Floreskand_King Page 2

  “I agree. So what troubles them?” The earth suddenly trembled and belched. Tanellor’s eyes widened and he pointed to the far left. “Look, there!” Thin spirals of smoke issued from the mine entrance.

  “Aye, I see it, sir.” Aurelan turned, signed for his men to dismount. “Let us go down, but be prepared!”

  Aurelan led with Tanellor close behind, clambering down the steep track hewn out of the chasm wall’s side, glad to be descending. The path traversed the rock, and at certain points caves had been dug open and here wooden winches and derricks, fastened with sturdy hemp, stood creaking eerily under the weight of some abandoned ore in panniers. Dusty footprints covered the rough track but there was no sign of life.

  At the bottom of the chasm was the largest mine entrance, a jagged black opening into solid rock. From this issued intermittent puffs of grey-brown smoke. Small wagons stood by the entrance, and lumps of stone and ore lay strewn about. On the right was a shrine to Arqitor, Great Lady of the Land; the statue’s face was without any feature, smoothed by the pressure of miners’ hands venerating the goddess when going on their shift.

  With their swords drawn, the troop fanned out and jog-trotted towards the smoking cave entrance.

  Aurelan heard groaning and screams of pain. He peered into the dim cavern and called, “A torch, quick!” A soldier grabbed a discarded torch and used his tinderbox to light the shagunblend. Immediately the area around them glowed with a sickly yellow hue.

  Aurelan took the torch, held it aloft, and moved inside.

  About twelve miners lay on the rough-hewn uneven cavern floor, most of them deathly still, a few moaning or crying in pain.

  Beyond them in the flickering shadows it appeared that the cave had been blocked by fallen boulders.

  A plump daughter of Arqitor knelt with a man lying against her, his head in her lap, while she wiped his filthy brow with the sleeve of her scarlet robe. Her tears fell and washed the grime from the man’s eyes.

  Aurelan recognised the man, the overseer; his mouth was cut and bloody, lips trembling, his chest a dark smudge of blood, while his arms hung limp at his side.

  Lord Tanellor knelt by the pair and rested a hand on the Daughter. “Your name, daughter?”

  She raised her eyes, their gold-flecked irises glinting with tears. “Charja Nev, my lord.”

  “And how is he, daughter Nev?”

  Her thick lips quivered. “He will be in the embrace of My Lady very soon.”

  “Then, we must rejoice that she takes him to her bosom,” Tanellor answered by rote.

  “Yes, my lord.” She lowered her gaze and wiped the overseer’s face again.

  “Overseer,” Tanellor said, “what happened?”

  “My lord…” A cough of blood. “Riot, a riot… I told them, said you’d be here soon with the king’s soldiers…”

  Glancing about, Tanellor said, “But, how did this happen?”

  “They were defiant, my lord, would not work. I threatened them with a whip, but they just laughed, and their numbers were too great.”

  Haltingly, he recounted how the miners emerged from the cave carrying a wire-mesh cage, and the songbirds within lay dead. Fire-damp.

  At this disclosure, the Daughter gasped and a prayer tripped over her lips.

  “We were outnumbered, sixty to eight,” the overseer went on. “But Rakum, the big slow-witted one…” He coughed and winced as a spasm transfigured his face.

  “One of the king’s spies,” seethed Aurelan Crossis.

  “Aye, Rakum is that,” said Tanellor. “He reports to the treasurer and gets a small token. He thinks nobody knows…”

  “Rakum, he’s a big man.” The overseer wheezed. “He – he insisted the miners were shirking, betraying the king. Before I knew what he intended, he lit two torches and carried them towards the miners, screaming at them…”

  Another cough, a gob of blood on torn lips. Instead of overpowering the huge Rakum, the miners retreated into the mine; too work-weary to offer resistance. “He seemed insane with rage, my lord!”

  Tanellor’s features darkened with ill-concealed anger.

  Aurelan felt the blood drain from his face.

  Miners naturally had a great fear of naked flames mixing with the earth’s natural gases. Many good workers had been lost in unsuspected blasts. Lord Tanellor’s introduction of cage-birds had helped lessen the mortality rate, since they provided fair warning. Until now.

  “The gods must have addled all their brains, my lord. The gases found the naked flames.” The overseer shuddered, eyes abruptly vacant and accusing.

  “The blast did this?” Aurelan Crossis stared at the scorched cavern walls, the numerous battered bodies of men and women.

  The Daughter of Arqitor lowered the overseer to the ground and gently closed his lids.

  Tanellor stood up. “No king’s edict is worth this.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  CONTENDERS

  “To see what is right and not to do it is to want of courage.”

  – Dialogues of Meshanel

  Lord Tanellor draped his once-magnificent scarlet cloak on top of the overseer’s bloodied mutilated body, and then raised himself into an upright position. He scanned the crest of the steep, striated Oxor Rift. Through a thin miasma of blue dust, the sun flared dazzlingly, casting various shades of mauve and purple for a brief instant, and then it dropped out of sight behind the jagged rock ridge. He wiped the back of a hairy hand across his creased brow, tired and sickened by the senseless death that surrounded him. Death in war he could understand, and even condone, but this, this made his blood boil. Negligence killed these men. And, by his insistence that the miners worked longer shifts leading up to and even during the Kcarran carnival, Saurosen had murdered them as surely as if he’d struck them down himself.

  A few marks away, the towering broad-shouldered Aurelan Crossis busied himself counting corpses. Beyond, Bayuan Aco, the sergeant of the palace guard and ten of his men hauled bodies from the gaping maw of the mine. At the entrance shrine, the Daughter of Arqitor prayed intermittently and also offered a pitcher of water to the men.

  “What’s the tally now?” he asked in a weary voice.

  Aurelan did not raise his flinty grey eyes from his grisly task. He jotted figures in his dog-eared tally book. His voice boomed, a deep bass: “Seventy-four.”

  “So many?” he whispered, in despair. “I fear there are more to be recovered yet.”

  Aurelan shut his book. “Sadly, these are not merely numbers in a tally book. I know these men. Two of them even have brothers in my palace guard.” He eyed Tanellor. “Lord, we do not have the time to dig out any more.” Aurelan then stepped over the corpses and moved to Lord Tanellor’s side. His hair was short, cropped, and coppery; the lobe was missing from his right ear, the mouth a cruel line in a pitted face. An old scar ran along the left side of his neck, one of many tokens from his fighting days, Tanellor surmised. “We may have delayed too long as it is.”

  Delayed. A strange choice of word. Tanellor nodded, too drained to argue the point.

  “Bayuan!” Aurelan called to the sergeant.

  Big-boned and squat, Sergeant Bayuan approached respectfully. Beneath his triangular fair moustache, his mouth seemed to be in a permanent frown. He saluted, and removed his helmet to reveal short curling blond hair. “Captain?”

  Aurelan then gave instructions to curtail the recovery work.

  Bayuan’s tanned face twisted and a fleeting protest began on thin lips, but a stern look from Aurelan strangled the dissent.

  A roumer carrying the messenger’s pennon arrived and dismounted and crossed the uneven ground. “Captain Aurelan, I have a message for you. My regrets for its lateness, but you are a difficult man to locate.”

  Aurelan took the small scroll, broke the seal and read it. “There will be no reply.” As the roumer left, he added, “Lord, there is a death in my family in Goldalese.”

  “You must go there, then. I’m sure your sergeant can
finish off the work here and report to the palace.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Aurelan turned to his sergeant. “Lord Tanellor and I will be in the overseer’s office,” he informed Bayuan, pointing to a wooden hut. “Tell me when you’ve loaded the bodies in the wagons.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Bayuan’s dark beady eyes flashed and then, giving a perfunctory salute, he pivoted on his heel.

  Tanellor watched the sergeant go and his shoulders slumped. “There will be much wailing of widows and the gnashing of teeth tonight. These deaths will add yet more blight to the carnival.”

  “Aye, they will, my lord. Come, let us honour the dead.” Aurelan clambered over to the wooden hut, entered and held the door open for Tanellor. “Take a chair, my lord.” He gestured at one of two rickety seats next to a rough-hewn table. He shut the door and glanced about. “If my memory serves…” he mused. He crossed to a wooden shelf stacked with ledgers and eased them to one side. His eyes glinted as he held up a bottle of golden liquid.

  “Denborella wine should ease the taste of death, I think.” He removed the cork and proffered the bottle.

  Tanellor took a deep swig, grateful for its refreshing sweet taste. “May Arqitor welcome our dead with open arms while Jahdemor offers comfort to their bereaved.” He gave Aurelan the bottle.

  “Aye, my lord.” Aurelan drank. “A fitting prayer.” He wiped his mouth, and returned the bottle to Tanellor.

  “I would also drink to the newly dead in your family, but I suspect that your message had nothing to do with a death in the family.”

  “It was a little subterfuge, my lord. My sergeant is a good soldier but a little too fond of the king. The message was to confirm that about five hundred followers of mine are now camped outside Goldalese, awaiting my instructions.”

  “Five hundred is not a lot to go up against the king…”

  “It is all I can afford. I would hope others would join the endeavour as we near Lornwater.”

  “Why do you wish to overthrow the king?”

  “Saurosen has gone too far this time.” Despite being Chief of Palace Guards, Aurelan had no love for the king, so his words and tone came as no surprise.

  “Of course, but what can you do about it?”

  “It is time to choose sides, my lord. And you too must choose carefully.”

  Tanellor noticed the wording. “Clearly, you have already chosen.” He handed Aurelan the bottle.

  “I have.” Aurelan gulped thirstily, wiped his mouth. “In truth, I decided long before I was ordered to accompany you here. I was meant to dissuade you concerning the maintenance of the mines. Of course, this mine disaster serves only to bolster my conviction that I’ve chosen the correct course of action.” He raised a hand. “I know, you’re a skilled mining engineer and have even spent your own money on equipment.”

  “I do what I can, but it’s never enough.”

  “It was always inevitable,” Aurelan said, “but now the time is propitious. But I doubt if it will interfere with you. You had better choose your camp unless you’re going to offer yourself as a contender.”

  “No.” Aurelan offered the bottle again but Tanellor shook his head; the cloying sweetness cleared the dust and death from his throat, but he’d had enough. “I have no wish to become king – even if it were possible.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” Aurelan corked it and replaced the bottle behind the ledgers.

  Tanellor stroked his prominent cleft chin. “I must consider all the possibilities. Who do you think will be competing?”

  “Well, there will be three main contenders and possibly one or two outside factions.”

  “Thand, Haltese and Launette, I suppose?”

  Aurelan sat opposite Tanellor. “Yes, those are the most likely. Haltese since the Prince Royal is bound to be a strong possibility…” He frowned.

  “But?”

  “But it is for that reason that he will not survive long. Unlike some despots, Saurosen has no qualms about killing his own flesh and blood, nor are any of his cousins so queasy.”

  Tanellor grunted agreement. “Including Thand and Launette, I imagine?”

  “Your imagination does you credit, Lord Tanellor. Yes, including Thand and Launette.”

  “What about the outsiders?”

  “That will probably be a Gildmaster.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. An unscrupulous man named Olelsang.”

  “His chances?”

  Aurelan chuckled. “Nil. Even with the backing of the Gilds.”

  “What about the backing of the Red Tellar?”

  Aurelan shot him a shrewd glance and then laughed. “My Duke of Oxor, you seem to know as much of this as I do. I get the feeling I’m telling you nothing new.”

  Tanellor grinned, which was rare as he didn’t like revealing his yellow teeth, a result of his fondness for chewing the Amaril plant. “Perhaps you are not. But it is gratifying to have one’s own thoughts confirmed by you.”

  Aurelan bowed. “You do me too much honour.”

  “And how much honour do we give Olelsang if he is backed by the gilds and the Red Tellar?”

  “None, for Ulran will never back him.”

  Tanellor pursed his thin lips. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but Ulran is out of the city. His son Ranell is presently in charge of the inn and he is an unknown quantity. The prestige and renown of the inn is spread across Floreskand, and has influence.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Olelsang will undoubtedly try to enlist Ranell’s aid.”

  “What about the fanes and the assassins?”

  “I think those gilds will sit this one out. Besides, their numbers are depleted since the shadow assassin business….”

  “When you look at it, Saurosen’s only chance of survival is if the contenders eliminate each other first.”

  “So the only two main contenders are Thand and Launette.”

  Tanellor pursed his thin lips. “From your point of view, yes. The decision is easy. Thand’s father died insane and from all indications so will Thand. In fact, I have confirmation from my agents and indeed from my Sardan. And Lord-General Launette is easily the most powerful man in the land. He can count on fifty thousand men-at-arms without calling for allies. There is only one sensible choice. It will have to be Launette.”

  “I didn’t realise you had one of those,” Aurelan remarked. “With a Sardan on your side, you would be a fool to choose otherwise.”

  “Sister Hara belongs to the Lord-General but we two have an affinity and she has proved herself time and again. You would be surprised what she is capable of accomplishing.” He leaned forward, his eyes piercing Aurelan’s. “What about you?”

  “As I said, I will not interfere.”

  Lord Tanellor had already guessed what Aurelan Crossis planned. “You have no chance. You realise that.”

  “No chance of what?” asked Aurelan, his visage so full of innocence.

  “Of killing the king. Even if you had the backing of the full royal guard, which I very much doubt, you could not reach the king. Not now, because if I can deduce your intentions, I’m sure that Saurosen can. The king may be somewhat unpredictable but he is certainly not stupid.”

  Aurelan was visibly shaken. “Am I so transparent?” he whispered.

  Tanellor shrugged with regret.

  “I did not realise... Of course Saurosen isn’t stupid.” Aurelan shook his head. “I am the stupid one. The king is suspicious of me, eh?”

  “I’m not aware of your motivation, and the king’s behaviour of late suggests there may well be a queue of assassins waiting in the wings. At the very least, I suggest that this means a change of your plans. If you try to kill Saurosen, you will die, whether you succeed or fail.”

  “I know that,” Aurelan admitted. “I will not act in a cowardly fashion, but fight him man to man, if the chance arises. I must make the attempt. But I agree it would be prudent to bide my time. I’ll go to my follo
wers stationed outside Goldalese and there I will consider my next move. And in the meantime, I’ll send a messenger to explain I have been called away on family business.”

  “I didn’t know you had a family.”

  “Oh, yes. Although the king believes they reside in Goldalese, they actually live in Endawn, and he doesn’t know who they are.”

  “I admire your caution, Captain.”

  “I may be away a while.”

  “Muster your men at Dhur Bridge. I will get word to you when it is time to move on the palace.”

  Aurelan grinned. “I will do that, Lord Tanellor.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  LUGARZOS

  “A small injustice can be drowned by a cup of water;

  a great injustice can be drowned only by the sword.”

  – Tangakol Tract

  Fourth Sabin of Juvous

  Grasslands

  Four men accompanied Aurelan Crossis as he rode towards Goldalese, where his small army awaited him. Using roumer staging posts to change horses, it would take five days to reach the city. The thought of being a kingslayer grated, but in Saurosen’s case he would gladly make an exception and bury any scruples. Little did Saurosen know that they went back quite a long way! Besides, Crossis knew that he must do what Lornwater needed, and that was to spill royal blood. Question was, it wouldn’t be sufficient to settle for Saurosen; so, how many royals should he despatch?

  The journey was familiar and tedious and as the days and distance raced under his horse’s hoofs, he mulled over what had gone before.

  ***

  In Lornwater, many years ago, Crossis was known by his real name of Lin-kan Feider. His sister, Sno, was one of the court maidens. He and his family were proud of her position and her service to the king and the royal family – until one day when two men carried a wooden palanquin draped in black curtains to the door of the Lin-kan family home.