Steel and Sorrow (32 page)

Charu sighed. “Neither do I.”

Charu left him and entered his tent. Melat’s arms found their way around his neck. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“So you’ve heard then?” he asked in a heavy voice.

“Yes.” She shook her head. “We knew the Blue Island Clan was cruel, but it is still shocking.”

He pushed her aside and walked over to a table. “This is part of war.”

“Don’t pretend to hide your emotions. I’m not one of your men. This bothers you too, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does,” he snapped. “Green Forest Clan or not, I wouldn’t stoop as low as Tobin did. The men want his blood now and I have half a mind to give it to them.”

“But you won’t.” Melat came over and took his hand in hers. “You’re too smart for that. You know he is trying to goad you into making a mistake.”

“I know.”

Melat pulled out a message. “This came in just a few moments ago. He didn’t know Tobin was going to strike. The strategy was a last minute decision that couldn’t have been foreseen.”

“That means little to the innocents who died.”

“I know that, but the letter says more.” Melat paused. “He believes that Tobin is so sure the incident in the village will shake you that you should withdraw to Feruse and make him think you’re afraid. A strategy was attached to the message detailing the most likely set up of their forces if we meet them in battle there.”

“Interesting.”

“Do you think it will work?”

Charu examined the strategy and saw that it seemed sound. “It could.”

“But?”

“But the closer we get to Feruse, the more likely we might be betrayed.”

She smiled. “True. So then what do we do?”

“I’ll have to think about it before making a decision.”

Chapter 23

“Get up you worthless piece of garbage. No son of mine would be lying on the floor like that.”

Kroke growled as he heard his father’s voice inside his head. The man had been dead going on twenty years, yet Kroke’s hate for him had never waned. At the age of twelve he had killed his father, tired of the man’s abuse of him and his family. The rape of Kroke’s older sister had pushed him over the edge.

He rolled himself off the stone floor and sat up in a foul mood. The smell of molding straw from the corner of his cell didn’t help his demeanor.

And no one even thanked me. They all thought me the bigger monster for taking his life.
He swore under his breath.
I hope they all go to the One Below.

Kroke lifted a hand to his face, feeling first the dried blood, and then the knot above his eye where the spear butt had struck him.

Against his better judgment he had allowed himself to be captured.

That woman is going to be the death of me. I should have fought them. Better to die fighting than like this.

Three plain stone walls and one of iron bars faced outward to what appeared to be a long hallway. The flickering light provided by torches hanging on the wall sconces didn’t allow him to see much else.

He spat.
Worse than Jeldor’s dungeons.

“Psst.”

Kroke jumped at the sound and his hand went for a knife. Naturally, he found none.

“Kroke. Is that you? Are you awake?”

“Who’s there?” he hissed.

“It’s Geran.”

“Who?” asked Kroke.

“Geran. I’m a member of the Royal Guard.”

“Ah,” said Kroke, wishing he had paid attention to the names of the men he had traveled with. “What happened to Elyse?”

“I think the queen is being held on a separate level. I know she isn’t down here.”

“Who is down here?”

“Four others from the guard. We’re the only ones who survived when we were attacked.”

“Four? Can any of you still fight?”

“Not all of us. Niken and I are ok. The captain is also with us, but he’s still unconscious after Markus questioned him earlier. They’re doing the same to Faust right now. It seems like we’re going to be next.”

“Do you know what they’re looking for?” asked Kroke.

“Not specifically,” said Geran.

“Were you all awake when they brought us down here?”

“Yes, why?”

“Start giving me details. Anything you can remember. How many floors down we are, the number of guards, possible routes of escape, potential problems—anything you can think of.”

“Why? It’s not like we can get out of here.”

“Just do it,” snapped Kroke.

“Sure,” said Geran, his voice a little shaky. “But Niken has a better memory for that sort of thing.”

“Quit wasting time and someone start talking.” Kroke listened intently while he searched himself, double-checking to make sure the guards found all his knives. He had to give them credit. They were thorough.

Good thing I keep more than knives on me.

Out of habit, Kroke dressed in little armor, hating the way it restricted his movements. Yet, he always wore a pair of snug gauntlets to protect his wrists and arms for the close quarter fighting he preferred. The releases for the guards were hard to spot, so he wasn’t surprised to find them still on.

He slid two small catches out, twisted them, and then pushed down near his wrist. His right gauntlet opened. Inside, he found a piece of folded leather. He unfolded the leather and removed several pieces of slender, curved metal. He put the leather back and clasped the gauntlet around his arm again.

They should have had the sense to chain me like Jeldor did,
he thought while listening to Niken.

Kroke started working on the lock of his cell, reaching his hands through the metal bars and pressing his face against the cold steel as he maneuvered the slivers of metal in the key hole.

Niken wrapped up his description of the dungeon and its inhabitants at about the same time. “That’s about all I can recall,” whispered the man.

“You did well. Many wouldn’t have caught half as much as you did,” said Kroke, honestly. The man had a sharp mind.

We could use someone like him in the Hell Patrol.

Geran whispered. “Hey what’s that noise? Are you picking the lock?”

“Yes,” grunted Kroke as he twisted his arm around to get a better angle.

“Don’t bother. We tried earlier. It’s newer and one we’ve never seen.”

Kroke ignored the man as he concentrated on his task. Kroke had picked his fair share of locks when he worked as an assassin before joining the Hell Patrol. A target was usually most susceptible when relaxed in their home. Though Kroke practiced his lock-picking skills far less than he used to, he could still recall all his old tricks.

A click sounded and he allowed himself a grin.

“One Above,” said Geran. “Did you get it?”

“Yes,” said Kroke.

“Well hurry up and get us out of here.”

A door slammed from down the corridor and footsteps followed.

“Hurry,” added Geran. “They’re coming for one of us next.”

Kroke swore. “No time. Keep the guards distracted when they get here. I’ll do the rest.”

“The rest of what?” asked Niken.

“Just do it,” hissed Kroke. “And pretend I’m still unconscious.”

Kroke quickly removed the small tools from the keyhole and made sure the lock stayed open before he moved away from the bars and settled back on the stone floor in roughly the same spot and position as earlier. He closed his eyes and listened to the distinctive gait of multiple men, their strides out of step with each other. The footsteps stopped in front of his cell.

“He still out?” asked a harsh voice.

“Aye,” said Niken. “We haven’t heard him budge.”

The footsteps shuffled over. “Well, then I guess one of you will have to be next.” Someone pulled a sword from its sheathe. “Open the door.” Keys began to jingle.

Kroke cracked his eye and saw the shadows of three men silhouetted against the opposite wall, standing in front of Geran and Niken’s cell. Kroke slowly eased himself off the ground.

“You. Get against the back wall. You. You’re coming with us. And hurry up with the blasted key.”

Kroke inched himself closer to the iron bars of his cell as the other guard muttered something under his breath.

“Wait,” said Geran. “Where’s Faust? How come you didn’t bring him back with you?”

One of the guards chuckled. “He didn’t make it through the duke’s questioning. Let’s hope you’re tougher, or better yet, more honest. Tell Markus what he wants to know and it’ll be a whole lot easier on all of us.”

Kroke heard the lock on the cell door next to him click. He rushed to his feet and slammed into the door of his cell. The high pitch squeal of the rusted hinges echoed in the damp underground corridor. The three guardsmen wheeled toward him, shocked. The door of Geran’s cell flung open as a set of thick hands pulled the guard carrying the keys inside.

The guardsman closest to Kroke stepped forward to thrust with his sword. Kroke sidestepped and grabbed the guard’s arm, using the man’s momentum to pull him forward as he jammed a lock pick into his eye. The soldier cried out and released the grip on his sword. Kroke snatched it before it fell, flipped it around, and stabbed it through the man’s chest.

Kroke yanked the sword free as he dodged a slash from another guard. Kroke brought his blade up to meet the man’s next attack when a Royal Guard charged through the open cell and slammed into Kroke’s opponent. The man crumpled to the floor and Kroke finished him off quickly.

The Royal Guard held out a hand. “I’m Niken.”

Kroke nodded as he took it. Geran joined them in the hallway with an unconscious body over his shoulder.

The captain.

Niken scooped up a sword. “I’ll lead the way.”

Kroke grabbed his arm. “No. You’ll make too much noise. I can get us out of here. Just don’t follow me too closely or say a word. If I get turned around, I’ll ask you.”

Kroke pushed past Niken before he could respond.

* * *

Elyse paced back and forth in her cell. Lobella sat in a corner near Olasi’s family. It seemed that Markus had taken nothing to chance, imprisoning not only his father and mother, but also his siblings, their spouses, and their children. Truth be told, the large room seemed rather small with so many people crammed into it. The only privacy was a half wall which separated the privy. Unlike the hopeless feeling she had when locked in the bowels of Jeldor’s castle, rage consumed her.

How could I have been so utterly stupid to fall for this? Even after being warned I took the risk anyway, hoping it would pay off. Now look at me.
She dug her nails into her palms. She wanted to scream.

She stopped.
How did Illyan know Markus was a traitor when no one else did? They are half a kingdom apart. And why doesn’t Markus remember sending me the letter in the first place? Someone must have set me up. But who? One Above, let me get out of this place and I promise to not only apologize to Illyan for all that I’ve done, but also get to the bottom of this.

She glanced over to the back corner where Duke Olasi lay asleep on a pile of hay. Severely ill, the letter had not deceived Elyse about the duke’s condition. Arine, Olasi’s granddaughter, sat at the duke’s side. She saw Elyse watching the duke and came up to the queen.

“How is he?” asked Elyse in a hushed voice.

“Not good. We can only do so much for him here. I’m afraid that unless he receives some sort of medical attention, he’ll die.” Arine brushed aside her blonde locks and wiped away the tear trailing down her cheek.

Elyse felt a tug in her chest, and put her hand on Arine’s arm. She had hoped for a better reunion with her childhood friend. “I don’t understand how this all happened. Did no one else see the signs that your uncle could do this?”

Arine nodded. “Many of us did, but Grandfather did not. We tried to raise the issue to him several times, but his biggest weakness has always been his family. He cared too much for Markus to think that such malice could reside in him. He never understood that Markus could not live in the shadow of Grandfather any longer. Grandfather was sick before, but not like this,” she said looking back at the frail figure of Duke Olasi. His wife, Ermail, stroked his wrinkled brow. “I think the betrayal has pushed his health over the edge.”

Elyse wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. “Where are all your grandfather’s supporters? Other than Master Amcaro, I have never heard of anyone spoken more highly of than him in all of Cadonia.”

Arine bowed her head. “My brother would not rest in proving our uncle wrong and he was on the verge of having proof that even Grandfather could not ignore. Yet, he mysteriously disappeared along with several others in his inner circle. Markus seized power shortly after and threw the rest of the family in prison. We found out later that Uncle used my brother’s disappearance to threaten many of Grandfather’s supporters, using fear to force them to his side. He had also woven in Conroy’s men into the ranks of the army. Not a large number, but enough to sow doubt in Grandfather’s ability to run his province. Arine shrugged. “The remainder of Grandfather’s supporters were too few and simply fell into line.”

Unbelievable. If someone as beloved as Olasi can lose his seat than it is no wonder the kingdom is at war.

“My Queen, what will we do next?” asked Arine.

The question caused Elyse’s stomach to drop. She looked up, noticing the others in the room staring at her, dozens of hopeful eyes searching for an answer. As their queen, they expected her to have a solution to their problem.

Don’t they see that I’m as helpless as they are?

“What about the royal army, Your Majesty?” asked one of Olasi’s older grandchildren.

“Yes. Won’t your commander storm the city and free us?” asked one of the women. “I hear this mysterious foreigner you have is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Yes, Kaz is a remarkable man,” Elyse said, sounding distant, wondering if she would ever be able to see him again and tell him as much. “But he is miles away. We’ll have to think of something else.”

“Don’t waste your time,” said a tired voice from the back. Everyone faced Ermail, who glanced over her boney shoulder. Her hand stayed on her husband’s brow. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I suggest you get comfortable. My boy isn’t likely to free us anytime soon. He won’t risk us mingling with the people so soon after taking my husband’s seat. If we’re lucky, when all is said and done, he may exile us to Thurum or some other awful land.” She let out a long sigh. “One Above, how did we go so wrong with him and seemingly so right with everyone else.”