“I’ve found something,” Lorik said. “Come with me.”
“What about breakfast?”
“How can you think of food at a time like this?” Lorik teased.
“You’ve already eaten, haven’t you.”
“Maybe just a little. Now come on, I have something to show you.”
The trip north had been uneventful. Queen Issalyn had left the refugee camp near the Wilderlands the same day that Lorik had gone south. The day had been as gray as she felt; leaving Lorik simply didn’t feel right. She’d been excited when she married King Oveer, but that had been more over the pomp and circumstance than because she loved him. And that marriage certainly hadn’t turned out the way she thought it would. In the end, she felt more like a prisoner than a queen.
For days she and her escort had ridden west, moving swiftly as they circled the southern point of the northern sea which separated the Norsik tribal lands from Baskla. It snowed on the fourth day of their journey, big white flakes that seemed to dance in the air. The snow soon covered the ground and made their journey slower than before. They crossed the border and the softly rolling plains changed into rough, rocky hills full of stunted trees.
The volunteer guard sent one man ahead to find shelter for the night, and just before night fell they were led to a small farm where they took shelter in the barn. The farmer was an older man; his wife was very sick and the barn was nearly empty. Only an old milk cow, some chickens, and a blind horse remained. The volunteers saw to the party’s horses, fourteen in all. Queen Issalyn and her shieldmaidens did their best to make the loft into a warm, comfortable space. A wood stove on the ground level of the barn was the only source of heat. The barn had been skillfully built, but it was decades old and had fallen into disrepair of late. Water dripped from the leaky roof, and cold wind blew through the cracks between the warped planking.
A little warmth could be found from the old metal stove pipe that ran from the wood stove up through the loft and out the roof of the barn. The queen’s maidens huddled around it on a layer of hay that would serve as their bed for the night. Issalyn stood near the window, which was shuttered but the gaps were wide enough to see through. She watched the snow falling until the night became too dark.
Lanterns were lit on the ground level, but due to the risk of fire none were brought up to the hay loft. Soft light shown through the loft’s opening from the main barn level, but so did the smell of animals and manure.
“This is not a fit place for you, my queen,” said one of the maidens, wrapping a blanket around Issalyn’s shoulders.
“It is warm and mostly dry,” Issalyn tried to smile. “It shall do for tonight.”
The truth was that Issalyn didn’t care about spending the night in a filthy barn. Nor did she care that it was cold. Her misery came from being so far from Lorik. She had never met a man like him. He was both humble and kingly at the same time. He genuinely cared about people, from the men he rode with, to the poorest refugee in the camp by the Wilderlands. He was an unstoppable warrior, she was sure of that after seeing him battle the monsters that had attacked them on their flight north. Yet he was kind to her, and her maidens. She remembered the warmth of his touch and shivered. The thought of his soft kisses made her knees tremble.
He was the perfect example of masculine strength, but she was attracted to much more than his hulking appearance. She was drawn to his noble character and sense of duty. At the refugee camp she had heard stories of how he had rescued a group of women and children who had been captured by the Norsik and carried away into their tribal lands. He had fought the raiders and led the captives back through the Wilderlands, only to find a huge army of raiders camped on the Ortisian side of the massive forest. Then, she was told, he fought the raiders single handedly, killing hundreds before a massive green dragon appeared and fought with him.
He not only looked like a hero of old, he was capable of great deeds just like the warriors of legend. Queen Issalyn had no doubt that poets and singers would write great ballads of his mighty feats. And yet, it wasn’t his fame or his accomplishments that she cherished, it was his tender touch and warm embrace.
“Are you okay, my lady?” the servant asked, shaking the queen from her reverie.
“Of course,” Issalyn said. “We should eat and then rest. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”
Dinner was more dried rations. The farmer was existing on cows’ milk and old vegetables. He didn’t have enough to feed the queen’s party and she insisted that he didn’t try. Instead, they chewed salted pork and drank water from the farmer’s well. It wasn’t a satisfying meal, but the party was tired and cold. The women huddled together in the loft, sleeping close to share their body heat. The men slept around the wood stove on the ground floor, their weapons kept at the ready.
The next morning, they found almost a foot of snow on the ground, but Issalyn insisted they push on. To her way of thinking, if Lorik was fighting to give King Ricard’s men time to reach the border, she wasn’t going to let anything keep her from getting them there quickly.
The horses trod slowly through the snow. It was impossible to see the road leading north, buried as it was under the snow. So they traveled where the snow was flat with trees looming up on either side. They rode single file, the volunteers taking turns riding point in an effort to not tire their horses too badly as they trudged through the fresh snow.
Early that afternoon, they came to a village with an inn. The queen had fled without thinking of taking coin, so they settled for a single room for Issalyn and two of her maids. The others camped behind the small inn. It was the first time that had a warm meal in several days, and the first real bed Queen Issalyn had slept in since she left Ort City.
The terrain became more difficult to cross, especially since the snow left everything muddy and slick. The trails were rocky, causing the horses to lose shoes from their dark hooves. The queen’s maidens insisted that she ride, but Queen Issalyn refused and walked her horse along with the others. Early on the tenth day of their journey, they were met by small group of soldiers traveling south. One of the volunteers went forward to introduce Queen Issalyn. The two groups met beside a huge boulder. One of the soldiers, a knight from all appearances, came forward and bowed before the queen.
“My lady, it is an honor to meet you. My name is Josston, son of Lord Ulbaar.”
He was a slender man, close to Issalyn’s own age. He wore his armor, which looked well used and maintained, easily, as if he were accustomed to the weight of it. He had long brown hair which he kept tied back in a loose ponytail and his cheeks and chin were covered with dark stubble that showed spots of gray.
“King Ricard has sent us south to check on the border. Has the witch’s army overrun your lands?”
“You know of the witch’s army?” Queen Issalyn asked in surprise.
“Yes, we’ve heard rumors. I wasn’t in Forxam when the wizard came on his dragon to warn us. These are truly wondrous times we are living in.”
“They are, but perilous as well,” Queen Issalyn said. “Ort City was overrun by horrible flying monsters. I’m afraid most of Ortis is lost. A small group of volunteer soldiers have moved south in hopes of buying us time, but without the army from Baskla, I’m afraid we will all be overrun.”
“You have nothing to fear, my lady. King Ricard is mobilizing his forces. If you can give us a detailed account, I will send it north to Forxam.”
“I was on my way to do just that,” Queen Issalyn said.
“Then allow me to escort you.”
“What about your mission?” she asked.
“My task was find out as much as possible and report back to my king. I doubt I can learn more than you already know, my lady.”
“Good,” Queen Issalyn said.
The group, twice as large as before, moved north more swiftly. Issalyn rode beside Josston and told him what had happened in Ortis.
“My late husband was mobilizing his troops to sail north and attack Yelsia,” she told him as they rode along.
“Yes, we were waiting to join forces with him, I’m afraid,” Josston said. “They never came.”
“No,” Issalyn agreed. “I was not with them, but we suddenly got word that Oveer wanted all his troops to join him in Osla. He was marching south and even the reserve guard was to join him. We were left defenseless.”
“I’m shocked,” Josston said. “What would cause him to make such a rash decision?”
“The witch,” Issalyn said quietly. “He must have fallen under her spell.”
“I cannot imagine anyone being able to compare with your own beauty, if I may be so bold,” the knight said.
Issalyn felt her checks flush. She had not been around men for a long time. King Oveer had only brought her out to show off her beauty to visiting dignitaries or on feast days. As the Queen of Ortis, the men who spoke to her were courteous, but none dared to flirt with her. Despite Oveer’s reputation for infidelity, he was also known to be extremely jealous. Issalyn had not be sincerely complimented in years.
“You may,” Queen Issalyn said. “And thank you. I’m afraid my husband and his entire army are dead.”
“That is what we heard as well,” Josston said sadly. “You have my deepest sympathies.”
“What I need is not sympathy,” Issalyn said. “My husband was a fool. He has left our kingdom in a desperate situation. The Norsik invaded when they realized the troops guarding the Wilderlands had abandoned their posts. If not for Lord Lorik, there would not be a kingdom left.”
“We have heard of this man as well. He is a lord of Ortis then?”
“Not exactly,” Issalyn said. She felt slightly guilty talking about Lorik to another man. She liked Josston’s attention; he was a handsome man, and obviously a chivalrous one as well. Their flirtation made her feel alive and she found it exciting.
“He is a mighty warrior,” she said, “like a hero of old. He is king of the forest elves in the Wilderlands. At least, that is what I have been told. He rules the refugee camp which is made up of survivors from the Norsik raids and people fleeing the witch’s monsters from the south.”
“Where is the camp?” Josston asked.
“It is stretched along the northern border,” Queen Issalyn replied. “The monsters haven’t come that far. They have fallen back with captives which the witch is using to create her army.”
“Who is this foul sorceress?”
“I don’t know. Most of our information comes from the same wizard you mentioned. I did not speak to him, but Lord Lorik has.”
“The wizard did not consult you in Ort City?”
“No,” Queen Issalyn said, her face downcast. “I did not learn of him until I met Lord Lorik. He and his volunteers came south and escorted the refugees north from Ort City. He saved all our lives.”
“He must be a mighty warrior,” Josston said.
Queen Issalyn felt her cheeks flush again and realized she probably sounded like a young maiden bragging about her beau. She straightened in her saddle and adjusted the heavy cloak around her shoulders.
“He is,” she said softly. “Tell me more of what the wizard told your king.”
“He warned us of the witch’s army. He claimed to be gathering forces to make a stand on the Falxis side of the Walheta Mountains. He urged us to join forces with this Lorik you speak of on our southern border.”
“Do you believe him?” Issalyn asked.
“As I said, my lady, I wasn’t there when he spoke with King Ricard. I will say that I find all of this hard to believe. I heard that the reason we were mobilizing to attack Yelsia was because they harbored a wizard. We also heard rumors of a great black dragon ravaging the northern villages of Yelsia. Now a witch is creating an army and we’re to join forces with the king of the forest elves. I’m afraid I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“I understand,” Queen Issalyn said. “I feel much the same way. I don’t think I could believe it if I hadn’t seen the monsters for myself.”
“You mentioned the monsters,” Josston said. “What were they like?”
“They were horrible,” she admitted. “They had the body of a horse, but the chest, shoulders, arms, and head of a man. Their eyes were black and they had talons for fingers. Long, oval shaped wings sprouted from their back. They were almost like dragonfly wings. And from the haunches of the horse they had a huge scorpion tail, complete with venomous stingers.”
“It is truly hard to imagine,” Josston said.
“They were worse than any nightmare,” she confided. “I had the city gates closed, when we saw them approaching, but they flew over the battlements. They impaled their victims with their tails and then flew south again.”
“Surely if they impaled people, the witch couldn’t use the victims as her army. Isn’t it more likely that they were eating the people they caught?”
“I don’t know,” Issalyn said. “We never saw them eating their victims. We survived the first assault in the royal castle, but the monsters broke through the roofs of the other buildings. No one was safe. When the second wave struck, it became obvious that we couldn’t stay in the city. The monsters attacked in large numbers, and eventually they would have razed the castle. After the second attack, we gathered what survivors we could and fled north.”
“I’m sorry you had to endure such horrific events,” Josston said, his gaze so steady it made Issalyn both giddy and nervous at the same time. “I assure you that you are safe now, my lady. I guarantee it on my honor.”
“You are very kind,” Issalyn said. “How much farther is Forxam?”
“Not far, my lady. Not far.”
They went down into the bowels of the castle once again. This time they both had lamps. When they went into the dungeon, Lorik feared that he might be tempted to open the secret door again, but this time the voice beyond was silent. Perhaps, Lorik thought, it was because of the light or maybe Stone’s presence. Either way, he was glad not to be tempted again. It was disconcerting to think that perhaps the way out of the castle was through the secret door in the dungeon corridor, but that is not where the mist had led Lorik. If that hidden passage was the only way out of the castle, Lorik knew he would abandon the city before opening the door to whatever evil lay beyond it.
“Oh, what a lovely place you’ve brought me to,” Stone said as they walked down the dungeon corridor. “And what a magnificent aroma. I’m glad I didn’t eat.”
“Do you ever stop complaining?” Lorik asked.
“Sure, just put me in front of a crackling fire, place a mug of ale in my hand, and keep any monsters far away. I’ll never complain again.”
“Too bad,” Lorik said, suppressing a grin. “If you keep groaning, I’ll lock you in one of these cells.”
“Can you imagine?” Stone said seriously. “Locked away, down here in the dark. A man would go insane in a place like this.”
“You were on the fast track to a dungeon, as I recall, before my wholesome influence changed you.”
“Perhaps, but I think I’d rather die fighting than be locked away in the dark.”
“Are you afraid of the dark?”
“I wasn’t before I realized that monsters were real,” Stone said. “Now tell me that the dark isn’t a little bit more frightening than you thought.”
“Alright,” Lorik said. “Well, we won’t be down here much longer and if this really is the passage out of the castle, then we’ll keep torches lit all the way.”
“Good,” Stone said. “I don’t relish running through a dark passage being chased by monsters. That’s when they always get you.”
“Baby,” Lorik teased.
They came to the storage room and Lorik pointed to the wardrobe and the chest.
“I think this is it.”
“You think the passage is here?”
“Behind the wardrobe,” Lorik said. “Why do you always make things so difficult?”
“I thought that was my job.”
“No, your job is to help. Here, hold this lamp.”
Stone stood to the side, holding both lamps so that the room was filled with yellow light. There was a mark on the floor, it was faint, but Lorik bent down and studied it.
“I think this is where the wardrobe dragged on the floor,” he said.
“It probably did,” Stone agreed, “when they moved the ugly thing in here.”
Lorik shook his head and heaved on the wooden furniture. It didn’t budge.
“There, we tried. Now let’s get out of here,” Stone said.
“What is your hurry, you can’t be that hungry?”
“I don’t like it down here, it’s hard to breathe.”
“Stop complaining. Can’t you see that something is going on with this wardrobe. I mean, why won’t it move? If it were just an old piece of furniture, it would move when I pulled on it.”
“Not if it was filled with something heavy,” Stone said.
Lorik considered that for a moment and decided to open the wardrobe. There was no latch, but the door was stuck and Lorik had to use his dagger to pry it open.
“See,” Stone said. “It’s full of old books. And books are heavy. This is just a junk room. Every castle probably has half a dozen rooms just like this.”
“No,” Lorik said. “This is different.”
“How do you know?”
“The mist led me down here.”
“The mist?” Stone asked. “Like the mist in the Wilderlands that you said led you through the forest at night? Are you sure you didn’t get hit on the head or something?”
“You can joke all you like. The mist appeared in the castle last night. It led me down here and disappeared between this wardrobe and that chest.”
“What’s in the chest?”
“I don’t know,” Lorik said. “It was dark in here last night. You never would have made it.”
“Shut up,” Stone said. “Open the chest.”
The chest was locked, and Lorik started to find something to smash the lock with.
“What are you doing now?” Stone asked.
“I need something to break the lock.”
“Hold it,” he said. “Take the lamps.”
Lorik took one lamp and set it on the wardrobe. Then he took the other and held it over his head. Stone stooped down in front of the chest and looked at the lock. Then he pulled out a small knife that was hidden in his leather belt. It was little more than a thin strip of metal, the size of a blade of grass. He inserted the small knife into the opening of the lock.
“You can pick locks?” Lorik asked.
“It’s a useful skill I learned in the wild days of my youth.”
“You’re a crook. I’m telling Vera.”
“She knows, that’s what she loves about me.”
The knife rattled in the lock, then it clicked and the chest lid popped. It was still closed, but a tiny gap had opened around the edge of the lid.
“Try it now,” Stone said, standing up and taking the lamp from Lorik.
The big man bent down and pulled on the lid. It creaked, the wood seemed to groan, then it popped open. Both men stood back, shocked by what lay inside. The chest was full of gold, and three pale, human skulls sat on top of the mound of coins.
“Now we know why you couldn’t move it,” Stone said.
“What is it?” Lorik asked.
“It’s hidden treasure,” Stone said. “It’s the kind of thing thieves look for when they sneak into a lord’s estate. Hidden treasure is the best kind of treasure. You can steal it and no one knows.”
Lorik looked at his friend, who shrugged as if to say he were just being honest.
“Okay, so why is there a chest of gold here?”
“Well, this room seems pretty secure,” Stone said. “No way in except through the dungeon. No thief wants to go anywhere near the dungeon. And if there really is a secret escape tunnel somewhere in this room, it makes sense to have a stash of coin to take with you while you flee.”
“What about the skulls?” Lorik asked. “I’ve never heard of that before.”
“Probably just there to scare thieves, but it could be a cursed treasure. I’ve heard stories about that before.”
“Those stories aren’t true,” Lorik said, his hand moving toward the gold.
“Neither are stories of dragons or monsters,” Stone said.
Lorik hesitated, then decided it wasn’t worth the risk.
“Okay, so we don’t touch the gold,” he said as he closed the lid on the chest. “I doubt the books are cursed.”
Lorik turned to the wardrobe and started pulling out the ancient books. Dust billowed up as he pulled several volumes out at once. He didn’t bother looking to see what the books were; he just stacked them against another piece of old furniture and turned back to the wardrobe. On his third armload of books, he felt a small bit of resistance, as if one of the books was stuck to the back of the wardrobe. Suddenly the big piece of furniture sprang forward.
“Look out!” Stone shouted as he back pedaled out of the way.
If the wardrobe had been a trap, it might have killed Lorik. The big man sprang backward, but there wasn’t much room to maneuver in the cramped space. A gust of air made the flames in the lanterns waver madly for a moment, but then everything was still.
“I told you,” Lorik said. “One of the books must have been the key to opening the passage.”
“If it was,” Stone said, “you broke it.”
They looked at the books that were still in Lorik’s arms. One had an ancient thread dangling out of it. Lorik set the books down and opened the passageway up, holding his lamp out into the darkness of the dank smelling corridor. Stone steps led down into a narrow passage that was dark and damp.
“Lovely,” Stone said.
“Let’s see where it goes,” Lorik urged.
“Shouldn’t we tell someone where we are and what we’re up to,” Stone said. “I doubt you want the others just milling around while we’re down here. There’s no telling how long that passage is and it could be a trap.”
“When did you become so timid?” Lorik snapped.
“When I found out I was going to be a father,” Stone said; the look on his face told Lorik he was being serious.
The statement hung in the air. Lorik wouldn’t have been more surprised if his friend had slapped him hard in the face.
“What?” he finally asked.
“I’m going to be a father,” Stone said. “Vera’s pregnant.”
Lorik leaned back against some of the junk in the room opposite the secret passage.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “I didn’t think she could have children.”
“I don’t think she thought she could either,” Stone said. “It must have happened after the wizard fixed my leg. Perhaps he did something for her and just didn’t say.”
“Are you sure?” Lorik asked.
“She is.”
“Well... congratulations!” Lorik exclaimed. “That’s great news.”
“Is it?” Stone asked. He looked as serious as Lorik had ever seen him. “I mean, the world is going to hell, literally. There are monsters and witches roaming around, some sort of mutated army marching this way. What are the odds that you and I survive this, Lorik? Be honest.”
“Not very good,” Lorik said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Damn it, man, why didn’t you go with Queen Issalyn?”
“What would that have done, given me a few more weeks before we’re all overrun by nightmarish creatures we can’t even conceive of? Vera told me last night, and I was excited at first, but the more I think about it Lorik, the more certain I am that we aren’t going to make it.”
“We will,” Lorik said. “We have to now. You and Vera should leave, go north, go to the Wilderlands and search for the elves. Tell them I sent you and that they should find a place for you in the King Tree.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Stone said. “We aren’t going to run and hide while you risk your life for us. Besides, we’re better together; you said that yourself.”
“I did, but now you have a child to think about.”
“I am,” Stone said. “I’m through taking needless chances with my life, but I won’t shrink back from my duty either.”
“You have no duty,” Lorik said.
“Friendship demands that I stay,” Stone said. “I’ve been alone most of my life. I’ve never had anyone to watch my back before, much less to care about. I won’t throw all that away now that I have it. It’s worth more to me than ten chests full of gold,” he said, kicking the chest that contained the coins.
Dark blades shot out of the sides of the ancient looking chest, causing both men to shout and leap backward in alarm.
“Are you okay?” Lorik asked.
“Yeah,” Stone said. “What happened?”
“I guess the chest is a trap,” Lorik said, a little breathless.
“I wonder what would have happened if you’d touched the coins?”
“I don’t want to think about it. But you’re probably right about letting people know where we are. I’ll stay here and you go get some help.”
“Alright, but don’t do anything stupid,” Stone said.
He hurried back down the dungeon passageway and Lorik leaned back against the old desk he’d stacked the books from the wardrobe on. He brushed away the dust and looked at the faded gold leaf letters that had been pressed into the leather bindings. The books were a collection with multiple volumes. The title was
The Collected Wisdom Of The Venerated Society Of Mages
. He started to open one, but then wondered if the books might be booby trapped like the chest of gold. He decided not to take the risk.
It took almost ten minutes before Stone returned. He had three other men with him and he was carrying the long staff used to open the high windows in the feasting hall. The other men all carried torches.
“You found it,” one of the men exclaimed.
“We also found a trap, so don’t touch anything,” Lorik warned.
“I thought we could attach a torch to this pole and stick it down into the tunnel,” Stone said.
“Good idea.”
They used some old twine Lorik had seen in the junk room to tie one of the torches to the hook end of the pole, then carefully moved it into the dark passage. The walls were stone, roughly hewn from the bedrock the castle had been built on. There were thick spider webs that melted as the torch got close to them. The light flickered on the walls and floor, but there didn’t appear to be any more traps. The torch began to fall from the makeshift position on the long pole, and Lorik started bringing it back into the storage room.
“Be careful,” Stone warned. “It’s going to fall.”
“I’ve got it,” Lorik said. “You should have tied it better.”
“Don’t blame me,” Stone argued. “It was a good idea.”
The torch slipped again, this time breaking free of the twine and falling to the floor at the bottom of the stairs that led down from the storage room. Lorik was about to curse his bad luck, when the floor collapsed and fell into a deep, dark pit. No one said a word, they just leaned over the stairs looking down.
“I guess that answers the question of whether the tunnel has traps,” Stone said.
The light from the torch flickered on the bottom of the pit, which appeared to be stone. It was a deep pit, at least twenty feet. Deep enough to trap a man, even if the fall didn’t result in a broken leg.
“We still have to explore it,” Lorik said.
“We have to go in there?” asked one of the volunteers.
“It could be our only way out of here,” Lorik told them.
He stepped toward the entrance, but Stone grabbed his arm.
“Send one of the men,” he pleaded.
Lorik shook his head and moved forward. He stopped on the first step and took the long pole in both hands. Then he put the rod across his knee and heaved until the pole snapped into two pieces. He took the shorter piece and began tapping each step. Stone followed him, holding the torch high.
“This is how good men die,” Stone said. “Doing something foolish.”
“Stop complaining. You know we have to discover where this leads.”
“I don’t like booby traps. Any fool can stumble into them.”