Just put them to sleep, I thought, but I didn’t have time to be critical. I shook my wrists at her. “Hurry up.”
I watched Tyrion nervously while she fumbled with my chains. He was still on his knees, protected by his enchanted shield while he struggled furiously to keep himself alive. With Gareth transforming close by, he couldn’t risk healing himself as an archmage would. He stared at me the entire time, his eyes boring into me with an all-consuming hatred.
Then Gareth was gone, leaping forward and upward to punish the archers on the wall. His body was a confusing blur of wings, scales, claws, and teeth. Tyrion smiled, and then his wounds began to melt away.
“Estus,” said Karen at last, and I heard a click and felt the manacles fall away. I caught them with one hand and tucked them into my belt. She reached out toward us, but before she could act, she seemed to vanish, her body thrown violently to one side.
From the corner of one eye I saw Karen strike the side of the courthouse and slump to the ground.
“You took too long, grandson,” said Tyrion’s menacing voice, sending chills down my spine.
“Rose, run,” I called over my shoulder. “Please.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Never again.”
She was standing behind me, but with my magesight I saw her draw a long dagger from her dress. At the same time, I felt a sudden warning of some sort, and I jumped to one side as one of Tyrion’s armblades swept across. I almost made it, but the tip still cut a shallow, bloody groove across my chest. Desperate, I reached for my power, and found—almost nothing.
My magical reserves are normally quite impressive. Penny used to tell me so all the time, and not always as part of some weird wizard sex humor. But today they were almost dry. A week of wearing those damned manacles had left me drained and feeble, magically speaking.
This left me in an awkward position, facing my ancestor, who was freshly healed, as powerful as ever, and armed with enchanted tattoos that would have been difficult for me to deal with under the best of circumstances, while I had next to nothing. No equipment, no weapons, no enchanted pouches, and very damn little magic.
Pretty much a normal Monday for me, but I wasn’t ready for it. It was still Sunday, after all.
I backed away, pushing Rose as I went, since she stubbornly refused to run. “Let’s talk about this, Tyrion. We can still be friends,” I said, using my best charm.
“It’s too late for that, Mordecai. I would have helped you, but I’m in no mood now,” he threatened, stalking forward slowly.
I held my hands out in a non-threatening manner. “What’s a few arrows between friends?”
Tyrion growled. “The difference between having your balls and being cut into so many pieces you’re only fit to feed the dogs,” he snarled.
Rose stumbled slightly as she reached the stairs to one side of the courthouse, then she caught her balance and put her arm on my back, as if to help guide me down. I could sense them already with my magesight, but I didn’t have time to tell her that. Tyrion was still coming forward.
“You can’t escape, Mordecai,” he hissed. “Your Mordan mage is unconscious, your allies lost in the fog, and you don’t have enough strength left to defend yourself, much less that trollop behind you.”
We reached the bottom of the steps and kept going, backing along the side of the street. “Watch your language,” I warned. “There are ladies present.” If I couldn’t beat him with magic, I figured perhaps I’d have more success with the rules of etiquette.
I felt another of those strange warnings, but I couldn’t dodge; it was coming straight for me and Lady Rose was behind me. I turned to push her away when a wide surge of force flung me directly into her, and we were both tossed twenty feet down the sidewalk, tumbling and rolling. Wrapping my arms around her, I managed to create a light shield to protect us from the cobblestones.
When we finally came to a stop, I remembered the dagger in her hand and I felt fortunate not to have been impaled by it. “He’s going to kill me, Rose,” I whispered to her as we tried to regain our feet. “Please run. I’ll try to keep him busy long enough—”
“No!” she said, nearly shouting. “I’ve come too far. We leave together, or we die. I no longer care.”
“Such sweet lovebirds,” said Tyrion, still walking toward us. “Be wary, Mordecai. That bird may sing, but she has venom in her songs.”
“You know nothing about her,” I bit back.
His eyes went wide. “Me? I know everything about betrayal, grandson, as both a victim and as a master in its commission, and that woman”—he pointed at Rose—“has shown me tricks even I didn’t expect. I’ve tasted her fruit and found it bitter indeed.”
My initial plan was to try and keep him talking. The more time that passed, the better the chance that something might distract him, not to mention my power was recovering, albeit too slowly to offer much hope. The fruit comment, though, that stung, and my anger was rising.
He saw it on my face, too. “So that’s what bothers you the most, isn’t it?” he sneered. “Don’t worry, our arrangement was fair and equitable. I made sure she tasted what I offered as well.”
White-knuckled with rage, I wished desperately that I had a weapon, but the only weapons available to me were my words. “I see why you’re so upset now,” I told him. “I’ve never had a lover so disappointed in my performance that she felt the need to have me murdered. What stings more, your pride, or was it the arrows?”
“Mordecai!” warned Rose, though I wasn’t sure if it was because my remark concerned her, or whether she was worried I’d push him too far. I was almost too angry to care.
I felt a surge of danger and I stepped right, narrowly avoiding the armblade that swept through the space I had just been standing in. At the same time, I bent forward, and his other weapon swept just over my head, so close it trimmed some of the hair from my head. Tyrion surged forward, while I backpedaled, trying desperately to avoid his lethal attacks.
He was fast, way too damn fast, and his movements weren’t wild or sloppy, despite his fury. Tyrion’s attacks were lightning quick, like a striking cobra, and despite their speed, I could tell there was a cold, calculating mind behind them. Even with the advantage of my strange warnings, I couldn’t quite avoid them all. Step by step, I retreated, gaining a collection of minor cuts that bled, painting my new clothes in fresh crimson.
It would have been nice if I could have fought back. As it was, it took everything I had just to avoid the murderous sweep of his arms. I could sense his aythar flowing, not into the air, but through his body, increasing his strength and speed.
He didn’t want to kill me, or he would have already done it. He had power to spare. He could have simply set me on fire or blasted me to pieces, but he was choosing to enhance his body instead, which told me his plan. Tyrion wanted to bleed me, to make me suffer, humiliating me in front of Rose.
Thinking his anger had made him careless was a mistake in itself, though. Tyrion steered me across the street, using his aggressive attacks to direct my retreat, until at last we passed a few feet from where Rose was anxiously watching. As the line of his shoulders passed her, she leapt forward, dagger in hand, hoping to drive her blade through his back.
It’s worth noting that although her dagger was enchanted, the shield protecting his body was also the product of an enchantment. While an enchanted weapon will almost always tear through a protection crafted from raw magic, when two enchantments are put into opposition it’s largely a matter of strength. I had already witnessed Tyrion’s shield tattoos shattering enchanted arrows with the power of a warbow behind them, so I knew Rose’s dagger didn’t have a hope of hurting him—but she didn’t know that.
Tyrion did, and in fact, he had planned on it. I saw it in his eyes as she leapt at him. As her blade skittered away from his impervious back, he spun, his left arm sweeping sideways
in a blow that would cut her body in twain. Rushing forward, I tried to stop him, but I knew I wouldn’t make it in time.
Chapter 37
Chad’s first arrow landed slightly left of where he had intended, missing Tyrion’s heart. It was no fault of his own, simply bad luck. The man had shifted his stance purely by chance as the arrow left the string. The hunter didn’t pause to think about it, though. He already had a second and third arrow in the air before he even knew the result of his first shot.
Thoroughness counts, and Chad Grayson didn’t do anything in half measures, whether it was drinking or killing. In his peripheral vision, he saw Cyhan release his second arrow as he reached down to claim three more shafts. Not bad for an amateur archer, he thought. The ranger finished his second set of three shots and then started laming the guards on the steps with his last four arrows.
By the time all ten of the arrows he had set out were gone, Cyhan was just beginning to reach for his fourth. Chad was impressed nonetheless. The big man had done better than many veteran archers the huntsman had trained over the years. Despite the stress of the situation, all three of the knight’s arrows had found their targets.
Guards were running toward them from both sides, while below people were screaming as the knowledge of their attack finally registered on the crowd. Cyhan dropped the arrow he was holding and used his bow like a short spear, jabbing one end of it into the belly of the first guard, bringing the man up short.
Chad winced at that, not out of sympathy for the guard, but for the bow. The guardsman’s sword swept down, a second too late to prevent the jab, but in plenty of time to leave a deep cut in Cyhan’s bowstave. The bastard has no respect for craftsmanship, swore Chad silently. Borrowing Cyhan’s remaining arrows, he began shooting at the guards coming from the other direction of the wall, aiming for their legs with mixed success, since their movement meant the arrows were almost as likely to glance off their thigh guards as they were to penetrate.
Chad ran out of the arrows Cyhan had set out when the last guard reached him, but he lifted the bow and drew anyway, causing the man to flinch and dodge backward. Grinning, Chad dropped the bow and used the brief respite to draw his two long knives. Starting a swordfight with only knives in his hands wasn’t on Chad’s list of preferred activities, but with his newfound strength and speed, he didn’t think it was as hopeless as it would otherwise have been.
The ranger nearly jumped out of his skin when Elaine appeared beside him, her invisibility melting away. He stopped his knife just inches from her belly before swearing, “Scarin’ me ain’t really wise right now!”
Elaine blanched, but then spoke a word, “Shibal.” The guard that Chad had been facing crumpled, asleep before he reached the ground. The young woman looked out from between two merlons and then added a few more words, creating a thick mist to conceal Rose and Mordecai. That done, she turned to the ranger. “Sorry I’m late. The circle took longer than I expected.”
Glancing behind, Chad saw that the guards who had charged Cyhan were now down. Two appeared to be unconscious, while the third was sitting down, nursing a broken arm and leg. “Why didn’t ya just knock ‘em off the damned parapet?”
The big man glanced down, then shrugged. It was twenty feet to the ground. “Would have killed them,” he said simply.
“This ain’t the time fer bein’ squeamish,” Chad said, rebuking him.
Cyhan pointed down the other section of wall. “If you hadn’t been shooting for their legs, that last one wouldn’t have reached you.”
Chad ground his teeth. “I don’t have time fer yer shit right now.” Reaching down he recovered his bow and then took several fresh arrows from his quiver as he looked over the edge. Unfortunately, the mist made it impossible to find a target. “They’re on their own now. Time to go.”
Elaine pointed in the direction of the corner Chad had been shooting toward. “The stairs over there will put us closest to the circle.” She started to move in that direction, but then stopped, a strange look on her face. “Harold.”
The ranger pushed her from behind. “Don’t stop.”
She pointed down at the mist below. “Harold’s down there.” Waving her hand, she caused the mist in that area to clear so they could see him.
Chad glanced down, then kept pushing. “Good thing he’s down there and we’re up here. Keep movin’.” As they went, he couldn’t help but wonder, “What is he doin’?”
Cyhan was behind him, and he answered, “He’s thinking of jumping.”
Chad’s eyes went wide. “It’s more’n twenty feet!” Then he looked at Cyhan. “Can we jump that far?”
The big knight shrugged. “Maybe. I wouldn’t advise it. I always tell those I train not to try it.”
“Why not?” asked Chad, but Elaine was still moving, so he followed her, looking back every second or so to see what was happening. Cyhan stopped over one of the men that had been shot in the leg. The man was still conscious, but he was bleeding heavily, and it was obvious he didn’t have any fight left in him.
“It’s risky,” answered the knight, bending down to grab the wounded soldier by the belt and collar.
Harold made his move, bending deeply at the knees he launched himself skyward. If he had been unarmored, he might have sailed completely over the merlons, but as it was he barely reached them, just catching one of the capstones with his right hand. He firmed up his grip, and then, using the incredible strength in his arm, pulled himself upward with a jerk that sent him flying into the air again.
Sir Cyhan lifted the wounded soldier, holding him just above his chest, and as Harold arced gracefully over the top of the merlons, he heaved the man into the air. The poor guard who had become his makeshift missile screamed as he struck Sir Harold square in the chest, and the two of them tumbled headlong toward the street below.
Cyhan turned around and resumed marching toward Chad and Elaine. “I’ve warned him before. He’ll remember his training next time.”
If he’s still alive, thought Chad. So much for yer humanitarian impulses. Then the wall in front of Elaine exploded as something like a golden meteor struck it. “What the fuck was that?” yelled the hunter.
Elaine answered with a single word, “Conall.” Then she shrieked in alarm as Cyhan snatched her up and jumped down to the palace yard.
“You said we wasn’t supposed to jump!” shouted Chad.
Cyhan grinned briefly, then began to move toward the corner where Elaine’s hidden teleport circle was waiting for them.
Looking down nervously, Chad jumped just as the wall beneath him exploded, throwing fragments of stone and masonry in all directions. The landing was easier than he expected, but he rolled rather than trust his knees and ankles to take all the force. Wiping what he thought was sweat from his face, he found a bright red smear of blood on his hand. A stone fragment had torn his cheek open.
Wasting no time, he caught up with his associates. An idea had come to him, and he leaned closer to Elaine. “You can make illusions out of sound too, right?”
She nodded, and he whispered his idea to her. A few seconds later, cries sounded from the other side of the wall, “Protect the Queen! Assassins in the Justice Building!”
Chad smiled wickedly. That’ll get Conall off our backs.
They were still thirty yards from their destination and it seemed they would make a clean escape, but then something horrific, a shifting ball of flesh, teeth, and scales, boiled over the top of the wall. “Fuck me,” swore Chad. “Run!”
He didn’t follow his own advice, though. He still had his bow in his hand, and quick as thought, he had it up and drawn. There were fifteen enchanted arrows still in his quiver, but they didn’t remain there. Firing with blistering speed, Chad Grayson sent them all at the horror that came over the wall. They tore through the shuddering flesh, causing the monster to scream in pain as it settled at the base of
the wall.
It didn’t die, though. Legs sprouted from its sides and a massive head began to appear. Reflexively, Chad reached for his quiver, but there was nothing left to fire. This is why I fuckin’ hate wizards, he thought. Then Elaine’s hand caught his shoulder and the world vanished into darkness.
“Don’t move,” cautioned Elaine. “We’re invisible. Take my hand and we’ll start walking slowly.”
“Won’t it hear us?” asked Chad.
“I’ve covered everything,” said the young woman. “Sight, sound, and magesight. We’re completely undetectable.”
“I can’t see shit,” muttered the hunter. “What happens if we bump into it?”
“That would be bad,” said Elaine. “Gareth doesn’t appear to be in a good mood right now.”
“Gareth? That thing is Gareth Gaelyn?” hissed Chad. “No wonder he doesn’t have any friends.”
Cyhan chuckled beside him in the darkness. “He ate all his friends two thousand years ago. Give him time. He’ll make more.”
Not like that he won’t, thought Chad sourly, then he turned on Cyhan. “Why are you laughin’? Are ya still gonna be chucklin’ when he rips yer innards out?”
The big warrior didn’t answer, but he laughed a little more anyway.
“Do either of you know which way to go?” asked Elaine. “I got a little turned around while we were running back for you.”
Disgruntled, Chad responded, “Keep yer hand on my shoulder. The wall is this way. If we keep goin’ ‘til we find it, we can follow it left to get to yer magic circle.” Then he added mentally, Fuckin’ amateurs.
They walked cautiously for several minutes, and Chad was beginning wonder if they would ever reach the wall, when he felt several solid vibrations through the soles of his boots. More followed, growing stronger with each passing second. “He’s close. How is he followin’ us? He doesn’t know where we’re headin’.” Then something bad occurred to him.
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