Haladras (15 page)

“More of the king’s soldiers,” whispered Krom. “It’s as I
suspected, but hoped not true. I fear Lord Orphlyus is no longer Lord of
Fenorra.

“That tunnel they pass through is narrow,” he continued, “a
safeguard against invasion. There could be thousands more. We’ll pass on the
mountainside. The way is not steep and there are plenty of boulders to hide us
from view.”

They did not have to travel far up the mountainside to find
a path which led them over the tunnel. As they crossed over it, Skylar could
still hear the ominous sounds of the troops marching toward Dura Cragis. Once
they’d passed over the tunnel, Krom led the band gradually back down to the
smoother terrain of Horned Vale.

In the darkness it felt as if they had been walking all
night. Skylar checked his chronometer. Not yet midnight. Soon black trees
surrounded them again. Krom guided them deeper into their protective shadows. A
quarter of an hour later, Krom signaled a halt.

“We shall sleep here tonight,” said Krom.

“I’ll keep the first watch,” replied Skylar, trying not to
sound too eager.

There was a pause. Skylar waited nervously for Krom’s reply.

“I suppose since Grim is not...very well. Wake me
immediately if you hear or see the slightest thing.”

It took no time at all before the sounds of slumber rose
from his three companions. Still, he waited several minutes more. He couldn’t
risk waking one of them. This opportunity would not come again. Convinced they
were all soundly asleep, he quietly slipped away from the camp, and disappeared
into the night.

FOURTEEN

S
KYLAR CROUCHED ON
the ground,
peering out from behind a large boulder to spy on the road. To his relief, he
found a steady stream of soldiers still flowing from the tunnel’s mouth. He was
much closer to the figures than before. The gray shapes of foot soldiers
intermixed with artillery transports were easier to distinguish now.

A thin mist had risen, blanketing the black earth, giving
the soldiers the appearance of floating above the ground. Not a word did they
speak as they marched relentlessly onward, their shadowy forms fading into the
night.

Skylar forced himself to think clearly and ignore the
eeriness of the scene. He knew that at any moment the stream of soldiers could
end and his opportunity would be lost. As silent as a shadow, he moved closer
to the tunnel’s entrance, skulking from boulder to boulder. The sounds of the
soldiers’ march grew louder. A narrow ditch ran alongside the road. Dropping to
all fours, Skylar left the protection of the boulders and crawled quickly into
the ditch. He waited.

He knew he would have but one chance. There was no room for
hesitation or mistake.

The feet of soldiers passed by just above his head. So close
he could have reached up and grabbed at their ankles. They continued to stream
from the tunnel. Had he missed his opportunity? He began to fear that his plan
had failed scarcely before it began.

Then he saw it. The oversized wheels of on an artillery
transport rolled out from the tunnel’s mouth, moving with exaggerated slowness.

“Almost there,” whispered Skylar. “Almost there.”

As soon as the front wheel passed by Skylar’s head, he
pitched himself laterally from the ditch onto the road and rolled beneath the
transport just in time to avoid getting crushed by the back wheel. Groping
frantically in the dark, Skylar searched for something to hold onto on the
undercarriage of the vehicle before it passed over him. It seemed to be moving
swifter now. He thrust out his hands, heedless of the scrapes and bruises he
was inflicting on them. At last, near the rear of the vehicle, he felt an
opening to a rectangular cavity with a narrow ledge running along all four
sides. With some effort, he squeezed himself into the cramped space. Skylar
exhaled a sigh of relief. He had made it.

The artillery vehicle rumbled along. If he had not been so
uncomfortably packed into that steel cavity, Skylar might have fallen asleep.
Tired as he was, the rhythmic sounds of the vehicle’s engine and the crunch of
gravel under its wheels were lulling. Occasionally, however, the wheels would
hit a hole in the road, jolting the vehicle, and send Skylar’s head banging
against the steel walls, knocking any sleep out of him.

After an interminable length of time, Skylar sensed that
they were drawing near the city. The sounds of gravel were replaced by a
humming, and the ride became smoother. They were driving on stone. The hint of
amber lights began to reflect off the gray stone and find its way to his green
eyes. They were coming into Dura Cragis.

Soon, Skylar felt the vehicle turn. Fewer lights illuminated
the stone streets now. And the sounds of soldiers’ boots marching on the hard
stone grew fainter.

The soldiers must be heading in a different direction
.
He continued to listen, straining his ears to make sense of every noise he
heard. No, he was sure. The soldiers were moving away, or the vehicle was
moving away from them.

When the vehicle finally stopped for a moment, Skylar ventured
to poke his head out from his hiding spot. Seeing no boots standing near, he
let himself down onto the street, crawled to the edge of the vehicle, made one
final glance around, then dashed into the shadows of an alleyway.

Cautiously, Skylar navigated through the streets, keeping to
the shadows and alleyways as much as possible. He found the streets mostly
deserted as he moved deeper into the city. Occasionally, a stray clump of
soldiers, or a wary townsman hurrying timidly along would pass him, but that
was all. Skylar shivered as he made his way, though not from cold. Fear
permeated the air. Just as he had felt it in the streets of Amrahdel.

The citadel was the only place he knew to look for Grim. If
the guards had arrested him, they likely would have taken him to the citadel’s
holding cells. How he would steal into that stronghold, once he found it, he
had no idea. He only knew that he must find a way.

As yet, the citadel had not come into view. He had seen the
formidable structure when he and the companions stood within the protection of
the trees. He only knew that it stood at the rear of the city.

But he had little doubt that it would be well guarded, with
virtually no way inside but through the main gates.

He quickened his pace.

A sudden burst of laughter made Skylar start. It came from
behind. Skylar did not turn around, but kept walking. More laughter, followed
by loud, slurred speech. Drunken soldiers. Skylar prayed they would pay him no
attention. He increased his pace.

“Hey...you there!” shouted one of the voices from behind.
“Come ‘ere.”

Skylar’s heart stopped midbeat. The soldier’s words were
nearly unintelligible, but Skylar knew what he had said. He acted as if he
didn’t hear and kept on his way, hoping they would leave him alone.

“Hey,” shouted the voice, cracking as a hiccup caught the
word. “Come ‘ere I say or I’ll shoot ya.”

Skylar halted in his tracks. What to do? He could easily
outrun the inebriated lout. But if he started shooting? Too many soldiers were
in the city to risk such a scene. Reluctantly, he turned to face two soldiers
staggering toward him with maladroit steps. A pathetic sight.

“That’s better,” slurred out the one. “Now,” he continued,
close enough that Skylar could smell the suffocating odor of alcohol on his
breath. “You’re gonna lend us a hand.”

The soldier paused as he tipped to one side, nearly toppling
to the ground.

“See this here suit I a wear’n?” He banged his limp hands
against the armored breastplate. “Off, I say. Too blazing hot. And you’s a gonna
do it. Ya hear?”

The soldier shot a gloved finger at Skylar’s chest, but
missed and only stabbed the air in front of him. Then he collapsed to the
ground, with his torso still vertical, swaying back and forth.

“Get on with it,” ordered the soldier. “Off, I say. Off!”

Starting with the soldier’s breastplate, Skylar searched for
a means of removing the protective suit. Finding some latches along the seam,
where the front and back met on the sides, he began working to unfasten them.
His fingers trembled, making the job more difficult.

An unexpected thud, followed by a throaty groan, made Skylar
look up from his toiling. Lying on the ground, limbs splayed out in every
direction, was the other soldier. The soldier Skylar was helping laughed at his
comrade and muttered something incomprehensible.

“Get on with it,” he blurt out between slurred mumbling.

Skylar finally managed to remove the upper portion of the
soldier’s suit. With a groan of his own, he realized what a challenge the lower
half of the suit would be. Before he could begin the odious task, however, the
soldier fell back onto the ground and almost immediately commenced snoring
raucously.

Skylar froze. If the soldier just stayed asleep, he could
escape. Quietly, he turned and tiptoed away. A few meters away from the
unconscious soldiers, he halted. An idea came into his mind. A sly smile
crossed his lips. Glancing around to ensure he wasn’t being watched, he
returned to the soldier and, as gently as possible, worked to finish the job of
removing the suit.

Skylar felt clumsy and uncomfortable in the armored suit. It
did not fit him well. But it would have to do. He labored under the weight of
it, climbing the countless steps at the citadel’s foot, attempting to appear as
confident and official as he could muster.

A black-tinted visor and helmet, which the drunken soldier
had cast to the street, disguised his face. He also carried the soldier’s
blaster. Except for his awkward gait and the jetwing hanging from his belt, he
looked indistinguishable from the other soldiers. Though he might have been
wise to hide his jetwing in the alleyway where he hid his clothes, he could not
bring himself to leave it behind.

Perspiration seeped profusely from his skin by the time he
gained the top of the stairs. Heavy stone doors, flanked by two guards stood
before him. Tentatively, he advanced toward the doors, hoping the guards would
let him pass without interrogation or having to divulge some password he didn’t
know.

“It’s about time you showed up,” said the rightmost guard.
“I was beginning to think we would have to stand here all night. Here’s the
keycard for the doors.”

The guard held out a thin, rectangular object. Skylar took
it, and fumbled to keep from dropping it with his oversized glove protecting
his hands.

“Enjoy the night,” said the guard mockingly, then started
down the steps.

“What’s this!” called out the second guard. “What about me?
There were supposed to be two of you. Where’s the other guard?”

“Uh,” stammered Skylar, trying to make his voice sound
deeper than it was. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Haven’t seen him!” The guard threw his arms up. “Where is
that lazily—”

“No doubt he’ll be along soon,” said the first guard, still
on the steps. “Come on. That fellow can handle things until the other arrives.
Come on.”

The second guard looked around, as if to check if anyone was
watching.

“Alright then,” he said.

Skylar watched the two soldiers as they descended the stairs
and then vanished into the city.

That was much too easy.

Taking the keycard, he located a thin vertical slot on the
side of the door and inserted it. With surprising speed, the two stone doors
parted. Skylar stepped inside, and the doors closed swiftly behind him.

He stood in a huge open hall with polished stone floors and
high ceiling. Another stairway stood at the far end of the hall, granting
access to an upper-level walkway which ran the four walls of the room. Only a
few dim lights provided visibility in the whole hall, so that it was almost as
dark inside as the night outside.

Skylar neither saw nor heard any sign of other people. Nor
did he see any clear direction to begin his search for Grim. Numerous corridors
led from the hall in all directions, with no indication as to where they led.

“Which way to go?” said Skylar to himself, as he surveyed
his surroundings. He feared standing there too long. If anyone saw him, he
wanted to appear as though he were about some important business. “If only
there were a map of this place...”

No sooner had the words escaped his lips than a monotone
voice sounded in his ear.

“Activating map. Current location: Dura Cragis Citadel,
entrance hall, level one.”

The inner visor of his helmet illuminated with the soft
green glow of a map projected on the right-side of his field of vision. A tiny
red dot blinked on one portion of it. He guessed the dot indicated his position
in the building. A few other dots came to life, scattered about the projection:
other guards, most likely.

“Where are the holding cells?” asked Skylar.

“Holding cells,” repeated the voice.

The projected map moved up and another illuminated below it.
“Lower level,” read the label of the second map. A rectangular section of it
flashed white. Then a thin dotted line traced a path for him to follow. It led
to what appeared to be stairs.

Ensuring that no guards showed along the route, he set off
down the second corridor to his left. He walked as swiftly as he dared, which
felt painfully slow, as he attempted to minimize the echo of his boots on the
stone floor. As yet, no other guards appeared anywhere near him on the map.
Still, he wished to avoid attracting any of their attention. Though dressed as
a soldier, he had no legitimate excuse for his presence there.

After several turns down other corridors, he finally came to
a dark, narrow stairwell leading down. He checked the map again. Still clear.
He descended the stairs.

There were no guards on duty around the holding cells.
Either some careless soldier was slacking off, or else it was considered
unnecessary. Four cells comprised the entire prison unit of the citadel.
Doubtless a larger prison or dungeon existed elsewhere in the city for extended
imprisonment.

Grim sat on a stone bed, his head bent low. Three solid
stone walls and one of glass fifteen centimeters in thickness comprised his
cramped cell. The other three cells were empty. Grim did not look up as Skylar
approached.

Skylar immediately went to work searching for means to open
Grim’s cell. He found nothing. No hinges, seams, or anything to indicate how to
get in. He ran his gloved hand along the portion of the stone separating Grim’s
cell from the next. It was perfectly smooth. No hidden keypads or key slots.
Nothing.
How do you—

An idea suddenly came to him.

“Open cell number one,” he said aloud.

“Opening cell number one,” responded the voice in his
helmet.

The entire glass wall of the far cell from Grim’s slid up
into the ceiling.

“Close cell number one,” he ordered. “Open cell number
four.”

The voice repeated the command. Immediately Grim’s glass
wall retracted into the ceiling. For the first time, Grim looked up, but all he
saw was an imperial soldier standing at the threshold.

“Are you just going to sit there,” said Skylar, “Or do you
want to leave?”

Grim regarded him quizzically.

“Who are you?”

Skylar tore off the helmet.

“Skylar! What are you doing here?” Grim’s entire being was
full of astonishment and concern.