Thunderbolt (Dynasty of Storms Book 2)

by Brandon Cornwell

  As promised, down the left corridor, there was a stairwell at the end, leading up. Elias noted that the stairs were against the outer wall of the fortress, as there were thin windows through which arrows could be fired, which followed the companions as they climbed. A cold wind blew through, chilling Elias's knuckles. He wished he had brought a shorter sword with him. He remembered Jonas's words from almost a year and a half ago that his greatsword would be worthless for fighting inside a building, and he had been right. In these tight quarters, he wouldn't have nearly enough room to swing his giant blade, and if he could, his companions would be in as much danger from him as his enemies would.

  The stairs came to a landing with a door to their right, and another flight of stairs that proceeded upwards. Jonas checked the door, listening. Elias could make out muffled voices, but no details as to what they were saying from where he stood.

  Jonas shook his head. “Too many people in there. I count at least four.”

  Tataramoa nodded. “At least four men at our backs when we move forward. We should take them.”

  Quartz shook her head vehemently. “We wouldn't be able to do it quietly. It's best if we try to pass unnoticed.”

  Jonas looked up to Elias. “Well, Redwood? What do we do?”

  Elias paused, thinking for a moment. He did not like the thought of kicking in a door and making a ruckus; that would force their hand immediately. However, if something went wrong upstairs, there would be at least four men behind them, likely armed and armored. They had dealt with two already, but they had had the element of surprise. If these men had bows or crossbows, then that would be an entirely different story.

  He set his jaw. “We can't leave anyone at our backs.”

  Quartz hissed, grimacing. “We have an entire castle at our backs! We have to be silent, no charging in, flailing our swords about! I told you that you had to do exactly as I said before we started this!”

  Jonas set a hand on her shoulder, pushing her away from the door. “And you said that I was an expert in infiltrating castles.”

  “I said you were experienced!”

  Jonas scoffed. “Well, I'm saying I'm an expert.”

  Quartz pressed herself back against the wall, her eyes narrowed. “You're going to get us all killed!”

  Elias and Tataramoa readied their bows and nocked arrows. Tataramoa drew back his bowstring. “Then best we send these men there to prepare the way for us.”

  Elias drew his arrow back and nodded to Jonas.

  Jonas kicked the door open, revealing the room inside. As Jonas had said, there were four men seated around a round table, coins, mugs of beer, and cards scattered on the surface. Bunk beds lined the walls; there were at least ten of them, with stained blankets piled haphazardly wherever they had been tossed when the occupants of those beds had vacated them.

  As the door flew open, the men inside turned in their chairs to face the intruders, their eyes going wide. Elias and Tataramoa released their arrows, striking two of them in the chest, and immediately nocked new ones. The remaining two soldiers leapt from their seats, cursing and shouting. Elias struck one in the shoulder, while Tataramoa put his second arrow through the fourth man's eye, his head snapping back as he fell with the force of the blow, almost as if he'd been thrown to the ground.

  Jonas rushed forward, crossing the room in four steps, and slashed the man across the stomach, spilling his innards halfway into his lap before he fell, clutching them. His gasp was stopped before it could turn into a scream, when Jonas pushed his sword point through the man's chest, driving his breath out of him.

  From the left, a shirtless man in linen breeches rushed up to Jonas's back, swinging a short sword. Jonas spun to counter the strike, but the man fell to the ground before reaching the older man, a dagger buried in the back of his skull.

  Quartz crouched in the doorway, having just thrown the knife. Rising to her feet, she stalked across the room and removed her dagger from the dead man's head. Wiping it on his pants, she sheathed it on her ankle.

  Glaring at the other three, she gestured angrily back to the doorway. “Well? Someone was bound to have heard that. We have no time now. Let's go.”

  Quartz stepped out through the door and up the stairs, moving quickly. Elias followed her, Jonas and Tataramoa close behind. Elias couldn't hear anyone coming, but he wasn't stopping to listen. If he did, Quartz would vanish from sight. She rounded a corner and was lost for a moment, but when he turned the corner himself, she was jogging down a hallway with ornate doors on either side. She stopped in front of one that was barred from the outside and turned back to Elias.

  When he caught up with her, she tapped the bolt. “This is the one.” She gestured to the door directly across from it, a large, solid, iron-banded double affair with Carloman's crest carved into it, a great mountain with a cavern at the base, beams of light shining out of it.

  “I doubt Carloman will be in there right now, but Eira's door is barred. It means that she is likely inside.” She stepped back. “It is best that you open the door, and that she sees you first, Elias.”

  Elias nodded and set his hand on the bolt. He turned it upwards and drew it back with a solid thunk, and pulled the door into the hall.

  Inside, the chamber was richly decorated in the manner of southern nobility, a stark contrast to the normally dark and rustic decorations of the Northlands. Brightly colored tapestries hung from the walls in the well-lit room, and thick furs covered the floor. There was a large four poster bed on the western wall, with a translucent silk canopy draped between the intricately carved posts, gathered at the corners. On the eastern wall to their right, a fire crackled in a large stone hearth, a pile of firewood stacked neatly nearby. Two overstuffed armchairs were arranged over a thick woven rug in front of the fireplace, making for a rather inviting seating area.

  A painted white vanity sat against the northern wall, directly ahead of them, and seated at the vanity, with her back to them, was an older human woman, her silvery gray hair unbound and falling beneath her shoulders as she brushed it. She wore a white and gray dressing gown, embroidered with the flowing, geometric designs of the Northerners in green thread across her shoulders and sleeves.

  “My Queen,” Elias said, his deep voice quiet, “we've come to bring you home.”

  She froze, then sat the brush down on the table in front of her. Turning, Elias saw the face of his friend's wife for the first time in two summers. Older now than she was then, the passage of time was evident on her face. She looked tired, her face - once youthful despite her advanced years - now lined with weariness and the stress of her ordeal. Her blue eyes opened wide when she saw him.

  “Elias? How have you come here?”

  Elias stepped into the chamber, followed by Tataramoa and Jonas. Eira rose in alarm, but Elias held up a hand. “It is alright, my lady. We are here to help. These are my companions, Tataramoa from the Greenreef islands, and Jonas, of Lonwick. We were guided here by someone you know, Quartz.”

  Eira nodded, her hand resting on her chest. “Quartz came back for me? Why?”

  Quartz stepped into the room. “There is no time for this, Eira. Your master desires your safe return, and my master was compelled to aid him. You need to come with us quickly.”

  Eira narrowed her eyes, obviously wanting to ask more questions, but she was smart enough to keep them to herself for now. “Very well. How will we escape? Where is Carloman?”

  Jonas shook his head. “We haven't seen him yet. You've been his guest for a long time. Do you know where we might find him?”

  Eira looked at Jonas. “Find him? What do you mean to do?”

  Tataramoa nocked an arrow on his bow. “He poses a threat to your son, White Lady, and to your city. We mean to kill him.”

  Eira's eyes darted between the four of them. “And Drakhus?”

  Elias furrowed his brow. “Who is Drakhus?”

  Quartz cursed, the first time Elias had heard her do so.

  Eira frowned. �
��You didn't know about Drakhus?”

  “I knew that there was someone from the Felle aiding Carloman. I didn't know it was Drakhus,” Quartz snapped. “We have to go. Now.”

  “That's not going to happen.”

  The four of them spun to face the door. An enormous man, as tall as Elias was himself, and as thickly muscled, stood in the entryway with his arms crossed. He wore a long, brown, sleeveless tunic that reached his knees, richly embroidered with the same crest that was on Carloman's chamber doors. His breeches were of black leather, loose and gathered by black riding boots. Where the sleeves of his tunic should have been, polished chainmaille glittered in the firelight, his hands covered in red leather gloves, much like what Elias wore, but without the vambraces. The large man's hands rested on the pommels of two short swords that were sheathed and hanging from a broad, intricately tooled leather belt that was tied at his front through a thick silver ring, and hung to just above the hem of his tunic.

  The man's long, wild red hair was gathered at the base of his neck by a leather thong, and his beard hung to his chest, braided on either side of his chin. It pulled his mustache away from his mouth, which was curled in what would otherwise be seen as a friendly smile. His deep brown eyes, though, studied everyone in the room as he blocked the door, and made the kind expression anything but.

  Quartz stepped back, and the man glanced at her. “Welcome back to my home, Quartz. I had hoped you would have returned on more... politically advantageous terms, but I suppose this will have to do.” The man's accent wasn't as thick as others from the Northlands, with his words being clipped, precise, and properly enunciated.

  Jonas brought his sword to bear. “I'm assuming this giant cunt is Carloman?”

  Tataramoa sidestepped, nocking an arrow and bringing it to bear on the huge man. Carloman chuckled and held up his hand. “Please, don't insult me. That's not going to help you. Throw down your weapons, and I'll let you live. I have many questions for you.”

  Tataramoa fired his arrow as Jonas rushed forward, thrusting with his longsword. Carloman moved with blinding speed, slapping the missile out of the air, and drawing one of the swords from his belt, parried Jonas's strike with expert speed and power. Elias dropped his bow, and doffed his shoulder harness, casting the sheath away from his greatsword as he drew it. He brought the point to bear as Jonas disengaged from Carloman, holding his sword at guard.

  Carloman set his jaw, his smile fading into a frown. “I'll tell you one more time. Drop your weapons, and you live. If you do not, I will have you all killed.”

  Without speaking, Elias lunged towards the man, seeking his chest with the point of his sword. In this wide open room, he had more room to swing his blade, and he used it well, turning Carloman's parry into a powerful strike from the man's left. Carloman drew his other sword and used both to catch the blow, bracing himself for the force of Elias's blow. Leaping forward, he closed with Elias, driving the point of one of his swords into Elias's chest.

  Elias felt the blow, which shoved him backwards like a battering ram but did not pierce the dragon hide tunic he wore. Carloman paced to the side while Quartz, Eira, Jonas, and Tataramoa kept their distance, staying out of range of Elias's sword.

  Elias readied his blade, gripping it in both hands, and pressed the attack against Carloman. Sparks flew as the weapons clashed against each other, and Elias got the impression that Carloman was toying with him. The man was much more skilled than Elias was, and it showed in the effortless way in which the man parried his strikes and countered, his sword points missing Elias by a hairsbreadth.

  Elias gritted his teeth, the old, comfortable red haze creeping into his vision. “Take Eira and go!” he shouted to his companions, and launched himself at Carloman, swinging his greatsword with all of his strength, driving Carloman back towards the fireplace.

  Carloman's skillful parries turned into conservative, defensive blocks as he took the brunt of Elias's onslaught directly on the blades of his swords. The larger weapon gouged into the smaller blades, throwing sparks and bits of metal as they struck, when suddenly, one of the shorter swords shattered, the softer steel giving way under the greatsword's superior metal. Carloman fell back against the hearth, and Elias advanced on him, his swordpoint seeking Carloman's heart.

  The lord of Tiefuhr reached a gloved hand into the fireplace and flung a handful of coals at Elias's face. The embers burned as they struck Elias, forcing him back as he swatted at his eyes and chest, the burning coals rolling into his shirt, searing his skin. Cursing, Elias brushed at them, trying to shake them out of his clothing, but his belt caught them around his waist.

  He barely brought his sword up in time to block Carloman's attack, the large man taking the opportunity to gain the upper hand. He closed with Elias, using his free hand to grab the greatsword's handle, jerking it out of the way. He kicked Elias on the inside of his knee, forcing him to a kneel. He raised his short sword to plunge the point into Elias's neck and drove it forward. Elias winced, unable to parry the attack, bringing his free hand up as if to ward off the strike.

  There was a clash of steel, and the blow never landed. Instead, there was a slight brush of wind as the weapon flipped out of Carloman's hand.

  Jonas had struck the lord's blade with his own as if he were swinging a club, and the sword had fallen from Carloman's numbed fingers. Jonas grabbed Elias by the back of the shirt and hauled on him, shouting, “Elias! They're blocking the stairs! We have to find another way!”

  Elias jerked his greatsword upward, sending the hilt crashing into Carloman's chin, knocking the man backwards, and freeing his handle from Carloman's grip. He scrambled to his feet, and fled the room, right behind Jonas, slamming the door and bolting it behind them. He could hear Carloman cursing and shouting from behind the barred door, and smelled smoke.

  “Don't let them get out of the keep! Block the stairs!” Something slammed into the door, and wood splintered. There was another strike, and the splintering grew more insistent as they fled down the hall, away from where they had come.

  Elias could see Quartz and Tataramoa at the end of the hallway. The sea elf was firing arrow after arrow down the hall, around the corner from where Elias could see, and men cried out in pain as the warrior's missiles found their marks.

  Elias cursed as the group ran down the narrow hall. There was hardly enough room for three people to walk shoulder to shoulder down the stone corridor, which gave him no space to use his sword as anything other than a spear with a very short handle. He reached the corner just as Tataramoa ran out of arrows. Pulling the straps of his quiver from his belt, he thrust it at the sea elf and rounded the corner just in time to see a soldier in chainmaille charging forward, holding his sword high.

  Instinctively, Elias reached out for the man's grip, wrapping his massive hand around the man's fist. He bore down and felt the soldier's fingers crush under his strength, causing the man to cry out. Bringing the pommel of his sword to bear, Elias smashed the man's face. Blood splattered as the soldier screamed, and Elias hit him two more times. He went silent after the second blow, and went limp after the third, his face concave in the shape of the pommel of Elias's greatsword.

  Arrows zipped past him as Tataramoa picked his targets, and the soldiers at the end of the hallways retreated. The corridor was littered with dead men. Tataramoa started pulling arrows out of the bodies as they ran through when there was a tremendous crash behind them, the sound of Carloman breaking through the door of Eira's chambers.

  Quartz sprinted down the hall, dragging Eira with her, who struggled to keep up while wearing her dressing gown. Jonas followed closely behind, while Elias and Tataramoa brought up the rear.

  Quartz darted through a door to the left, and Jonas followed. As Elias ran through the door, he saw Jonas engaging three men armed with shortswords, the older man's blade a blur in the torchlight. Before Elias could close with the soldiers and aide his friend, Jonas slashed one man across the stomach, cut off the second man's swor
d hand, and drove his sword through the third man's heart. Kicking the dying man off of his blade, he gave a single, double-handed, downward slash to the chest of the man whose hand he had removed, ending the mans' screams once and for all. The older man turned to Elias, his blue eyes wild from a face splashed with blood. He grinned a huge, ferocious grin.

  “Really gets the blood pumpin', eh lad? Come on, we've got womenfolk to save!” He sprinted to the door on the other side of the room, and kicked it near the latch, sending it crashing open. He disappeared through the door, and the rest of them followed.

  Though they could hear soldiers in the rooms and hallways behind them, no more blocked their path. Eira led them to a stairway that descended to the ground floor, and they burst out into the courtyard.

  Before them were dozens of assembled soldiers, with crossbows aimed at them. Quartz and Eira froze, while Elias, Jonas, and Tataramoa leapt to the front, Elias and Jonas with their swords at the ready, Tataramoa with an arrow drawn, but holding his fire.

  As Carloman stepped through the soldiers, Elias growled. He could feel the burns of the coals in his tunic still searing him; there was blood running down his chest and stomach, but he shoved the pain away. He focused on Carloman, narrowing his eyes. If he was going to die, he was going to take Carloman with him.

  A figure robed all in black, with glossy black silk trim around the hood and the edges of his cloak stepped out of the crowd, next to Carloman. Quartz took a step back, holding her dagger out in front of her as she pushed Eira back to stand behind her.

  The lord of Tiefuhr crossed his arms over his chest again, his stance wide. Smiling his disturbing smile, he looked down at the robed figure. “What shall we do with them, Drakhus?”

  The figure waved a red-gloved hand dismissively. “Kill the old man and the sea rat; they are of no use to us. Cripple the giant, and save the elf whore. I want her, and Lord Tessermyre wants him. As for the queen, do as you will. She is of no concern to the Felle.” The figure's voice was raspy, as if the man underneath was having trouble breathing.