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THE
BREACH
The castle looked abandoned. Snow covered the walls and the roof of the main tower.
“I don’t know,” Leck returned softly. “But I think that we’ll soon find out. Follow me.”
“We can scale it,” Fighil reasoned, “But we’ll have to take off our armor and weapons.”
“Ok,” Leck said, viewing the wall, and trying to find the most practical route. “I’ll go first.”
Once he was over the wall and standing safely on the battlements, Leck saw that the yard was covered with untouched snow. There was no movement, no noise that gave evidence of any signs of life. After quickly making sure that it was safe, Leck motioned for his friends to climb up. Fighil naturally made it up in mere seconds, and together they pulled up their armor and weapons, which the Giant tied in a bundle in his new cape. In a few more minutes, all three were standing on the snow-covered battlements.
“Well,” Leck spoke up – breaking the silence, “If no one has any better ideas, then I say we put on our armor, and start exploring.”
“I agree, we should put on our armor, but let’s not run anywhere just yet. First, we open the gate, in case we need to make a quick escape,” Fighil reasoned.
“Right.”
Leck said. He completely forgot about that important detail, and silently
berated himself. “Let move.”
* * *
More time passed. Torin had no idea how long, and for him there were no changes. He was still tortured, although less after his meeting with the elven lord. He was still fed scraps twice a day, and the water he was given smelled like it was fresh out from the sewers. He was still kept chained to the wall – except for a few hours when he was allowed to sleep, and there was always a guard watching him. Torin knew that if he kept this up, before long he would fall sick and perish, and for once in his life, he had no idea of what to do.
Torin woke up at the sound of the cell door opening. The jailer, accompanied by two guards entered.
“Get up slime. You’re wanted upstairs.”
Quickly and efficiently, the two guards picked him up and tied up his hands behind his back. “Let’s go,” one of them growled, pushing Torin towards the door.
While being led through the corridors and up
different flights of stairs, Torin tried to stretch his arm and leg-muscles the
best he could, without arousing suspicion. He decided that he wouldn’t return
to his cell if he could help it. That decision was made because the guard
walking behind him slipped a small-bladed knife into his tied hands.
Leanast carefully examined the two prisoners in his room. One was a short chubby human who carried himself with dignity and although he seemed at ease, Leanast knew it wasn’t so. The other prisoner was Rolethand – a very young elf and renegade magician. Now he was clearly nervous. His eyes darted in different directions, and everyone in the room heard his ragged breathing. There were also six Red Guard soldiers, two at the door, and four surrounding the prisoners… or guests, Leanast quickly amended himself.
“I’ll ask again elf. Where is the Duke?” – the baron’s baritone boomed through the large room.
Leanast turned his now-amused expression back to the baron. “My name is Leanast K’alaroth. Perhaps you have heard of me?” – the ragged breathing stopped. Rolethand was visibly in awe.
The baron remained unperturbed. “You’re some kind of advisor to the Duke, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that is a safe assumption. But I’m not ‘some advisor.’
I’m his only advisor, and he gave me complete authority in handling cases such
as yours. Therefore, I suggest that we remain on good terms.” – the last
sentence was spoken in the same slightly amused tone, but the elf’s eyes
narrowed as he spoke.
* * *
After carefully surveying every building from the outside and seeing no apparent signs of life, Leck and his two friends entered the main tower. Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. As they entered the common room, one man – he was dressed in all black, and held a long slender sword – greeted them. He stood in the middle of the room, which was slightly lit by the sunlight coming from the window.
“A Black Guard soldier.” Fighil whispered softly, but his words were nevertheless carried across the room. “They are the best, toughest trained swordsmen-fighters in the land. To defeat him…”
“...Is impossible,” the Black Guard finished for him, his voice sounding clear and calm. His face seemed devoid of emotions. The man might have been a corpse. Leck slowly drew out his sword, and Fighil did the same. The Giant took the axe off his back.
“Spread
out,” Fighil called out, motioning with his arms to the right and to the left.
He knew that if they were to have a chance against a Black Guard, they had to
work in perfect unity with one another.
* * *
“Ah, I believe here comes someone else to join our jolly little group,” Leanast remarked, after hearing a respectful knock on the door. “Yes yes, bring him in. Dear Baron,” Leanast continued, “I do believe you know this man… quite well.”
Vidol’s heart dropped. Leck… it couldn’t be. The door opened, admitting two burly guards in dirty leather armor and a tall man with black, or very dirty hair. No it wasn’t Leck, the Baron thought with great relief, but still, the face looked very familiar.
“Welcome Torin of Ronse. I’m pleased you could join us.” Torin locked eyes with the older elf, trying to understand how he could know the name of Torin’s home village.
“And I am glad to be here.” He answered calmly.
“Yes, I’m sure you are. Now Torin, I’m positive that you recognize your friend, Baron Vidol…”
“Baron Vidol? I think I’ve heard of him. Which of these two fine gentlemen is Baron Vidol” Torin asked.
“… And I am sure that you recognize Rolethand the mage,” Leanast finished, unfazed by the interruption.
Rolethand and the Baron spoke up at the same time; “Your Grace… … Look elf, I don’t know what you’re talking about… … He is the one who killed my servants and… … I’ve never seen this wretch before… … stole the dagger from me…”
“That’s enough.” Both men quieted down. Now all three were standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all six guards. Leanast looked at them thoughtfully. “I think that we’ll save ourselves a lot time and hardship if the baron tells me where the dagger is.”
The dagger! So that’s what this was all about! The whole situation was turning out to be very interesting. “Would that happen to be a slender, well-made dagger with a ruby set in the pommel?” – Torin asked seriously. He cut through his bonds long time ago, but it was easy to make it look like they were still tied.
“You know very well which dagger I mean assassin!” Leanast screeched. With some difficulty, he brought himself back under control. As if taken aback by the outburst, Torin took a step back, placing himself closer to one of the guards.
“Ahhh… I guess I can tell you where it is, if you promise to let us go,” Torin looked at him hopefully.
The elf’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “ So Vidol gave you the dagger?” he asked.
“Torin! You… traitorous dog!” the Baron roared.
Leanast smiled. “Where is it?”
Torin looked at him in feigned surprise. “Why, it’s…”
In the middle of the sentence, his hand
holding the small knife snapped out, burying the blade into the nearest
guards’ neck. At the same time, his right leg flew out, catching another guard
in the groin, while his left hand grabbed the already dead guard’s sword,
drawing it from the scabbard and stabbing yet another guard in the stomach –
in the same fluid motion. The soldier’s only reaction was a gasp, before he
fell back dead in mere seconds. The man Torin kicked would stay down for at
least thirty seconds, probably longer. This left Torin with three… no, two
guards, because the baron – seeing Torin’s attack acted immediately.
Although his hands were tied behind his back, he launched himself at the nearest
guard, easily tackling the man to the ground. Surprisingly, Rolethand facing
Leanast was casting some kind of a spell. The mage’s eyes were closed, and he
was muttering something softly. But was he helping them, or fighting against
them? Unfortunately Torin had more urgent problems, in form of two Red Guards
who were running up to him with drawn swords. Well, he’s faced worse odds
before.
* * *
“Are we fighting one man, or three?” Leck though with desperate wonder. Truly the man seemed to be everywhere at once. The only one, who wasn’t exhausted or hurt, was the Giant. And of course, The Black Guard. Leck’s left hand was slightly bleeding, and Fighil had a more serious wound in his shoulder. Both wounds were delivered in the first thirty seconds of the battle.
Fighil was scared. Not of this particular man, of the image, of the whole Black Guard unit in general. They were taught to kill, not wound but kill mercilessly. Fighil himself almost joined them, back twelve years ago it was considered the highest possible honor, but he failed the last test. Now he was being re-tested, and thank Gods he wasn’t alone.
Leck fought just like he sparred with Torin. Mostly he stayed on the defensive, attacking only when he was sure there was an opening. And there were openings, but somehow Leck’s sword would never reach the target. But he knew that if he were to go on the offensive, he would be dead within seconds.
A bright red gash appeared on the Giant’s cheek, and something of a smile flashed across the Black Guard’s face. Roaring in pain and rage, the Giant went into a series of swings and thrusts with his axe, and at the same time Fighil thrust from the other side. Amazingly enough, the man ducked and deflected, rolled to the side and came up face to face with Leck. “I don’t care about your bodyguards,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you’re wanted dead.” And he went into a frenzied attack.
At this point all thoughts of playing it safe, of home, of his father,
left Leck. His mind grew completely calm, and the only things that remained were
his body and his sword. It felt as time slowed a bit, just enough to see each
coming attack and deflect it. This was something that Torin taught him – to
posses absolute control of his mind and his body. He barely deflected each
swing, backing up with every step, getting several scratches because his block
was not in time, but Leck knew, that he had never fought as well in his life as
today. But it wasn’t enough. Even though his defense has never been better,
Leck understood perfectly well that he wouldn’t last another five seconds
before receiving a mortal wound.
* * *
Leanast felt as if he was physically pinned to his chair. Fear had a complete hold on him, and his usually quick mind was ruled by total chaos. He couldn’t think, much less act. Trying to somewhat organize his thoughts, he arrived to a conclusion that the smartest thing to do in this desperate situation would be to call for help. But how?
Oh yes, he remembered. To the right of his chair, hung a chord that was tied to a bell. All he had to do was ring the bell, and the room would be filled with castle guards in the matter of seconds. Leanast silently congratulated himself, and… to his utter dismay, his arms wouldn’t move! It felt as if they weighed five tons. With trepidation, he tried moving his legs, but they wouldn’t move either. His body simply ceased to obey him – he couldn’t even open his mouth. With growing horror Leanast looked at the young renegade mage who was still standing in front of him, and realized Rolethand completely paralyzed him. All he could do was watch, as Torin swiftly and brutally killed both guards that were attacking him, while the Baron knocked his opponent unconscious – breaking the guard’s nose with his forehead, and the fight was over.
“Anyone want to help me?” Vidol growled, in vain trying to rise to his feet. Torin quickly walked over to him and cut the rope that was tied around the Baron’s wrists. Then he helped the stout man to his feet and they both turned their wary gazes towards Rolethand. Feeling a little more than uncomfortable, his own eyes trying to watch both men at the same time, the young mage stammered, “I… I cast a spell… it’s, uh, paralyzed K’alaroth for the next few minutes… I hope…”
“It seems like we’re on the same side, mage. At least until we get away from Dhelox,” Torin remarked. Rolethand let out a big breath in obvious relief.
“What?!” the Baron looked at Torin incredulously. “Are you crazy? That thief…”
“… Is in a position to be a great inconvenience if we do not take him along,” Torin cut in with slight exasperation evident in his voice. “Right now, we have to forget the past, and think about the present and near future. We need the mage’s help, and he needs ours.”
“What’s going to stop him from betraying us?”
“Oh, I don’t think that there is any danger of that,” Torin said with amusement. “He values his life too much. Without our help, he will never be able to get out. And also…”
“Alright, alright!” throwing his hands up in frustration, the Baron stalked towards the door, muttering under his breath something about ‘thieves’ and ‘fool assassins’.
Keeping his eyes on Leanast, Torin called out, “Going far, Baron?”
* * *
The Black Guard’s determination soon changed to frustration, and then to rage. His attacks were growing faster and stronger, and yet, he couldn’t break though his opponent’s defenses. He, one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom – couldn’t kill a fifteen year-old kid! Of course the lad would fall eventually, but right now time wasn’t on the guard’s side. There were two armed men behind him and quickly closing in, but he was so close to victory! His sword went up, slashed down, forcing the opponent’s sword high, and swiftly reversed the blade in mid-strike and thrust at the boy’s belly. But again, at the last possible moment Leck stepped aside deflecting the weapon as he moved, and they were back to square one. This was not going how the guard planned, although the plan had been simple. All he had to do was kill the boy, and then… he felt a big jolt and incredible pain in his back. How could they have gotten to me so quickly, was the Black Guard’s last thought before the darkness overtook him.
His breath coming in short gasps, Leck slowly lowered his sword. As his enemy fell dead to the colt stone floor, Leck saw a huge axe buried deep in the guard’s back. It took him a few moments to realize that the axe belonged to the Giant, and looking up he saw his friends standing some five yards away, relief clear in their tired faces Leck silently thanked the Gods that he wasn’t alone.
Leck took in a deep breath, and slowly released it. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer against him.”
“Your defensive work was excellent,” Fighil remarked, walking over to Leck and grasping his shoulder. The Giant simply smiled.
They searched the castle thoroughly, and found all the servants locked in the dungeon, including the jailer. All were very much alive, and all were very much hungry. The keys to the cells hung in their usual place – on a hook by the door. Leck let them out, and the whole group immediately ran to the kitchen, all fervently thanking Leck and his friends for rescuing them from a certain death in the meanwhile. Soon, the oven was red-hot and the cooks were working faster than ever. Having nothing better to do, he decided to stay in the kitchen, while Fighil and the Giant along with a few servants went around the common room, straightening out the furniture. They also sent a servant to the village with the good news.
Leck didn’t stay in the kitchen to help – he was too busy watching
Rethana. She must have just turned fifteen, Leck reasoned – and he couldn’t
help noticing her slim figure, full lips that fit perfectly with her softly
angled face and her quite large bosom. Unquestionably, she looked older.
Watching her moving around the kitchen with purpose, giving orders to her
helpers and from time to time throwing him little smiles, Leck felt himself
growing warm all over, then cold, then warm again. He found himself waiting for
her next smile, and yet every time she turned her eyes to him he looked away,
ashamed. Why was he ashamed – he didn’t know.
*
* *
“Well,” Torin said, carefully look over his two companions, “I think we’ll do fine.”
“We’d do better if the double-crossing elf over here would stop whining!” the Baron muttered, glaring at Torin.
“I’m not whining!” the young mage protested. “It’s just that your way of escaping seems too dangerous.”
They were finally ready to leave. Dressing themselves in the Red Guard’s uniforms, they tied up and gagged Leanast, still not quite sure about what to do with him. Well, the Baron and Rolethand weren’t sure. Torin knew exactly what he wanted to do.
“OK my friend,” Torin spoke with deliberate calmness. “Perhaps you have a better idea. Please, enlighten us.”
Rolethand nervously chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. May the assassin was right and there was no other way. Escaping through the windows would get them nowhere, while going through the door was out of the question. Plus there was K’alaroth… and then he thought of something.
“What if we make K’alaroth write us a formal letter, stating that we are in fact the Red Guards working for him?” – He said, a sly smile slowly spreading across his face.
“Alright,” – Torin quickly agreed. “That is a good idea. Now you two go wait for me by the door, while I…” he slightly smiled and his narrowed his eyes. “While I’ll get the letter from his Divine Honorship here.”
“Torin…” – the Baron begun warningly.
“Don’t worry my friend. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“That is exactly what I am afraid of.” Vidol muttered as he walked towards the door, grabbing the confused mage along the way.
Ten minutes later, all three exited the Duke’s Castle and headed for the royal stables.
“Hey, you there,” the Baron barked the as they entered the large and smelly building. “We need three horses. Now.” The stable boy was half-asleep, but quickly jumped to attention.
“Yes sir. Right away sir. The best horses sir.” He piped, and ran off to saddle their steeds.
“Everything seems to be going well,” Torin remarked quietly.
“Yes, it is.” The Baron agreed. “As long as the elf doesn’t’ show his face…”
“Quiet!” Torin interrupted fiercely, his voice barely audible. “Someone is coming!” And indeed, a few moments later a tall, broad-shouldered man – dressed in Red Guard’s uniform entered the Stables. Right away, Torin noticed the king’s golden seal on the man’s tabard and snapped to attention. The officer walked by them, seemingly not paying any attention, but Torin knew what was expected. Quickly turning to face the officer, he saluted, making a fist with his right hand and pressing it to his chest.. After a moment of hesitation, the Baron followed his lead. The elf however, blundered badly. He started lifting his hand, but stopped in mid-motion as if unsure of what to do next. It took quite a bit of Torin’s considerable will power not to throttle the ignorant mage on the spot. The officer almost passed them, but then Rolethand got his attention. Slowly, the tall man turned around to face them. Soundlessly Cursing, Torin kept his eyes in front of him. He could kill the man, but probably not before the officer called for help.
“Who are you with?” the Red Guard asked suddenly, glaring at them with irritation.
“We are from company eight, sir.” Torin spoke, hoping that eight was a plausible number for a regiment. “We were sent on a secret mission by lord… I’m sorry sir, I cannot tell you his name.” – that sounded realistic enough, to Torin anyway.
“Where are your papers?” the officer demanded.
“Our
mission was judged to be very dangerous sir, so we were given just one
paper…”
“Let me see it!”
“Certainly sir. Here it is.” Torin took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to the officer, who was still eyeing them suspiciously. As the man read the paper, his eyebrows jumped up, and he paled slightly. After he finished reading, he quickly handed the document back to Torin. “Very good men,” he said somewhat taken aback. “Proceed as ordered.” And with that, he turned around and left the Stables.
The Baron was the first to let out a loud sigh of relief. “Damn, that was too close! What the hell does that paper say Torin?”
Wordlessly,
Torin handed over the parchment, and the Baron quickly read it;
‘The owner of this letter is on an important assignment provided by me. Anything he does, he does in my name.
Signed, Leanast K’alaroth
There was the Duke’s stamp next to the signature.
“I think it’s about time we head home,” Torin remarked. “What do you want to do with the elf, Baron?”
“I can go my own way assassin,” Rolethand broke in.
“I’m sure you can. I’m just not sure whether you’ll hold your tongue, when the Black Guard catches up with you.”
“What…”
“You see elf, you’re complicated in the murder of the Duke’s closest advisor. They’ll hang you…”
Rolethand turned slightly pale.
“But,” Torin continued, “Not before they cut off your and rip out your testicles. Therefore,” he went on, seeing the mage turn whiter than flour, “To be on the safe side, I think you should come with us. At least together we have a better chance.”
“Yes, I’ll come…”
“Good, I’m glad you arrived to this decision all on you own.”
* * *
THE
BELATED MEETING
“Well, I am very glad no one died except that… what did you call him?”
“Black Guard.” Fighil supplied.
“That’s right.” – Lerjad took a deep pull from his pipe and smiled contently “You know Leck,” he said turning towards the young man, “Maybe it’s not my place to say, but… I am very proud of you.”
Leck nodded absently, but his thoughts were far away. It was late evening, they were sitting in Lerjad’s kitchen and discussing their plans for the future. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rethana. When she wasn’t with him he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and when they were together, his thoughts were so scattered that he could barely hold a conversation. He dreamed them marrying, living in the castle together, and at night… Leck blushed furiously. He wasn’t really sure of what would happen, but he knew it would be great. Suddenly something in the discussion caught his ear.
“… Look for Leck’s father,” Fighil was saying. Lerjad didn’t say anything – he simply nodded. “I would expect nothing less from you.”
“So it is decided,” Leck said grimly, reluctantly letting go of his dreams. “I’m glad and thankful that you agreed to go with me. It won’t be easy…” he was interrupted by someone frantically beating on the door. “It’s open!” – Lerjad called loudly, and before he even finished the sentence, the door flung open and a young boy stumbled in, visibly out of breath. The terrified look on his face made all men in the room rise from their seats. Leck and Fighil grabbed their swords.
“Red.. … Guards… co… thisway…” the boy gasped for air between every word.
“OK, come down son, you’re a good lad. Now, do you know how many there are?”
“Three,” the boy said, breathing a little easier. Leck, Fighil and the Giant exchanged puzzled looks.
“Maybe they are only a patrol, scouts for a large force,” Fighil reasoned.
“No Fighil, you’re probably wrong,” Leck was quick to cut in, after he saw the boy’s face turn white and his eyes grow to the size of teacups.
“The villagers will back you up if you plan to attack,” The smith said grimly. “We’ll take them in no time.”
“Wait-wait-wait, hold on, let’s not make any rash decisions here…”
“Well well. And who do we have here?”
Everyone in the room froze. The voice came from the street, and for some reason it sounded vaguely familiar to Leck.
“Damn! We didn’t have time to put on our armor!” Fighil whispered.
“It’s too late,” Leck said gritting his teeth. “Now we don’t have any choice. Let’s go meet them.”
Weapons in hand, Leck, Fighil, the Giant and Lerjad went outside. And indeed, three horsemen greeted them as soon as they stepped out.
“You’ve changed apprentice,” the same hauntingly familiar voice spoke again.
Leck peered into the darkness, trying to see
the rider’s faces, when one of them swiftly dismounted and… Leck dropped his
sword as he realized that this man was none other than his father, the Baron.
After the introductions have been made, the horses unsaddled and led
away, the mugs were filled to the brink with hot mulled wine and the plates
filled with food… (The food was cook by Rethana). After all that, they shared
their stories. Each story took a while and the sun was high up by the time the
last story was told. The news that the Baron returned spread through the night,
and there wasn’t a villager who didn’t come by to greet him. Now that the
Baron returned – they thought – everything will be just fine…
“…We have to leave, the sooner the better,” the Torin was saying, looking at each man in the room intently. “If they haven’t yet then very soon – the authorities will figure out that we killed K’alaroth…”
“Hey, wait one minute,” the Baron protested. “What do you mean WE killed him!? You…”
“Look at it this way Baron,” Torin cut in. “They might know who I am, but they have no idea of where to look for me. You – on the other hand, are an easy target.”
“Fine,” the Baron said as he thought it over. “But what will happen to my county? The Duke will probably give it to some dunce…”
“Let’s hope he will, because if he decides to give it to someone with a head on their shoulders, it will be much tougher getting it back.”
“But what if…”
“Baron,” Torin said with slight exasperation, “I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did, but I don’t. All I know is that right now we have to run, or we’ll all be dead. If you stay here, then the Duke will bring an army, and your villagers will be as good as dead.”
Suddenly, Leck spoke up; “I agree with Torin. Everyone in this room except Lerjad is tied to some killing. My friends and I killed a Black Guard. You three killed some official. We should run – we have no other options.” Gloomy silence filled the room for a short while, until the Baron loudly cleared his throat.
“Then it’s decided. Right now we all
need to get some sleep. We’ll meet here at five in the afternoon, and start
out,” He rose from his chair. “I’m going to bed.”
Although Leck didn’t sleep for over twenty-four hours, he didn’t feel tired or sleepy. Lying in his bed, he thought about Rethana. He felt lonely, lonely and sorry for himself. Again he was leaving, but now he knew that it was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. “But I don’t have to like it,” he thought to himself. Finally, sleep took him. Rethana greeted him in his dreams.
To be Continued...
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