Prophecy Of Kings: Volume 1 ✔️

Chapter 21 - Return

The morning air was filled with crisp anticipation. Prince Edward perched on the edge of a bench in the great hall, as he watched a maid stack and light one of the many fires that littered the room. He perked up as he heard the echo of hurried footsteps louden as they approached the doors of the hall. Finally, some news?

A messenger burst through the threshold and straightened his robes as he gasped for air. "Prince Edward. I bring news from your father."

"Your presence brings warmth to my heart, Thomas. I have not heard from my father since he conqured Dunalastair Castle two weeks ago. Please, go ahead."

"Thank you, Your Royal Highness," said the messenger with a respectful bow. "I regret to inform you that it is not good news, the Knight Commander, Firmin disappeared on the night of the battle along with the child of the Lynx Chief. He is being blamed for the death of both Kerr's sons."

Edward slumped backwards onto the bench; the scarlet in his cheeks had drained, leaving only a ghastly white. "Firmin? I have trained under him since I was a child. He is a man of noble and virtous character, and above all, loyal to his King. Surely there has been a mistake?"

"I'm afraid not. Kerr and his men have tracked the Knight and the child's scent travelling together, they are heading South."

"Has anyone managed to talk with him? There must be an explenation for all of this?" He said, running his fingers through his thick, ginger hair.

"I do not have the answers you are looking for..."

I must meet with him. Oh Firmin, what have you done?

"His Imperial Majesty, the King, has demanded that you ride North to ensure that the Commander is apprehended, and trialled for his accused treason."

Standing to his feet, Edward cleared his throat and steadied his hand. "Send word to my men, have them ready to depart in the early hours of tomorrow."

"Yes, your majesty," said Thomas, bowing once more as he turned to deliver his message.

"Oh and Thomas, ensure Lord Stephenson knows of our departure. I refuse to speak with that man any more than I have to."

With a swift nod, the messenger darted out of the room, leaving Edward with a flurry of confusing thoughts and an army of unanswered questions. Why has Father refrained from telling me about this till now? Firmin has been missing for weeks. Where on God's earth are you heading to, my friend...

*****

As twilight began to steal the last remaining light that the day had brought, Firmin and Rupert knelt behind the great oak that marked the final resting place of baby Mhari. From their elevated vantage point, they could see the wandering torchlight of the guards patrolling the battlement.

"So this is it pal?"

Firmin's gaze was fixed upon the castle, his mind focused on the one he loved. "Stay here, I need you ready to ride incase things get loud in there."

"Ye'll need a hand, nae chance ye'll make it on yer own?"

"There are hundreds of soliders in that keep, whether we are one or two, we don't stand a chance. Our only option is to get in undetected, and let's be honest, your not exactly subtle are you?" Firmin put a hand on Rupert's shoulder as they shared a last lowly chuckle.

"Aye, that's true, but how're ye gan to get past the guards? The drawbridge is up, and yer nae climbing those walls, seein' ye climb a hill was painful enough."

"When I was last here, I checked the castle over incase of such eventuality. In the servants quarters, theres a drain that flows into the moat, if the water level is low enough I might..."

Firmin stood, readying himself for what was ahead. Fastening the belt that held his kilt tightly, he turned to Rupert, "how do I look?"

"As stong as any MacBean av ever met! And as daft as one as well." The pair exchanged a firm embrace before Firmin turned to face his destiny.

"I look forward te meeting her."

I'm coming for you Barabel. I made you a promise.

Firmin crouched as small as possible as he neared the castle moat. His eyes alternated between the battlement above, and the dimly lit ground underfoot as he carefully made his way to the waters edge. A jolt of paralysing pain washed upwards from his feet as he slipped into the frigid water, the weight of his sodden kilt wanting to pull him down into the depths below. Tensed muscles refused to co-operate as he swam to the foot of the castle's wall. Should be around here, thought his numbed mind, as he felt under the water for the opening of the drain; each time his hand met a solid wall; each time a stinging pain shot through his hand as it came into contact with the rough, frozen stone. So far, he had gone unnoticed; the night watchmen above would be looking out for invading armies, or skirmishes of a Scottish clan: not a single man. Finally, his hand disappeared, as the opening of the drain revealed itself.

The pipe was only the width of a man, and at best, he would have to take a gamble. A massive one at that. It was too dark to get a feel for the depth of the water against the castle wall, and once he clambered into the pipe he would only be able to move forward. He guessed that the water would only be half way up the pipe, but it was only a guess. His vision began to cloud over, and he began to feel warm as the icy water tried to steal his consciousness; time was running out. Taking a deep breath, he plunged under the water, entering the pipe. As soon as he entered, any semblance of light had vanished, and all he could feel were the slimy walls as his fingers desperately clawed to propel him forward.

Panic set in as Firmin's body screamed for breath. The water was not relenting and going back now was not an option. He felt his diagram spasm as he choked down the urge to inhale. I'm not going to make it. Barabel, I'm sorry...

Suddenly, his fingers found a pocket of air moments before death. Thrusting his head upwards, he was able to take the breath he so desperately desired; gulping the stale air like a starved dog at a spilled supper. Composing himself, he strained upwards, sighing at the relief of a dim source of light. Forcing open the heavy metal grate that blocked his exit, he clambered out of the pipe and collapsed in a heap on the stone floor.

"Firmin?" Spoke a high pitched voice. "What the bloody hell are ye doing here?" Opening his eyes, Firmin could see the wide stare of Seonag as she fell to her knees beside him.

"Seonag?"

Tears rolled down her cheek as she comforted the exhausted Knight. "I hardly expected to see ye again, but I never thought ye'd be coming up fae the sewer. Ye know there's a gate?"

Firmin spluttered as he sat up from the harsh ground. "Barabel..." He coughed as he expelled the murky water from his lungs. "Barabel, where is she?"

Seonag sat silently, slowly releasing her grip on Firmin's hand. "Please, where is..." He noticed the bruising that bloomed from her eye-socket as she turned her head away from him.

"Have ye come to rescue us?"

His heart sank to his feet with the weight of a thousand guilt-ridden memories. "No."

Tears swelled from within her, but the vacant look in her tired eyes suggested she already knew the answer.

"Yer here for her. Only her."

"Seonag, I need your help. Do you know where Barabel is?"

She recoiled away, pushing her back against the wall as she stood to her feet. "I broke my promise to ye. I told ye I would look out for her..."

The pain hit him as though he had been run through with a sword. Please Lord, tell me she is alive...