The Marenon Chronicles Collection - By Jason D. Morrow Page 0,61

all get caught,” Alric said. “It takes the rest of us to make sure you aren’t caught. If you get caught then we haven’t done our job on the mission.”

Silas shook his head.

“I told you this was not going to be easy,” Alric said.

Silas spent the moment in silence, thinking and rethinking why he was even there. There was no guarantee that his grandfather was alive or could even be found. If there was no finding Garland Ainsley then there was no rescuing Kaden, and in that moment it felt like that was the only purpose that Silas had. There was no other option, he concluded. These people would either help him or they wouldn’t and right now they were the only ones offering.

Silas nodded. “I’m with you.”

“Good,” Alric said sharply. “Now, once you have the staff there will be a loud alarm alerting the Anwyns to our presence. I wager you’ll have about three minutes to make it to the east door and meet with us before any of the Anwyns can get to you. We will wait at the exit and be off.”

Silas nodded. He wasn’t sure he had just made the best decision of his afterlife, but he had made up his mind. He was going to find his grandfather or he was going to die trying.

Chapter Fifteen

Julian Hobbes stood on the roof of the inn breathing the cool night air deep into his lungs as he gazed upon the castle of Farlaweer, which was illuminated by the starlit sky. He fingered the golden key, the device that would open any door in the castle, including the one to the king’s chamber. There was no question where the medallion was kept. It hung proudly, perhaps stupidly, around the neck of King Morgan. That is, until he was asleep. Julian knew the habits of his brother, and he knew them well. He had been in the king’s chamber a few times when his brother had begun his reign. For the brief time that he put up with Morgan’s arrogance and condescension, Julian became familiar with his ‘kingly’ routines.

Morgan was an early-to-bed, late-to-rise sort of person. He never let the struggles of kingship or worries of the realm get to him. When the sun faded, Morgan was ready to be finished with the day. He’s probably already sleeping like a baby, Julian thought. Morgan had been that way since they were children.

The medallion would be resting on a table next to his bed along with several royal rings and an oil lamp. Getting to the table and taking the medallion would be no problem. The only problem that Julian could foresee would be getting past the tight security throughout the castle. Two guards would be stationed outside the king’s chambers and taking them down quietly would be no easy task. It was a mission of stealth. He could not be seen, heard or sensed in anyway. Fortunately, Julian knew every part of the castle by heart. He knew the guard’s routes, the times they passed by certain points and even when they were allowed a bathroom break. As a teenager, several years after his father began his rule as king, Julian would try to sneak to his room from outside the castle without being seen. The first few times he got caught and could have even been killed, sneaking around a guard like he did, but he never got in serious trouble. Instead, he tried and tried again to see if he could actually do it. Once he figured out the routes and positions of all the guards, it became all too easy for him. It had been a long time since he had done such a thing and he was going to a different part of the castle this time. He hoped the guard’s routes had not changed too much.

He sniffed the air again and could smell the eastern winds blowing from the Ocalan River. The time was right. He left the roof of the inn and made his way through the vacant streets and to the castle. Marenon’s moon was high in the bright, clear, night sky, illuminating his path. Most people were inside their homes by this time. No person would see him, just as he wanted. He pulled his dark cloak close to him and the hood shadowed his face. To a person from any sort of distance Julian would have looked to be only a shadow moving briskly. His sword clung to his back