Into Oblivion (Book 4)

by Shawn E. Crapo

  The priests made their way to the cliff face, going along its edge to keep out of the moonlight. Hamal followed, keeping his eye out for any openings in the rocky face. A few yards ahead, the cliff took a right turn toward the north, and the group paused to peer around the corner.

  A large lagoon was on this side of the island. Trees surrounded the shore, and seemed to be clustered around what looked to be a path into the rock face. There were docks constructed here, and a few small buildings—probably inception offices—on either side of the main dock. The windows were dark, indicating the buildings were most likely empty.

  The small company crouched in the shadows, scanning the port for any sings of movement. Though nothing was obvious, there would be no way of getting there without being spotted. The moonlight shined directly on the west facing cliff, offering no concealment for stealthy passage.

  Hamal sighed. “There is no way we can get there unseen,” he said. “Unless we swim quietly.”

  “There,” a priest said, pointing toward the largest of the buildings. “There is a guard. I see no one else. Perhaps you can hit him from here with your bow.”

  Hamal followed the priest’s direction, spotting the solitary guard. Judging from this distance, it would be a difficult shot, but he had confidence he could make it. He pulled out his bow and two arrows, knocking one and sticking the other point down in the sand.

  “Just in case,” he said.

  He stared at the guard for a moment longer to judge the distance and wind speed. The air seemed to be calm, as the guard’s scarves and hair remained still. Hamal pulled back his bow, taking careful aim and compensating for the distance. When he was confident enough, he let loose.

  The arrow sailed silently through the night air, catching the guard just below the jaw. He dropped his spear, falling to his knees, and quietly rolled off the dock into the water.

  “Excellent shot, my lord,” a priest said.

  “Thank you,” Hamal said, retrieving his remaining arrow. “We will go along the cliff face. Keep your eyes open for any guards.”

  The priests nodded and the company proceeded. They kept to the shadows as much as possible, crawling behind rocks when necessary. No movement was seen anywhere near the docks other than the gentle lapping of waves and the swaying of the palm trees.

  When they had come within fifty yards of the port, they stopped to further scan the area. Hamal peered into shadows for several minutes, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  “I would think there would be guards posted around the entrance,” Hamal said. “They would be in full view of the path from the docks. We could sneak through the trees.”

  “Those trees won’t offer much cover,” a priest said. “We will have to rely on the shadows in their midst.”

  “Go,” Hamal said.

  The group made a quick dash to the tree line, relieved to see that there were, indeed, some bushes and shrubs that would provide a small amount of cover. Looking into the grove, Hamal could see that other shrubs were scattered around the trees. They could move from bush to bush if need be.

  With a nod from Hamal, the priests crept into the grove, keeping to the shadows of the trees and crouching behind the brush. The grove was small, just large enough to conceal them for the remainder of their trek toward the prison’s entrance. There was little underbrush, which allowed them to approach quietly.

  Toward the far edge of the grove, the group stopped, seeing the entrance come into view. The door was thick and wooden, crisscrossed with supporting bands of iron. The doorway was reinforced with stone blocks around it, and a large, glowing censer hung above it, shining its white light down onto the two guards that were posted outside.

  “Only two,” Hamal said, smiling. “This should be easy.”

  “Arrows?” a priest suggested.

  Hamal shook his head, drawing two throwing knives from his belt. “These will be better,” he said, moving up closer to get a clear shot. “And I can throw both of them at the same time.”

  Hamal gripped his knives by the blades, holding them up in front of his face to aim. The priests held their breath in anticipation.

  “Draw your weapons in case I miss,” Hamal said.

  With a quick release of breath, Hamal flung both knives. They spun end over end with a whoosh, burying themselves in the heads of their targets. Both guards fell to the ground with little sound. The priests quickly rushed to the pathway and dragged the guards into the grove.

  Hamal chuckled, retrieving his knives. “Are you ready, brothers?”

  The priests nodded as Hamal searched the bodies. He exclaimed out loud when he found a key, showing it to the priests in triumph. The group crept out of the grove, searching the area for other guards. The priests stood watch as Hamal peered into the barred window and fumbled with the lock. With an audible click, the door was unlocked and Hamal opened it enough to peer inside.

  The corridor was dim, lit only with the glow of a few magical sconces. It was long and straight, and disappeared into the darkness further in. Hamal motioned for the priests to follow him, and then locked the door behind them.

  No need to rouse any suspicion.

  Hamal drew his new sword, silently padding down the hallway. Every six feet or so, alcoves were placed; each one sporting a sconce that was bolted to the wall. The alcoves were deep enough to duck into, should the need arise. Ahead, another door appeared out of the gloom. It was also wooden, but thinner and unlocked.

  Hamal peered through the barred window, seeing shadows moving across the walls. He also heard voices nearby. Jindala voices.

  “I cannot wait until my tenure is over,” one of the voices said. “I long to see the sands of home once again.”

  “I hate the desert,” the other said. “I wanted to go to Eirenoch, but this island is alright, I suppose. There’s just not enough action for my taste.”

  “You are far too old for action, my friend.”

  Hamal chuckled, signaling the priests to take cover in the alcoves. He knew the guards would come through the corridor; probably to relieve the guards posted outside the entrance. He took an alcove for himself, and the group waited.

  The door opened with a clank and the guards came through. Hamal and the priests pressed themselves against walls of their alcoves, waiting for the guards to pass.

  “I am only five years older than you, you disrespectful bastard,” the older guard said. The other burst into laughter.

  As they passed, Hamal’s heartbeat quickened. But, before he could act, the priests melted out of the shadows and eliminated the guards with quick neck-breaking twists of their heads. They dragged the guards into their alcoves and stuffed them into the shadowy corners.

  “Impressive,” Hamal said.

  He returned to the door and listened for any further approaches. When he was satisfied, he slowly opened the door and peeked through, scanning the hallways in either direction. He looked back to the priests and nodded, and slipped through the door.

  “We should split up,” he whispered. “My sword will point me in Jadhav’s direction. You four should go in different directions and free as many prisoners as possible.”

  The priests nodded, deciding whom should go where, and then disappeared into the shadows. Hamal followed two of them, his sword having shown him that Jadhav was in that direction. As he followed the two priests, his instinct led him to take a passage to the left.

  “Good luck, my brothers,” he whispered into the darkness.

  Soon, he thought, the Raja of Pashir would be freed.

  Garret appeared at the top of a tower amidst a beautiful island night. He peered over the edge of the battlements, looking over the complex that lay below him. It was a prison, he was told, that housed many of the enemies of The Lifegiver; those that could be used as tools in his favor.

  His mission, the Great Mother had told him, was to provide support for a rescue attempt led by the rightful heir to the throne of Khem. There would be a powerful darkness here, and
his task was to eliminate the threat so that Hamal and the priests of Imbra could perform their mission successfully. Without Garret’s aid, the mission could fail.

  The assassin decided to take another approach.

  Being an opponent of any kind of breech of freedom, Garret would eliminate the Jindala presence completely, and liberate the entire prison. It was doubtful that any of the prisoners belonged here anyway.

  Do not stray from your task, Garret.

  Garret was surprised to hear the Great Mother’s voice, but responded almost immediately.

  “I will not,” he said. “The prisoner will be rescued, but the rest of them will be released as well. And I will kill every Jindala on this island.”

  I fear your choices will bring darkness to your heart. I need you to remain pure in spirit.

  “I understand, Mother,” he said. “But my heart is already hardened. You brought me back for a reason, and I will do your bidding. But I have my own will, as you have granted me, and I will follow it.”

  The Great Mother was silent for several minutes. Garret waited patiently for her to respond. She did, finally, saying only one word of warning.

  Enkhatar.

  Garret knew the word; he knew the creature. The Enkhatar had been on Eirenoch, and had killed many people around the world. They were ruthless servants of darkness.

  If they were here, he would destroy them.

  Hamal stumbled upon a row of prison cells. They were three foot high, as long as a man, and stacked three high along the walls of the chamber he found. He held his sword out before him, following its guidance to find the object of his mission.

  Lying casually on his side in a middle cell was a dark-skinned, wavy haired man. He was chewing on something that looked rather unappetizing, and staring at Hamal with curious eyes. Hamal smiled, moving closer to the cell to get a better look at the man.

  “Jadhav?” he asked.

  The man nodded. “I am,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Hamal. I am here to set you free.”

  The man said nothing, but pointed to the cells around him. “I am not leaving unless they, too, are freed.”

  That was exactly what Hamal was expecting to hear. Imbra had said that Jadhav was an honorable man, and would attempt to free the other prisoners. But Hamal had never guessed he would do so at the cost of his own freedom.

  “Tell me how to open the cells, and I will do so… all of them.”

  Jadhav leaned toward the bars, pointing to the door on the opposite wall. “There is a lever on the other side of that door,” he said. “But you must be sure you are ready to fight if you are to pull it.”

  “Why is that?” Hamal asked.

  “You don’t think the Jindala are just going to let you run around their comfy little prison pulling levers, do you?”

  “I suspect not,” Hamal replied.

  “Good. Because once you free this block of prisoners, they will riot and all Hell will break loose. Are you ready for all Hell to break loose?”

  “As far as I am concerned,” Hamal began. “All Hell has already broken loose.”

  Jadhav chuckled. “Then pull the lever, my friend.”

  Hamal immediately went to the door, opening it without hesitation. The lever was right there where Jadhav said it would be. He pulled it without thinking. The bars on each cell fell open, and the prisoners stirred with the noise. Jadhav casually hopped out of his own cell, stretching his back and legs.

  “Ah!” he said. “It feels good to stand up again. Out, you fools!”

  The prisoners dropped out of their cells, each one stretching and chattering in glee.

  “This is Hamal,” Jadhav said to them. “He has freed us. Thank him.”

  The prisoners gathered around Hamal, thanking him in their various languages. He saw people of Khem, Pashir, Thyre, and even a few Northmen.

  “Do you have weapons?” Jadhav asked.

  “I do not,” Hamal answered. “But there is a weapons rack outside the door.”

  Jadhav nodded, leading the freed men through the door. Hamal heard the clank of weapons being drawn from the rack, and the excited chatters of the men as they prepared for their insurrection. Jadhav poked his head through the door.

  “Shall we begin?” he said. Hamal smiled.

  Garret crept through the corridors of the prison, keeping to the shadows that were seemingly abundant. Throughout the incursion, the assassin had felt the presence of the great darkness, and kept his route away from it for the time being. The prisoners would come first, he felt, and then the enemy could be dealt with.

  As he rounded a corner, a doorway along the wall further caught his attention. He heard hurried footsteps and some chattering in the Jindala language. Drawing his saber, he rushed to the side of the door, waiting for the guards to come through. When the two men entered the hallway, Garret sprung from the shadows dispatched them quickly.

  His saber was a flash of steel that danced around the guards, severing their spines in two quick strikes. Before their bodies even hit the floor, the assassin was on the move again.

  Too easy, he chuckled.

  “Sound the alarm!” a Jindala soldier said, seeing the crowd of prisoners rushing at his post. Their faces were twisted in rage, and their howls echoed their mounting insurrection.

  Jadhav and Hamal led the charge, picking up their pace as the guards scrambled to close the heavy steel door. Hamal’s bow went into action, taking down the two men who attempted to block their path. The door was practically knocked off its hinges when the men impacted it.

  As they crowded through the door into the main area of the prison, the sound of bells was heard in the distance. Now the entire prison was alerted to their pending escape, which would make things more difficult for them.

  “Split up,” Hamal said. “Free as many as you can. You all know where the rest of the prisoners are. Liberate them! We will meet on the south side of the island!”

  The men howled in agreement, Jadhav taking half of them down the left corridor, Hamal taking the right.

  “Gather the weapons of the fallen,” Hamal commanded his men. “Give them to the able-bodied and protect those who cannot fight!”

  The Enkhatar looked at the prison courtyard below. The grounds were a bustle of activity, with guards rushing everywhere in a panic. A riot was ensuing, and the chance of prisoner escape was imminent. Glaring at each other, the two dark knights silently conveyed their plan. They would split up and quell the rebellion from opposite sides of the island.

  None would escape.

  Garret heard the bells in the distance, sighing at the inconvenience of the new development. He preferred silent infiltration over outright battle, but now the plan had changed. He would have to find the cell blocks as soon as possible and free as many men as he could.

  The more prisoners he freed, the more chaos he could cause.

  He followed the sounds of chanting prisoners who were still in their cells. Along the walls of a larger hallway, he saw, there were several heavy doors with barred windows. To their left were levers that the assassin assumed would control the cell doors. He peered into the window of one of the doors, seeing the stacked rows of cells that contained the prisoners in cramped quarters.

  Garret rushed along the hallway, pulling the levers and opening the doors in turn. The excited shouts of the men inside rose in a crescendo as he freed each cell block.

  “Go!” he shouted. “Fight for your freedom. Leave none alive!”

  Hamal’s troops charged another group of guards in their quarters. The prisoners mobbed around them, pulling them to the ground and stomping them to pieces with angry shouts. Hamal cheered them on with howls of his own.

  The victorious prisoners looted the bodies of the guards, delegating the weaponry among them and urging Hamal to move on. The prince led them through another set of doors, and the group came upon another cell block.

  It was empty. Someone had freed them.

  “Jadhav
could not have come this way already,” Hamal noted.

  “Perhaps there is another,” a prisoner offered.

  Hamal shrugged, leading the group into the next block. Here, there were few cells, but they were larger. Large enough to accommodate prisoners of another type.

  As Hamal approached the only inhabited cell, the face of a horrifying man stared back at him. The man, nearly twice the size of a normal man, was scarred, deformed, and his face was a mask of deep sorrow. Feeling empathy for him, Hamal grasped the bars of the cell to get a better look at his eyes.

  They were the eyes of a broken man; devoid of hope, and glazed over with the stench of pain.

  “My friend,” Hamal said. “What manner of creature are you?”

  The giant leaned in closer, his large hands shielding his eyes from the light of the blocks torches.

  “I am but a man of Thyre,” he said. “Once a farmer, now a prisoner.”

  “Why did the Jindala imprison you?”

  The man sighed, gesturing at his own visage. “Simply because of this.”

  Hamal nodded. “No more,” he said, nodding to his men to open the cells. “I am Hamal, true heir to the throne of Khem, and I proclaim you a free man.”

  He stepped back as the lever was pulled, allowing the bars to fall away and the giant man to step out. When he rose to his full height, Hamal could see that he was at least three heads taller.

  “What is your name, friend?” he asked.

  “I am Gordius,” the giant said. “And I thank you.”

  Jadhav and his men had reached the stairway up to the prison’s wall. To the west, they could see the reception area, complete with a port for accepting prisoners. The docks were occupied by three ships; enough to carry all of the prisoners of the island back to the mainland. Jadhav felt the excitement of his men as they saw the ships… and their freedom.

  “We must not forget our brothers,” Jadhav said. “We will all be free, or we will die in the process. But we die as free men.”

  As he looked to the men behind him, he saw the passion in their eyes. They would have their revenge, and they would bask in the glory of their deaths, if it came to it. They would fight to the death, and take as many of their captors with them.