Excerpt from the Battle, a Novel by Laura Lond

"So you think it's an accident?" the king asked the chief of the guard who stood in front of him, across the nicely set table.

Alvard was about to have his breakfast, which he had ordered to be served early today, when Werlon came in to report the discovery of Henky-Roo's lifeless body.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Werlon nodded. "Or a suicide. There is no evidence of struggle, nobody heard any noise or shouts. The only unusual thing is that his little black amulet is missing."

Alvard lifted his brows, reaching for a cup of coffee a servant had just poured and placed in front of him. "Hmm... That might be the key. Talk to Baron Kagarlak, see what he thinks of it. He must know the worth of that amulet, and whether someone would kill over it."

Werlon bowed. "I will do that right away, Your Majesty."

"That's a pity," Alvard mused, having dismissed the chief of the guard. "Not that I was very fond of Mr. Henky-Roo or pleased with his work, but, as it turns out, he did one good service to me, for which I have not had a chance to thank him. I don't think it was suicide though. Do you, Traun?"

The young general, proud to no end to be present at the king's breakfast, squared his shoulders. "No, Your Majesty. Suicide requires certain courage, and our poor magician didn't seem to have any."

"You did not have a very high opinion of him, did you?"

"Neither of him nor of his occupation, Your Majesty. Talking was all he was good for."

"True." Alvard gestured to the servant to cut the bread. "Talking and promising things he could never accomplish. I'm surprised he is the baron's student - the baron is good, although his manners are rather irritating. But, I suppose you can't have it all in one man. He is a foreigner, after all. At least he knows his job."

The general was about to answer, but the king's butler knocked on the door, interrupting him.

"Mr. Sholler, the warden, is asking for immediate audience," the butler announced.

"Ah!" Alvard gave a satisfied nod. "I suppose he's made our little spy talk. Let him in."

His smile faded when Sholler burst in and, not saying a word, threw himself on the floor at the king's feet. Alvard put down his cup, anger making his chest swell. What has he done, for goodness sake?!Overused torture and killed the guy?!

"What is it, Sholler?" he demanded.

The man propped himself up with his hands and spoke, still looking down at the floor.

"The prisoner... Tarres... escaped, Your Majesty."

Alvard thought he misheard him. "Escaped!" he repeated. "From the royal prison tower? Escaped?!"

The warden shrunk at the sound of the king's raised voice, visibly trembling. "We have been guarding him as no other man, I swear! But somehow he'd made it out... He was helped, I am certain of that."

The king clenched his teeth, struggling hard to remain composed. "Oh yes, of that I am certain as well. And I don't need to look far for the helper." His flaming eyes flicked to Traun. "I thought your people were watching Lord Farizel, General!"

The general snapped to attention. "They were, Your Majesty, and they still are. The last report I received was that he never left his quarters after returning from yesterday's horse ride."

"He didn't do it himself, then. Well, of course: he is too smart for that. He must have figured he was being watched, and found another way. But that's all right. Let him try to deny it. Let us see whether he dares to look me in the eye and claim that he's got nothing to do with it! Guards!"

"Allow me, Your Majesty," Traun stepped forward. "I will see to it personally."

"Very well. Go! Bring him here."

The general didn't need to be told twice. Having promptly left the king's quarters, he rushed to Farizel's, barely able to hold his excitement. At last! At last he has made a mistake, that brilliant Lord Farizel. Big mistake. A fatal one. Traun smiled cruelly, running up the stairs. You have such confidence in your power, you think you can get away with anything, don't you? Well, not this time. This time, you have gone too far, and I'll make sure the king sees the worst of it. He chuckled. Snatching your pet out of the royal prison tower, huh? Despite the accusation of treason and espionage, no less. Good, very good. Just what I need. Whether you are a spy yourself or not, I'll make sure you look like one.

Traun reached Farizel's quarters and burst in without knocking, ready to shove aside the butler and force his way to the lord's living room and, if need be, even to the bedchamber. However, the lobby was empty; no one came out to stop him. The general crossed the hall and pushed the living room door. What he saw brought him to an abrupt halt: Marias, Farizel's butler, lay unconscious in an armchair, tied to it with a thick rope.

"What on earth..."

Traun swore as he realized that Farizel had outsmarted him once again. Furious, he stormed to the bedroom - it was empty, of course, the large bed neatly made, obviously untouched since yesterday. It turned out the lord wasn't so overconfident, after all: he knew he had taken too much upon himself, and he fled. How he slipped past his watchmen hidden in nearby corridors, Traun had no idea, but the man was gone. Curse him!...

The general dashed back to the living room and halted again as another thought struck: this meant Farizel was part of the treason. Of course! His escape proved it beyond all doubt. He had signed his own death sentence by running away. And it was not yet too late to catch him.

Traun was about to run out and call for the guards when his eyes fell on the open door of Farizel's study. Something prompted him to enter it and give a quick look around. A lonely envelope lying on the desk immediately caught his attention. The general snatched it up. To His Majesty, it said. And it was not sealed.

Traun hesitated a moment, glanced at the door behind him and pulled out the letter. As he read it, his lips tightened with determination.

"No, Your Lordship," he whispered. "This will not do. You are not admitting anything, you're still playing innocent, even now, trying to present yourself honest and noble as ever... This will not do."

He cast a nervous glance at the door again, crumpled the letter and tucked it deep into his pocket. His hand shook as he picked a clean sheet of paper and a quill, fear washing over him at the thought that someone might enter the room any moment. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath, trying to steady his hand and mind, and wrote.

Your Majesty,

At last you have figured me out. I must say I am rather surprised that it took you so long, but then I am such a good liar, wouldn't you agree? It's been very amusing to watch you buy my performance and fall for my tricks so completely... Did you honestly think I'd forgotten? I can't believe you were so easy to fool.

Anyway, I enjoyed playing this game. Too bad I must give it up now. Farizel.

The general finished writing and hurried to throw the quill back into the holder as if it was burning his fingers. The moments he needed to dry the ink were agonizing, he was almost certain he'd heard footsteps outside the door... But no one entered. Traun folded the letter, placed it into the envelope and pushed the envelope to the middle of the desk.

Done. It looked just the way he had found it.

He ran back to the living room and called the guards. When they burst in Traun was leaning on the butler's chair, pretending to be examining the unconscious man while in truth he could barely hold himself upright, the terror of what he had just done gripping him more and more. But it was too late to back out.

He managed to give out orders, sending some of the men to the king, others for the chief of the guard and for the physician. Having called his own watchmen as well, Traun questioned them; they all swore that Lord Farizel never left his rooms, since yesterday night, just like they had reported. Yelling at them helped the general to regain composure, to some extent. They wouldn't lie, he knew, and they were good men, yet somehow they blew the assignment. Farizel did get past them, and they were going to pay for it.

Werlon arrived almost immediately, together with the chief of police. They took charge, to which Traun didn't object. Shortly after that Alvard stormed in, fuming, his eyes mad with fury.

"Gone!" he thundered. "When?! How?! I thought I had guards in this place!"

"The butler appears to have been sedated, Your Majesty," Werlon reported, bravely facing the king. "He is waking up, I will question him right away. There are no other traces so far, except for a letter, addressed to Your Majesty, that was found on the desk in the study."

Traun glanced up, sick with fear again. The handwriting! If he examines it closely...

Traun was careful to imitate Farizel's hand as well as he could, but he was in a hurry. What if he'd missed some important detail? Would it come out if compared to the writing on the envelope? He should have replaced it as well!... But again, it was too late now. He could only hope that Alvard wouldn't notice the difference.

"Bring it to me!" the king snarled.

One of the soldiers was already handing him the letter. Traun watched Alvard open it; he saw his lips twist and color drain from his face, then return in a flush. He knew Alvard had finished the letter - there was not much in it to read - but he kept holding it in front of him, as if still reading, obviously fighting a gale of emotion. At last the hand that held the letter clenched into a fist, crumpling the paper.

"Treacherous... treacherous... snake!"

Werlon and the soldiers stared at the king, transfixed by the fiery passion of his exclamation. Traun gaped, too. If he thought Alvard mad before, he was wrong; the madness that burned in his eyes now was downright frightening.

Slowly, the king turned to the chief of police. "I want an order for his arrest sent out immediately," he spoke, his voice thick with rage, barely controlled. "Along with a sketch of his face. Bring in all the artists you can find, put them to work. I announce a reward for his head, five thousand shemmels. The same for Jecosan Tarres." He paused, breathing hard. "Both criminals must be caught. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the man bowed.

"Put your best people on it and spare no resources. Question everyone. Block the roads, especially those leading north. Search the city, turn the whole country upside down, but find these two."

"Yes, Sire."

"There have been too many blunders. I will tolerate no more." The king's wild eyes switched to the chief of the guard. "Werlon, you are relieved of your office."

Werlon looked pained, but said nothing. He wasn't specifically told to watch Farizel - Traun was, and it was his men who blew it; yet the king's wrath fell on Werlon, and the old warrior accepted it with quiet dignity. Having unfastened his sword belt, he took it off, together with the sheathed weapon, and put it down on a nearby chair.

However, Alvard hadn't forgotten about Traun, either. The general braced himself as those mad, murderous eyes fixed on him next. For a terrifying second he was certain that the king would see through his uniform, right into that pocket, and demand that he produced the stolen letter...

"Your men go to jail, Traun. And you'd better get information out of them if you do not wish to follow."

With that, Alvard swung around and walked away. Traun watched him go and saw with immense relief that while passing a fireplace in the next hall the king threw the letter he still had clutched in his hand into the flames.

It was gone. Now Traun only had to destroy the original, and this nightmare would be over.

***

It was a long day, and a crazy one. Interrogations continued for hours and hours, with little result. None of the guards saw Farizel leave the palace. Neither did Marias, his butler; he could only remember sinking into that armchair after his master had offered him a glass of strange tasting wine. Over a hundred artists were brought from all over the city and seated in two large halls to draw the face sketches. The court artist, who knew Lord Farizel very well, had made one first, quickly and accurately, and the others set out on copying it. Tarres' face sketch proved to be a challenge. The artist couldn't remember him well enough and had to rely on description given by others. He'd made six sketches before he managed to come up with one that bore fair resemblance - a delay the king didn't appreciate but could do nothing about. However, when the good sketch was done, things started rolling fast. Couriers ready to go waited on their horses right at the palace doors; as soon as another copy was completed, they'd snatch it and fly to their destination, carrying orders for local authorities to make and distribute more sketches immediately. Very soon, everyone in Meoria would know what Lord Farizel Narr and Jecosan Tarres looked like.

Traun was interrogated by Merville, the new chief of the guard. Fortunately for the general, everyone knew his hostility toward Farizel too well to suspect him of helping the lord to escape, including the king, so the interrogation was more of a formality. However, Alvard's threat was still in force, and Traun had little doubt that he would end up in jail if he fails to find out how his watchmen missed Farizel. He questioned them over and over again, using his fists quite liberally, and at last came across a curious inconsistency. The two men who followed Farizel during his horse ride said that he returned to the palace at nine in the evening, wearing his blue cloak and hat; however, the watchmen inside claimed they did not see Farizel around that time, and when he did go past them at ten thirty, heading to his rooms, he had a brown cloak and hat on. Confused at first, Traun quickly figured what it meant: the man in blue was not Farizel, it was a decoy he had used. He'd traded clothes with someone, making Traun's men follow the wrong person while he had several hours on his hands to do whatever he wished unobserved. That still didn't explain how he slipped by the watchmen in the palace corridor when he fled, but the puzzle was solved at last by Merville discovering a secret passage in the lord's study - a door skillfully hidden behind a large painting. Needless to say, the passage led to the city.

Another piece of information came from a guard at the northern city gates who admitted to letting Lord Farizel out of Kanavar around two in the morning. According to the guard, Farizel traveled in a simple carriage driven by two black horses. Whether Jecosan Tarres was with him, the soldier did not see, but he thought there were other people in the carriage.

As to Tarres's escape, there were no leads at all. Questioning revealed nothing; thorough searches of the cell and eventually the whole prison tower brought no result. The guards did not hear or see anything - or so they claimed. Torture, when applied, only led to conflicting accusations, clearly lies invented under the pain.

The king was so outraged, many thought he would have another one of his pain attacks, very likely fatal this time. However, that did not happen. Instead, Alvard took his frustration out on Sholler, the warden, sending him shackled to the iron mines, and later on Lord Corvale, a careless young man who was whipped like a commoner for his unfortunate remark that Farizel was awfully smart to have pulled off something like that. Merville, the new chief of the guard, was threatened with whipping as well, despite his discovery of the hidden door.

It was a crazy day.

When Traun was finally dismissed for the night at ten in the evening, he was exhausted, mentally and physically. He longed to slip away earlier, but he dared not displease the king even in the slightest way. Not at a time like this, when everyone was walking on eggshells.

Having reached his rooms, the general went straight to the bedchamber, shaking off his uniform jacket as he walked, and collapsed on the bed. Then he remembered about the letter. Traun cursed. His head ached, his whole body felt weak and refused to obey. He hated to have to get up again, but that needed to be taken care of. The general rose, picked up his jacket and reached into the pocket. The pocket was empty.

Traun froze, breaking into cold sweat. What?! He had it here all day, it had to be here. He never took it out. And he couldn't have lost it, he'd tucked it in deep enough... Wrong pocket? Traun frantically searched them all, outer and inner ones, then the pockets of his shirt and trousers, then the floor where he'd dropped the jacket a few moments ago. The letter was gone.

Shaking, Traun brought a hand to his forehead. Now, think, think. Where could it possibly fall out? He had the jacket on all the time... No! He did remove it once, when he got too worked up questioning his men. It was in that guardroom, the one near the stairs.

The general threw the jacket back on and rushed out of the bedchamber. He steadied his step as he left his rooms, in case someone would see him; many were still up, and he didn't need to draw attention by running like crazy.

He was half way there when a dark figure emerged from an adjoining corridor.

"General Traun? A word with you, if I may."

Traun frowned as he recognized Baron Kagarlak. They were briefly introduced yesterday, but he didn't care for the man's acquaintance; besides, he was not in the mood for chitchat. The general was about to snap a refusal, but something in the baron's black eyes warned him that he'd better not turn this man into an enemy.

"What is it, Baron?" he asked.

"Let us please step aside."

Annoyed, Traun followed the Avirian to the smaller corridor he'd come out of.

"Well?"

The man held something out on his palm. "I need a new keeper for this. Would you do me a favor and wear it?"

Traun scoffed at the ridiculous request before he saw what the baron was showing him. Then he saw it, and recognition stopped the contemptuous retort ready to fly off his tongue. It was the amulet Mr. Henky-Roo used to wear around his neck all the time, the one that was missing since the magician's death.

The general stared at the small black stone, then lifted his eyes to the baron's face. The Avirian met his look with a wicked grin.

"So it wasn't an accident?"

"No. I was displeased with Mr. Henky-Roo. He failed my expectations."

Traun gaped in disbelief. The man was openly admitting to murder!

"And what makes you think that I'll keep your secret and not report you to the chief of the guard, or the king himself, this very minute?"

The baron looked away, bouncing the amulet on his palm. "You don't happen to be missing a piece of correspondence, General, do you?"

Traun grew cold.

"A small piece," the Avirian went on, studying the corridor wall. "More of a note than a letter. Addressed to His Majesty and signed..."

"That's enough," Traun interrupted in a quick, rasping voice. "I understand. Where is it?"

"Its present location bears no importance, but it will be in the king's hands if we do not reach an agreement."

The general swallowed hard. "What do you want for it? How much? I will pay."

"I've got no use for money. I want assistance. And obedience. Wear this amulet and keep your mouth shut about what I've just told you. In return, I will keep mine shut about the letter. Deal?"

"I must see the letter destroyed."

The Avirian grinned again, turning his eyes back to the general's face. "I'd be a fool to agree to that, wouldn't I?" He held out the amulet once again. "Now, put this on - if you accept my offer, that is. You can hide it under your shirt, no one needs to see it. In fact, no one should."

Traun took the amulet. He had no choice.

"Why do you want me to wear it? I am not a magician or wizard, I know nothing about such things."

"That is my business. I'm not asking you why you did what you did."

Traun straightened the amulet's chain, getting ready to place it around his neck. "How do I know that you will keep your part of the deal?"

The baron shrugged. "You'll have to take my word for it, I'm afraid. I'll keep it as long as you keep yours. And I don't think I am asking too much - not nearly as much as I could."

That was certainly true. With that letter in his possession, he held the general tight in his grip and could have manipulated him into anything.

Traun put the amulet on, tucked it under his shirt and stood there waiting, too humiliated to speak.

"Good," the wizard approved, eyeing him with that same wicked grin. "Don't take it off; I will know if you do, and I will be displeased."

"Will that be all, Baron?"

Traun wanted to put some sarcasm into the question, but it came out with none and sounded pitifully submissive instead, which the Avirian clearly enjoyed.

"Yes. Thank you. You may go."

The general turned around and walked away, his cheeks burning with shame and anger. He was reaching the stairs when the baron called after him.

"Oh, General?"

Traun stopped and looked back.

"One more thing. Do be careful with the amulet, for your own sake. If you happen to break it, you will die."

***