Lyndon Hardy - Master of the five Magics

"Necessity imparts sharpness to your thoughts, lady Aeriel," Festil said while rising slowly to stand besides his son. "Quite surely I believe you have hit upon the intent of the castle's original design. If the walls were to fall, the towers would still have to be taken; then with underground communication, each could aid the others so that all might stand. But on balance, my son's plan seems a good one. We have not the towers, but only the chambers underneath them. In addition, the blood of Bandor's vassals now runs hot with victory and lust for rape and plunder. Our salvation may be a surprise thrust, as you say, but I think it wise to sit until our captor's zeal cools in the careless boredom of guard duty before we try."

"Well enough, lord Festil," Vendora said softly. "We need time to assess our situation. Lord Feston, continue to conduct yourself as you have. I appoint you commander of whatever forces remain. See that order is established and the entrances to these dungeons well guarded."

As she spoke, the queen looked around the high and windowless walls of the chamber and reached behind her for a cloak that was not there.

"Here, my fair lady," Feston said dramatically, releasing the clasp of the cape of the man who stood near and whirling it about her. She clutched it eagerly and drew it tight while her eyes darted again about the room.

Alodar and the others caught her mood and somberly shifted about as the reality of their plight began to sink in. They were safe for now, true, but in the long run what did that matter? A desperate attempt to break out was the best they could devise. Their lives were at stake and no glimmer of hope could credibly present itself.

No glimmer, unless indeed the castle possessed one more secret defense to aid them. And if he could find it and thereby save the queen, ah, who would be the hero then? Oppressed by their trap as were the others, but grimly determined, he headed into one of the passageways to search again for some clue.

Alodar flicked back his cape and sat to rest on the rust-encrusted slab in the center of the chamber. He glanced over to the wall where Vendora huddled in the cape Feston had given her two days before. Her shoulders stooped and her hair lay tangled and matted against her brow. She listened half attentively as Feston squatted easily at her side, telling her small talk of the four guard detachments under the towers.

Alodar sighed. Their band was so small and their fates so intertwined that the formalities of rank had begun to give way. But he did not want to approach the queen himself until he had some positive news of discovery to present to her. He dug his gouge into the soft red rust beneath him for perhaps the tenth time and left another shallow furrow beside the others. The fresh cut revealed nothing new, only rust deeper still. Perhaps the whole slab was rotted through and would soon turn to dust.

"Marking off the hours, journeyman?" a voice asked over his shoulder, and Alodar turned to see Aeriel taking a place beside him. The dagger at her side clanked against the slab and Alodar glanced down at the bare blade and stubby hilt.

"Are you left-handed?" he asked as she followed his gaze downward.

"No." Aeriel laughed. "It is but my nature. The fair lady insists that I wear the badge of office as do the others of her court, and so I must. And were the blade of any value I would carry it properly; but it is only a useless symbol, so I display it accordingly."

"A magic dagger and of no value," Alodar said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Costly enough in coin or barter," Aeriel said. "Enough so that a craftsman could never hope to own one. Yet not so dear that the nobility would be likewise denied. It is the perfect token for one to declare that he is wealthy. But for its utility as a weapon?here, judge for yourself."

Aeriel withdrew the dagger from the loop at her waist and passed the hilt to Alodar. He wrapped his hand around it and immediately pursed his lips in surprise.

An electric tingling pulsed through his fingers and shot up his arm. He felt goosebumps pop out on his chest and back. For a moment his eyes watered and his tongue felt dry.

"It is magic, there is no doubt," Aeriel said. "What else gives one such a feeling? Though you do get somewhat used to it after a while."

Alodar nodded and tightened his grip on the hilt. His fingers and thumb slipped smoothly into small indentations in the grip, and the pommel snuggled comfortably against the base of his palm. The dagger felt like a natural extension of his arm, as if custom tooled to fit his hand and no other.

He reached out with his index finger to test the point which looked surprisingly blunt and frowned in puzzlement when he made contact with the cold gray metal.

"Yes, that is why it is so absurd," Aeriel said. "And the edge of the blade is the same. Impossibly dull and unyielding to any grinder's stone."

"Cannot the magicians give it an edge as well?" Alodar asked as he handed the dagger back, releasing his grip reluctantly. "With a feel like that one almost would be tempted to take on a swordsman."

"As I understand it, the ritual is set," Aeriel said. "Any change destroys the symmetry of the whole. Either one accepts a perfect hilt with a blade of no value or a dagger with no magical properties at all. And of course, if such a dirk as this could cut, the magicians' price would preclude it from the baubles of the nobility."

"You speak most strangely of your peers, my lady," Alodar said with the beginnings of a smile.

"I did not reach the council of the queen by adhering to what convention would expect of me, Alodar," she said. "Had I thought and acted as the rest of Vendora's childhood friends, then now I would be no more than a lady-in-waiting, concerned with pretty needlework, rather than affairs of state. Let the likes of a Festil be guided by tradition, rather than what each situation uniquely demands. I will not be frightened by an idea, just because it has not been previously recorded in the sagas.

"And as proof of that," she continued, returning Alodar's smile, "please call me Aeriel. There is no need for ceremony for one who seems to work so diligently in our cause. I could not but notice that you react to our situation in a different way than most everyone. Rather than moping about when free from a turn at guard, you have been examining each mortar joint with that small glass of yours. Do you still carry out the queen's commands of now so long ago?"

"Yes, I still look for a key," Alodar said. "But as yet I have found none. I am beginning to think that there is nothing in the passageways to aid us. The answer must lie in one of these three chambers under the keep. So I visit each in turn, hoping for some inspiration."

"And which is next?"

"The second level, the one with the pillar."

"Good, let me go with you."

Alodar blinked, but then quickly nodded his agreement. The two left unnoticed out one of the passageways to the towers. They trudged along in silence for awhile, and then Alodar decided to make the best of his opportunity.

"How fares the queen under our duress?" he said.

"Alas, she lets her fate weigh heavily on her shoulders. As you can see, she broods too much to conduct herself as her station requires she should."

"But if somehow we are indeed rescued?"

"Ah, she would return to her former self in an instant, full of glory. And ample gratitude for the man who saves her."

"Regardless of station?" asked Alodar.

"Yes, regardless." Aeriel laughed. "I see the queen interests all men in the same way."

Suddenly, before he could continue, the ground shook with a long rolling wave; the torch lights blew wildly and flickered dim. The narrow passageway roared with the sound of crashing stone, and the shock, muted and stretched by the thick walls, echoed for several moments.