First, where had this foreign army come from and who were they. Their standards were not any army with which the duke was familiar. Many members of the host were more ruffian or zealot than soldier. And their General Stone—there was something unnatural and frightening about him, and the duke was not a man to frighten easily. It did not make sense. This army had obviously been en-route to Pozzelby Castle for some time. They could not have approached without Tabor Till knowing. Indeed, General Till seemed to have been expecting them. Yet he had been decrying the murder of King Ardwulf as the work of foreign interests.
More troubling to Grimwulf was the behavior of his advisor, Callis. Since they had left for the trip, Callis had been acting strangely—so had his officers for that matter. Callis had become more focused, and since arriving at Pozzelby Castle, with the exception of the time that he had spent in the infirmary, he seemed taken with an indefatigable energy coupled with a manic drive. Callis inexplicably seemed to hold a great deal of influence over the proceedings, though he denied any foreknowledge of what was occurring. Grimwulf was not overly given to deep thought, but he was not necessarily a stupid man. He had seen Callis confer with and even issue orders to Tabor Till.
Dexter had felt that Grimwulf was involved with the deaths of Ardwulf and the others because he claimed to have discovered secret messages being sent from Bleakmoor Castle to Pozzelby Castle and back. Grimwulf had been angry and automatically assumed that it was some blatant attempt to incriminate him in something with which he’d had nothing to do. Then Tabor Till had helped him to escape and told him about his evidence that Dexter, along with the Pulgh man, Myrick, and the others had engineered the murders—it had seemed to make sense. It also made sense that they would try to put the responsibility on him.
Now he was no longer sure of what was true. Maybe someone had been sending messages from Bleakmoor to Pozzelby—not Grimwulf, but Callis. The duke hated to admit it, but lately he had found himself more and more dependent on Callis’ advice. In fact, Callis had been the one that had insisted that their best move was to come to Pozzelby Castle immediately. Callis had been the one who first brought him the news of the murders—only a day after the heinous acts were committed. Callis had even picked the officers who had come with them. The advisor always made it seem as though the ideas came from Grimwulf, but the duke now saw that rarely had his ideas been his own.
“My Lord? You are still awake? It is midnight.” Callis was at the door of his room. “You should rest. It won’t be long before the rebels are defeated and the castle is taken. Then you will rightfully assume the throne.”
“Why are you here, Callis?” Grimwulf asked.
“My Lord? I saw the light on...”
“No, what is your purpose for bringing me here in the first place? You have been my advisor for twenty years. Have your loyalties been divided all this time?”
“My Lord, you are weary and know not of which you speak,” Callis said in a placating tone. “My loyalty has never been divided.”
“Very well, then return to Bleakmoor now,” Grimwulf ordered the old man. “Take Fenris and Nerull and return home tonight. That is my command.”
Callis’ skeletal face looked pinched and his eyes narrowed.
“But King Grimwulf, this is your rightful home. The throne is yours and this is where I am needed, at your side. I yearn only to serve you.” Callis’ voice was even and soft.
Grimwulf thought that his advisor’s words made perfect sense. He started to tell Callis that he was right, then stopped. Why had he changed his mind so quickly? It wasn’t right. He shook his head, which felt full of cotton. He had to get control of the situation immediately. Grimwulf leaned over Callis and set his jaw, staring down at the old man. There was no mistaking his posture. But the older man did not shrink back or yield in any way. He locked Grimwulf with his own withering gaze and it was the duke who stepped back.
Callis was mildly surprised that Grimwulf had been able to assert himself. He had subtly been manipulating the duke for years, but was prepared to enslave Grimwulf’s mind overtly if need be. After all, Callis was a member of the Black Star Sect, the master sect of Garegon’s high priests; Grimwulf, dullard he was could never resist him.
Shouts from the castle grounds interrupted whatever might have happened next. The tension between the two men broke and Grimwulf ran to the door. Men were running toward the Twelve Sect Order army’s encampment, where hairy, squat black figures were attacking.
“Soldier, what’s happening?” Grimwulf called out to one of the Pozzelby regulars.
“Goblins, Sire. Thousands of them, coming from the castle or underground, I’m not sure which.”
The goblins swarmed over the enemy siege weapons and caught those resting in the camp by complete surprise. The enemy army outnumbered the goblins, but the enemy forces were spread out and approximately half of their men were in or near the castle, where they were very close to overrunning the castle guard’s final defensive position. The battle for the castle had been going on for close to eighteen hours at that point. The enemy had sufficient men to press the guard continuously while rotating out and resting at least half of their men at any given time. It was those resting men who now came under attack. Many were killed, both Twelve Sect Order and Pozzelbian, before they even knew there was danger.
Grimwulf drew his sword and went outside. This at least was something he was comfortable doing. He quickly organized a group of a dozen or so Pozzelbian soldiers into a wedge formation and took them into the nearest mass of goblins.
Inside, the offensive stalled. As news of the attack to the rear advanced, it forced Tabor Till to order back more than half of his men that were inside of the castle, leaving only a force sufficient to keep the defenders bottled up in the vicinity of the north hall. By the time the forces from inside got out and organized the goblin attack was twenty minutes old and a great deal of damage had been done. The addition of the new troops was sufficient to push back the goblins. By one o’clock in the morning, the goblin attack was over. They had finally retreated toward the west side of the mountain and disappeared, no doubt into some underground escape route.
“General Till,” asked one of his officers. “Shall we send the men back into the castle to continue the assault?”
Tabor Till glanced at Garris Stone, whose face was hidden behind a black helmet. Stone said nothing and gave no indication of caring one way or another—evidently it was up to General Till. He looked over his camp; it was in disarray. Men had been killed in their sleep and many tents and siege weapons had been burned or otherwise destroyed.
“No. We’ll resume the attack in the morning. Organize parties to get the camp cleaned up and allow the men to rest,” he said. Stone made no comment. He simply turned and went to his tent.
****
With Theof accompanying us, the hallways of the old castle seemed neither old nor forbidding. Theof had lived in this section of the castle and his stories made it seem alive.
“That was my bedroom for a while,” the elf said pointing to a door on the left. “Later, I moved into a suite that had easier access to the gardens.”
“Theof, do you know where the royal library is?” I asked hopefully.
Before he could answer, we heard a tremendous roar, followed by the unmistakable sound of a man screaming in primal fear. I did not recognize the voice of the screamer, but Brin did right away.
“That would be my father,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I should probably have a look,” said Theof. “Wait here.”
Theof pulled his hood up and moved quickly in the direction of the screaming. After one or two steps, he disappeared completely in the darkness. I pulled out my sword and tried to look more competent than I felt.
“Come on,” said Brin after a moment, and she started off toward the yelling too.
“Brin, wait. Theof told us...” I said, reaching for he
r arm, but she was already ahead of me.
“I know what he said and I won’t get in the way, but whether I like him or not, my father is in danger up here and I am going to help if I can—he would absolutely hate it if he owed me his life.”
The screams were coming from beyond a large archway. The room beyond was amazing. It was as if we had walked out of the castle into a forest meadow. Instead of a stone ceiling, there were stars and a crescent moon. Instead of walls, there were only trees. And instead of a floor, there was soft grass, dirt, and pine needles. There was even a breeze that carried the scent of evergreens and wild flowers. But I knew that we were deep inside of the castle, probably in the mountain. Faintly, I could hear the sound of running water.
Brin doused her light. It took a moment for our eyes to adjust, but once they had the light given off by the moon and stars was sufficient for us to see.
To our right was a crash, the sound of splitting timber, and a pathetic whimper. About one hundred feet from the arch I could see Horace of Scrytch scrambling on all fours, away from the broken remains of a medium sized maple tree. What he was scrambling away from was about fifteen feet behind him. It was generally man-like, but ten feet tall and layered with knotted, misshapen muscles. In one hand it carried a club that was longer and thicker than a large man. The giant saw Horace crawling away. It let out a malodorous bellow and began stomping after him—it would catch him in a few seconds. I saw no sign of Theof.
“Brin light your crystal as bright as you can.”
Without any discussion, she pulled her gem from around her neck and it flared to life, immediately visible from where Horace and the giant were. As I had hoped, the light worked to distract the giant. It stopped and stared, shielding its dull eyes trying to see the source. The massive creature began to lumber toward us, deceptively fast.
“Okay, now what?” Brin asked.
“Shut your light off and run!”
The ground shook with the impact of the giant’s heavy footfalls. I broke left, but Brin went right, toward her father and toward the approaching monster. The giant apparently could see just fine in the dark, but being presented with two targets that were moving in opposite directions confused it for just a second, making it pause. It realized that Brin was the easier target and moved to cut her off. Trying to turn toward her, the giant found that it was unable to move its feet and I watched, amazed, as it slowly toppled over. It laid there still for a moment, trying to process what had just happened, then the giant let out a wordless shout that dripped with anger and tried to stand, unsuccessfully. I hardly believed it, but it appeared as if the giant’s feet were tied together. Very faintly, I saw a shadow in the moonlight near the giant’s head. I saw it and then it was gone, and the giant lay still.
For three or four heartbeats, I felt cold fear, thinking that I had just glimpsed a shadow monster. But then it registered that the shadow had appeared humanoid and I knew that it had been Theof. I skirted around the edge of the trees to where Brin and Horace were. I kept my eyes fixed on the grounded giant in the meadow, ready for him to sit up and come after me. But he never moved. At one point, I passed within twenty feet of him and could hear distinct snoring.
When I reached Brin and Horace, who appeared catatonic, Theof was there as well. I was afraid that he was going to be angry with us, but he didn’t seem to be.
“Dexter, you and Brin acted bravely and certainly this...man...owes both of you his life. But in the future, let me know if you are going to do the opposite of what I tell you so I can plan accordingly,” the elf said.
“I’m sorry. Brin was concerned for her father. What happened to the giant? Is it dead?” I asked changing the subject.
“Giant? No, that’s just a mountain ogre. And it isn’t dead. I just put it to sleep for a while. Once it was on the ground, it was easy to get it to inhale some sleep powder. It should be out long enough for us to tend to our business.”
“Theof, do you know what this place is?” Brin asked. “It’s very pretty.”
“This was a ballroom, but Nightshade placed a permanent enchantment on it to make it appear like this for Jane. You know of Jane? She was sort of adopted by all of us, though Korric was closest to her. This is an illusionary recreation of a spot where Jane used to play when she was a young girl, before we adopted her. When she was melancholy she would come here and it would cheer her up. It is also where we hid the entrance to our armory—our destination.”
Horace finally recovered his wits enough to verbalize.
“Brin? How did you get here? We have to get out; there is a dreadful beast...”
“It’s alright father; I saved you. The ogre is over there.”
“Is it dead?”
“No, just sleeping.”
“What? Let’s escape while we can. You do know the way out, don’t you? I seem to have gotten a little lost. You’ll take me with you, won’t you?” A fleeting look of fear crossed his face as he thought that she might leave him here.
“Yes. I’m not like you. You can come with us as long as you do everything you’re told,” she said as if he was a child.
“Of course, absolutely.” Horace looked at the faces of his daughter’s companions. “King Dexter, a pleasure certainly. Who’s your friend, an elf is he?”
“Earl Horace, this is King Theof.”
“Just call me Theof.”
“What, you don’t mean...surely you’re...you aren’t? Can we just get out of here?” Horace asked weakly.
Theof led us further into the room. The sound of running water grew louder. We eventually came to a small stream with a high bank on one side, though there was a gentle slope next to it like a ramp that led to the stream. Theof took us down to the stream and up to the high, muddy bank.
“Hmm, it’s right here, somewhere,” the dark clad elf said, feeling around with his hands. “Ahh, there it is.”
I heard a click and then a crack appeared in the side of the bank. It was a door, hidden by the illusion. Theof pushed it open.
“Let me go in first,” Theof said. “Never get ahead of me. I think I remember where all of the traps are and how to deactivate them, but it has been a long time.”
“Traps?” asked Horace.
“Certainly. This is where we kept our most valuable and our most dangerous treasures. Besides hiding the entrance with an illusion, I set six deadly traps inside. Or was it seven? Can anyone guess the first?”
I looked at the doorway and inside as best as I could. I could see dark shapes, but no details of anything in the interior.
“It has something to do with the door,” said Brin. “I can see a faint shimmering near the top.”
“Very good,” Theof said, pleased. “You have some talents. This trap was my idea but it took Nightshade to implement it. The top half of the door has a teleporting feature. Anyone walking through while the trap is still active will have the top half of their body teleported into Lake Marie.” Horace looked faint. “I’ll just go ahead and deactivate it.”
Around the door frame various colored stones were inset. The elf reached out and pressed the only black stone.
“Do you still see the shimmer?” he asked Brin.
“No. It’s gone.”
Theof stepped inside and we followed close behind. As soon as we entered, small, golden discs that lined the walls at regular intervals began to glow, illuminating the room. What we saw was amazing. The room was the biggest I had ever seen, at least a quarter mile in all directions. It was filled with chests, piles of gems, gold, and silver, statues, fine dishes, books, jewelry, swords, armor, and less common items. I saw a pile of feathers, a hand in a jar, staves, wands carved from rare woods and set with precious stones, a pile of small, metal orbs, a child’s doll, an empty birdcage, works of art and so much more that I can’t imagine describing it all.
“Father, restrain yourself,” Brin said. “Death traps, remember?”
I looked at Horace. He appeared ready to rush ahead and throw himself onto the nearest pile of treasure. Greed had vanquished his fear.
“Yes, even once I finish deactivating the other traps, don’t handle anything. Much of what is here is quite dangerous. It is a lot though, isn’t it? I had forgotten how much we had collected over the years. When this is all over, it would probably be a good idea to sift through some of this—it could be useful in a pinch.”
“By the gods!” said Horace. “You mean to tell me that you acquired all of this in the course of one lifetime and then just forgot about it? Pozzelby could be the wealthiest nation in the world with this treasure.”
“Well, my lifetime is a bit longer than most. But yes, all of this was collected over about four decades, but not just by me. This is the combined treasure of the Four Kings—and our associates of course. Nightshade, of course, and Jane, probably Jgell and Veraxe too. And I did not forget about it entirely. Pozzelby has never wanted for resources, and there is so much in here that is probably best left hidden—it seemed easiest to leave the whole thing alone. The last thing I did before I abdicated my crown was to seal this whole section of the castle. It was my intention that it be forgotten. Coenbrand’s son never learned of it and those of us who knew were good at keeping secrets. Now, stay here and don’t move from this spot—this time I mean it.”
Theof moved deeper into the massive room. We only saw him deactivate one trap; he pulled one of three levers that were on the wall near us and then he moved out of sight. Five minutes later, we saw a large ball of fire burst forth near the back of the room.
“What was that?” Horace squealed.
“Theof?” I called. There was no answer. “Should we see if he’s hurt?”
“No.” said Brin. “He said to stay here.” I didn’t point out that the last time that he had told us to stay put, she had run into danger as soon as he was gone.
“Theof?” I yelled again.
“What?” he asked, standing just off from my left elbow.
“Ahh! How do you do that?”