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The journey across the city took what he estimated to be about twenty minutes or so and did nothing to improve Adam's mood. With the driver urging on the two horses that pulled the carriage until it was travelling at breakneck speed, he soon began to question the advisability of his decision to go with them. Magnifying the jolts caused by every rut and pothole then transmitting them to the hard seating inside the unsprung carriage, soon had its two occupants thoroughly shaken; their already saddle-sore bodies more bruised than either could have imagined.
Although he had no reason to suppose that the imposing building on top of the hill would be their destination, having jumped to the conclusion that it was the city hall, Adam was a little disappointed when they skirted round its base. Continuing for another half mile or so, they eventually pulled up outside a forbidding two-storey building. Thankful that the journey had ended, neither wasted any time in dismounting. His face green from the effects of motion sickness that had come on during the last stages, Adam felt sure that only Quilvar's natural colouring hid a similar reaction.
Examining the featureless, dark stone facade of the building, relieved only by a huge portico, it put Adam in mind of the worst examples of Victorian architecture. A warm glow of light spilled out onto the roadway from the massive iron studded wooden door that stood ajar, creating the only sign of welcome.
Once inside, it immediately became obvious that the exterior belied what lay beyond. A vast entrance hall lit by the gentle light of countless candles suspended in giant crystal chandeliers, beckoned them, urging them on toward the grand staircase that curved upward from left and right to join a mezzanine floor above. Beautifully carved figures adorned the deep red, stone banisters, the rail a fine grey, whilst black, polished granite formed the treads and risers. Their escorts gave them no time to examine the fine paintings and tapestries covering the walls, as they ushered them up the stairs and along a wide passageway before showing them into a room already occupied by several men seated around a long table.
As they entered, the individual at the head of the table, a short portly man whose remaining hair gave the appearance of a monk's tonsure, got to his feet and came towards them. Dismissing the guards with a peremptory wave of his hand, he addressed Adam in an inquisitive tone.
“My lord er...?” the unfinished question hanging in the air, as his feeble attempt to get Adam to offer his name drew no response, forcing him to finish rather lamely, “Welcome.” Then almost as an afterthought, “and you sire,” addressing Quilvar, who because he was an elf, Adam was beginning to realize meant being treated as one of low station and therefore warranting less attention. “I am Antor; please won't you join us, a drink perhaps?”
Before replying, Adam studied Antor, glancing beyond him at the others who had remained seated, taking in details of the clothes they wore, their well-groomed appearances, and noting the air of self-assurance that surrounded them. If they were influenced in any way by his presence, they showed little sign of it, each seemingly confident of his own authority. It left Adam feeling at a disadvantage, aware that in all probability, the men facing him wielded enough power to have both him and Quilvar thrown into the nearest gaol without a thought, yet he was not prepared to be bullied.
“Thank you, but I think not, an explanation would however, be most welcome.” Adam had no intention of enlightening these people as to whom he or his companion might be, until some explanation had been forthcoming for this sudden and rather imperious summons.
“Of course, and I apologize for what must seem such odd behaviour. There are two reasons why we felt it important to speak with you...”
“Yes I know,” said Adam, cutting Antor off in mid-sentence, “your messenger told us, something about our travelling to Meriandor, also this,” as he tugged at his forelock. “I would have expected good manners to have prevailed upon you to come to me, or is it the custom of this city to treat visitors in the manner in which you have treated me and my friend?”
In the short time it had taken Adam to deliver his admonition, Antor had taken on the appearance of a punctured balloon, his pomposity leaking away. “You're right of course, but my actions were only prompted by our need to maintain complete secrecy. It would hardly have been possible to speak confidentially at the inn, whereas at least here I can guarantee our privacy. I apologize if my methods caused you some distress.”
Satisfied that he had made his point Adam backed off a little. “I shall let the matter pass, but be sure I am not best pleased at being treated in such high-handed fashion.”
“I understand,” Antor replied, and then with a remarkable about face resumed his inept inquisition showing little or no sign of contrition. “You're a stranger to these parts I take it?”
The ploy, if ploy it was, almost worked as Adam, his reply on the tip of his tongue, came close to explaining the purpose of their presence in the city. Biting back on his response, sensing that Antor was fishing, he objected to the implied supposition. Seeing no reason to enlighten him, he simply said, “I travel a great deal.” Which said, was hardly an untruth.
Realizing that his tactics were proving less than effective, Antor tried another, more direct approach.
“Then perhaps you have business here in Corindell, or Meriandor?”
Brusque almost to the point of rudeness, since he wished this pompous individual would simply state what it was that he wanted, Adam replied. “My business is just that.”
His face reddening from what was clearly a rebuke; Antor stuttered, “Quite...quite, yes well of course it is. Look you must think me extremely rude asking such questions, but believe me, I, well actually we, need your help.”
At last, we're getting to the heart of the matter, thought Adam, as he said aloud, “Then why don't you explain what it is that you think I, and my friend here, can do to assist you.”
“Please, why don't we all sit down, and I'll tell you.”
Returning to the head of the table, Antor resumed his place, as Adam and Quilvar took adjacent seats to his right. As they sat, Adam glanced at the nine other occupants of the room, all men, who by the looks of them were all prosperous and presumably important members of the community.
His assessment proved to be accurate when Antor, having recovered his composure and remembering his earlier lack of social grace took the opportunity to make amends. Working round the table, he introduced each by name, their position in the community and concluded with their role in this, the governing body of Corindell.
“Before I tell you about our predicament, I would ask you for your word that whatever you may hear in this room, will go no further. Do I have your word?”
Adam had always considered himself able to get on with most people, especially on short acquaintance, yet here was this man Antor, again irritating him, as he had with practically every word he uttered. Whatever it was about him, he seemed to have an innate ability to annoy Adam. Trying to keep his voice calm, Adam replied, “You ask a great deal on such short association, particularly as it's you who have sought us out. I suggest you explain yourself, and if I feel that it would not be against my, or my companion's interest to keep it secret, then I shall give you my word.”
As he finished speaking, he had to struggle to suppress a smile that was beginning to form on his lips. Now who's being pompous, he thought. He couldn't recall one instance in the past when he'd been so outspoken, yet here he was laying down the law to a man who for whatever faults he might have, was the elected leader of this city's government. Being in this other world had changed him more than a little.
Having no real alternative, Antor agreed, “Very well, since you have the advantage of us, I believe we shall have to trust to your sound judgment. Since as you put it, you have been travelling, then I suppose it's possible you haven't heard of the problems that have beset us.”
Unsure of his ground now, Adam decided to minimize his lack of knowledge, not too difficult in most respects, whilst letting the others know he knew at least something of what was happening.
“I've heard tell that there have been troubles with raiding parties from Antalek and Mandax, and I did hear rumour of an attack on Meriandor, although that may well just be the talk of lonely travellers.”
“News travels fast it seems,” observed Antor. “Would that it was but idle chatter, sadly it is the truth. Castle Randufil was recently attacked by a horde of demon sprites. The king called a meeting of the Administration two days after the attack, and although many provincial leaders couldn't make the journey in time, I was already en route to Meriandor, and was able to attend. I was also able to witness first hand the aftermath of that attack on the city.
It's in a way as a direct result of that atrocity, that we find ourselves in our present predicament. I'm going to have to trust you with information that only these few men share. I do so because you bear the mark, and I believe I know who you are.”
“Whilst I'm flattered you think me worthy of your trust, how is it that you place so much reliance on this streak in my hair, and how do you come to know who I am?”
“Surely you tease me sir, even you who have come from afar cannot be unaware of the legend. Only one may bear the symbol of light, and he has been chosen by the Creator himself.”
Well that's answered one question but keeping the thought to himself he replied. “Perhaps, but that certainly doesn't answer my second question.”
“Agreed, but perhaps I've overstated my knowledge. When I said that I knew you, it would have been more accurate if I'd said I know of you. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but are you not the young man the sorcerer Ichabod brought to Falgorin?”
Dismayed that he'd been identified by such simple means, Adam decided perhaps it was time for him to explain further, but first he had to know just how much more these men knew.
“If you have reached that conclusion, then I suspect you're privy to much more information than you've offered so far. Before I'll confirm or deny my part in matters, I'd want to hear how you came to make such an outrageous presumption. I suggest you continue your explanation.”
“I see from your reaction that my outrageous presumption is nothing of the sort, however, I'll not pursue that for the moment. Before I begin, let me tell you something about myself and my relationship with the Royal Family. As a personal and lifelong friend of King Randufil, it was natural that he should turn to me in his hour of need. I was of course happy to be able to assist in any way that I could, and was pleased when he chose our humble city to shelter his family.”
Unable to control his excitement at what he was hearing Adam had to ask. “Are you saying that the Royal Family is here? Thank God for that.”
“Sadly no, we had been expecting their arrival, so a few days ago I sent out a detachment of guards to escort them to the city, but they could find no trace of them.”
There could be no doubting the genuineness of his feelings towards the Royal Family, the look of pain in his eyes impossible to fake. “Knowing how dangerous it can be, I'd ordered the captain of the guard to ride into the Great Marish Swamp, until he met the royal party. They returned last night, alone. They'd found the place where the party had camped, from which it was obvious there had been a battle. There were the bodies of some of their Jelvoan warrior guards, but there was no sign of the queen, Princess Esperia, or Prince Caslan. Prince Feldric wasn't with them, having stayed with his father in Meriandor.”
Adam wanted to shout his anger, but held back as he thought, we were too late, friend, recalling Beorhtán's warning. Instead, he asked, “What have you done about trying to find them, have you sent word to the king?”
“We've sent more men back to the swamp to search, but it's so vast their attackers could remain hidden forever. When I heard that you and your friend had arrived in the city, I called together the members of this council, and we decided to speak with you before we sent word to Meriandor. If you are who I believe you to be, then surely you can help us, or at least be able to carry word to the king.”
Quilvar, who had until now remained silent; reminded them all of his presence by the words he then spoke.
“Master, I think it time that you put to some use the power that you have.”
“Perhaps you are right, Quilvar,” conceded Adam, “although I had hoped we might have prevented this.”
“Prevented this, how could you have prevented it, why you weren't even here?” demanded Antor.
“I'm afraid it's a long story, and one I would prefer not to have to tell in full, until I have spoken to the king. Suffice to say that I was warned by a very reliable source, that something might happen to the Royal Family. Now we must do what we can to remedy the situation.”
Taking the Manifex from his pouch, Adam tossed it into the air where it came to rest a couple of feet before his eyes. Restored in size, it hung there, motionless.
The gasps from the other occupants of the room were clearly audible; the only person not moved by it was the elf, Quilvar.
“Can that truly be one of the Manifex crystals?” inquired Antor strangely diffident.
“No longer one of them, this is the true, the only Manifex, and it serves me, alone,” answered Adam, his words spoken with a quiet reverence, then abruptly, “now be quiet all of you, I must concentrate.”
Using the very same technique that he had when he'd first gazed at a crystal, in what now seemed an age past, and in such a distant place, Adam stared at the orb, certain now of his ability to succeed.
There was only a momentary pause before images raced across its surface, a replay of events past, played out for him, and only him, to see. He watched the royal party making camp in the great swamp, the strange behaviour of some of the guards, and the battle that ensued. He saw the efforts made by the young prince to save his mother and sister, their captors leading them away, and finally the young prince wandering alone, lost in the swamp.
Something about the way the Queen had tried to retain her dignity whilst being manhandled by the guards had touched Adam. Never before had he seen a creature so beautiful. Silently he made a vow, he would rescue her no matter what stood between them, and then as the last image faded, he sat there, lost in his thoughts, until he remembered where he was. As he returned the crystal to its pouch, several of the men gathered around the table began to speak at once, all clamouring for his attention.
“The Manifex has shown me where we might find the young prince, he's still lost in the swamp, but of the queen and princess, I know not. They've been taken to a far-off place, where the Ghyyrox is holding them captive. There is so much evil there, even the power of the Manifex is unable to touch it.”
“But are they still alive?” a general chorus.
“I think so,” offered Adam, desperately wanting to believe it, but with uncertainty gnawing away at him.
“Can you guide us to where Prince Caslan is to be found?” This from Antor, who was trying to reassert his authority.
“Yes, and we best make haste, I sense that we have little time, for the Ghyyrox still seeks his blood.”
“Then we shall mount a force and ride out immediately,” said Antor, once more in charge.
“No My Lord Antor, the elf and I shall travel alone. It will be speedier that way, and when we have the boy, he'll travel with us back to Meriandor.”
This proved to be too much for Antor, who was not only the appointed head of government in Corindell but was also entrusted with the safety of the Royal Family. Jumping to his feet, his face crimson with anger, he thumped the table with a pudgy fist as he spluttered, “I must protest, the king himself insisted that his family remain here, and we must find the others.”
Untroubled by the outburst, Adam remained calm as he replied, “Nothing you can do will alter their fate, but you must believe me when I say I shall do everything to rescue the queen and princess. As for Caslan, he'll be safer in Meriandor where I can arrange for his protection. Now since it would appear that my companion and I are to forego our first night of comfort for some time, I suggest we set about getting our horses and belongings together so that we may depart.”
For a moment it looked as though Antor might not let the matter rest there, then throwing up his arms in resignation, he resumed his seat.
Eschewing the councils' offer of further use of the carriage, the pair accepted horses to take them back to the inn. Leaving the Red Raven, they returned to the stables, to find the owner waiting for them with four of his finest animals, such expenses as were due having already been paid for by Antor. Whatever had transpired between himself and Adam, it was obvious that in Antor the king had a loyal friend, who would not let anything hinder efforts to ensure the safety of those he was charged with protecting.
Arriving at the south city gate they found the captain of the guard was there personally to open it and let them through, word having been sent ahead about their departure. As they rode off into the night, Adam glanced at the elf riding at his side.
“It looks as though we're going to be kept busy; I only wish we had Beorhtán along with us.”
“I too, Master Adam, but we must do what we can.”
They rode all through the night, and much of the next day, until, too exhausted to travel further, and with their horses all but dropping in their tracks, they called a halt beside a small stream, in the welcoming shade of a nearby tree. Sinking wearily to the grass after tethering their mounts to rest and feed; neither Adam nor Quilvar felt much like eating but contented themselves with some of the oatcakes and wine the innkeeper had given them.
Although the companions were aware of the need for haste, they both knew that to travel further without rest would leave them unprepared for whatever lay ahead. They slept for about four hours before setting off again, wanting to reach the swamp during the hours of daylight. Determined that they should be safely beyond the Marish before nightfall, Adam knew that finding the child even with the help of the Manifex could well prove tricky.
As they took their first cautious steps into the swamp, Adam pulled the Manifex from its pouch and held it out the same way he had in the Glomers' labyrinth. By moving his hand through a wide arc, the crystal shifted colour from blue to orange rewarding him with the hoped-for change. Knowing he had the means of finding the boy prince sent a thrill through his body; the only thing now was time. He had to get to Caslan before the beast of Shegrimoth.
Following their crystal guide, Adam and Quilvar led their horses along tracks that were often barely wide enough to support them; the stinking weed-covered mud inches from their hooves. Once or twice, they saw movement ahead, but each time it was only some creature that lived on the marshy ground. They spotted some of the Corindell guards, but they were too far away to hear their calls.
It was a testing time for them, having to place all their faith in the Manifex, especially after what looked like three hours of aimless meandering. They had no way of knowing if they were heading in the right direction, having left the only recognizable route through the swamp just minutes after setting off. They had no one to guide them out, and there could be no doubt they were hopelessly lost. Everything rested with the crystal.
They didn't stop for food or water, their only delay being a couple of minutes to exchange horses, and still the crystal forced them on. Finally, they reached an impasse. Although the Manifex insisted they proceed, ahead lay an impenetrable barrier of choking weeds and rushes, fully eight or more feet high. Confused and annoyed, Adam couldn't believe the crystal was wrong, and yet there was absolutely no way forward. Was it possible something had placed this barrier before them?
Cursing loudly, but with no idea what to do next, he turned to face the elf who had been riding behind him, the path being too narrow for them to ride abreast. It was then that he got his second shock, the horses were there, but of Quilvar, there was no sign.
“Quilvar,” he called, “Quilvar, where the hell, are you?” but he got no reply.
Shifting uncomfortably in his saddle, it began to sink in just how precarious his situation was. Faced with an obstacle he had no way of passing, the path on which he stood was barely wide enough for him to turn the horses to retrace his steps. Ideally placed had anyone chosen that moment to attack from behind, he had no chance of defending himself. He began to curse the stupidity that had allowed him to be caught in such a bad spot. He railed at himself every way he knew and then some, but it didn't alter his situation, that is until he remembered his power.
Still wary of his untried skills, Adam released his right hand from the reins, and pointing at the living screen ahead willed its destruction. In an instant, and somewhat to his surprise, a bolt of pure white light sprang from the tips of his fingers into its midst. Steam rose, stems cracked and burst, leaves split and charred, until suddenly the whole mass caught fire. Fighting to control his mount, which was doing its best to unseat him, fearing the flames that had sprung up ahead, he managed to calm the animal as the fire died leaving the way forward clear.
Advancing slowly, almost expecting the weeds somehow to take hold of him, he saw that the path again widened out beyond. With his own horses through, he glanced back to find that Quilvar's had remained where they had been left. Dismounting, he went back, and taking the lead horse by its reins, he walked it forward to hitch it to his own horse. Back in the saddle, he called again for the elf, when the little green man reappeared out of thin air.
“Jesus H Christ, you frightened me, where the hell, did you get to?”
Despite the unfamiliar words, Adam's tone and expression carried all the message the elf needed to know he had caused his friend distress. He looked quite crestfallen as he spoke, his words full of contrition.
“I'm sorry Master Adam, but when I saw we couldn't go forward I thought it a good idea if I went to see what lay beyond.”
Still not fully recovered from the shock of finding himself alone, Adam demanded, “How on earth did you do that? No don't tell me, elven magic, right?”
Turning away, Quilvar sought to justify his actions, “Yes Master Adam, as you say. Travelling such a distance is not difficult for elves. I thought I was being helpful, but I see now my efforts were wasted.”
“I should be apologizing as well, I'm sorry Quilvar, I shouldn't have shouted at you like that, but to be honest I was as scared as hell when you disappeared. As for your efforts being wasted, well they may have been this time, but I'm sure you can be of great help, only please, next time tell me before you disappear.”
The elf visibly brightened as he nodded his head, “I will do as you say.” Taking the reins of his horse, he re-mounted then turned to Adam, and asked, “Master, there is one thing that bothers me, what is this hell that you speak of?”
Adam grimaced as he urged his horse forward before answering, “A good question, more appropriate than you can imagine, given the circumstances. Beorhtán has explained to me that here as on my world people believe that the body is the physical home for the spiritual being, or soul. Back on my world, when death occurs the soul is taken from the body to either heaven or hell, dependent on the life its owner has led. If the person has led a good life then their soul goes to heaven, the home of God, whom you would call the Creator, to eternal joy. On the other hand, those who have sinned, or followed the path of evil, go to hell, where the Devil reigns, to eternal torment. As you can see there's little difference between the two ideologies, just the names, here the Devil is better known as Shegrimoth.”
“Are your Devil and God the same being as Beorhtán and Shegrimoth?”
“No, I don't believe so, although I haven't any firsthand experience of either. We're taught that God created our world, and that the Devil was once one of his helpers who turned against him. It's hard for me having to deal with the realities of the situation here, but when I was in the labyrinth of fire, I spoke to the beings that created this world, that's rather difficult to comprehend for a simple mortal.”
As they had been speaking, Adam had continued to walk the horses forward, Quilvar following behind, as the Manifex continued to show them the way. They didn't encounter any further obstructions, and Adam began to wonder if he again he was being tested. This worried him, because he still had no real knowledge of his new capabilities; so far, he'd been running on instinct.
Suddenly his horse reared, almost tipping him from the saddle, shying away as if something ahead was frightening it. No amount of encouragement would get the horse to go forward, its fear rapidly being transmitted to the other animals. Handing his reins to the elf, he dismounted and began edging along the path, more aware than ever that if anything lay in wait, it wouldn't find him much of a challenge. If only they'd thought to arm themselves, although what good that might do he didn't care to consider, having only once held a sword in his hands, and that was when Ichabod had shown him Excalibur. It would have been comforting however, to have it in his grasp right now, he thought.
Whatever was spooking his horse, it had to be round the next bend in the path, so treading as softly as he could, he went forward. Trying to peer round the path that curved away to the left, proved to be impossible by virtue of the towering rushes that stuck out at all angles, constantly on the move with the breeze. An idea suddenly hit him; concentrating on the Manifex, he willed it larger, until it was the size of a football. He intended to use its surface as a mirror to see what lay beyond the bend in the path.
Launching the crystal into the air, he manipulated it until it hung suspended about three feet from the ground, and then using the same trick he had before; he sent it drifting forward until he could see the path again. Although distorted by the curvature of the orb he could see enough in the image to know that something lay in a heap on the path. Whatever it was, it wasn't moving and didn't appear to pose any threat.
Calling the Manifex to him, he shrank it back to its normal size, and holding it ready as he might a weapon, he boldly stepped round the corner. He needn't have worried; it was only a bundle of rags that someone had discarded, although why they should do so in the middle of the swamp didn't enter his head, being too relieved to ponder. Turning back to Quilvar to signal to him that it was safe to proceed; he walked forward, and made to kick the heap from the path, so that the horses wouldn't be scared by it. As he raised his foot, the bundle moved and let out a whimper. Shocked by the movement, he let out a sharp yell, and tried to run backwards, tripping and falling flat on his back.
Either the noise of his fall or the shout that preceded it, stirred something in the rags, and it began to uncurl. First a head and then arms appeared, until it finally resembled a small boy. Hearing Adam's shout, Quilvar had rushed forward, in time to see the boy pull himself into a sitting position, as Adam did the same. Laughing loudly, the elf couldn't hide his amusement.
“Some hero you've turned out to be Master Adam, shouting like that. I thought you'd been attacked, not found the prince.”
With only his ego dented, Adam struggled to his feet.
“Are you telling me that heap of rags is the prince?”
“Unless I'm very much mistaken. You are Prince Caslan, are you not?” The latter addressed to the boy, who was now standing, looking bewildered by the unexpected sight of an elf in the company of one bearing the mark of light.
Ignoring the question, the boy asked one of his own, his voice trembling, as were his knees, fear written in every detail of his face and eyes.
“Have you come to kill me?”
“Good heavens, no, whatever made you think that? My friend the elf and I have come to take you back home to your father.”
Rescue, after the days spent wandering, alone and lost in the swamp went beyond the young prince's greatest hopes. Although these two strangers didn't look as though they posed any threat, Caslan recalled that neither had Drizhus and the rest of the Jelvoans. He wasn't ready yet to take them on trust.
“How do I know you mean me no harm?” he asked in a timorous voice.
Whilst the boy was too small to be of any danger to him or Quilvar, Adam wanted his trust, and didn't want simply to drag him along by force.
“Well I guess you don't, but perhaps this might serve to convince you,” and he beckoned the Manifex forward from where it lay on the ground after his fall.
As the golden globe rose in the air, the young prince pointed excitedly, “My friend the sorcerer has one of those, but his isn't all shiny like that one.”
“If by your friend you mean Ichabod, then I'm afraid he doesn't, at least not any more. I broke it, the one you see here I believe once belonged to a great warrior called Heoar, but now it's mine.”
“You know Ichabod?” his eyes wide, as his face lit up at the thought of his old friend.
“Indeed I do, it's because of him that I'm here to help you.”
Suddenly the youth's face lost its joy, as he remembered the sorcerer's words, and his own failure to protect his mother and sister.
“He told me not to try that spell, and I did, and it didn't work, and now my mother and Esperia are gone.” The words tumbling forth, his eyes beginning to water, as he remembered the attack.
“That's not true Caslan, the Manifex showed me what you did, and it was a very brave thing to try. You could have killed yourself, but you never hesitated. Those who attacked you were just too strong. Now dry your eyes, we have to be getting out of this place.”
Sniffing as he wiped the tears from his grubby cheeks onto the sleeve of his jacket, he asked. “Are my mother and sister dead?”
“No they're not dead, but I won't pretend to you that they're safe. They're in great danger, held prisoner by the evil people that caused your guards to attack you. We have to get to Meriandor so that I can ask the king for men to help me to rescue them.”
The knowledge that his mother and sister were still alive seemed to cheer him up a little, and he wasted no time in following Adam's instruction to climb onto a spare horse. Without a saddle it was going to be a difficult journey, but with his slight weight, and a couple of blankets spread across the horse's back he wouldn't be too uncomfortable. As soon as he was up, he took the reins and urged the horse forward; quite at home, it would seem.
Bringing the pace to a trot, and with the Manifex leading the way, the unlikely troupe made their way through the swamp. They soon found themselves back on the main route, and with the prince assuring them he could manage; they increased speed. Not long after, they spotted some of Antor's men, and hailing them, passed on the news that Prince Caslan was safe and would be riding with them to Meriandor.
The ensuing days gave Adam his first real opportunity to see something of the countryside of his new world, although his fears for the queen and princess dulled the experience somewhat. On the fourth day, they made a detour, when Caslan remembered that on the outward trip, Drizhus had sent two of his warriors into a town that lay to the east, to buy food. Although the lad hadn't said anything, Adam could see that riding without a saddle was causing him difficulty, and he hoped they might be able to purchase one in the town.
There wasn't any need to disguise Caslan, since his ragged and grubby appearance made him look like any one of the dozens of urchins running the streets, and nobody gave him a second look. They found the stables without difficulty, and leaving the horses to be fed and watered, went in search of a hot meal, something they hadn't bothered too much with recently. Whilst they were gone, the owner of the stables had promised to see if he could find a suitable saddle.
There was a small tavern in the town, which although considerably less well appointed than the inn they'd left in Corindell, offered a good wholesome meal that all three ate ravenously. When it came time to pay for their food and drink, Quilvar used his remaining coin, getting a handful of small copper pieces in change, leaving Adam's last coin to cover whatever they owed at the stables. It struck Adam as amusing that he and Quilvar made an unlikely pair of champions, with barely coppers between them, and not a single weapon with which to defend themselves.
The proprietor greeted them as they arrived back at his stables to pick up their horses, his face positively beaming.
“My Lords, good news, I've found a saddle for the lad,” and he trotted inside the barn, calling over his shoulder for them to follow. Inside, he proudly presented them with his offering. Although showing signs of age, the saddle was still quite serviceable, and was an ideal size for the prince, not that Caslan showed concern about its appearance, being only too pleased to have a seat on which to ride.
Having bartered with the man over the price of the saddle and food for the horses, Adam finally parted with their last coin, and they set off again. With Caslan now comfortably astride his horse, the trio began to make speedier progress. Keeping close to the route taken by Drizhus and his group, they followed the Jelvoan's example, seeking suitable campsites by nightfall, and travelling during daylight hours. The weather played cruel tricks on them several days in a row, blowing harsh winds into their faces, followed by long spells of driving rain.
It was after one such day, that whilst they were making camp, Caslan offered to light the fire. Happy to let the boy get on with the job, whilst he and Quilvar battled against the wind to erect a shelter; Adam barely gave the matter any thought. Only when he and the elf had finally finished what they were doing, did he get around to asking how it was that he'd managed to get a cheerful blaze going with only soaking wet materials.
It was the first time that there was any real conversation between the boy and his two companions. He'd always been polite during their journey, but had never offered any comment or started a conversation, not even asking the sort of questions expected from a boy his age. Adam had assumed his withdrawal to be the result of the ordeals he'd endured, and hoped that time would heal the hidden scars. Not wanting to force Caslan into discussion, he'd always been careful to include him in any talk, trying not to make him feel shut out.
His question about the fire lighting had somehow breached a barrier, and within minutes, the prince was explaining how he'd learned the spell from Ichabod. He told them how he'd first lit the fire for the Jelvoans, and how his mother and sister had persuaded the warriors to allow them to cook the meals. This brought back memories of the fateful journey, which had him in tears, the whole sad story tumbling forth as if he suddenly felt the need to purge himself of all the sorrow that he'd been bottling up for so long. It was during this tearful account of what had happened that he mentioned the first attack during their night in the woods.
It was the attack that concerned Adam the most, because, as far as he could tell, they were now very close to entering the same wood. Painful as the experience was, he had to question the boy about the events of that night, and what took place the next day. Once he'd told them all he could recall, Adam realized that there was still a great deal missing. Whatever it was that the scouts had seen, Caslan knew nothing about it, beyond the fact that Jelvoan warriors, some of the bravest fighting men in the world, had been frightened out of their wits by it. Lacking more information, Adam thought they'd do well to avoid the area, and insisted they find an alternative route.
The remainder of the journey to Meriandor went without hitch, although all three were saddle-sore and weary by the time the city came into view. Climbing a long grassy rise, they first spotted its walls as they crested the hill. Far off in the distance, they could see the castle, its towers and battlements standing high above the rest of the city. Excited by the sight, Caslan urged the others forward with renewed vigour, desperate to see his father and break the news.
It took them the remainder of that day to cover the distance to Meriandor, arriving at the city gates, dusty from their travels, yet glad to be back amongst civilization. Adam was as eager to renew his acquaintance with Ichabod, as the prince was to be reunited with the king and his pet cat, placing his hopes on the sorcerer being able to unravel the mysteries of Vilsagoth's message. It was Quilvar, who, since he had no specific purpose in visiting the city, brought them back to earth when he commented that their stay would have to be a short one, since they still had to locate the queen and princess.
When they arrived at the west gate to the city, they were all surprised to find it securely bolted, despite there still being at least an hour of daylight left. Banging on the Judas gate with his fist, Adam demanded to be allowed to enter.
“Who seeks to enter the city?” was the disembodied response he got to his challenge.
“Prince Caslan and two friends,” he bellowed back, thinking that by naming a member of the Royal Family it would provoke some action, which it did. A small wooden flap set in the door at eye level, suddenly opened and a face peered out.
“What's all this rubbish about you being the prince, then?”
“Not me you fool, this” grasping Caslan under the arms and lifting him up that the other might see him, “is Prince Caslan, now open this door or you'll rue the day.”
“Oh I will, will I? Well we'll see about that, but if you expect me to believe that ragamuffin is the prince then you're a bigger fool than I am. Now be off with you or I'll summon the guard.”
“Summon the guard you impudent oaf, or better still summon Kawuhl so I can have him deal with you immediately.” Ordered Caslan in a commanding tone that Adam would never have thought him capable.
The mention of the Army Commander's name caused at least some reaction from the other side of the door, as the flap was shut, and without further word the Judas opened. The moment the three were through the door with their horses, armed men rushed at them from all sides, pinning them to the walls. This was too much for the prince, who sank his teeth into the hand of the man holding him, slipping from his grasp as his grip slackened. Bounding down the nearest passage like a hare with the dogs on his tail, he made good his escape.
Adam and Quilvar looked on in astonishment, hardly believing what they'd just seen. Whilst several of the men set off in pursuit of Caslan, Adam and Quilvar were roughly manhandled into the gatehouse to await orders from the captain of the guard. Searching them and the belongings that were tied to their horses, one of the men had tried to remove the pouch containing the Manifex but had been severely punished for his trouble. Finding difficulty in removing the pouch from its belt, he tried putting a hand inside it, when he suddenly yelped with pain, withdrawing the hand to find the palm badly burned. Cursing Adam for using magic to harm him, and unsheathing his sword, he made to cut the pouch free.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” cautioned Adam, but the man's temper had got the better of him and he wasn't about to listen to reason. Lunging forward, aiming the edge of the blade at the thongs holding the pouch, he only got half way through the action, before being brought to a sudden and violent stop. Lightning arced from the pouch towards the guard, followed by a deep rumble of thunder that filled the small room. Thrown from his feet the next instant, he ended up face to the wall, where he slid to the floor leaving a bloody trace on the stones.
“Well I did warn him,” said Adam to the rest of the assembled company. “Now if I were you, I would fetch that chap Kawuhl, since I'm sure he'd be interested to hear that his men are at this moment chasing the son of King Randufil around this city.”
At that moment Adam heard the door open behind him and a voice ask, “Did I hear my name mentioned?”
Adam turned to face the newcomer, not knowing who Kawuhl was, but instantly recognizing the voice of authority.
“If you're Kawuhl, then indeed you did. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm Adam Goodchild, and my companion here is Quilvar.”
“I know who you are, the elf is another matter. Did you say that Prince Caslan is here in the city?”
Surprised by the offhanded way in which the burly warrior dismissed them both, Adam found himself answering the question.
“I did, and he is. He travelled with us from where we found him in the Great Marish Swamp. Your men refused to believe he was who he claimed to be, so he ran for it. I trust no harm will come to him when they find him.”
Turning on his heel without another word to them, Kawuhl left the room, shouting his orders as he went. Still prevented from leaving by the three guards left to watch over them, Adam and Quilvar resigned themselves to waiting.
