. I do not think I did our daughter any good. Maia would have been better off if I had stayed away."
"Ruan!" Eilidh sat up. "How can you say such a thing? She is your daughter!" The fur covers fell into her lap.
"And I have done nothing for her but put her in danger," he said, shaking his head. "You know that I love her. But you do not understand the things Torcull is capable of."
Laying back down, Eilidh shivered. She pulled the covers up over her shoulders. "I do have an idea of what Torcull is capable of. I saw what he did to Conrad. King Conrad’s mind is gone. Only little Horik seems able to reach him." She edged closer to Ruan. "I do not wish that on Maia or anyone else, but we are in Keloran now and behind her walls. The city is well supplied. We can withstand a siege."
Ruan pulled his nightshirt over his head. "For a while, but the Strigiol army is not like the Rock Trolls from the Drygan mountains. This army will be well organized and well supplied. And using the river, they can resupply, we cannot. They can wait us out and in the end, the city will fall. And if there is a Red Robe with the army, there will not be a siege or at least not a long one. We must leave here, Eilidh. We must leave tomorrow. We will take the queen, the prince, the king, and our daughter, along with anyone else Torcull would see as a threat and we will flee."
"Leave?" she frowned. "We just got here."
"I know that you do not wish to go. But we have no actual army. We cannot win, Eilidh. If we stay, the city will fall, and all of our people will suffer for it. So, we must leave and we must do it before Jerran's army can trap us."
"But where will we go. Galway?"
"No. Galway would be no better than here, and Easland is out of the question. I have seen what has become of that kingdom. It is no place I want to go to again. To the Kingdom of the lakes," he mused. "But they too have lost their independence. To the west is Ceredigion and Parlan, Jerran's puppet king. That too is no place for us."
"Then where?"
"Mythra. Somehow, we will have to reach Mythra. It was a mistake going north. Mythra is the last kingdom still holding out against Strigiol's power grab. Maybe we can help them in their fight. Maybe with King Conrad’s reputation, if we can keep his mental health a secret, and along with the young Prince Horik, we can gather an army. But first, we have to get to Mythra."
"Mythra? It is so far, Ruan. Can we make it?"
He shook his head. "I don't know, but it is the last safe place in Kambrya. It will be a dangerous trip. But we have to try. First, we will have to find a way to disguise ourselves so that we can slip past any army outposts. We will try heading West through Ceredigion where we can get a ship to take us down the coast to Mythra."
Looking up at Ruan, Eilidh felt as if she wanted to cry. "Then what?"
Ruan climbed into the bed next to her and pulled the covers over him. "We will let it be known that the prince and king are there. We will try to build an army. We will do what we can."
"Civil war?"
Ruan nodded.
"Oh, Ruan."
He rolled over and kissed his wife. Then turning the other way, he blew out the candle.
"Tomorrow we will make our plans. Then we will have to move fast." Without saying anything, Eilidh curled up next to him and held him close.
Cradling Eilidh's head against his chest, Ruan laid awake for several hours. Even if he could reach Mythra and managed to build an army, he had no way of stopping the Red Robes and the Black Army. What had Armies had done for Easland. He looked at his sleeping wife and wondered what would become of her and their daughter. The idea was too painful to even think about. Holding Eilidh a little tighter, Ruan closed his eyes and tried to think of an answer.
With a start, Ruan discovered that he was staring into a gray fog. "Am I dreaming?" he asked himself. "I must have fallen asleep." He tried to wake himself up. "Strange that I should know that this is a dream."
The fog suddenly started to change and began to lift. Ruan found himself standing on a mountain trail. Up ahead he saw something move. Someone was coming down the trail.
Quickly, Ruan stepped off the path and into the trees.
Ruan crept deeper into the woods and hid, through the trees, he could clearly see the trail and the figure coming towards him. Ruan swallowed. Whatever it was it had a human form, but it was clearly not human. His head was deformed and appeared like that of a black Jackal. Its doglike head swung from side to side as if it was looking for something. Leaning on a crooked staff, the dog man stopped. It lifted its head and looked into the woods.
This is a dream. It has to be a dream. Ruan crouched lower, hoping that the thing would not see him. Sniffing the air, the dog man looked one way, then another.
Hiding in the trees, Ruan felt his heart begin to beat faster. This is a Dream, blast it! This cannot be happening. The dog man sniffed the air again, then shaking its strange head, it turned away and vanished down the trail.
After several minutes, Ruan quietly crept back out of the woods. Not sure what he should do, he headed in the opposite direction in which the dogman had gone.
How did I get here? And where is here? He shook his head, in confusion. Nothing made any sense. Think! I was in Keloran... I know I was. Ruan followed the trail up the side of a steep, sloping mountainside. Aspen and pine trees lined the steep switch-backed trail that wound its way upwards. Through the branches, he could glimpse a mountain peak. The mountain looks vaguely familiar, but he could not get a good enough look to be sure. It was as if he had seen this mountain peak before, but never from this trail or place. As he came over a rise, the ground flattened out. Before him was a small clearing. At the far side of the flower-filled meadow was a small waterfall. Running down the side of a cliff face, the falls made a gurgling splashing sound as it flowed over mossy rocks to form a pool of cold mountain water. Above the falls was an ancient looking stone bridge, part of some long-abandoned road system. The pool, falls, and bridge made a picturesque world of tranquil harmony. Walking across the meadow, Ruan gazed above the tree line, he now had a clear view of the mountain peak and in the not too far distance were se
veral more mountain peaks.
I know where I am, he suddenly realized as he came up to the edge of the clear pool. I am in the Northern Dragon Mountains. Ruan spun around taking in the mountain ranges. He had not recognized the mountain peak earlier because he had never seen it from this angle before. He now realized that he was far into the mountains, farther than he had ever been before. This was Troll and Hobgoblin country. He reached for his sword, but it was not there. Searching for dangers in the forest the surrounded him, yet he saw only tall trees that encircled the small clearing. It was a peaceful place. Quiet, he thought. It is quiet here. I must be dreaming, but it feels so real. He looked down at himself. He was dressed in his leather riding clothes.
"What kind of dream is this?" he whispered. "It feels too real." Ruan turned back to the pool. Something was different from his other dreams. Everything was so alive and vivid. All of his senses were responding to the world around him. He could even feel the cold mountain breeze on his face.
Crouching, he cupped some water in his hands and drank. It tasted cold and refreshing. I just need to think. I know these mountains; at least the southernmost parts of them. If I head south, I will find something familiar. Then I can find my way out of the mountains and back to Keloran.
"Eilidh!" He suddenly remembered that his wife and daughter were still in Keloran and that Jerran's army was coming. "I have to get back before it is too late!"
He lunged back to his feet. I have to hurry! He looked at the mountains once more. It will take weeks to reach Keloran. I won't make it in time. Oh, Lord, I am too late!
"What?!" Before him, he saw the surface of the pool of water move. Taking a step back, Ruan gasped.
Something broke the surface of the water. Ruan's eyes went wide. Slowly, the top of a head rose out of the water. Ruan back away. A face appeared. Stumbling backward, Ruan lost his balance and fell, scraping his arm on a sharp rock. Ignoring the blood on his arm, he scrambled back to his feet. His heart raced. Connected to the head was a neck, and then a pair of shoulders emerged from the pool's cold surface.
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