The Pool And The Pedestal (Book 2)
Read The Pool And The Pedestal (Book 2) Online
Authors: Daniel McHugh
THE SERAPHINIUM
BOOK II
THE POOL AND THE PEDESTAL
BY DANIEL FRANCIS MCHUGH
Copyright
2011
Daniel Francis McHugh
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be
used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
written permission from the author.
McHugh, Daniel F. (2011).
The Pool and the Pedestal
(The Seraphinium Series, Book 2)
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to
Janis McHugh,
Who taught me how to love.
William McHugh,
Who taught me how to learn.
AND
Grandpa Casey,
Who taught me how to live.
Additional thanks go out to early readers of the series previously not mentioned: John Pryor (a most excellent brother in law) and his wife Megan; Beth and Rob Bishop; David “Harpy” Harap; Carl “GeeLove” Galvan,
THE NEARING WORLD
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 2: THE DAGGER BENEATH THE THRONE
CHAPTER 5: FLAME OF THE SERAPH
CHAPTER 7: THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY
CHAPTER 8: RED HAT AND BALD HEAD
CHAPTER 10: THE CRADLE OF NIGHT
CHAPTER 12: BLOOD OF THE SERAPH
CHAPTER 14: THE POOL AND THE PEDESTAL
CHAPTER 17: A MADMAN’S RAVINGS
GLOSSARY OF CHARACTERS AND LOCATIONS
PROLOGUE
A loud crack echoed through the lower hallways of the Hold. Sergeant Haygin’s head spun and his eyes narrowed.
“Who goes there?” barked the sergeant.
No reply. A few moments later the sound repeated. Haygin’s face reddened. He was unaccustomed to being ignored within the confines of the Zodrian military installation. Out in the field, colonels and generals led the Guard, but in the Hold, training sergeants like Haygin were all-powerful. Even the General Staff refused to countermand orders given by the small corps of military instructors.
Haygin turned and marched down the hallway through the guttering torchlight. The lower level of the Hold should be deserted at this hour. The exhausted recruits usually adjourned to their cramped quarters on the upper levels after a weary day of training. Most were happily snoozing in their bunks. The lower level was a storehouse for provisions and armaments and deemed off limits in the evening.
Ahead, the hall turned left and followed the foundations of the massive structure. Haygin scowled as he turned the corner. A figure dressed in the green uniform of a recruit stood before a heavy, black door nearly two dozen yards from Haygin. The sergeant was unable to discern the recruit’s features, but one thing was certain, this soldier wandered through a restricted area after hours.
“You there!” barked Haygin. “State your name and business!”
The recruit shot a glance at Haygin, then dashed toward a stairwell at the far end of the hall.
“Halt!” shouted the sergeant.
The recruit reached the hall’s end and disappeared into the stairwell. Haygin clenched his teeth and his face purpled. The audacity of these new recruits infuriated him. All these fresh-faced militiamen pouring in from the South caused difficulty enough, but their inability to respect the chain of command was too much.
Haygin found himself trotting forward after a man who should have stopped dead in his tracks at the command of a staff sergeant. He reached the stairs and heard echoing footfalls as the recruit escaped to the passages above.
“You will find the devil come for you in the morning, young man!” shouted Haygin shaking a fist up the stairwell. “When I discover which one of the recruits was out of quarters this night, then I will have you! Trust me, extra work detail will be the least of your punishments …”
Both the footfalls and the echoes of Haygin’s threat faded into the darkness. Whoever the lad was, he would find himself bound to the whipping post by midday. A dozen lashes before the company of the Hold would certainly cure any more after hours escapades.
Haygin let his emotions settle, sighed and turned back to the hallway from whence he came. He couldn’t really blame the soldier. Rations were low and the recruits were worked hard. This wasn’t the first time a recruit was found scrounging for an extra bit of food or drink. You might think word would spread that all provisions were kept under lock and key.
Haygin strolled past the heavy, black door. A thick padlock hung through an iron hasp. All appeared to be in order. The sergeant stifled a yawn. He was as exhausted as the soldiers he spent all day training and even his ire moments ago couldn’t banish the fatigue that weighed him down.
He even chuckled as he stepped away from the shuttered storeroom. That fool recruit not only earned himself a lashing on the morrow, but his efforts were in vain. This room didn’t even contain food stores. They were kept in much larger rooms on the opposite side of the Hold. This small room held only a minor cache of armaments. In a building whose occupants were hungry but armed to the teeth, that recruit would have been rudely awakened when the fruits of his trespass turned out to be crossbows and shields.
Haygin frowned and continued his nightly inspection of the Hold. He was a good soldier and had taken it upon himself years ago to complete a nightly inspection of the Hold’s cavernous foundation. Others thought him foolish to waste his time in such a way. The Hold was impregnable and her lower hallway probably the safest locale in the Nearing World.
Haygin allowed his compatriots to snigger at his expense. His real reason for these nightly inspections was solitude. The life of a soldier is anything but solitary. Every so often a man needs to be alone with his thoughts. Haygin found that time every night as he strolled the lower halls.
Every night, that is, until tonight. Haygin turned and glared at the storeroom door.
“Fool.” Grumbled the old sergeant. “That bit of grub you attempted to pilfer will cost you dearly, young man.”
Haygin turned back and stomped toward the stairwell leading to his quarters, his nightly routine ruined and his ire rising once more. As the sergeant rounded the landing and trudged up toward the main floor, a figure in green slid back down the opposite stairwell and crept toward the black door.
CHAPTER 1: REUNITED
Towers stretched into the sky wherever you looked. In some places arching causeways connected these towers. People strolled from one building to the next above Kael’s head. The buildings were massive. The group rode past a structure that easily could have contained all of his hometown of Kelky. Kael gazed in wonder.
“The Zodrians are obsessed by size and stature.” smiled Teeg.
Kael looked to the old Elf and noticed him smiling in Kael’s direction.
“In Luxlor, we prefer to harmonize with our surroundings.” continued Teeg. “If you love a place so dearly that you wish to make it your home, why change it so dramatically once you settle there? Here in Zodra, it is all about change. Pound more mortar and stone onto what exists and it must become better. That is the mindset of the Zodrian.”
“It certainly is impressive.” replied Kael staring at the towers above.
“Tis true the architecture is impressive, but what about the city?” asked Teeg.
“What do you mean?” questioned Kael. “I just said it was impressive.”
“You called the architecture impressive.” returned Teeg. “However, architecture is not a city. Take your eyes from the dizzying heights. The towers were put there by men and women of power and wealth to draw your attention. Now open your eyes to the city.”
Kael furrowed his brow and cast his eyes about the city streets as the group trotted on. At first he simply noticed the same crowds he had seen when his troop entered the city gates and Udas confronted them. Working men and women going about their business. Children, attending to chores or playing. Then he slowly recognized more. These people weren’t like his neighbors in Kelky. There was something different. Hopelessness permeated their actions. A joyless quality even hung over the children playing in the streets. A pall of despair washed over the entire city.
Kael also noticed a difference in the dress and cleanliness of the city. The towers above spoke of order and power. The city streets showed squalor and disarray. Garbage lay piled in front of the doors closest the street. The citizen’s wore tattered and dirty clothing.
“These people have a .... a hunger.” commented Kael.
Teeg furrowed his brow questioningly.
“Not a real hunger.” continued Kael searching for the right words. “A sort of hunger of the mind, not the body. They need something, I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“Hope.” rumbled Granu’s voice from beneath his black cowl. “It is the same in Keltar. The enemy wears down our reserve. He makes all seem hopeless, and in so doing heightens our despair. A people in the throws of despair are their own worst enemy. As I said to the Zodrian prince, we are in a war not only for lives, but also for the hearts and souls of our people.”
“How do you fight for someone's heart?” questioned Kael.
“That is anyone’s guess.” replied Granu pointing toward Manfir . “But I think the Zodrian is headed in the right direction.”
Kael looked ahead to the black stallion as it cantered down the street. Manfir sat atop the huge beast with his head held high. His burnished breastplate glinted in the fading sunlight. The Zodrian prince radiated power and confidence. As Manfir rode on, some Zodrians sneered at him and turned away. However, some greeted him with respect and honor. The former were always ignored and the latter were always greeted in return.