Shadow of the Crown Read online

  His presumption led him to his next train of thought, for why would such a person be interested in him? His master, Andronicus, had not completed his apprenticeship before the old fellow had succumbed to death. Now, he wondered if the demise of his mentor had been natural after all. Was it a necromancer that had slain him? He knew they had ways of carrying out their objectives without detection, but little more.

  In Weldwyn, they had concluded that warriors bane was the ingredient used in two poisonings. Could Andronicus have been killed in a similar manner? He thought back to the old mage's final words. The man had been out of his mind, surely not the symptoms of warriors bane, though he couldn't rule out a different poison.

  Revi had to accept that at least he was alive, for now. If his captor wanted something, he would find out eventually. He must bide his time, try to gain what rest he could, and wait for the effects of the magebane to wear off.

  * * *

  A rattling of keys pulled him from his musings, and then the door opened, flooding the room with light. Revi blinked his eyes, letting them adjust. The outline of a person blocked most of the doorway, but beyond, he saw a curved hallway with steps leading up and down.

  "I see you've awoken." The woman's voice broke through the silence of his prison. She stepped into the room, placing her candle holder onto the worktable, casting a flickering light throughout the tiny chamber. Revi twisted in a vain effort to make out her features, but the cage kept him still.

  "You're an enigma," the woman announced. "You're barely trained, and yet you exhibit sparks of inspiration. One moment you're scarcely able to cast a simple healing spell, the next you're the close confidante of the princess. Or at least, you were. That particular chapter of your life has been closed."

  "Why am I here?" Revi demanded.

  "Why, indeed?" she mused.

  He heard her fumbling around at the work table, seeking something, but his close quarters prevented him from seeing any details. Suddenly, her face loomed in front of him as she stepped from behind the cage. He instantly recognized her features; Lady Penelope Cromwell, mistress to King Andred, the late King of Merceria. She stared back at him for a moment as if sizing him up.

  "You have something I want," she said at last.

  "What could I possibly have that would be of value to you?" he responded. "I have little in the way of belongings."

  "Foolish boy," she said. "It is not your possessions I covet; it's the location of the tower. Give it to me, and I will allow you to live."

  Revi was confused, surely everyone knew of his tower. "It's in town," he replied, "I'm surprised you didn't know."

  "Don't play games with me, Master Bloom. It is the tower of Andronicus of which I speak."

  Now everything fell into place. Andronicus had told him of a tower but had died before revealing its location. He was about to say as much, then checked himself; the only thing keeping him alive was knowledge he didn't possess. If he were to reveal his ignorance, his life would be forfeit.

  "I shall not divulge it," he stated.

  A look of anger exploded on Penelope's face. "How dare you refuse me," she said. "I could have you killed for that."

  "Then kill me," Revi retorted, "and you'll never know its location."

  "You are too smart for your own good, Life Mage. You seem to forget, some of your companions are still alive, under lock and key. Will you be so glib, I wonder, when I haul them up here and start killing them?"

  Revi remained calm, he had expected as much, but at least now he knew at least some of his friends were still alive. "I hadn't thought of that," he replied. He must buy time, let her think she was making progress, "I shall consider your words."

  Lady Penelope stood there staring at him. Revi stared back, noticing she didn't blink.

  "Very well," she said at last, "I shall give you some more time to consider your circumstances."

  She disappeared from his view, and then he heard her at the workbench. She appeared a moment later, a small vial in her hand.

  "Before I go, you must drink this; we can't have your magic returning."

  "I'd love to oblige," replied Revi, "but I can't move. I'm afraid I'll have to decline the kind offer."

  Penelope's face broke into a wicked grin, "A minor inconvenience, soon remedied."

  She moved behind him. He heard the rattling of chains just before he felt his cage lifted on one end while the other dropped, leaving him lying on his side. A hand reached through the bars to hold something beneath his nose. His immediate reaction was to cough, but as he did so, she poured the contents of the vial into his mouth and pinched his nose.

  He coughed and sputtered, but the damage was done; the harsh liquid found its way down his throat.

  "See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

  A knock at the door interrupted her, and she turned in irritation.

  "What is it?" she yelled.

  "News, my lady," came the reply.

  She wheeled back to face the young mage, "I'll come back and check on you later; it seems I have more pressing affairs that need my attention."

  "I'll be here," promised Revi, "though if you're coming back, I'd appreciate some food."

  Penelope glared at him before turning to the door, which opened to reveal a member of the Royal Guard. She exited the room, closing and locking the door behind her, but the candle still burned on the workbench, illuminating all within.

  Revi strained to listen, as the voices rose in the hallway.

  "Spit it out, man," she hissed.

  "There's some trouble, my lady. One of the princess's entourage is unaccounted for."

  "Who?" she demanded.

  "The captain of her guard."

  "Fools," she fumed, "no one was to escape. Search the city, leave no stone unturned, and seal the gates. No one goes in or out until he's found."

  "Yes, my lady," replied the man.

  Revi heard their footsteps receding. It appeared not all of his friends had been captured!

  Four

  Arnim In Danger

  Summer 961 MC

  Feet moving, the sound of drawn steel, shouting...

  Sir Arnim Caster, Knight of the Hound and Captain of Princess Anna's Bodyguard, opened his eyes, the sounds of his capture still echoing through his mind. He was lying in a bed, its rough sheets draped across him. The sound of street hawkers could be heard in the distance.

  Looking up, he noticed the ceiling was old and yellowed with age. His eyes scanned his surroundings, trying to determine where he was holed up. The room was small, barely large enough to hold the bed and a small fireplace. The arched ceiling sat above a window at one end, from which the sounds of the street entered, while the other end had a door. Without warning, an arm came out of nowhere, and then a cold compress was placed upon his brow. He struggled to focus as someone loomed over him.

  Lady Nicole Arendale's face hove into view, but something didn't look right. He concentrated all his efforts on the task. Her face finally snapped into sharp relief, and his mind struggled to understand what he saw. She gazed down at him with a concerned look in her eyes.

  Arnim blinked, willing the fog to leave his embattled mind. He remembered the shouts, the feeling of losing control of his limbs. They were all gathered about the great hall as the king made speeches, then, one by one, all the Knights of the Hound began to fall. Treachery!

  He pulled his mind back to Nicole. She had re-applied the compress, and he was struck by her paleness. She was wearing a simple dress, but he noticed where blood soaked through the sleeve on one arm.

  "What happened," he croaked out.

  "You must rest, Arnim," she soothed. "You've been drugged. It'll likely be some time before it completely wears off."

  He struggled to rise, but Nicole placed her hand on his chest to stop him. "The princess?" he asked.

  "They're all gone," she answered. "I could only save you. Now you must sleep, I'll be in later to check in on you."

  She rose from the edge
of the bed, making her way to the door.

  "Wait," he called out, "you must tell me, what happened?"

  Without answering, Lady Nicole Arendale exited the room, closing the door behind her.

  Arnim tried to focus his mind, but his thoughts kept straying, random memories drifting in and out. He closed his eyes. Perhaps she was right, he mused, sleep might clear his head. Someone whispering in the hall forestalled any chance he had for slumber. That, and his curiosity.

  "You shouldn't have brought him here, Nik," a man said. "They'll be looking for him."

  "Where else could I go, Harry?" she asked. "I had no one else to help, and you owe me."

  "Calm down, Nikki," responded Harry. "I didn't say he couldn't hide here, but I don't have to like it."

  "Thank you, Harry."

  "Don't thank me yet; you're in bad shape. How's our guest?"

  "He's resting. The drugs haven't worn off yet."

  "Saxnor's beard, how much of the stuff did they give him?"

  "Far too much, I'm afraid; I believe it was in the wine."

  "Lucky for you, you weren't drinking."

  "I'm not sure lucky is the word I'd use."

  "Get some rest, Nik, I'll take care of our guest."

  The sound of the door opening was enough to convince Arnim to open his eyes again. He watched the man enter. There was something about him, something familiar, but he struggled to pull the memories from his drug-addled mind.

  "I see you're awake," the man said.

  "Who?" stammered Arnim, struggling to find the words.

  "I'm Harry," the man responded. "We don't use last names around here. I suppose you're wondering where you are?"

  Arnim nodded.

  "You're nowhere; that is to say, you're in a building in the slums. It's best you don't know the actual address for now."

  "How did I get here?"

  "Nikki and I brought you here," he said, "but, only the Gods know how she got you out of the Palace in the first place."

  Arnim's head was beginning to clear. "Why would she do that?"

  "You honestly don't know?" Harry challenged. "I find that difficult to believe.'

  "I know you," said Arnim, "your face is familiar. Give me a moment."

  His host waited, a smirk growing on his face.

  "You're Handsome Harry," he said. "You ran with the Maitland Street Runners years ago."

  "I'm flattered you remember me," Harry responded.

  "You're a con-man; what's your game here? You don't do anything without an angle."

  "Hard as it is for someone like you to understand, even con-men have friends. I've known Nikki for many years. She asked me for help."

  "Listen," said Arnim, "I'm trying to make sense of all this. How did I end up here? I remember being at the Palace; there was a welcome home feast in honour of the princess. After that, none of it makes sense."

  "You were drugged," Harry responded, "all of you. Nikki was nursing a cold, so she decided not to drink, likely saving your life. When your friends started collapsing, she somehow managed to get you out."

  "They didn't stop her?" he asked.

  "They most certainly tried, but they don't call her Nikki the Knife for nothing. I'm not sure how many she killed, but she's likely got a death sentence on her now, thanks to you. She fought off guards, dragged you through the sewers to escape. I still don't understand how she managed that with the wound she suffered."

  "Her arm," said Arnim, now understanding.

  "More than that," added Harry, "she took a deep cut. Running through the sewers didn't help. The wound is festering, but we've no healer here to help. I'm afraid there's little I can do for her, she'll likely lose her arm, but she insisted on staying by your side while you slept."

  "Why would she do that?" asked Arnim, his mind working hard to digest all this new information.

  "You, of all people, should know that," said Harry. "Now get some rest, you look like death warmed over."

  * * *

  With a start, Arnim awoke to the sound of fists rapping on doors.

  "Open up, in the name of the king!" the voice echoed from down the street through the open window.

  He ran to the window; soldiers were marching along the lane, peeling off, two by two, knocking on doors and searching each hovel. He watched as they came closer, and knew it wouldn't be long before they were at the very house he was in. Making his way into the hallway, he heard scurrying about downstairs and started down, only to stop as somebody came up; it was Harry.

  "The guards are coming," he announced. "You need to hide."

  "I saw them," replied Arnim. "Where's Nikki?"

  "Back up the stairs, second door on the right. You have to hurry; if they find you here, it'll be the death of us all."

  Arnim turned, making his way to her room. The door opened to reveal a space much like his own. Nikki lay in the bed, but if he hoped they could make a quick getaway, he was sorely disappointed. She was tossing and turning, the nightshirt clinging to her sweat covered body.

  Shouting erupted from downstairs, and Arnim heard Harry yelling back at the soldiers. He must get Nikki out of here as quickly as possible. He walked over to the window, opening the shutters to reveal an angled tiled rooftop. He poked his head outside to look around at his options. The street below was flooded by troops, but thankfully, they were all occupied with searching inside the houses, not the roofs.

  He returned to Nikki, lifting her under the legs and back, clasping her to his body. He thought of wrapping her in a blanket, but the sound of the door crashing downstairs girded him into action. To the window he went, throwing the shutters wide open, allowing him unfettered access. He stepped outside, onto the tilted roof, careful to test his footing before transferring his weight. With Nikki in his arms, he struggled to steady himself. Moving to the side of the window, he began slowly making his way toward the peak of the roof.

  Nikki mumbled something, but he didn't have time to listen. Almost at his destination, his foot slipped on a tile, and he crashed to his knee, causing pain to shoot up his leg. He struggled to maintain his balance, clutching her tightly, desperately praying to Saxnor for their safety.

  Taking a deep breath, he heaved himself back up, and continued climbing, his bare feet gripping the tiles for all he was worth. He had initially planned to hide on the reverse side of the roof, but as he crested the roof-line, he saw soldiers on the next street over. He silently cursed and turned back to the window. The peak of the dormer was lower than the top of the building. He manoeuvred his way so that he straddled it, sitting down, his legs splayed to either side of the structure.

  More shouts emanated from deep within, and then a man yelled from the window beneath them. Another soldier returned his call from the street below; Arnim leaned back as far as he could, hoping he wasn't visible. They were tossing the place; he heard furniture scraping across floors and things being broken, more shouting and then finally the voices began to recede.

  He looked down at Nikki, her pale skin covered in sweat. He tried to comfort her, held her close to him, but all he could feel was the fever that burned through her body.

  "You can make it, Nikki," he soothed, keeping his voice as low as possible. "I thought I was over you, but I was wrong."

  She muttered something, and he put his ear to her mouth, but nothing more escaped.

  "What happened, Nikki? After everything we've been through, why did you save my life?" he implored.

  * * *

  It felt like they sat on the rooftop for ages. Arnim's knees ached, while his arms, holding Nikki, were numb. He was only keeping her safe through sheer willpower.

  Finally, Harry appeared at the window, calling out in a quiet voice. "Where are you? They're gone now."

  Arnim rose, coming carefully down the tiled roof to the window. Harry took Nikki, laying her gently on the bed as the knight climbed back in.

  "She's not looking good, Harry."

  Harry shrugged, "I'm open to suggestions."
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  "Can I trust you?" Arnim asked.

  "It's a little late to be asking that, don't you think?"

  "There's another knight, a former ranger. She knows how to apply warriors moss; she helped when the princess was wounded in Weldwyn."

  "What are you suggesting?"

  "If I can send word to her, she might be able to help. She could pick up some moss at the herbalist and meet us somewhere, then we would bring her back here."

  "Do you know where this knight is?" asked Harry.

  "She's staying at her uncle's farm, just outside of town. Her name's Hayley Chambers. I seem to recall the uncle was on her father's side."

  "I see what you're getting at. I can arrange for a messenger to travel to the Chambers farm. You write it down, and I'll see it delivered."

  "Any idea how long it would take?"

  "I can't say. I need to find someone trustworthy," explained Harry, "and with the price on your heads, that will be difficult."

  "You have to find someone, Harry, it's our only chance. Get me some ink and paper, and I'll write a note."

  "I hope this works, Arnim. Nikki's life is on the line."

  "You don't have to remind me," replied the knight, rather testily.

  Harry left to get the supplies while Arnim thought over his message.

  Five

  Anna's Escape

  Summer 961 MC

  Anna stared down at Gerald. She had manoeuvred him until he lay in a fetal position, his breathing shallow, but alive. She had hoped it would at least give him some warmth against the cold stone floor, but the reality was it made little difference. She sat there, next to him, watching her closest friend bleeding to death from scores of cuts, and there was nothing she could do about it.