Secret of the Sunstones, Part 1: The Wanton Kingdom

Chapter XXX : Traitor

Midday of Denuo, Third Day of Autumnmoon

Cedric finished counting the bricks on the eastern wall of his jail cell. Two thousand, five hundred, ninety-two. The exercise was pointless, to be sure, but it passed the time and was still better than wallowing in misery. He dozed from time to time, imagining the comfort of his own bed, but woke every few minutes, sweating profusely. The stuffy, overheated cell made it difficult to even breathe properly.

After Royals apprehended him in the Archives, they took him to the king’s magistrate, who delivered quick judgment. His charge: abetting a wanted criminal. They placed him in the local jail, where he would await sentence. Normally, Richard reviewed Angkor’s white collar crimes, thus giving the benefit of the doubt to his upper-class citizens. But, that didn’t necessarily mean exoneration. If the king deemed a man guilty, they were sent to the prison on the outskirts of Niedam to serve with ruffians, rapists, and murderers.

As expected, adjudication occurred based on the king’s availability, and Richard didn’t always make his judicial duties a priority. Prisoners sometimes stewed for days or weeks before receiving a pardon—or a sentence. Until then, Cedric had plenty of time to recount his actions … or to recount the bricks on the wall.

He should have spent his time planning a defense. If he was lucky, his lawyer would learn of his arrest and arrange for counsel. If granted, a bit of forward thinking on Cedric’s part would improve his chances. Unfortunately, his thoughts strayed to the woman for whom he risked everything.

Rosa might have broken some laws by entering the Archives, but the real villains were still out there, no doubt plotting their nefarious schemes. Cedric’s eyes wandered to the window in the adjacent cell, wondering where they might be hiding. If only he could explain things to Richard. He had a close history with his king, with years of trust and professional rapport. Richard had always proven himself wise and honorable. If it were possible for Cedric to alert him of the trickery of his subordinates, he knew the true conspirators would be brought to justice.

Yet, nothing could be done inside the lonely walls of his jail cell. It could take days or possibly weeks of insufferable waiting. Cedric closed his eyes, wondering how much torment he’d have to endure.

To his surprise, his musings were answered by a bustle at the door. Four Royals entered the jail, asking for him by name. The intake officer pointed to his cell, and the men marched over.

“Mister Curtis,” one of them stated coldly, “His Excellency requests an audience. You’re to be escorted to the palace immediately.”

Cedric clasped his hands together. At last, his chance had arrived!

Sadly, the trip to the palace wasn’t quite as he had hoped. His escort led him straight through the city, creating a humiliating spectacle. Onlookers gawked. Here was Angkor’s Innovator Extraordinaire, head hung in shame, face as red as a cherry. When he didn’t march fast enough, the point of a spear jabbed him from behind. Yet the pain was nothing compared to what he overheard, whispered among the crowd. Each step, agony.

It seemed to last a lifetime. By the end, he would have gladly taken a spear through the chest than endure another moment. The gawkers were driven away by the time he entered the palace, but the damage was done.

The Royals led him to a small conference room, one he hadn’t visited before. It measured only five spans on either side, barely enough room for the luxurious table and chairs made of walnut in the center. A brass chandelier with six burning candles hung overhead. On the table sat a goblet of red wine and a mug of clear liquid, presumably water.

He was commanded to sit and wait, and the Royals left. After the intolerable March of Shame, he deserved some relaxation. The ambiance set him at ease, so he reached for the goblet and downed it in a single gulp.

The room had no windows, and all four walls were covered with a strikingly intricate mural that depicted a great battle. The artwork was exquisite. Armies of soldiers fought against hordes of vicious creatures, apparently under the command of four great demons. The demons pointed with outstretched fingers, while their dark denizens emerged from clefts in the earth, racing for a confrontation with the human armies. A couple of placards at the bottom read, “The Great Omega War,” and, “The Four Ahrimen.”

Cedric was impressed by the detail. Footmen, archers, and scholars marched toward an inevitable confrontation. Sea vessels sailed on towering waves, and men rode upon strange, winged creatures. The painter left the scene open-ended; a moment, frozen in time, before either side had an opportunity to strike. It gave him the impression that blood would flow the instant the image unfroze.

Cedric emptied the remaining drops of wine onto his tongue. It had delicate hints of citrus and berries and a refreshing, peppery aftertaste. It was delicious. Arching his back, he heard the pop of aligned vertebrae. He sunk into the nearest chair, expelling a breath that had waited all day to be released.

Barely a moment passed before a Royal burst into the room.

“Rise,” the man commanded.

Cedric was startled. He hastily returned the goblet to the table and stood up straight. He crisscrossed his arms on his chest and bowed his head, the customary salute of Angkor. A second Royal entered and took his place on the opposite side of the door.

“His Majesty, King of Angkor, Richard Cromwell, enters the room,” he announced, welcoming the king in all his splendor. A third Royal followed, cramping an already small chamber.

Richard strode inside, greeting the Craftsman like an old friend. “Mister Curtis, it is good to see you.”

“My Liege.” Cedric genuflected, albeit clumsily in the limited floor space.

Richard snapped his fingers. The Royals bowed gracefully and left. After the door shut, the king gestured toward the nearest chair.

“Sit.”

Cedric nearly tripped as he backed into it. “Your Majesty,” he bowed again before sinking into the plush cushion.

Richard cut to the chase. “You’ve been a faithful servant for many years, isn’t that right, Mister Curtis? How long has it been?”

“Ma-more than fifteen years, Sire.”

He smiled. “That’s why I trust you. You’ve served your kingdom loyally all this time.”

He walked behind Cedric’s chair and placed his regal hands upon the Craftsman’s shoulders. Under other circumstances, it might have been a commanding if not comforting gesture. But in the moment, it unnerved Cedric to the point of a cold sweat.

“What I’m about to divulge is sensitive information, and it shall not be repeated outside this room.”

Cedric nodded, unable to move. “Yes, My Lord.”

Richard breathed in deeply and held it. Cedric waited, also with bated breath.

He let it out. “My Knights have discovered that our neighbors to the north are plotting against us.” He tightened his grip, holding Cedric’s shoulders firmly in place. His thumbs pressed the flesh between the blades, driving the Craftsman deeper into the cushions.

He continued. “Five of my Gnostics remained loyal. The sixth, a turncoat.”

Cedric gasped. “Your Majesty—”

“You know of whom I speak, Mister Curtis?”

“Yes!” The Craftsman was eager to tell. “I witnessed this Gnostic Knight conspiring with your chancellor, Mister Garvey. They were in the hangar, the previous night. I’ve been wanting to tell you!”

Richard released his grip and swiveled to Cedric’s side. “No, Mister Curtis. You have it backward.”

Cedric blinked. “Backward, My Lord?”

“Indeed,” Richard confirmed. “The traitor is Abraham Morrison. He’s been colluding with Kitezh behind our backs, and I fear the damage is most extensive.”

Cedric was shocked. The revelation turned his notions upside down. “What? It can’t be! I’m certain—”

The king held up an index finger, enough to capture Cedric’s attention. “Hear me out. Once you listen to the full explanation, I’ll let you to draw your own conclusions.”

Cedric nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Richard looked pleased. He took a seat on the opposite end of the table, leaning forward. “I understand you were apprehended in the Archives by my Royal Guard. You were assisting the sorceress, Rosalyn Reynolds.”

A shiver ran up Cedric’s spine.

The king must have noticed. “First, let me alleviate your concerns. I’m not here to prosecute you or Miss Reynolds. In fact, we believe she’s unaware of her lover’s betrayal. More accurately, we believe Sir Morrison tricked her into cooperating. So I’m afraid you’ll need to remain skeptical of anything she might have told you.”

Cedric nodded slowly, trying to sort the new facts against what he knew previously. “I will of course keep an open mind, Sire, but what of Mister Garvey and the Gnostic? Are you telling me they weren’t conspiring to take control of the Zounds prototype? Or of harming Miss Reynolds? Or of initiating war with Kitezh?”

Richard shook his head and chuckled. “No, I assure you, it’s all a misunderstanding. Although, I can see how you could have perceived it otherwise.”

The king held out his right hand. “Let’s take Miss Reynolds, for example. Naturally, my allies needed to stop her from unknowingly assisting Mister Morrison with his plot.” He then held out his left. “As for war with Kitezh, it’s merely an inevitability. One which requires no provocation from us. Rather, we expect our neighbors to declare war shortly, based on knowledge leaked by Sir Morrison.”

Cedric leaned forward, eager to hear the details.

“Miss Reynolds told you of the sunstones’ powers, did she not?”

Cedric nodded. “Yes, but I confess … I know so little of magic. I was told they could grant a layman unfathomable powers.”

Richard’s expression grew somber. “Indeed. The same holds true in the hands of our enemy.”

“You mean Kitezh?”

“That’s right.” Richard leaned back in his chair. “They have their own sunstone, you know. But, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”

Cedric made himself comfortable while Richard explained.

“A couple of weeks ago, Mister Garvey came to me with an important discovery. It was an old document—a journal—from a man that many had presumed dead. His name is Maurice Vance, a renowned sorcerer and historian. When he disappeared, the scholar community naturally assumed that his work had vanished with him. In actuality, it had mixed with papers of lesser importance and was taken to our Archives. Inside these journals, we learned of the forbidden research performed by Vance—in secret—on the sunstone of Vineta.”

Cedric remembered the tomes that Rosa was researching, but he hadn’t paid attention to the details. “What kind of research?”

Richard leaned forward. “Dark experiments. The kind that summon powers from forgotten ages. He must have figured that even old legends held grains of truth, even ones that told of goddesses handing down divine relics to mankind. Turns out, he was right, but not in the way everyone thought. The sunstones do contain power, Mister Curtis, but not from any goddess. No one realized this until Mister Garvey read the journals.”

“What happened to Mister Vance?” Cedric asked.

“We suspect the Circle of Eight are responsible, and they did it to cover up Vance’s discoveries.”

Richard referred to the sorcerers that ruled over Vineta. Even though the nation had its own queen, it was common knowledge that the Circle held true control.

“But, why?”

The king glared. “Because, surely, Mister Curtis, they understood the consequences of this knowledge falling into the wrong hands! The sunstones contain powers far beyond the realm of mankind. I realized right away that if our enemies unlocked these secrets before us, we in Angkor would be powerless to defend ourselves.”

Cedric found himself wringing his hands, nervously. He placed them on the table to keep them steady. “I suppose that’s why you sent Mister Garvey to retrieve the sunstone from Minoa.”

Richard nodded. “It was for our own protection. At least, initially. I chose Minoa because it was discreet. I didn’t want the world to know we were going after a sunstone. The mission was intended to be done under the strictest security measures. Sadly, it took only days for information to leak. Kitezh now knows what we’ve discovered; and worse, they are close to unlocking the power of their own sunstone.”

Cedric gasped. The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling in place. “You mean, Sir Morrison took his knowledge of the mission straight to the enemy?”

Richard lowered his head. “I’m afraid it’s true. I would have never suspected him of defection. It’s fortunate that Mister Garvey discovered his secret communications to the Kitezhian capital, or we’d still be unaware.”

Cedric’s mouth hung open, amazed that his initial misgivings about Bram had been right all along. The treachery was outrageous. “Your Majesty, how could you not have arrested Sir Morrison on the spot? Why allow him to leave the country?”

Richard raised his brows. “You pose the right questions, Mister Curtis, but the answer is simple: I had to know if Sir Morrison had help from anyone on the inside. If I had exposed him right away, any accomplices would have fled the country, or possibly signaled his capture to the enemy. Instead, I developed a ruse. As far as Sir Morrison knew, I was sending him on a mission to Kitezh—naturally, a destination he already desired. However, I planned a detour into the Ur Mountains, where we could detain and interrogate him in secret.”

“Ahh ….” Cedric now understood what the Gnostic Knight had meant, back in the hangar. Things were starting to make sense. “This must also be why you ordered the lockdown at the capital, wasn’t it?”

Richard looked pleased. “It was important that I notify government employees of impending war. There is much work to do if we are to stop what Sir Morrison put in motion. Unfortunately ….” He sighed. “We seem to have lost contact.”

“What?” Cedric couldn’t believe it. “Lost contact? How?”

The king shook his head. “I suppose you haven’t heard, since you were detained.”

Cedric’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

Richard expelled a sizable breath. “It’s quite tragic, really. Due to an unexpected geological event, a sizable section of the Ur Mountains was destroyed in a series of violent quakes and eruptions. In the chaos, we’ve lost all trace of Sir Morrison.”

“Dear Gaia,” Cedric breathed. The chain of events was mind-boggling. “Is he … presumed dead?”

Richard paced the small space at the end of the room. “We haven’t confirmed. However, he is one of my most accomplished Knights, so it would be foolhardy to assume anything without proof. If Sir Morrison did make it out alive, there’d be only one place he’d go.”

“To Rungholt!” It was obvious to Cedric that Bram would go to the Kitezhian capital to reconvene with the enemy.

“Precisely,” Richard responded. “In either case, we also have reason to fear that Miss Reynolds might continue his crusade for him.”

Cedric’s heart sank at hearing Rosa implicated. “Your Majesty, I don’t think Miss Reynolds would knowingly betray her country. Surely, we can reach out and warn her before she does anything … irreversible.”

“How would you propose we do that?” Richard challenged. “Miss Reynolds has already fled from Angkor, and we have no means of reaching her. Who knows what Sir Morrison might have told her? Based on your conversations, do you doubt her determination to carry out Sir Morrison’s wishes?”

Cedric sunk into his chair, at a loss. Rosa’s trust in Bram was absolute. She almost had Cedric convinced as well. There was no doubt she’d do whatever it took to help Bram. The Craftsman felt like a fool.

“Well, Mister Curtis?”

He couldn’t deny it. His head hung shamefully. “I believe she’ll do what Sir Morrison has asked.”

Richard sighed, his eyes conveying sympathy. “As do I.”

Cedric buried his face in his hands. “I beg forgiveness, Sire. Please … if there’s anything I can do to make this right.”

Richard reached out to pat him on the arm. It was much gentler and less intimidating than the grip on his shoulders, moments earlier. “Be at ease, Mister Curtis. I certainly don’t hold you accountable. In fact, I believe there is something you can provide that would be of invaluable aid to our kingdom.”

“Anything, My Lord!”

Richard stood tall in front of him. “Let’s go back to what you saw at the hangar. Mister Garvey and my other Gnostic have offered something they think can stand against the might of a sunstone. I truly hope we’ll never need to deploy this option. But, if war should break between Angkor and Kitezh, we’ll need your Zounds to defend our country. That is, if you can get it operational.”

Cedric was delighted. This was his chance to be Angkor’s savior. “Yes, Your Majesty! I won’t let you down!”

Richard looked relieved. “Thank you, Mister Curtis. Angkor is once again in your debt.”

The Craftsman beamed. The king walked him back to the main hall of the palace, where he met with the Royals. He cleared Cedric of all charges and sent him on his way. Within minutes, he was led to the courtyard, as if the last few days had never happened.

All that remained was the lonely walk back to his mansion. Cedric was exhausted, but also overwhelmed by all that Richard had told him. He wished he could reach out to Rosa to steer her from her path, but there was nothing he could do. As of tomorrow, he would return to his workshop and continue his design. He owed it to his country to make up for lost time.