The Exodus Sagas: Book II - Of Dragons And Crowns (32 page)

“Your mother and your brothers woul
d be so proud of you, my son.” h
e had heard the words, yet his pride as a father took over from any desire to continue the argument.

“Here we are again. Father, could we please stay on the subject of the two members of my cousin’s spider guild we have in our protection. The two that will not talk of what had happened to them, or of Jo
hnas Valhera?” Bryant fumed again, his father the king always changing the subject and getting sentimental at the worst of times.

“Balric D’Vrelle and his woman
? Still haven’t spoken a word, eh? It is late, let them, and me, sleep another night and we shall talk to them in the morning. Do not get your hopes up son, it may be possible that they were innocent bystanders as they stated.” Mikhail waved a cautious hand to his son, knowing they had been here nearly a month and their sto
ry had not
changed one bit. Balric’s
wounds had healed quickly, but young Miss Blackflame’s had not fared as well. The king’s priests had seen to her personally, yet it would be many years before the scarring would return to the normal color and texture of her once beautiful tan skin
, if ever
. Mikhail admired Balric for his devotion, his silence, and his love a
nd caring for the woman
despite the terrible burns she carried.

“I do not believ
e
they are husband and wife
,
father. It seemed fine weeks ago, but this last few days, they barely talk to one another. They do not touch or even whisper
in my presence
. They keep their heads down like two defeated strangers waiting for something bad to happen all over again.
I tried to converse with them, and they just agree and babble to me. It seems they have given up the act, and maybe now is the time to interrogate them.” Bryant planned on doing it anyway this even
ing, with or without
the king’s permission.

“Leave them be, son. They will talk when they are ready. They are safe here in Loucas, in fortress Salganat, with us. We should be focusing on sending more men to Lord Alexei in Southwind Keep, he sent word that the ogre are in larger number this late winter and that they seem fearless as ever.”

“And the trolls from the Hollowmoors plague Hurne and Roricdale this time of year as well. We have to watch how thin we spread our reserves, father. I received word from Harlaheim yesterday morning, from Kalzarius.” Bryant pulled the scroll that had been delivered by a horseman messenger, intended for the king.

“What news from our newest knight and his quest
?” Mikhail brightened with something new to discuss.

“None really. A scribe merely sent word from Kalzarius of Harlaheim, that Sir James Andellis and his crew of the Bronze Harpy arrived in port after an ordeal at sea. They were received well and are welcome guests at his home. He went on to say something about his thanks for help with the scroll, what a fine example of chivalry James is
,
and that he honors our country, and that they will be taking the scroll to Soujan Mountain for safe keeping in a few weeks time. Fairly unexciting father.” Prince Bryant placed it on the arm of his father’s throne.

“Very good, very good. I think I shall retire after a ride around the walls. Care to join son?” King Mikhail stood and stretched, then began to walk down the steps to embrace his son good night.

“No father, I would like to talk, just talk, with our guests for awhile. Enj
oy your ride, and good night.” h
e hugged his father back, seeing that
parental eye of scrutiny, sensing for a motive that he tried to keep clouded.

“Just talk?”

“Yes sire, just talk. You have my word.”

“
V
ery well then,
I will hold you to it. J
ust do not get your hopes up, or let your suspicions get the best of you.
This spider theory you have seems to be a bit imaginative. Just let things happen as they unfold, do not force it son.
”
t
he king smiled, and walked out of his hall, the guards opening door after door for him as he headed to the stables.

The air was moist
ening
with winter’s end, the sun leaving just a hint of pale purple in the dark sky to the east. King Mikhail had not left the castle fortress much in weeks, having been on horse and ship for the better part of six months prior. The smell of his steed, the hay, t
he fresh night air under a cold
and starry sky would do him well. His mind wandered back to the days when his sons were young and alive, and Bryant was a baby. He and the queen would ride at night often, and the memory of that brought the old king some peace; he thought often that she was with Alden in heaven watching him raise their son, and the boys were by her side. His smile could not have widened more as he opened the stable doors, then vanished as a foul strange odor permeated his nostrils. Mikhail felt for the lantern and flintstick. He pressed the device back and forth three times, producing a spark that lit the oil lantern wick. He held it up and looked past his horses, searching for the smell that was not manure or hay. Mikhail walked to the rear of the stables, past
thirty stallions and mares who all seemed anxious to see him. It was coming from the grain barrels, a stench of rot and decay. He drew his broadsword and opened a lid, and stepped back as the reek choked his eyes and throat. The king gasped, seeing Medrol stuffed into the barrel most contorted and dead for several days and bloated. Medrol had been one of his finest castle servants for over a decade now, and Mikhail removed the lids of the remaining six grain barrels, one by one. His hand covered his mouth, as three more servants were found, rotting and dead but from what he could not tell.

He turned and ran, as fast as he could, he ran back to the castle. “Guards, guards!! To the guest rooms on the third floor, now! The prince is in danger! Guards!” King Mikhail yelled as loud as he could while running, his eyes tearing at the though of losing his only son. His heart raced with fear, not for the dead in the barrels, but for the fact they had been dead for several days. Mikhail ran harder now up the steps into his castle, since he had seen those same servants only a few hours ago on the third
floor. He remembered one of them bumping in to him on the way to the kitchen, but remaining silent, and another kept her head down as she walked the halls.
Now his son was alone up there, with w
hatever was impersonating them.
“Guards!”

LCMVXI
ILCMVXIILCMVXIILCMVX

Balric D’Vrelle looked back at Vanessa; her mouth gagged with a black cloth, her long black hair over her shoulders and part of her face, and he wished he could touch her. The brown in her eyes was dull and full of hopelessness, much as it had been since he had rescued her from Johnas and since her tragi
c injuries from the magicks of G
wenneth Lazlette. Tears ran down her small nose and over her top lip into the cloth. Had he not also been gagged, the swordsman spy would have comforted her with soft words of assurance as best he could.
He felt his gag itching as it was too tight across his goatee and neck, pulling his long hair every time his head moved. His head ached from the opium they had drugged them with in their sleep two nights ago, and the doppelgangers had not even given them blankets for the cold ride in the merchant wagon they were hauled in. Balric knew they were in Valhirst, he could smell the sea and the aroma of the city when they were taken out of the covered wagon an hour ago and marched in manacles through the secret tunnels of The White Spider.

The shapeshifters all resembled commoners, all except one. The one named Ariili appeared as a city guard, much like Balric when he had his brief duty of captain of the Valhirst city militia. He knew it had been a set up then, but he had thought them safely away in the capital of Loucas with the king would have ended it.
His letters to Javiel had not been answered and he felt a fool for waiting.
Again he was shoved ahead and his face grabbed and turned to look forward instead of at his beloved woman. He had no dagger, no shortblade, no armor, and even his saber had been lifted along with Vanessa’s belongings by these six devious doppelgangers.

Two men stood in the shadowy illumination that shone at the end of the tunnel. Balric recalled that this was Heathen’s post, the red minotaur with o
n
e horn that set him free from imprisonment.
He saw no minotaur, instead there was a young boy, perhaps fifteen who was missing a hand. He held the spider wand in his remaining hand, and was under supervision from one of the older agents that was merely called Silver. He was said to be one of the first assassins ever trained by Johnas Valhera, but he had lost his leg from the knee down in a brutal fight
with barbaric traders from the D
eep South. Now he handled much of the coin counting and documents for the patriarch of killers and thieves. Balric
smiled inwardly, seeing two lame agents instead of a robust minotaur watching the security measures of the domicile.
Times must be tough
, he thought. He then realized that with no Heathen here, that the other minotaur must have killed him. That thought did not sit well for the Harlian spy, since that was his only ally here in Chazzrynn, save the lovely woman he was a prisoner alongside.

“Welcome back Vanessa Blackflame and Balric D’Vrelle, we hope your honeymoon was joyous. God knows
this
won’t be.” Silver laughed as they passed into the underchamber, his remaining teeth and str
aggly gray hair reeked of dirty
old man and musty leather. “Now once they have passed the wand, we have to announce them, especially if there are doppelgangers with, understood?”

The boy nodded, placing the wand on the alcove ledge and then drawing his saber which was still too long a weapon for the boy for another few years. Oggidan walked ahead of the caravan of wicked fey creatures and their prisoners. “Ariili and five doppelgangers with Balric and Vanessa, Prince Johnas!”

“Good work, nicely done Oggidan. How is your brand? Still smarts a little, eh?” Silver shut the door behind them. “And remember, never open the right door unless the person entering is marked
to die by the prince because…” t
he door shut.

The underchamber with the onyx throne and white inlays of marble on the floor depicting a spider
looked the same as when he had left it over a month ago. Torches, scattered magical lanterns of green, orange, and red, and the smell of wine, liquor, opium and precious coins and jewels
; it hit him like waking from a bad dream
.
Vanessa started to panic, struggling and moaning with her shapeshifting captors as they reverted to their true and natural forms. Pale white and blue, hairless with pointy ears, long bony claws and sharp fangs, but it was the solid black eyes that sent
shivers up the spine of most
.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cats have brought me. My two favorite lovers. My young pupil, and the double agent. Or should I say triple agent? He worked for the church to infiltrate me in Harlaheim, then spied on us here
as a branded member
, and now he has spent time with the king of Chazzrynn. You have a bit much on your plate, Harlian.
” l
aughter rolled lightly from the corners and balconies where every cutthroat killer and criminal in the guild watched.

“
Remove their gags.” Johnas pointed to the human guards inside, and they did as they were ordered.

Balric felt relief as his teeth could now close and the soppy rag was free of his mouth. He looked around, head lowered, noticing a strange figure next to the throne that Johnas rested in. He had
very little hair left on his head, and the skin was tight and drawn strange over his skull. Scars on his neck looked severe and recent, like his neck had been severed by a blade. Bony white hands with black fingernails held a gnarled banyan root that had been polished into a staff atopped with a human skull. His face resembled a corpse as much as a man, and a strange shadowy mist seemed to spin gently over his dark eyes, enervating the strength in Balric’s breathing. He turned his eyes away from the unnerving stare of the robed man, and tried to glance at Vanessa beside him instead.

“I told the king nothing, nor the prince. We were taken against our will Johnas and-“

A brutal kidney shot
from a small club dropped the H
arlian spy to his knees, turning his sp
eech into low moans and stifled curses. The me
n around him laughed and put their hands on his
shoulders to keep the bound spy
from falling over onto his face.
The human agent with his cloth mask pulled up over his nose whispered into Balric’s ear.
“You will speak when spoken to, prisoner. Next time, I club your woman, or have some sort of fun with her.
On your feet.”

“Tell me, Balric of Harlaheim, what would you do if you were me? Should I kill you both, throw you in the pit? Enlighten me.” Johnas drew his blade, the enchanted weapon hummed from the emerald in the pommel to the end of the wavy kris blade. It told its owner
by the vibrations, to kill him
and let it feel the blood upon its steel edge, but the prince held still and merely pointed the weapon at his prisoners.