Escape: The Seam Travelers Book One

by Jason Nugent

  “Be quiet! If anyone hears this, we’re both dead men!”

  Something nagged at Phetrix and a cold descended over him. He searched deep into Kol’s eyes. “I thought you were taken by the guards.”

  Kol ran a hand through his hair and looked down, speaking quietly. “I was. I paid the price.”

  “What price was that, old friend? Did it happen to involve selling me out?”

  A look of shock, then fear ran through Kol’s eyes. “No. No, never. I would never give those bastards anyone. No, I paid,” he lifted his tunic, “with blood.” Several ragged, red puckered scars lined his chest. “They held me down and had their fun carving on me like I was a roasted wild boar. Believe me, I wouldn’t give them anyone. Once they were done with me they took me out back and dumped me in a pigsty.” He lowered the shirt. “You have nothing to fear from me, Phetrix. My hate for them is far too strong to ever take their coin to sell someone out.”

  Phetrix was shocked at the sight, but did not allow the scars to satisfy his query. Instead, he bore deep into the man’s eyes, and found no sign of falsehood. He relaxed.

  “But how do you know about—” He wanted to say the words but they were not in a place to speak freely. What did Kol know that he didn’t weeks ago? How did he come to this conclusion?

  “Come with me. It’s not safe in here.” Kol turned and walked out the door with Phetrix at his heels.

  As they passed the table where Mortas’ man sat collecting coins, Phetrix thought he detected a slight alteration in the tilt of the man’s head, as if his eyes followed their exit. The thought tightened a band across his chest. The angst did not release him easy. There was something sinister about the man. Phetrix was determined to stay as far away from the man as he could.

  Twenty-Six

  PHETRIX NERVOUSLY WALKED next to Kol as the man led him to a dark alley behind the tavern. Guards were no where to be found and Kol waited as a few drunks stumbled out of the tavern. Once they were out of earshot, he began.

  “You asked about the King?”

  Phetrix nodded.

  “When I was locked up, there was another prisoner with me. He sat in a pool of his own vomit and reeked of ale and tobacco. Not that I was much better.”

  A man walked by the alley and Kol waited, his eyes darting back and forth looking for trouble.

  “After several days of sobering up, he and I got to talking. Nearly two months ago, he’d been in the forest west of Ulti living off the land when he stumbled across a small camp. Hungry, he snuck in at night and stole bread and ale. As he was leaving, he tripped on a log he hadn’t seen in the dark and fell into one of the tents. Inside the tent was an older man who was built like a boulder. Well, it didn’t take long for the older man to beat up my new friend. Bloodied his lip and gave him a swollen eye he did.”

  “What’s this have to do with King Artus? Is there a point to your rambling?” Phetrix leaned close but didn’t smell ale on Kol. He’d cleaned up quite a bit since his imprisonment.

  Kol glared at him, then continued.

  “The man alerted the rest of the camp and soon my friend was surrounded by three other men and a woman. They questioned him, worried he was a spy sent from Mortas. As they were about to kill him, one of the men—at the urging of the woman—put a halt to the proceedings. He declared, ‘Spare this man. Let him be. He’s done nothing we wouldn’t do in his situation. It’s clear he’s not allied against us. Mortas has not sent him.’”

  “Are you implying that was the King? That’s not enough evidence to convince me!”

  Kol brushed off the insult and started again.

  “The woman there came to the man’s side. ‘Artus, you are wise in letting him go. He poses no threat. The more we can show mercy to, the better we will be when the time comes. Mortas would never be as gracious as you.’”

  Kol fell silent, letting the speech sink in.

  “So you’re telling me you believe the King is alive based on the testimony of a fellow drunk who you happened to be in a cell with?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Why would he lie to me? What’s to gain? We were both locked up and awaiting judgment. You asked me a while back if I heard anything and I hadn’t. I’ve stayed far away from those rebels to the north. But since we last spoke . . .” he trailed off, looking down. His hand moved across his chest. “We need to restore the rightful heirs. The reign of Mortas has done much harm to our people.” When he looked back up, his eyes glistened.

  “Kol, what happened to you? Who were you before you became like me, a poor man trying to live off the mercy provided by others?”

  Kol rubbed his hands together and thought about the question before answering.

  “At one time, I was a young squire in the King’s service tending to horses and the stables. After a few years I rose to the level of King’s Guard. I was so proud to wear his colors. To be considered one of the elite.” The gleam in his eyes faded, his gaze drifted down. “Now look at me. I’m nothing. A homeless beggar. A no-one who guards feel free to carve up without recriminations.”

  When he looked up, tears filled his eyes. “I was there, Pendra. Fifteen years ago, I was there. Do you know what it was like to see all those people murdered because of Mortas’s ego? He had no claim to the throne but his evil knew no bounds. Amongst the slaughter many of my fellow guard fled. I called them cowards and urged them to stand and fight to the last man. But none listened. I found myself alone. As the enemy streamed into the castle, I took a look around me and knew in my heart all was lost. Then, to my never-ending shame, I . . . I ran from the destruction and certain death, too. I was weak and knew no better than the others who ran. What makes it worse is I never saw what happened to the royal family. My fear and desire for my own self-preservation won out over my pledge to protect the King and his family at all costs.”

  He wiped the tears away with a violent swipe of his arm. His voice found steel. “Don’t you see. I was a failure. A coward. But no more. If the King still lives, he shall have my sword again and this time I will not fail in my duty.”

  Phetrix inhaled deep. There was much to Kol he didn’t know and this revelation was stunning.

  “You were at the castle when the attack came? Do you know what happened to the children?”

  “Erthic and Elysande? No. I’ve always hoped they made it out alive, but I never found out their fate.”

  Phetrix wondered how much he’d be able to trust Kol. Did their mutual bond of poverty give them enough to go on?

  “What was it about this story this friend of yours told you that makes you believe him?”

  “The way he described the man and woman sounded exactly like King Artus and Queen Gresilda. I could picture them in my mind, older of course.”

  “I’m still not convinced.”

  Kol’s face flashed anger. “I didn’t come here to argue with you! Again, when you asked me about the King before, I had nothing. I’ve since discovered what I believe to be a fact and my first thought was to share it with you. I’ve been looking for you ever since I got out yesterday. Believe me or not, I don’t care. I’ve done what I came here for. I hope the information is useful. If not, then I’ve wasted my time. It doesn’t matter. I intend on finding the King. I’m leaving this village and going west into the forest. If I die searching for King Artus, then at least I died doing something. I’m done with begging because the reign of Mortas has forced me to it!”

  Kol stormed off, muttering something about heirs and life. Phetrix considered running after him to tell him his story, but then backed off. If Kol was right and this tale told in a dungeon was true, then it was best he soon figured out how to contact Samuel. It had been years since he attempted to enter the other realm, fearing he’d lead Mortas to the heirs and all hope be lost. Maybe now it was time to bring them back and reclaim the kingdom.

  Twenty-Seven

  FOUR MEN IN SUITS STEPPED out from nowhere onto the road. A sharp blast of a horn startled them and a ca
r veered away. Three of the men were ready for battle, but Rhoden lifted a hand to restrain them.

  The car bounced over a curb and stopped, the irate driver got out screaming and shaking a threatening hand. He was large both in height and girth. He advanced on them and Mortas eyed him with curiosity.

  As the man drew closer, Mortas nodded to one of his large companions. The man moved to intercept. Seeing him approach, the driver halted. The coloring of his face altered to a brighter red. He sputtered something, pivoted and hurried back to his car. Once inside, he sped away.

  “What strange world is this?” Mortas said.

  Rhoden smiled. “As they say here, you ain't seen nothing yet. But, let me remind you, we need to keep to ourselves. That means as little interaction with the locals as possible. Let me do the talking.”

  Rhoden had returned two days in a row spending time with DeWayne, learning the local customs, terms and items. He was far from expert, but had a better understanding of the people and the geography. On the second trip he gave DeWayne a list of items they would need including, purchasing clothing for the men. They guessed at the sizes and Dwayne placed the orders after taking several gold coins to an exchange shop. The value of the coins was near six thousand dollars, however the owner paid a mere two thousand and that after a lot of haggling. After paying for everything Rhoden required, he still had a few hundred dollars left, not counting the two gold coins he’d kept for himself.

  Rhoden appeared the next day, collected the clothes and disappeared back into his world. An hour later the four men entered the new world.

  As prearranged, DeWayne arrived driving a van. Rhoden opened the passenger door and climbed in while Mortas and his two henchmen eyed the vehicle with uncertainty, before getting inside.

  “Do you have the information I requested?”

  “Yeah. She's at the school right now getting ready for the football game.”

  “Take us there.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  DeWayne drove and Rhoden watched the other men's reactions. Even Mortas's eyes widened as the car accelerated. He remained amazed as the surroundings passed by. But though his curiosity might have been stimulated, he made no comment.

  “These machines are the horses of this world,” Rhoden explained.

  Mortas did not reply, but took in the details. After serving Mortas for many years, Rhoden recognized the man's looks. The one he saw now, was the smug 'I can conquer this land,' look. That bothered Rhoden. He needed to get a foothold in this new land before Mortas had the opportunity to invade it himself. If Rhoden could find both heirs they would keep Mortas occupied for a while, giving Rhoden the chance to make his move. His main advantage was that Mortas had no idea how to create the seam. Though he’d taken to practising magic over the past few years, his skill was low and his patience for the preciseness of the art was lacking. He tended toward the more powerful destruction spells rather than ones requiring finesse.

  They parked in the crowded school lot and walked toward the football stadium. DeWayne paid for five tickets and they entered. Rhoden scanned the grounds for what he now understood were cheerleaders and this was a football game, a contest of strength and speed and shear brute force. From the little he'd seen so far, he thought he'd enjoy watching this football.

  He spied the princess and climbed into the bleachers directly in front of her. They sat and watched for a while, before Mortas said, “Why have you brought me here?”

  “The girl on the field in front of us. The blonde with her hair pulled back into what they call a ponytail, is the princess.”

  Mortas narrowed his gaze and leaned forward. He studied her for a moment. “How can you be sure?”

  He held a hand out and DeWayne placed binoculars in the palm. He lifted them to his eyes and focused them on the girl. Once adjusted he handed them to Mortas.

  “She bears the mark.”

  Mortas placed the glasses against his eyes and jumped in his seat. His hand extended as if trying to touch the image in front of his eyes. His fingers brushed the hat off the head of the man sitting in front. The man spun angrily.

  “Hey. You looking for trouble?”

  Mortas gave an evil smile. “I'm always looking for trouble.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, you found it, buddy.”

  He stood, fists clenched, ready to fight. The two men Mortas brought with him stood as well. The man on the right growled. The offended man froze seeing that both men were bigger than him.

  DeWayne said, “They're not from here. It was an accident. He didn't mean anything by it.”

  The man looked down at Mortas, who flashed a wicked smile. He looked from the twin towers and said, “Well, okay then. As long as it wasn't done on purpose.” He turned around, picked up his hat and moved several rows down.

  The teams took the field and the cheerleaders broke into a chant. They bounced up and down, kicked and leaped. After the kickoff, as the cheers died, the princess set her fluffy flower like things down and reached up to adjust whatever held up her hair. The shirt with the big W on the front rode up exposing her firm flat stomach. However, it did not show enough to see the identifying mark.

  As he had done on the first day, Rhoden cast a spell and the heavy shirt lifted high enough to cover her face, exposing much more than intended. On her left side was a light brown, semi-circular shape, about six inches wide.

  Trying to get a closer look, Mortas leaned forward. He gasped and stared harder through the glasses.

  “Have you seen the mark up close?”

  “No sir, only from a distance, but I'm almost positive it’s the mark—the half crown.”

  “We need to get up close to be certain.”

  A roar went up from the fans as the home team ran to the far end of the field. Rhoden didn't understand the game, but loved the full contact action.

  Mortas stood. “We'll take her now.”

  Rhoden grabbed his master's arm and held tight. The man fumed at the touch. Fire flamed in his eyes.

  “My Lord, this is a different world than ours. We cannot just march down and take her. The people here will react and stop you. It is better to take her when no one else is around.”

  “These peons cannot stand before my power.”

  “Possibly so, but look how many you'd have to take out before you got free. Is it worth the risk of failure? We don't know enough of their capabilities. Look at how many might descend upon us.”

  Mortas scanned the crowd. “What do you suggest?”

  “I still have the seeker overhead watching her. We follow her home and take her there, where fewer people will raise a hand to protect her.”

  Mortas looked at the princess once more. “That will work.”

  “Hey, buddy, you want to sit down so the rest of us can see.”

  Mortas shot the man a withering glare. A second man and a woman added their voices to the complaint.

  DeWayne nudged Rhoden. “We should leave before this gets ugly.”

  “What does one's ugliness have to do with this?”

  “Cause there's all kinds of ugly and one is when a crowd turns on you in such a way as to beat you ugly.”

  Rhoden looked at the angry faces around him. “We should go make preparations, my Lord.”

  Mortas took one more look at the princess, nodded and handed the glasses to Rhoden. He passed them to DeWayne. The four men walked down the bleachers leaving DeWayne to follow.

  Twenty-Eight

  THEY REACHED THE VAN as another loud cheer rose from the stands.

  “Where to, boss?” DeWayne said.

  “Drive, I'll direct you.,” Rhoden said.

  Rhoden connected with the Seeker and followed it to the neighborhood where he'd first discovered the princess. He instructed DeWayne to park several houses down from the target property. Lights were on inside the home.

  “We should get inside before she comes home,” Rhoden said. “We can take her in private then move her to the van.”

  De
Wayne parked. Rhoden turned to face Mortas. “Sire, I'll take one of the men and secure the house. Once that's done we'll wait for her arrival. The driver can pull the van up and we can transfer her.”

  Mortas eyes narrowed. Rhoden spoke in a hurry to avoid the confrontation he knew was coming. “Sire, I'm trying to protect you. Although I am more familiar than you about this strange world, I still do not know what to expect. I have no idea of their capabilities. I would prefer to handle this first to keep you from danger.”

  Mortas gave an almost imperceptible nod. Rhoden turned to DeWayne. “When you see her arrive, move the car forward. Be ready to leave as soon as we're inside.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Rhoden exited and one of the bodyguards followed. As they reached the house, the lights went out. He froze afraid they had been sighted. The house next door had a line of bushes at the front corner of its property. Rhoden ducked behind them to observe the house. Nothing happened for several minutes, but something about the scene looked wrong, though he could not put his finger on what. Without a word to the bodyguard, he crossed to the side of the house, then to the fenced yard behind. He scaled the fence and heard the bodyguard as his bulk made the fence squeal.

  Rhoden was about to step toward the rear door, when the hairs on the back of his neck rose. His skin tingled with alarm. He called up a basic discovery spell and swept his right arm in an arc over his head, sending the energy outward. A fine green hue formed in horizontal lines along the house.

  He shook off the momentary surprise, understanding now what had made him on edge. There were others in this world capable of magic. Or was this the work of one man? Of course Phetrix would set up protection for the young royals. Well, the old magician was no match for his skills.

  Rhoden strode to the middle of the yard, scanned the entire width of the structure and spoke words in a language long dead, calling forth energies only few knew existed. Though this world's sources were weaker than at home, he was still able to draw what he needed.