The cleaver-wielding chef was an exceptionally large man, and his wiry prey adeptly ducked under a mighty swing of his massive blade. He started towards the door, but pulled up short when he saw Aldrick standing there. He glanced around desperately for another escape route while dodging another swing of the giant cleaver.
The cook seemed highly motivated to dispatch this problem for Aldrick, but he was clearly having difficulty catching the sinewy assassin. Aldrick launched himself impulsively at the ruffian, but partway realized he had no weapon, while his opponent wielded a sharp dagger. He tried to stop, but skidded on a patch of spilled cooking oil and lost his balance, falling ungracefully to the hard stone floor. Seeing an opportunity to escape, the man leapt over Aldrick and ran towards freedom.
“Get back here Khelvar!” the head cook shouted helplessly.
Tiberius arrived and stood in the doorway, scanning the scene in awe. Startled by the assailant, he put his hands out in an awkward attempt to stop the fleeing malefactor, but felt a sudden searing pain in his left arm. Tiberius fell back in pain and shock, gaping at the hilt of a large knife protruding from his arm. Khelvar leapt past him and escaped into the hallway.
Aldrick recovered and rushed to the doorway, but Khelvar had already disappeared around a corner. Furious, his first thought was to chase Khelvar down and bring him to justice but he paused, worried the knife might be poisoned and knowing his father was the first priority. He dashed back inside the kitchen and grabbed the cleanest rag he could find. Returning to his father who lay prone on the floor, he quickly wrapped the cloth above the stab wound as a tourniquet.
“We need to get you to the physician,” Aldrick said, the concern clear in his voice. “Are you feeling sick? Can you stand?”
Pale and sweating profusely, Tiberius struggled to his feet with help from his son. “I’m fine. You should go after that bastard.”
“He’s gone,” Aldrick sighed.
Tiberius stumbled as they started down the hall. “Don’t worry about me. This is just a flesh wound.”
“Nevertheless,” Aldrick said, securing his grip on his father. “But I will need you to tell me which way to go…”
Chapter 15
By the following day, the violent storm had mellowed into a slow wet drizzle. Low lying areas were flooded from the large amount of water deposited the day before, and whole sections of the ramshackle spectator camp had been forced to move, or find themselves sitting squarely in the middle of a small lake. Everyone was soaked to the bone, and the general mood of the populace was less than cheerful.
After breakfast, Aldrick returned to the physician to check on his father. He was relieved to find him sitting up in bed, and moderately cheerful. “You look better.”
Tiberius rubbed his bandaged arm and grimaced. “It hurts, but I’m grateful he didn’t put his dagger into a more vital area, like my chest.”
“Perhaps next time you’ll disarm him first,” Aldrick said with a thin smile.
“I’ll leave the fighting to you. You inherited your physical prowess from your mother. She was the fighter.” His grimace turned into a sly smile. “Of course you did get your brains from your old man!”
Aldrick smiled, but his eyes were pensive. “Unfortunately, I didn’t possess either quality last night. You were hurt, and I allowed Khelvar to escape.”
“That could have happened to anyone. How did this Khelvar get into the palace in the first place?”
Aldrick sat down on a wooden chair next to the bed. “I returned last night to speak with the head chef, Berach. He told me that our man, calling himself Khelvar, arrived a few days ago looking for work. Berach didn’t care for him, but he seemed to know his way around the kitchen. They have been overloaded with work because of the Tournament, so Berach took him on against his better judgment.”
Tiberius shifted in his bed. “Is Khelvar his real name?”
Aldrick shrugged. “I’m not sure. When they caught Khelvar pouring something into the wine, he tried to escape. Berach assumed he was trying to poison Brodan and lost his temper, knowing he would be blamed, as head of the kitchen. Most likely they would have hung him.”
Doctor Quintus strolled in, a round man with spectacles on his ruddy, friendly face and a jovial smile nearly as big as he was. “Well now, hello, hello. How is my patient this fine morning?”
“I’m fine Doctor, though I’m still having a lot of pain. Do you have anything for that?” Tiberius asked with a hopeful smile.
“Ah, good, good. Well, let me see, I suppose a spot of Asturian mint might help with the pain. I’ll have my nurse prepare it into a tea for you. How would that be?”
“Thank you,” Tiberius nodded.
“Excuse me, Doctor Quintus,” Aldrick interjected. “A colleague of my father’s was brought here last night as well, a noble named Gormond. How is he?”
“Ah yes, yes, good old Gormond,” Doctor Quintus replied with a smile. “I enjoy having him here. Compared to him, I look positively thin! Ha-ha!” The physician laughed with his hands on his quivering belly.
Aldrick cleared his throat. “Indeed, but how is he?”
“Oh, yes, fine, fine. Fortunately, he made it through the night. I now suspect he should recover.”
Aldrick hesitated before asking, “What was your diagnosis?”
“Well, yes, yes. While not my area of expertise, I would conclude from his symptoms that Gormond was poisoned. Most likely Iokan Extract or Thallium powder, though I suspect the latter. The symptoms could be either poison, but Thallium powder is dosed for body weight, which would explain how it was Gormond survived.”
“Dosed for body weight?” Aldrick asked.
“Yes, yes. One would prepare a dose according to the weight of the intended victim. Thallium powder is very difficult to detect, but quite expensive, so one would dose carefully. Gormond probably survived as the poison dose was intended for a smaller man…of course that could have been anyone! Ha-ha.”
Tiberius wrinkled his eyes in mirth. “So are you saying that being fat actually saved his life?”
“Right, quite right! Ha-ha!” Doctor Quintus giggled, before becoming more serious. “I am concerned however, since Thallium powder comes only from Illyrian mines near Kishen. It is illegal, of course, so use of it may indicate an Illyrian plot to kill our regent, Brodan.”
“I believe the assassin is Illyrian,” Aldrick mused. “Thallium powder could be obtained on the black market of course, but the dagger Khelvar used is also of Illyrian origin.”
“Yes, yes, quite right,” Doctor Quintus agreed. “Very well, I will send the nurse in with the Asturian mint tea forthwith.” With a rusty and barely noticeable bow, Doctor Quintus swiveled about and waddled out.
Aldrick looked at his father and raised an eyebrow. “My theory of an Illyrain Triad no longer seems so far-fetched now, does it?”
“Even if the poison and dagger are Illyrian, that does not necessarily mean that the Triads are back, and operational.”
“Of course,” Aldrick admitted. “But the evidence is certainly compelling.”
Chapter 16
It was another two days before the torrential rains of the frigid northern storm were spent at last. The dawn of the third day brought clear blue skies and a very welcome warm breeze. The fields prepared for the Archery competition began to dry in the warm sun as the morning progressed, and criers were dispatched to announce the resumption of the Tournament of the King.
The mood of the general populace had turned rather gloomy over the course of the severe storm, but with the change of weather temperaments began to brighten almost immediately. Crowds swarmed the market and Tournament fields, and the fair was full of cheerful and happy faces. The entire city was excited and optimistic, except for one man.
Aldrick had little interest in the Archery contest. He was behind on his research, and wanted to begin tracking down the missing artifact. He was also worried about his father, stuck in bed to heal and avoid the risk of infection
.
He also did not wish to attend the Archery event out of concern for the safety of his family. While Khelvar remained free to finish the job begun on the road to Akkadia, his family was not safe. The risk of that villain attacking him and his family was a constant threat, and Aldrick found it difficult to enjoy the frivolity of the Tournament and its various festivals.
“Why don’t you want to go?” Jelénna asked again, this time with a slight whine in her otherwise silken voice.
“I just don’t want to.”
“Aldrick, I know you too well. You are a terrible liar. It’s because you’re worried about us, isn’t it?”
Aldrick tried unsuccessfully to hide his troubled smile.
Jelénna sat down on the bed beside her husband and put an arm around him. “We will be surrounded by Brodan’s guards. I’m certain they will more than suffice to protect us from that wretched little man.”
“I don’t know...”
“Come with us today Aldrick,” Jelénna pleaded. “Adrias and I have been cooped up in the palace for days. We need to get out! Everyone will be at the Tournament and the festivals today. Please Aldrick, it will be fun. I promise!”
Jelénna concluded her petition with some very dramatic batting of eyelashes, coupled with big weepy eyes; a combination Aldrick found impossible to resist. He took one look at her, and found he could only laugh. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. You know I can’t say no when you do that.”
With a small knowing smile, Jelénna nodded. “Yes dear, I know.”
By the time Aldrick and his family arrived, spectators had already stuffed the stands to overflowing, leaving standing room only. Fortunately, seats had been set-aside for Brodan and his closest advisors, centered on the eastern side of the archery field. Confined inside for days, the populace was more than ready to get out and enjoy the beautiful spring weather. It likely would not have mattered what was taking place; the people were too anxious to get out and enjoy the day, regardless of the activity.
Brodan greeted them warmly upon their arrival, indicating open seats with a flourish. “It’s great to see you all! How is your father, Aldrick?”
“He’s fine. The wound was deep, but appears to be healing well.”
“That was quite the excitement, I heard.”
Aldrick changed the subject. “Are you prepared for today?”
Brodan nodded. “Yes, I’ve been practicing and I’m feeling confident. I must do well today; the forthcoming Joust is not my specialty, and I’m only tied for second place behind that peasant, Gilmoure. I’m certain to win the Crown Run of course, but I must get there first.”
“That’s a bit presumptuous.”
Brodan raised an eyebrow, and then laughed. “Not when you are the best, it’s not!”
“Of course,” Aldrick said with a chuckle.
A horn cried out one long forlorn note, and the crowd began to settle down. In a booming voice, a tall bearded man announced the official start of the Archery competition, to thunderous applause. When he could continue, he called for the first group of contestants to enter the field.
Brodan retrieved an ornate short bow he had leaning against the side of the box, along with a small quiver of crimson fletched arrows. “That’s my cue,” he sighed. “I’m in the first round today. I just want to get this over with.”
“Good luck!” Aldrick said with a smile.
He was pondering the apparent change of attitude in the regent, when Jelénna commented on it. “Brodan’s in a good mood today, isn’t he?”
“I noticed,” Aldrick agreed. “Perhaps now that the Tournament has begun, he feels more relaxed. He’s almost acting as if he’d already won.”
The horn blared again, and a dozen archers lined up on the field, preparing for their shot. From their vantage point, Aldrick had a clear view of the targets and would see the result of each round as they occurred.
The archers nocked their arrows and pulled the strings taut, awaiting the signal to release. A third horn blast sounded and a dozen arrows launched across the field, thudding into their respective targets.
With round one complete, Aldrick could see Brodan had placed his arrow dead center in the target, receiving full points. Sir Marinus had as well, although his was not centered quite as precisely. The remaining shots fell within the scoring rings of the target, but no one else had struck the center ring. It had still been an exciting round, with nearly all shots in scoring position, and the crowd cheered and applauded.
Brodan strolled back to his seat while the judges went to each target in turn, marking down the respective scores. Several nobles delayed his return, wishing to both congratulate the regent on his winning shot, and ingratiate themselves to the most likely candidate for king. Several others appeared to shake his hand and wish him well, and the start of the second round had already been announced by the time he managed to return to his seat.
At the sound of the horn, the next group of archers launched their arrows. From his vantage point, it was clear to Aldrick this group was not nearly as good as the first. None of the arrows struck the center ring, and several landed outside of the scoring area altogether. Brodan looked quite pleased with the results of the second round, if the grumbling crowd was not.
The second group of archers filed off the field looking despondent, as Aldrick and the regent discussed the results of the round. Jelénna stood up and stretched. “Adrias needs to use the facilities. I’m going to take him.”
Aldrick grunted. “I told him to go before we left.”
“You know how children are, dear.”
“If you must, but take a guard with you.”
Jelénna leaned down and whispered, “Do I have to? I’m not certain I feel much safer with these brutes, than without.”
Aldrick took her hand. “I would feel much better if you did.”
Jelénna gazed into his eyes for a moment, before nodding. “Fine dear.”
Jelénna and Adrias, with a reluctant guard in tow, pushed their way through the crowd as the third round contenders gathered in the staging area. Brodan nudged Aldrick and pointed. A tall man sauntered into view with a beautiful woman on one arm, and a familiar lanky fellow trailing behind.
“See that man with the girl on his arm?” The regent nearly spat. “That’s the point leader, Gilmoure. What do you know about him?”
Aldrick hesitated for only a moment. “Not much, I only met him briefly after the Melee. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” Brodan mused. “He has been sponsored by some noble family from the Kannes region, represented by that fellow with him. I don’t remember his name.”
“I believe his name is Warren.”
“Yes, that’s right. Gilmoure is a mystery, however. He is turning out to be my primary contender and I have learned almost nothing about him. Someone must know something about this man!”
The lone cry of the horn announced the next round, and the third group of contenders filed out onto the field to their assigned spots. While they prepared, Aldrick spotted Jelénna and Adrias returning, pushing their way back through the crowd. He watched them briefly, smiling when a light spring breeze caught her hair and it fluttered out just so. Aldrick waved when they made eye contact, but her return wave was cut short when she suddenly wheeled and screamed.
Aldrick jumped to his feet. The archers preparing their shots and the clamor of the crowd talking and laughing faded into the background as Aldrick saw the unimaginable. Like a waking nightmare, Khelvar popped out of the crowd, and in a flash grabbed Adrias. His son thrashed about, kicking and yelling, but Khelvar dragged him in the opposite direction like a squirming sack of grain. The crowd had closed in between Jelénna and her son and it was too late for her to help him. Pushing her way after them, she helplessly called out his name.
Aldrick leapt to his feet, scanning the crowd for the guard, but could see no sign of him. Brodan called after him as he vaulted down from the stands, but Aldrick ignored him and ran towards his son.
The immediate area around them was free of spectators, but the majority of the crowd did not seem to realize anything was amiss; they only saw another vexed father dragging his misbehaving son home.
Aldrick could now see Khelvar, with his son in tow, nearing an exit. In a sudden flash of insight, he knew he would need to stop the man before he exited the archery field, otherwise it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find them in the confusion of the Tournament. With no concern for his own safety, Aldrick cut across the archery field, inadvertently putting himself in the line of fire of the archers preparing their shots.
He saw Khelvar approaching the exit and cursed breathlessly, realizing he could not close the remaining distance in time. Abruptly, he found himself in front of Gilmoure, who had his arrow nocked, awaiting the signal to shoot. Aldrick pointed, and gasped in desperation, “Stop that man, he is kidnapping my son!”
The Key of Creation: Book 01 - Rise of the Destroyer Page 13
