Lanico kept his grip on the hilt firm, steady. Ready for advancement. He shot a glance to Treva, making a connected gaze. “To the throne room—he’s likely there.”
She gave a solid nod.
Chapter 26
They wasted no time
In swiftness, they moved.
The floor opened to reveal an expansive layout. Empty tables and daintily crafted chairs sat against the large window, overlooking the abandoned western side of Odana; the WynSprign’s village.
They didn’t dare pause to catch a glimpse of the view, which was designedly spectacular. In unspoken promise, they would have time to once again enjoy the splendors of the Castle of Odana. To once again take in the beauty, was one of the multitudes of awards they’d have.
With racing hearts and tightly gripped swords, they headed straight for the throne room. The castle kitchen came into view and then, just beyond, came the wall separating the throne room. These were visible as well as the stationed guards. The guards, who were barely visible against the gray stone, had been stationed near each other outside the kitchen and throne room across the way. Their swords gleamed—swords!
Damn it! More sword-trained castle guards, Lanico thought in aggravation. It shouldn’t have been a surprise by now, but it was. He had started growing accustomed to the knife thrusts and lumbered movements.
Immediately, one of the guards locked eyes on them and roared, “Intruder!” His voice filled the entire space and his hands moved frantically, tugging at his pouch for precious trillium. With his kitchen guard comrade so near, that volume, that shout was meant for others to hear. Others beyond their vicinity. The other Mysra guard near him was successful in her attempt to ingest the powerful mineral quickly. Her head tilted back and her arm flung a small pouch aside.
Lanico and Treva glanced each other and sprinted off, wasting no time. Together, they raced straight for the castle guards and then divided to their assigned foes.
“I got kitchen guard!” Treva shouted. Her eyes focused on her cocky match, who tossed her sword from one palm to the other. Cocky. She was a trillium-induced cocky guard with that stance, but Treva was equally as cocky.
The Mysra guarding the throne room gave up his oafish rummage for the trillium and quickly fumbled for his sword while Lanico advanced. A lion charging a rhino. Lanico closed in. His legs took long strides as he roared grasping Reluctant Leader, holding it high. His eyes were on the Mysra, boring intently. He knew that this was the only way to get his kingdom; his only chance. His heart hammered against his ribs.
The guard buckled his knees and braced himself for the inevitable strike. He held his sword at the ready en garde position, glaring.
Lanico made a wide swipe that sent the guard back a few paces. Relentless, Reluctant Leader met the guard’s long sword with a loud clash. Over and over again. Power and ferocity fused. The flashing strikes between them were power laden and driven with force. It was with great reason that this specific guard was chosen for his location. He was skilled.
Treva’s wielded both of her swords and her fast flash of movements weren’t even heard by Lanico, who was working to outmaneuver his guard. Her trillium-hyped castle guard who had been positioned outside the kitchen was struggling to keep up with her speed.
She spun and delivered consecutive blows that railed against the kitchen guard’s own long sword. Treva caught a downward strike, which slid down to the hilt’s guard. Her emerald hair, still wet with rain, swung at her deft strides. It was a flagged signal for them, for the enemy: the Mysra Slayer, had returned from hell and payment was due. They struggled against one another. Treva kicked forward, landing a foot to the guard’s gut. The guard was sent back by force and her face twisted, laced in pain and instant illness.
Treva quickly used that space between, running to leap, to launch herself in a series of diagonal spins. Airborne, Treva’s falchion cracked down, slicing off the guard’s arm. Had there been more power behind her strike, she imaged her blade may have severed ribs. However, it didn’t. Landing, Treva finished her. The moment she took her arm, the Mysra’s life was up. She knew. Treva connected a brief gaze into hers, and thrust her long sword into her heart. This guard was a female and at the highest position likely offered by the Mysra, but there was no love lost. She was on the wrong side. A quick tug and Treva pulled both her blackened blades free, just in time to hear more running, more steps approaching!
More coming.
Lanico was trying, working to keep up with the throne room guard likely assigned that role due to his noticeable prowess. And it was noted. He was making Lanico work for his victory.
Lanico’s clashes with the castle guard were loud. The stunning metallic clangs and twangs echoed and sparked. Lanico’s blue eyes were wide and focused. But to him, this meant more—it meant everything. He was determined, hungry for the win. He, unlike Treva, wasn’t playing at games. His movements were true, deliberate to achieve a goal, fast. Efficiently. He needed to find Grude, and the guards were only a nuisance. The guard was skilled and challenging for Lanico. He was strong, much stronger than Lanico, but Lanico was more agile. Faster.
Spinning, the General Prince quickly dodged his low heavy attempts and thrusts; he ebbed, flowing through movements, avoiding defeat, and wisely he didn’t guard himself on the heavy blows that the guard tried to deliver. That would have proven too costly. He knew that this large Mysra’s powerful strikes could bring him down effortlessly. Lanico dropped down to avoid a low sweeping strike. His head just barely missed as he bent himself backward, arching for a flash. Lanico leaped quickly to his feet and swung at the guard’s ribs countering, moving in the opposite direction. The guard completed his spin, moving with the unblocked swing and avoiding Lanico’s strike.
Lanico made a puff of frustration, fuming at his failed attempts. He was anxious to win this already and get on to face Grude—wherever he was cowering at the moment. The guard’s sword blocked an outward swing from Lanico. Their swords were locked and held high. In a split second, Lanico switched his wrist position and slid his sword back into the guard’s neck. A flash of black blood fountained from his neck and chest. Instantaneously, he fell to his knees, dead.
By then, Treva had already begun fighting two more Mysra, but he knew her—very well. No, she wasn’t in it for the kill. She was keeping them at bay—from him. Her swings and thrusts, her acrobats were fun, entertainment to her and perhaps to the bloodthirsty Mysra that were enamored with catching her or running her through. The challenge, the thrill of finally killing the Emerald Knight, the Mysra Slayer, teased them.
True to form, she toyed with her prey. Feeling her energy waning, she eyed a ledge. In a burst, she leaped high onto a wooden support beam over them. She knew they outmatched her in strength. She had to fight smarter, and they were beginning to wear on her.
The guards cast twin glares at her. One screamed for her to get down just as he began pounding on the stone wall that held the kitchen on the other side. His jolts against the wall caused small quakes, loosing dust, but overall, still useless in their attempts.
Treva looked down at him grinning through the snowfall of dust. A cat’s grin indeed. Her focus gave no intention to the General Prince. Now, both guards were railing and pounding. For necessary seconds, briefly the focus was on her. It was just enough time.
Chapter 27
Speckled black blood
Lanico lunged at one of the guard’s legs from behind, slicing through cords of muscle. He howled. The sound was a combination of agony and fury. The guard ineffectively held his sword. It was a pathetic, feeble position that lacked any remaining skill or strength. That blow was disabling and the General Prince decided that his time was up.
One of her guards turned toward his injured comrade. He was about to begin his assault on Lanico when Treva, in a few quick movements, was holding her falchion as a dagger and leaped from her perch to deliver the sharp end into the guard’s skull. For him, the game was over.
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sp; The blade pierced through the top his skull and was driven down into his thick neck. Using her small form, Treva stood on his alerted shoulders and quickly pulled her sword from the skull with a hefty thrust upward. The Mysra’s body began to lean. She flipped from him effortlessly and her soft boots made only slight padding sounds on the stone floor with her expert landing. His large body fell with a crash that seemed to make a small quake that jostled their feet.
Distracted, the guard that had been fighting Lanico was no longer focused on Treva or his leg; for a split second he viewed the demise of his comrade. Lanico seized the opportunity and swung Reluctant Leader’s blade through the guard’s exposed arm, slicing it through effortlessly. The thick arm separated from the guard in one easy swipe. In an instant, the guard hadn’t realized the error as the blade was so sharp the pain hadn’t set in. The thick, heavy arm fell to the stone ground with a thud and rolled slightly. The guard, stunned seeing his arm sliced off, panicked. Now searing pain danced in his eyes. The guard screamed.
Lanico continued his mission and rounded his sword back around to sever the guard’s head in another clean swipe. The sound was swift and the sword once again sliced through with little effort. The scream reverberated even after the head was disconnected. The Mysra’s head and body tumbled to the ground to join his gray log of an arm. It was much like the outcome Treva had given the kitchen guard, just before.
Lanico stopped and panted, looking at Treva. She smiled quickly, standing over the remains of her latest victim. She was relieved and invigorated. She loved this. They were back. And Lanico brought down that last guard intending to replicate the way Treva finished the female kitchen guard moments before. “Impressive.” She said in their gaze.
Black blood, panting, and clever smiles peaked. Oh fires, how they noticed each other. Their bodies, their panting, the heat of fight licking them, the adrenaline, the energy, the thrill of it all...
“You’ll be my next conquest,” they thought simultaneously with connecting stares.
He huffed a laugh.
He stalked closer to her and leaned. Their gazes locked. Their souls became entwined—paralyzing to each of them. His face, his mouth drew in.
“Damn it!”
Lanico pulled himself from planting a slow kiss to Treva’s inviting lips because suddenly there were more footsteps bounding down the halls. Of course, he thought irritably. The screams of the now-dead guards had worked at alerting their fellow comrades indeed—and also awaking Lanico and Treva from their passion-laced trances. At that moment, the bellowing encampment horn sounded. Its horrid cry carried alarm throughout the distance.
They needed to get this mission accomplished, swiftly.
“Lan, quick! To the throne room! I’ll hold them off!” Treva held her swords at the ready. Lanico was hesitant to leave her, but knew that he had to find and kill the Mysra leader, now. If he completed his mission now, then he’d make it back here faster, to aid her at whatever mass was approaching. With a face of stone, he nodded. Black blood speckled his cheek and neck. He spun, kicking open the throne room door just behind a dead Mysra body. It thrust, slamming against the wall.
He gulped. His steps were grainy against the floor. It had been years. Many long years since he had been in this room. A room for his father, for royal ceremonies, a room for him. The bloodied Reluctant Leader was upright in his grip. The power within it still foreign, but radiated through his hands for reasons still beyond his understanding. The lack of Greta’s tutelage here still apparent. Had the seizure of the kingdom never taken root, he imagined she would have taught him how to harness his power, his healing, and the power of the sword even. But he determined, that would have to come later.
His eyes darted around the extensive room, searching. Scanning everywhere for more guards. For surprises. He found none. Only cool air that chilled his rain-damp clothes and hair. His heart hammered.
The familiar green hues from the stained-glass window reflected the murky light from outside. It reminded him of his often frustrating time spent in this room. It had never been a room of fond memories. Dead rulers of old. Fray statues that had been carved into the expanse that represented a union of a time forgotten, and then his forced marriage to Raya... His grip tightened. His boots quietly echoed against the stone. He stalked cautiously toward the dais in the center, toward the unguarded throne. He had to be quick.
The sounds of his movements against the stone walls had him looking around in anticipation. His silver hair clung to his neck as he whirled, searching. The vast room appeared empty. The majority of the priceless statues, art, buttresses that had graced the room were now gone and hoarded only Odan Himself knew where. He neared the throne from behind. At his approached, he saw a small gray elbow jutting from the throne’s armrest. Lanico lifted his sword to deliver a sweeping blow, but stopped a hand’s breadth short. His breath caught,
An errand boy sat in the large chair. He looked up at Lanico with horror lashing in his eyes.
“Don’t hurt me,” his youthful voice sounded. “S-sire Grude told me to wait here until he came back.” The young Mysra boy looked up pleadingly.
Lanico’s face twisted in disgust. He backed away, still keeping his sword firm, but lowering it.
The boy trembled. Lanico took his gaze off the wooden doors to the hallway he just came from and glanced down at the boy.
“Remember, kindness and mercy exist here with me boy. I’ll not harm you. Now go for your safety!” Lanico pointed to the main entrance doors with his sword. The boy hesitated. “Go.” he said more forcefully, and the boy dashed from the throne room through the entryway doors.
Lanico rolled back the ache in his muscled shoulders—he’d allow himself to feel the fatigue later. He heard the sounds of trampling. Treva. Abandoning caution, he ran; his steps echoed at his rapid pace moving once more toward the back of the throne room from where he entered. Propelling the heavy door aside, he gasped.
Roughly ten Mysra guards skimmed to a halt before him. They had just arrived. The smell of trillium immediately met his senses in a wave.
Treva?
Panic filled his mind.
✽✽✽
The Mysra boy fought for air. His gray cheeks flushed. Running, Cantata was spotted. By now, her dress was drenched. Her hair was a river of coiling black snakes about her neck and shoulders. She marched toward the boy, toward the castle from which he ran. Her eyes smoldered with anger.
“Boy!” she shouted, as he ran down. “I said boy! Where are you going? What’s happened in there? Why are you leaving your duties indoor and running out from the castle?”
The young page breathed, “A tall WynSprign man said I had to leave the castle.” He fought for more air. “He said he wouldn’t harm me.”
For a second, her face softened in thought. “A tall WynSprign man?” Then the look of fury rekindled. “What was his name?” she asked hastily. No, the boy wouldn’t have asked for that. “What did he look like?” she corrected.
He paused.
“Speak, boy!”
“I, uh, I don’t know his name, but he had silver hair and a big sword—he was taller than me.” He held up his hand. A mark which indicated the WynSprign man was nearly the same height as her.
“So…you left your duty—your post? Your duties don’t include you leaving the castle at this time of day! And you left—obeying another’s order?” When he didn’t answer, she pursed her lips tight, and delivered a stinging slap to his face. He fell back a few steps. “How dare you disobey and leave the castle without permission from a superior!”
The boy held his cheek and tried not to let his eyes water.
“Return boy!” She pointed to the entrance in the distance.
He hesitated.
“Now!” She railed.
The boy slowly shook his head. His cheek flushed further from her strike. Abruptly, he turned and tore off, as fast as his legs could manage and away from the castle.
“Oh, damn it!” Cantata
yelled. Understanding the doom within, the way of the sword likely already at work, she recoiled trying to contain an instant guttural sob from exploding from within. She wouldn’t share with the boy that she merely wanted to enter with him, that she was frightened of entering alone. Of course, she didn’t care about his welfare or of the threat of danger to him once inside. She was alone. Blended with fear and rage, she gathered up her skirts and begin to trudge upward toward the castle with long squelching strides. She was so easily winded and dizzy. Her light jog ceased. She fought the urge to outright pass out. It was all too much.
The Legacy of Lanico: Return of the Son: Book two of the Legacy of Lanico series Page 24
