Only an enemy would enter her room like this. Esther leapt forward, bringing the knife down to strike at his back, but the man turned quickly and she saw a flash of metal in his hand as he deflected her blow with a dagger of his own. He had a sword drawn in his other hand. With the extra reach that his sword gave him, there was no way she could get close enough with her dagger.
“Help! Alarm!” Esther screamed as loud as she could. “Somebody help me!”
The man just smiled and stepped forward, guarding his torso with his dagger, and swung his sword up from the side. She deflected his sword with her dagger, but the force of the blow knocked it out of her hand. He was so strong!
She couldn’t see where her dagger had gone. She turned and ran into her privy, slamming the door behind her and latching it. A half-a-second later, the door shuddered as the man’s body slammed against it. The door wasn’t made to take that kind of abuse—it was only a privacy door for the privy. It would give out in seconds.
She looked around frantically for some way out, her heart racing. There weren’t a lot of options. She walked over to the privy itself and looked down the hole. She could go there, but she had no way to know how far down the hole went, or how slippery the sides might be if she tried to wedge herself and climb down.
The door shuddered again.
She went quickly to the window and pulled it open. Snow was still falling and blew in through the opening. She looked out and could just make out the snow covered ground some eighty to a hundred feet down where the palace butted up against the mountain. The snow had drifted up against the palace and would likely help cushion her fall, but that was a long way down. The trapezoid shaped third tier of the palace had a slight slope to its wall, so she could slide down it and that might help as well. Perhaps if she took off her gown and tore it in half, then tied it to something and tried lowering herself down as much as she could before letting go, that would give her about ten to fifteen feet. She might survive the fall.
The man slammed against the door again, and this time she heard it crack. It was a wonder that it had held this long. If this were just a normal house and not a monarch’s palace, that door would have been much thinner and broken on the first impact. Time was up. She climbed up onto the window sill. The cold wind tugged at her nightgown and blew her hair across her face. She looked up and could see a cannon sticking out over the edge of the roof. She also saw brief movement up there. Cielian guardsmen must be up there manning the cannons! She called up to them frantically, afraid that the wind was too strong and would carry her voice away, but providence was with her—one of the soldiers looked down and saw her waving. His head ducked back and she hoped he was going to get a rope.
Her time ran out, however, and the door crashed open. Esther looked back at the hulking figure and pushed herself out the window. She plummeted down the side of the ice and snow encrusted wall of the palace. This was so very different than the time she’d leapt from the deck of a Madrausan warship to land in the sails of the Nautilus. She’d had a plan, and calculations, and hadn’t been carrying two additional souls in her belly. This time, all she had was hope. She tried to keep from falling forward by laying back and keeping her feet flat against the wall as she slid madly down its slope. It was just seconds and then she found herself buried in snow. She inhaled sharply at the biting cold, but shot up a brief prayer of thanks for that same snow which had saved her life. If that snow storm hadn’t blown in… She tried not to think about what would have happened then.
Esther clawed her way out of the snow drift and hugged herself, her teeth chattering ferociously from the cold. She looked back up at the window she had just come out of and saw the man’s head, looking down at her. Above him, she saw several guardsmen up on the roof, looking down as well. It appeared that one of them had a rope in his hands, but it was hard to tell in the dim light and blowing snow.
Suddenly, her assailant pushed himself out of the window and slid down the wall. He was coming after her! Esther turned and ran, barely noticing when one of her slippers fell off as she pushed her way through the wind and snow. The snow covered ground became dark up ahead and she came up to the edge of a steep cliff, dropping away below her. She turned around quickly, only to find the big assassin standing a few feet away, his breath turning to steam as he exhaled.
“Well aren’t you just a pretty thing in that lovely nightgown. I’m sure his Lordship won’t mind if I play a little before I kill you and toss your body off of the mountain—I know my other employer won’t. There’s nothing like getting paid twice for the same job, especially if it’s as fun as this one is going to turn out to be. If you cooperate, I’ll even make your death quick, instead of the slow death that they wanted by gutting you. I promise you, I’ll be quick.”
Esther caught a glimpse of a figure behind the man, running through the snow towards them. It looked like…Oluchi! The mercenary assassin must have seen her glance behind him, because he turned quickly, swinging his sword up to block the overhand strike that Oluchi had been about to land on him.
Esther saw her opening. The hidden dagger from her thigh flashed into her hand as she leapt forward, running up behind the man and reaching around to draw the blade across his neck.
The assassin stumbled back, dropping his sword as his hands went to his throat. Esther jumped back out of his way as he fell to the ground and lay still. It was only then that she noticed the hilt of the man’s long dagger protruding from the side of Oluchi’s ribs. Oluchi coughed blood and fell to his knees.
“Oluchi, no!” she cried, dropping next to him and wrapping her arms around him to keep him from falling over. She didn’t dare pull the dagger out. It might make the bleeding worse. She lowered him down into her lap and pressed her hand against the wound as best she could around the blade of the dagger to staunch the flow of blood. He looked up at her, his eyes staring into her own, finally revealing the vulnerability beneath the stoic, immutable presence he’d always shown. She saw the love in his eyes. Love that had always been there, she knew, but that he had carefully masked. But there was more than that—there was a brotherly love in those eyes as well that even now shone bright and strong. A love that she’d always felt from him, and for him. Her dear friend brought his hand up to her cheek and softly touched her face. He smiled, and then his spirit departed, his limp hand falling to the ground.
A wrenching cry tore itself from her mouth as she looked up and screamed her rage and sorrow into the heavens. She barely noticed the cold anymore, her skin numb and her emotions raw as a piece of slushy snow slid down the bare skin of her chest to the neckline of her nightgown.
She bowed her head and cried over the form of her dead friend. She knew she needed to get up and get inside—she may not be able to feel the cold, but it was still there, and would kill her and her babies if she didn’t hurry. But it was too much and she couldn’t make herself get up. Finally, she saw lanterns in the darkness and men approaching. Cielian guardsmen, she noticed with a corner of her mind. There was someone else with them. Geoffrey, she saw. Her mind felt fuzzy as they surrounded her.
“Esther! Are you alright? Is any of that blood yours?” Geoffrey asked. Esther shook her head.
One of the guardsman tossed a blanket around her shoulders and another gently pulled Oluchi off of her lap. Geoffrey helped her stand. She looked up at him and could feel the tears continue to stream down her cheeks. She could feel the anger and rage she had shouted at the heavens still burning inside of her and suddenly she was angry at Geoffrey.
“Why didn’t you get here sooner?!” she screamed, pounding her fists against his chest. “Why?!”
He looked at her sadly, the pain of Oluchi’s death evident in his eyes as well and the sudden anger seemed to leach away. She buried her head in his chest and sobbed. A moment later, she was in his arms, being carried back towards the palace.
She let her emotions and grief have full reign as he carried her, but in the back of her mind, she was remembering the
words that the mercenary had said about his ‘employer’s’, ‘his Lordship’, and ‘getting paid twice for the same job’. The burning anger she had taken out on poor Geoffrey started to build again as they entered back into the palace and the assassins words began to have meaning.
The warm air of the palace touched her skin and she shivered uncontrollably Geoffrey carried her down the long main hall of the third tier. When they reached the platform, Nkiru was there and looked at her, fear and trepidation apparent on her face.
“Put me down, please Geoffrey,” she said, almost in a whisper.
He looked down at her with concern, but then nodded and lowered her feet to the ground so that she could stand. It was then that she looked down and noticed that she was covered with blood. Oluchi’s blood. Tears sprang to her eyes again, but she wiped them away. Right now, she had a job to do.
“Fetch me my sword, please Geoffrey.”
“But—”
“Just do it, please Geoffrey,” she said, in that same, calm whisper. He looked at her a moment, clearly conflicted, then nodded and stepped onto the lift.
Esther walked over to Nkiru and took her by the hands.
“Are you alright?” Nkiru asked, looking down at Esther’s bloody clothing.
Esther nodded. “Yes. Yes I am,” she said. “Thanks to Oluchi.” Esther couldn’t help it and started to cry. “I’m sorry, Nkiru,” she said. “I am so sorry. I couldn’t save him. I tried…”
Tears welled up in Nkiru’s eyes and she wrapped her arms around Esther and cried on her shoulder. They stood together, crying in each other’s arms until Geoffrey returned some minutes later. He held the katana that the old Kamakuran man had given her. She reached out to take it, but Geoffrey pulled it away.
“Esther, what are you going—”
“Give me my sword, please, Geoffrey.”
He hesitated a moment, but must have seen something in her eyes. Something that scared him, if the look on his face was any indication. He handed her the sword and she gripped the polished scabbard in her left hand.
“He did it, Geoffrey. He brought the assassin who killed Oluchi here,” said Esther, staring down at the ground.
“Who? King Ynvgarr?”
Esther nodded, looking up into his face.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
Esther told him what the assassin had said.
“Esther, that could mean a lot of things” said Geoffrey. “And even if it were true, that’s not enough to accuse him of it. You can’t prove that he ordered it, or that he brought the assassin here. And you can’t just go kill a King because of what you thought he may have done.”
“Then I’ll challenge him and his honor will demand he fight.”
“Wha—? Esther, are you insane? You’re pregnant! You can’t go challenge anyone to a duel, least of all the King of Riaseth!”
“Please, Geoffrey,” she said, tears running down her cheeks again. “He didn’t come to sign the treaty. There will be no treaty. He came to kill me. And he wasn’t the only one who sent that assassin. Madraus is behind this as well. I know it.” She stepped towards the lift, gently pushing Geoffrey out of her way.
“Esther, you can’t do this!” he said. She turned back to him with a sad smile.
“I can. And I will.” She nodded to the Cielian guardsman on the platform lift who signaled for it to be lowered, and the platform descended into the second tier of the palace.
Chapter 31
The Departure of Riaseth
As the platform descended, Esther focused her mind on her breathing to calm her heart rate. It was a wonder that she hadn’t triggered another seizure. She felt sure that her ‘blood pressure’, as Geoffrey put it, was very high. It wouldn’t do to collapse now, however, so she stilled her mind and tried to rein in her galloping heart. She needed to stay focused. She needed to control her heart rate.
She could feel the Cielian guardsman’s gaze on her back. He probably didn’t know what to think of the young Queen who stood on the platform he was assigned to guard, wearing nothing but a nightgown covered in blood, carrying a scabbarded sword in her hand. The thought made Esther smile, but she stepped on the emotion quickly. Smiles would lead to tears. She needed to be as stoic as Oluchi for the next few minutes.
“Where is he?” she asked the guardsman without turning around.
“He’s with their Majesties in the Throne Room,” the guard said. “After the alarm was raised, they all went there to discuss what had happened.”
The platform came to rest on the main floor of the second tier of the palace and Esther stepped off into the main concourse. She turned back and looked at the guardsman. “Thank you,” she said and he nodded.
Esther walked down the hall until she came to a large foyer just outside the doors to the Throne Room. Two Cielian guards stood on either side of the door, with several others scattered about the room—obviously in response to the alarm. The two guards at the door looked at her blood stained nightgown and the scabbarded sword in her hand, then looked at each other with raised eyebrows. She’d be doing the same thing if she were in their place. They knew who she was, of course, but obviously had no idea how to react. Esther walked straight ahead towards the doors. They hesitated a moment, looking at each other again, but when Esther just looked at them expectantly, they pulled open the doors and she walked inside.
King Hávarđr and Queen Rúna stood in the center of the room with King Yngvarr of Riaseth, and King Randolf of Rodheim. They looked like they were having a heated discussion.
“Why should I stay, when you can’t even keep visiting heads of state safe?” she heard Yngvarr say. The comment made Esther’s blood pressure notch up a step or two since she was certain that he had been the one to bring the assassin, but she again focused her mind and her breathing to calm herself. Not only did she have to keep her emotions in check to keep her heart rate down in order to avoid another seizure, but she also had to stay focused when she fought King Yngvarr. She had heard he was an expert with a battle-axe..
The conversation cut off as she walked into the room.
“Queen Esther?!” Rúna said, looking at her blood stained clothes. Esther saw the look of surprise on Yngvarr’s face and couldn’t help but smile. Not what you expected to see is it, you bigoted slime ball.
“Your Majesties,” she said as she approached.
“Are you alright?” King Hávarđr asked.
“Yes,” Esther said, nodding to him. “Fortunately, one of my guardsman was there. This is his blood. Sadly, he did not survive.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Queen Rúna said.
“What happened?” asked King Randolf.
“An assassin,” Esther said, blatantly staring at Yngvarr. He seemed unperturbed.
“But how did he get into the palace?” said Hávarđr.
“I believe that King Yngvarr let him in,” Esther replied matter-of-factly.
“What?! Why do you say that?” asked Hávarđr, looking from Yngvarr to Esther.
“Yes,” Yngvarr said, his tone of innocence a bit exaggerated. “Why do you say that?”
“It was something that the assassin said. However, I have no proof…but I am certain that it was Yngvarr.” King Yngvarr scoffed and Esther continued, “And that is why I challenge him. Right here. Right now.”
The Cielian monarch’s and King Randolf stared at her, open mouthed. Yngvarr, however, only seemed angry.
“You challenge me?!” he said, “You sell yourself to gain a throne and yet dare to challenge me? You aren’t worthy enough to deserve to feel the bite of my axe!”
Now, the other heads of state stared at Yngvarr and Esther both, equally as shocked by Yngvarr’s crude and disturbing words as by Esther’s challenge.
“That may be, maggot!” she shouted back, “But that’s the only way you’re going to be rid of me today!”
Yngvarr stood there a moment, his face turning red with anger. “Alright,” he said at last. “I’ll fight
you, little bitch.” He nodded to a servant, who bowed and left to fetch Yngvarr’s battle-axe. “I wasn’t going to sign your worthless treaty anyway. I say let the Madrausan’s swarm over Hadiq and Ardmorr. There is too much dirty blood there anyway.”
Esther’s nostrils flared at his comments, but again, she focused on her breathing to calm her mind. She placed her right hand on the hilt of her sword and waited, staring at Yngvarr. He was a big man. A full two heads taller than Esther with wide shoulders. His biceps were as big around as Esther’s thighs. He had quite a large belly as well—from all the beer, Esther was sure. She wouldn’t last long and would have to end the match quickly. She could already feel her energy ebbing, even with the boost of adrenaline. She felt like ancient David, standing before the Giant.
The servant returned with Yngvarr’s battle-axe and Yngvarr took it from him without a word, his eyes glittering with anticipation. Queen Rúna stepped up next to her.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Esther?” she asked, fear for Esther evident in her eyes.
Esther nodded. “I’m sorry about your carpet,” she said, then stepped toward Yngvarr, pulling her sword from its scabbard. Hávarđr, Rúna, and Randolf stepped back and several Cielian guardsmen came forward to stand between the combatants and their lieges as a shield.
There would be no one to mediate this match, and they needed no one to tell them to begin. Yngvarr suddenly swung his axe in from the side with such speed and strength, Esther was barely able to dance backwards out of the way in time to keep the blade from eviscerating her swollen abdomen. She had been expecting just such an attack, however, and she glided forward under his reach and swung her sword in an upward strike, cutting him open from his right hip, to his left shoulder, the razor sharp blade slicing through the bones of his rib cage. There was a look of shocked surprise in his eyes before they glazed over. His battle-axe slipped from his fingers and dropped to the ground just before he fell forward onto the carpet.
Retribution Page 28
