Worms' Ending: Book Eight (The Longsword Chronicles 8) (17 page)

Half an hour later and they were in the shadows of an alley
which opened into the courtyard on the northern side of the Keep. It loomed
above them, lights from within illuminating slits of loop-hole light-wells and
the larger windows higher up. There was no grand entrance with sweeping stone
steps rising to iron-braced portals here. Here, facing north, there was a small
door at the top of a short flight of steps below which the gaol for public
offenders reposed, iron gratings making for a poor ceiling in the cells below.
No guardsmen on watch here either, which Gawain found to his surprise intensely
irritating. Perhaps, he thought, there were no malefactors languishing in the
cells, or perhaps the watch was set on the other side of that small and
cheerless north door.

But the Keep was not their objective. Their objective was
the stone building to the left, twenty yards from the Keep’s east wall, and it occupied
almost exactly the same spot where once a Ramoth tower stood, its dark emissary
holding the King of Juria in thrall to a dread and insidious poison. Ironic,
Gawain thought, the location of that new Embassy. With a jerk of his head he
summoned Venderrian forward.

“Only three lights within,” the elf whispered.

“Three?”

“Three. On the first level.”

Gawain nodded his thanks and eased back into the darkness.
Three? He held up three fingers to pass the information to Allazar and Ognorm,
and then gave a hand-signal to indicate the first floor of the squat building.

Allazar held up a black-wrapped hand, three fingers
extended. Gawain returned the gesture, and silently agreed it seemed not to
make any sense for so small a number to be ensconced there. Gawain eased back
towards the Keep’s end of the alley again, and there, crouched between a
cobbler’s shop and a dressmaker’s, studied the rear of the Embassy. Several
barrels and crates were stacked against its rear wall to either side of a
simple door. Barred windows, small and perhaps opening into kitchens or
ablutions, were set in the walls either side of that door. The stone was old,
and Gawain wondered whether Juria’s walls had been plundered to provide the
building material, or some other dwelling or structure torn down to build a
home for Serat of the ToorsenViell.

Thirty yards across the cobbles to the Embassy, but with no
guard set here on the north side of the Keep, it might be possible to sprint,
nimbly, across that open space, and not be seen at all; unless of course some unsuspecting
resident dwelling above the shops and businesses lining Juria’s great square happened
to look out from their window at precisely the wrong time. Gawain sighed, and
again held up three fingers, this time to Venderrian, who replied with the same
gesture.

So be it, Gawain thought, and after another glance around
the northern side of the courtyard, began making the gestures signalling his
intentions. He would lead, of course…

But then Allazar reached out a hand, grasping Gawain’s arm
firmly. Without a word, the wizard stood, released his grip on Gawain and
lifting the staff theatrically, stepped out onto the cobbles to gasps of
surprise from Ognorm and Venderrian.

“Allazar!” Gawain half-whispered, half-hissed, furious, but
there was nothing he could do. The wizard had brought forth a Cloak of
Quintinenn just as he had at Urgenenn’s Tower, and just as he had when he and
Gawain had first stood together in darkness, here, in this very square.

Gawain could see him, and when Venderrian remembered his
eldeneyes, so too could the ranger. Only Ognorm was left completely at a loss
while his companions watched the wizard stride purposefully to the back door of
the Embassy, open it, and step inside.

They waited, listening to the faint night-sounds around
them, Castletown bedding down for the night. The wind rose, swirling around the
great courtyard, creating tiny whirlwinds of dust and debris in doorways and
alleyways.

There was a brief flash from an upstairs window of the
Embassy. Gawain blinked, wondering if he’d seen it at all, but when a second
came, and Venderrian held up a single finger, he knew he had not imagined it.
There was a long silence then, Gawain chewing his lip, Ognorm’s eyes
disappearing and reappearing in the gloom as the worried dwarf blinked rapidly,
too nervous to ask the questions Gawain couldn’t answer. Only Venderrian was
able to see Allazar’s light moving within the distant building.

Then came a third and soundless flash from the windows, and
the elf made an unmistakeable cut-throat gesture and held up three fingers.
None were alive in the Embassy now. None, save Allazar.

oOo

18. Crisis

Gawain was grinding his teeth with fury, fists balled,
watching the wizard intently. Allazar shut the back door of the Embassy firmly
and quietly behind him, paused there awhile, perhaps locking that door with
some mystic tool, and then ambled across the courtyard to the alley as if
enjoying an evening stroll. When the wizard let out a sigh and reappeared to
Ognorm’s eyes in the gloom of the alley, the dwarf was expecting it, having followed
Gawain’s and Venderrian’s gaze, and thus he made no sound of surprise.

“Allazar..!” Gawain began to vent his spleen, but the wizard
held up a hand.

“Serat is in Hellin’s quarters, dining. With him his
assistant, Kahsen of the soolen-Viell, and six of the Toorsengard. The retinue
of elves here is small, the larger force is now in barracks in Vardon. This I
learned from the last of the Toorsengard, his two comrades being rather more…
recalcitrant
than he.”

Gawain’s fury cooled, but anger and deep concern remained.
Though he could not see the light in Allazar’s eyes, he had no doubt that
embers glowed in the depths of those orbs now hidden in the gloom. This Allazar
was a far cry from the timid preacher and practitioner of Zaine’s first mandate,
and that was worrying indeed.

“Dwarfspit,” he managed, and crouched again, eyeing the
Keep. “Dining in Hellin’s quarters…”

“We know the way. We have dined there ourselves,” Allazar
whispered.

“Or we can wait for Serat to return to the Embassy, and take
him there.”

“The Embassy is small and cluttered,” the wizard announced
firmly, “Ceilings are low, rooms small. Fighting half a dozen of the
Toorsengard while trying to take a wizard of the Ahk-Viell alive against his
wishes and those of his guard and a soolen-Viell would be noisy, messy, and
prone to failure.”

“And Hellin’s apartments are on the first level, above the Great
Hall and Guards’ Hall, where sleeps her entire retinue of honour-guards!”
Gawain hissed back, and led them further from the mouth of the alley into the
darker reaches of the passage.

“Dwarfspit, this is madness,” Gawain sighed, and flexed his
shoulders. The rope was heavy and chafed, and the sword, though light in his
hand when he wielded it, hung by its scabbard’s strap which likewise seemed to
press uncomfortably into his neck and collarbone.

“Yet you always planned on coming here,” Allazar whispered,
anger giving an edge to his words. “Else why did you bring with you a miner’s
chisel for the cutting of stone?”

Gawain grimaced, caught as he knew he had been when Allazar
had favoured him with an accusing look the day he’d given Ognorm the borrowed
dwarf-made tool.

“Ooh good point,” Ognorm breathed through the cloth covering
his mouth.

“I had it in mind,” he confessed, “That if we found
ourselves nearby…” but then he trailed off. He’d always intended to try to
honour Jerryn’s request if he could, and in truth while he’d had it in mind,
he’d never actually planned to invade Hellin’s Hall to carry out the deed. Circumstances
had changed.

“It was the Hallencloister brought us here,” Gawain reminded
them, drawing in a breath. “And we have friends here deceived by traitors.
Hellin too must know of the Hallencloister’s fate, and who it is now serves
Morloch’s spite. But we can’t just walk in the front door. It will be guarded.
The rear door too will likely be barred and bolted from within.”

“I can,” Allazar declared.

“You are become all too consumed by your rage, wizard,”
Gawain announced hurriedly, his teeth clenched, “And though some other
whitebeard named you Sardor before fleeing this world, you are still the White
Stick of Raheen and I am still your king! Or does your oath of service no
longer bind you as Zaine’s first mandate once did?”

“I can walk in there and take Serat from under their
sleeping noses! Or I can walk in there and immolate them all as they did the
brethren at Hallencloister! It is to the latter course I am inclined and only a
dim and fading memory of service to you is all that prevents me from so doing!”

Gawain snapped, and in an instant had the wizard by the
throat and pressed up against a wall, his face inches from Allazar’s as he
hissed at the smoky eyes glowing dangerously back at him.

“You are the First of Raheen and you shall do as you are bid
by your king! It is I who am the Deed, not you! You are the Word! You’re
supposed to add knowledge, power and give meaning to the Deed! Not go off and
do it all by yourself! Remember who you are! And remember who I am!”

They were both breathing hard, nostrils flaring beneath the
darkening cloths hiding their faces, the thin material puffing in and out in
time with their breathing. Slowly, as if reluctantly, the embers of rage in the
wizard’s eyes faded, and the slight sizzling at the top of his staff died.
Gawain loosened his grip, and looked across at the top of the Dymendin, the
black cloth wrapped there was darker than the rest, as though wet. He grimaced,
and remembered Allazar’s casual destruction of Kallaman Goth at the Tower of Urgenenn.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, melord, but if’n it’s up that twisty staircase
with the dangly rope for a banister we’re goin’ again, we’ll need to go
unseen.”

“That we will, Ognorm,” Gawain whispered in reply, and
stepped back from the wizard.

“As I recall, melord, the Great Hall is ahead and to the
left o’ the main door, Guards’ Hall ahead and to the right of it, or so it was when
our mate Jerryn led us in last time.”

“Aye, that is my recollection too.”

“Then, melord,” Ognorm muttered quietly, “This big wall o’
names our mate Jerryn told us of is to the right, where them honour-guards are
billeted?”

“True, and directly beneath Hellin’s chambers above. What’s
your point, Ognorm?”

“Got me ‘ammer. Got the chisel. You needs a distraction
while yer upstairs, I can give it. Some of ‘em might know me from Far-gor, but
all of ‘em will likely know Jerryn, and if I can keep ‘em quiet with tales of him,
it’ll give you chance to grab the elfwizard above.”

Gawain pondered the dwarf’s suggestion.

“Arr, well, it were just a thought,” Ognorm mumbled, sheepishly.

“And an interesting one,” Gawain admitted. “Allazar, in the
Eastbinding at the tower you shielded me from view of those within using
Quintinenn’s Cloak. How many of us can you shield with it at one time?”

“One.”

“Bugger,” Ognorm sighed. “’Oped it would be all of us.”

“At Dun Meven you shielded not only me from sight, but
Reesen and Ognorm too as well as yourself!”

“Ooh good point,” the dwarf muttered, recalling their
advance up the steep and Spike-strewn slope unseen.

“At Dun Meven only a single pair of eyes stood atop the hill
to be confused by the Cloak! Here as at Urgenenn’s Tower there are many pairs
of eyes, and all around us.”

“Could you get us all in one at a time?”

The wizard didn’t answer, and with Gawain’s patience already
on a knife-edge, it didn’t take long before the question was repeated.

“Can you vakin get us all in there one at a time or not?”
Gawain demanded.

“It would depend on the number of guards on duty, their
location, and the sensitivity of the Ahk-Viell. It would be too much of a risk
should I or the Cloak be detected while you were alone on the spiral staircase.
You would have the Viell and Toorsengard descending upon you while Hellin’s
guard ascended and barred your escape.”

“Vak!”

 “I could simply walk in there and bring him out, unseen,”
Allazar declared again.

But Gawain stared back at the wizard.

“I don’t trust you, Allazar. I don’t trust that the minute
you clap eyes on elfwizards of the Toorseneth you won’t simply burn to ashes
everyone in sight, including Juria’s Crown!”

 “Oh but I am the First of Raheen, your Majesty, I live but
to serve,” Allazar hissed. “If you command me to fetch the Ahk-Viell out alive,
so shall I do.”

“Hellin must know of the depth of the treachery to which she
and Juria are now wedded! We cannot simply lift Serat from under their noses
and carry him off! That will achieve nothing but another ‘crime’ added to the
list for which I and Elayeen are sought. And still I don’t trust you, not now
with sarcasm dripping from your lips, and not after the slaying of the three
elves in that Embassy and their blood yet dripping from your staff!”

“This is not good, miThal,” Venderrian announced, softly.
“We must work as one or withdraw.”

“Ven’s right, melord, this ain’t getting us nowhere, if’n
you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”

Still Allazar fumed behind his darkening cloths. “Surely the
Deed had a plan when he breached the walls after twenty days of journeying
here?”

“Yes I had a plan! To confront Serat in the Embassy, to
obtain answers, and to drag him before Hellin’s Court and have him confess all!
But you in your rage burst that plan asunder when you burst the elves asunder
within!” and he jabbed a finger in the rough direction of the Embassy. “Now we
have precious little time in which for
me
to make fresh plans which
don’t involve
you
killing everyone including us with your rage and lust
for vengeance! Nor can we withdraw, not now, when at any time those
Toorsenelves might return to the Embassy and find their comrades slain by a
wizard’s blast!”

Gawain’s heart hammered, and he stared at the wizard, saw
him trembling and knew that Allazar was fighting to keep a grip on his rage.
Then, after what seemed an age, the wizard’s shoulders slumped a little.

Gawain’s mind wheeled. Of course he’d thought about what
they would do once the walls of Castletown were breached. In his mind’s eye it
had been simple. Sneak in, grab the elfwizard, beat the truth from him and drag
the wreckage of his treachery before Juria’s Crown and end the insane alliance
between the middle kingdom and the Toorseneth. Elvendere would be elvish once
more, Pellarn would return to the fold, liberated, and Gawain and Elayeen would
live in peace in Last Ridings, with the new Prince of Raheen.

No plan ever survives contact with the enemy
, he
heard Captain Hass say.

Yes, yes, I know,
he thought angrily back to that
voice,
You must always be prepared to be creative
…

Quite so, y’highness. Quite so! It’s always easier to
plan in the peace of a tent, the calm of a quiet ride or in the silence of a
night-camp far from danger. The trick is being able to think on yer feet.
Assess! Always assess! Think of the objective and not the obstacles! Think of
the task and not of the deadline! And if yer not going to be dead in the next
few moments, why then you’ve plenty of time to think, y’highness.

And if I am going to be dead in the next few moments,
Captain?

Why then act, don’t think!

Gawain nodded to himself and leaned back against a grimy
wall. He really couldn’t trust Allazar. Even though he so often told himself he
never really could or would trust a whitebeard, it was still alarming, shocking
even, to think that he couldn’t trust Allazar to carry out what might otherwise
be a simple task. Eldenbeard was responsible for that, he knew. Eldenbeard had
arisen at Urgenenn’s Tower and the terrifying arrogance and power of that long
dead and dust wizard had been mightily disturbing, for Gawain and Allazar both.

It had been Eldenbeard compelling Allazar to the
Hallencloister, and possibly, through the mist of strange aquamire perhaps even
Gawain too. It had been Eldenbeard, doubtless, who’d slain the elves of the
Tau, there in the Embassy. For so long, Gawain had wished Allazar and his robed
brethren would set aside the nonsense of Zaine and bring their mystic power to
bear on common enemies. Now he understood the veracity of the old aphorism
about being careful what one wished for.

The casual slaughter of Kallaman Goth and sundry
lower-ranked elfwizards of the Tau at Urgenenn’s Tower had been one thing. The same
cold execution of elves in the Embassy was quite another. Eldenbeard, a wizard
dead perhaps for millennia, could not be trusted. And certainly never allowed
to act without the closest supervision. Too much depended on it, with the
freedom of the midland kingdom at stake, and with the lives of all surviving
wizards of the D’ith hanging in the balance.

They were all waiting for his decision, for his orders.

Assess!

The Embassy was salted ground, too dangerous to confront
Serat and his men there, forewarned as they would be by the discovery of their wizard-slain
comrades. What qualities did his enemies lack? Enemies? Most in Juria hailed
him as friend, revered him almost, the famed Commander of the Kindred Army, who
saved all the southlands at Far-gor. His true enemies were dining together now,
up in the Crown’s private chambers where he too once had dined, with Jerryn,
and Reesen, Ognorm, and Allazar… Jerryn, once beloved of Hellin, and she now
Queen of Juria...

He drew in a breath, allowed the grey mist of strange
aquamire to swirl while he pondered the likely outcomes of his new-found
strategy, and nodded to himself. The crisis was over. Think on the objective,
not the obstacles. Think of the task, not the deadline. Always assess.
Thank
you, Captain Hass, I would you could know how much you taught me…

“Ognorm and I will enter the through the main south portal
of the Keep in plain sight, and from there enter the Guards’ Hall to honour our
friend’s last wishes. Allazar, once Ognorm and I are past the honour-guard at
the main portal and have entered the Guards’ Hall, you will take Ven under
Cloak of Quintinenn directly up to Hellin’s apartments, there to remain hidden
until such time as I myself summon you both to reveal yourselves. You will take
no action until that time, do you understand?”

“Understood, miThal.”

“Allazar?”