Honor Crowned (12 page)

The bright colored flags were now dull gray shapes propped up on silver-trimmed branches.  As Jorem made his way across the clearing, he noticed that in the light of the night the Keep had an ethereal appearance.  The curves of the walls and roof of the main building blended together.

Dark shadows and gleaming surfaces combined to create the illusion of an immense palace, one like those of the fabled desert people.  Jorem knew it was a trick of the light, but it was impressive none the less.  With the starlit sky for a backdrop and the blackened maw of the chasm on all sides, the Keep appeared to float on a sea of nothingness.  Whether intentional or not, the builder of this place had created an incredible piece of art.

The first thing Jorem did on entering the Keep was to find soap, water, and a place to wash up.  After removing his numerous hidden blades, he stripped down to his underclothes.  With scrub brush and soap, he cleaned his clothes inside and out.  Next were his underclothes and finally himself.  Once he was as clean as he could manage, he rubbed himself dry with a coarse towel.

Wrapping the towel around him, Jorem gathered up his clothes and blades and went in search of an empty room.  After a short search, he ended up in the library.  A few embers glowed faintly in the fireplace.  He stirred up the coals and added a few logs.  After a little coaxing, flames started licking away at the newly added fuel.  After draping his clothes over a chair to dry, Jorem curled up in a well-padded chair and fell fast asleep.

Chapter XVIII

When Jorem awoke, he had no idea what time it was.  He wasn’t sure if he had slept for less than a mark or for half a day.  In truth, it didn’t matter.  He was awake and he felt refreshed.  His clothes, still damp, gave him a chill as he slipped them on.  Once each of his blades was back in its hidden sheath, he went in search of the kitchen.

Upon finding the kitchen, Jorem wondered if maybe he’d be better off going hungry.  The old woman in charge was furious.  She stormed from one end of the room to the other, cursing all the way.  Her helpers looked just as upset, but refrained from the pacing.  When Jorem came through the doorway, all of their frustrations came out at him.  Over all of their babble, the cook’s voice could be heard.

“That crazy old man,” she bellowed.  “Half of me bowls and plates he done took, an’ not so much as a by-your-leave.”

Jorem raised his hands in front of himself and took a step back.  “Which crazy old man are you talking about?”

“He says he’s some sort of wizard!” the cook stormed.  “Well, I tell you, I don’t care if he’s the First Wizard to the King.  Comes in here takin’ things like they was his own.  Why, he even took me best silver spoons!”

“Are there not enough dishes to serve firstmeal?” Jorem asked cautiously.

“Well,” the cook glared at Jorem, “yes there are, only because there are so many gone.  But that’s not the point!”

“Please be patient,” Jorem said, trying to calm the women. “Pentrothe is acting on my orders.  If he took those things, it is because they are needed.  I’ll go see what he is doing and try to get your plates and bowls back to you as quickly as possible.”

Jorem turned to go in search of the wizard when the cook’s voice stopped him.

“Wait!” the cook said sternly.  Jorem turned back, ready for another tirade.  “You’d be Prince Jorem then?”

“I am Jorem, yes.  My status as prince is up for debate.”

“Well, you just come back in here and get you somethin’ to eat.  I hear you’ve not been takin’ time to eat.  Well, come on.  I’ll not have you falterin’ for not havin’ the sense to eat when you should.”

In no time at all, Jorem had a large bowl of steaming porridge in one hand and plate of fresh baked bread with butter and honey melted into it in the other.  He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the aroma of the meal started his mouth to watering and his stomach to growling.  As he started to leave again with his food in hand, he stopped and turned back to the cook.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.  “About Pentrothe, he actually
was
the King’s wizard.  He gave up that post and chose exile to come here to help me.  His social skills may be lacking at times, but he’s a good man and a good friend.”

Although no one said anything as he left, he could see that they were thinking about his words.  Finding Pentrothe was easy.  He was in the dining hall.  Finding a place to sit and eat, that was far more difficult.

Every horizontal surface was covered with plates and bowls.  Each dish was filled with a bluish-gray powder.  Pentrothe was at a table on the far side of the room, stirring something in a pot with one of the cook’s silver spoons.  The wizard didn’t even look up when Jorem came in.  He just continued stirring and muttering strange arcane words over the pot.

Jorem eventually gave up on sitting at a table.  There was no room and he didn’t dare disturb the dishes filled with their precious powder.  Finding a quiet corner, he sat on the floor and did his best to enjoy his meal.  The acrid smell of the powder did nothing to increase his appetite.  Even so, he ended up licking honey off his fingers when he finished.

With his meal finished, Jorem tucked the dishes into the corner to keep them out of the way.  Pentrothe didn’t even look up when Jorem approached.  The old wizard looked haggard.  He must have been up all night mixing up this concoction.  As tired as the old man was, his hands were still as steady as a rock.

After a few more minutes, Pentrothe stopped his mixing and, with utmost care, poured the powder from the pot onto a plate.  Only then did he look away from his work. Dark circles under his eye attested to his weariness.  A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

“That is the last of it,” he said, brushing remnants of the powder from his robe.  “I don’t mind telling you, I may never make another batch of this retched stuff.”

“Then I would suggest you keep some for yourself, for I intend to use it all,” Jorem said with a chuckle.

“That should make quite an impression,” Pentrothe said with an arched eyebrow.

“Magic takes a calm mind, free of distraction, or so you taught me.”

“Indeed it does, even the simplest of spells.”

“If it works as I hope, their mages will be dazed, confused and possibly singed for quite a while.  Long enough, I hope, for us to dissuade them and their troops from continuing their journey.”

“Any accomplished mage won’t be impressed with a little flash,” Pentrothe murmured.

“That’s why I’m planning to use a lot.”

************

Jorem gathered his men outside the Keep to instruct them on transporting the powder.

“This stuff is fairly dangerous.  If you spill it or drop it, I cannot guarantee your safety.”

The looks on their faces ranged from indifference to disbelief.  To prove his point, Jorem held up a bowl of the powder.  Very gently, he took a small pinch of powder between his thumb and forefinger.  With a smooth, even motion, he threw the pinch of powder on the ground.  A white flash and whooshing sound brought exclamations of surprise from all.  A pillar of smoke billowed up from the spot and drifted up into the air.  When he held the bowl back up, everyone took a step back.  Apparently his point had been made.

“Carry no more than two at a time,” Jorem said to a now very attentive crowd.  “If you prefer, carry just one.  Safer is better.”

Jorem and the others headed for the stone building on the far side of the clearing.  They took their time traversing the planks crossing the trenches.  All of the planks held firm with little or no rocking. He felt confident that his men would be able to get the powder from the dining hall across the clearing without accident.  None of the residents of Cragg Keep would be involved in this project.  It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

Inside the building Jorem knelt on a beam and steadied himself with one hand on an adjacent beam. He reached down into the gap between the two beams, getting as close to the ground as possible, and gently poured the powder from the bowl he’d brought.  He started on the stove side of the room.  As more powder arrived, he repeated the pouring process until the ground under the area where the first floor plank would go was covered.

Grabbing a plank off the top of the pile, he carried it over and set it in place.  Unfortunately, it wouldn’t seat.  Closer inspection revealed that the holes in the plank didn’t match up with the pegs in the beam.  Jorem hadn’t thought to keep the planks in order as he removed them.  In fact, thinking back, he realized that some of the planks would need to be swapped end for end to get the holes lined up.  He could tell top from bottom, but this was going to take a while.

Take a while it did.  Matching the planks up with their original location made it so he was barely able to keep up with the incoming powder.  Once he got a plank in the right place, all he had to do was walk on it and it would settle into place.  The only plank that was easy to identify was the one he’d cut the hole in.  The rest he had to puzzle out.

Pour the powder, find the right plank, place the plank—all the way across the room.  There were only two planks left when they ran out of powder.  He felt like he wasn’t finishing his task, but he also knew there was nothing he could do about it.  Setting the last planks in place took but a moment.

Stepping outside for a short break, Jorem found all of his men, save Con and Braden, waiting for him.  They had been talking amongst themselves and when he stepped out, they turned to him expectantly.  These were good men and he admired each of them.  It was easy to see how so many considered the guard their family.  The sun’s position told him it was nearly midday.

“Well, my friends,” Jorem said, “the time is nearly here.  If Hector’s right, we have maybe four marks before company arrives.  Con and Braden should be coming in soon.  If there is anything any of you can think of that will help, now’s the time to bring it up.”

By the way they glanced at one another, Jorem could tell that they had something to say.

“Well…,” the shortest member of the group drawled out, “now that you mention it, we’ve been talking with Hector about the soldiers that’re coming.”

The man, Bertram was his name, paused to glance at the others.  At their nods, he continued.  “Hector told us the soldiers are well-armed and carrying shields.  Arrows won’t go through a good shield and we haven’t got that many arrows to begin with.

“Now if we were to have a few men to either side of the clearing, we could shoot at them from the sides where they haven’t any shields and armor tends to be thinner.”

Jorem contemplated the idea for a bit before answering.  “It’s a good idea,” he said, “but as soon as they figure out where our men are, they would converge on them.  Our men wouldn’t stand a chance and there’s no way we could rescue them.”

Bertram grinned.  “We thought of that too.  If we put someone on the far ends of the wall, as soon as the shooters were spotted, a rope could be thrown down.  They could climb up before the soldiers knew what was happening.”

Jorem had to admit it was a good idea.  As long as the shooters could get back inside the walls before the enemy reached the gates it would work.  The comment about their limited supply of arrows gave him something else to worry about.

“All right, let’s do it.”  Before the men could congratulate themselves on their cleverness, Jorem held up a hand.  “But I want everyone inside the walls before their first man reaches the gate.  Understand?  Make sure whoever’s outside the walls practices climbing the rope.  We need all of you.  Our odds are slim as it is. Let’s keep each other alive.”

Before the men left, Jorem had them gather up all the dishes except one and return them to the Keep.  He had Hector stay with him long enough to move the stove back into place.  Before he did anything else, he placed the plate over the hole under the stove.  No point in setting up his trap with himself inside.

A little bit of searching around the building yielded a nice round stone about the size of his fist.  Using the string he had previously waxed to the bottom of the stove, Jorem suspended the rock over the hole in the floor.  It took a few attempts before he got the rock to stay where he wanted it, making him very glad he’d put the plate over the hole.

Once the rock was in place, Jorem replaced the kindling and wood into the stove, ready to be lit.  Once the army arrived, this building would be the safest and most comfortable place outside the Keep.  One thing Jorem knew about mages and wizards, they liked their comforts.  If one of them didn’t light the fire, one of their underlings would.  The biggest risk would be if someone lit the fire before the mages arrived.

Standing in the doorway, Jorem looked at the room to see if anything would warn of a trap.  He quickly realized his mistake.  The room was too clean.  An abandoned out building should not have the appearance of a room at an inn.  That alone would cause someone to be wary.  He had to presume these men were reasonably intelligent.  They would be watching for a trap, especially when they discovered that their monsters had disappeared.

Stepping outside, Jorem scooped up a handful of dirt and debris.  He tossed the dirt into the building, then went in and scuffed it about with his feet.  It took repeating the process a few times before he was satisfied that the room looked suitable.

Before leaving, Jorem retrieved the plate covering the hole under the stove, setting the trap.  The plate he smashed against the edge of the table, scattering chards across the floor.  These too he scuffed into the dirt on the floor, giving the newly broken plate the appearance of having been there for some time.

Standing outside the building, Jorem decided on one final touch to set the stage for his trap.  Grasping the door and bracing a foot against the wall, Jorem heaved.  The door creaked and he pulled harder.  He had just about decided the task was beyond him when the top hinge groaned and tore from its seat.  The door sagged on its remaining hinge.  Hopefully, when this was all over, there would be someone to repair the damage. 

************

Back at the Keep, the atmosphere was somber.  There were a few people on the wall gazing into the distance.  A couple of people scurried about the courtyard intent on some errand.  Most everyone else remained inside.  Everything appeared to be as ready as it could be.  All that remained was to wait.

Jorem stepped into the Keep and found a cluster of children sitting in a circle on the floor.  As he entered, the children looked up at him.  His stomach clenched at the look of worry on those young faces.  This was a situation no child should have to face, yet here they were.

Finding an open space in the circle, Jorem knelt down with the youngsters.  Looking from face to face, it was easy to see the fear in their eyes.  What could he say to them?  He could tell them everything would be fine, but they’d know it for a lie.  These children had already figured out that life was not fair.