by Richard Ford
TWENTY-SIX
Kaira watched as Merrick collapsed on his bunk, still fully clothed. She had been furious. She was still furious, but now wasn’t the time to sort that out. Merrick began to snore as she donned her armour and strapped her blade to her side.
She had asked Statton and Waldin to stay on duty when it had been hers and Merrick’s to carry out. Though Merrick would be of no use she could at least allow one of them some respite. If Garret found out what had happened there would be the hells to pay and no mistake. But Kaira would face any consequences as she faced all things – head on. It had been more important that she find Merrick, to stop him sliding back to his old ways. There was a good man, somewhere in there, but he was prone to bouts of self-pity. Kaira had saved him once, but did not know how often she could keep doing it.
She rushed from the barracks and through the corridors of Skyhelm. By now the queen would be in her bedchamber and with luck Kaira would be able to relieve Waldin or Statton before anyone was the wiser. At this time of night the corridors of the palace were deserted, yet she had a feeling of disquiet. Was it her guilt? She felt as though the ancient tapestries and the grim portraits of kings long dead were looking down at her in judgement. Was she ashamed that she had abandoned her post to find Merrick?
Kaira made her way towards the reliquary, just beneath the upper chambers. On opening the door she saw a sight that made her heart almost stop. Two Sentinels lay on the ground, their helms stoved in. Neither was moving.
She drew her sword and moved forward, suddenly startled to see Chancellor Durket crouched in a corner. Tears streaked his face and he bit down hard on his knuckles as though desperate to suppress his sobs.
Kaira opened her mouth to ask what had occurred, but cursed herself instead as she heard a movement in the shadows to her left. She barely had time to dodge out of the way as the attacker struck.
Kaira ducked the blow and staggered back into the centre of the chamber. Focusing with difficulty in the dim torchlight she could make out four men surrounding her. They wore tunics of red, their faces expressionless, but she still knew their intent. They wanted her dead.
These foreign bodyguards might be unarmed, but they were clearly dangerous: the fallen Sentinels were testament to that, and Kaira had no time to wonder why they had suddenly turned on the knights of Skyhelm. Two rushed her at once and the fighting began.
Kaira’s sword swept in low and swift, hacking off a leg at the knee but as the red-clad bodyguard fell she was hit from the side. Despite the armour she wore from neck to foot the strike still shuddered through her entire body as she was knocked aside. There was little time to recover before another warrior leapt at her. Kaira rolled to the left, towards where Durket cowered, as her attacker’s foot came down, smashing into the tiled floor and sending shards flying.
Chancellor Durket let out a yelp and scrambled some distance away from the combat, as quickly as his waddling frame would allow.
In an instant Kaira was on her feet, with another assailant rushing towards her. She swung high, but he ducked, impossibly fast, and hit her in the gut. There was a dull thud as her breastplate bent inwards and she was flung back. She lost her footing, falling to one knee, the air driven from her lungs. Whilst on the ground she had just enough time to note the first of Dravos’ bodyguards was crawling silently across the chamber in search of his severed leg, before the other three were on her.
She kicked out at one, sending him sprawling back, then rolled aside. Before she could rise to her feet another blow to her shoulder sent her reeling. On instinct she turned, guessing the third assailant would be coming at her. It paid off, and her sword struck out, piercing his tunic and entering his chest through the ribcage. The warrior stared at her silently, no sign of pain or emotion. Then he grasped her sword by the hilt and pulled it from her grasp as he fell dead.
The last two bodyguards gave her no respite, running in once more as she stood unarmed. Kaira knew well the fighting arts, but whether she would be a match for these devils was another matter.
One struck in with a sequence of lightning fast punches. It was all Kaira could do to duck and dodge them. She twisted away, but found herself backed up against a pillar. The second guard came from nowhere, his arm moving almost too fast to see. Kaira danced out of range just in time, and the warrior’s fist smashed into the pillar, cracking the masonry.
Kaira brought her armoured foot down against his knee, driving him to the ground, then twisted her fingers in his hair and smashed his head into the pillar twice in quick succession. It was enough to drop him, but Kaira scarcely had a chance to revel in her victory before the final guard struck in with a flat palmed strike. His blow deflected off her gorget, catching her cheek and sending her off balance. It was like being hit with a warhammer, and only by the grace of Vorena did it not take her head off her shoulders.
She staggered, raising her arms to parry a kick which knocked her backwards. Her foot hit something and she stumbled, falling on her backside. She just had time to register she had tripped over one of the prone Sentinels, before the last warrior leapt at her, his foot aimed for the kill.
Kaira reached out, her hand grasping one of the fallen blades, then she rolled, swinging the sword round in an arc as she rose, praying silently that her aim was true.
The body hit the ground with a thump as its head bounced across the reliquary floor.
Kaira took a breath, surveying the scene of carnage, before walking purposefully to the last of the bodyguards, who had by now reached his severed leg and was staring at it with mute fixation.
Her execution blow was swift and final.
‘Impressive,’ said a voice, though it sounded far from impressed.
Kaira turned to see Azai Dravos standing at the edge of the chamber. On her knees at his side was Queen Janessa and Kaira tightened her grip on the sword held at her side.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ she demanded as she took a step towards him. ‘Have you gone mad? That is the queen of the Free States.’
Azai Dravos glanced down at Janessa and smiled. ‘Not anymore,’ he said. ‘Now she is my queen.’
‘Daemon!’ Kaira spat, raising her weapon and advancing on him. But as she glared with hate at the man she suddenly slowed. Caught in those green eyes of his, Kaira no longer wanted to do him harm. In fact she found herself feeling better disposed to him with every passing breath.
‘Not quite a daemon,’ said Dravos. ‘But I do have certain talents. Talents that have allowed me to break your young queen’s spirit. I would have preferred to persuade her the old-fashioned way. I find coercion so much less stressful to my faculties, but it appears she is strong willed. Though, not quite strong willed enough. She is with child, you know. And out of wedlock.’ He shook his head admonishingly. ‘I imagine that would normally cause all kinds of problems, but I have a solution to that particular quandary don’t I, my dear.’
He patted Janessa affectionately on the head. For such an insult Kaira should have run the bastard through, but instead she lowered her sword to her side.
This was witchcraft, pure and simple. This man was a sorcerer of some considerable power and he now had her under his spell as well as the queen. There was little Kaira could do.
Or was there? Could she dig deep for the strength to resist him? Could she call on powers that were greater than his?
‘You will never get away with this,’ Kaira said.
For I am the spear hand of Vorena.
Dravos only smiled. ‘Oh, but I already have. You see she is quite under my spell. As are you. But don’t feel bad. You won’t suffer for long.’
She is my courage in the darkness. A bright flame. A beacon for the lost.
Kaira felt her hand loosen on the blade until finally she let it fall, clattering to the floor. Dravos walked forward, staring all the while with those green eyes. She was forced to return the gaze, no longer in control of her body, but there was some part of her mind still free.
; In her service I am resolute of thought and purpose.
From his robes, Dravos pulled a wickedly curved dagger. ‘It seems such a waste,’ he said holding it up. ‘But it will cost me dearly to keep your queen in check. I can hardly go about controlling the both of you. It’s a very complicated business, but I won’t bore you with the details.’
A defender of the weak, an instrument of righteousness honed and tempered in battle, ready to strike down the enemies of my gods and my king.
Dravos ran the blade down her cheek, and Kaira was powerless to stop it. She could feel a trickle of blood run down to her chin, dripping onto her gorget.
In that moment she knew her death was imminent, and she summoned up the will for one last defiant act.
‘Vorena is strength,’ she spat.
Azai Dravos raised his eyebrows, then burst out laughing.
And for the briefest of moments his eyes blinked.
Kaira’s fist snapped out, hitting him square in the face and bursting his nose. He fell onto his back and she didn’t hesitate, stooping to pick up the fallen sword and raising it for a killing blow. As it swept down to cut Dravos in two he mumbled something beneath his breath. In a burst of green dust he was gone, just as her blade struck the empty floor.
The sword was still ringing in her grip as Kaira stared, unable to believe what she had just seen. Then something struck her from behind. It was a swift blow, quick but not deep, as Dravos’ dagger found a gap in her armour between breastplate and tasset. Though the cut in her hip wasn’t deep, the shock of it made Kaira cry out. She swung her sword around, but Dravos had disappeared once more, green dust the only thing to signify he had been there.
On her guard now, Kaira waited for him to reappear. This was devilry of the most heinous kind. Dravos had to be destroyed and at the first sign of him she would strike.
A figure flashed green in front of her, but before she could react Kaira felt a cut between vambrace and gauntlet. This time it was deep, striking across the back of her wrist and causing her to drop her blade once more. Before she could stoop to pick it up, Dravos appeared once more, to slice his curved blade across the back of her knee.
Kaira growled in pain, falling to the ground. This time Dravos did not disappear in a cloud of green smoke but stood staring down at her. She tried to move, tried to grab him, but with her wrist slashed and her leg wounded she could not even stand.
‘Brave indeed,’ said Dravos. ‘But futile.’
Holding her once more with that green gaze, he stepped forward brandishing his dagger.
‘Your death will be swift,’ he said, reaching towards her throat with his dagger. ‘I will allow you that mercy. And who knows, perhaps one day they will build a statue in your hon—’
A foot of steel burst from Dravos’ chest. The green light in his eyes paled and a look of confusion crossed his face.
At once the glamour was broken, and Kaira could see someone standing behind him. Someone brandishing the sacred sword – the Helsbayn.
In a single swift move, Janessa pulled the blade from Dravos’ back and swung hard, slicing his head from his shoulders with ease. Body and head toppled to the ground.
For a long moment the queen stared down at the sorcerer, hate in her eyes, then she spat on his body.
Her shoulders suddenly sagged, and Janessa fell to her knees beside Kaira.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
It pained Kaira to hear the words.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘This is my fault. Majesty, forgive me.’
Somewhere in the background, Durket managed to heave himself to his feet and scramble off as fast as his girth would allow.
‘What he said was true,’ sobbed Janessa. ‘I am with child. I am lost.’
Janessa’s tears were coming fast now, her sobs heavy and yet she still clung to the hilt of the Helsbayn.
Kaira gently took the sword from her grip. There should have been some propriety, some boundary of respect, but Kaira saw only a girl now, not a queen. A child whose life had been threatened, and not for the first time. A young woman who not only carried the weight of a kingdom, but also an unborn child, and with no mother, father or husband to help her carry her burden.
Despite the pain in her wrist, her face, her knee, Kaira put her arms around Janessa and held her close.
‘You are not lost, child. I am here.’
She held Janessa there until Odaka eventually came rushing into the reliquary, accompanied by a dozen Sentinels. He surveyed the corpses within the chamber for the briefest of moments, then knelt beside the queen.
‘Majesty, Chancellor Durket told me what happened. I am truly sorry; I should have predicted something like this. I should have been here.’
Janessa wiped her eyes then climbed to her feet. ‘No, Odaka. The blame is mine.’
Kaira struggled to her feet too, helped by two of her brother Sentinels. ‘I apologise, Odaka. I should have been by her Majesty’s side. The blame for this is entirely mine.’
Odaka regarded the corpses of Dravos and his men. ‘It seems you were here just in time. Your wounds require attention. I will see that this mess is cleared up.’
As the Sentinels helped her from the reliquary, Kaira cast one last look at Statton and Waldin, lying silent and still on the ground. They had been serving here because of her dereliction of duty, and the burden of that suddenly stung as deeply as the cuts to her flesh.
Back at the barracks the palace surgeon tended her wounds. Kaira said nothing as her wrist, knee and thigh were bound and the cut to her face was cleaned. None of the wounds was particularly deep, though she would be useless with a sword for a few days, and could well be limping a while longer. Nonetheless, she was desperate to fulfil her duties.
She had let down Queen Janessa. Whilst trying to save Merrick from himself.
Well, no more. Kaira had risked enough pandering to the man’s moods and remorse. She had failed miserably in her duty to others. From now on Merrick Ryder could look after himself.
As she had expected, once dawn broke she and Merrick were summoned by Captain Garret. He was seething with rage.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘Where were you? It was supposed to be you two on duty.’
Merrick glanced towards her. She knew she should have confessed, but somehow she still felt loyal to him.
‘It was my fault,’ Kaira began. ‘I should—’
‘No,’ said Merrick. ‘It was my fault. I left the barracks and Kaira came to find me. I was getting—’
‘Enough!’ Garret interrupted. ‘I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter anyway. If I weren’t so short of men I’d have you both flogged and thrown on the streets. And you.’ Garret was standing in front of Merrick now, their noses almost touching. ‘I’ve been far too lenient with you. I let you treat this like a fucking country jaunt and you’ve taken the piss once too often. You need to think, lad. Think whether you want to stay or not, and if you don’t you can be on your merry way.’
‘I do want to stay,’ Merrick replied without hesitation. ‘I know that now. I have a duty to perform. Now more than ever.’
This seemed to calm Garret somewhat. ‘Very well. But that’s your last chance.’ He waved his hand. ‘You’re both dismissed.’
‘Waldin and Statton?’ Kaira asked, before they left. ‘How are they?’
Garret looked grave. ‘Waldin hasn’t regained consciousness.’ Then he paused, as if unable to say more.
‘And Statton?’
Garret merely shook his head.
Kaira clenched her fists as she turned to leave. They walked back across the courtyard and Merrick began to speak.
‘Look, I’m sorry—’
‘Save it,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not interested.’
‘But—’
She rounded on him, her fists balled, ready to fight him again, despite the aches and pains that wracked her body.
‘We are finished, Ryder. Garret is giving us a last chance to redeem our
honour. Together we will carry out our duties to protect the queen. Other than that, you do not exist to me. Is that understood?’
She left him standing in the courtyard without waiting for a reply.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Magistra Gelredida hadn’t seemed at all perturbed by Waylian’s setbacks on the streets of Northgate. It was almost as though she’d expected it. But instead of scolding him for his incompetence, she merely gave him another task to do.
He’d told her about the orphanage and the children forced into labour by Fletcher. She’d seemed unconcerned by their plight and more interested in Milius the apothecary. Waylian had been dreading telling her what happened; that he’d fled into the night rather than be murdered by some bastard poisoner, but it was as though she knew what would happen.
‘Never mind,’ she’d said. ‘These things are to be expected.’
These things are to be expected?
A few short weeks ago, had Waylian told the Red Witch he had failed in one of her assigned errands, he would have been on privy duty for a month. He was beginning to wonder who this woman was he’d found on his return from the Kriega Mountains. She showed tolerance, understanding, and was even measured in her assessment of him.
But then, Waylian had changed as well. He was stronger, more determined … brave even? With the coming of war everyone had to change. Perhaps Gelredida had changed most of all.
This was a perilous time and if she did not find some way of persuading the Archmasters to join in the fight then the city might well be lost. How Waylian was helping with any of this was a mystery, but who was he to argue with the Magistra?
He sat at his desk. It was an all too brief respite before he was to be sent out on his next task, and Waylian coveted every moment to himself. On the desk was a book and a piece of parchment. He fingered the small square of paper, looking at the addresses written there. Gelredida had told him this was his next task – travel to the Trades Quarter, find Josiah Klumm and take him to the safe house written on the reverse of the note.
