Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two) (57 page)

The library in the duke’s castle was quite small compared to the one in Castle Dremald and there were entire sections that Ewzad wouldn’t let her touch. She also wasn’t allowed to leave the castle grounds. He wouldn’t even let her explore the older section that had belonged to the keep before the
new castle
was built around it.

The princess fumed as she watched his simpering smile. He didn’t treat her with the respect she deserved. Her rooms were sparsely furnished and she only had one servant to tend to her, a withered old crone that could barely hear. The duke even had the audacity to summon her and dismiss her at his whim. She was a princess after all and deserved to be treated as such. Elise grumbled under her breath. At least this time he had taken off those horrible rings before she arrived.

They had just begun to eat when the door to the throne room opened and Rudfen entered. The large servant moved to the duke and bent over to whisper in his ear. Elise didn’t like the man. Whenever he entered the room, there seemed to be bad news.

 Elise couldn’t make out what was said, but Ewzad’s face turned purple with anger. The duke stood quickly, knocking his plate off the table. Food spilled across the rough stone floor.

“Elise, dear?”
His voice was polite though his fury was barely contained. “If you will excuse me dear, something has come up. Enjoy your meal, yes, enjoy it . . . please.” He turned and stormed out of the dining room with Rudfen in his wake.

The moment the door shut behind them, the duke grasped his servant by the front of his shirt.

“Prisoners fighting my guards?”
Ewzad Vriil shouted. The foul breeze from the duke’s
breath
ruffled Rudfen’s hair, but he stood resolutely, no fear showing on his scarred face.

“Yes, Master. A large number seem to have escaped their cells. They have obtained a set of keys and are letting all of the other prisoners loose as well. The dungeon guards have engaged the prisoners in battle, but they are vastly outnumbered.”

“Where is my dungeon keeper? Where is the fool?”

“He is nowhere to be found, Master.”

“Blast! This is unacceptable isn’t it? Oh yes-yes it is!” The duke began to pace back and forth. He felt weak without his artifact. “Go! Gather all of my men. All of my soldiers and all of my guards! Send them down to fight! Every last one! Then have Hamford bring me my artifact!”

Rudfen nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“
Oh,
and . . . I suppose he should bring me that moonrat bauble as well. Yes, I suppose.”

“Of course, Master.”

“Good, good. Oh, and Rudfen. If you would be so kind, lead the men yourself. If this uprising is not crushed within the hour, there will be dire consequences. I will hold you responsible. Do you understand? DO YOU?”

“Yes, Master.”

Rudfen left swiftly, leaving Ewzad Vriil alone, quivering with rage.

Deathclaw clung in the relative safety of a large old pine tree and watched the man he knew so well. Ever since Deathclaw had taken care of the threat caused by the dogs, the man Hamford had searched for him ceaselessly. At first, Deathclaw was wary of the search, but the men searching the trees around the castle were slow and clumsy. They never really came close to finding him.

Without the dogs to pinpoint his location, these men were no real threat to Deathclaw. As they searched, his mind wandered. It had been a while since he had eaten and for a moment, he hungrily eyed a gray squirrel that sat in the branches not too far away. The little creature was watching him calmly as it chewed the casing off a pine nut. Looking forward to a small snack, Deathclaw ever so slowly moved his tail out of the squirrel’s view and brought the newly
regrown
barbed end in line with its back. Before he could strike, a noise from below diverted his attention.

One of the side doors in the unfinished section of the castle opened and the scarred human that Deathclaw had seen many times around the castle ran to the man Hamford. They spoke quickly with words Deathclaw couldn’t hear.

Hamford shouted out. The soldiers stopped their search and ran back to the castle. Deathclaw watched until the last man slipped inside. He turned back to his meal, but the squirrel had slipped away unnoticed.

Deathclaw hissed with irritation, but noticed something amiss, something that made him forget all about his lost meal. The last man that entered the castle hadn’t shut the door all the way.

Deathclaw slipped down the tree trunk and, careful to watch out for the human workers that were building the castle, glided over the half-built wall unnoticed. As he approached the opened door, he caught the scent he had been searching for. It was his brood mate.

He stuck his head within the crack and tasted the air. She had been in the hallway recently, perhaps less than a day before. The air was thick with her scent mingled with that of the blood of many humans. She had been behind that door less than a day before, and she had been hunting.

Deathclaw entered the door, leaving it open behind him.

Captain Demetrius knew that it would be difficult to mount an offense against the guards in the narrow corridors. In such a tight space a few guards could hold off a large group of prisoners. The guards had the advantage of being armed and healthy with a full knowledge of the dungeon passageways. In contrast, the prisoners knew little more than the way they had been brought to their cells and the way to the torture rooms. But Captain Demetrius knew where the main guard force was stationed. It was a place where several of the corridors emptied into a large chamber with a thick iron door at one end that led to the stairwell and the way out of the dungeon. This was the place where Captain Demetrius had decided to engage the guards.

The Captain’s plan was simple. He sent any prisoners that were experienced scouts or trackers out into the corridors ahead of his main force. They were to subdue or kill any lone guard that they came upon if possible or come back and report any large group they found. The bulk of the prisoners filed out behind them. The main problem he faced was the prisoners that had gone off on their own once released. It was only a matter of time before one of them was found and an alarm sounded. The Captain had his men prepared just in case that happened.

He didn't have to wait long. They were only halfway to the main chamber when shouting echoed down the corridors, signaling the end of any element of surprise they might have had. They dropped any pretense of
stealthiness
and howled as they ran down the passageways towards the main hall.

When the fighting first began, the guards slaughtered many prisoners. But for every guard that went down, there was another sword and another set of keys. The battles soon turned in their favor and it didn't take long for the escapees to reach their objective.

When Justan and
Petyr
arrived, the battle for the main chamber was well underway. They were stuck in the back of a crowd of people and could not make their way into the fight. Justan quickly set
Petyr
down to lean against the wall just outside of the chamber and waited for an opening in the press of people so that he could join the battle.

Fist and Tamboor were already in the thick of it. Justan couldn't see much over the crowd, but he could see Fist's shoulders and arm rising with his stolen table leg. Through the bond, Justan knew that Fist was frustrated. The ogre’s style of fighting was much more open than the press of people allowed. He had to hold himself back in fear of accidentally killing some of the prisoners. The best he could do is bash in the head of any guard that came close with a blow from above. Fortunately the ceiling in this area was high enough for him to do so.

Tamboor on the other hand wasn't suffering from the same frustration. The academy veteran was one of the most skilled swordsmen in the world and he was employing all of his experience now. Tamboor was a blur of movement, his body contorting in near impossible ways, perfectly timing every sword thrust to bring down his enemies. The ground around him was littered with the bodies of guards.

As Justan watched, Tamboor took on three guards simultaneously. He took a quick swipe at eye level, causing all three men to raise their swords in a parry attempt. Moving to the side, he stabbed the soldier furthest to the left in the knee,
then
ducked behind him.

The man threw an elbow but Tamboor was expecting it. He knocked the man’s elbow up with the hilt of his sword and grabbed the man’s sword hand with his free hand before kicking him towards the other two guards and jerking the sword from his grasp. With his leg wounded, the man was not able to stop his momentum and fell into the other guards, distracting them long enough for Tamboor to shift his grip on the newly acquired sword and throw it.

The third guard watched in horror as the sword pierced the second guard’s chest. He looked back at Tamboor in time to see the man in mid-leap bringing his sword down in a two handed strike. The sword cleaved the man’s head in two.

Justan was stunned by the man’s prowess. He yearned to get into the fight even more now, but the press of men kept him from doing so.

Luckily for the prisoners, Ewzad Vriil had not chosen elite soldiers for the dungeon duties. He had instead picked the meanest and most brutish of his men. They were perfect when it came to instilling fear and hopelessness in the wizard's captives, but this also meant that they weren't the best warriors.

Soon it looked like Justan wouldn’t get the chance to join in this battle after all. The fight was winding down. Only a few guards were left and they were tight together in a semicircle around the iron door. The fighting was too fierce for them to turn around and escape. Fist began making his way to the remaining guards.

Just as the guard’s defenses collapsed, the iron door burst open. Soldiers flooded into the chamber bristling with weapons.

Justan’s opportunity to fight would soon be given to him.

“
Ohh
,
yess
.”
Ewzad moaned as he ripped the gold-inlaid box from Hamford’s hands. Quivering with pleasure, the wizard slipped the rings on one by one, feeling the power within him swell. “Now we shall see, oh yes!”

With his artifact, the wizard was able to view any event within his domain. He raised his right arm with the thumb extended up. His thumb writhed about and the air above it blurred. An image wafted in the air. Small battles raged in many areas of the dungeon, but the largest battle was taking place in the main chamber on the eighth level.

The chamber was filled with fighting men. Ewzad recognized many of the prisoners and realized that his special prisoners were among those that had escaped so far. Even with the reinforcement of his soldiers, Ewzad could see that it wasn’t going to be enough. More prisoners were being freed every minute. Luckily, only the bottom three levels had any escapees so far. If the prisoners in the upper levels of his dungeon were freed as well all would be lost.

 
“Oh, Hamford.
It doesn’t look to be going well, does it? Blast!” Ewzad cursed. He should have kept more forces around his castle.

“
Master, can I be of assistance
?” the female voice purred within his mind. Ewzad pulled the moonrat eye from its pouch.

“No my dear, not yet, this is but a minor thing. How are things at the border, Hmm?”

“
The fighting is fierce, Master, but victory is inevitable. Our army has the advantage of superior numbers. The academy forces are spread thin all over the kingdom and this border patrol numbers less than fifty strong. We will erase all evidence of the battle and the academy will have no idea what happened
,” she said, sounding proud that she was doing so well while he was having difficulties.

“Good-good-good.
Finish your task. I must focus on things here, yes?”

“
Are you sure that I cannot help? I have forces available
.”

Ewzad frowned at the superior sounding tone in her voice.

“No, no. I have other . . . resources available to me, don’t I? Hmm . . .” The wizard thought a moment.
“Hamford?”

“Yes master?”

“Would you go to the fifth level and release my babies?”

“Which ones, Master?”

“All of them.”

Hamford gulped. “All of them, Master?”