Ageless

Chapter 40

Victor was waiting for us at the entrance to the dungeons, twirling his long spear between his palms. He waved as I approached, his expression never breaking from that of grave acknowledgment. Quickhand was not much of smiler.

I had seen the former guitarist sparing out in the practice yard, his slender spear whirling around his body like an extension of his arm with unrivaled grace and dexterity. I had never seen him lose a duel in all my time staying at the palace. Hendrik had revealed that Victor's family background was strongly tied to the military, and his father was the former master of arms for the Harangue Family, a prominent house residing in the Nameless City. Eventually Victor had broken family tradition and set out for the city college with dreams of becoming a musician, estranging himself from his family in the process.

The life of a soldier may not have been Quickhand's true calling, but he never forgot his father's lessons. To this day, it was said he remained as proficient with just as many deadly weapons as he was with musical instruments. His propensity for both music and violence had been the reason that Hendrik had partnered him, during his initial rise to fame as a musician. Hendrik had originally set out to hire both a back-up guitarist and a bodyguard, but Victor was the only man to apply for both openings. Hendrik had hired him on the spot and killed two birds with one stone, saving a lot of money in the process. "Though that never stopped Victor from constantly asking for double the salary," he told me once, with a smile.

As for Hendrik's own combative abilities...he often described himself as having "two off-hands" when it came to wielding a sword.

"You know why Alexander wants to see me?" I asked Victor when I was within earshot.

"Wouldn't say," the tall man answered. "Just said he has a present for the Queen."

I gulped. I had not known Chief Alexander for a long, but I was almost certain that our definitions of a present varied quite a bit. "Stay close to me," I whispered. "Can't stand it down here."

The dungeons ceiling was riddled with leaks, and as we made our way down the only thing we could hear besides our own footsteps was the steady drip of water on stone. The place stank of mildew, and the torches lighting the corridor were far and few between, leaving patches of darkness for us to feel our way through. Once and a while we would a pass a cell, most of them empty, but every now and then I would catch sad, gaunt faces in the light and my heart would jump. As we turned another corner and wandered further into the depths, I instinctively looped an arm around Hendrik or Victor - which ever man was closer at the moment – in the darkness I could not tell one from the other.

After making our way through a row of maximum security cells with solid steel doors, a cluser tof three figures could be out in the center of the hall, one of them holding up a torch.

"Who goes there?" I heard the voice of the Shepherd Chief call out from the far end of the hall, scratchy and rough like he had been gargling gravel.

"Your Queen," Hendrik answered. Immediately there was a hiss of whispers from the cells surrounding us, and there was a rustle as prisoners began to peak out from cracks in the stone. "Who else?"

Drexel was garbed in the Shepherd uniform: polished armor the color of white ivory, fringed with gold leaf. There was large maroon badge pinned to his right breast, denoting his captain status. He was flanked by two other soldiers with similar uniforms, except their armor was not embroidered in gold leaf and they did not have badges.

The pristine white armor clashed horribly with his beet red face. He looked like a lobster poking his head out of a snowbank.

He gave a curt bow. "Your Holiness," he said, turning on his heel before lifting his head and disappearing into the void of darkness a few feet beyond us. "Thank you for coming. Please follow me this way."