“Rynn, let me ask you something. Have you considered your options?”
Rynn frowned. “I don’t follow you.”
“Do you really want to be a cleric? From what I know of you, that life would bore you. You do realise that becoming a cleric means no women?”
“So?”
“So, I’ve seen the way you looked at Kithia before.” The lock clicked open. “There, I haven’t lost my touch.”
“Let’s not mention Kithia. I will follow whatever path Ardan decides for me.” Rynn glanced at the door. “We can’t go in there.”
“You stay here then, but I’m eager to see what’s inside. It’s not like anyone is going to mind. Aren’t you a little curious?” Varayan opened the door to reveal a staircase spiralling down into darkness.
Rynn did not want to think about what old Ranesch would say if he caught him exploring beyond the forbidden door. Still, a part of him was eager to see what had been hidden away from them for so long. “We won’t be able to see down there anyway.”
Varayan smirked and produced a candle from his pocket followed by a small tinderbox. “Now we can.”
“Where did you get those?” demanded Rynn.
“I found them in one of the rooms we searched,” replied Varayan nonchalantly. He lit the candle and then handed it to the acolyte, who looked unimpressed in the flickering light. Placing the tinderbox back in his pocket, Varayan grabbed the candle off Rynn and headed through the doorway.
Rynn watched for a moment as he vanished down the staircase and then, with a heavy sigh, swiftly followed. The two found that the staircase spiralled down to a cellar that Rynn never knew existed. They passed through an archway and discovered a large chamber where hundreds of parchments were rolled up and stored on shelves. Varayan opened one parchment and quickly tossed it back onto the shelf, finding it to be simply writings of a religious nature, which had no purpose for him.
They passed through this chamber and into another. Varayan immediately noticed several sacks heaped on top of each other in one corner and then the candlelight reflected off something ahead of them. Stepping closer, they saw against the far wall two metal containers; large chests that each had a padlock protecting what lay inside. Varayan once more handed Rynn the candle and told him to stand close so that he could see what he was doing, then he produced the lockpicks and set to work.
“These padlocks are very old and very rusty,” grimaced Varayan as he struggled with the mechanism in the first.
“We should not be opening these,” whispered Rynn. “Obviously they were kept here for a reason.”
Varayan seemed not to hear him and finally the lock opened with a loud click that echoed throughout the eerie cellar. Carefully, Varayan ran his finger along the edge of the container and then studied it closely, checking every corner and surface.
“What are you doing?” Rynn asked, perplexed by the strange behaviour.
“Checking for traps,” came the unexpected answer. “I’ve learnt that if something is locked away in such a container and is valuable, often people have traps built into it to…deter thieves.”
“I doubt these will be trapped somehow.”
“You never know, Rynn. Better to be safe than sorry.” Happy that there were no traps to be found, Varayan opened the first container.
Pulling back a velvet cover, he peered inside and made out several bottles filled with a dark liquid. Beneath these lay what appeared to be elegant white robes. Carefully, he picked up one of the bottles and opened it. Putting his nose to it, he smiled.
“It seems that your clerics liked the stronger spirits. This is brandy.”
Rynn shrugged. “All the bottles are full so I doubt they ever touched a drop.”
“Perhaps there used to be more bottles,” chuckled Varayan.
He resealed the bottle and placed it back with the others. Leaning down further, he moved the robes aside and stopped as he saw a small pouch at the bottom of the container. His fingers touched the sides of the pouch and he felt the familiar shape of coins inside. Looking over his shoulder at Rynn, he nodded towards the second chest. “Let’s see what’s in this one.”
As Rynn moved away, Varayan picked up the pouch and placed it in his pocket in one quick motion. He then closed the first chest and moved to unlock the second. As he was struggling with the rusted mechanism, a shout echoed down into the cellar.
“That sounded like Corporal Ilkar,” Rynn said. “He must be looking for us.”
The second lock clicked open and Varayan quickly made his surface examination again. He then opened the chest and peered inside. “This one’s just full of more parchments,” he announced, his tone indicating his disappointment.
Rynn moved to look over Varayan’s shoulder. “Why would they have locked up some parchments?” As he looked down into the chest, his eyes were strangely drawn to a rolled up parchment, tied with a red ribbon and sealed with wax. This was different to the rest and he found that he could not easily pull his gaze away from it.
Again, a shout echoed from above and this time it was clearer.
“Come on. It’s best Ilkar does not find us down here.” Varayan moved to shut the chest but Rynn reached out and stopped him.
“Wait, there’s something I wish to take from here,” said the acolyte softly.
He handed the candle to Varayan and then scooped up the sealed scroll. As he did so, he became aware of a second scroll, this time bound with a blue ribbon. He did not even stop to wonder how he knew it was there when it was at the very bottom of the chest, out of sight. Instead, he reached in again and found it first time.
Then the two of them were swiftly away, heading back through the cellar and up the spiral staircase into the temple above. They were surprised to hear the sound of metal upon metal from outside the temple and, as Varayan closed the door to the cellar, Ilkar came into view from around the corner.
“We must flee this place now,” he cried, beckoning to them. He held his sword in one hand and his shield, which had been with his horse, in the other. As they approached him, both Rynn and Varayan noticed the cut on Ilkar’s left cheek.
“What is happening?” Rynn asked him as they raced down the corridor towards the inner doors.
“The invaders are here in Boraila. A number of them surprised us outside. My men are trying to hold them but we are fighting a losing battle. I must make sure that you get away and back to Turambar.”
“What of the clerics?” asked Varayan, his knife already in his hand.
“Both of you focus on getting to your horses,” ordered Ilkar, purposefully ignoring the question. “They are at the stable. Once you have them, ride for Turambar and do not look back. The invaders do not have horses so you have the advantage there.”
Rynn and Varayan glanced at each other. They had hoped for this to be over but they were about to once again try to avoid these vicious soldiers. Images of Barentin and Tamriel entered their minds.
“Stay close,” Varayan said to the pale acolyte.
Then, they were out into the temple courtyard and ahead of them was an all-too familiar scene. The black forms of the invading soldiers were locked in combat with Ilkar’s men, who were desperately trying to stop them from entering the temple grounds. As they neared the struggle, they saw two of Ilkar’s men lying motionless behind their comrades. There was a narrow gap for them to slip through.
“Now go,” yelled Ilkar, pushing them both towards the gap in the outer doors.
Varayan darted through and turned to see Rynn following him. The two of them stood for a split second, held mesmerized by the brutal scenario unfolding before them. Ilkar leapt into combat alongside Halian, driving an invader back with his shield. As Varayan ran for the horses, Rynn noticed a lone figure behind the black warriors who seemed to become aware of the acolyte at the same time. Even though there was too much happening between them and Rynn could not see the man’s features, he shuddered when he saw him. As he heard Varayan call his name, he found that h
e could not tear his gaze away and he took a step. He wanted to run and flee but his body would not listen to him and he took another step forward, drawing closer to the battle. In his mind, something spoke to him and as much as he tried to resist, he could only listen to it telling him to keep walking.
“Rynn, what are you doing?” Varayan grasped Rynn by the arm and pulled him away from the battle.
Rynn looked at him, blinking as if he had just been woken from a deep sleep. “I…I don’t know what…”
“Never mind, just get on your horse and let’s get out of this place.” Varayan dragged him to the stable and helped him onto his horse, then mounted himself.
Rynn shook his head. There was no other voice in his head now and he dared not glance back as he spurred his horse away. Varayan rode up alongside him and together they made their way around the back of the temple and onto the path, turning east and riding hard for the hill’s apex. Varayan glanced back once. He had made sure that he had shielded Rynn from seeing the open grave that he had found as he secured their horses. The sight had left him sickened and he had needed to make sure Rynn did not see the fate of his order.
Behind them, Ilkar watched them ride out of view and then rejoined the futile battle.
“Varayan, it is late and I am tired,” said Rynn, feeling as though he may drop from his saddle at any moment.
Varayan was feeling the same but was determined to keep going until they reached Turambar. It was still another half a day’s travel though and the horses had not had much chance to rest either. They had passed the road leading to Boraila just minutes before and their tired eyes had noticed distant lights in the darkness. Now they rode slowly under the stars with the ominous forest to one side and tall grass to the other. Their tired eyes kept playing tricks on them and they would jump at a moving shadow only to realise it to be a tree or bush waving in the breeze.
“We can’t stop to rest. We have to get back to the fortress. We’ll be safe there.”
“Corporal Ilkar said that the invaders were in Boraila. Do you think he meant the city or just the temple?”
“I believe he meant the city itself. Where else would those men have come from?”
Rynn’s voice became suddenly panicked. “If that is so then what will have happened to the people…the entire population of the city?”
Varayan sighed. “I don’t know.” He looked back and saw that Rynn’s horse had halted. “Listen, we can’t do anything ourselves. It’s like Gorric and Khir in that they are desperate to find their families too but until the kingdom musters men to retaliate, we cannot do anything more.”
Rynn opened his mouth as if to speak again but he hesitated and turned his head to look back down the road instead. “I hear something.”
Varayan listened carefully and sure enough he heard the sound of a rider approaching from the north, behind them. “Get off your horse and hide.”
The two of them dismounted clumsily and led their horses off the road and into the shadows of the forest. They waited nervously as the rider came nearer. The horse was being spurred on hard. After another minute, the rider came into view, sitting low in the saddle. Varayan suddenly smiled then moved out of their cover, much to Rynn’s dismay, and the rider drew to a halt.
Corporal Ilkar looked down at Varayan in weary surprise. “Where is Rynn?”
“Hiding,” replied Varayan. “We thought you to be someone else. How did you escape?”
Ilkar glanced warily back down the road. “We should not linger here. They will have sent men after me, I am sure, but I must speak with Captain Sarin. As I rode past the fork, I saw a force moving this way. They must have come from Boraila.”
Rynn appeared from the foliage. “We saw some lights in the distance but how do you know it to be an enemy force?”
“I do not, but we can’t be taking any chances after this latest development at the temple. We must ride on, even if these animals perish in doing so.”
“That is not your horse,” noted Rynn.
“No, this is Halian’s. I could not reach my horse and Halian fell at the temple along with the rest of the men.”
“I am sorry, corporal.” Rynn noticed a bleeding cut on Ilkar’s thigh. “You are wounded.”
Ilkar shook his head. “It is not serious. Mount up and I will see us safely to Turambar.”
As Varayan and Rynn wearily clambered back onto their horses, a roll of thunder echoed across the skies in the distance to the north.
“What of the invaders at the temple?” Varayan asked Ilkar as they began riding south again.
“We killed only three. One tried to grapple me from this horse as I rode past and paid dearly.” He looked down at the empty scabbards where his two daggers had once been and recalled seeing the look of shock in the foreigners’ eyes as he had stabbed first one and then the other into his neck.
“What of the other man?” asked Rynn. “The one who stood back from the battle.”
Ilkar shuddered. “He simply watched. I would not have dared approach him. Something in those alien eyes told me he was the most dangerous of them all.”
Rynn hoped never to see that strange man again but something in him led him to believe that it was not the last time their paths would cross.
Together, the three of them rode away into the night, eager to be away from the encounter at the temple but understanding that a greater power was gathering in the north of the kingdom.
Chapter 16
Draliak held the sword up before him, looking along its smooth blade. He recalled the Rotian who had wielded the weapon and remembered being surprised at the man’s skill. He wondered how many others he would fight who could offer such a challenge. As he heard footsteps approaching from behind, he sheathed the weapon and turned.
“You still carry that sword, commander?” asked Balthus, a curious look on his face.
“I will not wield it in combat but I carry it as a mark of respect for a worthy opponent.”
Balthus smiled. “It is not a trophy then of your victory?”
Draliak stared into the mocking eyes of the invoker. “What do you want, Balthus?”
“We are close to the river fortress I understand.”
“Yes, it lies just to the south.”
“Has Saroth left yet?”
“Not yet, no. He leaves us soon and we will then follow a short distance behind.”
Balthus looked past Draliak into the dark forest and then glanced south along the road to Turambar. “How can we be so sure that Saroth will succeed?” he asked Draliak.
“If you knew Saroth, you would not need to ask that question.”
“You must forgive my doubts, commander, but when the success of this attack hinges on one man, concerns enter my mind. Saroth is to gain entry to the fortress and yet the structure was designed so that this could not be done. How does he plan to do this?”
“The outer wall of the fortress is not smooth and this alone will make entry relatively easy.” Saroth emerged from the darkness to join them. “If the wall was completely flat, scaling it would prove difficult but when there are small niches to aid my ascent, it makes my task that much simpler.”
“Once inside though, what is your plan?” Balthus asked him, unphased by the assassin’s sudden appearance.
“The gate is controlled from a single room which should prove easy enough to access. I have no doubt that Rotian soldiers will attempt to block my route but I am not concerned.”
Balthus studied his face briefly. “I wish you luck then.”
Saroth turned to Draliak. “Commander, it is time for me to leave.”
“Very well. As agreed, we will follow shortly.”
“The gate will be open by the time you arrive,” stated Saroth. He then turned without another word and vanished into the night.
Draliak took in a deep breath of the cold air and looked back at where his men waited patiently. The large company of soldiers stood in formation awaiting their next orders and the anticipation o
f the imminent battle was apparent in their faces. They numbered three hundred and the strength of the river fortress was reported to be not even one hundred Rotian soldiers. With the element of surprise working to their advantage, the Shada-Kavielians would see a swift victory.
“Will we be taking more prisoners, commander?”
Draliak turned his gaze back onto Balthus. “Sephonis did not believe that these men would surrender easily. I do not think we will be taking many prisoners from this battle.”
“As in Barentin and Tamriel, would you have me accompany you?”
Draliak shook his head. “The fortress design will force us into close quarters quickly. I will be leading the main attack through the gate. I want you to stay back and only enter the fortress once we have subdued their numbers. It will be safer.”
Balthus put a hand to his scar. “I will not be making the same mistake twice, commander. As you wish though, I will wait until it is safe to enter.”
Draliak and Balthus turned southwards and for a moment both stood silent in thought. Then Draliak spun and strode back to his men leaving the invoker alone in the darkness.
Gorric emerged from the mess hall into the lantern-lit courtyard of Turambar and looked up at the line of soldiers manning the walls. He saw Sarin moving amongst the men, peering out over the walls as he walked. The captain was dressed in his battle armour, which reflected a nearby lantern giving him an orange glow. Gorric glanced down once to make sure that his sword hung neatly at his side and then headed up to join Sarin.
“You asked for me, captain?”
Sarin, who was looking out to the darkness of the north, turned his head slowly and regarded Gorric with concerned eyes. “Yes, I did. I wish you to leave Turambar at once and head for the capital with your young friends.”
Gorric’s face darkened. “I have already requested to stay here. Why do you now insist we leave?”
“Because there is something very wrong on the north bank of the Ulmerien, Gorric.” Sarin stared out again into the darkness. “Ilkar’s report of the invaders in Boraila has unsettled all of my men and the fact that my scouts have still not returned leads me to believe that they are dead or captured. If these invaders are marching this way, then we should take every precaution and that includes getting you safely away.”
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