Alfric grimaced. "Edric, I don't want to pick another fight with you, but you really shouldn't believe everything that woman tells you. We're not all here by choice. Malgyne stokes the fires of my malice when he remembers to, but at other times I can try to be the man you always wanted me to be; the man I want to be. And I have tried Edric, I truly have. That's why I let you escape last time we met, and that's why I'm helping you now."
I wanted to believe him, I really did. Unfortunately, Alfric knew that.
"Then why run? Why send those others to kill my friends?"
Alfric's hands came up in frustration. "I ran because I panicked when I saw those creatures that intervened last time. As for your friends, I've seen what they can do. And I've not sent those idiots out to kill your allies. I've sent them out so your friends can dispatch them quickly and neatly."
"Let's assume I believe you," I said warily. "What next?"
I needed to figure this out quickly. I assumed Arianwyn and the others were winning their fight. If they weren't, my chances would hit a downward spiral. There was a trap here, there had to be...
"Kill me," Alfric said quietly.
That one took me by surprise. "Kill you?"
"What I said earlier about the pain? It's all true, Edric. It's supposed to keep me in line, but instead it gave me reason to resist. But it hurts; it hurts in a way that you can't imagine." He stepped closer, his voice pleading. "End it for me, please, before he notices me again. As soon as he does, he'll make me stop you."
"I... I can't."
"Don't be pathetic," Alfric snapped. "You were fit and ready to do it a moment ago. In fact, you were happy enough to do it six months ago. Nothing's different."
"Everything's different." Could he not see that?
"I'm not even alive, not really. I'm a puppet with delusions of grandeur. You're my brother, Edric. Will you not do this one thing for me?"
Put like that, I really had no choice. I nodded.
"Thank you," Alfric said. "Quick and clean?"
"Quick and clean," I said, with a catch in my throat.
"Good. And when you're done, go down two floors and three rooms across. Repeat it."
"Two down and three across," I echoed. "Why?"
"You'll see," Alfric said with a small smile. "Now, get it over with. Goodbye brother, we'll not meet again."
"Goodbye," I said. "Ashana preserve you from whatever comes next."
I did it then, before I could second-guess my course. It was a clean thrust, straight through Alfric's heart, if indeed he had one. He didn't cry out, not then, and not when I twisted the blade free.
"Tell Elandra I'm sorry," he breathed. Then he pitched forward and spoke no more.
Thirteen
One moment the doors stood firm. The next they were nothing but shattered and splintered wreckage, and two lion guardians were in the room. Morecet was next through the door, an arrow nocked to his bow.
Arianwyn followed. She picked her way around the fallen Alfric had slain – one of whom had, post mortem, been further mangled during the lions' dramatic entrance – and knelt at my side. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. I saw from her eyes that she understood. The fact she hadn't chastised me for running into danger spoke volumes.
Wordlessly, Arianwyn raised me to my feet. Over her shoulder I glimpsed the ruin of the council chamber. Alfric and I had left it practically untouched, but it was now a shambolic, blood-stained mess. The fallen Alfric had sent to waylay my friends had put up a real fight. They hadn't had a chance, just as Alfric had intended. If Alfric's last words had been any more truthful than any others he'd spoken, that was.
I took two trembling paces towards the door, and stopped.
"Edric, what happened?" Arianwyn asked, too quietly for Morecet to hear.
I felt sad; sad and desperately weary. "I killed him. He saved my life, and then I killed him."
I hadn't intended to say anything else, but as soon as I started speaking, the whole lot came tumbling out. I suspect I made little sense, as I couldn't quite recall the sequence of events and I'm sure I repeated Alfric's last request three times. Nevertheless, Arianwyn listened carefully and let me tell the story in my own time. I suspect Constans listened too, though he never showed any sign. I didn't care either way.
"Will you be alright?" Arianwyn asked, concern in her eyes.
I took a deep breath. I was still weary, but I'd stopped shaking. "Yes."
Arianwyn looked at me appraisingly. She wasn't convinced.
"I'll be fine," I said, firmer this time. "I just needed a moment."
Arianwyn's expression changed not one whit. There was no arguing with that stare. "It was harder this time round, much harder. Last time, I hated him. This time... well... this time I don't know how I felt. I want to keep hating him, but I can't, somehow."
Arianwyn put her hand on my arm. "Last time you hadn't seen the man beneath the cruelty. Otherworld gave you a glimpse of that. It's not surprising you're mixed up about it."
"His last words were of his wife, did I tell you? He wanted me to apologise for him."
"You told me." Arianwyn raised her hand to my cheek. Again she took my measure and seemed happier with what she saw this time. "We have to go."
"I know."
*******
We left Alfric where he lay, and went in search of the room he'd mentioned. Or rather Constans, Arianwyn and I did. Morecet grew vexed at the delay, so I saw little harm in setting him loose to investigate for himself. Alfric's group aside, we'd seen no evidence of fallen elsewhere in the palace. Even if the building were not so bereft of enemies as it seemed, I had every faith Morecet could look after himself. I doubt I'd have risked Arianwyn or Constans in that manner, but I hardly knew Morecet and had little reason to trust a man who'd changed loyalties from Solomon to us at the mere promise of coin.
When my companions – less Morecet – finally reached the room we sought, outward appearances gave little hint of what lay hidden within. I tried the door, but found it locked. Constans squatted in front of the keyhole and set to work with his lock picks. Remembering the tedium of him wrestling with the constabulary gate a few days ago, I reached down and pressed the set of skeleton keys into his hand.
Constans gave me an offended glance. "You're sure this is the door?"
"Two floors down, three along," I confirmed.
"Then why is it locked?"
"I don't know."
"Your brother might have told you where the key was," Constans complained, then looked abashed as Arianwyn kicked him none-too-gently in the leg. "Sorry. Even by my standards, that was thoughtless."
"It doesn't matter," I said, and realised it was true. That first flush of grief had faded. I didn't doubt that it would be back, but there were things needed doing in the meantime. A thought struck me. "He might have had the key on him. Do you want me to go back and check?"
Constans muttered something I took to mean 'no', and continued fiddling with the lock. A few moments later, Morecet ghosted silently around the corner.
"Any success with the tunnel?" I asked.
Morecet shook his head. "I found it easily enough, but they've collapsed it."
I sighed. "It had to be tried."
"We've lost nothing by the attempt." Morecet switched his attention to Constans. "Is he still fiddling with that door?"
There was a clunk and the door swung open.
"No," said Constans with an air of wounded pride. "He is not."
I entered the room first, sword drawn. No matter how Alfric and I had parted company, I didn't feel too trusting. He'd given me too many unwelcome surprises. As it turned out, he'd given me another one – not in the form of an ambush, but in that of a thick, coppery stench that made my stomach heave.
The room was covered in blood, so much so that I couldn't tell what function it might have served in the past. There was no furniture, just a battered assortment of broken spars of wood.
Bodies lay everywhere, in vario
us states of mutilation and decay. They were a mix of men and women, some in the soiled and ragged uniforms of praetorians or constables, others in the clothes of ordinary citizens. Some looked to have been hacked apart with an axe, others didn't have so much as a mark on them. As I took another step, I saw hooks hammered into the stonework at one end. More corpses were chained to these, their skin hanging bloodied and limp.
Arianwyn gagged. "Who'd do something like this?"
"Any one of the fallen, I'd guess," said Constans.
He gave a small cry as one of his feet shot out from under him. Morecet caught him and hauled him upright. "Don't look down."
Constans kept his eyes fixed rigidly ahead.
"This wasn't just any fallen." I moved to one of the bodies chained to the wall and peered as closely at it as I dared. My mouth soured. "This was my brother's work. After he died, we found a dungeon beneath the royal palace that looked just like this. It was reserved for traitors of a... special kind."
"I'm surprised he found the time to indulge himself," said Constans. "I mean, what with the conquering of the city and all."
"I doubt Alfric was much involved with any of that," I replied bitterly. "He was never one for fighting those who fought back."
"Why was it so important that you come here?" Arianwyn asked.
"I don't know. Maybe he wanted to remind me why he deserved to die. Maybe anything..." I shook my head. "There's no need for you to wait. The rest of us can look."
"No. I'll leave when..."
Arianwyn gasped as one of the chained bodies – the furthest one from the door by which we'd entered – moved. It was a man, naked to the waist, his arms pulled taut above his head by the chains that bound him, his back and shoulders a welter of dark wounds. His hair was matted with goodness knew what. He tried to speak, but a leather gag was buckled tight across his mouth.
In frustration, the man pulled at his chains that bound him, but all he achieved was to have the metal cuffs dig into his wrists. I hastened to his side, and saw that his wrists were raw from previous struggles.
"Constans, I need the keys," I said tersely.
Constans threw them across the room. I caught them deftly and in a few moments had the prisoner free of both his chains and gag.
"Thank you, my prince," he breathed.
It was Jamar. Battered and bloody, but alive.
In that instant my lingering shreds of guilt and grief were dispelled. Finding Jamar alive was about the best fortune I could have hoped for. Judging by the broad grin on Arianwyn's face, and Constans' wild laughter, it appeared the effect on my companions was no less profound. Only Morecet looked on without any joyful reaction, but then who was Jamar to Morecet except competition?
A brief examination of a nearby kitchen turned up a water butte. Arianwyn and I stayed with Jamar. Constans and Morecet wandered off without explanation. I was pretty sure one of them didn't trust the other, but which was which, I had no idea.
Jamar listened with grim approval as I told him of the alliance, and the chaotic battle before the walls. He was less than enamoured of the current stalemate along the Estrina, but then none of us were happy about that.
Jamar's story was simpler. He and Zorya had been overwhelmed. However, instead of being killed immediately, Jamar had been brought before Alfric and slung into his torture chambers with the other captives. Although Alfric had in no way avoided indulging his cruel pleasures on Jamar, it seemed he'd deliberately held back from anything fatal.
"It was as if he wasn't sure why he kept me alive," said Jamar. "I heard him arguing with himself many times. Each time the part that wanted me alive won, he'd take it out on one of the other captives. I don't question that I owe him my life, but I'm not altogether sure that I should thank him for it."
I told Jamar of my final conversation with Alfric, and he nodded. "Do you think his darker deeds were Malgyne's doing?"
"I don't know. I'd like to believe it, but..."
Jamar nodded in agreement. "There are many unknowns, and I doubt we'll ever learn the truth. At least if we can't know the true character of the man your brother was, we can learn from his deeds, good and ill."
"What about Zorya?" asked Arianwyn. "What became of her?"
Jamar looked embarrassed. "It is to my great shame that I can't tell you, savim. I remember nothing of the latter part of the fight. I have not seen her since."
Judging by the look on Jamar's face, he found his answer more painful than any of his wounds.
Arianwyn picked up on him shame at once. "It's not your fault. Zorya chose her fate, and you've already done much to try to help her avoid it."
Her kindly tone couldn't hide her disappointment. Finding Jamar alive had awoken a hope that Zorya wasn't beyond salvation. Jamar's words had dashed those hopes, and for Arianwyn it would be like having lost her all over again.
Constans and Morecet returned. They'd not been able to find Jamar's armour, but Constans had unearthed a tunic from somewhere, as well as a leather breastplate.
"I know you planned to die in your own garb," he said, "but I really must draw the line against fighting alongside a man so improperly dressed as yourself. Even I have standards."
Morecet rolled his eyes, but Jamar smiled. "Then I shall cling to life as tightly as I can. Thank you, my friend. I don't suppose you've a weapon for me?"
"As if I'd forget the most important part," said Constans. He shook his head, mock-sadly. He tossed Jamar a scabbarded short sword. "It's a little smaller than you prefer, but I'm sure it'll do."
Morecet cleared his throat. "This is all very touching, I'm sure. However, I seem to remember something about time being precious. The tunnel's not going to help us much, so hadn't we better figure something else out?"
He was correct, of course. Annoying, but correct.
"What about the outlet gate near the cathedral?" Arianwyn asked. "That'd take us to the heart of where we need to go."
Constans shook his head. "That grate is right on the edge of the cliff. Admittedly, there's a stairway leading onto the street, but if the fallen noticed us we'd be fighting overwhelming numbers with a long drop behind us."
"What if Torev launched a concerted attack?" I asked. "That'd surely draw the fallen away from the cathedral."
"Perhaps," Morecet agreed, "but it's a gamble."
"Is there truly no other way?" asked Jamar, buckling his new sword belt about his waist.
"No," Constans replied. "Not unless any of us can fly." He shrugged. "We've some fairly eclectic talents between us, but I don't think we can run to that."
The others debated for a time, but they were just rehashing options we'd already discussed. There simply wasn't another way. But it occurred to me that one of those plans might just work, albeit with a small but potent alteration.
"What if we already had an ally in the square?" I asked, cutting through the other voices.
Everyone stared at me. Arianwyn and Jamar looked puzzled, Morecet frowned, but Constans? He understood what I meant.
He grinned. "I like that. I like that a lot." The looks of puzzlement switched from me to him.
"Do you think it'll work?"
"It should. Assuming it does, it'll take more than the five..." He glanced at the guardians. "...the seven of us."
"Would one of you mind telling me what's going on?" Arianwyn asked impatiently.
I ignored her. The excitement of the idea was buzzing in my brain, and it was suddenly very important to get all of the pieces in place as quickly as possible. I grabbed Morecet's shoulders.
"Get back to the gate," I said. "Find Calda, Torev, anyone. Get them to send some troops to the cathedral outlet. We'll meet you there."
Morecet twisted free. "I'm supposed to keep you alive, remember?"
"Then hurry. There's not much time, and without those extra swords, I'll be dead and you'll never see your money."
Morecet didn't move, but looked at me like the victim of some elaborate trick. After a moment, his gaze s
hifted to Arianwyn, who spread her hands in helplessness. Constans was still grinning. Jamar looked on stoically. Finally, Morecet's eyes came back to mine. He nodded, and left the room at a brisk pace.
"What's going on?" Arianwyn asked, with fraying patience.
"It's a surprise," I said. "You'll like it."
Arianwyn turned to Jamar with exasperation. "Was he always this annoying and I didn't notice?"
Jamar shook his head. "Not at all. I assume it's your influence."
That can't have been true – my recalcitrance had annoyed him plenty in recent months. Then I belatedly realised he was needling Arianwyn – a subtle but certain sign of acceptance.
"Thanks," Arianwyn turned her gaze on me. "Am I at least allowed to know where we're going next?"
"Of course," I said. "We're going north." I fished in my pocket and retrieved a small bundle. I held it out to Jamar. "This, I believe, is yours. I'm glad that I shan't be needing it."
Jamar took the pouch, removed his remembrance ring, and slipped the slender band of silver onto his index finger. He smiled. "I'm glad too. Let us hope it does not find itself in your possession again by the day's end." He slipped the pouch, and the two rings it still held, inside his clothing. From his manner, you'd never know how he'd suffered so terribly.
*******
We made the journey from the palace over ground, not resorting to the sewers. Constans assured me again that the fallen were scarcely active in the northern part of the city. Besides, the sewers were vital to the next stage of my plan, and I didn't want to risk drawing our enemies' attention to them if it could be at all avoided.
Fortunately, it seemed Constans was correct in his assessment of the danger. We only saw one small patrol, and these we quickly overcame before they had any chance to raise the alarm. I'd have liked to have avoided them entirely if I could, but they'd emerged from the mist practically on top of us. At least the skirmish gave me a chance to see how Jamar's wounds had affected his fighting ability. As it transpired, they had done so not at all – or at least his desire for revenge lent him compensatory strength.
We soon reached our destination – the Lionhead bridge. It was eerily quiet. The harbour below, normally bustling with merchantmen and sailors, was still and silent. I asked Arianwyn to send the guardians out ahead. Unless I missed my guess, we'd find a barricade here much like the one we'd fought behind at the Estrina, and I didn't want to be used for misguided target practice by a jumpy defender.
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 49
