Knight Fall (The Champion Chronicles Book 1) (36 page)

Another crash from upstairs caused both of them to take a step towards the stairwell.  It sounded like wood splintering. 

Conner glanced at the Narimar, who said, “No.  We cannot.  Only if they call for us.”

“Something is going on,” Conner said.  “We need to check it out.”

The guardsman shook his head.  “It is not our duty.  Only if they call for us.”

A muffled cry that was clearly from Elissa caused Conner to move into action.  He turned and took the steps two at a time, with Narimar racing up the stairs right behind him.  At the top of the stairs was a small landing.  He ran to the door that led into the king and queen’s chamber and gave it a firm push, but it was locked from the inside.  There was another crash, followed by what sounded like the thump of a body hitting the ground, and then a scream.

“Elissa!” Conner yelled.

“Conner!” Elissa shouted back.

Narimar grabbed Conner from behind and ran them into the door.  Conner bounced off the door and turned into the guardsman and drove his fist as hard as he could into Narimar’s unprotected face.  His nose exploded in blood and mucus and Narimar fell back onto the stairs.

Conner took two steps back and ran hard into the door, driving his shoulder into the thick wood.  He bounced off in pain, but he had felt the door give.  Ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder, he ran at the door again, this time, the lock on the door gave and he tumbled into the room.  Using his momentum to his advantage, he did a forward summersault onto his back and then to his feet.  Neffenmark was in front of him, a long tunic draped to his knees.  His face was flush and his chest was heaving from exertion.  His eyes were wide and full of anger.

“How dare you!” Neffenmark shouted.  “I am the king of this land!  I will have your head for this intrusion!”

“Stand down, Conner!” Narimar called out.  The guardsman had recovered his senses and stood in the doorway, his sword drawn.

Elissa was on the floor at the side of the bed, blood flowing down the side of her head.  Her eyes were red and a large bruise was visible on her cheek.

Conner felt an anger that he had never felt before.  His heart pounded in his chest and his muscles tingled with adrenaline.  He drew his sword and stepped towards Neffenmark.  He did not have his normal set of light swords, but it was the double-edged longsword that were given to Royal Guards.  He had never fought with one before.  It was much lighter than the broadswords that the knights used and a bit heavier than his own swords.  But it was still a sharp blade and without even having to think about how to use it, he knew how to use it.

Narimar rushed around him and put himself between Conner and the king.  “No!  Do not do this!  Think about what you are doing!  He is the king!”

“Move away,” Conner said.  He could not tear his eyes away from Elissa and the wounds on her face.  The sight of her kept feeding his anger until it boiled over.  With cool precisions, Conner moved towards Narimar, swinging his sword across his body.  The slash was easily parried.  But Conner was not looking to kill Narimar or even fight with him.  As soon as their swords touched, Conner sidestepped up to the guardsman and sent an elbow across his chin.  The man dropped, out cold.

“Stay back!” Neffenmark shouted.  He held a long dagger in both hands.  His eyes blazed in anger, his teeth pulled back into an evil snarl.

“Conner!” Elissa shouted.

But Conner did not hear either one of them.  He heard nothing.  He felt only anger.  In two steps he was at Neffenmark and knocked aside the fat king’s feeble attempt at attacking him with the dagger.  Conner took advantage of the longsword’s thrusting capabilities and thrust the sword directly into Neffenmark’s chest, killing him instantly.  Neffenmark fell to his knees and then onto his back, eyes still open, mouth agape in a silent death scream.

Conner did not see him fall.  As soon as he dealt the fatal blow, he let go of the sword and rushed to Elissa’s side.  She was on her knees, head buried in her hands, crying.  Conner dropped to her side and put his hands on her, but she pushed him away.

“What did you do!” she screamed.

“He hurt you,” Conner said softly.

His words touched her and her own anger dissipated.  She reached to him and pulled him into a tight hug.  She buried her head into his shoulder, letting her tears stain his tunic.  He held her close.  After only a moment, she pushed him away, holding him at arms-length.

“They will kill you if they catch you,” Elissa said.

“I was protecting you,” Conner said.  “He was hurting you.  He beat you bad.”

She shook her head.  “It does not matter!  You do not understand!”

Conner pushed a few strands of hair away from the bruise on her cheek and held the side of her head in her hand.  “He hurt you,” Conner repeated.

“I know,” Elissa said.  Tears began to well up in her eyes.  “It didn’t hurt badly enough, though.  It will only get worse, though.”

“No,” Conner said.  “It will be better.  Now that you are Queen, you can finally rule the way you should have.”

“I do not want the throne!  Not this way!”  The tears stopped and the anger came out.  “You do not understand.  Neffenmark was keeping the Tarans at bay.  Now with him gone, who knows what will happen?”  Elissa pulled herself away from Conner and stood up.  She stumbled slightly while she tried to regain her balance.  Conner tried to help her, but she pushed him away.   “You must go.  Now.  Before they come.”

“Elissa…”

“Listen to me, Conner.  They will not care who you are, who you were.  They will only see you as the one who killed the king.  You must go.  Run.  Hide.”

“Where…?”

Elissa pulled him to the far side of the room where a long fireplace filled the entire wall.  She gave a push on a brick and a hidden door popped open.

“There,” Elissa said.  “This will take you through the walls and into the city.  You must go, now.  I can hear them coming!  If they catch you, they will kill you!”

“Where will I go?” Conner asked.

There was a pounding on the main doors and shouts for the king to answer.  Elissa pulled and pushed Conner into the hidden door.  “The forest.  Back home.  Anywhere but here.  If they ever find you, they will kill you.  No go!”  She gave him one final push and the pounding on the doors became more incessant.

Conner crouched through the short doorway and found himself in a dark and damp corridor.  He turned as Elissa gave him one last long look before she pushed the doorway shut.  The darkness was complete.  He could not even see his hand in front of his face.  Even though he heard the shouting from inside the room, Conner tried to push on the door to open it again.  He did not want to run.  She was beaten and Neffenmark deserved to die.  But the door would not open.  He pushed hard, even kicked at it, but it would not open.

Conner sat back, resting against the far wall, listening to the guardsmen as they rushed into the room.  He heard them shouting and cursing his name.  He heard the orders to find him and bring him back dead or alive.  To a man, the guardsmen vowed to bring in the king’s killer.  He sat with his hands up and ready to swing at the first man who came through the door, but the door never opened.  It seems that maybe only Elissa knew about the door. 

After quite some time, after the shouting had settled down, Conner began crawling through the dark tunnel, wondering what he would find at the end.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

              The tunnel ran for what seemed an eternity.  Conner just kept putting one hand in front of the other, pulling his body along.  His one regret was that he had left his sword buried in the chest of Neffenmark.  If he did come across anyone, he would have no way to defend himself.  Even if he came across a first year squire, he wouldn’t last very long.  And he had no idea how his captors would handle him.  Would they capture him alive, torture him, or just slay him on the spot.  The people of Karmon had lost two kings in such a short amount of time.  There was no telling how they would react.

              Everyone had loved King Thorndale.  They had loved his father and his father’s father.  The line of Thorndale had gone back to the first days of the kingdom.  And while there might have been some who did not like a particular king, they were always respected and revered.  There had never been an active revolt or resistance to the king’s rule.  Peace, at least inside the borders of the kingdom, had always existed.  Partly because of the steady rule of the Thorndale family.  Partly because of the strong military might that this tiny kingdom could muster.  But now, both of those reasons no longer existed.  The reign of the Thorndale’s was over.  The might of the Karmon Knights was at its lowest.  The kingdom was reeling from too many deaths.  No one cared that they had won the battle with their northern neighbor.  They only cared that too many fathers, sons, and brothers failed to make it home from battle.

              And now, they had to deal with the death of another king.  He knew that Neffenmark was evil.  He knew that Brace Hawkden was dead because of Neffenmark, and it was Neffenmark that started everything in the first place.  If it wasn’t for Neffenmark, Elissa would still be a princess, he would still be hunting and living in the forest, and many men and boys would still be alive.  But the rest of the kingdom didn’t know that.  Many had seen Neffenmark as a savior – a man who stepped up to fill the void of the fallen king.  But he knew better.  Many others knew better.  Marik knew.  Elissa knew.

              At the thought of the princess, Conner came to a stop and bowed his head in the darkness.  He would have to get back to the castle to see her.  Even if it was just for a minute, he needed to see her one last time.  He looked back, thinking that maybe he could return and figure out how to open the door.  And then he turned forward, looking into the darkness ahead of him.  It was just as dark in front of him as it was behind him.  He knew that Elissa was back there.  But so was every armed man in the castle.  He was sure that they were turning over every loose brick looking for him.  Going back would be certain capture and likely death.  Going forward might not be that much better, either.  But he knew he would at least have a chance to escape if he kept moving.  He picked up his head and began shuffling forward.

              He continued crawling for a long time.  He had no real concept of how much time had passed, or how long he had been crawling.  For a while he counted each time he put his right hand forward.  When he reached five hundred, his mind was too numb to keep counting.  He took a long break to stretch his legs and back.  He knees were tender from the constant crawling on the hard tunnel floor and he realized that at some point, he would be unable to keep moving.  Conner’s worst fear was that he was in a circular maze with no exit.  He would be lost forever and no one would ever find his bones.  With his mind wandering too much, Conner decided he just needed to keep putting one hand in front of the other.

              Conner tried to imagine where the tunnel was leading him.  At first it had made several left turns that made him think that he was indeed in a circular maze.  But eventually the tunnel made a right turn followed by a very long straightaway.  There were more turns.  Lefts and rights in no pattern that he could discern.  At each one, he had the thought that maybe he was at the end, so he would take some time to search for a door or a latch.  All he found was the same smooth wall.

              After another long straightaway, his hands touched a wall in front of him, so he searched for a door.  When none was found, he turned to the left and found a wall.  Then he turned to the right and started to shuffle forward, but he ran into another wall.  He let out a loud grunt and rubbed his head where he had hit the smooth stone.  He was at an end.  Finally.

              Conner turned back to the end wall and he pushed hard on it, hoping there was a door behind the wall.  But it did not move.  He moved his hands along the wall, searching for anything that would open a door.  He found nothing.  Clearly, he missed a turn or a door that would get him out.  He sat back, suddenly feeling despair.  He was not yet thirsty or hungry, but soon he would need food.  And water.  He looked back into the darkness, feeling a knot of despair in his stomach.  He would have to backtrack through the entire tunnel searching for the door that he missed.

              He let out a loud shout of frustration and the sounds echoed back to him from above.  His heart skipped a beat as he looked up and saw a grayness far above him.  He did not directly see a light, but he could see a ceiling lit by some light source.  He stood tall and stretched.  The ceiling was far above him, but he was sure the tunnel continued up there.  He would just have to figure out a way to scale the wall.  He moved his hands along the smooth stone wall and discovered that it was missing bricks spaced just far enough apart that he should be able to climb the wall.

              Inch by inch, he climbed up the wall, moving his feet slowly from one hole to the next.  About ten feet from the top, he could see that the vertical tunnel ended at the ceiling, but another one continued to the right.  With increasing speed, he climbed until he reached the top and pulled himself into the next tunnel.

              The brightness of the light hurt his eyes and he had to blink several times before his eyes adjusted.  The final tunnel ended about fifty feet away from him.  The only problem was that iron bars blocked the opening.

              Conner crawled slowly, wondering what was on the other side of the opening.  He heard noises, but could not quite figure out what they were.  But as he neared the end of the tunnel, he realized that there were street sounds, something that he would hear from outside the castle, not inside.  He carefully approached the opening and looked around cautiously.  Another wall was directly across from him and it appeared that the tunnel opened out into an alleyway.  With a firm grip, Conner grasped the iron bars, hoping that they were rusty or broken and would just give way.  He shook them and the ease at which they moved surprised him.  They were hinged on top and unattached on the bottom.  Quickly, he pushed on the bars and slid out of the tunnel.

              He stood up and looked around.  He was in an alley, outside of the castle walls.  At first he was confused, because he had started on the second level of the interior of the castle and had ended up climbing up some distance just to get back to the ground level.  Then he realized that the tunnel must have sloped slowly down, making multiple turns back upon itself.  He looked back at the grate that covered the opening.  It appeared that there should have been a lock to keep it closed, but there was none.  A slight smile kept across his face.  So this is how she came and went without her father knowing.

Loud voices and shouting startled him into movement.  He had no idea who the voices were or where they were coming from, but he had to assume that they were guardsmen looking for him.  Conner turned away from the sounds and started walking quickly out of the alley.

              The city was abuzz with activity even though the sun about to set.  People were walking and talking as if nothing disastrous had happened.  There was the casual laughter and casual conversations that would happen on any given day at any given time.  The lamp lighters had made their rounds through the market, lighting the lamps that would allow merchants to continue selling their wares after the sun had fallen below the horizon.  Conner walked among them, his eyes scanning down alleyways and cross streets for any signs of guardsmen marching through the streets.  He kept getting sideways glances that caused him to be nervous, until he realized he was still wearing the Royal Guard tunic.  But he had no sword, nor did he wear any chainmail.  It was standard practice that whenever Royal Guard were on patrol in the city, they wore their armor and had a sword at their side.

              A trumpet from far away blared three long blasts followed by three short blasts. Conner, along with everyone else stopped what they were doing and looked around.  It was a signal that wasn’t used very often.  The trumpet signaled for all the gates to be closed, something that only happened in times of war or for other extreme reasons.  Like the Royal Guard looking for the king’s murderer.

              Conner kept moving through the market square while everyone else stood still, looking towards the gates that were hidden behind a row of tall stone buildings.  The silence in the market area was disconcerting.  No one wanted to move or to break the silence.  Stunned faces just looked from one person to another.  Conner wanted to stop, to act like everyone else, but he knew he needed to keep moving or the Royal Guard would catch up to him.  He forced himself to walk slower and hoped that he didn’t stick out as much as he felt like he did.

              Just as he was about to reach the edge of the market area and disappear into a dark alley, he spotted a company of Royal Guard marching together, heading down the street towards him.  They were still far away, and there were many people between them and him.  Conner hoped that he was not spotted, but he wasn’t going to take any chances so he ducked quickly into the first building that he found.  It was a small tavern that was empty except for a single elderly man sitting at table along a wall at the back of the main room.  Conner looked around, hoping for a place to hide.

              “Good evening, sir!” the old man said, standing up.  He walked over and Conner realized that he wasn’t really as old as he had thought.  His hair was gray and he had a scraggly beard, which made him look old.  But he didn’t walk like an old man, nor did he talk like one.  He wiped his hands on his thick leather apron.  “Fresh out of dinner,” the man said.  “But the keg of ale is still good.”

              Conner moved farther into the tavern, away from the doors.  He continued to scan the room, looking for a place to hide or a back way out.

              “Ale, I guess,” Conner said.  He didn’t care for its bitter taste, but it only made sense to try and blend in.

              “Right at it,” the barkeep said.  He moved behind the bar, which filled the center of the room.  He poured a frothy mug of ale in a tall earthen mug and set it on the bar.

              Conner, eyes still watching the door, walked up to the bar and took the mug.  He took a sip and forced the strong liquid down his throat.

              “Strange happenings,” the man said, watching Conner’s eyes flash from the mug of ale to the door ever few seconds.  "Gates haven't been closed in years."

              “It is strange,” Conner replied, hoping that no one would come through the doors.  If someone did, he wasn’t sure what he would do.  Maybe he should go looking for a back entrance, just in case.  Or maybe the guardsmen knew about it and were going to come through both the front and the back doors at the same time.  He really wished he had his swords.  Without them, it felt as if he weren’t wearing any clothes.  Then he had the sinking realization that he would never see his swords again.  There was no chance that he would ever make it back to his barracks to get them.  Somehow, he would have to find something.  Even if it was a long dagger.

              “You keep eying that door like you know someone is coming through,” the man said.

              “No,” Conner replied quickly.  He took another long drink from the mug.

              Suddenly the door burst open and Conner dropped his mug and jumped back from the bar.  He turned, ready to greet his attackers with his fists before they could attack him.

              But it was only one man who came through the door.  He was not dressed as a guardsman, nor was he carrying any swords or any other visible weapons.  He was dressed simply, as a commoner might.

              “Paul!” the man called out excitedly, ignoring Conner and the spilled ale on the floor.

              “What is it, Havid?” Paul the barkeep asked.

              “The king!” the man, Havid, said.  His voice dropped to an excited whisper.  “They say he has been killed!”

              Paul’s face turned white and his eyes got large.  He glanced at Conner.  The other man then noticed Conner for the first time and became stiff.  Both their eyes were looking closely at Conner’s garb.  There was silence in the bar for several seconds while the noise from outside escalated. 

              Finally, Havid broke the silence.  “Who are you?” he asked.

              Conner looked from one to the other and didn’t think that either one was a threat.  But that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t shout an alarm if they told him who he was or what he had done.

              “Are you Royal Guard?” Havid asked.

              Conner shook his head.

              “You wear one of their tunics.  They are looking for someone.”

              “Who is?” Paul asked.

              “All of them,” Havid replied.