by Donna Hatch
Alivan’s face paled further. “You can kill me but you’ll not get a word out of me.”
Kai applied more pressure to Alivan’s throat until a thin line of blood trickled down his neck, knowing if he was wrong about this, he risked execution and war between Darbor and Arden. He kept his voice cold. “I won’t kill you, Alivan, I will only carve you up. Slowly.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I fear the safety of Arden is at stake. It is my duty to protect it, even from a traitor.”
When Alivan still did not reply, Kai moved his sword to the base of Alivan’s left ear. The nobleman held his breath.
Kai deepened the chill in his voice. “They taught us many things when I trained to become a Sauraii. One is to never show mercy to an enemy.”
Alivan’s face paled even further, but he remained silent. Kai bent over him and with a swift stroke, brought the hilt of his sword down over the lord’s head in a controlled strike, knocking him unconscious.
Kai sighed. He had hoped that the nobleman wouldn’t call his bluff. He sheathed his sword and threw Alivan over his shoulder. The rider had stopped moaning and lay unconscious on the street.
“Ho, there!” called a voice.
Kai halted.
A guard ran up to him. “Captain Darkwood?”
Kai gestured toward the rider on the street. “Bring him for interrogation. And dispatch a messenger to the king. I must see him immediately.”
The guard’s eyes flicked to Alivan’s limp form draped unceremoniously over Kai’s shoulder, but he carried out the orders.
Kai carried the unconscious lord toward the king’s private study. The eyes of the sentries were upon him as he trod through castle corridors, but after Kai shot a fearsome scowl at anyone foolish enough to attempt to speak to him, the guards all fell back.
After being admitted inside the king’s room, Kai lay Alivan down on a rug and straightened. He stepped back and bowed, falling into formality.
“I haven’t hurt him, Your Majesty,” Kai said hastily to the king. “He’s only unconscious.”
Standing unflinching before the king, Kai then recounted everything he knew of Alivan’s dubious behavior, beginning with the day he had arrived and ending with the nobleman drawing his sword on him.
Prince Aven stood nearby, looking thunderous as he glared at Alivan’s unconscious figure on the rug. Kai glanced at Tarvok, who looked grim. Even now, Tarvok’s men were massing at the outer defenses, and Kai knew the captain of the guard longed to be with them.
The king paced the floor, each movement jerky, and Kai could not be certain if the monarch’s fury was directed at him or at Alivan.
“You know Darkwood speaks the truth, Father.” Aven’s words, quietly spoken, were filled with righteous indignation. “All along, Alivan has thwarted our efforts to train the knights. He argued against bringing the Sauraii here, he argued against fortifying the walls. In short, every effort we have attempted in preparation for war has been stymied by him.”
The king ran his hands over his face. “I know.”
The desolate resignation in his voice twisted like a knife in Kai’s stomach. Silently, he watched the noble king of Arden come to terms with a painful betrayal.
Kai swallowed against a dry throat. “Sire, he said the first wave was coming tonight. We face imminent invasion.”
Looking as if he’d aged twenty years in moments, the king nodded. “Sound the alarm. Evacuate the women and children. Arm everyone else. Dismissed.”
They bowed and left the room, calling for their squires and sending out messengers. Kai felt sick down to his soul. There were few adequately trained knights in the castle, and even if they had all been Sauraiis, so few against a full army of savages made defeat alarmingly probable.
Kai clenched his fists. They should be meeting in a battlefield, not defending themselves at their very door. He had barely finished donning the padded shirt that protected his skin from the metal edges of his armor, when the horns sounded.
“We’re under attack!” Voices picked up the warning.
Adrenaline flowed through Kai’s body, energizing it and sharpening his senses. He ran through mental exercises to clear his mind as his squire helped him don his chain mail and strap on his weapons.
Ragged breathing caught Kai’s attention, and he turned to see Romand’s expression of sheer terror.
“Pick up your sword, Romand, and stay close. We fight for our country. There is no greater honor than that.”
King Farai of Darbor had once declared Kai invincible. Tonight would test that claim in a way no battle ever had. For the sake of the Ardeenes, Kai prayed that the Darborian king was right.
Chapter Six
J eniah awoke in terror. Every nerve in her body screamed danger. “Mora!” She leaped from her bed, picked up the lit candle, and rushed to her wardrobe. After flinging the doors open, she began searching through her clothes. She found a plain riding gown and cloak, and as she shed her nightgown she called again, “Mora!”
The sleepy-eyed lady-in-waiting came into her room. “What is it?”
“We’re in danger.”
Mora blinked and rubbed her eyes. “Little one, I’m sure it was only a dream.”
“No. No, it’s real.” Jeniah couldn’t explain how she knew, but blind terror had dragged her from sleep and urged her to flee. She stepped into her clothes and fumbled at the ties with shaking hands.
The wail of a horn broke the stillness of the night. Jeniah froze.
Mora blinked. “What—?”
A shout came from outside the castle. “We’re under attack! Enemy approaching! Evacuate the city!”
More voices picked up the alert and grew stronger as the message passed from mouth to mouth.
Someone pounded on her door. “Princess!”
White-faced, Mora hurried to open the door while Jeniah pulled on her stockings and shoes.
A guard stood in the threshold. “Dress quickly, my lady. We must get you and the princess out of the city.”
“What is it?”
“The Hanorans are upon us. They’re at the outer gates.”
Jeniah felt the blood leave her face. “They are here? Now?”
“I thought Jeniah’s marriage would prevent all that,” Mora said.
The guard shook his head. “Lies, all of them. Quickly! There is no time.”
Jeniah grabbed two cloaks and handed one to Mora. The guard made an impatient gesture and then urged them down the hallway. As they descended the grand staircase, another knight stopped beside them. “We’re surrounded. Take them to the queen’s solarium.” Without waiting for acknowledgement, he ran on, his armor clinking loudly.
Distant cries sounded. Then an earsplitting noise shook the castle, and the screams grew closer. Jeniah hurried to a window at the end of the corridor and parted the hangings to look outside. Fire illuminated a city in chaos. The sound of clanging metal and the distant cheer of men rang out. Much closer came the clashing of swords and then a strangled cry. The smell of blood assaulted her nostrils.
A sound like thunder rent the air and another shudder rippled through the castle. The guard let out a shout and grabbed Jeniah by the elbow, thrusting her behind him.
The wall exploded, the impact throwing them to the floor. Debris and shattered glass showered over them. Dazed, Jeniah pushed herself up and coughed as a cloud of dirt arose. Freezing wind blew in from a yawning hole where the outer wall and window had stood only a moment ago. As the dust settled, Jeniah saw the guard lying next to her underneath several large, ragged blocks of stone.
“Sir Knight?” Jeniah touched his grimy, bloodied face and felt for a pulse in his neck. Finding none, she let out a sound of distress.
Mora put her hand over her mouth. Nearby, the floor had collapsed, leaving a chasm where the corridor had once been. They were cut off from their path to the queen’s tower. Jeniah peered over the edge. An enormous boulder lay on the next floor below them, surrounded by chunk
s of stone that had once made up the floor.
“How can this be happening?” gasped Mora. “What should we do?”
Jeniah had never seen Mora so frightened. She took her hand. “We’ve got to get to my mother’s tower. This way.”
As the sounds of battle raged outside and smoke burned their eyes, Jeniah led Mora to the back stairwell. Another explosion shook the walls around them as they stumbled down the stairs. At the bottom, they paused. The main hall had become a battlefield. Many of the armed men were Ardeene knights, but others wore strange armor. These were not her people; they were dark and long-haired. Hanorans.
Somehow, they would have to cross the main hall to get to the stairway leading up to the queen’s solarium in the central tower.
A nearby Hanoran wielding a curved sword sliced through the Ardeene knight he faced. Mute with horror, Jeniah watched helplessly while the knight crumpled. The Hanoran turned, seeking a new opponent.
Jeniah swallowed, trying to gather her courage and her wits. She and Mora would never make it to the other side of the great hall to the central staircase without being detected. She could blur, of course, but that would not help Mora.
Mora turned to her. “I know you can hide yourself, little one. You must do so now. Go to your mother in her solar. Be safe.”
“We’ll find a way through together.”
“Go on your own. I’ll try to get through alone.”
Terrified that she would never see Mora again, Jeniah clutched at her. “No. Stay with me.”
Mora crushed Jeniah against her bosom. “I love you, child. As if you were my own.”
Then, roughly, she pushed Jeniah away and darted into the great hall. Keeping to the shadows, she zigzagged her way through the battling men. Jeniah blurred and followed, careful to touch no one and reveal herself. They might make it.
Mora almost reached the stairs before an enemy soldier marked her. With a lunge, he grabbed her and threw her to the ground. He raised his sword, about to deliver a killing blow.
“No!” Jeniah shrieked.
She charged at the soldier and threw herself upon his back in an attempt to knock him to the floor. In surprise, the Hanoran staggered, but did not fall.
“No, foolish girl!” Mora screamed. “Run!”
“I’m not leaving you!”
She rolled off the soldier’s back and darted out of the way, realizing belatedly that she’d forgotten to remain blurred. The second the Hanoran lost eye contact, she blurred. He turned, swinging his sword, and then blinked. In confusion, he scanned the room. Mora climbed to her feet and started for the stairs again, but the swarthy soldier grabbed her around the waist and threw her down again.
Jeniah picked up a sword from a downed knight. It was much heavier than she expected. She knew nothing about battle, but she knew which end of a weapon to use. Standing behind him, she plunged the sword into the Hanoran’s back. Her blade met with more resistance than she expected, and there was a sickening sound of cracking bone and tearing flesh. The Hanoran stumbled, dropped to his knees, and fell face down.
Aghast, Jeniah dropped the sword and looked down at the blood spattered on her gown. She’d killed a man!
Mora seized her hand and pulled her toward the stairway. Fighting nausea and the bile in her throat, Jeniah staggered. Then she realized she had lost her focus and was no longer blurred, but she couldn’t find the strength to do it again. They climbed the stairs and stumbled over a body lying in their path. With dismay, Jeniah recognized him as an Ardeene knight. She stepped carefully over him as if she feared hurting him further, her stomach twisting at the sight. Again, they encountered a lifeless knight. At the top of the stairs were several more motionless forms, both Hanoran and Ardeene. The door to the queen’s solarium lay in splinters on the floor. Another knight lay face down in a pool of scarlet on the threshold.
Fearing the worst, Jeniah looked inside. Only a glance around the room confirmed that none of the royal family remained there. The queen’s room had been ransacked. Her indigo brocade furniture lay on end, its fabric hanging in slashed ribbons. Pillows were strewn haphazardly about. A candelabrum lay on the floor, the candles’ flames drowning in their own wax. The fire in the fireplace had died down, its light casting a pale glow over the destruction.
“They must have been moved to a safer location,” she said to a stunned Mora, while a darker fear whispered in her mind.
The lady-in-waiting wrung her hands and turned anguished eyes upon Jeniah. “Where do we go? How am I to protect you now?”
“We must get out of the city,” Jeniah said, trying to think clearly.
She stepped into the room to give her eyes something other than the dead men to focus upon while she fought to gather her thoughts. The view inside was only mildly less disturbing.
Mora hugged herself. “Surely someone will realize you’re missing and come back for you.”
“Ah! Two more birds have flown into the cage,” a guttural voice said from behind them.
Three Hanoran soldiers stood on the stairs, weapons drawn, clothing smeared in gore. With hatred and something far more sinister glittering in their eyes, they advanced upon Mora and Jeniah.
Mora pulled Jeniah behind her. “Stay back, fiends.”
The nearest soldier laughed at her empty bravery. Tortuously slow, the invaders continued to move forward, backing Mora and Jeniah further into the room.
“That must be the missing princess,” said one of the soldiers, glowering at Jeniah.
“Yes,” agreed another. “I think we’ve found her. And I think we shall enjoy her first.” They all laughed in cruel glee.
“It would be a shame to not enjoy the spoils of war before we turn her over to the commander,” rejoined the first.
The nearest soldier made a quick lunge for Mora, his sword slicing through her midsection. Jeniah screamed as Mora crumpled. Shocked and enraged, Jeniah stared. Mora couldn’t be dead. None of this was real. None of this was happening.
“Come, little girl. Which one of us do you want first?” taunted a soldier.
Cold fear skittered down Jeniah’s spine. She picked up a fallen candlestick and held it with both hands in front of her. He smirked. He made a jab at her and laughed as she clumsily tried to ward him off. His sword came up and effortlessly knocked her weapon out of her hand. It made a loud clunk as it hit the floor. The soldier licked his lips. Jeniah shrank back against the wall near the black fireplace, her heart throbbing in her ears.
“I outrank you both, so I claim her first,” he called over his shoulder to his comrades, without taking his eyes off her.
His eyes smoldered as he set down his sword. Grinning hideously, the soldier lunged at her and threw her roughly to the floor. She screamed as he fell upon her and nearly crushed her with the weight of his body. The savage’s hands tore her gown from the neckline to the waist. His breath was hot and foul upon her face. She screamed again. Kicking and scratching failed to move him.
Jeniah’s flailing hand came into contact with a fire poker. She pulled, but it hung by a hook and she could not pull it loose. Her free hand clawed his face and pummeled his chest. Twisting her body, she kicked anything her legs could reach.
Sharp claws of panic raked her heart, and then primal fear swept over her, bringing untapped strength. She tore the fire poker free, then smashed it down upon the head of the Hanoran soldier. The brute straightened and cried out. Jeniah swung her weapon across her body and struck him again, this time on the side of his head, knocking him off her. As he fell sideways onto the floor, she struggled to her knees.
Her attacker dabbed at the blood trickling from the side of his face and looked down at his hand smeared with his own blood. With a murderous cry, he threw himself at her. She braced herself and plunged the pointed end of the fire poker deep into his chest. He gurgled and fell back, then lay still, eyes open in surprise.
Sickened, Jeniah climbed shakily to her feet. The other soldiers paused, staring first at their fallen c
omrade and then at her. She turned toward them, still brandishing the bloodied fire poker.
A shadowed figure burst into the room, and the Hanorans whirled to face the new arrival. With a battle cry, the shadow lunged at them, moving as lithely as a dancer. A sword flashed and both Hanorans fell lifeless. The shadowy form turned, his armor and sword dripping with blood. Dark panic welled up inside Jeniah, nearly strangling her. The man rushed toward her.
Grimly wielding her fire poker, Jeniah faced her new enemy.
Chapter Seven
I feared I was too late,” Kai gasped breathlessly, his chest heaving.
The glow of fire from outside the windows illuminated Princess Jeniah’s terror-filled face. She showed only a glimmer of recognition. Kai’s gaze moved down her torn gown to the blood that smeared her exposed skin and splattered her clothes. Her hand gripped a bloodied fire poker. A Hanoran soldier lay dead at her feet.
She stared at Kai hollowly, and his breath left him as if a giant fist squeezed his lungs. She’d suffered the worst sort of violence from those monsters. He tried to steady his voice and held out a hand toward her. “Come with me, Princess. I’m getting you out of here.”
When she made no move, he approached as he would an injured animal. Averting his eyes from her near nakedness, Kai removed his cloak and placed it around her. She did not resist. After fastening the cloak, he pried the poker from her hand and tossed it onto the floor.
The princess shivered, her breath ragged, her eyes wide and unblinking. He took her hand and gently propelled her to the door. At the top of the stairs he paused, his senses straining for possible ambush in such a closed space. Satisfied that the stairway was empty, he led her out. Stepping over bodies, they wound their way down the steps. In an attempt to spare the princess, he maneuvered himself so that his body blocked the sight of so many corpses strewn about. He could not begin to estimate the death toll.
He had failed them all. Sick with bitterness, he forced himself to keep moving, driven by a single thought: the princess must be protected.
