Peron pulled the cloth off the structure with an artistic flourish, his smile as wide as can be. He revealed a wood structure, the face of it flat and rectangular, like a small table turned on end, with holes drilled into the surface. Behind the wood face was the mechanics. There was a stout wood wheel, and gears, many gears, all of which seemed to be connected to various worm gears, which in turn were connected to what looked like five powerful crossbows. When one cranked the wheel, it turned the gears, which turned the worm gear, which slowly pulled the tight string back on each bow arm at the same time. But the bows were not a normal design. They were longer, the strings, when pulled back by the gears, drew three bolts back, each one lined in tubes that ran through the holes in the front. A lever on the side was the trigger, and when pulled down, released all five strings simultaneously, launching a total of fifteen bolts at one time. It was slow to load, and even slower to draw the bolts back, but once done would unleash devastating power.
“What is that?” Kyron asked, stepping closer.
“I call it the Stopper, as it will stop anything,” Peron said excitedly. “I’ve been working on it for months, and with all this fuss about the demon I thought it a good time to complete it. Look here,” he said to Kyron as he directed his friend to the back of the weapon. “When I crank this wheel, it draws all five arms back. When the lever is pressed on the side it fires fifteen bolts.”
“I can see why you call it the Stopper,” Kyron said. “But why is it in your room?”
“After the attack on the Earl at Gyeen I thought it wise to protect myself. If anyone comes through that room they will be in trouble.”
Kyron smiled and shook his head. “They will definitely be stopped,” he said, hinting at the last word.
“Exactly!”
“But how will you pull the lever if you are in bed?”
“I’m going to rig up a rope system that hangs by the bed,” Peron added, already having a solution to that problem. “And look here,” he said, guiding Kyron to the door that led out onto his veranda. Being in the royal wing of the palace meant they were three stories up. Peron’s chambers consisted of a large sitting room filled with shelves of books, and warm soft chairs, all facing a massive fireplace. From there was a door that led into his sleeping chamber. This room also had a fireplace, which was necessary in all castles to chase away the damp cold. The veranda was small and looked out to a courtyard below, the castle wall thirty paces away. He could sit at his veranda and watch soldiers patrol the wall, the height to the top of the wall just a few paces below his vantage point. On the edge of the Veranda was another wood contraption. It looked like a giant crossbow mounted on a wood base, bringing the weapon to just over the height of the railing.
“Looks like a big crossbow,” Kyron said as they moved to the weapon.
“It is, but it doesn’t shoot your typical bolts,” Peron added.
Once Kyron got closer he could see that the bolt was bigger and of a heavier design, the steel tip adorned with three barbs each as thick as a finger. At the end of the long bolt, attached behind the fletching to a steel eye loop, was a rope coiled up at the base of the weapon, the end already tied to the strong stone railing that wrapped around the veranda. “Don’t tell me that is designed to shoot to the far wall,” Kyron asked incredulously, gauging the distance.
Peron smiled. “It is. I’ve already tested it and it works. If I hit over the battlements correctly, when pulled back the barbs dig into the stone edge.”
“Okay,” Kyron said slowly, trying to figure it out. “Then what?”
“I can tie it off and use this piece of leather to slide down the rope to the wall and make my escape.” Peron lifted a leather belt off the weapon and showed it to Kyron. It was about half as long as a typical belt, but each end had loops for your hands.
“Why not just drop a rope to the ground?”
Peron lifted his eyebrows and replied with a mischievous smile. “That would be no fun. Besides, whoever was attacking me could just follow. They would think twice about trying to follow me to the wall.”
“That’s because it’s dangerous. Have you tested this,” Kyron asked skeptically.
“Not yet. Figured it would only be worth the risk if I was desperate.”
“Well let’s hope you will never have to find out if it works. Do you really think you are in danger?”
Peron shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’d rather be ready. I have one more thing to show you. Come here,” he added as he walked back inside and went to the dresser near his bed. On it was a small crossbow. “Take a look at this,” Peron said as he lifted it up for Kyron to see.
“You built a small crossbow?”
“I did, but the design gives it far more power than a typical bow of its size. And, I’ve reworked the draw with these gears to counter the power of the bow, making it easier and faster to crank back but still maintaining the power. Look here,” he said, lifting up a bolt from the bed. Then he grabbed the small handle on the side near the grip and turned it quickly. The gears cranked and the worm gear quickly drew the string back, locking it into place. Then he placed the bolt into the slide. It only took him a few moments to do both.
Kyron looked closer at the bolt. “What is that on the bolt’s tip?”
Peron’s face lit up with excitement. “That is a special surprise. I had Master Moran make me an oil of sharpness.” Peron saw that Kyron did not know what that was. Few did, as most did not have a powerful court wizard on hand to make them magical things. It was one of the many things that Peron learned about while studying at Shyval. “It’s enchanted oil, that when rubbed on a blade or point, adds a magical quality to it. You see how shiny the head is?”
Kyron looked more closely. “It looks like the steel tip has been polished.”
“Exactly. The oil has been liberally applied and polished into the steel points. This bolt will penetrate pretty much any armor. I have it on the Stopper bolts as well as my sword,” Peron added as he nodded towards his rapier hanging on a peg near the door. It was a well-made sword forged just for him. It was light and not too long, making it much easier for him to wield.
“What about a demon?” Kyron asked sarcastically.
But Peron was dead serious. “I think so, but as you said, let’s hope I don’t have to find out.”
“Well you sure have been busy,” Kyron said, shaking his head in bewilderment. He was always so impressed with Peron’s inventions and schemes and was amazed at what he could accomplish when he set his mind to it. “Have you heard from your father’s contingent yet?”
“No,” he said. “The treaty might take a day or two to hash out, not to mention it’s a week back from Angar. He said he would send runners ahead of him so we could prepare for the Arrival of Princess Kylin.”
“They’ve been gone now for over a week, right?”
“Nine days. We should see the advance vanguard soon.”
Kyron nodded. “Well I better get moving. I don’t want to make the General wait,” Kyron said as he walked to the door.
“Congratulations on the contract,” Peron added as he saw his friend to the door.
“It’s a start,” Kyron added, smiling as he opened the door. Nodding to the arrow contraption on the far wall he added, “Don’t shoot yourself with that thing.”
Peron smiled. “I won’t. Talk to you soon.” And he shut the door behind him.
***
The foursome traveled hard through the thick forest, and at the end of the first day they came to a well-traveled road that led north and south.
Tyril indicated north. “This is the main road from Gyveel to Lanard. It’s north we go.”
Jonas figured it was the same road that he and Tulari had traveled before she had led them west, over the bridge, and deeper into the Lasur’een Forest to find Atticus, Tyril, and Kylin. But now they were much further north. “How long to Lanard?” he asked.
Tyril pursed his lips in thought. “My guess is we will reach the city
in two days.”
Jonas looked at Tulari who stood facing north. “Which way girl?” She looked back at him and barked softly, then she moved north down the road. “Good,” Jonas said keeping pace behind her. “I’m tired of cutting through that forest.” The others vocally agreed and followed their lead. They all had various scratches, testament to the thick brush they were forced to travel through as they followed Tulari.
Another two hours later Tyril walked next to Bearit, the big logger keeping pace just behind Jonas. At times Jonas would scout the forest, or run ahead with Tulari, but always he would come back appearing suddenly and without a sound. At this time he was nearly thirty paces ahead, taking point with Tulari.
Tyril looked sidelong at Bearit. “Thank you for saving my life the other night.” He felt bad that he had been burned so severely in knocking him out of the way of the demon’s breath. He had thanked him already, several times, but felt the need to do so again.
“I just reacted.”
“Maybe so,” Tyril said. “But not everyone would have reacted similarly.”
“Well you’re welcome…again.” The corner of Bearit’s lip lifted in a light smile. Tyril nodded. “That’s a magnificent axe. Have you had much experience with it?”
Bearit shook his head. “No, not much at all. Jonas has been training me, but we’ve had little time.”
“How did you come to travel with him?” Jonas had mentioned briefly how they had met nearly a week ago, but his telling had been vague.
“It’s a long story,” Bearit replied.
Tyril smiled. “Nothing better than a good story to kill a traveler’s time.”
Bearit shrugged his huge shoulders agreeing. “Three years ago my dad was killed in a logging accident. After that the contracts dried up. No one wanted to work with a sixteen year old.”
Tyril looked at him sideling. “You’re only nineteen?”
“Not quite yet.”
“I would never have guessed,” Tyril added. “I would have assumed you were three to four years my senior, at least.”
“I get that a lot. After that I couldn’t pay the taxes on my father’s land. The king’s men took my home and I roamed the land looking for work. I found it occasionally, but mostly I went to sleep cold and hungry.”
“You lived for years like this?” Tyril asked incredulously. It was hard for him to imagine. His father was the Battle Lord, hence he always had what he wanted and needed. The idea of having no home or food was hard for him to grasp.
Bearit glanced at him. “You’re a lord aren’t you?” He didn’t say it with any scorn. It was just a simple acknowledgement of the obvious.
“Yes,” Tyril replied. “My father is the Battle Lord, although I don’t know if he is still alive.”
“I’m sorry. Was he at Angar when the Tur’el king ambushed them?” They had briefly talked of the event the day before, but with all that had been discussed Bearit was having a hard time remembering it all.
Tyril nodded. “Actually, he was with me when we were ambushed. He ordered me to run with the princess while he and the rest of the men held off the assassins.”
Bearit looked at the young warrior and saw the pain. So he decided to change the subject and continue his story. “Not long ago some men found me cold and starving in an alleyway, and lured me to the catacombs beneath Gyeen. They promised me food and work, so I followed. There were perhaps ten to fifteen others there, just like me, of various ages.”
“Did they give you food and work?”
Bearit looked ashamed. “They gave me food and ale, but they were torturing Jonas.”
“Who were these men?”
“Your warriors,” he said directly. “They were the Red Guard warriors that Maltheil had turned when he escaped. They were planning on luring us to him.”
Tyril looked ahead, his thoughts going to the missing men. He wondered if he knew any of them. It made him sick to think of what Maltheil had done to them. “And Jonas killed them?”
Bearit nodded. “He was tied with ropes and they were burning him. I was…sickened, but I did nothing at first.” Tyril looked at him questionably, but said nothing. It was obvious that the logger was wrestling with his own demons, likely feeling guilty for being there in the first place. “It was like he was waiting,” he said slowly, thinking back to that dark room.
Tyril crinkled his brow. “Waiting for what?”
“Me,” Bearit said without hesitation. “He was waiting for someone to show courage, to stand up to what was happening, despite the draw of hunger.”
“So you did help him?”
Bearit nodded. “His armor flared brightly, like it did when we fought the demons. And he killed them all. I killed one with my woodsman’s axe, but would have been slain if he hadn’t saved me.”
“And you’ve been with him since?”
“I have. He promised to train me, at least until I can wield this,” he added, looking over his shoulder to the silver axe, “properly.”
“Where did you get that axe? It looks like a king’s weapon.”
“Jonas bought me everything that you see.”
“Wonderful gifts.” Tyril said nothing more for a few moments as they continued down the road. A gust of wind blew towards them, shaking the branches around them, scattering leaves into the air. It was cold, and the wind sought out his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Reaching up he wrapped his cloak more tightly around his shoulders. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like him. What did he have on his arm when he killed that demon?”
“You mean that translucent shield?”
By this time Kylin had woken from her trance and come closer, interested in their conversation as she picked up the tail end of Bearit’s story. She had been morose and silent the last few days, speaking little and keeping her head down. She was worried what would become of her, and the stress of the unknown had occupied her mind. “I was wondering the same,” she added. “Can he wield magic?”
Bearit looked at her as she stepped closer. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure what that was but he did tell me that he had a special gift…somethin’ to do with mental powers, although I didn’t fully understand it.”
Kylin’s eyes were wide. “He is an Ishmian?”
Bearit nodded, thinking back to their conversation the night he had met Jonas. “I believe so. If I recall correctly Jonas had mentioned that he was an…Ish..?”
“…mian,” Tyril finished for him, seeing that Bearit was struggling with the pronunciation. “It’s the elven name for a cognivant,” Tyril added. They both had been educated and were aware of the rare talent. Although neither of them had ever met a cognivant.
“Then yes, he is an Ishmian,” Bearit reasoned.
“That’s incredible,” she added. “They are extremely rare.”
“So you think that shield he formed was somehow connected to his cognivant ability?” Tyril asked, a bit skeptical. “Did you see that demon’s fist? It hit his shield and it might as well have hit the wall surrounding Lanard. It did nothing to the shield or to Jonas. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Kylin shrugged unknowingly. “I know that some cognivants can move things with their minds. Maybe Jonas can form this shield with his mind. I do not know. My teacher knew very little of their abilities.”
They walked together for a little longer before Tyril spoke again. “You know, Bearit, we could use men like you in the Red Guard. I think you could pass the tests with a little more training. Have you ridden a horse before?”
Bearit grimaced. “Just once, and I hated it.”
Tyril smiled. “Well you will have to learn to ride. But I can help you with that, if you’d like. I would vouch for you, and that would be enough to get you in the training. From there it would be up to you to pass.”
Bearit lifted his eyebrows. “You would do that?”
“Of course. You have the makings to be a fine warrior. It’s the least I can do for saving my life.”
Bearit p
ressed his lips together in thought. “I shall think on it. Thank you.”
***
Peron was exhausted. He had been working hard on completing a third protection mask, as well as putting the finishing touches on his other inventions. He really had no idea if he was in danger. All he knew was that monsters had attacked Earl Magnar, the demon had escaped, and that somewhere the beast roamed, likely amassing a sizable force of demon-spawn. Although he could use a sword, he was no warrior, and he had to do whatever it took to protect himself. For him that meant using his mind, and that’s exactly what he had done. Whether or not his concepts would work when put to the test he did not know, and as he told Kyron, he hoped he would not need to find out.
He had worked well into the night in his shop and finally decided to head to his chambers. The castle had long ago fallen asleep, but his guards followed him to his room and two of them remained outside his door, ever vigilant. Yawning, he took off his thick wool jerkin and cotton undershirt. Both were dirty and sweaty from working in his shop and he didn’t smell much better. Servants had built up the fire in the main room, and he knew from experience that the fire in his sleeping chambers would have been burning for some time now, warming the cold castle air. There was a fresh bowl of water on his wash table and he went to it, dipping the cloth beside it and washing his face and armpits. Then he walked to his dresser and opened it, taking out a clean cotton night shirt. He was just about to step out of his cotton breaches and boots when he heard a loud thud at the door, followed by another, the second powerful enough to shake the door on it hinges.
Peron turned towards the door, moving cautiously towards it. He remembered one of the soldier’s names and called to him through the thick oak door. “Towin,” he said, “are you okay?” There was no reply. Peron walked closer. “Is something wrong?” he asked again, this time louder. Just then he saw something move under the door, and it froze him in place. It was blood, pooling slowly under the door, and inching its way towards him. Peron’s heart pounded in his chest and he froze with indecision. Should he check on the men? Were they injured? Did they need his help against the assailant? Should he run? The indecision paralyzed him.
The Shadow Knight (A Shadow Knight Novel Book 1) Page 21
