knew it was carried out by a group of Stühocs led by their vile commander, Maroke. But even the Stühocs were not foolish enough to execute such an act without fear of repercussion. The only reason that would have motivated them to attack without fear would be if they were already at war or if they knew there would be no consequences. There had been none. For this reason, Julian held a personal disdain for just about anyone who worked for the king and an even harsher hatred for the Stühocs.
Julian crept through the shadows along the west wall of the castle, being careful to stay between the walls and the river’s bank. The castle often received shipments from the south and other regions using the river. The embankments along the river were set in such a way that only one ship at a time could come close to the castle to dock. Trees lined the entranceway on both sides. In the event of an attack, ships would be left in the main course of the river, too far from the castle to make an effective trap. It was not the port that had Julian’s attention, however. It was what was under the port. Spring had bloomed and the heavy rains had come and gone. The secret entrance to the castle would not be fully flooded any longer. At least he hoped it wouldn’t. Julian reached the bank and searched for the direction he needed to take. No boat or ship currently docked near the secret entryway. He felt relieved by this, but slightly exposed, even though he looked to the top of the castle wall and saw no guards. Unable to shake the feeling, he took a deep breath and slid into the water until he was completely submerged.
The murky water combined with the darkness of the night made it impossible to see. He remembered when he found this secret way long ago when he was just a boy. He had been fishing and Morgan had thrown his pole into the river, laughing all the while. He had gotten nervous when Julian didn’t come up for air after diving to retrieve his pole. When Julian finally emerged, Morgan thought he had some sort of magical powers to be able to hold his breath for so long.
“Thought you killed me again?” Julian had asked.
Morgan never answered. He simply walked away, white-faced and bewildered.
Swimming the path at night took some heavy use of his memory and some precision. He swam deeper and deeper toward the castle base. The moonlight was now gone, leaving nothing to show him his way. He reached out his hand and finally felt the slimy, stone wall. He moved along to the left, until he could feel the wall disappear into an upward pathway. He swam through the passage until his feet touched stone and he began to walk slowly. After a few more seconds, his head emerged from the water and he was inside the castle wall. He pulled out his sword and with a thought it burst into flames, turning it to torchlight. It was practical magic. His father had insisted that his sons learn it since they were in a land that made it possible. Their tutor had taught them everything from making torches to picking up objects with their mind. Julian, however, took it upon himself to add a few techniques to his repertoire that would assist him in a time of need. It had been too long since he had used it, though.
Inside the watery cave, he stood feet from a marble door, which was delicately carved with a picture of a tree. It was a beautiful piece of art and Julian had always wondered who had crafted it. Leaves fell from the carved branches, but at its base lay something disturbing. It was a figure of a man on the ground, dying from an arrow wound, protruding from his chest. Next to him was a bent crown, possibly symbolizing the fall of the Human king, but Julian could not be sure. Along the walls of the tiny hallway leading to the door were images of war, monsters eating Humans, Erellens making sacrifices of the Stühocs. Julian had never understood any of the carvings. It all seemed so evil. He knew this was not the time to try and decipher who or what might have carved these images. He reached deep into his pocket and produced the golden key he had swiped