Tales of Cobardon

Chapter IX

Sabrina

She entered the prince's chamber. The prince - Margh, sat beside a table angrily eyeing her. She coolly sat opposite the prince and whispered, " Why are you so angry?" The prince yelled," You killed my father!" "So what difference does it make to you ... and yes I killed your father, the man that you hated, the man that hated you, oppressed you and deprived you of your right to rule! I, Sabar, Lord of Morningstar, helped you, accept my friendship and you will be the king of Lopelanzec."

She smiled inwardly as she saw the stupid prince accept her male disguise. With that, she raised a boiler and filled a cup with a flourish. She couldn't help but notice the thin, crystal-clear leg on which an oval, with a delicately decorated depression designed with dark flowers, stood on. She carefully, without spilling any of the rich wine, offered the cup.

The prince hesitated for a moment but then his face cleared and he greedily took the cup and in one gulp emptied the glass.

The doors to the chamber's burst open and a richly dressed, gaunt man invaded. The prince protested, "You said you'd come alone: man to man. Yet..." She interrupted, explaining, "That's why there is a man." She pulled out the mask that hid her face, pulling from her chin, upwards. Next, she pulled out her wig and shook her head as her curls tumbled down. Then, announced, "I am no man. I am Sabrina, Lady of Morningshade. The lord lies in his grave and you will soon! Your father did teach you nothing."

The prince gasped just as he felt the poison act. He clawed his neck and moaned, pleading for help. "So much like Arthur. Lobar, let me compare." The man that had entered retrieved Arthur's head from a sack and tossed it to Sabrina. She held the head beside Margh's dying face and commented, smiling, "So alike, so foolish." She threw the head at Margh and marched out of the room.

As she crossed the passageway, a pang of guilt hit her. Her thoughts raced across her mind, "Need I be so ruthless, so brutal? Yes! For power is a thing that is difficult to attain, even more so for her in this bias, judging world. I have to be cold. But, was there no other way? No there wasn't! This is the only, torturous path that leads to my goal. Anyway, the difficult half is done. The younger one would be easier to deal with." Her monologue fell away when she stood outside the unadorned doorway, a complete opposite to Margh's door.

She entered the younger boy's chamber. Here was the difference between heaven and hell. The boy brimmed with confidence and control. He cut cut to the point, "I, Hapem, Lord of Lopelanzec, offer you my friendship and 20,000 swords. He offered a cup, jet black and not even reflecting a shadow. Sabrina eyed it suspiciously.

Hapem mockingly reassured, "Don't worry, it isn't poisoned." He said the last word with so much spite, it would have curdled milk.

"You are an ally worth having.", she drank the cup, cautiously. They discovered urgent affairs and then Hapem rose and inquired, "I ask your permission to leave. I have many duties to attend to now that I am Lord of Lopelanzec. I also have to have a few words." She dismissed him gleefully. What would a 10 year old boy do anyway, she reconciled herself.

What she didn't know was that the little boy's little words would change the course of the battle.

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Merisa

Thud! The gates fell open with a bellow. She repeated her commands in her head - 10000 archers, 1000 foot soldiers and a meager 300 strong cavalry.

She tried to peep down the foreboding , dank and dark staircase, which descended down. She could glance nothing. She shoved the burning torch, a citadel of light in this murky maze. The torch illuminated as far as the first step!

She, gathering courage, pressed her left leg gently down on the first step. A chilly cold reached her feet, penetrating layers of leather. A life-sucking, gloomy gust brushed across her face, cracking her skin.

A feeling of dread invaded her mind. Curiosity lured her ahead. She took another step, another step below below The Eye.

She braved herself ahead, comforting herself that the others were right behind her. She didn't look back in fear of being wrong and marched forward.

An hour had passed or was it two hours or four or a day or 10 minutes or a minute, she knew not. She tried to think how many step she had climbed down, a try as futile as the one before. She felt a constant chill in the air and the walls and in her soul. Yet, she marched into an unchanging, ever-descending staircase.

She knew nothing except for the fact that she now faced Crossroads or rather Cross-stairs. The right one lured and attracted her like it had from the first step. The left one felt just like normal stairs. She was pondered on which to travel.

When, suddenly, two glowering eyes flickered into existence. The eyes were blue with a tint of shifting green. There was something eccentric yet enchanting about it. She stared back. Suddenly, a realisation dawned on her, initiating from eyes and reaching her heart and soul. Losphel, Losphel! What has befallen me? The eyes that she stared into wanted death, murder, holocaust, carnage. She felt a shocking relation with it, as she gaped at it aghast. Her mind was made.

She scurried into the left staircase, which, surprisingly, ascended! For the first time she heard thousands of other scrambling feet behind.

Or was it just her feet echo?