Shadow of the Knight Read online

“We can’t do that.”

  “Then be ready to be crushed to death. Those people outside will do anything for you. But if you ask them to do this, you ask them to commit suicide.”

  Orlos stood, staring at the stone blockage. He had to get past it. There was no choice for him.

  “I’m heading back up,” Fendal said.

  Orlos nodded. After a while he stepped closer to the rubble and then climbed atop a few of the larger stones. There was a crevice at the top, wide enough to crawl through.

  How far does it go? All the way?

  He lifted the lamp for a better view. It seemed deep, but it was hard to tell. He might be able to fit through. For a moment Orlos thought of putting the lamp down, but then he pushed it into the crack ahead of him. He didn’t truly need it, but it would help him make out fine details. He didn’t want to miss anything.

  Gritting his teeth, Orlos squeezed his shoulders through the gap. Then he heard a muffled voice behind him. “Orlos, get out of there!”

  He pulled back and found Kael standing behind him, a lantern in hand. “What are you doing? If that rock shifts you’ll be killed.”

  “I was just looking,” Orlos said, with a glance over his shoulder.

  “I know exactly what you were doing. Fendal told me of the danger. Let’s get out of here. We’ll speak with the masons and the carpenters and make a plan to get through this.”

  “Honestly, I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “Stop it, Orlos. Your mother will kill you if she finds out. Let’s go back to the house and eat. You look like death.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Kael laughed. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away with that. You lead the way out.”

  “I’m not a child, Kael. I’m the last spiridus. I can make my own decisions.”

  “You know what you are to me? A seventeen year old boy who can turn himself invisible.”

  Orlos stood straight. “Seventeen is not a boy.”

  “Prove it, and don’t be an ass. Go home to your mother. Eat a meal. Try to sleep. Maybe tonight will be better.”

  Orlos walked past him and started up the passage. “It won’t Kael. It won’t.”

  They left, climbing the stairs and emerging into late afternoon sun. There weren’t as many people around now. Two wardens relaxed near the stairwell in the shadow of a broken wall. Fendal and a mason talked nearby.

  “We’re heading back for a meal,” Kael said to the men. “We’ll meet again this evening to talk about our plans.” The two men nodded.

  Kael gave one of the wardens a look.

  “Don’t worry. We won’t let anyone in,” he said before Kael had a chance to open his mouth.

  Kael and Orlos walked through the gardens towards their house. “There’s news from Salador,” Kael said.

  “What’s that?” Orlos asked, not really caring. All he could think about was the tunnel and what lay beyond it.

  “Prince Handrin has gone missing.”

  “Truly? Missing how?”

  “Depends who’s telling the story, apparently. According to the queen, the prince has gone off on a retreat to explore his elementar power. According to the people who don’t like her, she’s had him killed.”

  Orlos glanced at Kael. “What do you think?”

  “For all these years she’s been mad about protecting her son. I don’t see her killing him now.”

  They reached the house and walked in the front door. Orlos smelled food cooking and was surprised to find himself famished. “We’ll eat on the terrace,” Mother called without looking out of the kitchen. “Wash up. And tell your brother and sisters to clean up as well.”

  Orlos shouted up the stairs, “Wash up!”

  “Well done,” Kael said.

  Orlos shrugged and walked through the kitchen and out the side door, giving his mother a kiss as he passed. “So what do you think happened, Kael?” he called over his shoulder. “Where’s the prince?”

  “I’ll tell you where he is,” Mother said. “He’s run away from that nasty hag.”

  “Mother!” Calen said in mock outrage. She was always so proper. It was the Saladoran in her. She had plenty of reason to hate the queen, though.

  Calen went to the trough and scrubbed his hands and his face. His mad twin sisters joined him there, splashing and laughing. More reserved, his brother waited until the chaos ended.

  “Maybe he’s gone to raise a revolt against her,” Kael said from the kitchen. “He’ll take Forsvar and make himself king.”

  “I wish it were so,” Mother said. “Get yourselves to the terrace. We’ll eat now.”

  The family gathered around the large stone table and dined on venison stew, nut bread, and fresh vegetables from the garden. There was hard cider for Calen, Kael and Mother, and fresh water for the children. The children wanted to talk to Orlos about what they would find in the tunnels, but Mother hushed them. She tried to move the topic on to other things, but Orlos couldn’t keep his mind from the blocked passage.

  After dinner Orlos’s brother and sisters demanded he practice archery with them. He took them out to an open field where a butt was set up. Each child had a bow, and they took turns trying to hit sticks from twenty strides.

  Orlos couldn’t focus. Whenever it wasn’t his turn, his eyes wandered out across the terrace towards the old temple. His sisters grew angry, first that he wasn’t hitting the sticks like he usually could, and secondly that he wasn’t paying any attention to them.

  The sun was low on the horizon when Kael came out. “I’m going to meet with the masons and the carpenters,” he said to Orlos. “Do you want to come?”

  Orlos shook his head. “I think I’ll try to sleep. I’m exhausted, and I won’t be able to contribute in any case.”

  “You should sleep. You need it. We’ll be back at work in the morning.”

  When he had departed, Orlos unstrung all of the bows and led the children back to the house. “Wash up,” he said. “Get ready for bed.”

  “Will you dig all night?” Melas asked. “Can I help?”

  “Not tonight. You heard Kael. We won’t start until morning.”

  Orlos went to the kitchen where Mother was finishing cleaning up. “What do you think about the prince going missing?” Mother asked. “Maybe he’ll come here. There aren’t many places where he could find shelter.”

  Orlos shrugged. “He could talk elementar affairs with Fendal, and the new family that arrived. I wonder if he’d approve of what Sulentis is doing.”

  “He was a nice boy. Did I tell you that I met him?”

  “The prince? Only a few dozen times.”

  “He was just a little kid. But then again, I wasn’t much older.” She stared out the window into the garden.

  “You don’t miss it, do you?”

  Mother shook her head. “I was a different person back there. Just a foolish girl. I’m much happier here even if I have to do my own chores.”

  “You should get Melas, Quellas, and Rellas to help you.”

  “Oh yeah? And what about you?”

  “That reminds me. I was going to bed early. I want to try and get some sleep.”

  She gave him a kind smile. “You should. You’ve lost weight. And if you looked in a mirror, you’d see the bags under your eyes.”

  Orlos gave his mother a hug. “I’ll be fine. We’ll pass the blockage, and the nightmares will end. I’m certain of it.”

  “Rest well.”

  Orlos went up to his room, stopping to say goodnight to his brother and sisters. He closed the door to his own room, took off his boots and his belt, and lay down in bed. He didn’t change. There was no need to.

  He closed his eyes in the near dark and listened to the last birds of the evening. Let everyone settle in and then head out the window. Orlos wouldn’t sleep. He knew what would come of it.

  Chanting pulled his attention out the window. Deep rhythmic chanting that couldn’t be ignored. It irresistibly drew him to the window. Outside, the t
emple gleamed in the moonlight, its dome rising gracefully into the night sky.

  Impossible. The temple was destroyed.

  All across the terrace, figures moved in the moonlight, drawn by the chanting. No! This is a dream.

  Orlos clawed against the sleep that held him. He had to wake up. I don’t need the nightmare to draw me. I’ll go!

  I’ll go! he shouted.

  He woke in the dark of the night. Had he really called out? Had he awakened anyone?

  Orlos sat up in bed, listening for the sounds of anyone stirring. The house was utterly silent. He looked out the window and saw the ruins in the moonlight. There had to be a way.

  He pulled on his boots and fastened his belt, double checking to make certain his fire kit was in his belt pouch. Taking a deep breath, he drew his spiridus cloak over him. In moments he was out the window and striding across the ruins.

  The guards were still there—or their replacements. Both were asleep. Orlos crept past them and down the stairs. He felt the weight of rock over him as he plunged deeper and deeper into the dark. His mother and Kael had told him how it wasn’t the same for them. They were completely blind in full dark.

  But their children weren’t. Melas, Quellas, and Rellas all had the vision of the Landomeri, although no one could see as well in full dark as Orlos could. If his brother and sisters could see like Landomeri, it had to do with being born under the Great Spirit.

  Orlos got to the blockage and lit his lamp. He picked up a short pry bar and climbed up the rubble. There had to be a way through. He couldn’t bear the thought of waiting weeks for the passage to be cleared. The nightmares would drive him mad. Either that, or the lack of sleep would do it.

  Pushing the lamp ahead of him, Orlos crawled through the crevice. It was barely large enough to squeeze through. The tin lamp gave off little more light than a candle, but it was much smaller than a lantern and was easy to handle in the confined spaces. It was enough light to show him that the crevice continued further.

  He could make it. He had to.

  It was hard to judge how far he went. He pushed the thought of how much stone hung over him out of his head. It hadn’t moved for five hundred years, and wouldn’t move now.

  There was barely room to raise his head, and he could do no more than crawl. The stone ripped his clothing and scraped his knees and elbows.

  Mother will be furious.

  The crevice stopped. A stone blocked his way. Orlos moved the lamp left and right but saw no way past it. There was space beyond it. The crevice went on if he could just get past this blockage. He reached out with his hand and pushed the rock, but it wouldn’t move.

  Orlos pushed the pry bar ahead of him and struck the rock. It was a weak blow, and the rock didn’t budge. He shifted his position so that he could get a better swing, striking the rock harder. It was solidly wedged into the gap ahead.

  He tried to back up but couldn’t. His belt had snagged on the rocks. He struggled harder, the rock biting into his back, but he couldn’t move. And then he discovered that he couldn’t get his arms down to his waist. The passage was just too narrow.

  A chill of fear ran up Orlos’s spine. There was no way out. He put down the lamp and the pry bar and pushed back as hard as he could. He didn’t move at all. His lower legs could move, but somewhere below his shoulder blades, near the small of his back, he was stuck. He twisted and writhed, panic rising as he struggled to get free, but still he couldn’t move.

  Orlos’s vision started to go black. What was happening? Was there not enough air? Somewhere, something deep in his mind told him that he had to be calm. That panic would kill him. He reached deep into that place and tried to draw his spiridus cloak over himself.

  The shadows eluded him. All he could think of were the tons of rock that would smash him. His body would never be discovered. No, they would find it and it would be….

  Orlos closed his eyes against the flickering lamplight. In his mind he saw a light—a bright pinpoint of silver-green. Was it the Great Spirit? Or even his own spiridus spirit? His thoughts dove toward the light and it grew until it engulfed him. He felt his spiridus cloak enshroud him.

  His vision grew clearer, and his breath slowed. He let himself become one with his spiridus nature. He couldn’t die here. He had to bring light to the chamber that lay beyond.

  There was a chamber. He knew it. It was the tomb of the spiridus. The Great Spirit wanted him to reveal it. She wanted them to be at peace, to have a proper burial, and not to lie in the chamber where the veden had massacred them.

  After a time, he didn’t know how long, he opened his eyes. The lamp guttered before him. He examined the rock that blocked his path. Orlos pushed the pry bar forward and wedged it under the rock. He had very little leverage, but he put both hands on the bar and pulled down.

  The rock moved. Not much, but enough to give him hope. He moved the bar to the side and tried again. The rock turned. It didn’t move far, but as it spun it moved away from him. He moved the bar and pushed again. The rock moved. Further.

  Three more times, he levered the rock. A gap opened to one side of it. Stale, dead air wafted past him, and the lamp went out. A dread chill went down his back. Not from the lack of light. There was something dark near, something malevolent. Orlos froze and drew his spiridus cloak tighter around him.

  Dead silence. There could be nothing alive down here. It was impossible. Nothing stirred except the slightest breeze of stale air wafting past him.

  There was evil near. Unmistakable evil. Pushing his head to the side, he looked past the gap. There was a dull red glow beyond the stone. It didn’t flicker like firelight nor did it show as the yellow light of a fire. It was a deep, ominous red.

  Time meant nothing as Orlos lay listening. The silence was absolute. The presence he felt—the feeling he was not alone—could not be escaped, but whatever was with him was utterly and completely silent. There was no going back. Orlos was helpless and alone.

  How long could he remain silent and cloaked in his tomb of rock? At some point he had to leave his place of hiding. And if there was something waiting for him, it must have heard his approach already.

  If he got the rock out of the way, he would have to leave the tunnel and hide. He had only the pry bar to defend himself with. And he knew the focus it took to keep the cloak over him could not be maintained in a fight.

  He had to go forward. There was no choice.

  Orlos’s hand bumped his lamp. He picked it up and shook it. There was still oil in it. He put it to the side so that he wouldn’t accidentally break it.

  As quietly as he could, he put the pry bar under the rock and tried to lever it out of the way. It shifted in place, the sound frighteningly loud in the silence of the tunnel. It shifted, but it wouldn’t move any further. He tried the bar in various places, but nothing worked.

  If he truly weren’t alone, the noise he made would have alerted anyone nearby.

  The time for subtlety was past. The rock was wedged in, but maybe he could chip it, or some of the surrounding stone away. Twisting on his side, he took the pry bar in both hands and jammed it into the stone.

  A few small flakes came off. He struck it again to the same result. He pushed at the stone, but it wouldn’t move. Gritting his teeth, Orlos hammered at the stone, over and over again. Sweat poured from him as he attacked the stone.

  He had to get out. He had to be free of his stone sepulcher. He no longer cared what presence lay beyond the rock. The nightmares had to be defeated. The madness had to stop.

  There was a terrible crack and the cave shifted. The rock in front of Orlos shattered into tiny fragments under the pressure. As he caught his breath, the stone around him groaned as if in agony.

  Orlos scrambled forward, filled with panic. He shoved the stone splinters away as he desperately pulled himself free of the maw that threatened to close on him.

  There was open space in front of him, and he toppled forward, free of the surrounding stone. The tunn
el collapsed behind him as he fell several strides onto a surface that crunched and cracked under him.

  A stone fell and struck him on the shoulder. Orlos raised his arms over his head, waiting for the boulder that would crush him, but it never came. He coughed in the dust that surrounded him, but as he got control of his breathing, silence again fell.

  Orlos lowered his arms and opened his eyes. Red light suffused the cavern.

  He sat on a bed of bones. A skull leered up at him.

  Orlos scrambled to his feet, bones cracking and shifting under him. It wasn’t just one corpse. There were layers of bones so thick he couldn’t see the floor under them.

  As he raised his head he saw a carpet of skeletons filling the largest room he’d ever seen. A high vaulted ceiling rose overhead, carved out of the very rock itself.

  In the very center of the chamber a red crystal rose like the trunk of a tree. It glowed, pulsing with a red heartbeat as if alive. Orlos shrank back from it, freezing as bones crunched under his feet.

  He turned, desperate to leave the terrible place, but the passage was closed under tons of rock. He was trapped. His eyes searched the room for some other sign of an exit, but there was none.

  The red crystal drew his attention again. He looked up from it and saw that it truly was the base of a tree. High above, green crystal branches spread out like a canopy, intertwining with the intricately carved ceiling. The green branches gave off their own light, far weaker than the fiery red of the stump.

  The trunk was missing, though. Shattered. He saw chunks of it lying amongst the piled skeletons.

  The spiridus. This is where they died.

  How many skeletons lay in the chamber? Thousands? His nightmares flashed through his mind. The veden had drawn the spiridus here, powerless against their terrible magic. The veden had sacrificed their own people to create spells powerful enough to compel the spiridus to come to their deaths.

  Orlos stared at the glowing crystal. There the chief of the veden had stood, blade in hand, cutting down the spiridus and pouring their blood over the stump of their sacred crystal tree.

  Bones crunched as Orlos approached the stone. Some part of him said that it was wrong to step on the mortal remains of the spiridus, but he couldn’t help himself. The crystal called to him.