by Greg Curtis
The only blessing that Edouard could see in the entire nightmare was that he couldn't recognise any of the faces. They were too badly decomposed for that, or at least the ones nearest to him were. Obviously the beheadings, or at least the planting of heads on poles had ended after Simon had fled. It seemed that while Vesar might be a dangerous enemy and possibly even a Cabal wizard he didn't have the same blood lust his brother did. Or had had.
What did that say about the man his older brother had been? That even a Cabal wizard could not match him for sheer barbarism? What sort of demons had dwelt within Simon? Edouard didn't know. But he did understand that Tyrel's punishment of Simon was actually the most merciful she could have given him.
In time Edouard managed to tear his eyes away from the sight and carried on.
At the end of the hallway the doors opened on to the atrium of the castle and there Edouard had to stop. Partly to take in the sheer grandeur of the massive chamber; but also because he could see more soldiers ahead.
This was the heart of the castle. It was here that visitors would arrive, crossing the huge courtyard which was currently filled with rotting corpses and piles of rubble, and entering through the huge doors to be presented with a vision of opulence and splendour.
From the doors visitors would see in front of them huge expanses of polished marble floors, massive stone columns leading up to the vaulted stone ceiling high above, and of course the enormous curved stairway leading up to the first floor. And completely surrounding the vast space were the attendant rooms. To the left of the entrance was what was called the waiting room, where up to a hundred guests, dignitaries and so forth could be seated in comfort as they waited to see the king. To the right was the small public gallery where visitors could look out over the courtyard.
Behind them were the downstairs court rooms where the Court could meet when they didn't use the throne room and the main library. Behind them again there were entrances cunningly concealed beneath the grand sweeping arches of the marble stair case, leading to the king’s kitchens, food stores and servants quarters. In short the back wing of the castle. Many of them he suddenly realised, had views back over the field of heads on poles at the rear of the castle. Those would have been some unhappy servants during Simon’s reign. They'd probably got to see many of those heads planted.
The thing that surprised him most was that those rooms were still intact. It almost looked as though the months of rebellion and war hadn't touched them. Until, that was, he looked across the atrium to hallway on the far side that led to the ballroom. There he could see rubble piled up to the ceiling, and he knew that beyond it lay an entire wing of the castle that was now little more than a giant mound of rubble.
What mattered most to him was that soldiers were stationed outside many of the rooms off the atrium. Too many for him to take down silently. Still, Edouard knew he had to cross the atrium if he was to get to the heart of the castle. But to enter it would be to announce his presence. Was he ready to do that? He had no cover to strike from. Nothing to hide behind. And the enemy could strike from all directions. It could be a disaster.
The decision though was abruptly taken out of his hand as one of the soldiers spotted him, and he suddenly had to run as a hail of musket balls came flying his way. These might not be royal guards trained by his brother, but they were still quick to react. They were on edge simply from waiting for his brother to strike.
But as he sprinted with everything he had back down the long hallway to the barracks, it occurred to Edouard that they didn't realise he was a spark. And so when he heard the sound of foot falls behind him he turned and launched a fireball right at them.
In the enclosed space it was deadly. He heard screaming and saw rock gnomes leaping in all directions as they tried to escape the inferno. The only thing that mattered to him though was that they stopped shooting at him. They were too busy burning to death while those in the atrium couldn't see him through the flames. That bought him the time he needed to make it to safety.
Once there though, crouched behind the wall and peeking into the long hallway behind, he realised that they knew where he was. They also now knew that he was a spark. That changed things. As he stood there, breathing hard and trying to calm his racing heart, Edouard knew that that it had changed things a lot.
It could also work in his favour though. He realised that as he crouched there, staring back down the hallway. His chance of sneaking into the castle had gone. But now he had a different option. Ambushes.
There were two direct ways for them to reach him. The enemy could either come running down the hallway – something that even they had to know would be a deadly mistake when he could turn the hallway into a fiery death trap. Or they could come across the courtyard. His task was to make sure they chose the right option for him to defend against.
A few more fireballs launched down the hallway turned it into an inferno, ensuring that they would not be coming from that direction. Satisfied he quickly made his way to the window, knocked out the glass and waited. It wasn't long before he saw the first group running out of the main door and heading his way. Another fireball quickly stopped them running toward him and instead left them running in every other direction.
After that they were more discreet. He could just see the soldiers at the main entrance to the castle by poking his head out a little way through the broken window and looking along the front wall. But it was dangerous to do that as musket balls tended to start flying back at him soon after. On the other hand they didn't enjoy the fireballs he sent flying their way, though none of them got hit.
Most important though was the fact that there was no mass charge to his position. He had been worried about that, thinking that his attack would draw an entire patrol. But it hadn't, and he guessed that the reason for that was that there were only a few soldiers in the castle. The rest were in the city, preparing to face his brother's army.
That was good, though it still left him with the problem that he needed to search the rest of the castle and if the guards couldn't reach him through the hallway or across the courtyard, neither could he cross them. He was no more immune to fire than anyone else, and out in the open in the courtyard he would be swiftly cut down.
But then he had another idea. The hallway was still burning furiously. He couldn't go through the courtyard. But there was still a third way – the back garden. Through the field of heads.
The moment he thought of it Edouard ran to the kitchen at the back of the barracks and found the back door behind it. Then after opening it a crack and checking that no soldiers were out in the garden, he risked stepping through it. No one shot at him.
After that it was just a straight run along the back wall of the castle until he found one of the side entrances to the servants’ quarters and crept in. From there he crept forward until he was beneath the great marble staircase and staring at the backs of half a dozen veiled soldiers who were standing just inside the main entrance, their heads craned as they tried to spot him in the barracks without actually going outside into the courtyard. They never thought to look behind them. A single fireball took them all out a few seconds later, and just like that the atrium was free of soldiers.
Edouard congratulated himself silently, almost unable to believe how easily things were going. These rock gnomes simply weren't very clever. But when he walked out from behind the stairs a few moments later thinking to head for the first floor he discovered that they weren't quite as stupid as he'd thought.
The first he knew of it was when a pair of explosions surprised him and he felt the impact as two lead musket balls smashed into his back. Luckily his plate stopped them. Even so, the shock and the noise caught him completely unawares and for a brief moment he was staggered. Still, he managed to turn, look up and send a fireball streaking for the two soldiers who had stationed themselves on the huge landing at the top of the staircase, before running back under them.
Then he waited there, breathing a little heavily, he
aring the thunder in his chest of his heart, and waited to hear the sound of boots on the stairs above him. Surely any soldiers stationed on the first floor would come rushing down? But they didn't. And as he stood there catching his breath, he realised that his luck was still holding. The castle was nearly unguarded.
He'd been lucky he knew. The veiled soldiers hadn't realised he had been wearing plate under his jacket and they'd aimed for his heart because of it. Also, the steep angle of their shots had helped his plate to deflect the lead balls. It was just lucky he'd thought to prepare some of the finest plate he could make before setting off to war. It was a full eighth inch of the best steel. Still, if they'd thought to go for a head shot he would have died.
As it was, he realised as he finally started breathing normally again that they'd still scored a hit. He knew that when he felt warmth running down his arm and then checked to see a small rivulet of blood flowing between his fingers. Obviously one of the musket balls had deflected through his flesh though he hadn't felt it. It didn't seem like a serious wound though as he could move and bend his arm freely enough, and this was most definitely not the place to be undressing to check and see how bad it was.
Instead Edouard concentrated on his breathing, and on trying to still his heart which was thumping in his chest. He needed to find his calm. Anyone with magic knew that you had to be clear headed to cast. And he needed his magic. Here more than anywhere else he needed to keep his wits about him.
In time, once he'd calmed sufficiently he risked taking a peek up at the landing from the edge of the stairs, thinking to dive back underneath them the instant he saw someone on them. But no one was up on the landing. No one was standing there pointing a musket at him, and little by little he risked stepping out further from under the shelter of the huge staircase.
Eventually he found himself standing out in the open, right in the centre of the atrium at the foot of the stairs, and as far as he could see he was all alone. The soldiers who had been at the front entrance were dead, as were the two that had been on the landing. And the hallway leading back to the barracks was still burning away merrily with a few more bodies in it. As far as he could tell, the ground floor of the castle was his and the first floor was empty.
Still, he had to check. So one by one he walked gingerly over to each of the attendant rooms surrounding the atrium. First the waiting room and the public gallery, both of which were completely empty, and looking more or less as they had before Simon had staged his coup. A little more dusty perhaps, but nothing more.
The library was also empty for which he was grateful, but when he peered into the court room it was to see a pistol pointed at him.
Edouard ducked back hurriedly just as a musket ball streaked past his nose and into the wall behind him, and then thought about sending a fireball back at the soldier. But he stopped himself as he realised he'd also seen a hostage inside. Make that several hostages. He hadn't seen much of them. Just black hooded figures strapped to the chairs in the room, but it was enough to tell him they weren't soldiers. He had to rescue them. But that was going to be tricky.
Still, as he drew his pistols and prepared himself, he knew it had to be done. He thought he had the edge with his pistols and his plate – especially if they were reloading and he was fast. He had to be fast. But still his heart was racing and his mouth had gone dry. He was awake and alert as he hadn't been in days. And most of all he was determined.
Bursting into the room like a mad man, his weapons at the ready, he found himself facing three soldiers. Two of them were raising muskets at him and one was busy reloading his pistol frantically. Edouard knew he had no time. He fired first, just, and his aim was good as he took out one of the three. But another managed to send a musket ball straight into his chest. His plate blocked it, at least well enough that he could send another shot straight at the soldier, and then pepper the other two with more until they fell to the ground.
Afterwards though, he stood there breathing heavily, his face bone white and shook with reaction. It had been too close. He hadn't realised there were three soldiers in the room. And as fast as he'd been it still hadn't been fast enough. But still his pistols were faster to fire than muskets, and having four shots each they leant him a huge advantage. And his plate had once again saved his life.
In time he began to wonder if the soldiers would be getting back up. Simon had described that happening in great detail. But Edouard doubted it would be happening this time. Not when the wall behind where the three of them had been standing was coated with their thick dark blood. His weapons were not the pathetic duelling pistols his brother used.
Still, it was an anxious time for him as he stood there breathing heavily. And he knew he had to make sure. He kept his magic close before he advanced cautiously on them. If they survived the pistol shots a finger of fire would quickly kill them,
They were dead. When he finally managed to set his eyes on them as he came around the table, he could see that instantly. One look at the huge holes in their chests told him they wouldn't be getting up again.
After that Edouard reloaded his weapons, his fingers trembling as he did so. It was probably not what he should be doing. He should be tending to the hostages. But he had two empty pistols and an unknown number of enemies surrounding him. He felt the need to be prepared. So he quickly shoved the powder, balls and wadding into the barrels, while keeping a wary eye on the door as he did so, and fairly soon he was armed once more. If anyone did come through the door he would be ready for them.
Then it was finally time to turn to the hostages.
There were more of them than he'd realised. Four were seated in the chairs reserved for the court. But another half dozen were seated on the floor behind them, hooded and bound the same way.
Edouard started with the ones in the chairs, pulling the hoods off the first couple of them. And then he stopped dead in shock. Again.
“Seven hells!”
He couldn't believe it as he stood there staring at one of King Byron's sons and the treasurer. Both of them were alive when it had been assumed that they had been killed at the same time as the king. Simon himself had said that they were dead – or was it Vesar? He couldn't remember. That night seemed so long ago. And then he pulled the hoods off the next two and found himself staring at the king's other son as well.
“By the Seven! Prince Edmond! Prince Drake!”
Both sons were alive. Edouard couldn't believe it! No one would believe it. They were thinner and showed signs of having suffered some abuse. Perhaps they'd been beaten, he couldn't be sure. They had gags in their mouths and they were bound. But they were alive when they were supposed to be dead.
Edouard quickly set about freeing them, pulling out his knife and cutting the ropes that bound their wrists, and then freeing the other two as well. After that he set to work freeing the ones on the floor, wondering who else he might find.
All of them turned out to be senior members of the court. Lords and Counts. Those who had once ruled the city and the realm before everything had gone wrong. All save one as he discovered when he pulled her hood off.
“Kyriel!”
He called out her name in surprise when he saw her. She was alive too, and just when he'd been beginning to lose hope. He couldn't believe it. He didn't understand why she was sitting among the rest of the court as if she was one of them either. Nor why she was dressed not as a handmaiden but rather as some sort of warrior woman. Or for that matter why the court was here at all. Why weren't they locked up with all the others? Why in fact weren't they dead as they were supposed to be? He didn't understand any of it.
“Lord Edouard, it is good to see you again.”
Kyriel greeted him formally as if this was simply a typical meeting between peers. She appeared to have a remarkable ability to ignore the fact that she had just had her hands freed and a gag pulled out of her mouth. And that she was sitting on the floor and her feet were still bound. Even that there had just been a gun battle in
the room. How calm could she be? But then she wrinkled up her nose a little. “It's not so good to smell you though!”
For a moment Edouard almost didn't believe he'd heard her say that. It seemed crazed. But then he realised she had. And he had to admit that he did smell somewhat ripe after wandering through the sewers for days.
“I'm sorry. I've been wandering through the sewers for three or four days.” Edouard didn't want to apologise, even though he knew he smelled rank. But it was only polite. Even under these conditions. Maybe he thought he'd spent too long being schooled in his manners.
“Searching for us?”
“Searching for Vesar.” He corrected her, not wanting to admit that the initial reason he had come into the city in the first place was to find her. “I was planning on killing him. Everyone thinks you and the princes are dead.”
“Oh!” She looked disappointed.
Edouard secretly hoped that that was a further sign of her feelings toward him and cursed himself for being less than truthful. Why was he such a coward when it came to these sorts of things?
