“No, Bodrin, this time, it’s better for you to wait here,” Saxthor said. “They’re right. You look too much like the conquering hero. Astorax, Tonelia, to promote the show, Tournak, and Hendrel to restrain the beast, and me. That’s who’ll go.”
“But, Saxthor –” Bodrin protested.
“But Saxthor nothing,” Tonelia said. She sat down beside her suitor and put her arm around his waist. He quieted down. “You know it makes more sense this way. You stay here and take care of Delia.”
Saxthor chucked to himself. She knows how to handle Bodrin, he thought. He looked at Tournak, pointed his head at the couple, and winked. Tournak’s grin showed he thought so it, too.
The plan was accepted. The group settled down to the evening meal. After eating, Tournak started going through the knapsacks.
“What’re you looking for?” Bodrin asked.
“Ropes,” Tournak said, not looking up from his search. “We don’t have any chains, but we need to play up Astorax’s fierceness to attract attention. A good crowd and response will get the interest of the palace for a performance there.”
At sunrise, they tied chords to Astorax, so Tournak and Hendrel each had a rope, restraining the half-man-half-beast. They used their staffs for control, prodding him to the city to perform. With the preparations done, they got on the road, forcing their seemingly reluctant beast to Prertsten.
Still sulking, feeling left out, the indignant Twit ruffled his feathers and dropped his calling card on Tonelia’s shoulder.
“Stop that, you bad bird,” Saxthor said. He flicked the poop off her blouse as Twit flew up in a tree branch. His anger defused and dignity restored, the crusty old bird flew down on Saxthor’s shoulder and rode there to Prertsten.
“What’s wrong with Twit?” Tournak asked. “Maybe he should’ve stayed back there with Delia and Bodrin?”
“You think you could convince him to remain behind?” Saxthor asked.
Tournak looked up at Twit, bobbing up and down with Saxthor’s stride. “I got your point.”
“I think he decided riding in Astorax’s antlers might lend doubt to the ferocious beast concept.” Saxthor reached up and stroked Twit’s breast feathers with his finger. “He loves attention.”
Outside the city walls, the entertainers set up a show for travelers coming and going. The guards at the gate watched Astorax roar, stamp his hooves, and grab at the spectators. From time to time, guards cast nervous glances at the men restraining the beast. When Tournak or Hendrel prodded the monster, Astorax bellowed, lowered his head, and attempted to charge his tormentors before the other man jerked him back. The wild beast, the activity, and the noise attracted a lot of attention. The crowd grew.
Saxthor went to the captain of the guards at the gate.
“Might we enter Prertsten to perform for the citizens? The entertainment would be good for everyone; the citizens, and the garrison.”
“That beast does draw a crowd,” the captain said. “You men don’t look like trouble. You may enter the city, but remember me when you leave and share what you make.”
“We surely will, captain,” Saxthor said.
He started back, when the captain’s arm shot out, obstructing his retreat. His heart jumped.
The captain was grinning. “You done good already.”
“We’re poor entertainers, captain, but do accept these coins for your help.”
Saxthor returned to the troupe. He saw from her animation and a beaming smile that Tonelia was pleased with the response as she passed through the crowd, collecting copper coins for the performance. Smiling, she showed him the take.
“This might not be such a bad line of work. We’ll eat a hot meal today at least.”
“Smile at the captain as we pass through the gate,” Saxthor said. “We might need his goodwill when we leave if things don’t go as planned.”
Tonelia looked over at the captain, beaming at her through missing teeth.
“He’s ugly.”
“He’s got a spear and sword and holds the gate.”
“I see your point, or rather his.”
Tonelia complied, and once inside, the Astorax bellowed, flailed his arms, and lowered his antlers, as if about to charge passersby. From time to time, he would stamp his hooves on the cobblestones to attract more attention. They performed on different street corners, moving closer to Prertsten Palace. They gave several performances by the palace gates. Once, when things looked like they would quiet down, Astorax pretended to bolt and jerked the rope out of Tournak’s hands.
“Stand clear!” Saxthor said to the fast gathering crowd. “The beast may charge.”
A woman screamed and dashed up the street.
With one of his ropes free, Astorax pretended to charge Hendrel, who fended off the beast with his staff until Tournak could get his rope back and restrain the bellowing beast. The excitement drew the notice of palace guards. Then a person of apparent importance arrived at the palace. Saxthor worked his way to the sedan chair.
“Would the lady like to see a performance of the half-man-half-beast?” Saxthor asked her guard.
The lady appeared aloof until Astorax put on one of his about-to-get-away acts; then, the lady couldn’t stop staring. The guards cleared her to proceed into the palace, and she was gone.
“We’ve been at this long enough,” Saxthor said to Tournak later in the afternoon. “If we don’t get in soon, the novelty will wear off.”
As he was speaking, a guard came to command them to entertain at the evening banquet, which Saxthor graciously accepted. The guard led the traveling entertainers to the gatehouse, where the officer in charge gave the travelers a serious looking-over. Saxthor made light of things by laughing and joking to dispel any threatening appearance. The captain was Prertstenian, but the guards behind him were orcs.
“You’ll have to leave the hunting knife here,” the commander said to Tournak, who’d already left his bow and arrows with Bodrin. Saxthor felt the captain needed to appear fierce with the orcs looking on.
“But captain, I need this for self-defense in case this beast gets loose,” Tournak said.
Saxthor stepped up. “If this beast should get free and attack the prince, the prince will hold you responsible. He’ll conceal the knife in his boot, and no one will ever be the wiser if it’s not needed.”
“Well, if it’s to protect the prince, I’ll let it pass. You ain’t got no other weapons, do you?” He handed the hunting knife back to Tournak, who stuffed it in his boot and pulled his pant leg over the handle.
“We don’t keep weapons on us, captain. Just the knife and our staffs to defend ourselves from this beast,” Saxthor said.
“Where did you people come from? Ain’t many entertainers in Prertsten.”
“We came from –”
“Sengenwha!” Saxthor blurted out. If Tournak said Heggolstockin, they’d soon be in chains. “We came from there originally, but we were last in a little village on the border.”
“You don’t look like Sengenwhan people,” the captain said. His eyes narrowed, and his hand gripped his sword.
Saxthor didn’t know what the officer meant, but the man was suspicious. He had to ease his mind, or they’d never get through the gatehouse except in chains.
“What do you mean?” Saxthor asked. He kept his voice calm, suppressing nervous fidgeting.
“Sengenwhan men don’t have blonde hair,” the captain said, watching Saxthor’s reaction.
“That’s what our father said,” Tonelia said, jumping into the impasse. She winked at the captain and slid along the table edge. “Mother insisted that Daddy was Saxthor’s father, but Daddy threw us out anyway when he was fifteen. Now we just make a living as best we can.” Her smile melted into a pitiful sadness. She batted her eyelashes at the middle-aged man.
As Saxthor admired her performance, he noted the man’s rigid stance softened. He would believe anything she said. The captain looked at Saxthor, then back at Tonelia, who gave him a
nother seductive grin.
“Let them pass,” the captain said. He beamed at Tonelia as he walked back around his desk and, clearing his throat, nodded to Saxthor with a sterner look.
Two guards escorted the entertainers, with their unruly beast, into the palace, delivering them to the attendant in charge of the evening’s feast. The attendant looked them over, and seeing Astorax, nodded.
“This’ll be unusual entertainment,” the man said. “The lady was right when she told me about finding you outside the palace gates. Come with me.”
The attendant showed the entertainers to rooms off the kitchens. “The kitchen help will bring you food,” he said, and he disappeared.
“Bodrin will be furious when he hears he missed a palace feast,” Tournak said.
“We’ll have to enjoy it for him. We can tell him details later,” Tonelia said, winking at Tournak.
Attendants deposited food platters in front of them. For Bodrin’s sake, of course, they ate everything within reach. Saxthor was worried. How would he get to tower battlements in the moonlight? Would the moonlight be strong enough to unlock the message in the necklace’s loop? He’d risk trying to look over the castilyernov in the daylight.
“You there,” Saxthor called to a passing kitchen helper. “Do you suppose I might take a look around the castilyernov?”
“I think not,” the man said, his stance rigidly upright at the suggestion. “The prince can’t have people just wandering around in the castilyernov.”
The kitchen helper walked off, still looking back at Saxthor, rejoining his gluttonous companions.
“I’ll have to wait until they take us up to the banquet hall to sneak out to a tower. How I’ll do that, I don’t know.”
Still chewing, Tonelia covering her mouth, “We’ll entertain; you find a way.”
That evening after Prince Pindradese feasted with his guests, he called for the performers. Saxthor hid the Peldentak Wand in his cloak, and with his troupe, followed their guide to the great hall. Guards ushered them in to perform for the prince, whose impatience showed in his frown and agitated state.
Saxthor entered first and stood by the door, surveying the banquet hall. The chamber was a good three stories tall with massive stone pillars flowing upward to capstones carved as celestial dragons. Vaulting arched to the ceiling center, where the ribs met in a coiled dragon poised to strike at the hall below. A dark blue ceiling with silver stars filled in between the rib and enormous tapestries depicting victorious battles embellished the high walls. Behind the dais was a magnificently carved dragon coiled on a rock. Its staring head froze a warning scream with flared tendrils and a forked tongue shooting through rows of fangs.
“Dragons everywhere,” Tournak said.
“There’s an ominous tone to the chamber,” Saxthor said.
“Be careful.”
As Saxthor studied it, the attendant tapped him on the arm. “The great dragon represents the prince; his strength comes from the Rock of Prertsten.”
“I see,” Saxthor said. “That’s most impressive.”
Saxthor looked at the guests seated at long oak tables perpendicular to the host’s table. Servants heaped picked carcasses on great trays amid scraps littering the boards. Dogs snarled over bones tossed behind the guests. Grease, from eating with their fingers, stained the nobles’ pretentious costumes.
“Flatter him,” Tournak said in Saxthor’s ear.
The attendant prodded Saxthor.
“Go on; the prince is waiting.”
Saxthor walked to the hall’s center, where he began his introduction after a sweeping bow. “Good evening, most illustrious prince. Tonight, we present for your amusement, the most amazing marvel of our age. This beast is ferocious, so please don’t provoke him. He’s half-man-half-deer and rages at his misfortune. He gored to death a dozen men before my troupe subdued him. Be careful lest he breaks free and does harm to this most illustrious company.”
“Yes, yes,” Prince Pindradese said. “Get on with it, man.”
Saxthor bowed and turned to his assistants.
“Bring forth the Astorax, the Beast of the Forests,” Saxthor said, bowing and backing his way to the door. Tonelia led Tournak and Hendrel, tugging on the ropes to force the ferocious and flailing Astorax into the great hall amid the gasping throng.
“I left something back in our room,” Saxthor told the entertainment master who focused on the act. “I’ll get it and return in a moment.” The man nodded without taking his eyes off the performers or the prince. Saxthor disappeared down the hall.
*
Tonelia danced around the grimacing keepers, tugging on ropes, pulling the resistant monster forward. Astorax snorted and stamped his hooves. His head thrashed wildly from side to side, struggling to tear loose a rope or stab it with his horns. Tournak and Hendrel groaned in the relentless strain to maintain control.
“Behold the raging beast!” Tonelia’s fluid dance on dainty slippers sent her pleated skirt swirling with each graceful spin. Her blouse was tight, and her breasts topped the spinning undulations, contrasting her loveliness against the rough and dangerous beast she danced around.
Astorax snorted, bellowed, and pulled back on the ropes as if to break free. Hendrel cracked a whip, and Astorax danced to escape it. The troupe kept inventing tricks, gaining time for Saxthor, who slipped back and down the hall unnoticed by all but Tournak.
“Stay back!” Tonelia said to an approaching guard.
Astorax bellowed, lowering his head as if to charge. Hendrel cracked the whip, and Astorax spun around at him.
“Did you see that?” a spectator gasped.
Astorax spun again to the voice, and the lady fainted. The awed crowd stared following the acts’ every perceived threat. They’d gasp in unison at some unexpected turn, then laugh and applaud others. The men appeared barely able to restrain the beast; he’d almost break free. Then Astorax jerked unexpectedly and snatched the rope from Hendrel’s hands.
“Hold him!” Hendrel shouted.
Surprised, Astorax looked about then began charging Tournak.
“Grab the rope!” Tournak yelled.
Astorax backed away out of the entertainment circle and toward the Prince’s table. The prince’s guards surged forward with swords, singing out of their scabbards. Immediately, Tournak realized the danger and jerked Astorax to the side and away from the prince. The guests at the side table jumped up, knocking over benches turning to run.
“I have it!” Hendrel yelled. He jerked the rope all but pulling Astorax off his hooves.
A collective sigh of relief came from the panicked guests, while cheers rose from their counterparts at the opposite table. The entertainment continued, but the tricks now seemed anticlimactic.
Tonelia realized the prince was getting bored. He was animated and laughing when they entered. Now he was getting drunk and yawned.
“Whip the beast!” Pindradese said. He rose, wobbled, and slumped back onto his seat.
Hendrel cracked the whip, and it snapped on the stone floor beside Astorax. Astorax gave Hendrel a sharp glare. Tonelia thought it too close.
“Again! Whip the beast!”
“I fear if I strike the creature, he may go berserk and tear-free, Lord Prince,” Hendrel said. “He might harm one of your guests.”
The prince guzzled more wine and frowned. He stood up and yelled, “Who cares about the guests; whip the beast!”
Hendrel cracked the whip again, and this time, Astorax snatched the whip out of his hand. The raging beast cracked the whip near Hendrel. The crowd roared as the handler skipped and hopped, dancing to avoid the whip. Astorax scanned the hall, then threw the whip against the far wall.
“Clever beast, this Astorax,” Prince Pindradese said to the man on his right.
The prince chugged the last of his wine and hurled the goblet at Astorax, who just dodged it. The silver goblet clanged across the floor, bouncing off a table leg before a servant retrieved it.
If t
he crowd became restless or looked bored, one of the two “keepers” would let the rope slip, appearing to lose control of the beast. They kept the crowd entertained as the prince slouched into drunkenness. His head nodded, and finally, he slipped and almost slid onto the floor. Meanwhile, Astorax's performance transfixed the official overseeing the feast.
*
Saxthor noted the lay of the austere palace when they entered earlier. He knew he needed to get behind the great hall to the keep’s back tower. He hurried along the corridor, through which servants moved food and goods without disturbing the prince. Twice choosing the wrong staircase, Saxthor backtracked until he found a more imposing staircase.
This is the one to the highest tower,” he thought. I must hurry; they’ll soon notice my absence in the banquet hall. He opened the tower door; a guard thrust a spear across his path.
“What’re you doing here?” the guard asked. “This leads to private quarters.” His rough weathered face had dark eyes that held Saxthor like a vice.
“The prince sent me for his sword.”
“Prince Pindradese wouldn’t send a stranger to get his sword.” The guard moved closer, lowering the spear, pressing the point in Saxthor’s chest.
“Look there,” Saxthor said, pointing behind the guard.
The guard looked away an instant. Saxthor pointed his dragon ring at the man. In his excited state, he vaporized the soldier. Spear and sword fell, clanking on the floor.
Saxthor stuck the weapons behind the door. He rushed to the tower room balcony taking off his ring and necklace. He held the ring, so the moonlight shot through the gemstone and the loop in the necklace. Although weak, the message flashed on the tower wall.
In Prertsten Palace, standing tall,
Within the Great Reception Hall,
Upon the aged throne of princes,
There is a dragon for defenses.
Through the ring’s blue stone at night,
Focus well the moon’s silver light
To fall upon the ruby’s eye,
A beam to strike the wall nearby.
Where the ruby shines its beam,
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition Page 72
