Witness
Kelverin was looking out through the cracks of the reddish bricks. The crack Belrin had made during his emotional outbreak and onslaught against the bricks had created a crack almost as thick as a finger. He could see the white of the snow field and the lip of the chasm. The drawbridge and gatehouse were not in his field of vision, but he heard the creak of wood and metal as the drawbridge moved. There was a dull, shuddering thud as heavy wood connected with stone and then the sounds of horses hooves. Two riders appeared, cloaks billowing atop heavy warhorses. These were followed by two more. Six, eight, ten. The sound of their hooves was muffled by the snow. Great white clouds were kicked up behind the horses. Their hooves thundered on ice and stone as the riders proceeded down the trail between the crucified corpses. The third and fourth riders Kelverin knew as the armoured leader that he had seen from the journey in and the smaller one. Behind them rode Cloak and the fourth of that group. A familiar pattern caught his eye. The next three riders rode together. It looked like the prince's cloak. And was that second one Tyrus's? He couldn't tell. Kelverin watched until the riders were mere specks against the snow field. As they rode up toward the pass, they passed behind a snowdrift. Kelverin slide down with his back against the wall and sat down heavily.
Slave
Sinjin awoke in the dark and immediately regretted it. Atleast in the misty realm of sleep she could escape her waking demons. She would have slept forever if she could. The thing that they had put in her back moved, as if suddenly aware that its host was once again awake. Her stomach clenched and she convulsed in a dry heave, but she had nothing left in her stomach. The sensation passed. She lay on a cot with her head hanging over the end staring at a puddle of drying vomit which was splattered over the floor and walls. She quickly withdrew from the overpowering stench and moved to the other end of the cot, shivering in the cold. Sinjin looked about the room trying to keep her mind off more unpleasant things.
The room she occupied was small, with stone walls and a bare floor. A heavy iron barred door in one wall was the only entrance. The area beyond the barred door was lit feebly by a dim light that came from somewhere to the right. The cot that she had slept on stood against one wall. On it, lay a garment of coarse brown weave. She picked it up and looked at it. A simple tunic, but thick and warm. She quickly put it on. A bucket stood in the corner. It was filled with cold water. Apparently, her health was of some concern to the slavers.
Having nothing else to explore, her mind slowly drifted back to the thing in her back. The tiny electrical sensations were infrequent and only slightly painful. A reminder it seemed, little more. She carefully reached under the tunic with a hand and gently ran her fingers over her place that it had entered her. She felt a lump and rough, scar under her fingers. She could feel the thing move slightly beneath her touch.
"It's a part of you now".
The voice had come from outside her cell door. She moved over to the bars and peered out into the corridor. She could see other cell doors like hers lining the corridor and could her soft moans, retching and the occasional cough. It seemed most of the cells were filled. At the far end, a torch burned.
"It's called a retlok," said the voice. "Each slave here is infected with it as you are." It was a deep, powerful grinding voice. It seemed to be coming from the cell across from hers.
She peered into the darkness and saw a shadow move. A figure moved forward and came into the light. Two large curved horns protruding through the bars, glinted in the torchlight. Sinjin held back a gasp as the creatures face came out of the darkness. Large black eyes flanked a snout. It reminded Sinjin of a bull's face and the two horns sprouting from the skull only enhanced that image. But this was no bull. It was an org, she was almost positive. The orgs were a powerful warrior race. They were similar to humans, but often developed odd mutations : tusks, horns, fur, bony ridges, tails. No two alike. This one was more bestial than most and huge. Standing fully eight feet tall. Fur covered most of the body. Corded muscles rippled with every movement.
Sinjin recovered from her initial shock. "Why do they put such creatures in our bodies."
"Control through pain," said the org. "Some of the older slaves say they can even find us with them."
Sinjin continued to scratch and poke at the scar. "If I could reach it, I'd cut the damned thing out."
"Don't."
"Why?"
"He's right," came another voice, further down the corridor. Sinjin peered into the darkness and saw a scrawny, dirty man come to the edge of his cell, pressing his face against the bars. "We took a sharp stone and cut the bugger out of old Sam. We got the worm out alright, but Samuel died."
"Not surprising. Digging at someone's spine with a sharp stone -
"It was the retlok that killed him." said the scrawny man. "And you'll die too if you go tearing that thing out a' ya. We needs 'em now. The thing makes us depends on 'em."
The scrawny man nodded his head vigorously. The org had a serious expression on his face and then turned away and walked back into the darkness of his cell.
All That Glitters
Silk ran his hands along the grain of wood of the bookshelves re-examining what he had earlier dismissed. Books were valuable, especially these, but they were also heavy and difficult to fence. The perfect place to hide a secret door, behind a mountain of books which held no interest for the average thief. No doubt Belisar knew all this. Any book valuable enough to be worth the trouble was probably inside the trophy room itself.
Sendel gently rapped his knuckles against the wood of the shelves. He could hear no difference between any of the three. If there was a door behind this middle shelf, it was very well made. He glanced over at Spaden, who knelt, crouched working on the lock of the false door. She'd been at it for several minutes and Sendel was getting nervous. They'd been in the house too long already. One of the servants might be along before too long to fix the master's evening tea or some other routine task.
"Got it."
"You ready, then?"
"Yes. Remember, one long smooth motion. Push firmly, but slowly."
Sendel set his feet in a wide stance, placed his hands on the shelf and began to push. A grunt of astonishment escaped his lips as the shelf edged forward an inch, then another. It was immensely heavy. Much heavier than he had anticipated. He leaned into the work, pushing with every ounce of strength he had. The shelf rolled slowly back and then it began to climb up, rolling up the ramp that Spaden had predicted. His left hand began aching from the strain and his hands became slippery with sweat. He suddenly realized he couldn't shift the position of his hands or do anything else that might make this more comfortable. One smooth motion. Anything else might upset the delicate balance between the shelf and the locking mechanism... between himself and Spaden.
The shelf grated, stone against stone. A faint clicking could be heard behind this. Sendel concentrated on the sounds as sweat dripped off his face. He managed another full step trying to ignore the sharp pains in his back. Another step. Sendel shut his eyes against the pain. He hoped his hands didn't slip, his feet didn't fumble. He starteed to feel light headed and was afraid he was going to pass out. Another step. Just one more step. He had lost sight of Spaden and was fully eight feet up the ramp now. No more. He couldn't. Not another inch. Something was going to break, he knew it. He felt a trembling in his stomach and knew he was going to lose it. She'd be disappointed, but at this point he didn't care. He didn't want the glory, the gold, no of it. He just needed to rest. Another inch and he was sure he was going to black out. He felt it coming, like a wave of darkness descending on him. He welcomed unconsciousness.
Then he felt a click. A solid, metallic thump. He slid down the shelf, sinking to his knees. His labored breathing was the only sound in the room. He wondered if he'd made it all the way up the ramp or if the weight of the shelf had pushed him back down to the bottom. He couldn't tell.
His head swam and he rolled over, leaning his back up against the books. His eyes fell on the ramp that he had just traversed. It was a long smooth plain of marble, with a track on either side for the hidden wheels of the shelve and a chain inset in a track in the middle. That must have been the clicking he'd heard. It was over twelve feet long and must have climbed fully three feet.
To his left was a short passageway, newly revealed now that the shelf sat at the top of the ramp. The air smelled a bit musty and was warm. The passageway ended in a thick, cloth curtain. Beyond that curtain was the trophy room, Sendel just knew it.
Spaden poked her head into the ramp passageway and looked up at Sendel. His face was read and glistened with perspiration. His breath rattled and wheezed softly in his chest.
"Next time," Sendel croaked, "you push".
Spaden, smiling, walked up the ramp, past Sendel and up to the curtain.
"Come on, let's go see what's in here," she said as she held the curtain open and walked in. Sendel struggled to his feet and followed.
All thoughts of weariness and pain fled as Sendel brushed back the curtain and stepped in. A large chamber greeted his eyes. Spaden raised her lantern high to banish the shadows. That light was reflected back a hundred times over by faceted gems, gold coins, sparkling jewels, gleaming bright blades, rare crystal, silver goblets and more. Above, the light reflected from the vacant eyes of a miscellany of stuffed beasts, all prizes from the hunt.
The two thieves wasted no time. They lit two more lanterns, which were sitting by the door in the room, and set about stuffing their looting sacks with the most precious items. Sendel reached into his pocket and withdrew a clear crystal shard.
"What's that?" asked Spaden, pausing in her work.
"A methkari crystal. It's a naturally occuring essence resonator."
"A natural what?"
"It's sensitive to magical emanations, spells, energy fields, that sort of thing. It picks up the essence from the environment and turns it into mechanical energy." Seeing her confused look, Sendel tried again. "When you place it near something magic, it hums and glows.".
"Oh," said Spaden, understanding at last. "I thought you said the master of this keep didn't like magic".
"He doesn't dislike it. But he's a warrior. He thinks using magic is unmanly. I'm sure he's picked up a few magical wonders in his travels and they're probably locked up in here, collecting dust, so he can show them off as trophies. Such a waste. Ah, here we are." Sendel paused in his thieving as the crystal began to hum. A dim reddish light warmed the inside of the crystal and lit up Sendel's grinning face.
"Found something, did you?"
"I think it's this necklace... no, wait, it's this pouch." Sendel put the crystal down on a nearby shelf and examined a decorative silk pouch bag. On the side of the pouch was a word Sendel didn't recognize.
"It's full of... things."
"Things?" she asked, continuing her search through the room.
"Well, they're all different shapes and sizes." He said with his arm thrust in the bag. "Well, I'll be damned! Look at this."
Spaden turned around and clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Sendel had reached his arm into the bag, his entire arm, and the bag was only six inches deep.
"Magic," he said.
He withdrew a small, flat piece of wood with a tiny metal handle.
"What is this thing?" he said, showing it Spaden.
"It looks like a little faerie's door, like I've seen in the forest by the light of a full moon."
"But this is just a door and a frame." Sendel said, quite frustrated. "It doesn't go anywhere."
"Perhaps you should give it somewhere to go."
"What do you mean?"
"Put it on the wall," she said, pointing to a bare patch of wall beneath a bear's head.
Sendel walked over and leaned the tiny piece of wood up against the wall. Instantly, the piece of wood flattened against the door and began to grow. Within seconds it was a full size door with a bright brass handle and brass hinges.
Sendel let out a long, low whistle, opened the door and looked out. He was looking out into the night air, overlooking the garden from the second floor. He closed the door and turned back around to face Spaden.
"This would have been handy getting in here. Hey, think about it. We don't have to pick locks anymore. All we have to do is use this little bugger to walk straight through the wall. Now then, how do you get it to go back to a piece of wood?"
"I don't know," said Spaden with a shrug and turned back to stuffing her sack. She continued to pick her way through gems and jewels, ignoring Sendel's grunts as he attempted to force the magic door off the wall. She stopped when she came to a large, burgundy gem which caught the lantern light and held it within like blood mixed with fire. Carefully cradling the fabulous gem, she watched it catch and play with the light. It was the most fabulous jewel that she had ever seen. She tucked it into her neck pouch under her shirt.
She soon found herself standing before a large oaken display case that dominated one wall.
"The weaponry collection," said Sendel, who had given up on the door. It took the young thief only a moment to pick the lock on the cabinet and the two oak doors swung slowly open. A magnificent collection of weaponry greeted the thieves wondering eyes. A huge brass hammer, a magnificent jeweled and decorative long sword, a black dagger, a curved scimitar, a massive morning star and a long bow fashioned from ironwood.
Spaden's hands went to the dagger and Sendel plucked the long sword from its receptacle. Spaden began to speak, but halted suddenly, listening. Sendel heard it too. Angry voices from the outer room could be heard as heavy footsteps came pounding up the ramp at a run. Sendel grabbed Spaden's shirt and pulled her with him toward the back end of the room.
"Run!"
This page last updated Wednesday, December 24, 2008. Copyright 1990-2009 David M. Roomes.