The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks [254]
As the two reached the stone flooring, Menion pretended to glance about the wine cellar in great interest, beginning a jovial conversation with the silent Stenmin. The guards rose slowly and came to attention at the sight of the King’s adviser, who was looking decidedly grim about something. The highlander knew they had been caught off balance by this unexpected visit and he decided to make the most of it.
“I see what you mean, my Lord.” He glowered fiercely at the mystic as they drew near to the sentries. “These men have been drinking while on duty! Suppose the prisoners should have escaped while these men lay in a drunken stupor? The King must be told of this as soon as we have finished our business here.”
The guards turned pale with fear at mention of the King.
“My Lord, you are mistaken,” the one pleaded hastily. “We were only taking a little wine with our breakfast. We have not been lax...”
“The King should decide that.” Menion cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“But... the King will not listen...”
Stenmin glowered in fury at the deception, but the guards misunderstood and quickly assumed he meant to have them punished. The mystic tried to say something, but Menion moved quickly in front of him, as if in an effort to restrain his advance toward the unfortunate guards, drawing the dagger and holding it close to the man’s unprotected chest.
“Yes, of course they are probably lying,” Menion continued without changing his tone of voice. “Still the king is a busy man and I hate to bother him with little problems. Perhaps a word of warning to them...?”
He glanced back at the guards who nodded dumbly, grasping at any chance to avoid Stenmin’s wrath. Like everyone else in the Kingdom, they were frightened of the power the strange mystic possessed over Palance and were more than eager to avoid angering him.
“Very good, then, you have had your warning.” Menion sheathed the dagger and turned back to the still-shaken sentries. “Now open the dungeon door and bring up the prisoners.”
He stood close to Stenmin, glancing at him quickly in warning. The dark face did not seem to see him anymore, the eyes staring vacantly at the stone slab that barred their entry to the dungeons beneath. The sentries had not moved, but were glancing at each other in new desperation.
“My Lord, the King has forbidden anyone to see the prisoners... for any reason,” the one guard gulped at last. “I cannot bring them out of the dungeon.”
“So you would bar the King’s adviser and his personal guest.” Menion did not hesitate. He had expected this. “Then we have no choice but to call the King down here...”
That was all it took. There was no further deliberation as the sentries raced to the stone slab, quickly sliding back the latches and bolts. Bracing themselves, the guards pulled back on the iron ring and the trapdoor swung ponderously upward and fell back heavily against the stone flooring, leaving a gaping black hole. Holding their swords ready, the sentries called down into the darkness, commanding the prisoners to come out. There were footsteps on the ancient stone stairway as Menion waited expectantly at Stenmin’s side, his own sword now drawn. His free hand held the mystic’s arm tightly, and in a sharp whisper he warned the lean adviser not to speak or move. Then Balinor’s broad form appeared from out of the pit, closely followed by the Elven brothers and the durable Hendel, his own attempt to rescue his friends thwarted only hours earlier. They did not see Menion at first. Quickly the highlander stepped forward, still holding the silent Stenmin.
“That’s it, keep them moving, keep them together. Such men must be watched carefully. They are always dangerous.”
The wearied prisoners glanced over abruptly, only thinly masking their astonishment on seeing the Prince of Leah. Menion winked quickly behind the guards’ backs, and the four captives turned away, only the slow smile on Dayel’s young face betraying the sudden joy they were experiencing