Cheilin Saga ~ 28

 Cheilin Saga ~ 28 Dan the Charmed

By Len Morgan

Efelel sat in Mawld’s mind and witnessed the struggle on the rooftops.   She intervened to gain him an advantage.   She was shocked by the speed and the violence of her expulsion from Aldor’s mind.  Confused, and in a daze, she lost contact with Mawld. 

.-…-. 

Daidan stood up in the carriage and waved, to the crowds en route, encouraged by the warm reception he was receiving.

“I don’t think you should be doing that, light of the world,” said the young woman sitting beside him.   He could not imagine why Aldor wanted her there so close to him.   She seemed such an intensely serious young woman it didn’t even occur to him to ask why she thought she could give orders to the Emperor of Cheilin.

“You worry too much” he chuckled, ‘can’t see what Aldor sees in you’  he thought.   “What is your name?”

“Emmiline,” she replied.

“I’m told you are one of Aldor’s friends from Samishaan?”

“That is where I met him,” she said sighing with relief as he returned to his seat.

“There is nobody out there trying to kill me, listen to them, they love me.”   He shook his head, “It’s all scaremongering, to justify Aldor’s’ position.”

“I certainly hope you are right but…”

“Yes?   Don’t hesitate, my dear, you were about to say something pertinent?”

“Did you know there have already been five thwarted attempts on your life this morning?”

Dan giggled, “We're almost there,” he said but stayed firmly in his seat from then on.

“So which particular threat are you here to protect me from?” he asked.

“I am just a contingency,” she said smiling sweetly.

Forgive me for saying this but you don’t look much like a contingency.”

“How then do I look?” she asked.

“More like somebody my sons would like to know.”

She glanced towards his sons, one with eyes for Zophira only; the two younger boys averted their gaze, furtively, as her eyes fell upon them.   She smiled inwardly.

“Don’t need to be a mind reader to know what’s on their minds” he said.

She blushed, ‘touché’ he thought triumphantly; at last a human response from her.

“They will get over it” she said.

He looked again, disappointed; mayhap he had imagined the blush?

She smiled inwardly and spoke aloud, “touché light of the world!”

“I like you,” he chuckled, “call me Dan.”

.-…-. 

   The confusing scaffold structure, of the reviewing stand, loomed ahead.   It seemed different with hundreds of people milling around.   Major Meredin looked up with true appreciation of the effort and skill that had gone into its erection.    The gaffer had informed him that several men would be posted aloft in case final adjustments were required.   Halfway up he spotted two sun browned men sitting patiently in the basket like construction.   They sat perfectly still, so as not to draw attention to themselves.   But, a movement deeper within the structure drew his attention; a pale skinned figure eased forward from the rear.

Sergeant, take a look at those riggers,” he said.

“Sir” he took a folding glass from his belt and planted it against his left eye.

“Does anything strike you as odd?” Meredin asked.

“They seem very still, one even has his eyes closed, he heh!    That’ll cost him, he just dropped his hammer.”

Meredin turned and grabbed the spyglass, “they’re dead,” he said quietly.   “They have been carefully posed.”   As he looked he saw further movement, the pale figure had moved in closer, behind the two riggers.   “There’s somebody up there, waiting, we need a Bowman, It’s too long a shot for one of those,” he said pointing at the bo’stad on the sergeant’s arm.

The sergeant’s face wrinkled in a pained expression.   “In close quarter situations like this it’s a waste of time attempting to use a bow, so we didn’t bring a single one,” he said.  

“Somebody has to get up there, try to slow the parade down and pass the word, I’ll see what I can do” he said heading towards the structure.

Emmiline spotted the commotion and scanned the sergeant’s mind as he raced back towards the entourage.

.-…-. 

   Aldor witnessed the look of amazement on Mawlds face as he clasped at the quarrel projecting from his chest.

“Why did you play it out so long?   You knew me right off,” he said accusingly.

“I thought perhaps he might give away some useful information?”   Sloan was already looking to his friend Dragor.   “I did not want to kill the man in cold blood; that would have made me no better than him.   I had to cool down and act as an instrument of the law, not as an out of control maniac.   If I allowed myself to act thus I would be no better than those I have condemned and hunted down over the years.”

Aldor had stood over the dying man and scanned his mind which had been left open, almost as an act of confession, revealing all his past misdeeds.   In moments he had discovered a man not so different from himself, but for the accident of birth they could have been brothers.   He learned the details of his childhood, his rise to the heights, his downfall and ultimate enslavement.   He realised Mawld had been driven and acted as directed by Bedelacq, not as the man he had been.   He felt anger and humiliation at the manner in which the creature was misusing mankind.

“Why do you shed tears, for that?” Sloan had been watching Aldor as he knelt over the dead assassin.

“He was a man, and he was gravely misused, but I will avenge him and all like him.”   ‘Bedelacq will not win!’ Aldor vowed.

“That’s conjecture, you don’t know that for sure, you are just guessing” said Sloan his voice cold and empty, but his eyes revealed the truth, without entering his mind Aldor realised that he had guessed something of the truth.

“We need a longbow,” said Aldor dismissing it, and becoming suddenly animated, all he could find were short range weapons discarded by the assassins.   He looked up at the stand, in frustration as he saw movement.

“Why” asked Sloan.

“There are two dead riggers up there and an assassin lying in wait” said Aldor with certainty.

“Then we need to get closer,” Sloan grabbed the nearest bo’stad and a quiver.   They headed along the rooftops towards the stand.   “Do you have anybody closer?   I don’t think were going to get there in time.”

“There should be a man at the top” said Aldor, scanning for the distinctive mind.   A man came to the edge Sloan waved, to attract his attention, and pointed down.

Aldor knew immediately he was not Tylywoch and that the person below was; possibly their only chance.

“He’s not one of ours,” Aldor said, too late to stop Sloan.

 

(to be Continued)

Copyright Len Morgan