“Yes, I’ll admit it, I was going to open the door, but only for a closer look. Nothing more,” Lodren confessed.
“It never crossed your mind then, perhaps, to try it on for size?”
Lodren studied Koloss as he approached. His stance was not aggressive, but Lodren still felt a little uneasy. His inquisitor had proven himself to be quite mad in their previous meetings, but now seemed most lucid, despite his belief of being somebody else. “Of course not!” blurted Lodren. “Have you noticed the size of my head? I have far too many brains inside my large skull for that titchy crown to fit it.”
“Oh!” replied Koloss, with a completely different tone. “That’s alright then. If you took it, you see, the second might find it and we don’t want that. The second wouldn’t care, far too arrogant. But if the second were to obtain it that would be something entirely different. Beware the second…” Koloss stopped talking abruptly and scratched his head as if he had lost his train of thought and started humming to himself instead. He wandered over to one of the bookcases and began flicking at the scrolls arranged on one of the shelves. Finding one of interest, he unrolled it and scanned quickly through the text. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself before throwing it to the ground beside him. He crouched down as Lodren watched him intently. Koloss put his hand in his pocket and took out a couple of objects that Lodren could not see properly, but it was not long before he realised what they were. Koloss banged them together, producing a bright spark amongst the cold mist. Suddenly, the scroll erupted in flames. The items he had produced were, of course, a flint and a stone.
Lodren dashed forwards and immediately began stamping on the burning scroll. “What are you doing?” he yelped. “You’ll burn the whole place down around us.”
“But I have to,” replied Koloss, confused by Lodren’s reaction. “To protect the crown. It must be burnt. Beware the second, we cannot let him have power over the dragons.”
Lodren stared at Koloss. What was he talking about? Who did he mean by the second and what had any of it to do with dragons?
Koloss turned away and resumed his search for scrolls on the nearby shelves. Lodren stared at the back of his head for a moment before glancing down at his hammer. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying desperately to think of a more suitable way to deal with his predicament. He had to stop Koloss’ destruction of any more scrolls or tomes. “I’m really sorry about this, Koloss. Faylore, I hope you’ll forgive me,” he mumbled under his breath. Stepping up behind Koloss, he held his hammer up with one hand and half covered his eyes with the other. He gritted his teeth and scrunched up his face. With the slightest of twitches, there was a dull thud and Koloss fell backwards into the free arm of the Nibby. “He’s going to have a really bad headache when he wakes up. Thank goodness Grubb will be there to get rid of it… I hope.”
He placed Koloss gently over his shoulder. Time to find his way back to his friends. Looking over his shoulder, he found he was still enamoured by the sight of the crown. Unable to resist, he approached the cabinet once more, this time opening the door without hesitation and reaching in to take the crown from its resting place. He felt a strange sensation, a combination of incredible power and pure contentment. He held the crown aloft. The dim light that was reflected by it seemed magnified.
Lodren spun it around on his finger, but regardless of how he held it, the light constantly pointed in one direction. He walked forward into the area that was bathed in a golden glow only for the light to transfer to a different location. Strange, thought Lodren. There is no direct light source down here, so how can the reflection change? The Nibby continued to follow the light from the crown. Could it actually be guiding him toward an exit? It was not long before, either by design or coincidence, he found himself nearing his friends. Looking up, he saw Faylore. “Hello,” he called, waving cheerily to her.
Faylore ran to greet him. A grave look of concern swept across her face as she noticed the body of her unconscious father draped over the shoulder of the seemingly carefree Nibby. “What happened to him, Lodren?” she breathed.
“Oh, he’s alright,” replied Lodren, smiling. “I’m afraid I had to calm him down a bit,” he added, juggling his hammer.
“You struck my father with that?” yelled Faylore.
“I’m afraid I had to. Had to stop him trying to burn the place down. I’m not as good as you with your little green darts,” he chuckled.
“Lodren! This is not funny!” she snapped.
“No, I agree entirely, Your Majesty. Neither is all that stuff your father said about the second and the crown and that he was Peneriphus and a few other names I’ve never heard of. Oh, and he was talking about the dragons. Wish I could make some sense of it all though. Anybody hungry?”
“What! Ye disappear for six hours, come back with the queen’s father across yer shoulder, waffle on about dragons and such and now all ye care about is yer belly? What on earth has gotten into ye, ye daft Nibby?” stormed Grubb.
“Six hours? No wonder I’m hungry. Come on, I’ll put some dinner on,” replied Lodren.
“Did ye not hear a word I just said, Lodren? What reasonable explanation could ye have for knocking out the queen’s father, ye gormless git? Worst of all is that ye don’t even seem to care. Speak up, what’s wrong with ye?”
“Calm down, Grubb,” said Faylore, coming to Lodren’s defence. “It’s not his fault. He’s entranced by the crown.”
“He’s what? Entranced? What do ye mean, entranced?”
“Only the reigning king or queen is allowed to handle the crown without suffering any effect. It’s a defence that was imbued during its creation. I suppose it was to protect it from being stolen. Well, that’s the only logical reason I can think of anyway.”
“But Faylore, I’ve never met anyone who’s as much of a goody-two-shoes as him, he’d never steal anything,” said Grubb, pointing at Lodren. “If he was any kinder, he’d be walkin’ around naked ’cause he gave his clothes away.”
“But the crown doesn’t know that, does it? And it is still in his hand,” she replied.
“I hadn’t even noticed it. Why didn’t I see it before?” asked Grubb, looking a little perplexed.
“Part of the same enchantment, my friend. Lodren no longer realises he’s holding it and anyone close to him is unable to see it,” she informed him. Lodren was grinning inanely at them.
“That makes sense,” said Grubb. “If ’e doesn’t know ’e’s got it, ’ow could ’e pass it to somebody else? And if they can’t see it, ’ow can they take it?”
“Exactly,” said Faylore as she reached forward and took the crown from Lodren’s grasp.
“Shall we go then?” asked Lodren, “Faylore, how did you get hold of your crown? I left it in the glass case before I headed back with Koloss.”
“Don’t worry about it, Lodren,” she replied. “I’ll tell you later. Come along, follow me.” Before turning, Faylore placed the crown on a large table. “It’ll find its own way back to its case,” she announced, wagging her finger at it as if it were a mischievous child.
Lodren and Grubb cast one another a quick glance, Lodren raising his eyebrows, blissfully unaware of the full conversation that had taken place whilst he was slightly enchanted. He shrugged Koloss a little higher on his shoulder and followed Faylore.
Exiting the hall of history, they were immediately intercepted by the guards. Seeing the unconscious body of Koloss over Lodren’s shoulder, they leapt forward. “Stand aside!” bellowed Faylore, “Lower your weapons.”
“But, Your Majesty, your father?” asked one of the guards in haste.
“Yes, my father. You were supposed to protect the hall of history, yet somehow my sick father managed to avoid you all and enter unseen. How dare you challenge anyone? You should be ashamed. If a sickly old man can pass without challenge, why are you here at all?” she asked, sternly.
Your Majesty it is beyond me. He must have…”
“I do not care what he may have done! What I do
know is that he managed to slip past you undetected. The vastness of the hall could have swallowed him permanently. It is doubtful that he would have found his own way out and even more doubtful that he would have been discovered before he starved to death. Do you believe that any Thedarian would have suggested searching there once his absence was noticed?”
The guard had lost his nerve and was looking to the ground. “Perhaps not, Your Majesty,” he replied, quietly.
“Perhaps not,” repeated Faylore. “Take my father to his bed and have him made comfortable, then report to your superior for re-assignment. It seems that guarding the hall of history is beyond your capability.”
Koloss was immediately placed on a litter and borne away by the guards.
“Honestly,” said Faylore, angrily. “Have my people become so incompetent that they cannot notice an old man shuffling past them? A raving old man at that. I know he is my father but you have witnessed what he’s like. You always hear him well before you see him.”
Lodren rocked back and forth from heel to toe. “I’m afraid it’s worse than you think, Your Majesty,” he mumbled.
“What was that? Do speak up, Lodren. We have no secrets from one another.”
“Alright. But I’ll warn you now, Faylore, you’re not going to like what I have to tell you,” he replied. He explained to Faylore how he had lost his bearings before discovering the ashes of the scrolls and tomes before encountering her father and discovering the crown. The hardest thing was telling her how he had seen Koloss actually setting one of the scrolls alight, right before his eyes.
“How many scrolls had he destroyed?” she asked, concerned. These were written histories of her people, and, as such, were still sacred to many of the elders.
“I’m not sure, Faylore. I saw at least a couple of dozen, might even have been as many as fifty. They were mostly ash so I couldn’t tell you honestly. And I was only wandering around. There could be more in other areas I never reached,” replied Lodren.
“Why would my father do such a thing?” she asked. “He protected our archives more than anyone else. Why would he feel it necessary to destroy them?”
“When he surprised me…” Lodren began, “… he seemed to think I was trying to steal the crown. Then he said something about not letting the second get the dragons. Well he said ‘the second, but not the second.’ You know, what he was saying before, the second, not the second. I don’t know what he means by that, but he seemed most concerned about the dragons.”
“Did he think they were in danger?” asked Faylore. “Should we be protecting them?”
“He said we can’t let the second get the dragons. I have no idea what he meant by it, I’m sorry, Faylore. To be honest, he scared me a bit.”
“You? Scared? When you’ve got that whoppin’ great ‘ammer in yer ‘and? Don’t make me laugh,” snorted Grubb.
“You can scoff all you like, Grubb,” Lodren retorted. “You didn’t see his eyes.”
“That’s only ’cause ’e’s a bit barmy,” blurted Grubb without thinking.
“And of course, let us not forget…” interrupted Faylore, “… the father of the Queen of Thedar!”
“I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty,” said Grubb, bowing graciously. “But ye have to admit, he has lost a few of his marbles since you last saw him.”
“Maybe, Master Grubb. But I would never have put it so crudely.”
“Perhaps your mother could shed a little light on the subject,” suggested Lodren.
“Good idea,” replied Faylore. “Come on, no time like the present,” and she marched away rapidly, Lodren moving as fast as his legs would carry him and Grubb transforming into Wilf to do the same. Realising that Lodren was losing ground almost immediately, Wilf scooped him up as he passed and popped him on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Wilf, most considerate,” said Lodren, smiling as he surveyed the scene from his new vantage point.
“We all need to ’ear what her mum ’as to say. If she ’as anythin’ to say o’ course,” replied Wilf. Lodren noted that this was the most he had heard Wilf speak. It was, in fact, only the second time he had ever heard him speak.
Making enquiries as to her mother’s whereabouts, Faylore approached her father’s chambers and slowed to a more sedate pace. Her friends were directly behind her, and realising they had reached their destination, Wilf lowered Lodren carefully to the ground before transforming back into Grubb.
Without invitation, the three entered Koloss’ chambers. Erenthas sat at her husband’s side, caressing his hand gently as he slept. She did not hear them enter.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” said Faylore.
Erenthas jumped at the sound of her daughter’s voice, “Oh, my dear! You gave me quite a start. I was deep in thought.”
“I do not wish to intrude, Mother, but I have news and hope that perhaps you may answer a few questions,” replied Faylore.
“Can it not wait? Can you not see that your father is unwell and needs my attention?” She turned to face Lodren and Grubb. “I am told that his condition has something to do with your so-called friends!” she snapped. “Tell me small one, what do you know of this?” she demanded, immediately pointing at Grubb.
“’ang on a minute, what ye pointin’ at me for? I ain’t done nothin’. It’s ’im you should be pointin’ at,” replied Grubb, gesturing toward Lodren.
Erenthas’ gaze turned to Lodren, who immediately panicked and went on the defensive. “I didn’t want to do it, Your Highness. Is that what I’m supposed to call you?” he babbled, “It’s just that he frightened me, sneaking around and hiding, asking questions from the shadows. Then, when he came out so I could see him, he started burning things. That hall is so dry I thought he’d burn us all to death, so you see, I had to do it.”
“Had to do what exactly?” asked Erenthas, slowly.
“Well, I kind of bopped him on the head a bit,” replied Lodren, scrunching up his face in anticipation of Erenthas’ reaction.
“What!” she roared. “You struck a member of Thedarian royalty? I’ll have your head for this, worm. Guards, arrest this thing. Place it in irons until its execution!”
Guards rushed in from all directions. Faylore leapt in front of Lodren, sword drawn and arm outstretched. “The first one to place a hand upon him dies,” she bellowed, “I am your queen, my word is law. Step away or die by my hand.” The guards stopped dead in their tracks, each dropping their weapon to the ground before taking a knee before Faylore. “You are dismissed,” she growled.
“Faylore, what do you mean by this? Your father is assaulted and you protect the treason of the guilty party? You would stand in the way of justice?”
Faylore sheathed her sword. She took her mother by the hand, “Mother, you do not understand. If Lodren says he had no other choice, then it is the truth. He is a gentle soul and does not have it in his heart to commit any crime, especially one as grave as that of which you accuse him. He would lay down his own life to protect mine. Look into his eyes, Mother. Do you not see it?”
“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” muttered Lodren. “It was just that… he’s so big and I didn’t have time to think. When he started burning things… I wouldn’t hurt him really… honestly. I w w w wouldn’t hurt anyone if I c c c could help it,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Shut up, Lodren!” exclaimed Grubb, “Yer makin’ a fool o’ yerself. You’ve said sorry and Lady Erenthas ‘as forgiven ye. Now shut up witterin’ on.”
Faylore leaned down and firmly slapped Grubb on the back of his head. “I suggest that Lodren is not the only one who should shut up right now,” she hissed through gritted teeth. It took a while, but after plying Lodren with honey tea to help him calm down, Faylore gave her mother a detailed explanation of what had happened in the hall of history. Occasionally, she would pause to allow Lodren to tell his part, having witnessed it first hand, although there was still much sniffling and tear-wiping as he searched repeatedly for his handkerc
hief. “So as you can see, Mother, I am most perturbed by the situation.”
“But I cannot see why he would want to destroy things in such a way. Why, until recently he would stay in his chambers from dawn ‘til dusk. He very rarely answered when spoken to.”
“How long has he been well enough to move about so freely, Mother?”
“Two months, maybe three. It started just after Jendilomin came home.”
“Jendilomin!” exclaimed Faylore and her friends, in unison.
“Yes, Jendilomin. Why do you sound so surprised, my dear? She is your sister. This is her home as well as yours,” Erenthas replied innocently.
“Yeah, but she never turned you into a tree, did she?” snapped Grubb.
Erenthas looked confused, “Turned me into a tree? How could my daughter turn me into a tree? She is not a witch or wizard, she is a Thedarian. We do not hold with the use of magic.”
“Bloody ’ell, this just keeps gettin’ better,” mumbled Grubb under his breath.
“I may be old, you little pipsqueak, but there is nothing wrong with my hearing. What do you mean by that?” asked Erenthas, raising her voice slightly.
“I’ve just remembered,” said Lodren, rising from his seat with a nervous laugh, “There was something very important I meant to do. Should have taken care of it hours ago, actually. Would you excuse me, only…”
“Sit down, stumpy, yer goin’ nowhere!” snapped Grubb. “If I’ve gotta be ’ere, so ’ave you. PARK IT!”
“Oh dear,” sighed Lodren, slowly lowering himself back down. “We managed to get past one lot of unpleasantness and now here we go, straight back into another.”
“Did Jendilomin arrive by herself, Mother?” asked Faylore, tentatively.
“She arrived by herself, but I do not believe she travelled here alone. The scouts reported that she was accompanied by… ghosts, as far as they could tell. Jendilomin crossed the river by herself, parting company with the strangers on the far bank before climbing into a canoe. The most unusual thing, other than the fact that Jendilomin was in the company of ghosts, was that they all appeared to be children. Apparently, none were tall enough to reach half your sister’s height, but they did not appear threatening in any way.”
The Bane of Karrak_Ascension II of III Page 22
