Chapter VIII: Stonehold

Suscipio Saga II

CHAPTER VIII: STONEHOLD

The City of Stonehold barely slept that night. It was one day after San Errach Festival, festival of spring, & all mouths were a buzz about the Wizard's Game. The death of Hiroko, the survival of the paladin and his company, the anger of Simeon Okra at the outcome. Stonehold was afire. Rebel Liberists (though they would not dare call themselves as such) proclaimed the real dawning of the new age was this day, as Hiroko Dragonborn the son of Tyr would rise again and save them. The true Causists celebrated Hiroko's death and staggered home after a long night of revelry. Those who fell somewhere in between were beginning to sway to the old Liberist way. Hundreds solemnly made their way to the statue of Hiroko Dragonborn, still under construction in the square. They bowed their heads and knelt before home, coming to pay their respects. Flowers, jewelry, precious belongings... they were all placed before Hiroko's feet. And as the wee hours of the morning crept up on the island city, no one had truly found a restful sleep.

Stonehold had begun as a fort during the Age of Magic. Before the fall of Old Elandora, it had been built up by the military forces to such a dominating structure that it was practically impenetrable. Which made it the perfect military base for military forces until the conquest of Cöthrom. The vast, man-made lake surrounding the city was not only beautiful but a functional moat, keeping enemy forces at bay. Stonehold rested in the middle of the lake, with one long road leading to the north and the south. All of which are highly traveled and have several checkpoints along the way. Essentially, no one comes into or out of Stonehold without the military knowing.

Today, the second of Digonus, was the first meeting of the New Parliament. Olde Parliament had been established in Kaembra back in the Age of Magic, but under military rule it had lost much of its influence and only met ceremoniously once a year. Since the Age of Redemption, Simeon Okra had Prince Lysom reinstate the power of Parliament to make rulings over the Empire. This seemed to please the people initially, but Okra was quickly discovering that it put him at a loss of power.

When Wolfric Coldhammer entered the familiar Parliament Hall, he was met with a cold feeling. And truth be told, Wolfric was no stranger to cold. After all, he hailed for the snowy Duchy of Old DeargaÍn. He was constantly draped in some kind of fur or hyde to warm his pale skin. And being the Ambassador for the Duke, he was no stranger to Stonehold or to Parliament. But this time was different...

He recalled the first moment he'd come here. It was with his Duke. Morgander Galt had brought him along to learn and to train. The room, when they entered it, seemed so vast unlike anything Wolfric had seen that he actually gasped. It was much like the Wizard's Game arena, built like a globe, except done in exquisite white marble and filled with rows and rows of box seat all the way to the dome. There were Preferred seats of course in the center, which was where the Head of Parliament-typically one appointed by the military-would conduct meetings.

But today was very different. The mood was somber... even agitated. And the Head of Parliament would be none other than Cardinal Okra. That is, until Prince Lysom was to come of age. Wolfric wondered if Lysom himself would be present, and felt certain that he would make a bid to redeem his kingship. No doubt this would get a passing vote. But Wolfric knew he wasn't the only one in the room wondering how capable the young Prince would be of running an Empire.

Besides that, there was always the vulture hovering over the boy, feeding on his every word. And that vulture was Simeon Okra, draped in his silky crimson robes. He looked like he was covered in blood. And being a longstanding ambassador for DeargaÍn, Wolfric also knew that Okra wouldn't mind having the blood of The Boreal Duke on him as well. The two were old enemies, and so that made Wolfric's position at New Parliament an extremely dangerous one.

Wolfric took his seat, and his mind wandered, recalling the strange series of events that had occurred since his arrival to the city. First of all, there were so many checkpoints at the outer gates that he felt inspected like a criminal. That had made him late for his meeting with the Baron of Tradesdale. And in all the scrambling about the eastern tower, he witnessed Allandra Desiviree' carrying a sobbing bundle in her arms. Ducking behind a pillar, he was lucky not to be seen. But catching the look on her face, there was no mistaking that he'd stumbled upon something suspicious. None of his Intelligence had told him Allandra was pregnant. His instincts told him-from the way she carried it-the babe could not be hers. There was a certain maternal way that mother's carried their young. Allandra seemed more distracted, and even fearful, barely aware of the child in her arms.

When they were out of sight, Wolfric decided that the incident was not important enough to send word to the Duke... immediately. But he made a mental note for later.

As he gathered his thoughts, he looked around the room, noting each individual.

Princess Paladonia of Black Alder



The Boreal Duke



King Sameh of Matsudai



Shambhala



The Feudal Lords



The Clans of Mach Rona



Beside the Merchant of Tradesdale, he saw a man, his face partially cloaked. He was young, with beard stubble along his pronounced jawline. When he caught Wolfric's eyes, he grinned and winked like there was mischief up his sleeve. Wolfric frowned, wondering what that was all about. But the man looked away, and never glanced back.

Strange. So very strange this mission had become. And getting stranger with the passing of the hour.

Cardinal Okra brought Parliament to order.

"Greetings, kings, lords, dukes, barons and ambassadors of Kaembra. I formally welcome you to the first meeting of New Parliament."

His words were met with applause.

"With the dawning of Redemption Day, and the release of the creatures of magic, we find ourselves returned to the light. No longer must we bend to the will of the Liberists and their radical oppressor, Yvander Lux. No longer must we cower in fear. now, our children and our children's children shall know the light of day. And those who forced our silence-those who ruled us with the threat of fear or death or a fate worse than death-it is THEY now who shall feel the wrath of a force unleashed. It is the force of ancient magic wrongfully imprisoned for hundreds of years. But also let us not forget the force of "The Cause"-which has been persecuted by a reckless military rule. My people of Kaembra, through decades of secrecy, the throne has been preserved. There are those who gave their life to protect the child of royal blood who stands beside me this day. I give you... Prince Lysom Gaol of the Gaol bloodline!"

The boy who stood must be no older than thirteen. He was fair haired with rosy cheeks-hardly a man for he still wore the face of a child. Wolfric noticed an arrogance about him that Okra seemed to encourage. The Prince stood proudly before New Parliament, his chest puffed out like a lion cub wanting to show off a mane he did not possess. And while there were cheers, it was apparent to Wolfric that there were skeptics among them that such a boy could rule the Empire.

Then the requests for votes came. They began with the lighter subjects. Okra called for Redemption Day to be made an official holiday. There was a unanimous yes, even amongst the Mach Ronans. Even they knew when to pick their battles.

But then they moved on to the issue of Hiroko Dragonborn, and his martyrdom.

"They are building statues of this false idol in the streets. We must put a stop to this."

"Might I politely interject, Cardinal?" The voice came from a pale-skinned man seated beside the prince. "For persecuting these people, no matter what they believe... would we not be doing to them the very thing that was done to us?"

Cardinal Okra's face visibly darkened. "I seek to bring peace to our land, Marcus Magentum. Not to continue ripping it to pieces. If this were a peaceful religion, I would but have no qualm. But the Dragonborn followers, as they call themselves, are only Liberists in disguise. They pose a threat, and I want the threat... removed."

In the end, they pushed the ruling back to a later date. And Wolfric was impressed by the arguments of the pale man with the black hair. Marcus Magentum. An ambassador? It was not someone he'd seen before in Stonehold... not even in the old parliament.

There were political marriages, and adoptive births to be legitimized. Namely, Okra wished to marry off one of the most powerful princesses to a boy half her age. And Wolfric wondered if this was a battle Okra wished to fight, for Princess Paladonia was a formidable foe. And even though she'd lost Lux as an ally, she was so beloved by her people that to cross her would mean civil war. They would die for that woman.

And then, at last, there was the matter of the Liberists, the son of Lux and his mercenaries. They had survived the Wizard's Game, unexpectedly so, and had formed a expansive group of supporters. To execute them would create unrest and riots. To let them live would threaten the Cardinal and the Prince. Wolfric did not think they should be executed. Nor did Marcus Magentum... or the man with the mischievous grin.

Wolfric wondered how much longer all this would take. His tummy was rumbling.

**************************************

"Wyveryn."

There came no answer.

"Wyveryn, are you there?"

Wyveryn rested in his cell, clutching his arms to his chest, but he still refused to answer Aeroth's jeers.

"Wyveryn? Are you alive? Because if you are... I'm going to kill you."

They each sat in their individual cells. The mood was somber, for one cell was empty. That of Hiroko's. And Aeroth vowed not to let Wyveryn forget WHY that cell was empty.

"You and I... we are going to have words, when we get out of here."

"I did what I had to do."

"You did what was best for yourself, like you always do. Mark my words, Wyveryn, I once swore an oath to you and no oath can be taken back. But you are dead to me, now, do you hear me? Dead to me. And since I have saved your life on numerous occasions, I ask but one favor. That the deeds from my father-my father-pass from your hands to mine. Then you can go your way, and I can go mine. But you are no brother of mine, Wyeryn, and you are no son of Lux." Aeroth spat. "When we get out of here, boy... you and I will have words."

Banger was there with them, as was Tic. But Marco was still gone. And Jewelynna? Well, no one had seen her since the Wizard's Game? Why was her cell empty? What fate had befallen the melancholy woman?

The doors swung open down the hall. A dim light shone through, and a group of guards escourted Marcus Magentum into their sight.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the well-fed magician?" Said Wyveryn. "You look fresh, as though you've just taken a bath. Wish I could say we've been treated with the same hospitality."

"I can't remember the last time I bathed." Mumbled Tic. "And Wyveryn's stench is starting to make me nauseous."

"I came to see you all with my own eyes." Said Marco. "And to inform you, the baby is dead."

"Dead?" Asked Aeroth. But the look in Marco's eye made him understand. There were always two meanings behind the magician's words. He had not come here to gloat, but to relay hidden messages.

"And Jewelynna?" Asked Banger.

"The baby took her life as well. Jewelynna had the closest connection to Brillowyn. And when one died, so did the other. It is the connection that we shared in our travels together. Only the bond was tight with them." Marco cocked his brow. "I do not meant to come across as unfeeling..."

"Yet you stand there, emotionless, telling us our friend was murdered?" Wyveryn stated.

"I came here, also, to tell you that your execution is set for tomorrow at dawn."

Tic groaned. "Do you have any good news?"

Marco shook his head. "Just to keep your eyes and ears open." And then he slipped a note to Aeroth through the bars of the cell. Tipping his top hat, he turned on his heel and left.

Puzzled, the paladin opened the note to read what was inside.

"The baby is alive. She is with Allandra. I will come back for you tonight."


***********************************




The escape happened rather suddenly that night. Wolfric received a note from The Boreal Duke in regards to a baby-likely the baby he saw Allandra carrying. He was instructed to find Aeroth and the band of prisoners, and to bring the baby to safety.

At the same time, Marco had managed to track down the baby herself, far below in the dungeons of Stonehold. He followed Allandra, who brought her to a mid-wife. And during the swap, Marco had gracefully stolen the child right from under their noses. Quite pleased with himself, he headed out of the castle through the kitchens.

Wolfric, dressed as a simple cleric, planned to greet the prisoners under the pretense of giving them their last rites.

"I am Wolfric Coldhammer," he told them, looking into the grey eyes of Aeroth Ravenswing. That man's fading red hair hardly covered his half-elven ears, a sight Wolfric was not sure he would ever get used to seeing. Such ears were considered to be evil for so long that to see them out in the open like that... well, it was simply disconcerting.

"I have come to free you." He insisted.

"Well, if you're going to, be quick about it," muttered the paladin. "I'm a scheduled hanging in the morning."

It was a bit of a mess, for while he was a good ambassador, he was terrible at lying... which must be why the Boreal Duke often laughed at him and told him he'd make an awful politician. Still, he got through the guards, and he possessed the keys to each cell. Once the first one was open-Aeroth's of course-the paladin launched himself in the kind of attack a cornered tiger would make against a hunter. Feverishly, Wolfric undid the other locks as quickly as he could, so that the others could join in. Soon, there would be guards swarming about. Someone cast a blinding light, confusing them, and it was all in a haze.

********

The Escape Plan was that there was no plan. Which would account for the mayhem that followed. They stumbled over each other, always two steps ahead of the guards, but no more than that. Eventually, they split up, Tic with Banger, and of course Aeroth with Wyveryn-for there was still unfinished business between them.

Wolfric created a smoke diversion in the main hall, which allowed Aeroth and Wyveryn to converge (in disguise of course) right out the front door with a crowd of panicked ambassadors. In a second, Wyveryn disappeared from the paladin's sight, causing Aeroth a moment of irritation, and then, relief.

"Let him go," Aeroth muttered bitterly under his breath. "He is a brother of mine no longer."

Wyveryn, who found himself in the stables, attempted to steal a mare.

Unfortunately, this was where the first guard recognized him.

"Stop!"

Wyveryn fled for his life, thanking Tyr that the streets were so jammed full of people. But it was going to take a miracle for him to escape this mess. A fleeting thought... he wondered if it might have been unwise to leave Aeroth so quickly? Perhaps he should have waited until they'd reached the outskirts of the city.

But he quickly shooed that thought from his mind. The paladin would kill him. There was no doubt about that.

He ducked into an alleyway, an entourage of guards chasing him, arrows flying. And then a door opened and a young, curly haired man pulled him through the opening.

"Hello, Wyveryn. We've been waiting for you." He whispered.

Wyveryn stared at him stupidly. "You have? Who's you?" The guards were approaching, and Wyveryn's heart was beginning to panic.

"Me? Oh, I'm just the messenger. An ambassador like your new friend, Wolfric. You have been summoned by the Boss, and I'm to take you to him."

"And if I say no?"

"I can push you back out into the street."

"Let's go."

************

One-by-one, the escaped prisoners of Stonehold convened in a small underground room. It was windowless, filled with crates and shadows. A dimly lit desk was at the far end. And the first two to arrive were Aeroth and Wyveryn.

Aeroth took one look at the red-faced half-elf and his blood began to boil. The one beside Wyveryn, the young man with the curled locks, cleared his throat.

"My name is Simon, and my orders are for you to wait here. Our messengers are gathering the other ones. The magician made it all the way to the docks, but even he shall not be safe until he is with us. I ask for your patience, and take my leave. But I will return shortly."

When the door closed, it was just the Paladin and the half-elf... all alone. A grin slowly spread over Aeroth's face, and he knew his moment of reckoning had arrived.

Wyveryn backed up against a crate. "You can just stay over there, on your side of the room."

"Oh come now, Wyveryn, I just want to talk."

"I don't want to talk. I'd rather just sit here and enjoy the silence, thank you very much."

"Why'd you do it, Wyveryn?"

"What?"

"You know what." The paladin could not hide the sneer from his words.

"I saved you."

"You saved yourself! Always, the only one you think of is yourself. I had a plan. And if you had listened to me, if you had simply tried what I was trying to tell you, then Hiroko would be standing here among us today. You murdered him, you selfish bastard."

"And I saved you! But do I hear a word of thanks?"

"You are a coward!" Aeroth spat, as the door clicked open and Marco entered the room. But the paladin was so enraged that he did not even notice the bundle in his arms.

"Aeroth--" Marco began.

But Aeroth held up his hand. "No, this is between him and me. Hear me now, Wyveryn. As of this day, I am no longer bound to you by oath. And you are no longer my brother. In exchange, I will take the deeds that Lux left you, and when this is over, you go your way and I go mine. For I will never forgive you for what you did to Hiroko."

"I would gladly do it again." Wyveryn muttered angrily.

The fist came so fast, he didn't have time to dodge it. And it struck home, right into the fat of his lip, causing him to tumble backwards over the crate.

Marco sighed. "If I may say so, Aeroth...?"

Aeroth, who looked like a fiery god towering over the battered half-elf, gave a snort of satisfaction. He did not turn to look at Marco, but rather looked on with pride at what little revenge he could muster. The cowardly Wyveryn made no attempt to fight back. Instead, he brought his hand to his lip and winced.

"Aeroth?" Marco asked again.

"What?"

"I watched the game from the audience. If I may say so, the boy has a point. There was no guarantee that your plan would have worked. If you were wrong, then you all would have perished."

"But if I was right, we all would have lived."

Marco shrugged. "It is a question you may never stop asking yourself. In any case, let's leave the "what if's" to fate, and concentrate on the here and now. For we have found, in the bundle I hold in my arms, a great victory tonight."

At last, the paladin finally saw little Brillowyn. And he crossed the room to take her into his arms, forgetting the wounded half-elf by the crates. Simultaneously, Wolfric, Tic and Banger entered the room. There were greetings, for despite all their differences, they were glad to see each other. They openly wondered who "The Boss" was, but decided it was better than facing the guards and most certain execution.

"Who are you?" Aeroth asked, directing his question at the DeargaÍn Ambassador. "Why did you help us escape? Who sent you?"

"I work for the Boreal Duke. My name is Wolfric Coldhammer. I am his ambassador. He sent me a letter, much of it in regards to the baby that you hold in your arms right now. My mission is to bring the baby to him. In DeargaÍn. For he knows who she is, and how to get her back home. That is all I know, but the Duke is an old friend of mine. He would not have written such a letter if it were not of the utmost importance. Somehow, this baby is the key... "

"The key to what?" Banger wondered out loud.

"I don't know. She's just a key. One answer to many questions. And my Duke can answer more. I will take you to him, as soon as we find out where we are and who is holding us."

Banger caught Tic looking at her and turned away, her face flushed red. She hoped the others hadn't noticed, but her mind went back to the Wizard's Game when he'd tumbled on top of her after escaping from the puzzle room. She remembered the pressure of his weight on her, and it had thrilled her like she'd never known. But it had also shamed her. How long had she wished to be a woman with her own free will? And now that she'd chosen someone to love, it was as if her body and her heart were no longer in control. How incredibly unfair.

And then a thought came to her that freed her from her heartsickness.

"I would like to have a moment of silence for Jewelynna. She was a good, honest woman. The baby chose her, for whatever reason. It was a brave and giving thing to do, what she did for all of us, and what she did on behalf of the child."

"Agreed." Said Aeroth. "Let us take a moment to honor the one among us who has fallen."

The room fell silent. Each person let their own thoughts wander. Marco remembered the gentleness of Jewelynna's touch, and Aeroth recalled her natural maternal instinct for baby Brillowyn. Would any of them be able to care for her the way Jewelynna had?

As the question entered his mind, the door opened, and in stepped Simon and several other hooded messengers. All of them were young, boys on the brink of manhood. But ageless. Possibly they were much older than they seemed. They certainly moved with great skill and stealth, and seemed to communicate with each other through signals they made with their hands. It was a very efficient way of running things.

And last to come through the door was the very same hooded man Wolfric had seen at New Parliament. The man who'd caught his eye and gave him the mischievous grin.

"You..." He said, in disbelief.

The man winked and threw back his hood.

"Trickster." Tic said, a note of admiration in his voice.

"You all are extremely good at getting into trouble, making it doubly hard for my people to get you here. You have no idea the lengths I went to in order to have you all standing in this room." The playful Trickster, who's stubble was starting to come in on his face, danced over to the desk and sat behind it. He kicked his feet up and rested his hands behind his head. With a widespread grin across his face, he seemed to be nothing more than amused by the whole situation.

"We are once again in your debt." Marco said humbly. "I am sure it was not easy to get us here."

"No." Agreed the Trickster. "But I have my ways. I always have my ways. Do you like my office?"

They looked around.

"It is... very bare." Said Tic.

"I am a man of few material things. But enough about me. Let's discuss your escape from Stonehold."

"Let's." Muttered Wyveryn.

"The bad news is, you cannot walk through the city gates, disguised or not. When they catch you, not if, they will hang you until you are dead."

"Oh, and you cannot escape by stealing a boat. They monitor all vessels coming and going."

"But that's all there is." Aeroth said. "If we cannot escape by land, or by sea, what then, by air?"

The Trickster laughed. "I'm good, but I'm not that good."

"All right then, what's the good news?"

"The good news is that you can escape... under Stonehold. There are a series of tunnels in many of the ancient cities, as you discovered in Tradesdale. These were constructed during the Age of Magic, when Stonehold was still just a fort. But the dungeons extend underneath the lake and deposit you on the northern banks."

"Did he say 'dungeon'?" Tic asked Banger.

"Aye. But don't worry. If you follow my map, you shouldn't run into much trouble."

"Much trouble?" Again, Tic rolled his eyes.

"If anyone has a better idea, I would love to hear it. Of course, there are none, because I know this city better than the city knows itself, and I am older than I look, my friends. So once again, I'm going to have to ask that you trust me." And with that, he opened his desk and pulled out a series of boxes. All were pleasantly wrapped, as though they were gifts. The Trickster stood from his chair and passed them out, one for each person in the room.

"Well, go on, open them." He smiled.

And so they did.

Inside Aeroth's gift box was a tiny cage.

"The Cage. Said the Trickster. "It can mean many things. Possibly it is a way for the hunter to trap his prey. Or perhaps it is the hunter himself who is trapped?"

In Tic's, a jar of colored sand.

"The Dirt. Taken from holy lands in the Age of Magic. But when is dirt ever just 'dirt'?"

In Wolfric's, a tiny goblet.

"The Goblet. A symbol of peace. But also, of fragility, for it can be broken if it is dropped. Best to handle with care, wouldn't you say?"

In Aurora's, a purple flower.

"The Orchid. Symbol of life and of beauty. Also quite delicate. My, my, you all love fragile things, don't you?"

In Marco's, a box of colored rocks.

"The Rocks. Hard-edged, Can cut like a knife. Can even kill a person. But can be precious as jewels to a lover... of rocks." The Trickster bowed as if ending a play. "All of these items are my gifts to you, for along your treacherous journey, they will aid you. Do not ask me when or how. You will simply know when the time is right. We'll say that. And now, if you will, I will take you down below...."

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