A/N: First of all, oceans of thanks to faithful reviewers Amaya the scribe, Lady the co-member of Piccamop, pubkeeper Villana Bane, and reading-at-work kirdane! And a big warm welcome to new reviewers ab sab and Aelan Greenleaf. You are all Very Cool People, with capitalization!
I started out writing this chapter determined to make it shorter than previous ones, but it ended up being the longest I have ever written. Funny how it works out like that… 2 years have passed since the fiasco in the Moot. We'll leave off politics and get to see a bit of action, for a change. I hope you enjoy this one!
This chapter is dedicated to LimeJuiceTub and Violinboy, who both suggested that I explore Holehallow. It's all their fault!
Holehallow
Captain Javen of the Royal Guard was having a hard time maintaining a mournful expression as he tried to look in all directions at once. Some people did not appreciate just how difficult his job was. He was required to guard the Royal Family at all times, and act appropriately while doing it. Standing straight and showing no emotion whatsoever that particular morning had proved more challenging than any other time in his recent memory, for after the requisite seven years of mourning, the late King Berillan's body had finally been interred in Holehallow.
The procession had started in the Watchwood and proceeded down the large staircase. Black-clad mourners had carried the body on a bier, and placed it inside the ship bearing a figurehead carved in the King's likeness, wielding sword and scroll. The funerary ships with their black sails were an enduring tradition from an older time, when the country had first been colonized by a great seafaring people. Personally, Javen would be quite satisfied with a normal grave, but you couldn't argue with tradition. After the body had been interred, Head Charter Mage Girvase had managed to complete the ceremony without too many breaks in his voice, and finally Lord Cassiel Abhorsen had placed protective spells around the ship – spells of a final death which would prevent the beloved King from being raised by necromancers.
The ceremony was now complete, and most of the guests were returning to the surface. A celebration of King Berillan's life was to be held in the Watchwood, and the prospect of food and drink out in the summer sun was tempting. But Javen's duties were far from over. The King, Prince, and Princesses were staying behind for a private moment in front of Berillan's funerary ship. Queen Penemue had graciously volunteered to go above to start the festivities, giving her husband and children a chance to properly grieve. Even Andromis' darling Lady Charsia was temporarily detaching herself from the Prince's hip to leave him with his grandfather.
Javen beckoned one of his officers to his side. "Lieutenant Warrel," he said as quietly as he could, "take a contingent of guardsmen with the Queen. The Wallmaker and the visiting Clayr are going up above too, and I put them in your charge. And keep an eye on Lady Charsia – the Prince would be most upset if anything happened to her." The Lieutenant saluted smartly and gathered his men.
The members of the Royal Guard were all young noblemen, mostly the younger sons of Lords. Every one of them was a powerful Charter Mage, and armed with either spear or sword. Although they were considered elite, Javen was still on edge whenever the safety of the Royal Family was at risk, and he especially did not like situations like these when they were all gathered together in one place. In his opinion, it was the perfect target for any Anti-Wall extremists.
Javen noticed that the Abhorsen had stayed behind with his strange dwarf servant, and that gave him some solace; he knew Cassiel to be an excellent fighter.
"Captain?" A guardsman had stopped in front of him to report. "Sir, Lieutenant Staunis wishes to alert you to the fact that there has been a breach in our defences. Somebody destroyed the wards on the doors during the ceremony. They went undetected."
The Captain quietly dismissed the guard as his mind worked overtime. Only people with unsullied Charter Marks could pass through those doors unscathed, but if somebody had destroyed the wards… He scanned the Lords and Ladies who were heading up the wide staircase. It must have been a powerful Charter Mage to break those wards without being caught.
A suspicious-looking couple caught his attention. They were standing by the door with an enormous retinue of liveried servants, and had made no move to follow the crowd outside. With a gesture, Javen summoned Lieutenant Oscaer to his side. "Take a few guards and check on that couple by the door," he whispered. The Lieutenant saluted, and Javen approached the King. He was rather afraid of the man, but it was part of the job to speak to him from time to time. "Your Majesty," he said quietly, not waiting to be acknowledged. "You may be in grave danger. I recommend that you leave this place immediately for a more secure location."
King Dantalion turned to the younger man, who received the brunt of an indignant glare. Javen was aware that interrupting somebody who was mourning his father was very rude, but the Royal Family's safety was paramount. "Thank you for your concern, Captain," said the King irritably. "I trust that you and the rest of the Royal Guard will take care of the situation." He turned back to the funerary ship.
Javen resisted the urge to glare, and instead cast a pleading glance at his wife. She took the hint. "Father," she said in a low voice, "surely Javen knows what he's talking about. Shouldn't we listen to him, just in case? He would not ask us to move if he did not think it necessary."
The King remained stubbornly silent. Cassiel and his dwarf moved closer, instinctively drawn by the signs of quiet conflict.
"He's right, I remember now," said Princess Sitri, startling them all. She looked as if she were just awakening from a daydream. "We should listen to him," insisted the Clayr with sudden resolve.
Even the King was not one to argue with a Seer. With a reluctant sigh, King Dantalion nodded his permission, and Javen signalled the guards. They surrounded the King and his children protectively, and Javen led the way to the staircase, striving for an appearance of calm.
By this time, most of the people had left to join in the festivities aboveground. Javen could see Lieutenant Oscaer and his men speaking with the suspicious couple, and hesitated. He did not want to lead the King past them while they remained. Lieutenant Staunis joined him, shooting his Captain curious glances but asking no questions.
Suddenly, one of the couple's liveried servants shoved at a guardsman, and the others revealed weapons that they had hidden under their cloaks. Somebody cast a spell, and a chunk of the wall was blasted apart, showering everyone with dust and bits of rock. A lady screamed, and Javen fanned at the dirt-filled air in front of him, trying to get his bearings. Guardsmen in their red and gold started to materialize out of the greyish haze.
"Oscaer!" he shouted, coughing as he inhaled a mouthful of dust. "Hold the staircase! Staunis, you're with me!" He received muffled calls of assent, before organizing his men into a ring encircling the Royal family. Among them he could see the blue of the Abhorsen's surcoat, and a white patch that had to be his dwarf. Rubbing grit from his eyes as he ran, Javen led the way to a side door and cast the spell of opening.
They barrelled through into instantly clearer air, and Javen did a quick head-count. Lieutenant Staunis and all of his men were there, as well as the four members of the Royal family, Lord Abhorsen, and his short servant. "Staunis, close the door," he ordered.
"Will it keep them out?" asked Farelle. She looked remarkably calm, although Javen noticed that her eyes were wider than usual.
"I'm afraid not," said Javen. "One of them at least is a powerful Charter Mage. We will have to go deeper into Holehallow." He ignored the shocked expressions on the faces of his charges, and set about organizing the men. "Staunis, take rearguard with the Abhorsen. I'll take point."
As the Captain of the Royal Guard, Javen knew every trap and pitfall scattered through the sprawling network of tunnels and sinkholes known as Holehallow. A member of the First Bloodline could pass through most of them unscathed, but Javen had his men and the Abhorsen to think of, too.
He led them down the tunnel, and into another, much smaller sinkhole than the burial ground. Javen felt a ghostly touch on his Charter Mark, and just spotted two guard sendings fading into the stone.
There were three tunnels leading away from this chamber, and he took the middle one. They emerged in an even smaller sinkhole than the last, which was almost completely comprised of a spring. Javen removed the spells from each cross-hatched stepping-stone as he made his way across. Some of these spells were quite cruel, and promised walls of flame, poisonous barbs, and bottomless pits should any perceived trespasser try to go by. Holehallow had been crafted a long time ago by the original Kings, and protective spells had been woven about and into the very earth. They were savage spells remnant of an earlier time, but they were spells of the Charter, and Javen knew the keys.
They finally entered another enormous sinkhole of unworked bedrock, which stretched nearly a mile across. It was sealed from the open sky by a gleaming net identical to the one that protected Berillan's burial ground. Javen knew that this place was destined to house the funerary ships of future Kings and Queens – if he managed to keep the Royal line intact, of course. There were seven of these large chambers in total, and so far two of them contained ships.
They passed through in almost reverential silence, skirting a little bubbling pool of water, their clothing getting caught on thorns and brambles. Javen led the way unerringly to a narrow spiralling staircase, but paused at the doorway. He could hear noises coming from the far end of the sinkhole. Their attackers had managed to break through, and had nearly caught up.
"Staunis," he said quietly, "pick five men to hold the doorway." Javen wouldn't admit it aloud, but he was relieved that he could delegate such unpleasant tasks to somebody else. Without waiting to see which men his Lieutenant chose, Javen turned and started up the staircase, whispering spells and wards non-stop under his breath. These were deadly, subtle protections that required much of his concentration.
After many minutes of this, he spared a fleeting glance over his shoulder, and Farelle gave him an encouraging smile. The King's expression was unreadable, but the older man looked quite tense. Javen supposed it was the combination of being chased by a group of homicidal lunatics, and the fact that the staircase was making everyone claustrophobic.
From behind him, Javen heard Staunis reporting that their pursuers were on the staircase. He stopped still, and one of the guards ran into him. Despite the calm tone of voice with which this message had been delivered, an invisible wave of fear seemed to ripple through everyone. Even the Abhorsen's dwarf looked uneasy.
Javen came to his senses and squeezed past the guards and the Royal family until he reached the back of the group, having managed not to tread on too many people's toes. "Staunis, do you remember the wards protecting this place?" At his Lieutenant's nod, Javen continued: "Good. Take half of the guard and lead the way up the stair." Staunis looked like he was about to argue, but Javen fixed him with a firm glare, and his subordinate bowed his head in submission.
Javen looked back at his wife. Farelle's lips were parted as if she wanted to say something, but she merely shook her head sadly. Javen watched her until she was out of sight before turning away.
He was quite surprised to see that Cassiel had stayed behind as well. The Abhorsen nodded affably, and gave a tight smile. "Good day for a fight." The albino dwarf rolled his green eyes, but Javen was much too nervous to say anything. The remaining guardsmen had moved themselves into battle formation on the narrow staircase, and now they could do nothing but wait, and hope that the spells defending the steps killed enough of their attackers to afford them an even chance.
The tramp of feet on the stone steps soon came to their ears, and Javen drew his sword. "Try to take them alive," he ordered as the guards copied his action, "but your own lives are your main concern. You are members of the Royal Guard. May you fight well."
As the footsteps drew closer, an irritable voice asked, "Will you loose my collar?"
Javen glanced down to see the Abhorsen's servant glaring at his master. Cassiel grinned and shook his head in refusal, and the dwarf muttered something about it not being his fault that he didn't want to face an enemy in such a ridiculous form. Javen decided not to ask, and adjusted his grip on the sword. His palms were sweaty. Glancing at the blade, he did not see his own reflection, but rather the image of a figure in black armour. He had no time to wonder, before the enemy attacked.
They came charging around the bend of the staircase – straight into the front rank of guardsmen. The Royal Guard retreated in concert, giving the foremost men room to fight. As the men crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in the first row engaged in hand-to-hand combat, the guards behind them cast spells that had been flickering ready at their fingertips. Javen caught sight of the Abhorsen wielding his sword, and beside him the white dwarf slashing at an attacker's legs with sharp nails. Several of the attackers were bowled over, some sustaining quite serious injuries.
All of their attackers bore the Mark, which had allowed them to pass so far through Holehallow unscathed. Javen could not count them all, as their numbers stretched beyond the bend in the stair, but the young Captain hoped that most of them had been struck dead by the wards. However, Javen had been right about there being at least one powerful Charter Mage among them.
"Captain!" a guardsman shouted in warning. Javen glanced up to see several orange fireballs being lobbed through the air, and managed to cast a protective shield just in time. The fireballs struck the shield and dissipated, and his legs trembled at every blow. Maintaining the shield was draining his energy, but crowded such as they were upon the stairs left them open to air attacks.
"Retreat!" he called, sweat coursing down his forehead. "Controlled retreat – now!" The guards stepped back in perfect rhythm, just as they had been trained. Javen nearly stumbled on a step and the Abhorsen caught his arm. The Captain felt power flowing into him from the other man, and he was able to keep his feet and maintain the shield until they reached a landing.
Javen acknowledged the Abhorsen's help with a brief nod before throwing himself back into the battle. Now that they were on a level surface, the guardsmen held the high ground and were able to rain spells down on their attackers, who were spread over the steps below. "Three ranks, alternating sallies," ordered Javen, and the men stepped into formation. Under the constant barrage, the attackers retreated around the staircase until they were out of sight, and the guards paused to catch their breath.
"Steady," murmured Javen. He did not know what the attackers were planning, but he knew that they would not give up that easily. The silence stretched, but none of the guards had relaxed one bit.
Suddenly, a ball of blue flames came hurling around the corner, bouncing erratically off the narrow stone walls. Someone threw up a shield just in time, but the first ball of flames was followed by another, and then many more. They burned with an intense light, making them impossible to look at directly, and each individual shield could take only one or two hits before disintegrating.
"Charter, what is that stuff?" one of the guards panted, his shield having just been shattered to pieces.
Javen shook his head, unable to answer. "Who's the most powerful Charter Mage here?" he asked. When everyone stared at him, he realized how foolish the question had been. "Of course, Lord Abhorsen," he said, face flushing with embarrassment. "Could you stay at the back with me here, please?" He turned to his men. "I want seven guards to make a joint shield with the strongest as the caster. That would be Delvon, wouldn't it? Get to it."
The remaining guards maintained their individual shields as the seven men moved into position. At Javen's signal, six of the guards placed their hands on Delvon's back. The caster threw up his hands, and a wall of faintly greenish light flashed up before them, blocking the entire staircase. The guards all gathered behind Delvon, nervously fingering their weapons as they watched the fireballs strike against the shield, making it quiver.
Javen drew Cassiel up onto the stairs above the landing. "Lord Abhorsen," he said hurriedly, "I need a good spell that can go around corners."
The dark-haired man frowned. "Anything that I cast will break your shield."
Javen shrugged. "Then it will have to be big enough – and fast enough – that it doesn't matter." He glanced at the six mages around Delvon, and saw that a few of them had fallen to their knees, but were maintaining contact. "Better make it quick," he added.
Cassiel Abhorsen gave him a disbelieving stare, but Javen had already descended back onto the landing. The seven mages were all showing acute signs of strain; those who had not fallen over were now leaning against the walls. Only Delvon was standing straight, although his knees were shaking.
The shield began to flicker and a stray fireball got through. Nobody was hit, but Javen knew that they had very little time left. He leaned forward and placed his own hand on Delvon's shoulder, allowing a gush of power to flow out of him and into the Mage. Around him, the rest of the guards crowded close. Javen wondered idly what they must look like, a bunch of grown men crammed together on a narrow staircase, all straining to make contact with Delvon, even going so far as to lie on the ground to touch his ankle with a finger.
Javen's concentration started to falter, when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. There was a great whoosh of air overhead and something huge and bright crashed through the shield. The guards toppled over, released from the spell, and Javen looked up in time to see a great wash of white light circling the corner of the stairwell, absorbing the blue fireballs as it went along. He could hear cries of shock from the attackers, and smiled with grim satisfaction.
Without allowing himself any rest, Javen pulled himself to his feet, placing a hand against the wall for support. All of his guards were in similar shape, and beside him Delvon muttered, "If that didn't work I don't know what we'll do." Javen glanced back at the Abhorsen who looked just as weary as he felt, and silently agreed.
The young Captain's heart sank when he heard movement from around the corner. He took a deep breath, and raised his sword. "Well, men," he said bravely, "this is it. May you fight well." The guardsmen held their weapons at the ready, some still unable to stand.
"Now will you loose my collar?"
Javen turned, and made eye contact with the Abhorsen. Cassiel was looking very uncertain, and Javen knew that for the first time he was seriously considering his servant's offer. "What will happen if you do?" he asked.
Lord Abhorsen gestured helplessly. "He will take his Free Magic form. No telling what he'll do after that."
The Captain looked down at the dwarf, who was watching him with a hungry expression in his sharp green eyes. They were fast running out of options. Finally, he shrugged. "Well, I guess if you must–"
"Captain!"
Javen whirled around, but none of his guards had spoken. He suddenly recognized the voice that had called him and felt an enormous grin split his face. "Lieutenant Oscaer!" he shouted back. "Come on up – and mind the attackers on the steps."
There was some scattered laughter, and around the corner of the staircase came his Lieutenant leading a contingent of guards. Oscaer was smiling broadly and came to attention in front of Javen amidst the good-humoured chatter of the men. "Sir. We tried to hold the main staircase as you ordered, but we couldn't see in the dust and most of them got through. We managed to apprehend five of the men who had been disguised as servants. I've ordered an investigation to find out who let the attackers into the Watchwood. We believe that some of the guards were bribed, and suspects have already been apprehended. After securing the doorway we followed your trail, releasing the attackers that had been caught by protective spells along the way. Many of them were dead, but some we took alive. We had to shift the bodies all along the stairs to get by, and just managed to make it this far now."
"And good timing, too," admitted Javen. "What of the two leaders?"
"The Lord and Lady are lying on the steps a few feet away, quite dead sir."
The Captain made a quick assessment of his remaining forces. "Oscaer, you stay here with your men and secure the prisoners. Look to the ones on the steps. I'm not sure if whatever the Abhorsen cast was lethal, but they might be waking up any time." He was barely able to return the Lieutenant's salute; his arm felt like it weighed twice as much as usual.
Javen noticed that he was still holding his sword and sheathed it, turning to mount the steps. His guards followed doggedly at his heels, the Abhorsen and his dwarf among them. Removing the few protective spells that remained in their path, they eventually reached the large chamber at the top of the staircase.
Lieutenant Staunis brandished his sword before realizing who it was. The King raised his eyebrows at their appearance, but Javen did not have any time for that. "Prince Andromis, could you lend me a hand?" he called, crossing to the double doors of metal-studded wood. "On the count of three." Together they pushed the doors open.
It was like entering another world. Darkness was starting to fall outside, but they could hear distant music, singing, and laughter. The festivities were well underway in the Watchwood, a celebration of King Berillan's life. Every person froze to take in the moment. Javen caught Farelle's eye and they both smiled. Princess Sitri sniffed and wiped her eyes. The Abhorsen's servant peered around Javen's legs, and hissed softly.
"Well," said Javen eventually, breaking the spell. "We'd better move along."
They emerged into a clearing among the pines, and Javen heard quick steps behind them. He ignored his fatigue and half-drew his sword, only to recognize two guardsmen. "Sir," one of them panted, "Lieutenant Oscaer sends you this." The other guard handed Javen a heavy pendant on a chain. It was a cheap pewter copy of the gold medallion worn by the Chief Minister of Ancelstierre.
Javen knew that Tralusan's more extreme supporters had adopted it as their symbol. He thanked the guards, and showed the object to King Dantalion. The King frowned as he examined it, his children crowding closer for a look.
"Were they hired by Tralusan, do you think?" wondered Prince Andromis.
The King shook his head. "I doubt it. They were probably acting on their own, under the impression that they could set the Shining Ones free by killing the Bloodlines, or some such nonsense."
"Who were they?" murmured Princess Sitri, her blue eyes huge.
"Kingdom citizens," said Javen. "They had the Mark," he explained at their questioning stares, "and they were led by a man and woman of noble lineage. The others were disguised as their servants. The Lord and Lady were almost certainly members of the Anti-Wall network on this side of the Wall."
Farelle frowned. "I know that noble families have been secretly funding these groups and offering them protection – but to actively participate in an attack?"
"I guess these were extremists who were willing to take the chance," said Andromis, looking at the medallion with disgust.
The King fixed Javen with a stern glare. "Well, what has been done about it, Captain?"
The young man straightened unconsciously. "It appears that some of the guards were bribed to let the attackers into the Watchwood. An investigation is underway, and suspects have been apprehended. We have secured prisoners amongst the attackers, but several of them were killed by Holehallow's protective spells, as well as during our defensive stand. These include the Lord and Lady who we believe were the leaders."
King Dantalion gave him an evaluating stare, and frowned. "You should have taken them alive." Javen felt the injustice of the comment coming from his King. Wasn't this the man who had ordered the execution of all of the Freemen and their accomplices? And the Lord and Lady had been killed in self-defence on the steps. What was he supposed to do – sacrifice his men? But he said nothing.
"Have the captives interrogated," said the King. "As for the guards who let them into the Watchwood, their Charter Marks are to be burned from their foreheads, their titles stripped from them, and their property seized. They are banished forever from Belisaere."
Javen saluted, and King Dantalion turned away. The group headed through the pine plantation towards the larger clearing and distant music, following the lanterns that winked in the summer evening gloom. Farelle dropped to the back of the group to walk with Javen and took his hand in hers. The Watchwood was heavily warded with magic, and Javen and Farelle paused beside a Charter Stone, allowing the rest of the group to draw ahead. The Captain placed his hand on the rough surface, letting the power fill him and wash away his weariness.
His wife watched with a little grin. "I am very proud of you."
Javen pulled a wry face. "But your father isn't." He removed his hand from the Stone, feeling less fatigue now and more of a drowsy quietness.
"The only thing he could find wrong with your actions was that the leaders had not been captured. And you couldn't help that." Javen did not reply, and Farelle placed her hands on her hips. "Since when did you care more about what my father thinks of you than your own wife?"
"Well, your father is the King," Javen pointed out cheekily. "But you're right," he added hastily. "You're right."
"Of course I am." The Crown Princess of the Kingdom stifled a grin, and regally held out her hand. The Captain of the Royal Guard grasped it, and pressed a fervent kiss to her fingers. Javen would have liked to have done more – much more, in fact – but if they remained alone in the darkness people would become suspicious, notably a certain young lady's father. They both knew that the King was having them watched on a regular basis. His Majesty would never admit to it, of course, but the odd courtier, servant, or solider faithful to the King would sometimes just "happen" to witness something between them, and Javen would be called in to be reprimanded. It had been made clear to him that at the first instance of gross impropriety, Javen would find himself locked away in a dungeon with the key at the bottom of the Sea of Saere. And that included public displays of inappropriate levels of affection with the Crown Princess.
They made their solitary way through the wood, guided by lanterns hanging from the pine trees. The paper lanterns contained radiant Charter Marks which cast a yellow glow over all. Farelle paused at the edge of the clearing, and Javen remarked how her brown hair turned to golden waves.
"I love you," he whispered, so low that not even the King's sharpest-eared spy could overhear him.
She smiled. "I know."
A/N: Okay, we're back to putting explanatory notes at the end of the chapter! About my decision to make Holehallow many chambers: Sabriel counts only fourteen ships in the sinkhole where she finds Touchstone. This story takes place 2000 years before Sabriel, and the last King was 200 years before Sabriel, so there have been at least 1800 years of Kings and Queens. If each monarch ruled for about 30 years (Berillan ruled for 47, btw), there would be 60 ships. Divide that by fourteen, and we get at least four large chambers holding funerary ships. I made it seven to account for Kings and Queens before Berillan and after Touchstone.
The second big sinkhole that Javen takes them to is where Sabriel found Touchstone. The sharp-eyed among you might have noticed the bubbling spring. Also, the staircase that they fight on is the staircase Touchstone leads Sabriel up, after which they emerge in a clearing in the Watchwood. Sabriel senses that people have died on the staircase, and they have in this chapter, at least. Also, what might have tickled your memory is Javen and Andromis pushing open the doors on the count of three, like Sabriel and Touchstone did. Mogget is there, so that may be where he got the idea from. And if you remember, Sabriel could hear music and singing when the doors opened, and Mogget said, "I can see time." Perhaps he is remembering this particular episode, when the doors opened and the sounds from King Berillan's commemorative celebration reached his ears.
Reviews, as always, are most welcome!