The Broken Sword - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The shadow slipped down from where it had tightly positioned itself in the corner above the doguren that walked its patrol. Its short fall to the floor was noiseless, so lightly did it land. It grabbed the dog-man around the neck with one gloved hand and another went to the back of its head, propelling the surprised guard solidly into a stone wall. The thud that resulted was probably enough to ensure its unconsciousness, but to make sure the figure switched both hands to its throat and squeezed until it stopped moving.

The doguren was pulled off to the side then the figure moved on, cowl pulled tightly over its face. It walked down the first hallway where one of the three companions was sleeping. This one was the wizard, Gregory. The doguren stationed outside his door looked up, sensing the cloaked figures approach. It reacted in surprise, barking out in its language demanding to know who the stranger was.

The answer came in the form of a dagger plunging into the dog-man's throat as the figure pretended to walk past it, then sprung into action. The doguren tried to yip out an alarm but between the blade that had cut its throat and another dagger that slipped between its ribs and into its lungs, it found its breath and then its life stolen from it. It was lowered silently to the ground and the assassin paused, looking in both directions for any sign of discovery. After several tense moments the figure moved, nothing had come.

A lock pick appeared in the gloved hand and in moments the door was open. Gregory was sitting at a desk studying a glowing light contained within a shaped cone of metal, projecting the light much like a hooded lantern might. He was oblivious to the danger behind him. So much so that he tried to jump out of his chair when a hand clad in a leather glove firmly wrapped around his mouth and pulled his head back.

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Nathanial was busy working himself into a sweat in his room, stretching and exercising as best he could in the confined quarters. Denied exodus from the palace, he was also denied a chance to jog to keep himself in shape. He made do with the rest of his exercises, both for form, muscle strength, and endurance, but he sorely missed the opportunity to run.

He was finishing with his last set of stretches when he felt a presence above him. He rolled over quickly and looked up, seeing nothing at first. Then he realized there was something above him. Much higher above him. Someone was on the ceiling, staring down at him. He gazed in shock, wondering how it was possible anyone could cling to the ceiling, even though the person had their arms and legs stretched out into the corners of the walls for tension.

Nathan opened his mouth and breathed in deeply, ready to shout out an alarm. Halfway through his breath something hit him in the stomach, catching him unaware and knocking his breath out of him. He doubled over in surprise then realized his mistake. Before he could recover the wall-crawling invader had leapt off the wall straight at him.

Nathanial straightened in time to catch the an open palm in his chest, knocking the wind out of him again and sending him crashing to the ground. His attacker landed with him, leaping to its feet after a quick roll. Nathanial tried to struggle back up himself but the figure dropped on his chest, one knee pressing painfully down on him and threatening to crack his ribs. One of the unknown assassin's hands went to his neck, resting firmly but not choking. The other hand moved up almost slowly in front of the hooded face and raised a single finger, the universal symbol for silence.

Nathanial stared into the blackness that concealed the face of the person on top of him for a long time. Nowhere could he see any skin, the person was completely covered in dark leather, either a tunic, pants, gloves, or boots. Only its face was hidden by the shadow of the dark brown cloth cloak. He nodded, knowing that, at the moment, his attacker had the advantage.

"Stay here," the attacker whispered, the voice quick and harsh but speaking the tongue of men. "Be silent." Nathanial struggled to learn of the person that had bested him but could tell no more from it.

The weight was lifted from his chest then. Nathanial watched, from the floor, as the figure rose and moved away from him smoothly. He shook his head in surprise, the person that had attacked him was smaller then he was. Shorter and clearly lighter, yet the pressure on his chest had been that of a full grown and well fed man. He picked himself up slowly, warily eyeing the person as they slipped back out of the door to his room.

Nathanial waited a few tense moments then moved as silently as he could to the door. He opened it slowly and peered out, seeing there was no guard outside for the first time since they had arrived. Cautiously, he inched out into the hallway and turned towards Gregory's room. A faint noise from the other direction changed his mind, he turned and walked toward the Prince's room instead, hugging the wall for what little cover it provided.

Bobo's door shut silently as soon as Nathanial rounded the corner. He paused, peering up and down the passageway, before creeping closer and listening carefully at the door. He heard nothing. He reached for the door after several long minutes then jumped back in surprise when it opened in front of him. The image of the stranger flashed through his brain less then a heartbeat before he felt himself suddenly weightless. He crashed into the ground, not even registering the dull ache in his sternum from where he had been punched with two open palms instead of just one. Neither did he register the pain or the sound of his head thudding onto the thinly carpeted stone floor.

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"I told you to stay in your room."

Nathanial groaned as he opened his eyes and let things slowly come into focus. He was not in his room, nor was he still in the hallway. He looked around and saw Gregory, then Bobo, then finally the woman that had bested him. Woman? He did a double take and stared at her.

She was a couple inches shorter than him and a few years older as well, if the lines on her face spoke the truth. Quite attractive, he supposed, except that he had a pounding headache and he knew her to be extremely dangerous. Short blond hair fell shy of her shoulders and framed eyes that had seen more then most people deserved. He sat up slowly, groaning again as he did so.

"What did you hit me with?" He asked, rubbing the bruise on the back of his head.

"My hands, now be quiet and listen," she said curtly.

Nathanial just stared at her in disbelief, refusing to believe someone so small could handle him in such a way. He was no muscle-bound warrior himself, but he still possessed a balance and wiry strength that few in his order could compete against. He shook his head and focused on what she was saying, she already had the attention of his companions.

"I have no idea who that elf is, but she clearly means to keep you prisoner here," she said. "I came here unaware that I would be unable to leave, I was told the barrier would only keep out elves. From watching and listening to you three I take it that you know how to disable the shield and escape this accursed city?"

Bobo nodded, "We were sent here with that goal. Do you know anything of it?"

The woman shook her head. "I do not. I will help you though, for it is the only safe way to escape this place."

"There is an unsafe way?" Gregory asked, more interested then before.

"Aye, there is," she responded, offering no more.

"Wait a minute, who are you and why should we believe you?" Nathanial said, forcing himself to his feet and fighting off the slight nausea he felt while doing so.

"My name is Yamara," she said, fixing a cold stare on him. "You may choose whether you believe me or not, the alternative is being her prisoner until you grow old and die of boredom and inaction."

"I know of you," Bobo said, surprised. Gregory's expression revealed that he too was in shock at meeting her. "What could bring you to a place such as this? Surely you did not need riches, my father would have given you enough to live off of for ten of your lifetimes."

"Your father?" Yamara said, peering at him. She chuckled after a moment. "Yes, that explains it, Alesha and Kelnozz had a child."

"What was that?" Gregory asked, looking around the room wildly. The other three looked to him, wondering what he was talking about, then searched the walls and ceiling of his room as he did. Nothing was amiss.

"I felt... something. Magic, I am sure, but I don't know what it was," he explained.

Yamara cursed. "She can not find me with her spells, but you are not so protected. Quickly, she has trapped us, we must away!"

Bobo looked around, his brow furrowed and his jaw set. He nodded after a moment and followed Yamara to the door. Nathanial moved as soon as he did, not trusting the woman who everyone seemed to know except him, but willing to follow the Prince's lead. Gregory brought up the rear, his wand in his hand and ready for action.

What followed was a mad dash through the halls. The rushed past surprised doguren in the halls several times, Yamara striking out at them if they were close by or otherwise ignoring them as they paused then gave chase. Yamara took them down passages they did not know about, simply because they had always been guided away from them during their captive stay.

"Where are we going?" Bobo called out over their panting as they ran ahead of a growing crowd of doguren.

"To the fountain," Yamara responded, breathing far easier then she had any right to. "So you can do your thing."

On they ran, coming at last down a staircase and out into the courtyard. Between it and them was a company of at least twenty doguren, with a score or more behind them as well. Kalista strode out into the courtyard, the blue glow from the shield overhead reflecting off of her dark skin.

"Good idea," Bobo said under his breath. Yamara sent him a scathing glance but then looked to Kalista as she walked confidently towards them.

"You have been denied my hospitality for to long, my dear," Kalista said, stopping directly in front of her. "Denied me a great many things, I think," she said, her gaze turning cold and murderous.

Yamara returned the ancient sorceresses gaze without flinching, not understanding a word that she said. She said nothing, only matched her stare. Kalista turned away, walking to Bobo and gently running the back of her fingers across his cheek.

"My grandson... a cross between ogre and elf. An abomination, yet perhaps also a sign of great strength. Tell me, Bobocateya Risingmoon, why did you hide this from me? We are flesh and blood, you and I."

Bobo looked at her and saw the lack of warmth in her eyes. Instead there was fury. A cold, dreadful fury that promised a thousand years of punishment for each lie told, real or imagined.

"My father told me you might be here," Bobo said after a moment's thought. "I was warned to be sure of you before revealing myself. Five-thousand years of solitude can do strange things to a person. I had to know if you were mad or not."

Kalista laughed sharply. "Oh, I am mad. Entrapped this long and now finding out that others knew of me here, I am filled with a fury that is well beyond sanity. I will escape this prison and I will take my rightful place at the head of the elves, now that they are one people again, and lead them to the glory that is theirs to be had!"

"What glory is that, grandmother?" Bobo asked her.

"The elves and ogres are a part of this world, we are meant to rule it!" She all but screamed at them.

"The only true ogres that remain are stupid and misshapen, products of the curse of Bavorish from before even your time," Bobo pointed out.

"Yes, grandson, that is true," she said, smiling at him. "And because of that this world shall fall under the control of those who remain to inherit it. The elves shall reign over all!"

"My father will not stand for it," Bobo said calmly, believing full well that his life and that of his companions was doomed.

"Then he will step aside, it is a simple thing." She responded, turning and staring up at the fountain of five metallic dragons. Water gushed from the mouths of the four lesser ones, while the gold was a full fifteen feet taller and stood in the middle of the other four, a magnificent crown upon its head.

"But first you must fetch me that so that we can destroy it," she said sweetly, turning back to him.

She pointed at it and looked to Bobo. "Fetch it for me, child, fetch it for me and you all can live lives of contentment."

"No," he said with a tone of finality.

She stared at him, anger burning fresh in her eyes. "You would deny me? Do you know what I can do to you? To your friends? Do not trifle with me, boy! That you are a bastard relative of mine is no concern, there are greater things at work here!"

"You are right, there are greater things at work here. Knowing your plans keeping you imprisoned here, though it costs us our lives and our freedom, is a price I will gladly pay. My father would do the same, I think," Bobo said, steeling himself for her retribution.

She ground her teeth and glared at him with such hatred that Bobo could feel the magic within her begin to rise. He was ready for the agony of it stripping his flesh from his bones. It could be no worse then the pain he had endured when he lost his arm, he kept telling himself, and having survived that he could endure anything.

I will go.

Bobo turned to Yamara, who had spoken, and gasped. "No Yamara, I know what you fought for beside my father and mother, this would be throwing that away and letting darkness anew into the world!"

Yamara turned and looked at him, while Kalista watched with eyes that were suspicious and also afraid. Yamara's words had not been spoken, yet she had heard them and understood them. She gathered her magic about her and prepared a spell, ready to strike down instantly at anyone that would come against her.

I know what you speak of, Prince. You should shield your thoughts, for they are easy to read, she said. If you must deny her then feel free to do so with all your heart, I would rather be free of this place first.

He growled and raised up his musket barreled arm at her, reaching across to pull back the hammers with his other hand. "Do no such thing, Yamara."

Behind them Gregory and Nathanial were staring at Yamara in shock. Gregory's was even more apparent for try as he might he could sense no magic about the woman, yet she had to be using it to use such telepathy.

Kalista waved her hand at Bobo and uttered a rapid series of arcane syllables, leaving him suddenly paralyzed in place. You are free to do as you will, my dear. Kalista thought, correctly assuming Yamara could read her unshielded thoughts.

Yamara looked at Bobo for a long moment, hesitating. Then she made up her mind and nodded to herself. She turned to Kalista and smiled coldly, then walked forward. As she passed Kalista she turned her head away from the elf and looked back at Bobo, Gregory and Nathan. Bobo's head remained frozen looking at where she had been standing, but nonetheless she sent a quick wink their way.

Ahead of Yamara the doguren parted, creating a passage through their ranks towards the fountain. She walked towards it without pause, not stopping until she stood some twenty feet distant from the base of it. She stared up at it for several long minutes, studying it carefully.

---

Finally she approached it, walking three steps before something stopped her. She grunted as she came to a rest. She reached out in front of her and pushed her hands against what appeared to be an invisible wall in front of her. Frowning, she pulled her gloves off and placed the naked skin of her hands against it, gasping in surprise when they met no resistance until the bracers on her were suddenly stopped.

Eyes wide in sudden realization, Yamara hurriedly began taking off her clothing. Soon she stood with a pile of clothing at her feet and wore nothing save a large ruby pendant with a spark of light within it on simple leather cord around her neck. She reached up with her right hand and clutched it tightly in the valley of her breasts. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, unhindered in the least by the wall that had stopped her moments before.

Nathanial and Gregory watched in aroused fascination as Yamara had done something that seemed not only out of character, but totally inappropriate. Gregory was even more amazed that, for a human woman who must have been in her fifties or sixties, she looked as good as she did. Even her face was barely that of a thirty year old. The human aging condition was something he was more and more familiar with since he had spent almost two decades among elves.

"Interesting woman," Kalista said to herself, but knowing Bobo at least could hear and understand her. "I do not know her talents, but perhaps I can use her. I may need a fitting general."

Yamara stepped into the knee deep water of the fountain, noting that it was slightly cool to the touch but not the least bit uncomfortable. Then she was at the base of the fountain. In front of her, rose a copper dragon. To its right was the silver and the left was a bronze. She studied it carefully then stepped up to it and stretched out her arms above her head. She flexed her knees and jumped, soaring at least eight feet into the air and grabbing on to the hind leg of the dragon where it branched from the body. She hauled herself up on it, obscenely displaying herself to those on the ground on several occasions as she nimbly scaled up the dragon's body.

In no time she had reached the top of the copper dragon and stood well balanced on its shoulders. She studied the gold dragon as it rose above her for a moment, judging distances, then she leapt from the copper's back and landed on the gold's back where the wings joined the body. Nathanial found himself gasping at the acrobatic maneuver, certain she would slip and fall. He underestimated her greatly.

A few more tense minutes and she had managed to climb up the sinuous neck of the gold dragon. She hung under it, her legs and arms wrapped around the neck, and stared at the bottom of the head of it. Such detail went into its carving she almost believed a real dragon had been turned to gold and set before her. Almost, save that she knew the dragons were surrounded by a powerful wall of anti-magic that would let nothing remotely magic through it. That was why she had stripped off her clothing, virtually everything she possessed had some touch of magic to it. The ruby was her gift from Brina. It was not magic though, it was something else altogether.

Yamara inched out the final distance to the head and carefully reached up and around the head with her left arm until she felt the crown against her fingers. It was warm to the touch, warmer then the dragon on which she clung. She took a deep breath and tugged at it, lifting it off the dragon easily. To easily. Yamara looked beneath her, suddenly nervous. She wanted the quickest way down she could find. Her desire increased exponentially when she felt the neck of the dragon between her legs and arms suddenly grow warm.

Continued in Chapter 10

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