"Zalustus?" Kara repeated, surprised. "Why would he want it?"
"The only plausible reason that we have thought of, is that Zalustus is trying to keep Flare from getting it."
Kara nodded, "Okay. That makes sense, I guess."
"He has the helmet but we must get the shield and armor."
"Get them?" Kara asked surprised. "Do you mean to get them and give them to Flare?"
"We haven't decided that yet," Cassandra answered. "We think it wise to get the items before Zalustus can and then we can decide what to do with them."
"Where are they?"
"Well, Dagan says that the armor Nerandall was lost during the Third War of the Races when the Faerum city of Saprasia in the White Mountains was captured by goblins. Perhaps it's still there."
"Seems doubtful," Kara said. "Surely the goblins would have moved it?"
"Maybe, but that's the last place it was known to be. You'll have to start your search for it there."
"Us?" Kara asked surprised. "I assumed your group was going there."
"Uh, no. We've been detained in Eled Aminor for the theft of the prophecy." She grimaced before continuing, "Actually they also suspect us of stealing the helmet. The King himself is coming here."
Kara bolted to her feet, still holding the mirror. "Then we have to come there. Perhaps we can help get you out."
"No!" Cassandra exclaimed. "et, ot; CassaYou must not do that. If you come here then you'll most likely be caught and no one will know what Zalustus has done. You must find both Nerandall and Ocklamoor."
"We can't just leave you there." Kara began, but once again Cassandra cut her off.
"You must. If you come here and are captured then this knowledge will also be captured. You must find the armor and try to find the shield. Dagan doesn't know what's become of it, but you must try." She paused, "Kara, I know this is difficult. You know what is right and wrong here and you know that Flare is a good person. Trust your beliefs. Now, how are the rest of," Cassandra cut off and her eyes widened in alarm. There was a sound from behind her and the woman's face quickly disappeared from view.
Kara sat there for a long while, hoping that Cassandra would reappear. She still felt numbed by what she had heard. Flare stole Ossendar and fled Telur. That alone was enough to give her chills, but none of them could return or they might all be tortured. And Heather's group captured. That last bit was the most worrisome at the moment. There was little she could do about the rest of it, but they could try and rescue the captives in Eled Aminor, despite Cassandra's rather strenuous objections. Would that help, or like Cassandra feared, would it just get them caught? And what had caused Cassandra to disappear from view like that?
She waited a long while longer. Each moment that passed becoming more and more sure that Cassandra would not be coming back to the mirror. Finally she climbed to her feet. The gully was ten or twelve feet deep at this point, but she had wandered this part of the woods a lot over their weeks here and she knew it got shallower if she went westward. It was rather convenient as there was a fast moving stream in that direction which would at least help her get most of the dirt and mud washed away.
For a moment she considered discarding the mirror. The piece she carried was irregularly shaped and had jagged edges. If she wasn't careful then she might very well slice her hand or arm open. Feeling it was more important to keep the mirror, Kara tore off a large leaf from a nearby bush and wrapped the leaf around the edge that she used to carry the mirror. Perhaps it would keep her from getting cut, maybe.
She started off at a fast walk through the gully. The bottom was muddy and puddles of water were everywhere. Plants grew across the bottom of the gully and up the sides. She passed several places where she might have climbed out but she didn't try. These walls were constantly collapsing and she knew the gully would emerge just a little farther westward. She felt the danger of trying to climb the steep sides was an unnecessary risk.
Sure enough, after about a fifteen minute walk, the gully abruptly ended, but not in the way that she remembered. The gully briefly got very shallow, about even with Kara's shoulders and then it got much deeper than before. The reason was obvious. Being this close to the river, a large amount of water had run off into the gully and formed a small round lake. Actually, it was more like a swamp. Because this part of the gully had gotten shallow, it acted as a sort of dam, although there was a decent amount of water moving through the center of the gully bottom.
After a minute or two of climbing, slipping, and then climbing some more, Kara managed to pull herself up onto the high ground. She lay there on her side for a moment, trying to catch her breath. The ground underneath began to move slightly and she started rolling, afraid that it was abouto ty. Thet to collapse. The last thing that she wanted to happen was to wind up back in the gully. A little of the dirt fell in, but with her weight gone, the side seemed to stabilize.
Kara climbed to her feet and retrieved her piece of mirror from where she had tossed it. Once again she looked into the glass, but only her own reflection looked back.
Sighing, she began walking again. She carefully circumvented the bog at the end of the gully and approached the river.
This part of the river was reasonably fast moving and clean. The shore was rocky and she carefully set the mirror fragment down and headed to the water. She glanced around quickly, looking for anyone who might be here. She had to be a good mile or two from the village and the others didn't normally come this far, as there was a bend in the river and it passed much closer to the village. Seeing no one, Kara pulled her dress up over her head and dropped it on the rocks. The mud and dirt was everywhere and she hurried forward to clean up.
It took her about half an hour to get cleaned up and then another half an hour to get back to the village. She washed both herself and her soaking wet dress. They were both a mess. At least she managed to get the dirt and mud off of her, but the dress was still filthy. The absolute first thing she wanted to do was to change clothes.
Reaching the village, there were several people about, but only one was close enough to get a good look at her. It was Seth, one of those who had helped rescue them from the soldiers. He glanced in her direction and quickly looked away, did a double-take, and then looked back. This time he didn't look away but stared at her messy state.
Kara scowled at the man but it did no good, and in fact may have contributed to the grin that slowly spread across the despicable man's face. Grinding her teeth, Kara raised her chin and walked right past the filthy man.
The Guardians and Keenan had been given a small house to share. The word house was being generous. She had been in outhouses that were roomier. The very first thing she had done was to hang a blanket down the middle of the shack and forbid the men to come on her side. She knew it wasn't fair of her to take half of the room and force the four men to split the other half, but she had decided that it would be good for them. So far none of the men had trespassed on her side, but she had heard them fussing about the arrangements, as only men could. Trestus and Derek had fashioned a sort of hammock and strung it from a large tree limb and the others had quickly followed. Now none of the men slept in the shack anymore, unless it was raining.
She quickly entered the small building and was relieved that none of the others were here. It was such a relief to get the wet clothes off that she momentarily forgot the urgency of her news. When she remembered, she hung the dress up to dry and picked up trousers and a shirt that she had borrowed from Leela. They were made from deer hide and she didn't find them all that comfortable, but she still treasured them dearly. They had fled from their captivity at Dahl-Rucka with only the clothes they wore. She had never realized how necessary a second set of clothes were until she no longer had one.
She unfolded the clothes and lay them on her small sleeping pallet but hesitated. She looked in the mirror again and this time was pleased that no one looked back at her. She was completely naked and her hair was a mess. The dirt was gone but h
er hair was still a mess of tangles. She stooped down and grabbed the hairbrush, aarte no onnother loan from Leela, and began quickly brushing her hair. She was still brushing her hair when the door to their house opened and Trestus stepped in. She knew he couldn't see her as the blanket blocked her from view, but there was an urgency in his step and she was afraid that he was about to yank back the blanket.
"Kara! Are you in here?" he shouted, his voice much louder than necessary.
"I am, but I'm changing clothes." She said quickly. "Wait outside and I'll be out in a minute."
"Hurry up, it's important."
There was something about his tone that seemed strange. Kara leaned her head around the edge of the blanket just as Trestus was opening the door. "What is it?" she demanded. "What's so important?"
Trestus stopped in the doorway, looking back at her. "Leela just found me, this lord of theirs is back and he wants to see us."
Chapter 19
Cassandra sat up straight on the edge of the bed and set down the small pitcher of water that she had been using to communicate with Kara. She had cast that communication spell so long ago that she had completely forgotten about it. It would seem that Kara and the others in her group didn't look in a mirror very often. The spell had been cast the night that she, Dagan, and Atock had fled Telur. As soon as one of her targets looked in a mirror or other extremely shiny surface, then she would know about it and be able to talk with them. It seemed forever and a half ago that Heather had looked into that mirror in the inn in Eled Aminor. She sighed deeply. There had been so many questions that she had hoped to ask Kara, but the chance was gone. The spell was a one time chance. Oh, she could recast the spell, but not from within this cell and she didn't like her chances of escaping anytime soon.
After setting the water pitcher on the floor, she straightened back up and looked to the cell door. The bolts were being drawn and in only a matter of moments the door swung open and Lord Myrus entered the room. It was not surprising, the man visited them several times a day, every day. Always with the same demand. "The King is on his way. Tell me where the helmet is and perhaps he will be lenient." At times he would flex his big hands into fists and she could tell that he wanted to hit the prisoners. The only thing saving them was the King's command.
Lord Myrus walked slowly down the small walkway between cells. He came to a halt and carefully observed each of the prisoners in turn. "I have tried to help you, whether you believe me or not," he said quietly. "It seems that time has passed."
"What do you mean?" Heather demanded.
"The King has returned and he wants to try a different way of," he paused and made a show of searching for the right word, "asking the questions."
His smile nearly made Cassandra sick. Only a monster could enjoy torturing people and she got the feeling that this man enjoyed it very much.
"Now," Myrus continued, "the King wants your leader. Who is it?" he asked, carefully studying Dagan.
"I am," Heather answered. She stood just to the side of the cell door,gful gripping the bars with either hand while her head also rested on the bars.
Myrus turned from his study of Dagan to stare at Heather. He was obviously surprised. "You?"
"Don't listen to the fool girl," Dagan said quickly. "I'm in charge."
"Do you honestly think that I would follow an old fool or a woman?" Enton demanded from his cell. "I'm in charge of this group."
Aaron opened his mouth to speak but Myrus beat him to it. "Enough! If you will not tell the truth, then I will take you in the order that you spoke." He motioned to Heather, "You're first."
There was a general sense of pandemonium as every prisoner began shouting and trying to reach through the bars. That was when the guards stepped in with their cudgels and staffs. There was a brief scuffle which ended badly for the prisoners. Enton finished the fight unconscious and others had abrasions, bruises, and cuts.
The guards took Heather from her cell as she knew they would. Her eyes misted with tears, not for herself but for those under her command. She couldn't bear the thought of what was about to happen to them.
Heather was forced through the doorway, rather roughly, and then marched through dark hallway after dark hallway. She did her best to memorize her way, and to her credit she had a good idea where the prison cells were located, but the hallways were so alike in design and there had been so many turns that she couldn't be sure of the way back.
At long last, the guards stopped her in front of an old wooden door. Myrus stepped forward and knocked, and the door swung open slowly and Heather was shoved forward.
Heather entered a room that was as frightening as she had imagined. The room was made from giant stone blocks and torches were placed along the walls every five feet or so. The light from the torches made the contents of the room easy to see. A table sat in the middle of the room, a table that had restraints all along the sides and for some reason was covered with a powder. She knew what the table was, it was a torture table. Even if the table hadn't so plainly told what this room was used for, the walls were lined with tools. The tools were the sort that only had one purpose and she shuttered at the sight of them.
Myrus stepped in front of her, smiling. "Can you guess what those are used for my dear?" he asked, watching her stare at the tools.
"I can." Heather admitted. "But only a madman could have devised them." The smile slid from Myrus' face and Heather knew her guess was right. Myrus had probably designed some of those very instruments himself.
Myrus opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut immediately as another person spoke from the door.
"Strap her to the table. The King will be here any moment."
Heather glanced at the doorway and started in surprise. The speaker did not look like any other lord that she had seen before. He was tall and slim. His hair was black and cut short, and it was just starting to go gray along the sides. His beard and mustache were also both cut short.
Most lords that Heather had seen wore extravagant clothes as if they were constantly in a competition with their peers. This man wore a robe, that if it was on a woman would probably be called a dress. her ainThe robe was made out of a coarse material, plain brown, and hung to the floor. For some reason it gave Heather the feeling of a magician.
For a moment Myrus didn't say anything. Instead he just glowered at the new arrival, who seemed not to notice or at least not care. Finally, Myrus turned to the nearest guard. "Strap her down."
Something about the way Myrus gave the order implied that he was not pleased about something. Heather found that surprising. She believed that this man enjoyed torture, so why would he be upset?
Rough hands seized her and pushed her down on the table. Heather did not resist. There was no point. There was a time to resist and this wasn't it. Resisting now would serve no purpose, but resisting the coming pain would.
The man in the robe stepped up to the head of the table and stood there, looking down at her. He didn't say anything, just stared at her, so Heather just stared back.
There was a rustling sound from the doorway and the man in the robe turned, disappearing from Heather's sight. She turned her head and realized that all the guards were down on one knee. Even Myrus had knelt.
Tilting her head back as far as she could against the hard table, Heather could just make out the image of an old short man entering the room. In addition to being short, he was also pudgy. Regardless of his height and waist, the man was obviously the King. There was just something about the man's stature. He had sharp calculating eyes and a firm jaw. There wasn't a crown on his bushy brown hair, but it wasn't required.
"Rise," the King said.
All around there was the creaking and rustling as all those kneeling men climbed to their feet.
"Myrus, you've done good." The King said, moving farther into the room.
"Thank you, your majesty. If you allow me to proceed then I can find the location of the helmet." He paused, following the progression of t
he King as he continued to walk. "If I had been allowed to question them already, then I could have presented the helmet to you upon your arrival."
"Your ways do work sometimes, but they tend to destroy the subject." The King said, coming to a stop beside the table and looking down at Heather. He studied her for a moment and then looked back to Myrus. "You and your guards can leave."
"Sir?" Myrus asked incredulously. "Shouldn't I stay at least," his eyes glanced to Heather, "just for your protection."
The King smiled a weary smile. "No. Leave us." His tone left no room for further objections.
Myrus took a deep breath and seemed to want to argue, but he knew better. "Out," he said simply and as one, the guards bowed and left the room. Myrus was last. He paused in the doorway and looked back, almost as if he was hoping the king would change his mind, but the king was not paying him any attention. He turned sharply and closed the door.
Heather was alone with the king and the man in the brown robe. In addition a third man stepped up to the table. He was a newcomer and must have followed in behind the king as she hadn't even known he was there. She swallowed hard, fearing what was about to happen.
The new arrival also had black hair but he was clean shaven and n wiswaljust entering his middle years, and his sideburns were just beginning to show the first signs of graying. The newcomer also wore a robe, but his clothes were made from a soft black material, infinitely smoother than the other man's brown robe. He looked to the King and then to the man in brown, as if he was unsure of his place here. Finally his gaze came to rest on Heather and her opinion of him was forced upwards. There was a power in his eyes even if he lacked the self assurance to know it.
The King's face leaned out over the table and smiled down at Heather. "Hello my dear. I am King Stennis. I am the owner of the items that you stole. Would you like to make this easy on all of us and tell me where the helmet of Ashteroth is located?"
Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series Page 22
