The noble scars, p.17
The Noble Scars, page 17
Standing in the corner of the great hall was a group of eunuchs awaiting their turn to perform. He managed to join the group without drawing attention to either himself or his sword that was concealed under his baggy wardrobe.
Zerin was no more than fifty paces away from Bardek, and there were only two guards between them, although there were likely more outside. But it wouldn’t matter if Bardek’s entire army was in the hallway or in the room here itself. The time was right. This was his chance to kill the king, regardless of the peril.
Zerin entered the dance, hoping to work his way over to Bardek without notice. He was halfway across the great hall when he reached under his robe and clenched the hilt of his sword. In just a few moments it would be over.
He was ten paces away, ready to spring, when the doors to the hallway burst open and four soldiers came through. Bardek rose to his feet and clapped his hands for the music to stop. Zerin cursed, having missed his opportunity, but decided he was too close to turn back. He would just have to face the guards afterward. He stepped forward and readied to brandish his weapon when he heard Bardek speak.
“It’s good to see you, my dear. How lovely you look tonight. Please, come dance for me.”
The woman walked slowly out of the shadows. The dancers on the floor retreated to the side, awaiting Bardek’s next order. Zerin was stranded in the middle of the dance floor, all alone, looking at Bardek’s bride. He stared for several moments, losing his composure, forgetting his surroundings… it was the veiled woman.
Chapter 22
Caution was an unfamiliar approach for Escura, yet he descended the dark steps into the wizard’s lair with the wariness of a spooked hare. Twice, he stopped, raising his sword to strike, only to see a rat chewing on remains or a lizard scurrying from the light of his torch.
As he descended the curved stairs, the entirety of the lair came into view. The adjacent wall was lined with cages about three feet high. In the far corner was a long table with books, tools, and knives strewn across it. To his left was a small flight of steps that led down into darkness. At the far end of the room, on the black altar, sat the brass book; the only polished item in view. Against the wall to his right, hanging upside down, was a stripped and bloody body. It was so still he couldn’t tell whether it lived or not.
Escura slowly walked through the pit, his heart pounding as he approached the cages, when he heard a chilling voice reach out to him.
“K-kill me,” it said, so faint that he couldn’t tell where it came from.
He jumped back, spinning around, looking for its source, only to hear it again.
“Kill me. Please kill me.”
But it was different from the first. Then came another and another, all begging for the same thing. He approached the small cages and found prisoners stuffed inside. One was missing teeth while another had an empty eye socket. He saw burn marks, open wounds, and missing limbs.
He lay down the torch on the edge of a table and tried to pry open the cage doors, but the iron was too strong. The pleas for mercy continued until he saw no recourse but to oblige.
The prisoners willingly pressed themselves against the bars of their tiny cages. Escura plunged his sword through the neck of the first. The second prisoner thrust his chest forward. Peace came into the man’s face as he embraced his escape. Never had Escura seen men seek death so eagerly.
He approached the third prisoner, who was more frantic then the others. His hands waved fiercely through the bars as he repeated something over and over, but Escura couldn’t understand him. Escura readied to strike, but the prisoner held his hands up to stop him, continuing to mumble the same words. Escura lowered his sword and knelt to listen.
“Down there, down there,” the prisoner repeated.
Escura turned to see the man pointing toward the stairwell on the far side of the pit.
“Down there, down the stairs. You must kill what is down there before it’s too late. That’s where the stench comes from, it’s the wizard’s—”
Escura watched his eyes fill with terror as he crawled to the back of his cage. The pirate jumped to his feet and spun around, his weapon raised.
“Hello, Escura.”
Ten paces away, in full robe and hood, stood Maeldroth.
~
Galvin pulled back the prisoner’s rags to discover a decrepit old man. His eyes had been removed, one ear had been hacked off, and his tongue had been cut out. If it weren’t for the odd facial twitch, Galvin would swear he was two months past dead. The giant tried to speak to him, but the man was incoherent. So, he wrapped him back up and fled down the hallway, hoping to escape the same way he came in.
He paused when he came to a fork in the corridors, one leading toward escape and the other farther into the castle where his friends might be. They had risked much to free this prisoner, even if the man couldn’t speak.
Galvin took the route toward escape in hopes that Zerin and Escura had done the same. He picked up the pace, knowing he had a daunting journey before he reached the doorway leading to the stables.
As he continued through the familiar surroundings of the hallways, atrocious memories of his role as the executioner crept into his mind. Hundreds of men had he killed, whether they were guilty or not. His rage swelled as he thought about what he had done, how he’d defiled his honor as the wizard’s monstrosity. He felt foolish for believing in Bardek. For this, there would be justice, and if this prisoner was the key to it, then by all the damnation in Belth, he would get him out.
Up ahead, Galvin could see the light emanating from the room with five corridors where he had last seen Zerin and Escura. He quickened his pace in anticipation of escape. But when he entered the room, he came to a halt. Five guards awaited his arrival. Revenge for their slain comrades was upon their faces. The giant waited for them to make a move. The guard farthest away from him opened a satchel strapped to his back. He pulled out a huge horn, raised it to his lips, and readied to blow the general alarm.
~
Zerin had seen her unveiled face for only a moment in Brakton, but he had never forgotten it. He had spent too many nights thinking of her for it to slip from his mind. He was so taken with her presence that he lost himself.
“What are you staring at, eunuch?” someone snapped at him.
The entirety of the room was looking at Zerin as he stood alone in the middle of the dance floor, his hand still on his sword under his garment.
He turned his head to see that it was Bardek who had yelled at him. He tried to speak but couldn’t. As if he didn’t have enough reasons to hate Bardek, now he was betrothed to the woman he’d been dreaming of. Zerin could lunge quickly and possibly end it here, but the arrival of the veiled woman had distracted him from his task. He let go of his weapon, bowed to Bardek, and backed away to join the other dancers.
“Continue with the music,” Bardek ordered. “You there, standing first in line, dance with the princess.”
Zerin watched as one of the eunuchs stepped out and took her hand. The music began, and they danced.
Zerin watched in awe. The flowing lines of her silk dress emulated the grace of every step she took. The splendor with which she danced did not mimic the dispassion in her eyes, however. Zerin could feel her torment. But he was so enamored with her that he failed to recognize the song at first. It was a tune he remembered from his teenage years—a passionate song, richly melodic with romantic overtures, often performed at weddings. It was called The Song of Two Dance. How ironic that he now watched the veiled woman dance to it with a lame man for the amusement of his mortal enemy.
The minstrels were exquisite percussionists, fiddlers, and a myriad of other musicians who played the harp, the horn, and the lute. The music was wondrous, but the dance itself was awkward. The veiled woman moved gracefully, but her partner was unfamiliar with the proper steps. He tried admirably but couldn’t hide his faults.
After several moments of facial retorts, Bardek jumped to his feet and rushed the floor. “Enough,” he cried, stopping the music. He grabbed the eunuch by his collar and shoved him. “You clod! You couldn’t dance with my horse’s ass!”
Zerin rushed over to the poor man and helped him to his feet. He looked deeply through the man’s veil, who seemed untouched by the events, as if he were accustomed to humiliation.
“Which one of you knows this dance?” Bardek demanded.
There was an uncomfortable silence until Zerin said, “I know this dance.”
“Then get up here and do so, and for your sake, you better know it well.”
Bardek turned his back to Zerin and walked toward his throne.
His chance lay before him; he could spring upon him and end it right here. He started walking toward the king, his hand sliding behind his back to release his sword. He would have to flee immediately or fight each of the guards, but it would be worth it for a chance to kill Bardek.
He quickened his pace, scanning the hall for exits, concluding that he would retreat the same way he’d come in. He was no more than two steps away from Bardek when he felt someone touch his shoulder. He turned to see her; she was ready to commence with the dance. Their eyes met through his veil. He was taken by her touch, distracted by her beauty. The moment was gone, the assassination impeded.
“Proceed,” Bardek commanded, and the music began.
Zerin took her left hand in his and held her waist with the other. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, quickly realizing he was not one of the usual dancers. Her hand slid down his shoulder and felt his arm. She scanned his broad shoulders and stared into his veil, trying to identify him.
Zerin took the first step, and the dance began. The music flowed like leaves on an autumn breeze. There were no breaks in the melody, and the two danced in perfect harmony, anticipating each other’s moves as if they had done so a hundred times before.
“You dance divinely, sir, and yet, I feel we haven’t met. How can that be?” she asked quietly, but her partner didn’t respond.
They continued dancing without fault to Bardek’s pleasure, but as the music intensified, so did the motion, forcing their bodies tightly into one another. When their thighs pressed together, her eyes lit up, and she gave out a shallow gasp.
“You are no eunuch! Who are you?”
“Actually, milady,” he whispered through his veil, “we have met once before… in the town of Brakton.”
The princess stared into his veil until finally she recognized him. She was so shocked she lost a step, but Zerin grasped her firmly to keep their stride intact. She turned her head to see if the guards or Bardek suspected anything.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered frantically.
“Well… at the moment… I’m dancing with you, but I feel inclined to ask you the same question.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you here to wed this man?”
“Are you here to kill him?”
“Would it bother you if I did?” Zerin replied as he effortlessly swung her through the air without missing a single step of The Song of Two Dance.
But she didn’t answer, instead she looked away.
“Do you love him?” he asked. “Why are you marrying him?”
“I must,” she blurted out.
“That’s not an answer.”
“So, you are here to kill him. Is that all you men know how to do? You once saved me from the arms of bloodthirsty men. Am I in the arms of another?”
They danced on while Zerin contemplated his answer
“Aye,” he said, “you are.”
“You say that with pride?”
“No, I don’t, but I won’t deny who I am. I am this way because I’d rather die than live a life of submission under your tyrant’s rule.”
The princess was unsure whether she should scream for help or just keep dancing. She could only pray he was the good man that she remembered from Brakton. She didn’t know what to say to him, so they danced on, losing themselves in the melodies of the music, forgetting their surroundings, welcoming the feel of each other’s embrace, until Zerin felt compelled to speak further.
“What is your name, milady?” he boldly asked, his confidence growing.
She smiled ever so slightly. “My name is Aprinthia, but you may call me Thia.”
“Hello, Thia. My name is Zerin.”
She struggled to contain her smile. “I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are.” They danced on until Thia spoke again. “Zerin?”
“Yes, Thia?”
“Thank you for saving me in Brakton,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“You are most welcome, milady.”
Zerin didn’t press further about her reasons for marriage, surmising that she was being made to marry against her will.
They continued without speaking again, dancing much closer than before, even though the forms of the dance didn’t call for it. Zerin was losing himself in the moment, forgetting where he was and why he was there, until they were interrupted by commotion outside the hall. Trumpeting alarms rang throughout the castle as the doors burst open and a dozen guards marched in.
“Stop the music,” Bardek commanded.
“Intruders, sire. We have intruders in the castle. A dozen guards have been killed.”
Zerin and Thia stopped dancing, but the princess refused to let go.
“Seal the exits and protect the princess.”
Several guards ran toward Thia while another guard entered the hall from the dressing room that Zerin had come through.
“King Bardek,” he spoke, holding up Zerin’s clothes. “We have an imposter in the room.”
Bardek and the guards turned toward the eunuchs, realizing one of them must be in disguise. When they moved in, Zerin reached around his back, pulled out his sword, and placed it to Thia’s neck.
“If you wish a wedding with something other than a corpse, I suggest you order your guards to back off.”
“Who the Belth are you?” Bardek raged.
Zerin reached over his back with his free hand and tore off his garment.
Chapter 23
Galvin stood in the chamber with five corridors, surrounded by as many guards. He slowly lowered the prisoner as they circled him, their focus keenly on the old man. Galvin couldn’t risk exposing him by striking first, so he waited for the guards to attack, hoping to counter their assault.
His chance came swiftly as two of them lunged from the front. With his weapon gripped in both hands, Galvin blocked a thrust, then brought his shaft down upon the soldier, crushing his helmet and skull while sending his boot into the ribs of the other. While Galvin was distracted, the other guards advanced from behind. He twirled and swung his axe at the third guard, who stood over the old man. His head spun in the air, spraying blood like a pinwheel before it hit the stone floor.
Galvin turned to confront the two remaining guards but wasn’t fast enough to keep one of them from striking his existing wound. The giant hollered and slapped the guard with the back of his hand, breaking his jaw and sending his body ten paces from where he stood. Mustering his rage, Galvin attacked the final soldier with an overhead thrust of his axe. The guard raised his sword to block, but Galvin crushed the man’s sword, splitting his metal helm and killing him instantly.
Galvin heard more guards coming, so he turned to pick up the prisoner but slipped in a puddle of blood. He landed on all fours. When he looked up, he saw the second guard, the one he’d kicked in the ribs, standing over him with his sword aloft.
~
Escura froze. If it had been any other foe, he would have lunged and killed him.
“Hello, Escura,” the wizard said. “It’s been a long time. My how you’ve grown.”
“I’ve come to kill you!”
“I know you have. You’ve found everyone you’ve been looking for except for me.” The wizard chuckled. “Your rage pays me tribute.”
The pirate’s knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword; he stared into the wizard’s eyes, oblivious to his surroundings and the saturating stench.
“I must tell you, Escura,” the wizard continued, walking in a circle around the pirate, forcing him to turn as well. “It’s a shame we must be enemies when there’s so much to gain through an alliance. I knew you had come for me. I could feel your presence, along with the two imbeciles you travel with. The giant is a weak-minded fool, and Zerin is not the champion people believe him to be. They will not survive the night, but you needn’t share their demise. I know your thoughts. I know when you are near, and I can quell your anger. You could live here in the castle and share in my fortunes.”
When the wizard stepped within reach, the pirate attacked, leaping with the speed of a mountain lion, closing the few paces that stood between them in an instant. With a wide and angry swipe, he slashed through the wizard’s torso, only to discover that it was an apparition.
“You must understand, Escura,” the wizard spoke from the far end of the pit, “I fight with means that are not of this world. We could accomplish great things, you and me. You could live in this palace, have women and riches. There’s a kingdom to be had. I could convince Bardek to make you his general, perhaps even his successor.”
“All I want from you is your agony,” Escura said.
“Then go ahead, kill me if you can.”
The wizard walked up to Escura, his head lowered, his neck exposed. With one quick swipe, metal met bone, and the wizard’s head toppled to the floor. His body hit the ground like a bag of kindling.
Escura labored to accept the ease with which his good fortune came. He slowly approached the body, standing over the headless carcass, realizing something was missing. There was no blood. The floor should have been covered.
He poked the body with his sword before hearing a shrieking echo throughout the cavern, its pitch so high that it hurt his ears. He looked everywhere but could find no sign of the wizard, yet the laughter roared on.
