Mighty Hammer Down (7 page)

A muffled rattle of keys came again
from the other side of the door, then a knock.

"Come," Tannis said. The door swung
open and a guard entered.

"The Emperor wishes to see you
General. He says it’s urgent."

He sighed. "Very well. Stay here with
the Vindyri. Do not speak to her."

"Yes sir," he said as he saluted and
stood at attention beside the door.

Tannis got up and approached him. He
took the guard’s keys and exited, locking the door behind
him.

As soon as she was sure he was out of
earshot, she violently elbowed the guard in the nose. The blow to
the nose wasn’t that hard, but his head snapped back and hit the
stone wall with a sickening thud. He fell unconscious to the floor,
noisily breathing a bloody mess onto the granite. She squatted
down, careful not to hurt her ankles in the process, and checked
him quickly for another set of keys. She found none. She thought
for a moment and realized there must be keys in this room. The
guard who took her here had to unlock the door to enter. Tannis
would not be locked in here without a set of keys, and he took the
guard’s keys when he left. There had to be another set.

The only place they could be was in
the desk. There was nothing else in the room. It worried her that
the desk was too far for her to reach while her feet were clamped
so tightly to the floor, but it was close enough to touch, so maybe
she had a shot. She stood up slowly, took a breath and reached out
to the desk, laying her body over it. With her hands tightly
clamped, it wasn’t easy, but she reached down and felt the handle
of a drawer. The guard began to stir.

As she fumbled to open the drawer, she
knocked over the only candle in the tiny room, plunging it into
darkness. Frustration turned to panic as she found the drawer
locked. In a desperate attempt to find a solution, she felt along
the desk. To her amazement, she found what she was looking for. A
single key hung on a nail on the other side of the desk. She
thanked the gods for her luck.

The guard made an attempt to speak,
but he was still out of his wits. Her time was running out fast but
she had to be careful and not rush. She could only touch the key
with two fingers. If she dropped it, she would probably never have
a chance like this again. She calmed herself as best she could, and
lifted the key off the nail. Putting it on the desk, she switched
hands and positioned the key so that she could put it in the lock
without dropping it. She stretched as far as she could, which was
causing the shackles to cut into her ankles. Biting her lip against
the pain, she felt for the lock.

Her panic rose as she heard noises
from outside the room. She didn’t know what was happening, but she
knew she had to hurry. To add to her problems, she felt the guard
touch her leg. He was coming to. She hoped that the darkness would
confuse him and make him think he was waking up in his bed at
home.

With much relief, the key finally slid
into the lock. It turned and clicked without trouble, and she again
thanked the gods. She opened the drawer with her thumb and groped
for a set of keys, finding instead papers and other small,
unidentifiable objects. She threw everything to the floor, hoping
to find what she was looking for.

Finally after an eternity of
searching, she grasped a cold metal ring. She jiggled it and it
rang with the glorious sound of brass keys. Carefully pulling them
out of the drawer, she pushed herself off the desk back into the
standing position. Squatting down, she tried several of the keys in
her leg irons. The guard cleared his throat. She thought maybe he
was awake now but unaware of his surroundings. Quietly she tried
the last key. It worked. The tight irons fell off and clanked to
the floor.

"What…who’s there?" the guard
said.

She wasted no time. She kicked at the
place she thought his head would be. She got him right under his
jaw, sending him right back to his unnatural slumber. She unlocked
the shackles at her wrists and threw them behind the desk. Bending
down in the darkness she felt for the guard’s sword and pulled it
free of its scabbard.

Feeling the lock on the door, she
tried a key. This time it worked on her first try. She swung the
door open just enough to peer out. No guards were in the immediate
area, so she opened the door and exited, locking it behind her.
Instead of running aimlessly, she ran back down the narrow corridor
towards her cell. Finding the right key, she opened the door. This
plan had to work.

She entered the room and stomped over
to the corner. She lifted the chin of the woman chained there face
down. This one would simply not do. Before the woman could ask what
was going on, she went to the other woman in the far corner.
Lifting her chin, she decided that this was a better choice. She
hastily unlocked the woman’s shackles.

"What’s happening? How did you get the
keys? Are you one of us?" she asked as she looked thankfully
through teary eyes.

"Quiet. You only have this one chance.
Don’t ask questions," she said as she finished unlocking the irons,
handing the woman the sword and dragging her over to the door. "Go
on, get out of here."

"Where do I go?"

"Anywhere! Run!"

The woman left without another word.
Alana locked the door and then threw the keys out through one of
the high windows. She laid face down in the corner the woman was
in, putting the shackles on and clasping them.

This plan had to work.

Chapter 7

Rommus stopped by a local fountain
when he finally arrived back in Brinn. The day was hot and the cool
water was much needed. The Medorans had mastered the art of
directing water from distant rivers into their cities and towns
through aqueducts, creating an elaborate water system for the
cities. Most of them were similar to this one, carved of white
marble and polished to a high luster. Adorning the fountains were
statues of gods or heroes, and sometimes even past Emperors. The
wealthy had fountains and baths in their homes, but most people
came to the public fountains to drink and get water. Since they
were such busy places, people stayed to socialize, and the cities
even built structures around some of them so that the citizens
could relax and mingle in the shade.

Rommus didn’t spend much time there
however. He would stop for a drink or to splash cold water on his
face, but he knew that the people there did not welcome him.
Somehow it seemed that everyone had secretly turned against him,
avoiding him as if he were a Mage. Maybe he was just overreacting.
Perhaps they found him intimidating because of his size. He wasn’t
a giant man like his father, but he was well above average in
height and build, although to him it seemed that they weren’t
staring at his large arms and broad chest. To him it seemed that
they looked away as soon as they caught his eye, as if meeting his
glare might turn them to stone. Whatever the reason for it, he had
learned to accept it and pretty much ignore everyone around him. He
felt guilty sometimes when his presence seemed to kill laughter or
abruptly end a conversation, but he always reminded himself that he
had nothing to do with how people reacted to him. They were the
cause, not him. He went out of his way to avoid offending people
and he was polite when someone did decide to talk to him. Those
occasions, however, were rare.

He finished at the fountain and made
his way deeper into the city. Across the street, through some
horse-drawn wagons, he saw the famous artist, Ehlom Nagelic. He was
talking to himself, quite loudly, while carrying what looked like
large scrolls. His frail body shook with rage at his invisible
companion as he spoke to the air. Rommus wondered how anyone could
be so angry at the world. He smiled as he thought of the man, as
quirky as anyone could be, totally lost in his own world and
talents. Ehlom attempted to shoulder someone out of his way, but
instead he was thrown into a wall. He cursed loudly, picked up a
dropped scroll, and turned the corner out of sight.

Rommus couldn’t help but admire the
man. He had talent, no doubt, but that wasn’t it. The man had
something. It was a fire, a goal. It was something that he could
see in the distance, and he was always scurrying to reach it. At
least he was driven. At least he had a purpose. Rommus wished for
such a goal. He was always looking, and it never presented
itself.

But like Ehlom, Rommus had talent.
Maybe he wasn’t a painter or sculptor (although he had never tried)
but he was a master metalsmith. He once had made armor and swords
for the army, but since then he had supported himself crafting
custom weapons and armor for the wealthy, teaching himself how to
do the delicate scrollwork and gold plating. Most of them were for
decoration or ceremonial use, since no one wanted to pay such a
large amount of money for a beautiful work of art just to have it
shattered in battle. Those people would never know it, but any of
his work would stand up to any abuse in any battle. Some of the
Medoran army refused to fight with anything else.

There were two traditions he always
kept while forging these great arms and armor. One was that he
never made any of it while the sun was in the sky, and the other
was that he included a few drops of his blood in the oil he used
for tempering. The blood had no real purpose, but he had done it
ever since the first time he ever tempered anything, cutting
himself accidentally that time. Since his weapons were always of
such outstanding quality, he decided not to break the
tradition.

He made his way up the street and
towards Mirra’s house. She would not be expecting him, and might
not even be home. It was no trouble however, since her house was on
the way to the Emperor’s Hall, and he wanted to stop there to check
on his father anyway. A particularly smelly horse clopped its way
down the hill he was climbing, and he waited for it to pass before
crossing the street. Turning the corner, he counted the five doors
like he always did, the fifth one being Mirra’s.

He knocked before opening the door. He
called her name, but no answer came. Quietly, he entered the room
and stepped on something soft. Picking it up, he jogged up the
stairs two at a time. Mirra’s door was closed, and he rapped gently
on the door. She moaned in irritation inside. Opening the door, he
was surprised to find the room dark.

"Are you still sleeping?" he said with
surprise. "Get up already, it’s after noon!"

She turned from him in a mock pout as
he made his way to the window, noisily drawing the curtains open.
Sunlight flooded the room and she covered her head with her satin
sheets.

"Rommus close the curtains," she
pleaded.

"No, this is unhealthy, you need air
and sunshine. I should have come earlier and taken you into the
woods. What happened to you yesterday by the way?"

She threw her sheets from her head
with both hands, submitting to the annoying idea of waking up. "I
was with my mother. We were all the way over in the east side of
the city and we ran into some people she knew. You know how she is.
I figured that it would be getting dark by the time I got there so
I didn’t bother, I’m sorry."

He bent over and kissed her forehead.
"It’s all right. You’re forgiven. Did you hear about my
father?"

"Your father? No. Why? Is everything
okay?"

"He’s okay now," he said as he sat
down on the edge of her bed, "but someone tried to kill him. It was
a Vindyri woman too, if you can believe that. She stabbed him and
then escaped. The funny thing is, I think I might have met her when
I was waiting for you yesterday."

"And you didn’t try to stop her?" she
asked as she laid there in the bed.

"No, I met her before it happened. I
didn’t know what she was going to do. It might not even have been
her. There are plenty of Vindyri wandering around
Brinn."

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to
the cloth in his hands.

"Beats me, it was on your floor
downstairs by the door. I thought maybe you had dropped it or
something."

He threw it to her, amazed that she
would change the subject so quickly. She caught it and opened it up
to inspect it, realizing it was a sack. She examined it, front and
back. Looking inside, she found nothing, and tossed it in a corner.
She sat up and hooked her hair behind her ears.

"I was attacked yesterday
too."

She rushed over to him and threw her
arms around his neck in alarm. "Oh Romm, are you okay?"

"Yes I’m fine. Aren’t I
always?"

She hugged him tightly, refusing to
let go. "Rommus I can‘t stand to see you hurt."

"All right, all right already. I said
I’m fine," he said with a smile. "Now get off me."

"Well what happened? Why would someone
attack you?"

She loosened her grip and nestled
herself into her sheets, keeping a caring hand on his
arm.

"I don’t know. It was very odd. Two
Mages confronted me on the road from the cliffs."

"Mages? They sure scare me. What are
they for anyway?"

"Honestly I don’t really know," he
said as he absentmindedly knocked on the wooden frame of her
bed.