My hands were finding rocks not so polished now and with that came more confidence. Every once in a while I allowed myself to look up to the open portal from which the only source of light came. I was getting close, but I’d have to be a spider in order to walk across the ceiling to get to the opening in the floor above.
In the span of a few more minutes I was faced with that very problem. I’d reached the top and I hung there, completely drenched in sweat, as I debated about what to do next.
There was only one thing I could do. I’d have to jump for it.
Slowly I began to turn from hugging the rocky side of the dungeon wall to facing the portal that lay in the floor above. It was at least 8 feet away. If I missed, I’d go plummeting back into the depths and the murderous throng would be on me in seconds, but I was out of options. There was only one path and that was forward.
My leg muscles bunched tight and I sprang outward over the abyss as I let all my nerved up tension loose. One hand slipped off the frame of the trapdoor, but my other caught the side lip of the dungeon portal.
I lifted up at the elbow and got my other hand on the portal ledge and then, to the tune of a collective groan from below, I pulled myself up and out of the dungeon. I lay gasping for air on the floor, grateful that there were no guards present. I could hear voices though.
I’d gotten this far, now what?
I needed a distraction if I was to get out of the palace. With a grin I kicked my foot out and a pile of rope laying near the portal fell into the darkness of the dungeon. There were exclamations from those below and then the rope grew taunt as the dungeon dwellers began to climb free of their prison.
I got shakily to my feet and looked for a suitable place to hide. As I went along the corridor I couldn’t but debate with myself as to what the difference was between that of a Lion Man and that of the cannibalistic dungeon dwellers coming up the rope behind me. They were both the creation of dark actions.
Just who were the good guys anymore?
I ducked into a room and closed the door and barred it. The single lantern within the room revealed that I had struck it rich. I was in an armory.
Quickly I went to the sword racks. Although the swords were roughly made and without much beauty or finesse they were nevertheless fully functional. I grabbed one up, but then put it aside as another idea took hold.
I stripped off my torn clothes and donned the clothes and leather armor of a soldier, complete with helmet. I sorted through some knives and took a few. A war ax struck my fancy and I slipped it into my belt along with some knives. I took up my sword and then grabbed another.
From the sounds of it, all pandemonium was breaking loose outside. I opened the door and began pushing my way through the press of soldiers as if I was one of them.
*****
The freedom of my dungeon companions was short-lived as they were hacked down by panicked guards terror-stricken at the thought of being fed upon. At least in death they were now free from the living torment that had taken over their lives. I could only wonder as to how many of them had been as innocent as I had of any wrongdoing.
I was among the press of court officials that was spilling out onto the street. Nothing like the threat of cannibals on the loose to clear a building. I saw the Prince striding about angrily, calling out orders, and I had to fight against the capricious urge to slip up next to him and bury a dagger in deeply.
He no doubt deserved it, but today was not the day.
I found myself in the palace stable yard quite by accident. It wasn’t in me to be a thief and steal another man’s horse, so I did the only thing I felt comfortable to do.
I strode up to what appeared to be the chief attendant of the stables and barked out, “The Prince requires his horse! Now!”
The stable master fidgeted nervously, as he split his attention between me and the general hubbub taking place in the palace, “Which one?” he asked distractedly.
“The red one,” I said on a hunch.
“But it’s not been properly broke in yet!”
“Bring it now man!” I yelled out forcefully.
The stable master ran off and I waited impatiently for his return. He came back moments later with a beautiful red stallion that pawed aggressively at the ground. Now this was a horse!
Of all the people in this kingdom, the Prince owed me the most and I was willing to call us even, for the most part, in exchange for this horse. I slid into the saddle, chuckling to myself as to how angry the Prince would be when he found out about this.
The Prince would be wise to be grateful that he was still alive, but I doubted that he would be. His kind carried a grudge to the end. With this act I’d made an enemy today.
The stallion did a hop, skip, step in preparation to buck, but I had no time for that. I spurred him out of the stable lot and into the hustle and bustle of the city. I had no wish to ever return here and I doubted that I would be made welcome anyway.
I stopped at a merchant’s business and I traded my second sword for a purplish traveling cloak and some provisions and then I was off again. The stallion seemed as eager as I was to be free of the city. I named him Urgallon on the spot.
I’d had a pig named that as a boy and the horse beneath me reminded me of him. It was a strange name I had to admit, but it was a familiar one and it came from back in my early childhood, when things really hadn’t needed to make much sense.
Chapter Nine
Man of Respect
I made it to the edge of the city when my conscience couldn’t take it anymore. Skewed reasoning aside, I was essentially stealing this horse. I wasn’t a horse thief. My real father no doubt had been, but I was not.
I dismounted in a deserted street and slapped the stallion’s rump hard. It took off with a snort for the inner-city, no doubt already missing its royal oats.
“So long Urgallon. It was a short ride.”
I turned away and made my way back out onto a populated avenue. One of the city gates was ahead and I instantly noticed the heightened security. I kept one handle on my sword beneath the cloak, as I slipped into the pressed throng of a passing caravan.
I kept my head up, as I relied on the stolen helmet to shield my features from view. Yes, it was quite ironic. Too noble to steal a horse, but apparel and weaponry were free game. What could I say, other than I wasn’t as bothered by the latter as I had been by the former. It didn’t make much sense, but that was the way of it.
“Has anyone seen the Prince’s horse?” called out a soldier on horseback near the gate.
I felt relief wash over me. It had been wise to listen to my conscience. It paid to do the right thing and this was a great example of that and I marked it well.
I was abreast of the gate when a voice rang out, “Hey you! What’s your business?”
Instinctively I knew they were referring to me and my hands started to pull my sword free from under the cloak, when all action was arrested by a feminine voice that spoke confidently and with authority, “Why, he’s one of my guards. Move on and pay no attention to these paranoid Thyanians.”
“Hey, watch what you say Lancossian Mistress or we’ll impound your goods and you can return home devoid of wealth!”
“Impound my wealth! What wealth is there to be found trading with you Thyanians? You talk more than you’re willing to trade and you have even less worth talking about. I practically operate at a loss as it is to even come here!”
“Enough! Get on with you!” The gate guardsman said, with an angry gesture towards the open country beyond the city wall.
The caravan continued on past the gate and I slowly turned my head to regard the woman riding the camel behind me. She was watching me cattily and I sensed trouble. Trouble or not, she had saved me a bunch of it, but what did she require in return?
Her eyes turned merry and it seemed as she spoke that she was able to read minds along with lying convincingly, “I always have need of an extra sword hand to ensure the safety of my carava
n’s travel. Not to mention the joy I receive having pulled one over on a Thyanian. Tell me, what is it you did to bring the paranoid lot of them down upon you so hard?”
“I refused to honor a Prince's command.”
She whistled softly in a very unladylike fashion. She was an attractive woman, but easily 20 years my senior. She looked me over thoroughly as she drew abreast of me on her camel. “Safe passage in return for safety. Is it a deal?”
“Deal,” I said, having to give it little thought.
She smiled smugly and I immediately regretted the hastiness of agreeing to the assignment of being a caravan guard. My benefactor looked ahead and gestured to me as she said, “Bruton, see that the young man has a tent allotted to him when we camp.”
“Yes, my Mistress Siryian,” said a man of black skin color that would’ve easily made three of me.
The man was far from fat though. Quite simply, he was the strongest looking man I’d ever encountered. The camel he rode on was larger than the rest and for good reason.
Bruton gestured to me and then to the rear of the caravan and the meaning was clear. He wanted me to fall back to the rear of the column and join the rearguard.
Obediently I did as commanded. All along the way there I couldn’t help but think I had just signed by life away. If we were attacked I would most likely be the first to go, positioned at the rear of the caravan. Such was the price of freedom.
I reached the rear of the caravan and joined the ranks of the rearguard. It was readily apparent that I might find my death by way of choking on dust before the blade of an enemy.
“What did you do to get put back here?” asked one of my fellow guardsman disinterestedly, as he made a pass with the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the sweaty grime off his face.
“I’m not quite sure.”
“Well, you’re here now. Welcome to the south end of a camel. The name's Thanuel and this is Jarken.” Thanuel finished by gesturing to a short but powerfully built man, who was also sweating profusely from the heat of the day and the exertion of walking.
Jarken gave me a congenial enough word of welcome and I attempted to do the same, but found myself hacking on the dust. “Pleased to meet you,” I said hoarsely after a moment.
“The pleasure is all mine,” the man said formally and then both he and Thanuel laughed uproariously.
Thanuel asked after a moment, “Where’d you learn to talk all proper like that?”
I shrugged, “I guess some of the mannerisms of my teacher of the past few years have rubbed off on me.”
“And who would that be, young man?” Jarken asked.
“He was called Kurios, but I called him Kuri. I’m not aware of him having a last name.”
Jarken and Thanuel shared a meaningful glance with each other before Jarken said as an aside, “The first name's enough. If I was you I’d keep it to yourself as to who your teacher was.”
“Aye, I’d do as he says,” Thanuel said, glancing around to see if we’d been overheard by the other men around us.
“Why?” I asked, but both men would say no more.
I walked on in the dust pondering as to what their hints could mean. Kuri apparently had a reputation within the seven kingdoms. If they only knew. The problem was that they should know, yet it seemed that, if anything, Kuri was regarded by some as a nuisance instead of what he was, the King.
Thanuel was handing a rag to me and gesturing at my face. I took it and tied it across the lower half of my face. It helped with the dust, but not the heat. My new job was thoroughly miserable, but at least I wasn’t on the menu.
*****
The water wasn’t cold, but at least it had a cooling effect, if only for the moment. I stopped splashing my face with it and instead I rubbed at my eyes. They still felt gritty, but I had to have gotten all the sand and dust washed out of them by now.
Of all the occupations on Ayenathurim this had to be the worst. I put it just a step above slavery, but just barely.
A shadow fell across me and I looked up to see my benefactor standing there. Her eyes roamed over my bare torso staying the longest upon the scars that ran across my chest.
Her eyes rose to mine and I could see curiosity reflected within the depths of her green eyes. I saw lust as well. I felt the need to put my shirt on, but I stayed as I was.
“You look as if you have quite the story to tell,” she said softly, as her eyes fell back down to the scars.
I said nothing. Her eyes rose to mine, curiosity seemed to vanish from them as it was replaced with magnetic sensuality. Now I felt the need to run away, but I stayed still.
She shook her head slowly, “My, you are a shy one. I could help you with that. My tent is right over there.” She pointed to the largest tent that lay beneath the tree fronds of the oasis.
“If you should choose to drop by, perhaps you can tell me how you came about those scars,” she said and then turned away and moved off toward her tent.
I swallowed with the relief of not having her green eyes on me. It was hard to look away from her retreating form, but I made myself do it. She was older, but still extremely desirable.
Desirable or not, I felt nothing but distrust for her. She struck me as the type that used others for her own purposes and desires, in order to fulfill her need for control.
I knew all that and more about this strange woman and yet some part of me ached to even now be lifting the flap of her tent and joining her inside. It made no sense!
She was nothing but a path to destruction. What was wrong with me; that any part of me still longed for what she offered?
I had to be better than my weakest parts though and looking upward I said, “El Elyon, I’m sorry. I know better and yet you know how close I am to going over there. Please help me.”
I put my shirt on before I weakened any further and then I hurried out of the trees and into the surrounding desert, upon which the shadows of night had already begun to fall.
*****
Jarken looked over to Thanuel, who was lying back against a boulder. They had been silent witnesses to the whole scene.
Thanuel looked thoughtful as he watched Benaiah disappear into the dunes, “Rare man.”
Jarken nodded sharply and then asked, “You think he’s the one?”
Thanuel shook his head looking undecided, “Perhaps. Time will tell. Not such a boring trip after all, hey?”
Jarken looked thoughtfully out at the surrounding desert scape, upon which night was fast approaching and asked, “Do you think we should alert the caravan to the presence of bandits out there?”
Thanuel shook his head, “No, let Benaiah do it. We’ve had our glory in the sun. Time to help a rising star reach the zenith of his potential.”
Jarken nodded resolutely and said pragmatically, “He’s the one. I feel it.”
“I hope you’re right my friend. El Elyon knows we’re not getting any younger,” Thanuel said, still thoughtfully gazing after Benaiah.
*****
I stared out across the scene of sand and moonlight. Here in the borderlands of the Kingdomer Nation of Lancandia it was sand and sun. There was beauty to be found, but I preferred the sight of green grass and cool breezes. The nights were at least cool here. The cold air was a relief on my impassioned senses.
I looked up. The sky was bright and every star seemed to stand out in stark relief against the black backdrop of the sky. It was an awe-inspiring moment of quiet reflection.
I felt small. The created universe was so huge and here I was stressing about the completion of one assignment. An assignment that I had already been told wouldn’t be accomplished for several years. What was I going to do in the meantime?
I looked back to the oasis and the temptation that beckoned there. If El Elyon had done all that I saw in the sky above, then He could help strengthen me in my weaknesses to do something that surely wasn’t as major of an event as things that He’d already performed in creation’s past.
Movement caught my eye
and my head swiveled from its view of the oasis to the fast approaching rider coming towards me with a lowered lance. Alarmed, my mind seized up for a second.
No doubt the rider expected me to run and so I did, only I ran toward him instead of the other way. My actions seemed to jar the rider’s confidence and in the dim light I saw the rider’s head move side to side in search of what was giving me the confidence to attack instead of run.
I added to the unrest by waving my arms up and down and screaming out a nonsensical garble of sounds. His horse wanted no part of it and started to stutter out of its headlong gallop and turn off to the side.
The rider regained control, but in the moment of lost concentration the lance point dipped out of the way slightly and I seized on the opportunity and stepped off to the side and jerked it hard. The rider came along with the lance.
The rider had only just begun to rise up out of the dust when I crashed a rock down on his head. There were more riders coming and I wasted no time, but vaulted up into the saddle of the fallen bandit's horse and turned tail for the oasis.
I did my best to give out a warning, but something about a rider coming full tilt down a sand dune closely followed by a half-dozen others had a way of galvanizing a restful camp into action more than words alone. I saw guards and camel riders grab for weapons and arrows were soon whistling by my head in the direction of my pursuers.
I streamed into the trees and pulled the horse up sharply. Looking back I saw three pursuers were down and that the other three were retreating. There were shouts of triumph to be heard throughout the oasis. It only lasted for a moment though.
All laughter abruptly died at the sight of about 200 moon outlined forms against the horizon. The caravan only had 45 people in total and only 30 of them were trained fighters. I heard Bruton calling out commandingly and before I could believe it over half of the caravan’s camels were saddled with cargo and moving out of the oasis at a fast clip.
What were they doing?
Almost half of the caravan’s cargo still lay upon the sand of the oasis, unloaded. I saw my benefactor on a fast looking horse up by the caravan’s master and it was suddenly obvious to me what their plan of action was. She was sacrificing the guards, who had no means of escape other than their feet, along with what looked to be the less expensive items of cargo, on the wild chance that it would give her the time needed to escape with at least half the caravan’s cargo intact.