Birthright

by L. Fergus

  Knowing she couldn’t savor her triumph, Kita searched for targets. The flow of men through the door had ceased. It appeared all the pieces were on the chessboard. The only problem—white pawns exceeded the number of black pawns. She picked off Cunningham’s soldiers as fast as she could. Let’s show them why the queen is the most powerful piece on the board.

  An old man with a long white beard wearing nothing but a loincloth hobbled through the door. He must be with Cunningham’s men, but what’s he doing? He’s not a soldier.

  An orange glow surrounded the man, and he melded with the wooden floor. It grabbed Merax’s men’s feet, holding them fast. Wooden spikes thrust upward. They knocked over and impaled Merax’s men. The duchess fired at the old man, but a thick wooden wall grew from the floor to block her shot.

  Kita frowned. Somehow the old man, now blind to the action, was able to continue his attack. How can he see? Does he sense through the wood he’s connected with? Connected…Hmm…

  Kita drew a metal-shafted arrow she carried. They had short flight times but did have excellent penetration, with barbs that opened after hitting the target. I need to be on a surface where he can’t detect me. She darted to the fireplace and climbed onto the stone mantel.

  It would be a long shot for the arrow, almost half the length of the hall, but she wasn’t trying to hit an apple, just an old man rooted to the floor. She nocked the arrow and pulled the fletching past her ear. Aiming high, she let the arrow fly.

  As the arrow traveled, it whistled and left a white streak. The wooden shield shattered from the impact. Its barbs opened as it slammed into the old man’s chest. The force tore him from the floor and ripped through his chest. Oops, ha-ha! Mother wasn’t kidding about power.

  The floor released its grip on Merax’s men, and the wooden spikes receded. With the shapers defeated, Merax and his men, with the help of Kita and her party, pushed back the enemy. As the last man fell to the duchess’ arrow, Kita counted six knights and soldiers in fighting condition. We might as well have lost.

  The rhythmic pounding on the front gate reminded Kita there was little time to mourn the dead or care for the wounded. Finding the duke remained the paramount concern.

  The group made the short trip to the towering main gate constructed of massive stone blocks. How they were placed was a mystery. Within the gate’s walls were numerous arrow slits, machicolations to pour boiling liquid—or drop rocks, if desperate—and other defense mechanisms. The double portcullis and the massive metal-reinforced gates separated the bailey and keep from the invaders and the village below.

  As Merax rallied the men, Kita took a head count—less than fifty knights and soldiers. Versus how many? Father’s field army contains almost a thousand. Cunningham has at least that. Fifty versus a thousand, how can they stop that many? Maybe we can hold out until Jeffrey returns or maybe a quick strike at Cunningham’s commanders…

  The knights seemed uneasy. The firelight reflecting off the metal armor seemed to magnify everyone’s facial expressions. Or maybe it’s the situation.

  The duchess returned, looking hopeful. “The duke was here but left for the other towers to rally the men. Sir Merax and his men will stay here while the rest of us find the duke—”

  “I think I’ll stay and help. You don’t need us,” said Kita.

  A few emotions crossed the duchess’ face before settling on stern. “I’m sorry, Kita, but you have to come.”

  “But—”

  “Kita, we’re not staying. Those men are here to buy us time to find a way out of the castle.”

  Kita’s mouth fell open. But…No! This is home. That makes no sense. “Why waste the men? Wouldn’t it be better for us all to try and escape?”

  “It would be too hard to move this many people, even if we did know where to go.” The duchess’ tone softened, “Their lives won’t be wasted. It’s their job, duty, and honor to protect us, so that we may serve, protect, and provide for them, their families, and the rest of the estate. Without us, they have nothing. If we’re killed, their sacrifice will be in vain. For them to succeed, we must survive. We’re going to find your father and find a way out. Once we’re free, we will come back to reclaim what is ours.”

  Kita nodded. She couldn’t argue the logic.

  “Hurry—we go to the large tower first,” said the duchess.

  Kita broke into a trot. Is this what Jeffrey was taught about governing? I know my soldiers will be more than pawns to be wasted when it’s my turn. I pray I may never have to govern. Even thinking about it made her head hurt. She wasn’t sure how anyone could do it. Then again, many idle-minded fools do it every day. Maybe that’s the secret. You either had to be a genius to get it right or too stupid to know you weren’t. So, which am I?

  Kita led the way to the large tower, keeping to the shadows. It housed the largest garrison and connected to the other towers via ramparts. Moving silently down the narrow stone pathways between the ramparts required watching where she stepped; workers left their tools along the path. On both sides, tall stone walls rose upward. Any sound echoed through the man-made canyons. Behind her, the rest of the group followed at a distance, failing to move quietly. They might as well have bells on.

  She stopped to check an intersection and saw a soldier fighting three of Cunningham’s men. A blow knocked the helmet from the gallant soldier. Petersen! Kita checked an impulse to help him, her mother’s words coming back to her. Good luck, Petersen. I promise when I’m in charge I won’t leave any friends behind.

  Kita reached the last intersection before the large tower. The path on the left led to the chapel. Built during a burst of religious expansionism, the builders squeezed the small building in between the keep, the large tower, and a warehouse.

  Distorted voices bounced off the stone walls. She waved the others to stop while she crept up to the corner. Maybe Father found more men, or maybe they were just a group unsure what to do. To her disappointment, they talked about orders to take the keep. She ventured a quick peek around the corner.

  The width of the passageway could accommodate four men abreast. She counted eight enemy soldiers in three groups. An enormous barbarian came through the stone arch from the chapel courtyard. The barbarian’s size nearly matched Zidin’s. He wore a crude patchwork wrap of animal hide with a large codpiece. Skulls and bone held together by leather straps forged crude armor. He held a sword made from bone. In the other hand, he held the duke by the neck. The more the duke struggled, the more the barbarian laughed.

  “Let him go!” Kita yelled. Dammit, if anyone is going to kill him, it’s going to be me. The barbarian stopped, but refused to drop his toy.

  Kita sprinted down the passageway toward the first group of soldiers. She barely heard the others telling her to wait. The first two enemy soldiers reacted slowly. Kita slashed her way past them. The second group stood ready to block with their shields.

  Kita took two steps up the side of the wall and launched herself sideways over the stunned group. Her nimble leap was punctuated by three precise slashes to the necks of each man. She performed a graceful turn in the air, bounced off the opposite wall, landed, rolled, and returned to her feet at a sprint.

  The last group of three soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder with shields forward. The two on the outside kept their weapons ready. The man in the middle showed a veteran’s resolve and raised his sword above his head. The others tried to imitate him, but their eyes gave them away. Let’s find out what happens when the crutch is removed. With a quick flick of the wrist, Kita threw Dusk. The curved blade struck the middle man in the eye.

  He fell over as his comrades recoiled in shock. Kita performed a set of handsprings, passing between the pair. She flew over Dusk and withdrew it from its resting place. She landed on her knees and slashed the soldiers across the back of the legs. Kita caught her breath. She wasn’t berserking but wished she was.

  Standing, she lowered her swords and glared at the barbarian standing in the center of t
he small courtyard.

  In a voice like gravel being ground to dust he called out to her, “Impressive, assassin.”

  Kita’s glare intensified.

  “I know your kind. I can smell you like a wolf digs out a rat. You hide in the shadows, lurking and waiting to ambush, like a cowardly ravager. Pathetic.” The barbarian spit on the ground in front of Kita and let out a deep, dark laugh that echoed off the walls. “You’re diseased curs needing to be culled from the herd. I keep a collection of those I’ve exterminated. Their tiny decorative brands are making me an excellent codpiece. Face me. This noble fool at least had the honor to fight me in proper battle.” The barbarian lifted the duke above his head and shook him.

  Kita’s anger rose as the fear tingled in her toes. Was Sarah among those he’d hunted? She wasn’t sure she could handle finding her brand with the others. This fool is going to die slowly.

  Kita stepped from the shadows. In a voice colder than the Frozen North, she said, “Let. Him. Go.”

  The barbarian laughed so hard the walls shook. Kita’s eyes blazed with the fury of dying suns.

  “This? This is the best you have, nobleman? A little girl? Is your army so pathetic you send a baby girl to do a man’s job? She’s not even a proper warrior. An annoying bitch assassin roach, which I’ll happily grind into the dirt.” The barbarian stamped his feet and beat his chest with his free hand.

  He is enjoying his bravado. What should I remove first?

  As the duke struggled for air, he spoke to the barbarian in a raspy voice, “She’s a monster. She’ll suck your honor into her black heart and destroy it, leaving your soul dry and spirit crushed. Death will be a release. Look into my eyes and see your future.”

  The barbarian sneered at the duke, but a momentary look of uncertainty crossed his face.

  After all that’s happened, that’s what I am to him, a monster? A creature to be feared and loathed? As much as I’d love to leave him to rot and die, even monsters have parents. “Last chance, bonehead,” Kita announced. “Let him go and see if you’re man enough to take on a force of nature.”

  “Little girl, if you want this cowardly mouse, you can have him.” The barbarian plunged his sword through the duke’s stomach, twisting so the duke hung on the tip. He thrust the sword toward Kita, and with a wrist flip, dumped the duke at Kita’s feet. From the edge of the courtyard, the duchess cried out.

  Fury engulfed Kita—mind, body, and soul. Along with the rage came something new, an oily-black hatred flowed through and around her. Her fury burned even brighter. Her thoughts gave way to the fire and the oil. Only the raging inferno remained.

  The barbarian grinned as Kita stepped over the duke’s body. She struck with a speed and ferocity the barbarian was unprepared for, but he recovered and parried. As they exchanged strikes, his powerful blows made attacks difficult, putting Kita on the defense. A heavy swing sent her flying across the courtyard, crashing through a bench and into the courtyard wall.

  Kita bounced to her feet like nothing happened. The smile on her face caused the barbarian to pause. She raised a finger, beckoning him.

  “Kita, stop! He’s a Mongulesian,” Zidin yelled.

  Kita attacked and was thrown back, landing in a heap. A calmness overtook her as time ratcheted down. The barbarian charged. Kita studied the way he moved, watched his chest expand and contract, listened to his heartbeat, while each thundering footfall brought him closer. She attacked, her body knowing what to do. Every time he blocked or she missed, her strength, agility, and perception increased.

  The barbarian moved at a fraction of normal speed. Kita ignored the blood and didn’t feel the pain. She wanted to make the barbarian suffer for eternity. Fear is power.

  The muscles in her body tensed and released. She drew in a breath and ran at the barbarian, soaring over his head in a full layout shattering the skulls on the giant’s shoulders with Dusk and Dawn. Kita landed and the giant skull on his chest exploded as she attacked from every side before the barbarian could react. Multiple pairs of deep gashes lined his chest.

  “You’re not human or animal,” the barbarian cried in fear. “You’re what the nobleman said—a demon!”

  Kita moved around him, toying with her prey. She slammed the flat of her swords against the sides of his skull helmet shattering the bone and driving splinters into his eyes.

  She slashed the barbarian’s wrists. The bone sword fell as he howled in pain. She sliced through his Achilles’ tendons and the barbarian fell forward, but a teeth-shattering kick to the jaw twisted his trajectory. He landed sprawled on his back.

  Kita pulled each arm out to the side and pinned them to the ground with her swords. She stepped onto the giant’s heaving chest, holding his sword.

  “This is what death sounds like, little mouse.” The barbarian gurgled around blood and broken teeth. “Kill me quickly. I’m not an animal. I’ll already go to my ancestors with my honor chipped away like flint pieces. Let me have what’s left.”

  Kita’s stony face eroded to a vicious smile. She leaned close to his ear and whispered, “I have heard death nearly two thousand times. You’re going to die, my large friend, but not today. Not tomorrow, but many years from now. You will be helpless like a baby. I left you your tongue, so you can tell your pitiful tale. You have your ears, so you can hear the pity, insults, and indignities. You will not need this.”

  Kita smashed his sword over her knee. The barbarian screamed obscenities. Stepping off him, she retrieved Dusk and carved a set of symbols into the barbarian’s forehead.

  “You’re marked for life. Nothing but natural death can take you. The nefarious people of the world will be your guardian angels. You will live a long life, devoid of your precious honor.”

  The barbarian snarled and tried to hit Kita with his free arm. She slammed her foot into his shoulder with a loud pop.

  After a brief hesitation, she retrieved the codpiece. The barbarian didn’t lie. It was made of pieces of human skin marked with the unmistakable brands of assassins. She studied them, but to her relief she recognized none. She threw it into a flaming pile of rubble. Let them die as they should—unknown.

  Zidin rushed to Kita and caught her as she collapsed. He carried her to a private spot in the courtyard to recover. Sitting down, he cradled her on his lap.

  Kita could barely see through the tears running down her face. I’m so tired of being blind.

  “You’re safe, Kita,” Zidin said in a gentle voice.

  Kita whispered, “He called me a monster. I’m not a monster, am I? Please tell me I’m not, Zidin.”

  “You can’t listen to your opponents’ taunts in battle. They mean nothing.”

  “Not him. My father called me a monster. He said I had a black heart and sucked the life and honor out of people.” Kita cried harder.

  “You’re not a monster. You’re a warrior. A beautiful but tormented fallen angel. You have dark gifts and talents, but I believe your intentions are good…You’re not a monster, just young and undisciplined. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell the two apart.”

  Kita laughed and sat up. She slid off his lap and leaned against his arm. “Fallen angel—I like that. It describes me well. I’m too far gone to seek redemption—but maybe absolution. Thank you, Zidin. You’re a good friend.”

  Zidin mumbled something and suggested they should go and check on the others.

  “Kita, do you know any way out of the castle from here?” Angus said when they arrived.

  Kita found his unwavering calm unnerving. “Uhm…no…” There must be a way out of here. I know every nook and cranny of the castle, and I have arrived outside the castle walls a few times, but where and how? “Wait! We can leave through the sewer system.”

  The duchess shook her head. “The sewer grate will be guarded.”

  “The current one, but not the older ones.”

  “What older ones?”

  “Mother, this castle is ancient. There are at least four generations of sewers. Gran
ted, the first two generations have either been torn out or collapsed, but the third generation is still there. They sealed it when they built the current one, but its exit was open as of ten years ago.” Glad all that time wasn’t a complete waste.

  “How do you know this?” said the duchess.

  “I kind of fell into it,” Kita said with a slight smile.

  The duke coughed, bringing everyone back to another problem.

  “Getting Father down into the sewer will be tricky. The only grate big enough will be in the maintenance building, which is back the way we came.” Kita’s enthusiasm deflated somewhat over the prospect of having to go back.

  The duchess shook her head. “We won’t be coming with you. He’ll never survive being moved and would only slow you down. The three of you will have to go without us.”

  “Mother, you…you have to come!” Kita fought to remain calm. “I won’t leave you here to die. What about what you told me earlier—having to survive, and Cunningham winning if he caught both of you?”

  “I won’t leave your father, and that’s final. You and the others will need time to escape. Cunningham will be a step closer to victory with both your father and I gone, but he won’t win until you and your brother are dead. As long as one of you lives, he’ll never win. But you have to leave to deny him that victory.”

  A calmness came over Kita about her mother. The woman’s face said she’d made up her mind.

  “Zidin, watch over her. She’s your clansman and your protectorate. Angus, I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you again, it would have been grand. Kita, you’ve been a happy surprise, and I’m thankful I’ve been able to watch you blossom. I love you, and tell your brother I love him. Don’t worry about us. I’ll buy you as much time as I can. But Kita, you will have to cut the head off the snake. Make him pay.”