The Crown conspiracy trr-1 Read online

  "Old Speech?"

  "The ancient imperial language. Few people outside the clergy know it these days. It is something of a dead language. Even in the days of the empire it was only used in church services, but that has gone out of style and no one writes in it anymore."

  With that Myron became silent once more.

  – 3 -They turned away from the lakeside and started into a broad ravine that turned rocky as they climbed. The more they progressed the more apparent it was to Royce that they were traveling on what was once a road. The path was too smooth to be wholly natural, and yet over time, rocks had fallen from the heights and cracks formed where weeds forced themselves out of the crevices. Centuries had taken their toll, but there remained a faint trace of something ancient and forgotten.

  Royce and Alric were riding more or less together. Hadrian and Myron lagged behind due to their horse carrying two. Before long, the ground stopped rising and leveled. Royce reined in his mount.

  "Why are we stopping?" Alric asked.

  "Have you forgotten that this might be a trap?"

  "No," the prince said, "I am quite aware of that fact."

  "Good, then in that case good luck, Your Majesty," Royce told him.

  "You're not coming?"

  "Your sister only asked us to bring you here. If you want to get yourself killed, that is your affair. Our obligation is complete."

  "Then I suppose this is a perfect time to tell you I am officially bestowing the title of Royal Protectors upon you and Hadrian. Now that I am certain you aren't trying to kill me. You two will be responsible for defending the life of your king."

  "Really? How thoughtful of you, Your Highness," Royce grinned. "I also suppose this is a good time to tell you, I don't serve kings-unless they pay me."

  "No?" Alric smiled wryly. "All right then, consider it this way. If I live to return to Essendon Castle, I will be happy to rescind your execution order and will forget your unlawful entry of my castle. If however, I should die here, or if I'm taken captive and locked away forever in this prison, you will never be able to return to Medford. My uncle will identify you, if he hasn't already, and you will be labeled murderers of the highest order. I'm sure there are already men searching for you. Uncle Percy seems like a courtly old gentleman, but believe me, I have seen his other side and he can be downright scary. He's the best swordsman in Melengar. Did you know that? So if sovereign loyalty isn't good enough for you, you might consider the simple practical benefits of keeping me alive."

  "The ability to convince others that your life is worth more than theirs must be a prerequisite for being king."

  "Not a prerequisite, but it certainly helps," Alric replied with a grin.

  "It will still cost you," Royce said and the prince's grin faded. "Let's say one hundred gold tenents."

  "One hundred?" Alric protested.

  "It's what DeWitt promised, so it seems only fair. And if we are to be your security, you'll do as I say. I can't protect you if you don't, and since we aren't just playing with your silly little life, but my future as well, I will have to insist."

  Alric huffed and glowered, but he eventually nodded. "Like all good rulers, it is understood there are times when we know it is best to listen to skilled advisors. Just remember who I am, and who I will be when I return to Medford."

  As the fighter and the monk caught up, Royce said, "Hadrian, we've just been promoted to Royal Protectors."

  "Does it pay more?"

  "Actually it does. It also weighs less. Give the prince back his sword."

  Hadrian handed the huge sword of Amrath to Alric, who slipped the broad, ornate baldric over one shoulder and strapped on the weapon. Wearing it looked a bit less foolish now that he was dressed and mounted, but Royce thought it was still too large for him.

  "Wylin took this off my father and handed it to me…was it only two nights past? It was Tolin Essendon's sword, handed down from king to prince for seven hundred years. We are one of the oldest unbroken families in Avryn."

  Royce dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Hadrian. "I'm going to scout up ahead and make sure there are no surprises waiting." He left with surprising swiftness in a hunched run. He entered the shadows of the ravine and vanished.

  – 4 -"How does he do that?" Alric asked.

  "Creepy, isn't it?" Hadrian remarked.

  "How did he do what?" Myron asked, studying a cattail he plucked just before they left the lakeside. "These things are marvelous by the way."

  They waited for several minutes and when they heard a bird song, Hadrian ordered them forward. The broken road weaved to and fro a bit until they could once again see the lake below. They were now much higher, and the lake looked like a large bright puddle. The road narrowed until at last it stopped. To either side hills rose at a gradual slope. Directly in front the path ended at a straight sheer cliff extending upward several hundred feet.

  "Are we in the wrong place?" Hadrian asked.

  "It's supposed to be a hidden prison," Alric reminded them.

  "I just assumed," Hadrian said, "being up here in the middle of nowhere was what was meant by hidden. I mean, if you didn't know the prison was here, would you come to such a place?"

  "If this was made by the best minds of what was left of the Empire," Alric said, "it is likely to be hard to find and harder to enter."

  "Legends hold it was mostly constructed by dwarves," Myron explained.

  "Lovely," Royce said miserably. "It's going to be another Drumindor."

  "We had issues getting into a dwarf-constructed fortress in Tur Del Fur a few years back," Hadrian explained. "It wasn't pretty. We might as well get comfortable; this could take a while."

  Royce searched the cliff. The stone directly before the path was exposed as if recently sheered off, and while moss and small plants grew among the many cracks elsewhere, none was found anywhere near the cliff face.

  "There's a door here I know it," the thief said, running his hands lightly across the stone. "Damn dwarves. I can't find a hinge, crack, or seam."

  "Myron," Alric asked, "did you read anything about how to open the door to the prison? I've heard tales about dwarves having a fondness for riddles and sometimes they make keys out of sounds, words that when spoken unlock doors."

  Myron shook his head as he climbed down off the horse.

  "Words that unlock doors?" Royce looked at the prince skeptically. "Are these fairytales you're listening to?"

  "An invisible door sounds like a fairytale to me," Alric replied. "So it seems appropriate."

  "It's not invisible. You can see the cliff, can't you? It's merely well hidden. Dwarves can cut stone with such precision you can't see a gap."

  "You do have to admit, Royce, what dwarves can do with stone is amazing," Hadrian added.

  Royce glared over his shoulder at him. "Don't talk to me."

  Hadrian smiled. "Royce doesn't much care for the wee folk."

  "Open in the name of Novron!" Alric suddenly shouted with a commanding tone, his voice echoing between the stony slopes.

  Royce spun around and fixed the prince with a withering stare. "Don't do that again!"

  "Well, you weren't making any progress. I just thought perhaps since this was, or is, a Church prison, maybe a religious command would unlock it. Myron, is there some standard Church saying to open a door? You should know about this. Is there such a thing?"

  "I am not a priest of Nyphron. The Winds Abbey was a monastery of Maribor."

  "Oh, that's right," Alric said, looking disappointed.

  "I mean I know about the Church of Nyphron," Myron clarified, "but I'm not a member of that religion so I wouldn't be privy to any secret codes or chants or such."

  "What I don't understand," Hadrian said, dismounting and tying his horse to a nearby tree, "is why Arista sent us here knowing we couldn't get in?"

  The day was growing dark and the wind had picked up, heralding another possible storm. Hadrian was careful to lash the horses tightly for fear the
wind might spook them. Alric walked about, rubbing his legs and muttering about being saddle sore. Myron continued to watch the horses with fascination, summoning the nerve every so often to stroke their necks.

  "Would you like to help me unsaddle them?" Hadrian asked. "I don't think we'll be leaving soon."

  "Of course," the monk said eagerly. "Now, how do I do that?"

  Together, Hadrian and Myron relieved the animals of their saddles and packs, and stowed their gear under a small rock ledge. Hadrian suggested Myron gather some grass for the animals while he approached Royce, who sat on the path staring at the cliff. Occasionally, the thief would get up, examine a portion of the wall, and sit back down grumbling.

  "Well? How's it going?"

  "I hate dwarves," Royce replied.

  "Most people do."

  "Yes, but I have a reason. The bastards are the only ones that can make boxes I can't open."

  "You'll open it. It won't be pretty, and it won't be soon, but you'll open it."

  Royce sat on his haunches, his cloak draped out around him. His eyes remained focused, but he was frustrated. "I can't even see it. If I could see it then maybe, but how can I break a lock when I can't even find the door?"

  "Maybe more information would help," Hadrian suggested. He looked around and found Myron walking back to the horses with a few handfuls of weeds he had plucked. "Myron, tell me, what is the difference between Nyphrons and you monks?"

  "Well, how much do you know about religion in general?"

  Royce let out a small chuckle. Hadrian ignored him. "Just start at the beginning, Myron. And pretend I don't know much at all."

  "Oh," the monk nodded. "Well," he began as if reciting a well-remembered liturgy. "Erebus created Elan, which, of course, is the known world, everything we see, the sky and ground. He made it so his children would have a place to rule. He had three sons and one daughter. His eldest son he named Ferrol. Ferrol is a master of magic and created the elves. His second son was Drome. He is the master craftsman, and he created the dwarves. His youngest son is Maribor and he created Man. His daughter is Muriel, and she created the animals, the birds, and the fish in the sea.

  "Now, Ferrol being the oldest, his children, the elves, dominated the entire surface of Elan. Drome's children also grew great and controlled the world underground. Maribor's children, mankind, had no place. We struggled to survive in the most wretched, desolate places that the elves and dwarves didn't want.

  "Then it came to pass that Erebus, in a drunken rage, forced himself on Muriel. From this union was born Uberlin, the Dark One. He, too, created children in Elan, and they are the Ghazel, the Dacca, and all the other creatures of shadow. Outraged at the crime, Ferrol, Drome, and Maribor attacked their father and slew him. Uberlin tried to defend his father, and they turned on him. They nearly killed Uberlin as well, but Muriel, sickened at her father's death, begged for his life. Instead, they cast Uberlin down and locked him within the depths of Elan.

  "His children, however, grew in number and began to take what little the children of Maribor had managed to acquire. Losing their tiny footholds, mankind begged Maribor for help, and he heard their pleas. He tricked his brother Drome into forging the great sword Rhelacan, although in some very old text it is referred to as a great horn. He convinced his other brother Ferrol to enchant the weapon. Then Maribor came to Elan in disguise and slept with a mortal woman. The union brought forth Novron the Great. Armed with the Rhelacan, Novron led mankind in a war against the elves, the dwarves, and the forces of shadow. In a few short years, mankind subdued them all.

  "Angry about the subjugation of their children by a demigod, Ferrol and Drome unleashed Uberlin with the promise of permanent freedom if he slew Novron. Twisted and misshapen after eons of darkened captivity, their half brother met Novron in battle. They fought for three days that shook Elan. In the end, Uberlin, severely wounded, crawled back into the bowels of the world, but Novron was worse. The mortal son of Maribor was pierced through the heart and died, his spirit returning to his father's side.

  "Novron's son became the new Emperor, and soon the Great Church of Nyphron was established to pay homage to Novron as god and the son of Maribor. The Nyphron Church became the official religion of the Empire, but farther away from the imperial capital of Percepliquis, people remembered the old ways and continued to worship Maribor as they always had. The people called these wandering priests of the old religion Monks of Maribor. Eventually, with the fall of the Empire, the monks became more prominent and established monasteries. There is much more to the story, of course, but that is a basic overview," Myron said.

  "So," Hadrian began, "you monks worship Maribor while the Nyphron worship Novron?"

  "Close," the monk said, "the Nyphron also worship Maribor, they just put emphasis on Novron. The main differences are really in the manner of worship. The Church focuses on public worship. They are very involved in guiding society, as they believe the birth of Novron demonstrates Maribor wanted his worshipers to take a direct hand in controlling the fate of mankind. As such, they are very involved in politics and warfare. We monks believe in a more personal devotion to Maribor. We seek out his will in the quiet places, through the ancient rituals and in this silence; he speaks to us in our hearts. We don't so much seek to do what Maribor wants, but rather to merely learn to know Maribor better."

  "Well, thank you, Myron," Hadrian said. "That was very educational, but I'm afraid I didn't find anything in that which would help us with our current situation."

  "I'm sorry I wasn't a help," Myron said in a disappointed tone.

  During the monk's tale, Hadrian had found a comfortable seat next to Alric, with his back against the cliff wall. After checking on the horses once more, Myron joined them. Royce remained studying the cliff. No one disturbed his concentration.

  Storm clouds covered the sky and darkened the ravine. What light remained was an odd hue adding a sense of the surreal to the landscape. Soon the wind began gusting through the pass, blowing dirt into the air. In the distance, they could hear the low rumble of thunder.

  "Any luck with the door, Royce?" Hadrian asked. His legs were outstretched, and he tapped the tips of his boots together. "Because it looks like we're in for another cold, wet night, only tonight we won't have any shelter."

  Royce muttered something none of them caught.

  Down below them, framed by the walls of the ravine, they could still see the shimmering surface of the lake. It was still a pale gray, but now it shined like a mirror facing the sky. Every now and then, it would flash brilliantly when lightning flickered in the distance.

  Royce grumbled again.

  "What's that?" Hadrian asked.

  "I was just thinking about what you said earlier. Why would she send us here if she knew we couldn't get in? She must have thought we could, maybe to her it was obvious."

  "Maybe it's magic," Alric said, pulling his cloak tighter.

  "Enough with the enchanted words," Royce told him. "Locks are mechanical. Believe me, I know a bit about this subject. Dwarves are very clever and very skilled, but they don't make doors that unlock by a sound."

  "I just brought it up because Arista could do some, so maybe getting in is easy for her."

  "Do some what?" Hadrian asked.

  "Magic."

  "Your sister is a witch?" Myron asked disturbed.

  Alric laughed. "You could certainly say that, yes, but it has little to do with her magical capabilities. She studied at Sheridan University for a few years learning magical theory. It never amounted to much, but she was able to do a thing or two. She magically locks the door to her room, and I am certain she made the Countess Amril terribly sick one day when she betrayed a trust and told a squire Arista fancied him. Poor Amril was covered in boils for a week."

  Royce looked over at Alric. "What do you mean magically locks her door?"

  "There's never been a lock on it, but no one can open it but her."

  "Did you ever see your sister unlock he
r door?"

  Alric shook his head. "I wish I had."

  "Myron," Royce said, turning to the monk, "did you ever read about unusual locks, or keys? Maybe something associated with dwarves?"

  "There's the tale of Iberius and the Giant, where Iberius uses a key forged by dwarves to open the giant's treasure box, but it wasn't magical. It was just big. There's also the Collar of Liem, from the Myth of the Forgotten, that refused to unlock until the wearer was dead-I guess that doesn't help you. There's also gemlocks."

  "What are gemlocks?"

  "They're not magical either, but they were invented by dwarves. Gems interact with other stones by creating a low resonance, or subtle vibrations. Gemlocks were created to be used when an individual key was impractical, for example when a great number of people needed to access the contents of a locked container, or when someone needed to be able to open a lock but would not be able to have access to a single key. All they needed to have was a gem of matching type. The wealthy sent messages in gemlocked boxes, using expensive stones for keys which made it hard for a poor courier to obtain. For particularly clever locks, the gemlock might require a specific cut, which modified the resonance. Truly gifted crafters could make a lock that actually changed with the seasons, allowing different gems to unlock it at different times of the year. This is what gave rise to the idea of birthstones, for certain stones have more strength at certain times."

  "That's it," Royce interrupted.

  "What's it?" Alric asked. Royce reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a dark blue ring. Alric jumped to his feet. "That's my father's ring! Give it to me!"

  "Fine," Royce said tossing it toward the prince. "Your sister told us to return it to you when we got to the prison."

  "She did?" Alric looked surprised. He slipped the ring on his finger, and like his sword, it did not quite fit and spun around from the weight of the gem. "I thought she took it. It has the royal seal. She could have used it to muster the nobles, to make laws, or to announce herself as steward. With it, she could have taken control of everything."