THE CRYSTAL THRONE by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER XVII
They could hear muffled and confused sounds but neither knew what was happening. "Thomas," Clive called across the hall. "Do you hear it?"
"I hear something but what is it?" Thomas responded.
"The sounds of a great battle!" Clive answered excitedly. "That can mean but one thing. We are soon to be rescued," he said.
"Or put to death," Scott mumbled.
The sounds of the fighting gradually grew louder. In a moment they could hear the ringing of metal as swords clashed and the shouting of many voices approaching their cells. Looking through the bars they could finally spot several of the guards doing battle with what appeared to be their own men. As Scott watched through the door, he saw a man in a blue tunic plunge his sword into one of the guards that had been feeding them. The guard grabbed his stomach as he collapsed to the stone floor, with what looked like bright blue paint issuing from the wound. "It's blue!" Scott said in amazement as he looked out.
"That's the color of their blood," Thomas said as he grabbed his fellow inmate and pulled him back away from the door. "Stay back until we find out which way this battle will end," he ordered.
The fighting in the corridor was fairly short lived. In minutes the sounds died down to an occasional moan from the wounded and a few rapidly shouted orders from the victors. The words were too quick and sharp for Scott to catch much of what was said. Then a jangling clank announced yet another development as their door was opened and several blue clad strangers entered.
"Friend Scott, you live!" one of the men addressed him happily. "We feared your death when they dragged your bleeding body from camp."
"Maynar," Scott said, jumping to his feet and hugging his old friend.
"You see," his friend smiled up at him. "I have been promoted. I am now a member of the blue guard myself," he laughed as he puffed out his chest in the tunic.
"Not for long." A tall, fair skinned man entered the cell carrying a bundle of clothes. "Change quickly. We cannot risk our own men killing each other out of mistake." Akuta then turned to the two prisoners. "We are pleased to find you both so well, old father and young friend," he said. "But come, let us leave this dank hospitality."
They left the confines of the cell to meet with the rest of their rescuers in the hall. "What about me?" a voice called from another cell. "Will you not release me as well?" Clive called from where he was still confined.
"We know you not," Maynar said as he tugged the red tunic over his head.
"But they know me," Clive said indicating Scott and Thomas. "They know I am a friend of the king."
"Is this true?" Akuta asked.
"I believe him to be a spy," Thomas answered.
"I am no spy," Clive pleaded. "Robin and I crossed the great prairie together. He would not be in the castle were it not for me."
"We could release him, but keep him watched," Maynar suggested.
"Indeed this would be a job for you and young Scott. It would keep the two of you out of harm's way," Akuta mused. "Release him," he ordered. The cell was opened and Clive was put into the custody of the two young friends while Akuta and Thomas hurried off to plan strategies for the ensuing battle. The battle itself was little more than a rout of the remaining blue guard. Most of them had little stomach for fighting when faced with the kind of odds they now saw.
"Where do we go now?" Scott asked in his halting Tuathan.
"To the red tower with our prisoner," Maynar suggested and started out of the dungeon.
"I knew you not to be one of the land. Your speech gave you away," Clive said as they climbed the stairs from the tower basements. "You are the Scott from the other world. You are the one my friend spoke of."
"Your friend?" Scott asked.
"The king, my lord Robin," he replied. "You have not the look of the fair folk to masquerade as such."
"What did he say about me?" Scott asked.
"It was what he kept to himself that mattered," Clive responded. "Are you a natural reversal as well?"
With that question Maynar tripped and fell headlong up the stairs. "A natural reversal," he said as Clive and Scott helped him up. "As well? Are you saying the great king is a natural reversal? That certainly throws a stop to finding an heir to the thrown!"
"Keep your tongue," Clive said angrily. "This information could only cause harm at this point." They continued on up the stairs.
"Well, are you?" Maynar asked. "Are you what he asked you?" he said, looking sharply at Scott.
"If you mean what I think you do," and Scott was not sure because of the language barrier, "then yes."
"So that is how you knew the king. I wonder if that is what Akuta saw in the deep communication with you," Maynar babbled on. "No wonder he has been so quiet about things. This must weigh heavily on his mind."
"Maynar," Scott said, interrupting his train of thought. "Aren't we climbing too many stairs?" They had been steadily going up, passing several intersecting openings in the curved stairwell. Indeed, they had passed the ground level and were already well above.
"Let us go back down," Maynar said, turning around. Just then they heard a shriek issue from the adjoining hall. Before anyone could react, Clive had dashed off toward the sound.
"Wait," Scott called after him as he and Maynar followed the fleeing man. They found themselves in a wide gallery with a terraced opening providing a panoramic view of the courtyards below. One glance made it obvious that the battle was not going well for the blue warriors. They were being systematically rounded up by variously cloaked men, and herded together in long columns marching toward the drawbridge. However, the party had little time to observe, as they saw a short, ugly woman dressed in blue running down the hall before them.
"That was Melusine," Maynar said as they gave pursuit. The woman quickly ducked into a door and the three followed after her. In the center of the room was a naked man, suspended from chains stretched to the far corners. He appeared to be frozen in the middle of the act of passion, his body in an eternal spasm of climax. Melusine was on her knees before him with a poised knife, about the emasculate the figure. "Stop her!" Maynar cried. "It is Rood, Captain of the Palace Guard!"
"If I cannot have my trophy, no one shall have his life," she said and turning the knife, plunged it into the captive man's chest. She then turned and ran to the cabinet at the far side of the room. "You think you have me?" Melusine cried. "Not likely. I will return to my land and seek my revenge on another who loves your king." With that, she grabbed a small vial and dashed it to the floor at her feet. A purple smoke quickly rose to envelope her. It dissipated as fast as it had arisen, leaving no trace of the woman.
"A transportation spell," Maynar said looking about the room.
"Quickly, we must find a healer," Clive cried as he ran to the body suspended from the chains. Scott joined him as Maynar dashed from the room in search of help. "Look," Clive said, observing the body. Rood stood in the same frozen stance, the knife blade quivering in his chest. It penetrated into the body, but no blood appeared to be issuing from the wound. It was as if the woman had stabbed a waxwork dummy.
Robin sat quietly in a chair in the corner of the king's chambers. He had heard the faint cries and knew that somehow Melcot and Rowana had been successful. He knew that his kingdom would soon be safe. And still he waited, quietly biding his time.
As mid day came on, footsteps sounded in the hall. The outer door opened and someone entered the antechamber. He could hear sounds of a search, as if the person were desperately seeking something of value. And then the door opened and Bailor entered the inner chambers. At first he did not see the shadowed figure in the corner. He went directly to the table beside the reclining platform and frantically looked through the personal effects sitting there.
"Seek you this?" a voice asked. Bailor whirled around, realizing for the first time that he was not alone. Robin sat comfortably in the chair, holding up a small bottle no more than two inches in length. "This is your escape route, is it not?" Robin asked as he slowly stood. Bailor seemed rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on the small vial. "I recognize the bottle. It is very similar to the one you used before. Remember? You sent me on a journey from which you did not expect me to return."
Bailor began moving slowly across the room. "It was a mistake, lord. I meant not to send you away. I was just so angry that my sister was hurt that I lost my thoughts."
"But you were prepared. You had the vial ready for use. From where came it?" Robin took a step toward him.
"I . . . I was given it by . . . by . . ."
"By your sister?"
Bailor froze again. He then forced a harsh laugh. "My sister? Where would my sister get such a thing?"
"Perhaps she made it," Robin suggested. "Perhaps she had knowledge of spells stronger than anyone knew. Or . . . perhaps she brought it with her."
"Brought it with her?" Bailor asked, inching along the wall.
"From her world. Oh yes, I know she is not of the land. My captain told us before, on that fateful day, that he saw her ears. She is not of the land. So that means either she is not your sister, or you are not of the land."
"This is preposterous," Bailor bluffed.
"Pull back your hair," Robin commanded as he took a step forward, sword in one hand and the vial in the other.
"What?"
"I said, pull back your hair or I shall remove your head and then do it for you."
The man reached up and pulled his long hair back from the sides of his head, revealing the typically pointed ears.
"Then she is not your sister," Robin concluded. "From where came she?"
Bailor slowly inched his way closer to the reclining platform. "I met her in Marchinod in the western kingdom. She was a powerful sorceress," he admitted coming closer to the platform. "She promised to make me a king, and she very nearly succeeded."
"Rood thought she was human because of the ears, but we know better." Robin persisted.
"Yes, she is from the dark world."
"And where is she now?" Robin asked.
"I know not, and I care not," Bailor replied. "And soon neither shall you," he said whirling around and reaching under the mattress on the platform. He suddenly froze, a look of shock on his face.
"And now what seek you? This?" Robin asked, setting the bottle on the table beside him and reaching back to pick up a long sword from where he had hidden it. "Oh, fear not, my good lord. I shall welcome a fair challenge. But it seems the tip of this sword has a slight discoloration. Perhaps the lady Melusine has been tampering with it as well. Shall we see?" he asked, bringing the blade close to Bailor's face. The man flinched back, fearing the touch. "As I thought."
"What shall you have with me?" Bailor asked, now actually frightened.
"I give you a chance to defend yourself," Robin replied, tossing his own short sword to the man. "But I shall not use this blade," he said, pushing the sword Bailor had originally looked for into a crevice where the mortar had fallen from the wall. He pushed down and snapped the metal in the center of the sword, and tossed the hilt aside. "I have yet another," Robin said, reaching down and picking up another sword he had conveniently placed behind the chair.
With a cry of anger, Bailor leapt forward, swinging his sword viciously. Robin dodged the blade and brought his own weapon to bear, parrying each blow. The two men dueled about the room, metal clanging against metal, neither one gaining an advantage. If anything, Robin seemed to take the defensive, allowing Bailor to expend his energy needlessly, swinging his sword violently and pursuing his intended victim.
Suddenly, Robin felt his foot contact something unstable. He had stepped on the hilt of the broken sword and lost his balance, falling over backward onto the stone floor. "I shall send you to the western islands with your father!" Bailor called and fell forward for the death blow. Remembering a move he had once seen in a combat in the human world, Robin raised up with his feet and struck Bailor in the chest, knocking the wind from him and flinging him through the terrace window. In a moment Robin was again on his feet and following his opponent onto the terrace.
It was a high ledge built out on the side of the tower, with a low wall surrounding it. Bailor came at Robin from behind the window opening where he had hidden awaiting the pursuit. Robin raised his sword to parry but was unready for the blow. His weapon slipped from his grasp and went flying over the wall and down to the distant courtyard below. "Now I have you, my young king," Bailor gloated, circling with his sword. He thrust forward, but Robin managed to sidestep the move and grab him by the wrist. They fell on the wall, rolling back and forth each trying to gain an advantage.
Robin finally smashed Bailor's hand into the stone of the wall, causing him to release his grip and sending the sword plunging down after Robin's own weapon. Just as he thought all was lost, Bailor felt the hilt of Robin's dagger poking into his side from where it hung from his opponent's belt. He reached with his free hand and grabbed the dagger, plunging it into Robin's side, cutting deeply. Reacting to the pain, the young king released his enemy falling back on the wall. Bailor smiled a final farewell to his rival and raised the dagger for the last blow.
His body suddenly spasmed, the raised hand dropping the dagger to clatter harmlessly on the terrace. He turned to look behind him, then toppled over, rolling off the edge of the wall and falling to the courtyard below. Robin sat up slowly to see Rowana standing in the doorway, bow in hand and a second arrow already drawn in case of need.
"My thanks, lady," Robin gasped. "For the second time you save my life."
"You are hurt, lord," she cried, dropping the bow and rushing to him, noticing the blood discoloring his garment.
"It is but a scratch," he said, trying to stand. She helped him back to the room and onto the reclining platform. Then quickly bolted to find a healer. "I have won my kingdom, only to lose it again," Robin said to himself as the room began to spin around him. He closed his eyes and passed into unconsciousness.
The white robed healer entered the room and came directly to the body suspended from the chains. Clive and Scott stood nearby, not knowing what to do. "He may yet live," she said as she looked closely at the wound. "This is powerful magic. It is the spell of forever. It slows the body down, making it more of a thing than a person. Release these chains and bring him to a place where we can lay him down. But be careful not to touch the blade."
Finding the keys hanging from a hook beside the door, Clive quickly unfastened the manacles and shackles while Scott supported the body. They then carried him from the empty room, following the healer to a chamber not far down the hall. They placed Rood on a reclining platform, his body still frozen in the position of lust, the knife still protruding from his chest.
The healer knelt for a moment and meditated. She then made the same unusual movements Scott had observed before in the dungeon, and then she stood over the body. Grasping the handle of the knife firmly, she pulled straight up, removing it from Rood's chest. As the blade came out a thick ooze of blood slowly seeped from the gash. It appeared to have the consistency of thick tar rather than real blood. The healer pressed her left hand over it and closed her eyes. She then placed her right hand on top of her left and leaned with all her weight upon the body.
After about ten minutes, she relaxed and slowly removed her hands. "He may live," she said to the two men in the room. "The magic is all that has saved him. If his body were not slowed by it, the wound would have proved fatal in a matter of seconds. As it was, the stillness of his blood allowed me to try to repair some of the damage. I know not how successful I have been."
"But what about his condition?" Clive asked, indicating the paralysis.
"The magic is powerful, but it will wear off eventually. There is nothing for him until that happens. Keep a close watch and see that he moves not once his mind returns to this world. He will need rest to recover from the knife wound." She then turned to leave the room. Just before exiting she paused and glanced back at Rood. "And please find a cover for his body," she added. "We would not wish to cause undue excitement in any young ladies . . ." She paused and looked directly at Scott,
". . . or young men."