Shadow of the Crown Read online

  And so it begins…

  Harry Hathaway headed down the street, a silver necklace dangling from his fingers. As he walked, he examined it, talking to himself.

  "Not bad, Handsome Harry, you old rogue. There isn't a woman alive who can resist your charms."

  He turned up the side street, dropping the necklace into a small pouch, then withdrew a slender key. He had stopped at a door, ready to unlock it when he thought he detected a faint hissing noise. He paused, the key only partly inserted, listening intently.

  Again the sound issued forth, and then a voice whispered, "Harry!"

  "Who's there?" he cried out, his voice echoing down the street.

  "It's me, Harry," came a familiar voice.

  "You'll have to be a little more specific," he replied. "I know a lot of 'me's'."

  "It's me, Nikki, Nikki the Knife."

  "Nik?" he responded in surprise. "You've been gone a long time Nik, we all thought you were dead."

  He moved toward the voice and was suddenly conscious of a stench that permeated his surroundings. "What's that smell?"

  "I had to escape through the sewers, Harry; they'll kill me if they catch me."

  Nicole stepped out of the darkness.

  "By the gods, Nik, you look as bad as you smell. Who's after you? Did you upset another gang boss?"

  "No, Harry," she replied, "it's much more serious than that. Can you help me or not?"

  "Of course, come inside, and we'll get you cleaned up."

  "No," she insisted, "I need you to come with me."

  "Where are we going?"

  "I have someone stashed nearby, but we must hurry before he's discovered."

  "You intrigue me, Nikki. Lead on."

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  Shadow of the Crown

  Heir to the Crown: Book Four

  Paul J Bennett

  Contents

  1. The Banquet

  2. Anna

  3. Revi

  4. Arnim In Danger

  5. Anna's Escape

  6. The Smith

  7. The Message

  8. The Escaping Mage

  9. The Rendezvous

  10. Escaping Wincaster

  11. On the Run

  12. The Race South

  13. The Forest of Mist

  14. The Great Swamp

  15. Bodden

  16. Imprisoned

  17. Lucky Charm

  18. The Secret of the Gates

  19. Unlikely Allies

  20. The Darkwood

  21. Refuge

  22. Queenstown

  23. Summersgate

  24. Middenfield

  25. To Battle

  26. Nikki

  27. The Long March

  28. The Banquet

  29. Opening Moves

  30. The Battle

  31. Alric

  32. Aftermath

  33. Celebration

  Epilogue

  Map of Merceria

  Map of Weldwyn

  How to get Battle at the River for free

  Also by Paul J Bennett

  A few words from Paul

  About the Author

  One

  The Banquet

  Summer 961 MC (Mercerian Calendar)

  Lady Nicole Arendale let out a tremendous sneeze, belatedly covering her nose with her kerchief. Mortified, she glanced around the room, only to realize no one had taken notice. Instead, those in attendance were digging into the succulent meal and toasting the newly returned Princess Anna.

  It was difficult for the Lady-In-Waiting to come to grips with her present situation. Over a year ago, she had been recruited to join the entourage of the young Princess Anna, daughter of the late King Andred IV of Merceria. After spending months travelling through Weldwyn, which lay to the west, they had returned to the welcoming arms of the princess's brother, King Henry, recently crowned after the death of his father. So here she sat, released from the princess's service, yet unable to leave, lest her true master discover her dismissal.

  Her eyes refocused, looking across the table to take notice of Sir Barnsley, one of the princess's knights, passed out in his chair. Dame Abigail, another knight of the Order of the Hound, sat nearby mocking the slumbering man's condition.

  Nicole swept her gaze farther up the table to Princess Anna herself. She appeared tired while listening to her brother, let out a big yawn and then fell face first onto the table. This behaviour elicited a collective gasp from the crowd, and out of the corner of her eye, Nicole perceived a number of soldiers moving forward.

  Now Dame Abigail was down, and then Nicole noticed that all of the princess's entourage were dropping like flies; she looked to her tankard, which sat, untasted, on the table before her.

  From across the room, there was a yell of alarm as Dame Beverly tried to stand, only to fall weakly back into her chair. Strong arms gripped the red-headed knight, holding her firmly in place, until her head nodded forward, her chin coming to rest on her chest.

  Nicole was worried; somebody had orchestrated the poisoning of the entire diplomatic entourage. As a member herself, she was most likely an intended victim. Desperate to avoid detection, she let out an exaggerated yawn and fell forward onto the table, keeping her eyes open barely enough to see around her.

  Soldiers lifted the princess from her seat, along with the old warrior who usually sat to her side. Nicole was prepared to run, to rush from the room and save herself should an opportunity occur, but before such a chance came, she felt hands on her shoulders.

  Firm hands gripped her arms, preparing to lift her, but a voice sailed across the room, "Not her, she's one of Valmar's."

  Released, she fell back into the seat, eyes now squeezed shut, but still listening intently. A woman's voice rang out, one that she recognized as that of Lady Penelope Cromwell, the previous king's mistress.

  "To the dungeons with them," she commanded. "Henry," she continued, "have them kept separate from each other, we don't want them conspiring."

  Nicole felt a hand grip her face, lifting her chin and tilting her head back. She kept her eyes closed, still intent on playing her part. A stinging slap brought her eyes wide open. Marshal-General Roland Valmar, Duke of Eastwood, stood over her, his hand preparing for another strike. He waited while her eyes focused and then delivered the expected blow.

  "You've performed your services adequately," he said, dropping a small bag of coins into her lap. "You are no longer of any use to me. Take your coins and disappear. If I ever set eyes on you again, it'll be the end of you."

  She looked down at the purse, grabbing it and clutching it to her chest. It was more than she had expected for this particular job; even surviving was miraculous, but still, it felt wrong, being a part of what had transpired here this evening. She raised her face again to look at Valmar, to ask what was going to happen to them, but another stinging slap knocked her from her chair.

  "Begone, harlot," he commanded, "or I'll give you even more marks across your back."

  Nicole rose from the ground, her body shaking with fear. Valmar was not a man to be trifled with; the scars on her back were a constant reminder of that. Lowering her eyes, lest she provoke him further, she hustled from the room, avoiding the Royal Guards as they disarmed the fallen knights before pulling them from their seats. Nicole had to stop at the door to make way for two soldiers carrying an unconscious Dame Levina through the doorway.

  She fled down the hallway, concerned only with escaping before Valmar changed his mind, finally halting to compose herself after weaving through the twisted halls of the Palace. She leaned back against a wall, looking to the ceiling for inspiration but it was all for naught. She shook her hands, trying somehow, to rid herself of any feeling of responsibility that lingered. Looking around, she found herself in a hallway, somewhere in the Palace, though in her haste to escape she had paid no attention to where she was going.

  Footsteps approached from the end of the hallway, and her heart nearly burst from her chest. Spotting a door opposite, she pushed it open, revealing a small sleeping chamber. She squeezed through the doorway, closing the door behind her until it was only open a sliver. She peered out, watching as the noises drew closer. The heavy footfalls of the soldiers moved past the door, a body hanging between them, likely one of the Knights of the Hound.

  'I must stay here,' she thought, 'there is nothing I can do now.'

  As she turned to plan her own escape, she noticed the unconscious knight was none other than Sir Arnim Caster; her Arnim!

  Before Nicole even knew what she was doing, she stepped from the room, hoisted her skirt and pulled the slim dagger from her garter. It took only three steps to close the distance and then she drove the knife into the neck of one of the soldiers. Her victim collapsed almost instantly, while Sir Arnim, now bereft of one of his supporters, crashed to the floor.

  The second soldier cursed as his burden dropped. He looked to his right in astonishment when his companion fell to the floor alongside their prisoner. Nicole struck again with the dagger, this time slicing across the remaining guard'
s arm, but the chainmail links easily deflected the blade. He jumped back, drawing his sword as he did so, ready for her next attack.

  Nicole leaned forward, attempting to stab him in the gut, but the soldier agilely twisted aside, his sword opening a huge gash on her right arm, causing the knife to tumble from her hand. She stumbled back, falling to the floor as her feet became entangled with the bodies on the ground. The soldier loomed over her as she scrambled to extricate herself, her hands searching left and right, struggling for support.

  She kicked out violently at the man's groin. At the moment of impact, she watched his eyes bulge in agony as he bent over, grabbing himself. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she found her dagger, sat up and sliced it across the guard's throat. The wounded man grabbed his neck with both hands in a hopeless gesture to stem the flow of blood. She rolled to the side to avoid being pinned beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, gurgling.

  Nicole looked up and down the hallway, but no one came running. She knew it was only a matter of time before somebody discovered the dead guards, so she moved quickly to inspect Arnim. He lay in a heap on the floor, his drugged state making him unaware of his surroundings.

  Rolling him over, she grabbed him under the armpits and began dragging him. It was at this moment that she remembered the wound to her arm, for he was heavy and the cut throbbed painfully. Knowing she couldn't get far, she made for the closest room, leaning him against the wall while she examined the door. Thanking Saxnor it was not locked, she opened it to peer into a small room, seeing a bench seat with a hole in it, obviously a garderobe. Turning around, she grabbed Arnim and dragged him into the small confines, closing the door behind them.

  Raised on the streets, she knew if she could only get them to the slums they would be safe enough, at least for now. The biggest question was how to get safely out of the Palace. Her time was limited; once the bodies were found, the search would be on. Inspecting the wooden seat before her, she lifted the lid to look into the space below. It was full of Human waste, but it was still big enough for them to hide in.

  Nicole looked back to the fallen Knight of the Hound and made up her mind. Arnim was a toughened warrior; it would be hard to carry him and his armour too. She began undoing the straps of his chainmail, the better to lighten the load.

  The armour dropped down into the filth, making a splash as it hit bottom. It appeared the sewage here was not as deep as it looked, and she silently thanked the Gods. Dragging him over the hole, she lowered him as best she could, holding his arms as his feet touched bottom, then she let go, his body splashing into the muck as he landed. She quickly climbed down through the hole, replacing the wooden seat, and dropped down beside him, grabbing him lest he fall over and drown.

  The smell was overwhelming, even with her cold, and she silently thanked Saxnor for her stuffed nose. It was dark, far darker than she would have imagined. She felt around the edge of the pit seeking a hatch or doorway; surely someone had to clean out this area from time to time.

  Pausing in her efforts to catch her breath, she heard the sound of running water. Drawn by the noise, she followed it with her hands until encountering a metal grate on the far wall. It ran from the floor, halfway up the wall and she realized it must lead to the sewer. She tried pushing and pulling, but it didn't budge. Running her fingers along the edges, she discovered a padlock.

  Nicole's mind raced as she tried to think things through. First, she must free up her legs, and to do that she took her dagger and began cutting away at the hem of her dress. Once free of the cumbersome attire, she tossed the rags aside and reached for her right garter. Here, in a small leather pouch, lay her lock picking tools. Opening it carefully, she withdrew a slender pick but cursed as she nearly dropped it when her injured arm throbbed with pain. Grasping it more firmly, she reached through the grate and inserted the pick, twisting it to unlock the tumblers.

  Sitting in the dark, it seemed to take forever, and she feared it might never succumb to her ministrations. An unexpected sound from above froze her. Someone opened the door to the privy, and then there were two voices, likely guards, and she held her breath. It was only a moment before they left, slamming the door shut behind them, but it felt as though her heart had stopped.

  Nicole gathered her breath, the stench in her nostrils making it difficult not to gag. A few more twists of the pick and then a satisfying click indicated her success. The lock popped open, and then she reached through to unclasp it, pushing the grate away from her. She poked her head through, but the darkness still loomed; she could see nothing.

  The task of moving Arnim was difficult. First, she had to position him so she could crawl past, and then grab him under the arms and pull him through, all the while coated in filth which lent a slipperiness to the whole procedure. By the end, the two of them were covered head to toe in sludge. With the two of them on the other side, she closed the grate, ensuring she clicked the lock shut.

  She had done it, escaped the Palace, only to find herself still a prisoner in complete darkness. She tried to stand up but cracked her head painfully on the overhead bricks. Here, the sewer was short, not even tall enough for a man to stand, and she wondered who serviced these tunnels. A skittering sound echoed from the distance, and her first instinct was to discount it as rats. Were there other creatures that lived in the sewers? She doubted it, but one could never be entirely sure.

  This tunnel ran in two directions, and Nicole had no idea of her bearings, but growing up in the slums in the capital, she knew safety lay to the south. She thought back to her escape. The great hall that housed the banquet had doors leading east and west. At the feast, she had been sitting by the western wall, and then her flight from the dinner had taken her into the western wing of the Palace. She reasoned that the privy was on the same end of the Palace, so this tunnel likely ran north-south. If this was true, it meant that after exiting through the grate she had only to turn left, and they would logically be heading south.

  She found the grate once again and double-checked her bearings before proceeding on her way. It was a painstaking process; the tunnels were slippery, and she had to drag a full grown man. The lack of light here, combined with the low ceiling, made the effort all the more difficult.

  She was sure there would be a call of alarm and half expected soldiers to descend into the sewers with lanterns, but none arrived. All of a sudden, she felt a slight breeze and then saw a faint light coming from above; a sewer cover. It was a simple metal grate with moonlight drifting through, illuminating the close confines of the tunnel. She laid Arnim down carefully and pressed her face to the cover. Hearing no sound, she lifted the grate, standing straight up, her back protesting. Her head was just above the level of the road, poking out of the hole. She glanced around, seeing the moonlight glinting off shop windows in the unlit streets. In front of a business nearby she could just make out a hanging sign in the shape of a boar's head.

  It was all Nicole needed, for the Boars Head was a well-known tavern within the city. She had made more progress than she realized, though she had little concept for how much time had passed. The sewers didn't run all the way to the slums; in that part of the city sewage was dumped, raw, into the streets. She resolved to travel south as far she could using the tunnels, and then find somewhere to stash Arnim until she returned with help.

  By the time the early morning light began to trickle down, she had come to the end of the line. The sewer here was so tight she had to crawl, dragging Arnim by the arm. Pushing the grate aside, she emerged in front of an abandoned candle shop, looking around nervously. The street appeared completely empty, thank Saxnor.