by Clayton Wood
Hunter leapt onto its belly, swinging his sword right at its chest. The hilt struck the cross-guard of Vi’s sword, shoving the blade deeper into the Ironclad’s chest.
The Ironclad shrieked.
“Time to die, freak,” he shouted, raising his sword up again. He chopped downward, but the Ironclad intercepted the blow with one forearm, deflecting his sword to the side. He grunted, raising his weapon a third time. The Ironclad held up one hand.
“Stop!” it cried.
Hunter ignored it, chopping downward, this time striking Vi’s cross-guard again. Her blade sank even deeper into the thing’s chest, and it bit off a scream.
“Stop,” it repeated. Hunter raised his sword again.
“You tried to kill my friend,” he retorted angrily, chopping downward. The Ironclad managed to block the blow again. “You tried to kill me!”
“No,” the beast protested. “Hunter, stop!”
He swung his sword up, then froze, staring at the Ironclad. A chill ran down his spine.
“What?”
“Stop,” it repeated.
“How did you know my name?” he demanded. It grimaced, clutching at Vi’s blade. He kicked its hands away. “Tell me!”
It shook its head, staring up at him.
“Is it really you?” it murmured. It reached up with one hand, trying to touch Hunter’s face. Hunter jerked away. “It is you,” it gasped. “I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t…recognize you.”
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded. “And why do you keep sending these…things to try and kill me?”
“I didn’t send anyone…to kill you,” it countered, trying to grab the blade again. He batted its hands away.
“One more move and I’ll kill you, I swear to god,” he growled.
“I sent them to find you,” the creature said. “To save you from…”
It grimaced, its breaths coming more quickly now, blood spilling from the corner of its mouth.
“From what?” he pressed.
“From them,” it answered. “From the…kingdom.”
Hunter just stared at it.
“I knew they’d…get to you,” it continued. “We had to get to…you first.” It grimaced, gritting its teeth. White teeth, in stark contrast to its jet-black lips.
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s why I sent…your…brother,” it gasped.
Hunter lowered his sword, staring down at the creature. A chill ran through him, goosebumps rising on his arms.
“My what?”
“Your brother,” it repeated. “I sent him…to the Gate,” it explained.
“No,” Hunter protested. “What brother? I don’t have a brother.”
The creature’s lips curled into a smile.
“Yes…you do,” it insisted, gripping Vi’s blade with one hand. It tried to pull on it, but the blade didn’t budge. “We never told you,” it added.
Hunter swallowed in a dry throat, his body feeling numb, as if he wasn’t really here. As if this were happening to someone else. He barely felt his sword slip out of his hands, falling with a clatter on the ground.
“No,” he whispered.
The creature coughed, bloody sputum dribbling down its chin. Then it smiled up at him again, reaching up and placing one hand gently on his leg.
“I’ve waited…for this moment,” she whispered, “…for so…long.”
Hunter’s legs wobbled, and he fell to his knees beside her, not even registering the pain as his knees struck the rocky floor. Tears blurred his vision, and he bit back a sob, his whole body trembling.
“I love…you,” she gasped, her breathing slowing. She gripped Vi’s sword again, trying in vain to pull it out. Her hands slipped from the blade, and she sucked a deep breath in, a horrible gurgling sound coming from deep within her throat.
“No,” Hunter mumbled. “No no no…”
“Take…” she gasped. “Take…”
And then she let out one last breath, her eyes staring off into the void.
Chapter 34
Dominus let go of his son, grabbing his cane and rising shakily to his feet.
He stared down at Conlan, at the pool of blood growing around the boy, then glanced at his own hands. They were covered in blood. He wiped his hands on his shirt, but the blood was sticky, and wouldn’t come off.
He stumbled backward, shaking his head slowly, his lower lip quivering.
What have I done?
Dominus heard a clunk, and turned to see the door to the Royal Chamber opening. He froze, his heart leaping into his throat.
Two members of the Royal Guard rushed into the room, their swords bared. Their eyes went to Dominus, then to Conlan’s body slumped against the bed.
“I can…” Dominus began, holding up both hands.
“Murderer!” one of the guards shouted, rushing at him. The guard slashed at Dominus with terrible speed, the blade arcing at his neck. Dominus stood a step backward, then blinked.
His cane-sword was already in his hands, the tip embedded in the guard’s throat. The guard’s sword flew to the side, striking the wall with a terrible clatter.
The guard slumped to the ground, dead.
The second guard stared at Dominus, his eyes widening.
“Wait,” Dominus protested. But the guard cried out, thrusting at Dominus’s belly. Dominus’s sword intercepted the blade, and he counterattacked, slashing at the guard’s throat. The guard blocked the attack, kicking at Dominus’s belly. Dominus stepped to the side, slamming the pommel of his sword on the guard’s knee, then slashing at his throat again.
The guard’s head came clean off of his shoulders, toppling to the floor in a spray of blood.
More guards ran into the room, and Dominus stood before them, raising one hand.
“Stop!” he commanded.
The guards looked down at their two dead colleagues. At the two Royal guards, masters of warfare, considered the greatest warriors in the kingdom. Unmatched in skill, almost invincible.
Then they looked up at Dominus, the old cripple that had bested them. In seconds.
“As your Duke,” Dominus ordered, “…I command you to stand down!”
“We answer to the king,” one of the guards retorted. He gestured at the other guards, and they surrounded Dominus, forming a loose circle around him.
“There is no king,” Dominus countered. “And my son is dead.”
“You assassinated him,” the guard argued.
“He went mad,” Dominus retorted, pointing to the cracks in the crystal slab where Tykus’s Ossae lay. “He was going to destroy the Ossae!”
The guards glanced at the slab, their resolve clearly wavering.
“I killed my own son,” Dominus declared, his voice cracking. “I killed him to save Tykus. To save the kingdom.” He stared at the guards, standing at his full height. “Is that not my sworn duty as Duke of Wexford?”
The guards glanced at each other, then lowered their weapons.
“Drop your weapon,” one guard ordered. Dominus hesitated, then lowered his sword to the floor, standing back up with some difficulty. “Summon Duke Ratheburg,” the guard commanded one of his fellows. The guard saluted, sprinting out of the room. Dominus stood there, surrounded by the Royal Guard. A part of him wondered what would happen if they attacked, if Ratheburg gave the order to kill him. He’d exposed himself to powerful artifacts – artifacts forbidden by the kingdom, most of which Vi had provided him. His skills were clearly superior to that of a single guard, but if they all attacked at once…
He grit his teeth, knowing that Ratheburg stood to gain by having him murdered. The second most powerful duke in the kingdom, Ratheburg could kill Dominus, then install Axio as a puppet Duke of Wexford, molding the boy in Dominus’s absence as he saw fit. He could sap power from the Duchy, until Ratheburg became the most powerful man in the kingdom save for the king. It could happen even if he didn’t die today.
Dominus lowered his gaze, staring at
the sword lying there.
If Ratheburg betrays me, he thought, I’ll have to kill him before the guards kill me.
Dominus rejected the idea immediately, raising his gaze to the chamber door. He could not allow such an ignoble end to his family’s reign. The Dukes of Wexford had served the kingdom selflessly for millennia. He would not be the first to betray their legacy.
If he was to die today, so be it.
Minutes passed, pain growing in his rotting, infected leg, and he clenched his teeth against the pain, sweat beading on his forehead. He refused to allow these men to see weakness in him. He had to be strong until the very end.
A man strode through the doorway suddenly, accompanied by more guards. It was, Dominus saw, Duke Ratheburg.
Ratheburg saw Dominus standing there, hands and uniform covered in blood, and he froze, his eyes widening. His gaze was drawn inexorably to Conlan’s corpse, slumped against the violated crystal slab atop his bedframe.
“Dear God,” Ratheburg blurted out, his eyes returning to Dominus. “What the hell happened here?”
“Conlan went mad,” Dominus answered shakily. “He thought himself stronger than Tykus, and when he discovered he wasn’t…” Dominus shook his head, the words catching in his throat. “He went insane, said he’d make his mark. He tried to destroy Tykus,” he added, gesturing at the damaged slab.
“Unthinkable!” Ratheburg exclaimed, striding forward, ignoring the guards around Dominus. He walked up to Conlan’s body, staring at it, then at the cracks in the slab. His shoulders relaxed visibly, and he turned to face Dominus. “It’s intact, thank God.”
“It is,” Dominus agreed. “I tried to reason with him,” he added, gesturing at Conlan. “But he wouldn’t listen. He grabbed Tykus’s warhammer…”
“I see,” Ratheburg interjected. He sighed then, shaking his head. “To think of what would have happened if you hadn’t acted…it’s inconceivable.”
“These guards attacked me,” Dominus said, gesturing at the two dead Royal guards. “They thought I had assassinated Conlan, and would not hear my story.”
“You defeated them?” Ratheburg inquired, his eyebrows rising. It was unheard of for any man to best a Royal guard…any noble, that was. The dukes, however, were exposed to powerful legal artifacts, Ratheburg knew.
“My family left me many fine artifacts,” Dominus explained. “A blessing that the Dukes of Wexford never had to use them until now.”
“Indeed,” Ratheburg replied. He sighed then. “I admit I was aware of Conlan’s troubled mind, but I never thought he’d descend into madness so completely.” He walked up to Dominus, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I, and the kingdom – indeed, humanity itself – will be forever in your debt.”
Dominus swallowed past a lump in his throat, nodding back.
“It is my duty to protect the kingdom,” he murmured.
“And you have executed that duty today, at great personal cost,” Ratheburg replied. He turned to Conlan’s body, shaking his head again. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Dominus.”
“As am I,” Dominus replied, his voice wavering.
Ratheburg glanced at the guards surrounding Dominus, and glared at them.
“Stand down,” he ordered sharply. “You are in the presence of the heir to the crown of Tykus!”
The guards sheathed their swords immediately, turning about and walking out of the room, leaving Ratheburg alone with Dominus. Dominus hesitated, then shook his head.
“I cannot accept the kingship, Ratheburg,” he declared. Ratheburg blinked.
“What?”
“I cannot accept it,” Dominus repeated. Ratheburg’s eyes narrowed.
“Why the hell not?” he demanded.
“I’m not fit for it.”
“Malarkey,” Ratheburg retorted. “You’re as fit as any man. Fitter, I’d say,” he added, gesturing at the corpses of the guards. “Dominus, you cannot refuse the crown again. Once was suspicious enough, but twice?” He shook his head. “If it weren’t for your actions today, I’d worry about your loyalty.”
“I’m dying,” Dominus stated bluntly.
Ratheburg stared at him silently, his jaw dropping.
“I’m dying,” Dominus repeated. He bent down, ignoring the pain in his leg, and pulled off his boot, then his sock, exposing his mutilated foot. The entire foot was black, tendrils of necrotic tissue extending up past the ankle. Pus oozed from the septic flesh of his beefy red shin, a red streak winding up his leg.
Ratheburg drew a sharp breath in, jerking backward. His eyes widened, his hand going to his mouth.
“Oh god,” he mumbled. “Please, cover it,” he added, turning to the side and dry-heaving. Dominus obeyed, slipping his sock and boot back on.
“I’m dying,” he repeated firmly. “The infection has already spread to the bone, and will go to my blood. The doctors say even amputation is unlikely to save me now.”
Ratheburg nodded, still turned away from him.
“If I become king, I will die before the transformation is complete,” Dominus insisted. “Or soon afterward.”
“I understand,” Ratheburg agreed, finally turning to face him. The man glanced down at Dominus’s foot, clearly relieved that it was covered once again. “Then I suppose we have no choice,” he stated. “We must enlist your heir to ascend to the throne.” He paused. “What was his name again?”
“Axio,” Dominus answered, his jaw rippling. The thought of wasting such a perfect heir to the Duchy was heartbreaking. To think of how long he’d waited for a suitable heir, after his son had proven himself a failure…
“Axio, yes,” Ratheburg replied. “He shall become king then.”
“As you say,” Dominus agreed.
“Very well then,” Ratheburg sighed. He put a hand on Dominus’s shoulder. “You should get back to Wexford, to get your affairs in order.”
Dominus nodded, knowing the man was right. He had to choose another heir, and soon. It was unlikely he would find a candidate like Axio again. That meant the Duchy might suffer a weak link in the long chain of dukes, a chain extending backward across the millennia.
He would have to plan accordingly.
Ratheburg patted Dominus’s shoulder, a sad expression on his face.
“I’m sorry, old friend,” he murmured. “You’re too fine a man to have suffered like this.”
Dominus felt a lump rise in his throat, and nodded mutely. Ratheburg held his gaze for a moment longer, then walked out of the chamber, leaving Dominus alone. He watched the man go, taken aback by Ratheburg’s generosity…by his selflessness. Far from taking advantage of him, Ratheburg had executed the duties of his office with honor and integrity. He was truly a fine man, bred and educated to be a paragon of virtue.
The kind of man the kingdom was supposed to produce.
Dominus sighed, glancing at the corpse of his son, then at the guards at his feet. It was only then that he realized how far he’d strayed from the ideals of the kingdom, dabbling in forbidden artifacts. They’d muddied his ideals, making him suspicious of others, suspicious of men that were beyond suspicion. It had all been for the noblest of causes…to give him the tools he needed to protect his people, their way of life. But in doing so, he’d stopped being like them. He was an outsider now.
He clenched his fists, turning to face the corpse of his son, knowing that Conlan had been right all along. The boy’s will had tainted him.
Dominus turned away from his son’s body, picking up his cane-sword and sheathing it, then limping slowly toward the chamber door, leaving Conlan behind.
But with each painful step he took, he knew that his son’s will remained, living on within him.
Chapter 35
Vi plunged through the waterfall behind her, the ice-cold water drenching her instantly. She felt herself falling, then felt her back slam into the pool beyond. Water rushed in all around her, enveloping her. Her back struck something hard below – the rocky bottom of the pool. She felt herself sli
ding to the left, and reached out with her right hand, grabbing at the rock below. But her fingers slipped over their smooth, slick surface, and she continued to slide, gaining speed as the current grabbed her.
She kicked with her legs, rising up out of the water, her head bursting through the surface. She took a deep breath in, staring at the waterfall ahead.
Hunter!
Vi tried to get her feet under her, but the current swept her sideways, her feet sliding on the bottom of the pool. She saw a spray of red to her left, and turned, staring at what remained of her left arm. A stump just above the elbow, pearly white bone and rust-colored muscle visible there. Blood spurted from the artery there, her blood draining with every beat of her heart.
Fuck.
She grimaced, pressing the stump hard against her side to staunch the flow. Her feet slipped out from underneath her, her head plunging below the surface again. She pulled her feet underneath her again, feeling her left foot strike something. Opening her eyes, she saw a dark, round blur at the bottom of the pool, lined by a faint blue light. She reached out for it on an impulse, grabbing it and pulling it to her chest. Then she got her feet under her, standing up again. Her head emerged from the water, and she took another deep, gasping breath in, looking down at the object she’d grabbed.
It was the head…the Ironclad’s head. Its mane glowed blue, the light reflecting off of the rippling water. She saw the waterfall pulling away as the current carried her toward the stream emptying the pool, toward the dark, gaping maw of the tunnel it flowed into.
She turned back to the waterfall, her heart leaping in her throat.
Hunter!
Vi tried to get her feet under her again, tried to resist the ever-growing power of the current sweeping her away. But it was no use. She grit her teeth, staring at the waterfall, her heart sinking.
The damn fool.
He was as good as dead, she knew. That…thing would tear him apart. Probably already had. An emotion she hadn’t felt in years came over her, a pain she’d promised she’d never allow herself to experience again.
That damn, beautiful fool.
