The King Rolen's Kin: The Uncrowned King - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,15

which had been lit three hundred years ago when his ancestor, King Rolence the First, had gifted Mount Halcyon to the monks. It would be good to have a protected flame. 'Bring the lamp.' No one moved. 'Now!'

They scrambled, some grabbing sorbt stone pairs, some gathering candles, and others taking icons from their niches and tucking them inside their robes. Joff lifted one of the smaller boys onto his shoulders so he could unhook the lamp.

All the while, the enemy thundered on the door.

Feldspar's eyes flicked repeatedly from the busy boys to the door.

'I'll take the little ones now,' Fyn told him. 'Don't waste any time. They must have a renegade Power-worker with them. When he gets here we won't stand a chance.'

Little hands tugged on Fyn's leggings. Worried faces watched his every move. Lenny sidled up close. Like Fyn, he had been Master Wintertide's servant. Fyn had consoled Lenny as best he could when the old master died. Now he squeezed the boy's shoulder.

Feldspar glanced down to the little boys. 'Go, Fyn. We'll be right behind you.'

Fyn nodded and headed to the far side of the sanctum where a hidden passage led to a maze of private chambers known only to the mystics. Taking a lit candle from its bracket, Fyn led the way through several passages. He heard the soft shuffle of bare feet behind him and the occasional whimper of fear, followed by muttered words of assurance from the older boys.

As he recalled the route to the secret door to Halcyon's Sacred Heart, he decided it would probably be safe to use these lower passages. The abbey was huge and most of the Merofynians would be on the upper floors in the great public chambers, looting. The ones who had come down this low would be concentrating on getting into the sanctum to steal the sorbt stones.

A small hand slid into Fyn's and he looked down to see Lenny.

'I knew you'd save us,' Lenny whispered.

Fyn licked his lips. 'We're not safe yet.' He'd failed the abbot. He must not fail these boys.

Chapter Four

Fyn glanced behind him. All the little ones were with him and most of the bigger ones. Even as he watched, the last of the older acolytes spilled from the far door, milling in the corridor. Feldspar nodded, that was it. They were all out.

Fyn held up his candle and signalled for silence. The soft whispering stopped. In the ensuing quiet, he could just hear the deep shouts of men and the smashing of furniture and glass echoing down from far above. It sounded so wrong in a place where the clatter of busy boys and the chanting of monks were normally the predominant sounds.

'Follow me. Quickly now.' Fyn turned and hurried along the corridor, shielding the flame as he went. His slippers stirred up dust and he heard a few soft coughs behind him. Heart thudding, he led them down a flight of stairs and along another corridor. Down here the honeycomb caves had been adapted for use by the abbey. Down here it was silent, except for the rustle of their garments and the slap of their feet on the stone.

Fyn recognised the storeroom doorway where he had hidden only yesterday morning to watch as the abbot unlocked the secret entrance. It was forbidden to all but the masters. Then Fyn had been on a secret mission for the mystics master. How he wished that Master Catillum was here to advise him now. Strange, he had only come to know the youngest of the abbey's masters in the last few days but he missed him keenly. Grief tugged at him, for if he was right, and the rest of the monks had been lured into a trap, Master Catillum and the weapons master, and even Monk Galestorm who used to bully him, would all soon be dead.

'Is this it?' Feldspar asked.

Fyn realised he had come to a stop in front of the secret panel. He ran his fingers over the carvings, representations of Halcyon's bounty, the grain sheaf, the long-haired goat and more. There, that was the indentation for the key. Taller than the rest, Joff held the sacred lamp high so that Fyn could see what he was doing. The familiar scents of sandalwood and cinnamon filled the passage.

Even though the boys' frightened whispers urged him to rush, Fyn methodically tried one key after another until he heard the mechanism click and the panel slid open. A wave of relief rolled over