Betrayal at Goliath Gate, page 15
part #2 of Arcane Renaissance Series
“Much better,” it said. Even though there were no lips to move, still sound came from it.
Buckley released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. “Is this why we came?”
Narael held up one long white skeletal finger. “No. Come with me,” he said, pausing to pull a long white robe fringed with deep red from a recess in the wall, which he put on. Then he strode off, past Buckley, into the dark hallway beyond. The creature was moving faster than the dim wall lights could keep up. Buckley was forced to jog lest he lose him in the dark.
They went through a door and up another stair, continuing on. The inside of this mountain hollow was like a labyrinth. They kept on, turning, twisting, up stairs, through doors, until they came to another great open room. Here, against a wall, Narael seemed to touch a great many things. Then the wall itself opened, producing a cavity the size of a large chest. Inside were rows of ancient veil power spheres.
Buckley gasped.
Narael picked one up, inspecting it. “Ah... still at eighty percent. This will be satisfactory.” He held it in one hand as the center of his sculpted white body opened at the navel. Narael placed the sphere inside the cavity. His body instantly lit up. It was is if it were emitting light of its own but it wasn't. Buckley realized that all the wall lights had come on around them.
“Much better,” Narael said, sounding pleased. He reached down and took another of the spheres, then made a motion that caused the container to recede once again into the wall. “I've one more duty to complete here, then we can go.”
“What is this place?” Buckley asked.
“This is my uri ekallim. It has only one purpose,” Narael said as his smooth robed form walked the two of them into yet another hall.
Now with full lighting, Buckley could see the pure white walls and the many frescoes that adorned them. They were images of death, all of them.
“What purpose is that?” Buckley asked.
“Revenge.”
* * *
There was a great cracking sound accompanied by the chinking of thick metal. It was immediately followed by the sensation of being lifted very quickly. The feeling churned Aaron's stomach. He only wished he could see. His mother-in-law and her damned sorcery.
A hand touched his shoulder.
“It's alright, we're being lifted by a goliath,” Greta's voice said. She sounded pained.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“She's fine,” the baroness said. So she was here as well. It made sense. Likely the cage itself bore some veil contraption designed to prevent her from using magic.
“What's happening? Are we being taken somewhere?” Aaron asked.
“They have a goliath carrying us to the river. We're to be put on a barge to Valendam,” Greta replied.
“None of this would have happened if you hadn't given up Marian,” the baroness said.
“I had no choice,” Aaron said. “I don't believe in sacrificing our own people for a momentary advantage.”
The baroness sighed but did not respond.
“Well... I appreciate it,” Greta said. The cage creaked as her hand touched his forearm before he felt her lips on his cheek.
“Oh... You're welcome,” he said.
“You're a fool. Now Marcus is stuck down there...” She must have seen his face tighten because she paused. “Did something happen?”
“I didn't really have a chance to mention it while they were jamming us into this cage...” Aaron replied.
“Out with it... and where's the boy, wasn't he with you?”
Aaron grit his teeth. This was not good news. “The boy is gone... Mia took him.”
“Damn that girl. I knew it,” the baroness said. “That... that can be dealt with. What about Marcus, Aaron? Why were you in the garden?”
Aaron, hesitated. She would not take this well. He knew it.
“Tell me!”
A hand touched his arm, the same as before. Greta was giving him support. He sighed.
“Liam came down. I don't know how he came to be there. I was playing blocks with Adem and I heard him. He saw something down there that made him very upset...” Aaron paused. Trying to decide how to ask.
“What?” the baroness asked him.
“Was... Was Marcus in some sort of cocoon?”
“He was being healed. He ought to be done by now!” the baroness replied. There was the sound of rustling fabric and the cage shook. Two hands gripped his shirt, pulling Aaron forward, shaking him. “Aaron! What happened?!”
“Get away from him!” Greta said but the grip did not loosen.
“Liam set a fire,” Aaron said. “I heard it, smelled it... He led us outside and just left us there, the boy and I, alone in the garden.”
“What?”
The grip loosened, released. The baroness made a noise, somewhere between a moan and a sob.
“I tried to stop him. I... I'm sorry.”
“You idiot! You stupid stupid blind fool!”
Something, he thought perhaps a fist, smashed into his cheek, knocking him back. It was followed by more blows, a flurry of them.
“Stop it!” Greta yelled. This was followed by a struggle.
Aaron did not defend himself. He didn't even raise an arm. In truth he felt like he deserved it. His impotence had again cost those he loved.
“Unhand me! I am a baroness!”
“I will not!” Greta said. “You can't blame Aaron for this. He's blind! Direct your ire at your natural born son!”
Only Liam wasn't there to hit, if she would even do so. Aaron had never seen her lift a finger against the boy, though she was rarely at the castle when Liam had gotten into trouble.
A long series of sobs came from what he presumed was the opposite side of the cage.
“I'm sorry,” Aaron said again.
There was no reply. Not for a long time. Greta took his hand in hers and squeezed it. He thought of Giselle and hoped she was alright. Likely she was in the palace, safe with the king, eating sweets and trying on dresses. He sighed, hoping he'd be able to see her again.
It was a long time before his mother-in-law spoke. A goliath had loaded them onto a barge and, according to Greta, they were being escorted by three armed goliaths and a group of light horse cavalry. The barge itself was being pulled down the river by a Clydesdale, an unarmored goliath made in Ardenton for heavy hauling.
Aaron had been down the river before. He'd visited the construction of the barge track two years ago. He could almost see it in his mind's eye. It made sense that when they arrived in Valendam they would be split up. He had to figure out some way to get them free now, while they were in transit.
“What else is on the barge with us?” Aaron asked Greta, who'd been happy thus far to function as his eyes.
“It looks like half a shipment of steel. There are a few other things behind us as well but I can't see exactly what they are. They've got them covered with a sackcloth. There's some light from within, blue light. Perhaps veil weapons?”
“That's something. If we can get this cage open, we can maybe use those to mount an escape,” Aaron said.
“Don't be an idiot Aaron. We have no way to leave here,” the baroness said.
“What do you mean? Can't you use your... magic?” he hated calling it that.
“No,” she replied.
“The Fulosi did something to the Baroness before she was placed in the cage. They used a contraption of some kind on her. I've never seen anything like it,” Greta said.
“I have,” the older woman said. She sounded defeated.
“What was it?” Aaron asked her.
“I don't know what it's called. Vex used some name, it was... quite a while ago. I've never had the need to use one. It suppresses the connection to the veil. It's not severed forever, just tamped down. It's hard to describe... I can feel it there, but can't touch. Even if I could, this cage was made to do the same.”
“Hmmm,” Aaron said. “So even if we got out of the cage, you can't take us anywhere.”
“Exactly,” the baroness replied.
“Do you know how long it will last?” Aaron asked.
“No,” she said.
Aaron sighed. “There has to be something. We just have to think.”
“No. There isn't,” the baroness replied.
“Why are you so unhelpful?” Greta asked. “Can't you see he's trying?”
The baroness laughed bitterly. “He can try all he wants. It's a waste. Decades of work, lost. Why bother if no one values anything I accomplish?”
“What are you talking about? Everyone who lived in Aeyrdfeld under the Haletts loved it. I can't tell you how many times we'd patrol the frontier and be stopped in some tiny village and given a hen or a loaf of bread to give to the baron and his family. People here love you, both of you,” Greta said. “I don't care if you are a witch in the service of the dark one. You've done so much good for these people. I left the service of the Ganex Emperor to join Marcus Halett because I believed in this place. I still do.”
“It's all gone now. Marcus...” the baroness sobbed. “I'm so sorry.”
Aaron shook his head, thinking. There had to be something. Some way. “It's too bad Harald isn't here,” he said.
“What?” Greta asked.
“Oh you... probably wouldn't know. He's a... friend. I suppose,” Aaron said.
“What did you say?” the baroness asked.
“I said-”
“Harald! Of course!” There was a noise of rustling fabric.
“Didn't they take your knives?” Greta asked.
“They did, but they left the rest, including my bag of stones,” the baroness replied.
“Stones? What you going to do, toss a rock at the guards?” Greta asked.
“I'd assume they're more than that,” Aaron said.
There was a sound like a purse of gems being opened and rummaged through. Lots of clicks and clacks, followed by a frustrated grunt.
“What's wrong?” Greta asked.
“They're all drained. This damned cage. Worse... I was sure I'd put Vex's stone in the bag, but it's missing.”
“Perhaps you left it in the basket,” Aaron suggested.
“Hmmm. Where did you leave that?” the baroness asked.
“In the entry room,” Aaron replied. In his minds eye he could see just where he'd placed it. Right behind the chair, likely still filled to the brim with the tiny bones of Vex's acolytes.
“What are you talking about? Who is Vex?” Greta asked.
“It's a long story,” Aaron replied.
The baroness sighed. “We truly are lost.”
“At this rate it'll take at least five days to get to Valendam, so it seems we've ample time for stories,” Greta said.
Aaron nodded. “True.”
Chapter 11
"The Willenders will never tire of war. It's their business. Just like ours is the sea."
- Lucidio Filipe Mendes Carneiro Count of Laportal, 1603
“This has been extraordinarily easy,” Robert said as he pulled back the curtains that hid the servants passage they'd used to travel up to the royal residence rooms. “I don't like it.”
“You complain when things are easy as well?” Thira said with a sneer.
There were only two corridors more before they'd arrive at the entrance to the royal quarters and Thira's chair where she'd slept away most of every day.
“You don't find it a bit odd that there haven't been royal guards posted in any of the halls we've passed? Didn't there used to be?” Robert asked.
“Yes,” she replied. Thira had to admit it felt wrong for the guard to be so lax. Had they perhaps moved him already?
“We'll be careful,” she said. “Try not to knock anything over.”
Robert bristled, wagging a finger in her face. “That was not my fault! Who stacks chamber pots like that? Right near a door! It was bound to happen to someone.”
“Didn't happen to me,” she replied. They'd been lucky in the servants quarters. She'd found a maid's frock that could accommodate her height and dimensions, though not a very flattering one, and Robert's little clattering accident hadn't roused any servants enough to bring them out of their rooms. Nor had they seen any. The more she thought about it, the more unusual it seemed, it was as if someone had purposely cleared the royal residence wing of the palace. Robert could be right but that didn't mean that Thira would abandon her mission.
“Do you hear anyone?”
“Be quiet,” she replied. There weren't any kings guard in evidence but someone was around. Somewhere up ahead she could hear the sound of breathing, the kind made by soldiers wearing heavy chest plates that moved as their chests drew in breath causing the metal to move and clink ever so slightly. The sounds would be imperceptible for humans at this distance but not her.
Further, there was more of that feeling from before in the king's chamber, almost like a smell but not quite. It had a peppery hotness to it that made all the hairs of her body rise in unison. Though this time the feeling was much stronger.
“There are men ahead. Soldiers, but not kings guard.”
“What do we do?” Robert asked. “If only I had a pistol!”
She answered by pushing him out into the hall.
“Just walk over there,” she instructed, pointing to the opposite end of the hall, away from the sounds of the armored men.
“Whoa! Alright, fine!” Robert protested, hands up as he backed down the hallway just a little too far. He bumped into a pedestal bearing the bust of some dignitary which toppled and shattered on the floor with a loud crash.
Robert's eyes went wide. “This never happens to me at sea, I assure you!”
“Hey!” yelled a man from down the hall. He was flanked by three others. All were clad in expensive shining chest plates of veil infused steel with long sashes striped with yellow.
“They have guns!” Robert said.
“Then you should run,” Thira replied quietly from behind the curtain.
Each man had drawn a long pistol that they were now aiming at Robert who bolted in the opposite direction. Two fired and plaster exploded as pistol balls whirred narrowly by Robert's head, impacting the walls. The others ran after him.
“Stop!” one called after him.
Thira smiled, it was foolish of them to advance. They had no hope of catching an unarmored man. They were allowing their enemy to draw them out. Though they wore the trappings of professional soldiers these men did not act like them.
When three of the four had passed by her hole in the wall she sprung forth upon the last, pouncing on his chest with all her weight as claws from all four of her limbs pried into every open space at the edges of the man's chest plate. The impact drove him into the floor with such force that she was sure he wouldn't get up for some time, if at all. Still, as a matter of course, the hunters instinct perhaps, she dug her claws in below the helmet and wrenched it off, taking the head with it. Blood poured from the ragged mess that had been the man's neck.
At the crashing sound of the impact the three remaining soldiers stopped their pursuit and rounded on her. For the closest of them it was already too late. She wrenched a dagger, a simple straight blade, from the waist belt of her first kill and vaulted forward, driving it up under his chin through the unprotected lower section of his simple sallet helm. Blood cascaded down her wrist as she used her other hand to take hold of him under his arm and fling his well armored corpse at the farthest of his two comrades. The man chose to duck as she hoped he would, preventing himself from bringing his pistol to bear and giving Thira time to take the next steps she needed to close with the third soldier as the body of the second flew through the air, trailing blood like a ribbon as it went, before finally crashing into the wall with a loud clang.
The third soldier had properly braced himself behind a veil bladed rapier. She feinted toward his neck just enough to get the blade moving up and then dropped low, using a quick swipe to tear his legs out from under him. While he was on his back, bewildered and flailing, she grabbed his sword arm with both clawed hands and forced the glowing blue blade up and into his body below the breast plate. He screamed.
The fourth man leveled his pistol. There was nothing Thira could do but charge him. There was a pop as the veil powder ignited and a solid crack as the long barreled pistol discharged. She saw the flash, not the ball, but felt the sting as it nicked her left breast, before passing harmlessly through the back of her loose fitting gown. She almost felt bad for him as she tore him apart. He'd come close to the mark but not close enough.
“Please don't kill me!” Robert begged, holding his palms up. She couldn't tell if he was making light of her or being serious. The man was infuriating.
“Then don't annoy me,” she said, shaking the blood from her claws.
Robert shrugged, bending down to procure several of the enemy's pistols as well as their supplies of powder and shot. Then he methodically began rearming each of them.
“We don't have time for that,” she snapped as she bent over. The veil blades the men carried were all rapiers, nothing she would normally use but she took one just the same. It was better than nothing. As a second thought she also snatched two base steel straight daggers. They weren't even close to those made by her own, but they would do in a pinch.
Twisting as she picked one of them up caused her to wince. A red trail ran down the left side of her maid's frock.
“You should get that looked at,” Robert said.
“It's not as bad as it appears,” she said. “Let's go.”
“One more moment,” Robert replied as he used the ram rod to shove the ball and wadding to the bottom of the barrel on the final appropriated pistol. The man must have some experience. He'd armed three of them in a little over a minute.
“I'd rather not be useless in our next encounter,” he said, noticing her watching him.
“You'll only have three shots.” Pistols were not her favorite weapons. They seemed so random and the reports were so loud. The first time she heard one she'd thought her head would split from the pain of it and that was forgetting the rotten smell of the powder they used. Just thinking about it made her nearly wretch.
