by Kris A Hiatt
He looked over at Kiril, who was on her heels in her fight against Jass. Kiril was a good fighter. Especially for one with such little experience, but she was being outmatched by Jass at the moment. Kiril’s back was to him so he couldn’t see her face, but he knew there was a look of grim determination there.
“You have to decide,” Disdane told him. “If you help her, you’ll likely succeed in killing Jass and then have a chance of the two of you defeating me together. But, you’ll lose Liernin if you do. You know that. If you face me alone, you’ll die, just as she will die to Jass. You know that, just as well as I do. You can’t beat me. You’ve tried that before and lost. So which is it? Are you willing to sacrifice your lives for his?”
Treace looked between Kiril and Liernin. What Disdane had said did have some truth to it. He wasn’t confident that he could beat the man by himself. That didn’t bother him that much. He’d gladly give his life to protect Liernin. But could he give up Kiril’s life in the process? He wasn’t so sure about that one.
“Don’t listen to him,” Kiril bade him through clenched teeth, clearly working hard to keep Jass at bay. “Don’t worry about me, she’s wounded. I can beat her, you take him.”
Treace didn’t notice that Jass was wounded until then. Seeing that, he stepped forward, deciding it best to trust in Kiril. She wanted him to trust in her, so he would. He just hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
“Now,” Disdane said, not turning to face him.
Motion from the hall leading to the bedrooms on his right caught his attention. Two men rushed out to meet him, putting themselves in front of Disdane. Had Treace helped Kiril, his back would have been to the hallway and he wouldn’t have seen the two men approach. Had he made that decision, he likely would be dead.
Treace knew he’d need to dispatch of these two quickly. He just hoped Kint could hold onto his barrier for a little while longer.
He darted forward and slashed in with his left sword at the man on the left, which the man parried. He never thought he’d actually score a hit on the man. He used it to disguise his true attack, which came in the form of a thrust with his right sword, aimed for the belly of the man on the right.
The man twisted his hips at the last second and Treace’s sword slid by, leaving him in an awkward and vulnerable position.
The first man he attacked countered his move with a downward strike of his own. A grin formed on the man’s face, indicating he thought he had made a decisive stroke.
Treace twisted his body to the left and barely got his left sword back in line in time to deflect it. He never stopped twisting his body and brought his right sword around with him, swinging it hard from his right to left.
The move was meant to accomplish two things. It was supposed to make his first enemy duck back away from the attack, and then parry any attack from the second enemy that he had his back to.
It did neither.
The first man never saw the move coming and was caught in the side of the head by Treace’s sword. The grin faded instantly and the man’s eyes went dark. Since the man didn’t dodge backward like Treace had anticipated, it left Treace’s flank exposed.
He tried to twist back to his right as fast as he could, but his right sword was lodged in the man’s head, preventing him from moving quickly enough.
Searing pain erupted in Treace’s back, near to his right side, just above his kidney.
“Die, Wolf, die,” the man said as he pushed in hard with his sword.
Smith’s armor was strong, but even it couldn’t prevent the sword thrust from penetrating deep into Treace’s side. It did stop the sword from exiting on the other side, however, and when Treace did finally make his turn, the man was pulled off balance as his sword was stuck in Treace’s armor.
Treace ignored the man’s words and let go of his right sword, continuing to twist. He brought his left sword up and around as he moved. His opponent’s sword was still stuck in his back and the pain was agonizing, but he kept twisting, stepping out with his left foot to give him balance for his strike.
Up and over the sword went, arcing down and finding purchase in the man’s shoulder, biting deep into flesh. The man went to his knees under the weight of the blow but didn’t fall.
Treace turned again, slowly this time, and stepped away, pulling the sword free from his back. He faced Disdane, thinking the large man may seize the opportunity to end him then and there.
He wished that was the case.
Kint’s barrier flickered and then fell away.
The pain in his back was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the pain that he felt as he helplessly watched Disdane’s sword plunge deep into Liernin’s back. He tried to curse Disdane then, but only jumbled words came out.
Kiril cursed at Disdane and parried another attack from Jass, but she too looked dumbstruck.
Treace’s opponent stood back up and Treace angrily slashed again with his sword, this time aiming for the man’s neck, but his attack was somehow parried at the last moment.
Treace’s previous attack had cut deep into the man’s shoulder and it was a miracle he was able to bring his sword up in time to deflect Treace’s latest move. Even though he managed to bring his sword in line in time, the man didn’t have much strength left in that arm and the sword went flying.
Treace looked back at Disdane to find the man in the process of severing Liernin’s head from his body. It only took one stroke from the man’s massive sword.
“You bastard!” Treace fumed, taking a step toward the man. He could feel every part of him being filled with anger and hate for what Disdane had done.
Treace didn’t get far before he was pulled backward. He stumbled several times but managed to catch his footing. His previous opponent didn’t have a sword any longer, but he could still move. The man had grabbed Treace by the neck of his armor and had flung him backward.
“We aren’t done,” the man said, picking his sword up with his left hand and once again placing himself protectively in front of Disdane.
“We’re about to be,” Treace promised, his anger no longer able to be controlled.
Just as Treace spoke, Disdane grabbed Liernin’s head and moved toward the exit of the room.
Treace tried to turn to cut him off, but his opponent stubbornly circled in front of him to prevent it.
Treace slashed in once, twice, and a third, all driving the man’s sword wider and wider.
He was about to thrust in behind that final stroke when the man kicked out at him, catching him in the hip. Whether the man was either very lucky or very good Treace wasn’t sure. He didn’t really care either. He’d die soon enough. And then so would Disdane.
He regained his balance and tossed his sword into his right hand, freeing his left.
He swung his sword from left to right in a backhand motion, again slapping the man’s sword wide once then twice. This time, instead of doing it a third time, as he was sure the man expected, Treace stepped in quickly as soon as his sword connected the second time. He twisted his wrist and straightened his arm in the process.
Treace’s sword plunged deep into the man’s chest before he had time to react.
“You die,” Treace spat. Whether it was the right thing to do or not didn’t matter. It was supposed to make him feel a little better. It didn’t. He normally would never say such a thing to any opponent, but he wasn’t himself then. He was angrier than he’d ever been in his life and the best decisions aren’t made when you’re angry.
Treace ripped his sword free and the man fell to the floor.
He turned his attention to the door but Disdane was already gone.
He looked to Kiril then, wanting to make sure she was still managing her fight with Jass.
His anger fell away in an instant.
Kiril laid on the floor, cradling her father in her arms. Tears streaked down her face.
He surveyed the room. Jass was gone.
He went to Kiril then, and knelt by her side. She had
several wounds about her body. There were a handful of deep gashes on her arms and he could see at least three spots about her torso where she had bled through her clothing.
“He’s gone,” Kiril sobbed.
Treace checked Kint for a pulse. She was right. He was dead. His body lie in a pool of blood, most of it his own. The stubborn old man died trying to save Liernin. He held on for so long, much longer than anyone else possibly could have, and it cost him his life.
“How’d this happen?” Kiril asked, continuing to sob.
“I don’t know,” he replied softly. He wanted to give her time, but they didn’t have it. Disdane was still alive and Shamir’s army was still outside of their front gate. There was much more work to do. “But I do know I need to get to Disdane. I’m going to put him down. I have to see this through.”
He thought she was going to protest or simply refuse to let him go, but she didn’t. She simply kissed her father on the forehead and folded his arms across his chest.
“I love you,” she said softly, caressing his cheek. “I miss you already.”
While she was doing that, Treace covered Liernin’s headless body, offering a silent apology for not being able to protect him. He then checked on Amana and Liern. Amana was also dead, but Liern was still alive. The boy’s face was a bloody pulp, but he was alive. “He’s alive, but he’ll need assistance if he’s to live. Stay with him?”
Kiril stood up slowly, barely able to keep her balance, and wiped away her tears. “I do hope he lives, but I’m coming with you. Disdane’s not getting away with this.”
Treace knew better than to try to argue with her, so instead, he tried to find The Calm to heal Liern. It took him twice as long as usual, but he still found it faster than most.
He expended as much magical energy as he dared, which wasn’t much, but he hoped it was enough to keep Liern alive.
Up until recently, Treace had never felt fatigued from using magic. Now that he knew that there was a limit to how much he could expend, he didn’t want to risk stone-facing himself or, more importantly, not have enough in reserve to be able to heal Kiril should her wounds put her in mortal danger.
He opened his eyes and checked Liern over. His pulse was much stronger, but he was still unconscious. He then lifted Liern off of the floor and carried him down the hall. He placed the boy in his own bed and covered him up. Treace took extra blankets and returned to the living room with them. He covered up the bodies so Liern wouldn’t see them when he awoke. It didn’t take long, but it took far longer than Treace wanted.
“You should let me heal you,” Kiril told him once Liern was settled in.
“We don’t have time,” Treace replied, retrieving his sword from the man’s skull.
“We did for Liern,” Kiril protested.
“You don’t have the energy. And besides, that was different,” Treace replied, hoping she’d leave it at that. He headed for the door.
As soon as they were outside, Treace heard cheers erupt from somewhere nearby. The sound was difficult to pinpoint, but he guessed it was from the courtyard. Most likely it was from Disdane showing off his newest trophy.
They trudged down the hall and down the stairs. They were holding onto each other as they went and it turned out to be slower going down the stairs than it was up, thanks to their wounds, but they eventually made it to the top of the stairs that led down to the courtyard.
Disdane was there, in the middle of the crowd, holding Liernin’s head high for all to see. His men still had control of the opening, but with far fewer numbers. The fighting had mostly subsided, there were only a few who hadn’t given up yet. Must be Disdane had been speaking for a while.
“See what remains of your baron?” Disdane called out to the crowd. “What reason do you have to fight?”
“Do you think you have enough left for one more barrier?” Treace asked Kiril. He wanted to burn Disdane alive, but he was too far away and had too many people around him. Treace wanted to be sure that he had the right person. For that, he’d need to get closer. He wasn’t certain he had the energy to do it, but he aimed to try anyway.
“As long as it’s not for very long,” Kiril replied. “What do you have in mind?”
She was clearly exhausted and in a lot of pain, but he knew just how determined she could be. “I’m going to give them back their will to fight,” he replied, trying to keep the pain he felt in his back from showing on his face.
Kiril nodded and kissed him deeply. “Come back to me.”
“Always,” he replied, though in truth his only plan was to confront Disdane in front of the men in hopes they’d be reminded that they swore an oath to fight until the very end. If they banded together they still had a chance of eradicating Disdane’s men. If that happened, maybe they could negotiate with Shamir or hold him off for a while longer. If Treace somehow managed to best Disdane, which he had his doubts when he was at full strength, let alone severely injured, he had no idea where to go from there. Disdane had numerous men around him and Treace couldn’t hope to fight them all off without the help of the rest of his men. They had to fight.
Treace looked up and to his right. The sun was finishing its descent into the mountains in the horizon. It had been covered by clouds for the entire day. Now, at sunset, it peeked out for just a moment. There was only a sliver of it left when he looked and within just a few heartbeats it had disappeared completely. With it hidden behind the mountains, light was at a premium. Treace hoped to shed a little light, courtesy of Disdane.
Treace began to walk away, knowing full well that he was walking into his own doom. After a few strides he looked back over his shoulder to his love. “When I’m nearly there,” he instructed.
Kiril nodded and wiped away more tears. Treace got the feeling that she also knew that it was the last time they’d see each other.
Chapter 30
Moffred fired another arrow over the heads of the men, striking another of Disdane’s forces. The opportunities were few and far between. He didn’t want to risk hitting his own men.
Ahead of him, Treace took down three more men with his twin swords. Kiril rushed ahead and fell one with a solid blow to the face.
“We’re useless here,” Raythien observed next to him.
“You’re always useless,” Moff replied.
“Funny,” Raythien replied. “Now ask me about my plan.”
“No,” Moff said, risking another shot but sailed it high.
“Disdane is going after Liernin,” Raythien explained anyway. “Why doesn’t someone go after Shamir?”
He did pose a good question. If Shamir could be killed before Liernin, then perhaps they could end the assault. The idea of that was pleasing to Moff on multiple levels. Too bad there were still thousands of men between them and Shamir. “That’s not as easy as you might think. There’s a matter of a few thousand men to address.”
“That or it’s not as hard as you believe it to be,” Raythien replied, turning his gaze to the ground.
Moff followed that gaze. He saw nothing of importance. The ground, once covered in snow, was now nothing more than slick mud and blood. Bodies were strewn about the field, both friend and foe.
“Those thousands wouldn’t pose as much of a threat if we looked just like them,” Raythien suggested.
“They’ll recognize you instantly,” Moff countered. The man was recently part of the other team. They wouldn’t forget his face that easily.
“I’ll wear a cloak,” came the man’s reply.
Moff didn’t immediately dismiss the idea, nor did he think it was particularly worthwhile. “If everyone else in the army is trying to get into the city, what would they think about two archers moving away from it?”
“We wouldn’t move all the way away from it. We’d just go to the back lines and then wait for him to come to us. Sooner or later he’ll try to enter the city.”
So Raythien wasn’t thinking of a preemptive strike. He was implying that they lie in wait and strik
e out when an opportunity presented itself. Whether or not Liernin lived was of no consequence to the plan. While it certainly increased the odds of success in Moff’s eyes, it did nothing to ensure Liernin’s safety. Still, there was a chance to kill Shamir.
“Stay if you want, but I’m going. At least we have a chance at making a difference if we go. From this position, we don’t,” Raythien told him.
Even though Raythien hadn’t said exactly where or how, Moff knew enough about the man to know that he had a plan. He looked back into the mess of men and couldn’t pick out a good target. An arrow narrowly missed Treace then, coming from the opposite side, and took down one of their own. His mind was already made up, but that helped solidify the decision. “Let’s go.”
They looked over the dead men and each picked a man about the same size as they were and started removing their cloaks and armor. A few others gave them curious looks as if they thought the dead men were being robbed, but said nothing.
Once they collected their new apparel, they ducked behind a building and moved a street to the south before angling toward the bay.
“We find a spot to climb up on the wall,” Raythien said, first slinging the cloak over his shoulder and then removing it.
“Sounds simple,” Moff told him. “So why the hesitation?”
“These clothes present a new problem,” Raythien explained. “If we put them on too early we risk being attacked by our own men. If we wait too long we may not get a chance to put them on at all.”
Moff didn’t see it as a problem. He saw it as an opportunity. He began to don his new clothes.
Raythien raised an eyebrow, obviously indicating he was curious to know what Moff was thinking.
“What would prove that we are part of Shamir’s forces better than being attacked by our own men?”
“That should work,” Raythien replied, putting on his clothes as he spoke. “Dangerous, maybe even foolish, but it should work.”
