Chapter 14: Darnell's Tale

"They left?" Ragnar cried in disbelief. "When?"

"Sometime yesterday," the innkeeper replied. "Two of the royal soldiers came back yesterday and one of them, Sir Sandor I think his name was, convinced the other two to leave with him."

Ragnar swore under his breath. How did Sandor do it? Despite abandoning him in the tunnel, Denuve had still gone with him. And Garn, why had he left? He would follow orders like any dedicated soldier, and he and Harald had left direct orders to remain in Izmit. Did Sandor have that much influence over the rest of the royal soldiers?

"If it's of any consequence," the innkeeper said, seeing that Ragnar was agitated, "one of the soldiers that came back yesterday is still at the Zenithian Temple."

Ragnar looked at the innkeeper. "What do you mean?"

"He came in with Sir Sandor in pretty bad shape," the innkeeper explained. "He had some nasty gashes on him."

Ragnar thanked the innkeeper and rushed over to the Zenithian Temple. It was still dark out and the streets were very quiet. He noticed the moon was partially blocked by some clouds. He gazed at them as he walked quickly. They weren't very thick but he could tell that they originated from the mountains to the east. There was a storm definitely coming soon if they continued their course.

Ragnar soon arrived at the Zenithian Temple and he quietly stepped inside. Dimly lighted by torches hanging on the wall, ghostly shadows danced across the various stained glass windows. Along the walls were various paintings of Zenithians. They all relatively had the same features: pale skin, green hair, and large, swan-like wings sprouting from their backs. At the far end of the temple stood a statue of a large dragon. Ragnar only knew this imposing looking creature was known as Master Dragon, the Zenithian God.

In front of the statue was a podium surrounded by several small candles. A priest and a priestess were kneeling in front of this podium, apparently engaged in some sort of prayer. Ragnar didn't want to interrupt but he needed to find out where this other royal soldier was.

Silently, Ragnar walked up to the priest. Before he could speak, the priest politely asked, "Is there something I can help with, Royal Soldier?" He hadn't even turned around to face him.

"How...?" Ragnar began, shocked that the priest had known that he was there but he quickly decided that he didn't really want to know. "Um, yes. I heard that you have one of my comrades in care here."

"Yes," the priest replied quietly, still not looking. He motioned his head slightly, and a cleric suddenly appeared from the shadows. "Brother Garon will take you to him." The cleric walked over to Ragnar and motioned for him to follow him.

"Um, thanks," Ragnar said, hesitantly following the cleric. They went to the side of the hall and entered one of several dorms along the wall. Inside the small room were a bed, a chair, a small desk and a single candle lighted. The desk only had one large book, probably containing Zenithian religious documents. In the bed was a man with heavy bandages covering his face. Ragnar squinted and saw that it was Sir Darnell.

"Thank you," Ragnar said to the cleric. The cleric nodded and left the tiny room.

Ragnar silently sat down on the chair and looked at Darnell. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Ragnar considered leaving his comrade to rest but so many questions tugged at him. The only way he would be able to get any rest himself tonight would be to wake Darnell up.

Gently, Ragnar touched Darnell's shoulder and whispered his name. Slowly, Darnell's eyes opened. Darting his gaze left and right, he tilted his head and noticed Ragnar. "Captain!" he said, smiling weakly. "Great to see you. Come to pay final respects?"

"You aren't through yet," Ragnar smiled. He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Are you feeling all right?"

"Better than before," Darnell said quietly.

Ragnar paused again. He didn't want to push his comrade's endurance but he needed answers. Eventually, he asked, "Do you think you'd mind telling me what happened?"

"Not at all," Darnell replied. "I've been meaning to get it off of my shoulders anyway..."

Darnell hacked away the dense foliage in front of him. It almost seemed futile, for every bush, scrub, or branch he chopped away with his sword just seemed to be replaced by another. It was as if the forest didn't want him to go any further.

He looked back, checking that Sandor and Mandrake were both behind him still. Sure enough, both soldiers were still with him, hacking away at the forest just as much as he was.

Darnell turned his head back to the task at hand. They had been pushing through the forest for at least an hour now. From the perimeter, it didn't look like it was that far to the tower they saw when they exited the tunnel.

Darnell quickly pushed the thoughts of the tunnel aside. They had been lucky to escape the large den of healers. In fact, if Sandor hadn't noticed the flicker of movement from the tributary tunnel, they would all have probably been ambushed and killed. Darnell suddenly thought of Denuve, who had blindly rushed off down a tributary chasing after a couple of healers. Darnell had tried to convince Sandor and Mandrake to go searching for their missing comrade but they assured him he would be all right, and that the missing children were more urgent. Although he made no indication of it, Darnell secretly despised Sandor for his decision. However, he was unable to do anything about it. Sandor was a superior, and any refusal of orders was considered an act of treason. Reluctantly, Darnell followed Sandor and Mandrake out of the tunnel, leaving Denuve alone to fend for himself.

Now, not even half a day later, he was leading their little group to an old, abandoned tower.

Darnell had no idea why Sandor was possessed to get to the old watchtower. Everyone knew the ancient structure was hardly worthy of notice. Darnell pictured it out in the middle of the lake covered in moss, mold, and vines.

A hack here, a slash there, and, quite suddenly, the forest opened up. He was now standing on the edge of the lakeside. The lake was relatively round and quite murky. There were no signs of beaches, just the lake reaching up to the very edge of the forest.

Some distance in the center of the lake was a small island and on the island stood the old tower. From this distance it looked in relatively good condition, given the fact that no one had inhabited it for several hundred years.

"There it is!" Sandor said, his voice full of excitement.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir," Darnell said, "but why is it so urgent that we get to this tower?" Darnell didn't like to question a superior but he had to know the reason for their being here.

"It makes perfect sense for the children to be here," Sandor replied, his eyes fixed on the tower. Darnell looked at Sandor, expecting him to add more. However, Sandor started to walk along the water's edge, always looking at the tower.

"Well, how're we going to get across?" Mandrake asked, following Sandor. "There's no way that I'm going to swim. That water's gotta' be freezing."

Sandor studied the water for a moment, and then said, "Start making a raft. We've got to get to that tower."

Darnell and Mandrake looked at him, confused. Sandor, noticing they hadn't moved, shouted, "Now! That's an order!" Reluctantly, Darnell and Mandrake did so.

In a few hours, a seven-log raft was made and ready for launch. Sandor immediately hopped on and Mandrake slowly got on as well. Darnell hesitated.

"Something wrong, Sir Darnell?" Sandor asked impatiently.

"I think you should tell us why we're going to that tower, sir," Darnell replied. "There's no possible way the children could get over there. They lack both the strength and the ingenuity of making a raft to cross the lake. And I seriously doubt that a kidnapper would use the tower as a hiding spot. It could collapse at any minute and it wouldn't do any good if he was crushed while holding children ransom."

"My motives are irrelevant!" Sandor snapped. "You will follow orders or be tried with treasonous acts. Understand?"

Darnell stood still for a moment. He didn't like the situation he was getting into. Sandor was definitely not letting on about all that seemed relevant. It was perfectly clear that he had an ulterior motive behind going to the tower. What it could be, Darnell couldn't begin to guess. However, Sandor was a superior and he had to follow Sandor's orders, whether he liked them or not.

"Understand?" Sandor repeated, more forcefully.

"Yes," Darnell muttered, and hopped onto the raft. Mandrake pushed them off and all three began to paddle out into the lake.

Aside from the ripples they were causing, the lake was very still. Hardly any wind was causing waves and Darnell figured one could shout from one side of the lake and another person on the other side would be able to hear them as clearly as if they were side by side.

Darnell looked at Sandor for a moment and noticed he was completely entranced by the tower that loomed before them. What was it about the tower that made him so damned obsessive? In fact, Darnell figured that Sandor wasn't even concerned about the children; that he was using this whole scenario as an excuse to come to this tower.

When he thought about it more, Darnell began to see a much larger picture. Abandoning Denuve in the cave, leaving Izmit in such a hurry, and now threatening him to get to the tower. Whatever it was that was drawing Sandor, Darnell didn't like the thought of it. No one should be this obsessive.

Despite whatever consequence he would receive, Darnell stopped rowing and threw his rowing stick into the water. Sandor and Mandrake looked at him, confused.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Sandor asked calmly. His mouth twisted into a strange smile, which made Darnell just a little more nervous.

"I am disobeying an order," Darnell said defiantly. He stood straight and rigid, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Mandrake," Sandor said without even looking at the soldier, "keep rowing." Darnell looked at Mandrake. The soldier looked at both of his comrades, apparently trying to decide which side to choose. Without a word, Mandrake looked away and kept rowing. Darnell didn't know what to think at that moment. He had hoped that Mandrake would side with him but it appeared that he was on his own.

"So," Sandor said, placing a hand on his hilt as well. "Open treason. You do realize that such punishment can be very severe."

"That's for our King to decide," Darnell said grimly.

"Indeed," Sandor muttered. He paused for a moment, running a hand through his raven black hair, "but why should we bother our King with such trivial matters."

"W...what do you mean?" Darnell asked, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Well," Sandor began, rubbing his chin, "treason is a violation of the King's command. The King would probably not like to have treasonous persons within his kingdom."

"You should talk," Darnell muttered under his breath.

"Death would be the appropriate sentence," Sandor said, fingering his sword hilt gingerly.

"The King would never hand out such a sentence," Darnell argued, becoming worried. He quickly looked around. They were halfway across the lake, too far to swim anywhere. He was trapped on the raft.

"He should," Sandor said evenly, smiling evilly.

Without any warning, he whipped out his sword and slashed at Darnell. Darnell had expected such an attack but didn't know when it would come, so he was caught partially off guard. He managed to get his sword out in time but didn't have it in a good enough position to completely deflect Sandor's attack. The force of Sandor's blow knocked Darnell's sword from his hand and Sandor's blade bounced towards Darnell, slicing down his shirt. A thin line of blood followed the blade's path and Darnell instinctively grabbed onto his chest.

Almost too late did he realize that such an action left him wide open to another attack. Before Sandor could strike again, Darnell ducked. Sandor's blade came within inches of Darnell's head. Darnell used his momentum to bowl down Sandor. His only hope would be to knock him off the raft.

They collapsed in a heap at the edge of the raft, Sandor's sword falling out of his hand into the lake. Darnell managed to get on top of Sandor and began to push his head into the water. However, he had forgotten that Sandor still had his hands free.

Before he even realized it, Sandor punched Darnell in the head and grabbed onto Darnell's sword. Darnell got up, shaking his head. He looked at Sandor and saw that he had a sword in his hands. Darnell quickly looked around the raft for a weapon but there were none.

Sandor charged Darnell, knowing the advantage was fully his. Darnell tried to dodge but, in the limited space, Sandor managed to cut a deep gash into Darnell's leg. Darnell screamed as a fiery pain shot up through his body. Sandor then slashed again, this time across Darnell's chest.

Blood spilled out onto the raft and Darnell's head began to swim with dizziness. His vision began to cloud as he collapsed onto the deck. He was no longer feeling any pain, just an immediate sense of peacefulness. He looked up and saw Sandor prepared to deliver a deathblow. He was saying something but Darnell couldn't hear clearly. Whatever it was, it must have been insulting. Darnell tried to spit at Sandor face but too much blood had mixed with his saliva already, and it just trickled out onto the raft.

All Darnell could think of that moment was how short of a life he had lived, how he had never really been able to do any real adventuring like he had always dreamed of doing. Then again, death was often considered the ultimate adventure. It might actually be worth all of the pain.

Darnell waited forever for Sandor to finish him off. It seemed that he was going to die from pain before the final blow would be delivered. What was taking so long? Slowly and painfully, Darnell looked up again.

He might have imagined it but Darnell swore that he saw Sandor huddled over Mandrake. Mandrake wasn't moving at all. Why was that? Did he fall asleep while they battled, or did Sandor kill him too?

Suddenly, an arrow shaft thudded right in front of Darnell's face and he gasped in shock, forcing even more blood through his mouth. He looked around and, through clouded vision, saw several arrows flying from the tower. The tower was shooting arrows at them! Luckily, it wasn't a good shot as most of the arrows fell wide of the raft.

Darnell didn't have much more time to contemplate it. He could feel his mind slip from consciousness. His head collapsed to the raft again and he felt like he was swimming in the water just a few inches from his face. The last thing he remembered seeing was Sandor pushing Mandrake's body into the water, an arrow protruding from Mandrake's skull...

"...And that's all I remember," Darnell finished.

Ragnar was nearly fuming from hearing Darnell's tale. He always figured Sandor was a problem but he never believed that Sandor would ever do something of this sort. And Ragnar couldn't do a thing about it. The royal soldier code strictly stated any soldier that disobeys a direct order from a superior was charged with treason. In essence, Darnell was guilty but surely King Burnard would overlook the circumstances.

"One thing bothers me," Darnell muttered, interrupting Ragnar's thoughts. "Why did Sandor save me instead of just dumping me off of the raft like he did to poor Mandrake?"

"I know," Ragnar said, rubbing his mustache. "It is all very confusing." There was silence for a moment as both soldiers took in their thoughts separately.

Finally, Ragnar looked up and said, "I think I should go to that tower and have a little chat with Sandor." Ragnar didn't really know what he would say but he would at least be able to order Sandor back to the castle. Once Sandor was out of the way, at least he wouldn't be able to cause any more harm.

Ragnar was about to stand up when Darnell suddenly bolted up and caught Ragnar by the arm. "No!" he exclaimed. "You mustn't!"

"Why?" Ragnar asked, shocked not only by Darnell's statement, but also by the fact that Darnell actually had the strength to stop him.

Darnell paused for a moment. Ragnar noticed it almost looked as if he was looking behind him. Ragnar turned to look to see if there was anyone there but all he saw was his shadow flickering on the stone wall.

Darnell then looked up at Ragnar and replied, "The children are more important right now."

"But-"

"Sandor can wait," Darnell said, relaxing his grip on Ragnar and settling back down in his bed. "He will have to return to the castle sometime and I'll make sure he will get what he receives. Finding the missing children is what matters right now."

"I..." Ragnar began, but stopped. Darnell was somewhat right. The longer he waited, the more trouble the missing children could end up in. Besides, Garn was a superior to Sandor. He was smart enough to look out for himself and Denuve should Sandor try anything funny again. He would just have to trust them.

"I understand," Ragnar said, grabbing a hold of Darnell's hand. "You get some rest now."

Darnell nodded. Ragnar smiled and left the tiny room.

As soon as Ragnar left, a shadowy figure emerged from the corner. "I'm sorry," Darnell said. "I nearly blew it."

"That is all right," the figure said in a quiet voice. "So long as he continues on his quest."

"But it isn't right that Sandor should go unpunished," Darnell muttered.

"It isn't for us to decide whether it is right or wrong," the figure said quietly. "Our destinies are designed by Master Dragon, and Sir Ragnar Calgor's destiny is to search for the missing children."

The shadowy figure began to leave the room but paused by the door, allowing some of the hall's light shine on his priestly robes. He turned to Darnell and added with a wry smile, "Besides, the Master loves irony."

Darnell looked at the priest as he left. What did he mean by that? he wondered. However, he did not have much time to ponder it as he felt drowsiness setting in once again.