In Service Of The King (Book 2) (7 page)

Keeping his expression neutral, Joseph indicated the prisoner--standing on the board above the pit--with his shackled hands.

“They are fed on peasants?” he asked. G’azal smiled.

“Indeed. I am fond of irony.. it is a weakness of mine.” The bishop chuckled to himself. Joseph fought to keep his revulsion from showing. “This man has finally completed the long journey of his own existence,” the Bishop continued. He clasped his hands behind his back as he spoke. “He will be offered to the king of beasts, but he does not go unwillingly.”

The dangling prisoner caught sight of the priest and called out to him in a voice of gladness.

“Master! Your great wisdom and counsel led me here! I am honored you have come to see me! Bless you!” The prisoner waved and smiled at G’azal, who nodded sagely.

“Farewell, Finch,” replied the Bishop.

Hearing the name, Joseph stared at the condemned individual. The man called Finch wore elated expression but his eyes seemed to stare at nothing in particular. The guard with the rope began lowering the unfortunate man into the pit, while the other guard pulled the board away from under him. Joseph looked quickly over at G’azal. The priest seemed to be enjoying himself; he rose up on his toes to get a better view. Closing his eyes at the first scream, Joseph clenched his teeth and wished himself deaf.

“My God,” he prayed silently. “Let not my enemies triumph over me.”

He forced his eyes open in spite of the screams. All others in the room were distracted by the show in the pit. Joseph saw one of the guards struggling with drawing the long board towards him. Walking closer to the pit--as if interested--Joseph stumbled forward, falling on purpose against the guard with the board. Gasping, the man let it fall, the free end hitting the ground of the pit. Bishop G’azal sprang forward, his placid glee instantly replaced by panic.

“Get it up you fool!” he yelled. “Pull it up!” He clutched at the board, himself, straining backward. Joseph slowly backed away from the edge of the pit towards the door.

The roaring stopped. Two, gigantic black paws thumped onto the end of the board, its long claws digging into the wood.

“Get it up!” G’azal screamed. All color drained away from his face.

Joseph ran. Leaping outside the outside the doorway, he threw himself back against the stone door, forcing it closed with an enormous effort. He leaned back against the door, planting his feet on the stone corridor wall opposite, and braced himself. Catching his breath Joseph waited, his back firmly wedged against the stone door. The yelling inside was muted, but still discernible. Pounding sounded out on the door, and frantic attempts to push it open. Joseph stiffened his legs, pushing back with all his might. Screams of panic and fear rang out. Answering growls reverberated through the rock. The screams grew in volume,hands and nails scrabbling at the door. A thin stream of blood began trickling out from under the stone.

Eventually the screams died away. Joseph calmed his breathing and looked around him. The pile of planed lumber he’d stepped over earlier stood mere yards away. Stepping around the blood, Joseph launched towards the wood and grabbed a thick piece. Darting back to the door he wedged it between the stone door and corridor wall. Ducking under it, Joseph listened for any sounds of coming footsteps. The main cavern’s noise and activity had masked all sounds of the horrors in the passage.

Quickly, Joseph glanced at each of the symbols above the other doors, searching for anything indicating a way out. One door bore the image of a large snake; he left it untouched. Only one door had no symbol at all; it stood next to the death camber at the end. Joseph opened the door just enough to peer inside. A small room lay beyond. Two priests’ guards sat at a table int he middle of the space, playing cards. Weapons and implements of torture hung on the walls the way a rich man would display paintings.

“Where is the exit passage?” Joseph asked.

The two men looked up from their game at the door.

“The main entrance and the second shaft... Hey! You’re not allowed in here!” The larger guard stood up as he spoke, sending his chair over backwards. The other threw down his cards and reached for his sword. Joseph turned and fled back down the corridor, toward the cavern. The two guards banged on the other doors they passed--loudly calling out.

“Prisoner escape! Call the Bishop!” More guards emerged from the doors and darted down the passage, weapons in hand.

Sprinting past the lion’s door, Joseph dodged under the brace and turned back. With a grunt, he dislodged the lumber and grasped the door’s iron handle tightly. Pulling back with all his might, he did not stop wrenching it back the door swung out into the passage wall. With a final heave Joseph leaned back, wedging the door firmly into the rock wall. On the other side of the door, he heard the footfalls of the approaching guards.

“He went into the lion room!” one man called out. “There’s no way out! He’s trapped...”

A low growl rang out from within the room. The menacing sound carried out into the passageway. Joseph’s pursuers stopped cold. In a half-second they’d rushed back the way they’d come, crying out in panic, the beasts hot on their heels. Joseph let go the door and turned to exit the terrible passage-way. Stepping through the door he straightened up, standing in the great cavern once more.

AS THE Shamar reached the dark courtyard of Hoggen Keep, Tyrus, Dunner and Hezekiah watched the cart speed away.

“I’m no runner,” Dunner said, disgustedly. “I’m thinkin’ there be another way to find out if Joseph’s in that cart.”

Tyrus turned on his heel and strode purposefully to the keep entrance, throwing back his cloak; the others followed him. The large knocker thudded deeply against the wooden door of the keep. Moments later a young guard opened the small peephole in the door.

“Who goes there?” he said, uncertainly. Tyrus held up his Shamar ring in the keep’s torchlight.

“By the authority of the King, who went away from this place in that cart?” Tyrus’ voice held no friendliness, and the youth closed the peephole immediately.

The heavy keep door opened slowly on creaking hinges. Stepping our, the young guard gave the newcomers a small bow.

“Sir, ‘twas two of the Magistrate guards; they carried away the Magistrate’s son,” the guard replied, looking at each of the three men. “Some lunatic put ‘im out cold.”

“Stand aside,” Tyrus ordered. He pushed past the youth and looked from one empty cell to the other. The gaoler walked up to him, his ring of keys jangling. Hezekiah stood near Tyrus; Dunner took his place by the main door.

Tyrus showed his ring to the gaoler.

“Where is the man who created a disturbance at the Inn this evening?” he demanded, looking down at the man. “He was brought here, and we have come to take charge of him until his trial.”

The jailer looked down,briefly, and then back at Tyrus.

“As you can see, sir,” he said, indicating the cells behind him, “there is no one here.”

Eyes narrowed, Tyrus cleare his throat.

“Joseph of Rishown,” he repeated, glaring at the jailer. “Where is he?”

“Are you blind, sir?” the jailer shot back. “There’s no one here!”

Hezekiah already had his sword in hand before the jailer’s could react. With one swift jba, he’d thrust the thin blade through the jailer’s heart and pulled it back. Wiping the blood off of his sword, Hezekiah turned to face the young guard. The youth stood against the wall, his face white; he watched, horrified as the gaoler gasped and writhed on the floor.

“Where did they take the man brought here tonight?” Tyrus asked him, somewhat more gently. The boy tried to speak but could not; with a shaking hand he pointed towards the back of the building. Grabbing the young guard’s arm, Tyrus led him forward.

“Show us,” he ordered. “Or suffer your master’s fate.”

The boy stumbled as he hurried down the passage and into the secret cell. He lifted the lid of the bed as Chamberlain had done and pointed downward.

“The caves,” he stuttered. “I’venever been down there, but they always send the prisoners there. Only the guards come back up.” Tyrus drew his sword and pointed it down the dark steps.

“You can lead the way,” he commanded. “Dunner… a torch.”

Only the gatekeeper occupied the stone chamber. Tyrus held onto the youth’s arm as Hezekiah and Dunner approached the table. Seeing Joseph’s vest and shirt--sticking partially out of the trunk--Dunner gave a cry and pulled them out.

“What have you done with the lad?!” he growled.The murderous look in his eye seemed to bring life to the gatekeepers face.He stood up partially, his hand on his dagger. Before the man could draw a breath, however, the tip of a sword was at his throat.

“Open the gate, if you value your life,” Tyrus told him. The gravity of his tone belied the anger present in the man’s eyes.

Without a word, the gatekeeper stumbled towards the stone door in flickering torchlight.

FIVE

As Joseph threaded his way back through the cavern, he caught sight of the thin worker who had warned him, working by one of the forges. The massive timber structure towered over them, and no one seemed to know what had gone on in the passage.

Coming up to the thin man, Joseph nodded and picked up a piece of ore.

“What is your name, friend?” he asked, quietly, glancing around. He placed the ore in the wheelked barrow and continued working.

“William Jensen,” the man answered him hoarsely. He slowly bent down and gathered more ore. Several thin, red scars criss-crossed the man’s back.

“I am Joseph of Rishown village. How long have you been here?”

“More than six months, by my reckoning, which is longer than most my age last.”

“How did you get put in this place?

“I’m a farmer near Pauldosus; I was in Hoggen going to Fehale for market day. The magistrate’s men took me outside the innn that night. I only pray that my wife and children are well.” At this he broke down weeping, letting his load of ore fall into the barrow.

Joseph watched the far passage door; no one, or thing, had emerged from it, yet.

“Is there another way out of this cursed place?” he asked the farmer. Collecting himself, Jensen looked puzzled by the question.

“I heard there’s a back shaft, that goes to the surface,” he said, slowly resuming his work. “The bishop uses it and I have heard his servants complain it is not wide enough… but I have never seen it, myself.”

“The bishop is dead,” Joseph told the man. “If we are to escape, now is the time. Are there any trustworthy here?”

The thin prisoner stared at Joseph. The younger man’s intense eyes held no falsehood. After a moment Jensen put down his piece of ore.

“There are only four of us left whom have not eaten the cursed meat,” he whispered, his sunken eyes glancing towards the forges. “The rest become meat themselves.”

“Get them,” Joseph told them. “Do it quietly. We must go, and quickly.” Jensen nodded once and scuttled away through the forges, out of sight. Pushing Jensen’s cart of ore, Joseph directed it by the nearest forge.

Nearby a strong, hairy blacksmith shoved wood into a blazing fire built under one of the smelting cauldrons.

“Put that in the pile and get to work crushing the ore!” the hairy man ordered. His teeth flashed as he spoke. He pumped the bellows harder, sending the flames shooting up around the blackened cauldron.

Spying a large, heavy hammer with a long handle Joseph hoisted it above his shoulder and began swinging it down upon the ore; as he broke the rock, he kept watch for return of Jensen and his fellows.

“Faster, fool!” the hairy man bellowed at him. “Work or I’ll see you taste the Master’s whip!” He threw a wide shovel at Joseph’s feet; taking it, the young man scooped up the broken rock. He carried it to the cauldron and dumped the heavy contents inside. Looking over the edge Joseph flinched at seeing its contents. The cauldron was nearly filled with molten gold; a bit of dark dross flaoting on top of a fortune in hot precious metal. Staring at the glowing mass,Joseph shook his head and turned back to the ore pile again.

Before too long, he spied Jensen crouching behind a massive pile of broken stone nearby, along with three others; all looked wasted away, but each face bore a desperate hope, as each strained to look at the new stranger. He gave Jensen a quick nod and motioned for them to wait, out of sight. He broke rock and shoveled, waiting for the burly smith at the cauldron to turn away.

Suddenly, a strange, piercing cry filled the air. It sliced through the noise and silenced all voices, echoing off the rock walls. All work seemed to stop and the workers cowered down in fear. Even the hairy smith sank to his knees. Joseph kept on his feet, looking around for the source of the cry.

“Joseph!” the voice screeched. “Joseph of Rishown! The new slave! Kill him!”

All over the structure and below it, the workers stood up and slowly turned--in an eerie display of synchronization--directing thier eyes upon Joseph.

“Kill him!” they said, almost in one voice. “Kill him where he stands!”

The hairy blacksmith stood from his work, an evil grin on his glistening face. Swinging the borrowed hammer Joseph let it fall full force on the hairy brute, knocking the man over. Jensen and the others clambered up onto the rockpile and took up rocks; with what strnegth remianed in them, they threw ore down upon the fiend until he moved no more.

Joseph turned to the cauldron as his fellows finished off the smith. The smelter stood close to one of the massive timber supports of the wood-structure overhead. Wedging the handle of his hammer at an angle--at the base of the cauldron--Joseph pushed with all his might down upon it. Slowly the cauldron began to tip. Molten metal splashed out onto the cavern floor with short, hissing sounds.

“Help me!” he called out, bearing down on the hammer. Using planks, Jensen and his fellows aided Joseph to tip the cauldron further; the steaming gold flowed out like a flaming river, right up against the timber column. The wood support began smoking, bursting into flames within a few seconds. Cries of “fire!” rang out in the levels above. Losing no time, Joseph ran to the next forge and it’s cauldron of molten gold.