Peril & Profit

by M. H. Johnson

  He turned to face Sorn at the last, after they had walked back down the corridor, passing the smithy and catching the eye of any number of startled looking smiths and apprentices, well versed as they no doubt were with the history of the armaments Sorn wielded. Sorn could feel their wide-eyed stares on his back as a tingle running down his spine, but he paid it no heed.

  "Well then, lad, you're as suited as any knight I have ever seen to face whatever battle lies ahead. Now, do you need me to send for a runner? Or can you manage on your own?"

  Sorn favored Vorbin with a friendly smile. "No worries. I can find the Royal Guards quarters on my own, I'm sure. And thank you for your assistance, Vorbin, it is appreciated."

  Vorbin looked pleased with the praise. His rough, scarred features broke into a warm grin. "Think nothing of it, young knight. Just do the former wielders of those armaments proud in the siege ahead."

  With a friendly clap on Sorn's steel covered shoulder, the weaponsmith went back to his work. And Sorn, his visor raised but helmet still on despite being inside the castle, made his way back to the royal section of the palace. His footsteps were surprisingly soft for someone in full plate, thanks to the large leather boots he had insisted on wearing over his plate covered feet. The leather boots, he felt, were a necessity. For the knight's steel boots, made for horseback, were ill-equipped for stealth or shock absorption, and they had terrible traction besides. Whether or not the stares of various passing pages or lords were due to the intensity of Sorn's expression, knowledge of the armaments he wore and the strength required to make use of them, or simply for the odd contrast of heavy leather riding boots worn in conjunction with fine steel plate, Sorn neither knew nor cared.

  Sorn couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that he had overlooked something vital. Despite all his efforts to ascertain the threat, for all that he and the king's troops hoped to steal the initiative from the enemy's now expected attack, he still feared that he was missing something. Sorn almost felt like he was playing a game of chess with his grandfather, and despite carefully checking over his position before launching a cautious attack of his own, the only reaction he got in return from his grandfather was an enigmatic smile. A smile that inevitably spelled his doom as he found his pieces compromised by a carefully constructed gambit, his king ambushed from some completely unexpected angle.

  Sorn worried that even now, despite all their efforts to get the drop on the Empire's carefully concealed men, that the crossbow sights of the enemy were being slowly lined up against their backs, all unawares. The trouble was that he had absolutely no idea what he could be overlooking.

  A curt rap from his gauntleted hand soon opened the slot on the steel reinforced door that for the moment sealed the Royal Guards’ rooms from the rest of the palace. The man peering at Sorn gave him a frown for some seconds before curtly asking the nature of his business.

  "This is Sorn," he said, well aware that the guard may have no idea what he looked like, and probably wouldn't recognize him under all his armor in any case. "Here to see the king, at His Majesty's request."

  The man's eyes widened at that, and after briefly telling Sorn to hold but a moment, disappeared from sight. His footsteps made it clear that he was going for someone higher up on the chain of command. Soon enough, Vrelin's own handsome mustachioed countenance could be seen from the doorway slit, his eyes crinkling in what was obviously a grin.

  "Well aren't you a fine sight indeed, young Sorn! With enough steel on you to outfit half a squad, dare I say."

  Sorn heard the sound of bolts being drawn back, and a smiling Captain of the Royal Guard bade him enter. "No page with you, I see. I suppose you reasoned you could find the king's whereabouts all the quicker just coming here. Well and good, for His Majesty is right here to be found. As are the princess, the healers, and enough hastily brought supplies to last us all a week at the least. It seems, understandably, that our king feels less than secure, knowing that invisible assassins could be lying about." Vrelin's face turned grim at the last, and Sorn gave a sympathetic nod.

  "I can understand that completely. Forgive the query then, but wouldn't the king feel safer with the mages?"

  The captain looked almost offended, then his expression smoothed itself into a thoughtful frown.

  "A valid point, young Sorn. The truth is, however, that the king needs to be here in order to orchestrate both our short-term counter-offensive and our long-term defensive strategy. The ways into this area of the palace are well fortified and secure, and all the king's military marshals are familiar with the arrangements here at the castle, despite our added precautions. At present, things wouldn't work nearly as efficiently should we set up headquarters in the mages' tower, though that might indeed be a feasible idea at a future time. This night, however, we have to be prepared for immediate action, and so there is no time to set such machinations in place as would be needed to change the location of our center of command entirely. Does that make sense?"

  Sorn nodded offhandedly, well able to appreciate the captain's points.

  "For the moment, Sorn, it is the mages who have temporarily moved to our barracks." The captain looked bemused by the turn of events.

  "Truly? All the mages are here?"

  "Not hardly!" Vrelin chuckled at the thought. "Let us say instead that several are here to coordinate the mage's actions in their help to defend the city. Of course, their primary function here is to serve as bodyguards to His Majesty and the princess, more for peace of mind than anything else, I should hope."

  "Is Sorlin staying here to guard the king then?"

  "I'm afraid not, Sorn, though that is one mage I wouldn't mind sharing a tankard with. He is serving to coordinate efforts back at the mages tower and may well be called in to engage the enemy as is needed."

  "Ah," Sorn said, at that moment following the captain into a busy looking central chamber. The king was presently peering over what looked to be several maps laid out on a large circular table alongside several officious looking men in elegant looking uniforms that Sorn took to indicate men of some rank. A number of Royal Guardsmen were evenly spaced alongside the walls, scanning the entire council chamber continuously, while others were beside the tables, conversing intently with the men Sorn took to be marshals. So too, there was a tall pale fellow dressed in dark blue robes of a similar cut to Sorlin's. He wore no hat, and his thick main of black curly hair was well oiled, his eyes a light brown. He turned his well-groomed countenance to gaze upon Sorn and the captain. He acknowledged the latter with a slight nod, though his eyes stared fixedly at Sorn.

  "He is a full mage," Vrelin whispered wryly. "A bit arrogant, I should think, and, from what I understand, a bit of a ladykiller as well."

  "Lady killer?" Sorn clenched his fists.

  "Ah, a figure of speech. Let us just say that he is… popular with the lasses. Frankly, I don't see what's so appealing about him, myself."

  Sorn couldn't help but smile at the captain's muttering. Vrelin, with his gentlemanly mustachioed countenance, was like a fair-haired counterpoint to the mage's saturnine goateed one. Both men radiated a sort of masculine elegance that reminded Sorn of nothing so much as two peacocks eyeing each other grimly before strutting before the ladies.

  "I am sorry, good Captain," the mage said, all elegant politeness, despite the measuring looks he and the captain exchanged. "But I am afraid I don't recognize your… companion."

  The captain favored the mage with a small smile. "Forgive my lapse, Eloquinon, but His Majesty has bade me to inform him the moment our young hero made his presence known."

  The captain turned toward the king, clearing his throat as he did so. "Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion, but may I present Sorn? Here at your disposal, as per your request."

  The king's distracted air turned to one of beaming pleasure at Sorn's countenance.

  "Why there you are, lad! By Justice, it looks like you've settled for nothing less than the armory entire!" The king shook his head in bemusement. "I k
now not how you are able to wield such steel, nor do I particularly care, so long as you are in no danger of collapsing under all that weight. You're sure it's not a bit much, lad?"

  "Fear not on my account, Your Majesty," a smiling Sorn replied. "Rather, let me say that it is good to see you with maps and men well at hand."

  The king smiled at this. "It seems we were right to take your concerns seriously. We sent several scouts near the warehouses you had mentioned, and by dint of exceedingly careful observation, did indeed note the open top floor windows, despite the damp night. What's more, two of our men thought they saw candlelight and the glint of steel."

  The king's expression turned grim as he pointed to what Sorn took to be the conjoined warehouse on the map. "Indeed, it seems that there may well be something to your record of Vorstice's confession, and we thought it behooved us to make ready, on the assumption a full-scale attack would soon be launched from that quarter."

  The marshals gazed at Sorn with measuring glances, slightly taken aback by the king's warm smile and avuncular cheer as he gestured this heretofore unknown figure to make his way to the table. Their slight disconcertion was not so surprising, Sorn thought, considering that he probably looked more like a walking armory than anything else.

  "Forgive my query, Your Majesty," Sorn asked as he approached the king, who warmly clamped a hand on his shoulder before directing Sorn's attention to the map. "But if I may ask, how fares Elissa?"

  The king's expression was at once both concerned and touched as he paused to look reflectively upon Sorn.

  "She is doing far better, thank the gods. The healers are even now with her in a chamber not far from here, guarded by my men inside and out." The king smiled grimly at that. The look the king then favored Sorn with was a penetrating one, his voice soft. "She asked about you, Sorn. She seemed anxious that you had disappeared again until I told her that you had simply been escorted to the armory, and would no doubt make your way back here soon enough."

  The king winked. "She seems most certain that you are a powerful wizard, that you turned yourself from a crow to a man to save her, picking her up and leaping straight over the eight-foot tall hedges as if they were nothing to escape the maze. The healers feel the poor girl was becoming delusional as her body exhausted itself struggling for breath…"

  The king shuddered at the painful memory. He shook his head as if to dispel the painful thought, his gaze once again focusing on Sorn with a discomfiting mix of intensity and gratitude.

  "Let me say again, Sorn, that in saving my daughter you have left me with a debt I know not how to repay, and that you will always be considered a friend to these halls. I know not how you managed the feat, Sorn, nor do I feel the need to. I am thankful only that you were able to save my daughter."

  Sorn's return smile was a genuine one, relief temporarily numbing his dark anger. "Your friendship is all the thanks I could desire, Your Majesty, and it is no small relief to hear that Elissa is faring better. I don't suppose, I don't suppose that I could see her?"

  The king favored Sorn with a fatherly smile, hand on Sorn's steel encased shoulder, and was about to speak when the halls filled with the sudden sound of bells being rung at a fierce peel, and all faces present filled at once with alarm.

  26

  "Your Majesty…?" Sorn asked of a suddenly pale-looking king.

  "We are under attack, Sorn. The bell means we are under attack…" His eyes widened as weeks of anxious dread suddenly transformed into the most awful of nightmares. Sorn was struck by the intensity of the king's horror and understood perfectly. For at this very moment, legions of enemy troops were striking at the very heart of his home.

  At that moment a young man ran to join the marshals by the table.

  "Speak man, where is the attack coming from?" One red-faced marshal demanded of the desperately gasping youngster hardly older than Sorn appeared to be, obviously out of breath. The youth gave a hurried salute.

  "I'm sorry, sir, but none of our men have come back from their observation of the city. It was three strangers who we think are sorcerers. They just appeared in the castle and screamed something about attacking. They have put up no resistance so far but we have them surrounded and are disarming them as we speak. They yelled something about a relative of theirs being here. We fear the worst, sir. An assassin might be amongst our midst. They… they were invisible, sir."

  Several men gasped, pale-faced at these implications.

  Even the king looked horrified at this bit of news.

  "Your Majesty, to your quarters!" Eloquin said. "I shall attempt to guard the war room until the danger has passed."

  "Your Majesty!” Sorn cried. “There has been some mistake, I fear. Those are not enemy wizards, they are my cousins!"

  Gasps could be heard throughout the room and all eyes turned to face Sorn. Some stared with alarm, and not all were friendly.

  "Your Majesty, please back away from that…man," Eloquinon said slowly, clenching and unclenching his hands and taking a curious stance as if preparing to duel with Sorn. "You, Sirrah, to the floor face first, now. Any sudden moves and I shall blast you to the very ethers from which you came." His arrogant voice was chill, and Sorn could tell by his manner that the man meant every word he said.

  "Your Majesty," an exasperated Sorn began, doing his utmost to keep his frustration from triggering the maelstrom of emotions attempting to overcome him at news that his hated enemy was now invading fair Caverenoc.

  "I set my cousins to watch the warehouses. They were invisible so that any messengers sent from Lord Vorstice could be dealt with, without alarming the enemy soldiers quartered in the warehouses. Rest assured, I also told them to beware of your men, so as to not attack our own men by mistake. Their job was to buy us time before the Empire became aware of our knowledge of them while I flew up here and warned you all of the danger, not to mention find out why our ship and cargo were being impounded! I can only assume that Vorstice, invisible himself, was able to sneak past them and whatever other guards you may have posted and warned the enemy himself."

  Sorn paused a moment to take a breath, peripherally noticing that at least to some extent, the men were easing from their state of hyper alarm.

  "Please, your Majesty, have faith in me on this. My cousins are good lads, if a bit enthusiastic, and utterly lacking in propriety. They are, in fact, royal princes in our own lands. Their only goal here is to warn you in time to mount a proper defense. They had no way of knowing the alarm that invisibility would be causing us now! Please, Your Grace, allow me and whomever you deem fit to accompany me to speak to them, to get the information they worked so hard to bring. They could be giving us warning that will serve us in good stead, should we act, and quickly."

  The king nodded, his tension easing away with an explosive sigh. "Of course, Sorn." He cracked a weak smile. "I should have assumed as much." To the messenger he curtly asked, "They didn't attack anyone, did they?"

  The youth looked up in alarm. "No, Your Majesty. Though they looked none too pleased to be surrounded by a dozen crossbowmen. Nor would I, I should think," the young man said with a weak smile.

  "Well then, go with the captain of my guards and Sorn here, and let's get this straightened out. Captain? Assure the men that, unless Sorn says otherwise, these three are our friends."

  The king turned to Sorn. "Fair enough, lad? Find out what you can, then report back to me."

  "Of course, Your Majesty," Sorn said, bowing once before following the messenger and Vrelin out the door.

  "Sorn!" Fitz declared with some exasperated relief upon catching sight of his cousin, as Vrelin curtly instructed the guardsmen to stand down. Hanz and Lieberman were still staring at the slowly relaxing guardsmen, their expressions cold.

  "Relax, cousins," Sorn soothed. "We are among friends here."

  "Well our 'friends' never threatened to plunk us with crossbow bolts before!" Lieberman harrumphed, finally allowing himself to relax, easing his predatory gaze into one
far more in countenance with his innocent face, for all that it was a petulant frown.

  "Lieberman, peace! An assassination attempt occurred less than an hour ago by one we suspect was invisible at the time."

  All three youths’ eyebrows shot up.

  "We didn't know, cousin!" exclaimed Fitz with some concern.

  "Yes, sorry about startling you all then," Hanz said to the grim looking guardsmen.

  "So these are your cousins I take it?" Vrelin asked. "Yes, I can see by their features that they must be. And that they are princes as well I have little doubt. For the life of me, I have never seen such fine looking mail or blades anywhere. Indeed they do appear befitting of a prince." At that, with a nod, the youths were handed back their elegantly crafted mithril blades, more than one guardsman sighing as they were sheathed once more.

  "Sorn!" a perturbed Lieberman exclaimed. "I thought we were supposed to keep who we are a secret!"

  "Yeah, Sorn!" a frustrated looking Hanz added. "All that work looking like them, and now they're going to be afraid we'll eat them. Isn't that what you said?"

  "Relax, cousins," a now embarrassed looking Sorn soothed. "All I did was give credit to your distinguished heritage as princes of our land. I did not bore them with our… quaint religious customs."

  It seemed that with the alarm and the distraction of the youths' otherworldly beauty, not to mention the striking semblance each had to one another, that few were paying much attention to Hanz's odder comment, though one or two guards did flash Sorn a concerned glance.

  Captain Vrelin gave the youths a disarming smile. "Well then, lads, princes you may be, for by your countenance alone I have little doubt of that. Now show yourselves to be scouts worthy of the name. What did you see?"