Trik - Betrayal in Rule

Each day in the dark dungeon, a boy brought a piece of bread and a slice of mutton to the prisoners. Three days passed such, measured only by the dancing flame of the candle in the dim hallway. But on the third day, a different boy came with the food.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the boy. He stood at Trik’s cell with a tray of food in his hands.

Trik stepped out of the darkness, his hands still shackled behind his back. His eyes moved over the features of the young lad, his curly brown hair, his ruddy skin and gold eyes.

“I am the son of the Emperor,” said the boy, “his rightful heir.” He placed the tray of food on the floor beside the cell.

Trik’s eyes widened. “Your Highness,” said Trik. “What are you doing here?”

“My father is mad,” said the young prince. “Have you not heard?”

“Why should a prince of Rule visit a condemned criminal in his father’s dungeon?” asked Trik. “What do you know?”

The young prince glanced at Durben in the next cell, before once again turning his gaze to Trik. “I know enough,” he said. “I know that Baron Linden is a fair and honest lord, and that his son is innocent. I know that you are not a criminal. My father is under duress to keep the peace with Mortimer.” The prince cleared his throat. “I know that a time of great trials is approaching, and that Mortimer is exploiting it for his own purposes.”

“King Orodrin,” said Trik.

“Yes,” said the young prince, “I have heard he is preparing an army in the high mountains of his kingdom. He has not forgiven the Empire for its defense of Alaquonde.” The prince narrowed his eyes on Trik. “I know that it was you who defended the high walls. I have heard of your great deeds.”

Durben crept out of the shadows of his cell and approached the two in the candlelight. “My Lord Prince,” he said, “you should not be here.”

“Wrong,” said the young prince, turning to Durben. “It is you who should not be here. It is my father’s folly.”

“You are brave, My Prince,” said Trik, “but that will not be enough in the days to come. Mortimer wants the crown and any head that wears it.”

The young prince frowned. “And he has the support of some of my father’s court, whether they give it to him freely or not,” he said. “Some believe he will make peace. Even my father drinks his poisonous words.”

“What will you do?” asked Trik.

The young prince sighed. “I will free you and Lord Durben,” he said. He produced a black key from his pocket and held it up to Trik. His eyes grew fierce. “You must promise me that when you are free you will kill Mortimer.”

Trik stepped forward. “You have my word,” he said.

“And mine,” said Durben, his gray eyes glittering in the darkness.

The prince placed the key in the lock of Trik’s cell and turned it. The lock was released, and the iron door of the cell swung open. He walked down to Durben’s cell and used the same key to open his cell.

Trik and Durben stepped out of their cells.

“Your shackles,” said the young prince to Trik. Trik turned around. The prince worked on the lock of the shackles, until at last the shackles clicked open and fell to the floor.

“Even if we manage to get upstairs,” said Trik, “the palace guards will arrest us.”

“You must go through the sewers,” said the young prince. He glanced down at the sewer grating that covered the open drain beneath the hall. “It is a foul journey,” he said, “but it is the only way.”

Trik lifted the grating from the sewer drain. The passage was only large enough to crawl through, and there was sewage flowing in it. He stepped down into the drain.

“Lord Durben,” said Trik.

Durben was standing over the drain and pinching his nose. “This is no journey for a Lord,” he said.

“Is it not better than imprisonment?” asked Trik.

“Curse you, Trik,” said Durben. “If I live through this, I am going to get you back.”

“Hurry,” said the prince. “The guards will be back soon.”

Durben stepped into the drain and got onto his hands and knees. Trik crawled forward in the drain, and Durben followed him. Durben’s hands trembled as they touched the wet and foul-reeking floor of the drain. “I will vomit,” he said.

“Then vomit now and get it over with,” said Trik, crawling through the dark beneath the hall.

“Can you see anything?” asked Durben, crawling behind the elf.

“I see well enough,” said Trik, as he crawled.

They had not gotten far when there was a clank of iron as the young prince replaced the grating over the sewer drain. For a moment Trik halted, and Durben halted behind him. Trik sighed softly, and then he started crawling again, and Durben followed him.