Songs of the Eternal Past- Complete Trilogy

by C S Vass

  Fiona thought the plan would be to sneak into Draknun and take advantage of whatever defensive flaws Raejo’s castle might have had as a result of its intended purpose as a temple. Jet had something quite different in mind.

  He explained as they slipped through the darkness.

  Once a month merchants from throughout the province would go to Raejo’s castle. Part festival, part bazaar, wealthy buyers and eager sellers would gather together along with musicians, fools, and anyone else who could entertain them. For Raejo it was an important opportunity for the province’s elite to socialize and scheme. For Fiona and Jet, it was the time when Raejo would be the most publicly accessible and therefore the most vulnerable.

  Jet knew that in order to get into the castle they needed passes. Passes which could be obtained through a bribe. While Fiona slept and Jet visited his comrades to find someone to watch over Geoff, he had obtained a fair amount of silver from them. He hadn’t revealed the purpose he would put their money to, but his reputation was such among his friends that when he asked they did not refuse them.

  When they approached Draknun Jet stopped. “Fiona.” His voice was deadly serious. “This is the last time I want to be involved in operations against Raejo. I’m going to see this through to the end. No matter what. Are you sure you want to come with me?”

  Fiona met his eyes. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be. Let’s do this, once and for all, together.”

  So it was, together they entered Draknun to see an end to the tyrant once and for all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Draknun was starting to awaken as Jet and Fiona crept into town. Fiona quickly noticed that unlike Barrowbog, with its wide marshy landscape and sparsely laid out houses, Draknun felt like a true town. They moved past tall buildings with garments hanging from clothing lines that ran between balconies like spiderwebs shimmering in the light of dawn.

  “Let’s stop a moment,” Jet said as they moved through the streets.

  She turned. “What is it?”

  Jet took a breath. “Fiona, once we go inside there’s no turning back. You’ve already done so much for us. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you. But all the same, I have to ask. Are you absolutely sure that you want to go through—”

  “I’m with you. I told you that from the beginning.” She took his hand in her own and looked into his sky-blue eyes. “When I came to Morrordraed, there were two things that immediately struck me. The kindness of your father, and the sincerity of your cause. I’ll be with you until this ends.”

  Jet nodded. He seemed to be struggling to decide what to say, but in the end he said only, “Thank you.”

  Raejo’s palace was tucked behind a massive wall, the entrance of which was busy with the carts and wagons of a dozen merchants. More were steadily arriving.

  Fiona spotted a merchant by himself, a man in his middle years with a long grey beard and a wagon filled with various jars and vials.

  “Can I buy your pass to get into the castle?” she asked.

  The man’s eyes narrowed, and he muttered something vulgar. In an instant Jet grabbed her by the arm and led her away.

  “What was that?” he hissed at her.

  “What?”

  “You can’t just walk up and ask someone that!”

  “Why not? How do you expect to get in?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Try just a bit of tact. Honestly…”

  She frowned at him but made no comment.

  “Watch me,” he said. “Quietly.”

  Jet strolled through the crowds, scanning the area. Quickly finding his target, he approached a husband and wife. They stared suspiciously at him.

  “Mother, father,” he said respectfully with a wide smile. “How are you today?”

  The man eyed Jet suspiciously. “Blessed to have eaten morning porridge,” he formally replied.

  Jet nodded. “I notice you don’t carry much in the way of wares. What brings you to the palace of our lord?”

  “A lack of fortune,” the woman said. “We don’t usually come, but we have need to sell some heirlooms of our house. Our son, Braylen, he has been accepted into the Magicka University.”

  “Congratulations to him,” Jet grinned. “He must be a bright young man.”

  The father bristled at Jet’s compliment. “I had other intentions for him, but he has been insistent. The life of a farmer doesn’t suit him. It wouldn’t be a trouble but for the cost. We’re here to sell some silver trinkets from my grandfather’s grandfather. I suppose I should make the trade of mere things for my son’s happiness easily, but still…”

  “A hard situation,” Jet said. “I’m sure your son appreciates your sacrifice. You must have great need, to have spent additional money just to gain your passes to enter the castle.”

  “We do have urgent need to recoup our losses,” the father agreed. “But there’s nothing to be done.”

  “Family heirlooms have value beyond mere price,” Jet said. “It wouldn’t be right to lose it. What if you earned some coin for your trouble and kept the silver?” Smiling broadly Jet slipped the man a coin pouch. The wife balked, but the husband cautiously opened the purse and gasped.

  “I would simply ask for your passes, and your discretion,” Jet said. “Is that a fair exchange?”

  The husband and wife whispered some word to each other relatively quickly. They seemed concerned, but the husband nodded.

  “No sense in us lingering about then,” the husband said as he handed Jet two passes stamped with a royal insignia. His wife looked at him like she wanted to say something, but pressed her lips together tightly. Seeming unsure of themselves, the couple quickly walked away.

  “Not too shabby,” Jet said with a smirk.

  Fiona rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure I would take so much pride in proficiency in the deceptive arts.”

  “Well whatever you want to call it, it worked.”

  Just then a trumpet sounded throughout the area. They turned to see the thick wooden gates swing outward, and slowly the people began to shuffle inside.

  “This is it,” Jet said. “We should move slowly. Act like it’s a chore to be here. A boring waste of a day.”

  “What do we do when we get inside?” Fiona asked.

  Jet shrugged. “Improvise.”

  They moved up the dusty path behind a group of troupers with painted faces who were throwing a variety of objects between them including several balls, an axe, a vase, something unidentifiable that seemed to be burning hot to the touch, and a chicken. Before long they were at the checkpoint.

  “Purpose?” a fat guard with a curly mustache asked.

  Fiona looked at him blankly as Jet handed the passes.

  “Purpose for attendance?” the guard said, raising his eyebrow.

  “Entertainment,” Jet said quickly. “She has the voice of a mermaid. Prettier than lavender on the wind. I’m her coach.”

  “Care to give a demonstration?”

  Fiona felt her hand drift instinctively to the hilt of her sword, but Jet placed his own firmly on the back. “Absolutely not,” he said, sounding offended. “She needs to save every note for our lord.”

  The guard seemed to only be half listening while he squinted at their passes. “Alright then.” He waved them in without so much as looking at them again.

  Hardly believing that the plan was working so simply Fiona moved into the inner yard. They were in a beautiful garden in the shadow of a grey, spear-like keep. Stone gargoyles with purple flowers growing out of their ears roared while water fell from their wide mouths.

  “This is it,” Jet said as the rest of the attendees began to set up. “We shouldn’t rush anything, but take our time to—”

  Jet stopped speaking abruptly as he noticed a broad-shouldered guard with naked steel in his hand in front of him. The guard grinned wickedly.

  Fiona glanced back and realized that they were surrounded.

  “I think I would like to hear a voice as pretty as laven
der on the wind,” the guard who waved them in sneered.

  Fiona didn’t hesitate, but neither did her enemies. Her hand had only brushed the hilt of her demon-pommel blade when something hard struck her in the face. She fell to the ground only to feel rough hands seize her from all directions while she heard Jet struggling. It wasn’t long before he was tossed on the ground beside her.

  Through the bodies of the soldiers Fiona saw the husband and wife who had sold them their passes watching fearfully. She shot them the most evil look she could muster before she was led away.

  * * *

  The soldiers ushered them into a great hall filled with dozens of pieces of crystal that refracted the light into an explosion of rainbow color. They followed a wool carpet threaded with silver patterns to the foot of a massive wooden throne. Most dazzling of all was an enormous window of brilliantly patterned stained glass that looked like a portal to another realm.

  “You will await Lord Raejo,” the broad-shouldered guard said in a booming voice. “I’m sure he’s very eager to know why you two wanted the pleasure of his company so much that you would steal passes from a poor old husband and wife.”

  “Steal!” Fiona shouted. “We didn’t—” Jet kicked her.

  “Now’s not the time to argue,” he said.

  “It most certainly is not, my young friend,” the soldier agreed.

  While they waited a knot twisted in Fiona’s stomach. At first she thought it was just anxiety, but as it got progressively worse, she could feel it was something more terrible. The manjeko was still inside her, alive and swirling in its corrupted magical poisons. She felt hot and light-headed.

  “Are you okay?” Jet whispered to her.

  “I’ll be fine,” she grunted.

  “Guests!”

  A loud theatrical voice resonated throughout the hall. Fiona and Jet turned to see a man with black hair and a black goatee wearing silver-threaded silk robes and a large silver medallion around his neck. At his side was an old man with a long grey beard in the advanced stages of thinning and a twisted wooden walking stick that he used to support his stooped back.

  “Lord Raejo,” a soldier said. “I apologize for the interruption. These two stole passes to enter the palace. Fortunately the couple that was robbed recognized them instantly and pointed them out to us.”

  “Very splendid of them,” Raejo said. He fingered his medallion as he approached the throne and sat down. The old man came to his side and whispered something in his ear.

  Raejo nodded, looking grave. “Well, thieves,” he said with a wave of his arms. “You sit in judgement before your lord. What have you to say for yourselves?”

  They looked at each other. Fiona felt nothing but the growing emptiness of defeat, but Jet’s eyes held some fire still, dim though it was. “We apologize,” Jet said. “I’ve heard rumors of your greatness, Lord Raejo, and I wanted simply to see you for myself.”

  Raejo smiled despite himself. “One could hardly blame you for wanting a glimpse of your feudal lord,” Raejo said. The old man bent over and whispered into Raejo’s ear. Raejo listened intently. “A fair point, a fair point,” he said.

  “Krune tells me that whatever your intentions may have been, the crime you have commit is a serious one. How should I weigh your intentions against your sins?”

  “Public execution is always a crowd-pleaser,” the broad-shouldered guard said with a smirk.

  “We do have the western lords coming today,” Raejo mused. “It would certainly send a message of strength.”

  Fiona and Jet watched helplessly while Raejo and his soldiers discussed various ways that they might be executed.

  “It might make sense to hang onto them for a while,” a soldier said. “Seeing guts get spilt during the market might put some folk off buying. Some of these nobles have queasy stomachs.”

  “Perhaps,” Raejo said. “I must ask you both though, what do you have to say now that you’ve gotten your wish. Surely it’s some consolation that you’ve done a bit more than see me from afar by now. Has your provincial lord lived up to your expectations?”

  Fiona kept her head down, unsure of what to say. Jet hardly needed a moment to answer.

  “I can say without the slightest falsehood, Lord Raejo, that you have met my expectations beyond what I might have anticipated.”

  Raejo smiled at that. “I’m glad to hear I didn’t disappoint. I suppose there’s nothing to be gained by an immediate exec—”

  “Lord Raejo!” One of the soldiers shouted. “I recognize these scoundrels. I wasn’t sure at first, but I’m positive of it. These thugs were involved in the prison incident. They were there, my lord! They helped free the rebels.”

  “What!” Raejo roared. “How dare you!” Raejo’s face transformed from red to purple in a frighteningly short time.

  “Your guard is mistaken,” Jet said calmly. Fiona wanted to speak, but her stomach throbbed horribly with spasms of pain. She felt as if she had a second heart, hellishly sick and dying inside of her.

  “They are undoubtedly assassins, my lord,” Krune said. The old man looked like he might topple over at any moment, but his voice was strong. “I have warned you, my lord. There is treachery in every shadow. A serpent inside every child. I have predicted it, and here they are.”

  “Why?” Raejo roared. The room grew deathly still. “What have I done to deserve the scorn. The people despise me so much I cannot even travel among the province, but what have I done other than bring them prosperity?

  “I have cracked open mines of silver, mines of great wealth that were sealed away for aeons. I have opened trade with the far corners of Morrordraed. I have even spoken with the Tellosians, something thought impossible here for nearly one-thousand years. But they curse the ground I walk on.”

  “Commoners hate wealth and power, my lord,” Krune wheezed. “It is well known. They despise what they cannot be. Your love for them has been a well-intentioned folly from the start, as I have often tried to tell you.”

  “The lord is as ignorant as a blind ass,” Jet muttered.

  Raejo did not hear him. He was falling into a full-blown rage and didn’t seem to be able to control himself at that point. He walked up and down the hall, cursing each village, shouting at whichever soldiers stood nearest to him while they stared stone-faced.

  Fiona knew they had to do something, anything, to try to get out of the situation. Finding the strength to speak she said, “Lord Raejo, if that is truly how you feel then it’s never too late to earn your people’s love. Look to the examples you already have. Greythor was well-loved by the people in Barrowbog.”

  “A traitor and a rebel in hiding,” Krune said. “One who died in an attempt to overthrow our lord.”

  “That’s a lie!” she shouted. “This is ridiculous! What’s this old fool been telling you, Lord Raejo? Greythor was never a rebel.”

  “They seek to make you weak,” Krune spat. “They seek to deceive you. Put these beasts in manacles and toss them into the sea, my lord. There is no other way to deal with such as them.”

  Raejo held his silence, but that may have just been because he was breathing too hard to speak. He looked about as likely to topple over as Krune.

  “My lord,” one of the soldiers said. “Your presence is required with the guests. We need—”

  A loud boom interrupted him.

  “What was that?” Raejo, asked, turning about.

  The room grew very still. Fiona had a sense of growing dread building in her stomach, though she could not have said if it was from the manjeko or not. The soldiers tensed up. Some of them stepped closer to Raejo. Then they heard it.

  Sounds of fighting. Sounds of death. An explosion of glass as a man’s body smashed through the stained glass window sending bloody rainbow light shimmering through the air.

  * * *

  Raejo and his men were not going to wait around to see what happened. Any thought of Fiona and Jet had left their heads the moment the window was smashed. It di
dn’t do them much good. As soon as they reached the doorway a group of fighters came in, and the provincial lord and his escorts retreated back the way they came.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Fiona asked. “Are your friends attacking?”

  “If it’s them, then I have no knowledge about it,” Jet responded.

  But it wasn’t them.

  Fiona felt like she could hardly breath. The manjeko throbbed painfully in her stomach and her vision blurred. A host of Vaentysh Boys led by Rodrick had entered the room. Before she realized what was happening Jet pulled her up, and they crouched behind the throne. Still manacled, there was nothing they could do but watch.

  “Krune, Raejo!” Rodrick yelled cheerfully, not having seen Fiona before they ducked away. “I’m so glad we got the chance to see you.”

  It had barely been two weeks since she had seen Rodrick in Haygarden, but he had changed his appearance since then. The bushy beard he had sported then was gone, and his hair was once more clean and braided. He also had the horizontal scar over his brow that she had given him.

  Rodrick’s men disarmed the soldiers easily and circled around them. “I thought this would be the perfect time to come and see if we couldn’t hammer out some of those dents in our deal?” There was a wild light in her brother’s forest green eyes. He smiled but below the surface he was raging.

  “Silver for swords, that was the bargain as I recall it,” Rodrick went on. “We delivered the swords. We chased away those commoners like a dog chases away rats. I don’t know why you needed to recruit help to handle such a menial task, but that was not my concern. So imagine my surprise when I found that when it came time to collect our pay, the mighty Lord Raejo had my men thrown in prison.”

  “You lied,” Krune rasped. “You deceived us first. You told us that you were official ambassadors from Haygarden, but you were only outlaws, you—”

  Rodrick struck the old man hard in the face and he went stumbling across the room. “Don’t call me outlaw, old man,” Rodrick said. “You are in no position to speak of laws. We were promised magic silver. Silver to melt into ink and make rune-bombs. Silver to engrave sacred runes into our blades. Silver that would take us home!”