Quest for Knowledge (Volume 1 of the FirstWorld Saga) - Christopher Jackson-Ash (black female authors .txt) 📗

room, where she must hold the Sword. It will call me and help me to find it. We will give the guards a chance to stand down or join us. There will be no killing unless absolutely necessary and in self-defence. Is that clear?”

Taran and Dawit stared at Simon, open-mouthed. Jhamed laughed. “The Hero has arrived. Not before time, I might add. We are at your command, my lord.”

Simon wasn’t sure whether Jhamed spoke earnestly or was poking fun at him. He stepped into the portal, taking the lead for the first time. The now familiar stench of fouled humanity assailed his nostrils immediately. The pitiful sights of the dungeon disturbed his vision soon afterwards. Nothing much had changed in the dungeons of Dishley. Amongst the whimpers and moans of the residents, he heard strong cursing from Dawit and Taran, who had been unprepared for the experience.

“What hell hole have you brought me to?” Taran demanded as the tide of human effluent retreated from their unexpected presence.

“Animals deserve better than this,” Dawit spluttered, trying to avoid breathing too deeply. A rat ran across the floor in front of him and twenty pairs of hands tried to grab it. It eluded their grasp; it wouldn’t be dinner tonight.

“You’ll get used to it,” Simon told them. He grabbed the nearest wretch of a man and looked down at him, square in the eyes. “Where is Juliana? Do you know who I mean?”

“Yes, my lord.” The man straightened himself and stood upright. There was still a hint of human pride in his bearing. When he spoke again, there was a hint of hope and excitement in his voice. “I was here when you dealt with Dring. Have you come back to free us? Has the time finally come?”

Simon immediately regretted his initial harsh questioning. He smiled at the man and spoke in a kindly tone. “Yes, my friend. The time has finally come. Say nothing to anyone yet, but find Juliana and bring her here. Tell her that Si Si Simon has returned and she will trust you. Can I trust you?”

Unexpectedly, the man grinned, showing a mouth full of black teeth. “You can trust me, my lord. I offer you everything I have, which is only my life. I will do as you instruct.” He backed away, bowing, and then turned and hurried off, pushing and elbowing past the shattered wrecks of men and women who were in his way.

Taran and Dawit drew their weapons and established a perimeter, with the smooth wall of the cave at their backs. They cleared enough room so that Simon and Jhamed had space to stack their packs and sit down on the sandy floor to wait. Their arrival had generated enormous interest and a crowd gathered. People pushed and jostled to get to the front. Eyes were gouged and brittle bones were broken in the crush. Dawit had to threaten them with his axe to get them to stand back. He scratched a line in the sand with his foot. “Cross this line and you shall feel the mercy of my axe on your wretched skulls! Stay behind the line and you shall be freed this day.” The crowd eyed his axe and chattered nervously. Everyone stayed behind the line.

Simon was lost in his thoughts. The dungeon and the people seemed to be in a mist. Everything was a blur. He vaguely heard Dawit’s orders to the crowd. His focus though was in his mind. He was close to the Sword now and it was aware of him. It filled his mind with images. There was so much information that Simon could only grasp snatches of it. He saw a great warrior. There was a huge battle, with much death and bloodshed. He felt warm, bloated, and happy. Another figure was there, he was dark and cowled. They fought. Now the dark figure held a still-beating heart in his hand and he threw back his head and laughed. Simon saw his face. Even though he laughed, it was expressionless. It was pure white, unmarked by beard or blemish, by eyebrow or lash. The eyes were black as coal and showed no emotion. There was coldness in those eyes, colder than the heart of a glacier. Then Simon felt absolute coldness and saw the actual heart of a glacier, and even though it chilled him to the marrow it was like a blacksmith’s furnace compared with those eyes. He felt a momentary flash of hope as he saw the faces of humans, only to be dashed to despair when he saw the face of a hideous crone, with hooked nose and rotten teeth who cackled and mocked. He felt hope renewed and he knew he was the bearer of that hope. Come for me. I am ready. Together we shall be invincible. I am so weak . I must feed soon. Simon shivered with cold and felt so weak that, had he not been sitting down, he would surely have collapsed. The crowd buzzed and jostled, but they were but vague murmurs and shadows in the fog. He didn’t know how he could go on. He couldn’t even stand up.

The fog parted. The crowd and his friends remained hidden in the mist. Yet, out of the fog, a figure walked, clear as on a sunny day. She was the most beautiful girl that he had ever set his eyes upon. She was tall and slim, with a tiny waist and small breasts that were falling out of a simple red gown. It had once been a beautiful dress, but now it hung in rags. Her hair was long, straight, and jet-black. When he had last seen her, it had been clean and perfumed. Now it hung in lank, greasy strands. It still framed an elfin face of such pure beauty that it made his heart lurch. Her eyes were the purest blue, shining like jewels against the milky whiteness of her skin – still evident even amongst the brown stains. Her lips were still voluptuous, despite their lack of rouge and the dry cracks that crossed them. Around her neck, she wore a simple necklace with a small silver locket, that he knew contained a lock of Manfred’s hair. Simon’s heart lurched. He felt such love and joy as he had never known before. The fog cleared and he jumped to his feet and took Juliana in his arms. He held her tightly as if he never wanted to let go. “I have come back for you.” He sobbed into her hair. No! You have come back for me! She is nothing. We are the Trinity. Simon could not understand why he felt a sudden pang of jealousy.

There was a new confidence about Simon. He didn’t know where it had come from, but he liked the feeling. Taran and Dawit seemed to treat him with much more respect. Jhamed was still Jhamed, but he seemed to be happy about it. Juliana melted into his arms. He liked that feeling. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but decided that must wait until later. He stood tall and addressed the crowd. “My friends; please listen to me. I am Simon the Red.” Where the hell did that come from? I like it! “My friends and I have come to free you and release you from the yoke of the Witch Queen. Will you help us?” For a brief moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Just as Simon was beginning to worry, he was overwhelmed by a cacophony of sound. The crowd yelled and screamed its support. It took all of his effort to quieten them again.

“We must do this with the minimum of violence. We will try to convince the guards not to fight us. When you are released, head away from the jail. Stay hidden until we have dealt with Freda.” The crowd seemed shocked to hear the name uttered without reverence or title. Simon had just committed a blasphemy punishable by death. “When I give the word, you must create a disturbance to distract the guards while we deal with the gate. Stay silent until then. May the Balance be with you and may your future repay the debt that is owed for such inhumane treatment.”

He checked with Dawit, Taran, and Jhamed that they knew their roles. He couldn’t afford to delay the crowd for too long. He whispered to Juliana. “Can you guide me to Freda’s treasure room?” She nodded and kissed him on the cheek. Simon blushed, but it felt so good. Come for me! The voice in his head was urgent. I am coming, be patient. “Let’s go!” He shouted and the crowd surged forward.

The next few minutes were a chaotic scramble. The crowd surged to one end of the open bars that separated the dungeon from the outside world. There they began to make mayhem that brought the four guards on duty to find out what was going on. Meanwhile, Dawit managed to place a charge in the lock of the rusty gate. The explosion took out the gate as well as the lock and sent many of the crowd sprawling as well as the four guards. By the time the guards had regained their feet they were confronted by an elf with a sword and a dwarf with an axe, who offered them surrender or death. They obviously liked their odds because they chose to fight. Unfortunately for them, they seriously misjudged their opponents and their mistake proved fatal. Two died from stab wounds to the heart. Two were decapitated by a dwarven axe. Simon, weaponless as he was, led the group up a long, sloping corridor towards the surface. The crowd jostled behind them, eager to taste freedom. They were confronted by another locked iron gate and a roomful of soldiers beyond.

The Captain of the Guard stepped forward. “Return to your dungeon immediately and you will be allowed to live. Hesitate for but an instant and you will all die.” He had a loud commanding voice that spoke of long experience and demanded respect.

“I am Simon the Red. I have come to claim what is rightfully mine. I intend to rid your kingdom of the evil witch Freda. Lay down your arms, open this gate and let us pass without hindrance and you will be allowed to live. Hesitate for but an instant and you will all die.” Simon barely recognised his own voice. It commanded obedience and absolute respect.

The Captain of the Guard stepped forward until he was touching the bars. He stared into Simon’s eyes and there was unspoken communication. “You realise that no matter how good a group of fighters you are, I have the numbers to defeat you. Your death would be certain. However, I am old enough to remember the time before She came. If you indeed have the power to do as you say, it will be the greatest thing ever to happen to Dishley. I read something in your eyes that, against my better judgement, tells me to believe you.” He turned to his men. “Lay down your arms and let them pass.” There were a few grumbles, but he had their obedience. He unlocked the gate, drew his sword, and laid it at Simon’s feet. “I am your servant, my lord. Be successful or I will be inside the dungeon; if I’m lucky enough to live.”

Simon picked up the sword. “Stay here and make sure these men don’t raise the alarm.” His orders were directed at Jhamed, Taran and Dawit. “Juliana, come with me. We won’t be long. Whatever happens, do not come looking for us. We will see you when this is over.” Simon and Juliana hurried away.

The crowd of escaping prisoners followed them, the lures of freedom, food, and a wash pulling them like an angler’s fly attracts a hungry trout. Only one man remained; the one who had sought out Juliana. “If