Age of shadows, p.6
Age of Shadows, page 6
Toryn slumped back against the wall. Could it be months? Years even? The Five Realms could fall while he was scrubbing pots and pans, or mucking out stables. His eyes wandered up to the low ceiling. The Archon sat somewhere in his grand rooms only a few hundred feet above his head — but Toryn may as well be on the other side of the Draegelan Trench. He wondered what had become of Hope. A wry smile crossed his face; it would be quite a trick if she could rescue him from the depths of the citadel from under the Archon’s nose.
The door creaked open at the end of the passageway. The prison guard’s voice echoed off the thick walls. ‘And this is where we keep the less troublesome folk.’ Toryn was relieved to hear himself described in such a manner. The guard continued. ‘But make sure you still follow the correct procedure. Even if they’re no danger, we don’t want them wandering out of their cells, or you’ll have the warden to answer to. And trust me, young fellow, the warden is none too keen on young Archonians. He failed the trial in his day and has held it against them ever since.’
They stopped outside Toryn’s cell. ‘This one’s in for trespassing. He was apprehended at the Menon Bridge.’ He chuckled. ‘Seemed to think he could stroll into Archonholm and demand an audience with the Archon himself, no less.’ The guard’s wrinkly face appeared at the gap in his door. ‘On your feet, lad. Need to check you’re not dying of the plague or starvation. Can’t have you dropping dead before your trial, can we, eh.’ Toryn did as instructed. The guard motioned. ‘Now if you could come towards the light so I can see your face, that would do nicely.’ The guard turned to his colleague. ‘Need to see if there’s any black spots or the like. Been years since I’ve seen a case, but you can never be too safe. Here, you take a peek. Your eyes are probably better than mine.’
Another face appeared. ‘Toryn! By the Three. How did you end up here?’
Toryn gripped the bars. ‘Elrik! Good to see you.’ His shoulders dropped, suddenly ashamed by his predicament.
‘And look at you. You must have grown a foot since—’
‘Do you know this one?’ The old guard peered back through the gap, then back to Elrik. ‘Best you don’t admit it, lad. It won’t do you any good if they know you’re a friend of a trespasser.’ He looked down the passageway. ‘But don’t you worry. They won’t hear it from me. I’ll finish the round and let you catch up. He don’t look like a spy to me.’ He turned and ambled to the next cell, repeating his instructions for the inspection.
Elrik reappeared. He whispered. ‘What happened? There was a right proper commotion when you didn’t show up that morning in the square. And Hamar? Did he go with you? Drakelow sent out a search party, but—’
‘Hamar’s dead.’ Toryn leaned his head against the bars. ‘I was with him.’
Elrik gasped. ‘Hamar? Dead?’
‘He was killed at Drunsberg.’
‘You were at the mines? How did you—?’
Toryn sighed. ‘If I was to say it’s a long story, do you have time?’
‘Try me. I’m assigned for the week. All recruits have to do time here.’
Toryn held his gaze. ‘It’s to do with my father… not Andryn, he’s not my real—’
‘What!’ Elrik checked the corridor and lower his voice. ‘Then who is?’
‘A wyke.’
Elrik backed away. ‘No. No… that can’t be right.’
‘Apparently so. That’s why Hamar reckoned I shouldn’t come to Archonholm. But here I am, and I don’t know how I’m—’
‘Time’s up.’ The guard returned. ‘There’s only three in these cells. Now for the dangerous ones. Come along, young fellow, plenty to learn so keep up.’
Elrik stuck his head back through the gap. ‘We’ll speak tomorrow. Perhaps they might let me do the rounds on my own. It’s not exactly a difficult job, eh.’ Then he was gone.
Toryn turned and slid down the cell door. Elrik already had the look of an Archonian Guard, yet here he sat covered in grime, smelling like a stable, awaiting trial. While Elrik would be defending the realms, he would, in all likelihood, be peeling potatoes or shoveling dung. He stood and shuffled to his bed of hay in the corner. He collapsed and lay looking up to the ceiling, and not for the first time, regretted leaving Midwyche.
Something scratched at the wall to his left. Toryn shifted away. Rodents? The last thing he needed was a hungry rat for company, but as hard as he squinted, he could see nothing. But the scratching continued, turning into a tap, tap, tap. Toryn crawled to the source of the sound in the corner of his cell. He ran his fingers along the floor and found powder. A small section of the wall, no bigger than his fist, moved. The tapping grew louder. Toryn dug his fingers around the stone and pulled it free. A voice on the other side of the wall greeted him. ‘Can you hear me?’
Toryn crouched and replied. ‘Yes.’ He peered through the small hole. ‘Who are you?’
The voice croaked. ‘Oh no, you go first. How do I know you’re not one of the Castellan’s men?’
‘But why would the Castellan—?’
‘He has his ways.’ The man coughed hard, blowing dust into Toryn’s face. ‘I could find myself dragged out of here and thrown off the bridge in no time if I say the wrong thing.’
Toryn squinted through the gap but could see nothing of his fellow prisoner. ‘But what can I say to convince you? And’ — Toryn thought for a moment — ‘wait. How do I know you’re not one of his men?’ Silence. ‘Well?’
‘You make a good point there, young man. Never been asked that before.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘Fine. We’ll have to trust each other. But perhaps let’s keep our names to ourselves, eh. That will be safer.’
Toryn lay back on the floor. ‘But we know each other’s cells. You don’t need to know my name to report me to the Castellan… if you’re one of his men.’
‘Ah! A clever one, I see. Ha! I’m convinced now. You’re too clever to be working for that little turd of a man. I’ll trust you, if you’ll trust me.’
Toryn smiled in the dark. ‘But I still need to know if I can. So, answer me this… are you too clever to be one of the Castellan’s men?’
The man thought for a moment. ‘Err… well yes.’
Toryn laughed, wondering how often the sound of a prisoner’s mirth echoed down the long corridors. ‘That’s good enough for me. And I suppose if you were a spy, you wouldn’t call your boss a little turd.’ Toryn sensed his new friend’s grin through the small gap. He peered through. ‘Good. That’s settled. So how long have you been here?’
The voice mumbled; Toryn heard him counting. ‘Six months? Or is it a year? I can’t remember which of these markings are mine.’
‘Markings?’
His voice rose. ‘Days you fool!’ He returned to his croaking whisper. ‘Sorry, it’s been a long time since I’ve had company.’
Toryn muttered to himself. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve had company that talks sense.’
‘What you say?’
‘Doesn’t matter. What about the markings?’
‘Every time they bring breakfast, or what they call breakfast in here, I scratch a mark on the stone. Then I know… but I’ve forgotten where I started.’ Toryn glanced to the wall above the hole to see such marks on his side. His heart sank. Would he be adding many more of his own?
He turned back to the gap, convinced the man did not work for the Castellan. ‘I’m Toryn, Toryn of Midwyche in Darrow, ward of Harlyn.’
‘Never heard of it. Midwyche, not Darrow or Harlyn, of course. I’m clever remember, not stupid.’
Toryn smirked. ‘Yes, you are. And you?’
‘Dravic of somewhere you’ve never heard of either. Anyway, it’s a small village in Amman, ward of Galabrant.’
‘I’ve never met anyone from Galabrant. Well, not as far as I know.’
A grubby finger poked through the gap and wiggled. ‘Then pleased to meet you… sorry, I’ve forgotten already.’
‘Toryn.’ He wrapped his finger around Dravic’s and shook it as best he could.
‘Then pleased to meet you also, Toryn of…?’
‘Midwyche.’ Toryn let go. ‘What did you do to warrant becoming a guest of the Archon?’
‘Oh no, you’re supposed to go first.’
‘But I thought…?’ Toryn sighed. ‘Trespassing. I was a long way from home without a reason.’
‘Ha! It’ll be the shit shovel for you then, lad.’
Toryn shrugged. ‘Just like home.’ Had he journeyed the length of the Five Realms only to end up with a shovel in his hand? The only difference in Archonholm being his family did not own the horses depositing the dung.
‘Nah, never you mind, there’s worse places to be, and you’ll soon get used to the smell... so they say. And those horses… fine animals. Much better company than most here in Archonholm.’
Toryn laughed. ‘Do you ride?’
‘No, never had chance.’
Toryn warmed to Dravic. ‘I used to ride on our farm. There’s nothing like being on the back of a horse galloping across a field.’ He closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever ride again.’ He turned back to the gap. ‘So, what about you? Why are you here?’
‘Now that I don’t rightly know for sure.’
‘What? You’ve been here for maybe a year, and you don’t know why?’
Dravic exhaled. ‘That’s the very truth. One day I was working on the Archon’s new tower at the gate, the next, me and my fellow builders found ourselves down here in this hole.’
Toryn pushed up onto his elbow. ‘The Caerwal Tower? You worked on the tower?’
‘Up until we’d reached the top of the gate. Then one day, the Castellan and four armed guards turned up, dragged us from our beds and now here we are.’
Toryn’s heart pounded in his ears. ‘Did you look over the top?’
‘Couldn’t. Only allowed to work at night once we got that high. And when you have all those torches in your face, you can’t see a thing beyond them.’
‘But could you hear anything?’
‘Nothing. Just our trowels scraping and our hammers tapping. We were told not to speak under pain of death. But they didn’t have to tell us. Never felt more exposed I can tell you. Must have made quite a target with our torches flickering at the top of the gate. We had these thick blankets up on poles, but still, we must have been visible from the other end of the pass.’
‘I was told the Archon has spied the enemy gathering for an attack. You finished it then.’
‘It was, and he did. But then the enemy slung something over the top and hit the tower.’
‘I heard. Has it been destroyed?’
‘Of course not! We built it to last, lad. As far as the warden knows, only the roof and top floor have collapsed. I was hoping we’d be released to repair it, but as you can tell, me and the other lads are still here. Or so I believe. We’re all in different cells.’
‘It’s not been rebuilt?’
‘Not as far as I know. I suppose it’s done its job and let the Archon look over the gate. And if repaired, then it serves only as another target, don’t it.’ He sighed. ‘Shame. It took us nigh on three years to build the darn thing. Sad to think she might be standing there all proud but with her top missing. Mind you, from the conversations we hear between the wardens, I reckon the Archon is preparing a little surprise for the swine should they break through our gate.’
Toryn’s heart quickened. ‘Surprise? More defenses?’
‘And not one to be sniffed at. When I was still working, we’d see dozens of carts bringing in large barrels, day after day. And I tell you this, I’ve never seen folk handle them with so much care.’
‘Barrels of what?’
‘Couldn’t say. But they were taken up to the new parapets, so must be some sort of ammunition for them heavy weapons. I overheard a prison warden tell of his son being recruited to work on something going on in that pass.’ Dravic laughed. ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if like me, his lad ends up in here after he’s finished the work. I’d like to see his face when he opens a cell and sees his own flesh and blood. Now that would—’ The gate clinked at the end of their corridor. Dravic drew a sharp breath. ‘Quick, put your stone back. They’ll be trouble if they find out we’ve been talking. Not supposed to talk—’ Dravic sealed the gap on his side.
Toryn fumbled for the brick as the footsteps approached. He placed it back, brushed away the dust, and leaned against the wall to conceal the damage. A warden approached. A face appeared in Toryn’s window. He checked the cell and grinned. ‘Time for bed, lad. Sleep tight, don’t let the bugs bite.’ The warden chuckled to himself and moved to Dravic’s cell, repeating the same phrase at each door along the corridor. Toryn looked to the so-called bed, then his bucket, and wondered how many others had done time in his cell.
6. OF SWORDS OF POWER
Elodi waited for the last of her captains to leave the room. Wendel stooped and peered at the map. ‘If Dohl did return to Dorlgoth, where could he have led—?’
‘Tell me about my mother’s sword. What do you know of the weapon, Wendel?’
He turned. ‘I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am?’
Elodi held his eye. ‘Oh, I think you do. You know it’s no ordinary blade. You must be aware of its power?’
‘It’s not exactly…’ He gestured to the chair. ‘May I?’
She waved her hand. ‘Of course! Why do you insist on asking for my permission every time you want to sit down? By the Three, Wendel, I have enough to occupy my mind without having to issue a decree for the correct use of seats around this place. Just sit when you…’ her shoulders sagged. Elodi took his hand. ‘I’m so sorry. Please, be my guest. And never feel you have to ask ever again.’ She slumped beside him. ‘It’s been a difficult few days… weeks… months. And the death of those poor, young guards at Dorlgoth was just tragic.’ Her eyes closed. ‘Such a horrible way to die. To be torn apart by those vile creatures, after all they’d endured for me.’ She took a deep breath and looked to Wendel. ‘May I start again?’
He smiled. ‘I understand, ma’am. That’s partly why I’m here. I don’t just advise. I’m here for the things you cannot say to others.’ He leaned forward and clasped his hands. ‘About your sword, your mother’s sword. It’s not…’ he rubbed his chin, ‘it’s not the sword, ma’am, not entirely.’
‘Not the… what do you mean? Please get to the point.’
Wendel ran a finger across the table. ‘Let me back up a little. Have you opened the trunk yet?’
Elodi frowned. ‘Trunk? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.’
‘The trunk returned from Archonholm. The one with your father’s belongings.’
Her hand went to her face. ‘Oh my! I had completely forgotten. I’ve had so little time to think these last weeks. It must be sitting in the corner of my room.’
‘That’s perfectly understandable, ma’am. But if I know your father, if he was… thrown from that bridge by those wishing him ill, I’m certain he will have known he was in danger beforehand. And therefore, I suspect he will have made plans to send you word of… let us say, among other things, something I’m sure he had planned to tell you before he died.’
‘What in the name of the Three are you talking about, Wendel?’
‘It’s not for me to say anything yet. But as your advisor, I would advise you to examine the contents of that trunk before I say anything more on the matter.’
Elodi eyed him. ‘Does this have something to do with what you were going to tell me on the night of the siege? Do you remember? Just before I rode out, you said you had something important to tell me.’
Wendel fidgeted. ‘Ah, yes, ma’am, it does.’
‘I thought your explanation the following day sounded a little, shall we say, unlike anything that would pass your lips.’
He rubbed his hands together. ‘I didn’t think you were convinced. But you really should open that trunk.’ Her advisor grimaced. ‘And…’
‘Yes, Wendel?’
‘There’s the matter of your age, ma’am. I don’t need to remind you that you’ll be twenty-five this coming winter. And that means we—'
‘Forget it, Wendel. I have not the time... or the inclination.’
‘But, ma’am, it’s the tradition. Harlyn will be needing an heir before long. We cannot risk—'
‘We…? I cannot risk outgrowing my armor, or breaking Sea Mist’s back at the very time I’m needed most.’ Elodi prodded the table. ‘You can forget the heir for the time being.’ She looked to the window. ‘And the last thing I want to do is leave any future child of mine without a mother. There’s more to fear than the Winter Fever this time around.’
Wendel rose from his chair and stretched. ‘You’re right, ma’am. It was wrong of me to bring up the subject. We are in unprecedented times, well, at least in living memory. Securing the future of the city and the realm is paramount.’ He rested his hands on the back of his chair. ‘There’s no benefit to having an heir if there’s no realm to govern.’
Elodi’s eyes dropped to her hands folded on her lap. ‘Does it sound odd that I’m more daunted at the thought of finding a husband and producing an heir, than I am of facing the foe?’
Wendel chuckled. ‘No, ma’am, not from your lips. And it has to be said, it would have to be quite a man to win your heart, if such a man even lives in the Five Realms.’ He yawned. ‘Apologies, ma’am. I must be off to my bed. And as for you, may I remind you your father’s trunk awaits.’
◆◆◆
Elodi’s hand rested on the trunk. If Wendel was correct, what great secret of her father’s lay inside? Why was Wendel, usually not afraid to speak his mind, reluctant to speak on this occasion? She placed the candle on the table at her side and opened the lid. Elodi kneeled. Whoever had packed her father’s belongings had taken care to neatly fold his clothes, and for that she was grateful. Elodi carefully took out a shirt she recalled seeing him wear many times. She lifted it to her nose and breathed in her father. She buried her face in the soft cloth and let the tears flow. Elodi needed him now, and not only because of the danger facing the realm. She wanted him to stand before her, take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay as he had done when she was a child. Elodi sobbed, soaking the shirt with her grief. The anger at the injustice of his untimely death rose. He did not deserve such a tragic end; to be pushed off a bridge by a coward not willing to look him in the eye.
