The Bard of Xalir (Complete!)/The Archer of Adelbern (Complete)/Book 3 (Coming Soon)

After my last adventure, Gunner was imprisoned by the harska's new king, Bagheera. That was where he was supposed to spend the rest of his days. Fate had other plans for him. Trafford, the same man who offered Gunner the crown, purchased the former king from his own people. That is how Gunner found himself in the royal dungeons, looking at me with pure joy on his cat-like face.

"Are you really coming to me for help?" he asked.

"You help me escape, and I'll let you go free."

"And what if I don't want to be free?" asked Gunner. "My people traded me for their survival. By remaining here, they will not experience starvation."

"You think Trafford will honor that deal forever?" I asked. "Do you really trust him?"

He narrowed his eyes. "How can I trust you? You've already betrayed me once before."

Trafford and Thrig weren't far behind, I was sure of it. While I couldn't see them, I could hear shouting as Trafford rallied the royal guards to action. There wasn't any time to argue nor did we have much time to make a solid plan. Thanks to my use of the song of strength, I also didn't have much time to escape.

"If you won't help me, then help yourself. All I'm asking you to do is deal with the guards."

Gunner peered down the hallways, his ears flicking at the air as he tried to listen for the guards. He turned to me with a serious expression on his face. "Swear on your daughter's life."

I reached toward him, then hesitated. Part of me didn't want to keep my word. Working for Gunner had been the worst days of my life. He was a monster. The very thought of him twisted my stomach into knots. He extended his hand. It hovered in front of me, waiting. I ignored my gut feeling.

"On Arienne's life," I said, accepting his hand into mine. "If you help me I will let you go free."

He nodded slowly. "I trust you."

As soon as he finished speaking, he shot out of the room. Claws like iron, fur like steel, he was a one-man army. I couldn't stand around and wait. He was the distraction, I still had to escape. After checking the hallway, I hurried down the endless maze of cells and prisoners—right into the guards. There were three of them, stunned by my sudden appearance.

Thanks to the song of strength, I was able to react a bit faster than they could. I pushed past them, knocking two of them to the floor and the last one against the wall. I zipped down the hallway before they could recover.

The last time I came to the royal dungeons, I made a mental map of the way to Gunner's cell. Unfortunately for me, Trafford and Thrig were blocking the entrance. Assuming they hadn't chased after me, of course. There had to be some alternative path or maybe a secret doorway—some way to get into the dungeons without going through the garden.

Sounds of a struggle echoed throughout the halls. The cries of the remaining prisoners added to the discordant chorus. They begged me to save them as I ran past, but I didn't stop for a second. Maybe some of them were worth saving, but I had no idea why they were in jail. They could be murderers or worse.

As I rounded another corner, dodging another set of guards, I wished I still had my mandolin. Without it, I could still use some magic, but it was comforting to have my instrument. Like having a piece of home that you always take with you. A familiar weight that keeps you grounded in reality.

A thought occurred to me: the sacred grove. Greenspring had taken me there so I could receive my new mandolin. Like the magic dwelling within his wolf totem, the sacred grove was the source of his powers. If the mandolin was like the totem, it was possible I could use the pieces of the instrument to tap into the grove's power.

I didn't need much, just enough to communicate with him in some way. Greenspring had used similar magic to communicate with me under the Sapphire Mountains. Would it work now?

Taking a deep breath, I turned around and slammed my way past the guards. One of them grabbed my shirt, ripping off a piece as I pulled away from their grasp. In the distance, I could hear the sounds of another group of guards dealing with Gunner. Calls for reinforcements rang through my ears. Hopefully, they wouldn't come before I could reach my cell.

After a minute of running, I made it back to where I started. Trafford and Thrig were nowhere to be seen, but I didn't relax yet. There was still a chance they were close by. The broken pieces of my mandolin were still lying on the floor of my cell. Shattered in half, there was no way it could ever play music again.

I gathered up as much of the remains as I could. Already I could feel the effect of the song of strength diminishing. There was little time left until I fainted. Somehow, I had to figure out how to channel my magic into my mandolin. Never before had I even attempted such a thing.

At first, I tried pulling the strings taut and attempting to play a song on them. It didn't work. Next. I focused on trying to reach Greenspring with my mind. That didn't seem to work either. Whistling a song did nothing, nor did humming or beating my chest like a drum. I didn't know any spells that could do what I wanted. If only I had paid more attention to Greenspring when he had done it the first time.

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Hanging my head, I placed my hand on the broken mandolin. "Greenspring, if you can hear me, I really need your help."

A thick, heavy hand gripped my shoulder. "Are you done?"

Thrig stood beside me. Blood dripped from his axe. Whatever conflict he had found himself in had already healed by the time he found me. He kneeled down next to me. "Tell me, how can you stand to work with him?"

I recoiled back, clutching the remains of my mandolin to my chest. Running wasn't an option, and fighting back was suicide. Thrig watched me carefully. Was he waiting for me to try to escape? The seconds passed like hours. No, he was waiting for my answer.

"Greenspring is my friend."

"Not Greenspring. Gunner," said Thrig. "He is your enemy."

I sighed. "I'm not working with him, we just have similar goals."

"Then why swear on your daughter's life?"

"You heard that? Well, sometimes you have to earn your enemy's trust, even if it costs you everything."

Thrig nodded, apparently satisfied with my answer. "My youth was cut short, taken from me by another. Idealism, trust, and hope, these concepts are lost to me. All I know, can know, will ever know, is revenge. Do you hate Trafford? I mean really hate him. Would you kill him if given the chance?"

I glanced at the doorway. After a few seconds, I answered, "If it came down to going home to my friends and family, or killing Trafford, I would kill him ten times over."

Thrig placed his hand on my mandolin. It began glowing with an eerie greenish-purple light. "Ancient spirits of the forest heed the call of Hrafnkell's servant." The glow turned bright red, fluctuating between the two colors in an uneven pattern. "I call out to Greenspring, son of the lifeless tiger. Come to me."

Holding my breath, I watched as the glow diminished and Thrig stood up. "Why?" I asked as Thrig began walking to the door.

"You have been wronged. It is my duty to help those who have been wronged get their revenge. Today Trafford, another Gunner. Though you lie to me, I feel your hate. I trust it is true. Do not forget, Norman Benson, I will see this through to the end." He hesitated at the doorway. "You cannot escape without a fight, but you will not win in your current state. Rest. Use the last of your magic to hide."

My breathing slowed, my heart rate returned to a normal speed. He was right, there wasn't much time left. As he walked away, I used illusion magic to blend in with the wall. A smile formed on my face. Greenspring was coming, he would save me. Maybe I hadn't been able to do it myself, but he was coming.

He would save me.

I drifted off to sleep.

Piopus appeared in my dreams. "And for our final lesson: what to do when the crowd goes sour."

"Has that ever happened to you?" I asked.

He laughed merrily, shaking his round belly. The bells on his belt jingled. "Not in quite some time, but in my early days it happened often. It helps to learn what people like, even if they don't know."

"So what do I do?"

The smile on Piopus' face faltered as he knelt down to my level. Since he had come to Xalir, he'd aged. Wrinkles grew around his eyes, his skin sagged on his arms, instead of blonde locks he had short gray hair. As he looked into my eyes, I saw years of wisdom stretch across his face.

"You can't make everyone happy. Sometimes things don't work out the way you want them to. So when you've got tomato on your face, and an angry crowd gathered at your door, remember that it won't last. A bad night dwells in the past, don't let it hold you back from a brighter future. Be yourself. You know how well you can really play."

I was awoken by the howl of a wolf. It shook the ground, causing small bits of rock and dust to fall from the ceiling. Looking around the room, I tried to see if Thrig was still there. He was gone. Why he left me alive, I would never understand, but I did know that my prayers had been answered. Springing to my feet, I ran to the doorway.

A wide grin formed on my face as I saw the approaching figures. Nia, Greenspring, Beth, and Zadona had arrived. Beth and Zadona were both armed with bows, arrows nocked and ready. Nia held her axe in one hand and a torch in the other. Greenspring was in his wolf form. His spirit wolf skulked behind him, ears poking up as it listened for any sign of danger.

Beth pushed past the others and slammed into me. Her arms pulled me as close as they could, squeezing what little life was left. She attacked my face with a barrage of kisses, whispering praises to the gods for my safety. I returned her hug, allowing myself to cry in front of all my friends.

Greenspring howled. "You surprise me every time, Norman," said Greenspring, speaking directly into my mind. "How did you—"

"We need to get moving," said Nia, unintentionally cutting Greenspring off.

"What about your parents?" I asked. While I hadn't seen the king and queen brought down here, I suspected they were somewhere within the maze of prison cells.

"They made their choice," she replied, already turning back toward the exit.

As they all turned to leave, Beth grabbed my hand. She pulled me with her, but I resisted. "They tried to help us. We can't just leave them here."

"Drop it, Norman," said Nia firmly.

"I know they hurt you, and I'll never understand how you feel, but if there is a chance to beat Trafford we should take it. The people now know he is undermining the monarchy, they need people to look up to."

"We don't need them, I can kill Trafford myself," she said, gripping her weapon tighter. "Either come with us or stay and rot."

"You're right," I said, throwing up my hands. "We don't need them, but we can use them. If we want to take away Trafford's power, so he can never hurt anyone ever again, it starts with them."

Gritting her teeth, Nia glared down at me. I matched her gaze, but found it difficult to stay determined with her sharp axe still in view. Finally, she unclenched her hand and sighed. Nia turned away from me and glanced at the others. A sad look flashed across her face before she tried to hide it.

"Zadona, scout ahead. Find the safest way to my parents," said Nia.

Zadona nodded. "It shall be done." Slipping into the shadows, she ran down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

Nia turned toward Greenspring. "Take care of the guards."

Greenspring let out a piercing howl, causing the hair on the back of my head to rise. Vines sprang from the ground, sliding along the walls like snakes on the prowl. As Greenspring ran after Zadona, the vines grew flowers of wondrous colors. Nia grabbed my shoulder and pushed me forward in a less than gentle manner.

"You better be right about this," she said.

"I am."