Seer of Souls (The Spirit Shield Saga Book 1) Page 26

  She marched up to the table, interrupting their conversation. The others fell silent at her approach, studying her closely, but Ryder jumped to his feet and moved quickly to embrace her. “Ziona! It’s great to see you! Where is Cayden?” She glanced back at his companions and frowned. “It’s OK, Ziona. These are friends, Kingsmen of old.”

  “I need to speak privately, away from sharp ears. Is there such a place?” she asked of the men at the table.

  Nelson stood up. “You may use the private library, my lady. This way please.”

  They all rose and Ziona followed Nelson to a comfortably furnished room off of the common room with padded chairs and shelves lined with books.

  Ziona’s companions remained standing, taking up positions to watch the door and the windows of the room. Two remained in the hallway to make sure they were not approached.

  Denzik walked up to Tobias and stared him directly in the eye. Tobias never blinked. “Tobias Townsend. I never thought to see you alive.”

  Tobias’s face broke into a grin. “It’s good to see you too, sir!” He saluted the old general.

  “You would be a Primordial Seeker…unless I miss my mark.” Denzik said to Ziona. “I assume you are the one who has been assisting Cayden?”

  “That is correct. Ryder has told you about Cayden? Or at least what he understands of Cayden?”

  Denzik nodded.

  “Cayden has been captured. He is being held in the prisoner cells of the castle as we speak.” The blunt words galvanized the men, who were beginning to seat themselves. They shot back to their feet, all speaking at once.

  Ziona held up her hands to quiet them. “Cayden is fine, at least as fine as he can be. We have formed…a special connection. I can sense what is happening to him. He is fine for the moment. I do not believe they are certain who he is or he would already be dead. We must reach him without delay. I can lead you directly to him.”

  “We have been preparing and planning for this moment for seventeen years, my lady. I assume you have acquired a following during your journeys?” Denzik nodded to the men standing guard.

  “Yes, Cayden has managed to attract a large group of former Kingsmen, who have sworn allegiance to him. They are a few hours back, camped out of sight and waiting for our command.”

  Nelson nodded as did Fabian.

  “Gentlemen, ladies, I believe it’s time to implement our plan.” Denzik walked over to the desk located under the window and pulled a small key from his pocket. Fitting key to lock, he opened the long flat drawer slid under the desktop. Inside were several long rolled scrolls, which he gathered up and brought over to the reading table in the center of the room. Everyone gathered around to view the scrolls.

  Denzik selected one and then carefully unrolled it to show what appeared to be a maze of twisting lines that intersected in unpredictable ways.

  “This is a map of the underground tunnel systems of Castle Cathair. This, my friends, is how we are going to retake the castle and drive out the queen forever. I would like you to go back to your respective camps and gather the ten most trusted men or ladies from your established captains. We need to familiarize them with the plan and move our troops into position. All the supplies we need are already in place for this attack.

  “We are waiting for the heir to arrive and his men to gather. I must say, you both have done a fine job in pulling in the men. Our eyes and ears report that Kingsmen are streaming toward the capital in various disguises. Fabian, here”—he nodded at the plump baker—“has set up a series of distractions inside the castle itself and Nelson”—he nodded to the innkeeper—“will be redirecting the forces as they arrive into the tunnels.”

  At Ziona’s look of confusion, Denzik quickly brought her up to speed about the tunnels dug between the river and the castle foundations. Impressive that they planned and implemented such a grand design over the years, based on nothing but their belief that the king would return, Ziona thought. They grinned at her surprised stare. “Very resourceful, gentlemen, I have to wonder who set these plans in place.” She raised an eyebrow enquiringly, but the men all shook their heads refusing to speak of it.

  “Meet back here in six hours with your captains.”

  Chapter 49

  A BUCKET OF ICY WATER emptying over his prone form jolted Cayden awake. Gasping, he blinked his eyes and squinted against the sudden glare of the lantern held above him. The guard kicked Cayden in the ribs, and he cried out.

  Cayden tried to clutch his stomach but, of course, this was impossible as his arms were still tied behind his back. He attempted to curl into a tighter ball, but then he felt a sharp knife slip between his wrists and ankles, slicing through the ropes holding him captive. He groaned as he rolled onto his stomach and moved his fingers and toes, trying to restore their circulation.

  The guard reached down and hauled him to his feet by his hair. Cayden cried out again and then his eyes fell on the man holding the lantern. He was a tall steely-eyed man with short cropped hair and a grey goatee trimmed to a sharp point below his equally pointed chin.

  “Lord Cyrus, this is the prisoner, my lord. He is awake now as ordered.”

  Cayden found his legs were weak after two days bound hand and foot. He wobbled and very nearly collapsed back onto the stone floor, but the guard’s tight grip on his hair kept him upright. A spikey prickling ran from his feet and up through his legs as he put weight on his limbs. He was glad of the distracting pain on his scalp as the returning blood made his extremities burn.

  The lord walked around Cayden, examining him. “I am to believe this skinny boy is to be feared? This poor farmer is the great prophesied threat to my queen’s reign?” He stopped in front of Cayden and addressed him. “What is your name boy and where were you born?”

  Cayden couldn’t see a reason to lie so he answered truthfully.

  “Cayden Tiernan. I was born in from a village called Sanctuary-by-the-Sea, on the northeastern coast of the realm.”

  “You have lived there your entire life?”

  “Yes, I am born and raised there.”

  “Why do you travel to the capital?”

  “I joined the legion when it came to our village, but the legion was attacked and everyone perished. I was out of the camp at the time of the attack and survived. I thought to join another legion if I could locate one.”

  Cayden wondered if his partial lie was convincing. He hadn’t actually lied, at least until the end. He had only left out important parts.

  The high lord stared at him. Cayden locked his legs and arms to keep them from trembling and betraying his nervousness and then met his eyes.

  “You know what I think? I think you are a clever liar and a fraud. I think you do not have the brains to orchestrate a rebellion. Lord knows how many of your type have been tossed in these dungeons over the years, betrayed by beggarly men eager to claim the queen’s bounty.”

  He walked around Cayden one more time and then paused in front of him, a puzzled expression on his cruel face. “And yet…there is something familiar about you…as though we had met on a previous occasion.” He studied Cayden’s features, searching them, and then turned away, tugging on gloves he had pulled from his vest pocket.

  “Bind him in chains. I will have Queen Alcina inspect this one.”

  He left the cell as Cayden was dragged over to a set of leg and wrist irons affixed to chains imbedded in the stone exterior wall.

  Chapter 50

  THEY WRAPPED UP THEIR PLANNING SESSION around four o’clock in the morning. Birds were beginning to stir, sleepy twitters occasionally disturbing the silence in their wake. The captains rode off to their respective assignments, breaking camp and beginning the march back to the village.

  Denzik’s plan was to approach the village in units of ten Kingsmen from the dense woods on the opposite bank of the back of the inn. Once there, they would sneak men into the tunnels in small groups. Hopefully, their movements would be missed by the locals busy tending their fields and of
f to trade in the capital for the day.

  Nelson’s network of tunnels had expanded to include a riverside entrance, cleverly disguised to blend into the bank. While only he and a handful of trusted men needed access to the tunnels, hiding the entrance in the inn had made sense from a security point of view.

  But as the tunnels expanded and the rumours from the ears heated up with whispers of the chosen one approaching, having only one entrance seemed foolhardy. After all, how can I sneak in an entire army through the middle of my inn?

  As a result, three separate entrances had been established leading into the tunnels, all joining at different points along the underground passageways. Denzik had utilized some of those abandoned corridors and lengthened them. Now in addition to the river entrance, one was also to be found near the well on Denzik’s land and a fourth in the storm cellar of the grain barn that Fabian used to store his flour sacks.

  Nelson set up sentries posing as gardeners or workers doing repairs about the grounds to steer people away from the back of the inn. Sentries were also posted at the three other entrances. As they spied the men approaching, bluebird whistles would give the all clear signal to the units as they approached.

  In the meantime, Fabian brought supplies in through the back door leading to the inn’s kitchen plus an assortment of swords, arrows, and bows, all tucked neatly into the bottom of baskets of freshly baked bread, apples, and jerky. The baskets disappeared down the trap door and were hauled to the various staging areas within the tunnels, so that the men and women who arrived with no weapons would leave the tunnels armed.

  Tabitha was the last line of defence, as she would disguise the inn’s trap door once they had descended into its depths, standing guard with a cook’s best tools, cleavers and knives, at the ready.

  The first groups arrived, peeking over the horizon with the dawn, creeping through the trees as silent as a stalking mountain lion. They whistled the bluebird call to announce their presence, and the sentries whistled back confirmation that it was safe to approach. He motioned the first group of ten down into the tunnel entrance. Men and women scrambled down the inn ladder, dropped into the riverside stone shaft, slithered down a rope into the well, crawled out the side tunnel six feet above the floor of the well, and crawled into the space under the old mill stone, all intent on joining with their fellow Kingsmen.

  The men continued to arrive all day and into the night, ten minute intervals between the groups, sixty men an hour. Twenty-four hours later, one thousand four hundred men in total had descended into the caves and settled into their assigned bands in the caverns and tunnels beneath the castle.

  Denzik closed off and hid the riverside entrance, disguising it with an old wooden rowboat he pulled up in front of the entrance, leaning it on an angle and obscuring all the tracks. When he left, it appeared that the boat had been in storage there for a very long time.

  He then returned to his home and removed the rope slung from the overhead crossbeam of the well and swept the area with a tree branch to erase the signs of booted traffic.

  Denzik met Fabian as he entered the inn and together they wandered nonchalantly back to the library, which had become their makeshift command post over the last two days. The twenty captains, Ryder, Ziona, and Tobias stood or leaned against furniture, studied the maps pinned around the room on the walls, or conversed in low tones. Denzik felt their suppressed excitement, their eagerness to get on with the overthrow of the government and Cayden’s rescue.

  Denzik cleared his throat and the room fell silent.

  “Tonight, the world changes forever. For seventeen years, we have planned, prepared, searched, and waited. But even more so, we have hoped. For seventeen years, we have endured the tyranny of a queen who murdered the royal family of Cathair down to the man, woman, and child. She attempted to wipe them from the earth…but she has failed.”

  Denzik reached for a box under the desk that had once held maps. He placed it on the tabletop and opened the lid. Inside were folded uniforms bearing the insignia of captains of the Kingsmen. They had been carefully folded and wrapped in bleached paper, the emblem of the Kingsmen stitched boldly onto the royal purple fabric. The men stood taller and snapped to attention at the sight of the uniforms.

  “Tonight, we reclaim that which was taken from us. Tonight, we reclaim the throne for the rightful heir. Tonight, we throw off our disguises for tomorrow, and we declare our allegiance in battle.” He gazed around at the men and smiled. The men cheered, saluted, elbowing each other aside as they rushed forward to collect their uniforms.

  ***

  Mordecai lit the candles he had hoarded over the years with a flame conjured by his magic. The flames of twenty candles pushed back the gloom and spilled over into Cayden’s cell.

  Hanging on the wall as he was, Cayden could not immediately see the source of the light, but he was grateful for it nevertheless. The soft scurrying sounds of rats magnified in the dark until it sounded like there were hundreds of them in his cell. His imagination running riot, Cayden discovered a fear he never knew he possessed.

  “Mordecai, get me out of here.” A tremor of panic made Cayden’s voice come out in a squawk. “There are rats here, Mordecai!” He shuddered and twisted in his shackles. “Hurry, please!”

  “Just a minute, my boy!”

  Cayden heard rustling from the cell across the way and a shadow moved across the wall, Mordecai passing in front of the candles.

  Something ran across Cayden’s foot, brushing against his pant leg. His leg shot out a whole two inches, in an attempt to kick off the rat, but instead of dislodging the creature, he felt its needle-sharp claws pierce the flesh of his calf. With a choked screech, Cayden thrashed in his bonds, the metal shackles cutting into his exposed skin.

  “Mordecai!” he screamed, taking deep gulps of air to stem his rising panic.

  “There, that should do it.” With a popping sound, the cell door across from Cayden’s swung open on squealing hinges.

  “Mordecai!” Cayden gasped, as a second rat joined the first, its whiskered nose sniffing at the blood now trickling down from the abrasions on Cayden’s leg from the manacles.

  Mordecai’s thin pale face flashed in the barred window of Cayden’s cell, as he reached through the bars and stuck a guttering candle on the lantern shelf beside the door. In the weak light, the floor writhed and bubbled with small bodies that scurried here and there across the floor. Cayden found that actually seeing the rats, was far worse than fearing them in the dark and Cayden began to thrash again as his horror broke free. He screamed as a rat began to climb his pant leg.

  “Oh my,” said Mordecai. He pulled his focus stone out of his pocket, his balled fist clutching it tightly, and then thrust it back through the bars and murmured a few words that Cayden could not make out. There was a flash of brilliant white and the rats collapsed, slipping off of Cayden’s legs as the life left their bodies.

  Cayden, his heart pounding, sucked in several breaths, trying desperately to regain control.

  Mordecai replaced the stone in his pocket and fished out the master key that he had stolen off of Wendell the last time he had visited his cell. He fit it into the lock, turned the tumblers, and hurried over to Cayden’s limp form.

  “Nasty business, rats,” he said, gazing around while he worked on unlocking the manacles. “They are not normally active this time of day.” He released Cayden’s hands and then bent to release his ankles. “Ahh, I see now why they came in such numbers, look.”

  With a click the last shackle fell away and Cayden scrambled off the wooden platform on shaky legs, careful to not step on a dead rat. Rubbing his wrists, Cayden bent over to see what had attracted Mordecai’s attention. Under the platform he spied a wooden trough full of rotting refuse. At either end, a hollow stone tube was visible. It connected to a long vertical drain in the floor of the kitchens many stories above. The garbage of the kitchens washed down and emptied into the trough.

  “Ingenious,” said Morde
cai, examining the device. “Obviously, this particular cell is used to torture prisoners. The poor kitchen staff would have no idea that they are innocently aiding in this torture.” He straightened then put his hand on Cayden’s shoulder. “Are you ready to go? We need to hurry. I can’t imagine we have much time. They will be back very soon to see what effect the rats have had on loosening your tongue.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” Cayden said fervently, shuddering, eyes averted from the floor.

  He followed Mordecai back to his cell, locking the cell doors behind them. Mordecai tapped on a rock at the back of his cell. The sound of an answering knock filled the air.

  Chapter 51

  QUEEN ALCINA SLAPPED HER MAID’S HANDS AWAY impatiently. “I told you, stupid woman, to fetch the emeralds, not the pearls.”

  “But, Your Majesty, the emeralds do not compliment your lovely dress.” The maid smoothed the black silk and resumed buttoning the high-collared back.

  “I care not for your silly opinion, woman. Finish your duties. Quickly! I do not have time to waste on your useless dribble.”

  The maid curtsied and quickened her movements, head bent to hide the bloom of embarrassment on her cheeks. She fetched the heavy silver collar set with emeralds and settled them around her mistress’s throat, fastening the heavy clasp at the back of her neck. Next, she placed her thin pearl-studded crown on her hair and secured it with combs. The combination was hideous, but she clamped her lips shut, struggling to keep silent. With the queen’s current mood, voicing her opinion now would find her on the way to the guillotine.

  Alcina left the ridiculous woman behind, entering her sitting room where Cyrus waited. He blinked at the combination but also wisely said nothing. He knew Alcina was in one of her moods and heads usually rolled when she was in a foul temper.