by Ben Cassidy
There was a shout from above, and an answering yell from further away.
Kendril kept running. He turned the last bit of the corner and burst through the open doorway.
He was back in the central hallway of the palace. The front doors were to his right, and to his left were the darkened stairs leading up to the building’s second and third floors.
There were also half a dozen guardsmen, some running down the palace stairs and others emerging from other doorways in the hall.
Kendril dove forward, another pistol already in his hand.
The closest soldier was fumbling for his rapier when Kendril blasted him back into a small table against the wall. The force of the impact knocked one of the giant portraits above off its perch, and the frame gave a loud crack as it fell onto the floor below.
Kendril didn’t have time to watch.
He turned back to the stairs, and drew one of his short swords.
One of the guards swung a halberd through the air at him. The blade cut through the hanging smoke in an arc towards Kendril’s head.
Kendril ducked, and battered back the haft of the weapon with his sword.
The soldier reacted quickly, thrusting forward with the sharp point of the halberd.
Kendril leapt to the side, caught the wooden shaft of the weapon and yanked it from the man’s hands. He thrust the butt of the halberd back into the soldier’s stomach, doubled him up and sent him careening back into a potted plant.
Kendril let the polearm drop with a clatter, and reached for his second sword.
There was a sharp twang to Kendril’s right, and an arrow blurred across the room, and transfixed one of the guards coming down the stairs.
The other two reached the bottom, and dodged off to the either side.
Kendril spared a brief instant to glance over towards the stairway.
Kara was kneeling behind a chair against the wall, reaching for another arrow. A soldier ran towards her from the opposite direction.
Kendril finished drawing his other sword, then moved across the wide hallway quickly to intercept the man. He blocked the guard’s blow with one of his swords, and slashed at him with the other.
The soldier circled around, narrowly avoiding Kendril’s swipe.
A gunshot tore into the chair by Kara’s head and sent stuffing and wood flying in all directions.
She ducked back instinctively, and dropped the arrow she had been fitting to her bow.
A shout came down the hall, answered by another from further up the stairs.
With a snarl Kendril took two quick steps forward, bashed the soldier’s blade out of the way and carved the man’s face open with a quick second blow.
The Guardsman fell back with a scream, covering his bleeding face with both hands.
Kendril kicked him hard, and sent him flying back onto the ground.
“Kendril!” came Kara’s voice from behind him.
The Ghostwalker spun in time to see the first soldier coming at him again with his upraised halberd.
Kara dropped her bow and reached for the dagger at her belt.
Kendril was just bringing up his own sword in a desperate attempt to block the heavy halberd’s blow when a pistol shot tore into the man’s head at point-blank range, killing him instantly.
Sir Mulcher stepped into the hallway, a smoking pistol in one hand and his rapier in the other. His men began piling out of the stairway one after the other, readying crossbows and drawing swords as they fanned out across the hallway.
“Get moving, you dogs!” Mulcher roared. Pistol smoke wreathed his head. “Lentille, get your men to that gatehouse. Go!”
Mulcher’s men took positions along the hallway. A group of five raced up the stairs, firing crossbows as they went.
Mulcher stood in the center of the hall, shouting orders and cursing his men on as they poured out of the stairwell.
Joseph emerged as well, sparing a quick glance at the bodies already strewn about the hallway.
The sounds of combat filled the palace as Mulcher’s men fought it out with the Royal Guards floor-to-floor and room-to-room.
Lieutenant Lentille gathered his men along the wall of the hallway, preparing to move out the front palace doors.
Kara moved to the bottom of the staircase, and fired several arrows towards the floors above. She ducked back, narrowly getting out of the way as a chair came crashing down onto the ground from above.
Kendril ducked into the relative safety of a doorway, and swiftly reloaded his pistols. A crossbow bolt thumped into the wall next to his head. He didn’t even flinch.
Joseph threw himself on the other side of the same doorway. He looked down the hall toward the front doors of the palace.
“What now?” he shouted over the sound of gunshots and clanging steel all around them.
Kendril was about to respond when the front doors of the palace flew open. Six Royal Guards moved forward, all holding matchlock muskets. They dropped to their knees, and six more guards formed behind them and leveled their guns over the heads of the first rank.
Sir Reginald appeared to one side, his rapier raised high in the air.
“Kara!” Joseph shouted.
He dashed forward and crashed into Kara, who was standing with her back to the front doors, and knocked her to the ground.
“Fire!” Reginald shouted.
With a deafening roar, all twelve muskets went off.
Bathsby had one hand on the frightened priest’s lapel when a gunshot echoed over the courtyard.
Someone in the church congregation screamed, and people began to rush for the door.
Another gunshot sounded from the palace, and then another.
Bronwyn paused for a moment, staring at the pandemonium in shock.
Serentha’s eyes flew open. She flung out an arm and smacked the amulet out of Bronwyn’s outstretched hand.
The stone struck the ground and skittered off under one of the pews.
Bronwyn gasped and leapt into the stampeding crowd after it.
Bathsby turned his enraged face towards Serentha.
Still dizzy, she lurched off the dais, and grabbed the top of one of the pews for support.
Bathsby hurled the priest back against the altar and went after her.
Three of Mulcher’s men fell to the ground as smoke and thunder erupted from the barrels of the Royal Guard muskets.
Sir Mulcher fell back against a sofa that rested against the wall, hit in the arm. He grunted in pain, then switched his sword to his good hand as he tried to rise.
“Kill them!” screamed Reginald. He thrust his rapier through the swirling smoke.
As one man the twelve guards dropped their muskets, drew their rapiers and charged forward with a shout.
Joseph rolled off Kara, pulled himself to his feet and readied his rapier. He glanced over to his right.
Kendril was gone.
Sir Mulcher staggered away from the wall, blood streaming from the wound in his arm.
Several of his men came up behind him. Within moments they were all locked in combat with the Royal Guards.
Swords flashed and clanged in the hall as both sides fought for dear life. From above came the frenzied sounds of combat on the second floor. A body came crashing down the staircase, and rolled to a stop at the bottom.
Kara pushed to her feet and swung her bow out. She fitted an arrow and aimed it at Sir Reginald’s head.
Joseph dodged out of the way as she fired.
The shaft flitted down the hall towards the nobleman. At the last moment a guardsman accidentally dodged into the path, and the arrow struck him instead.
Kara cursed and reached for another arrow.
To her right Joseph blocked an incoming blow from one of the Guards, and returned with a quick thrust of his own.
Kara bent back her bow to fire, but Sir Reginald had already disappeared from view. She caught a quick glimpse of him as he ducked through one of the doors to the ballroom.
We
aving her way through the swirling combat, Kara leapt around the shattered frame of a fallen portrait, and dodged through slashing blades toward the ballroom door.
Serentha tripped on one of the pews, and crashed to the stone floor. She got up quickly, using the bench for support.
The room was still spinning, but her head was slowly clearing from the effects of Bronwyn’s spell.
The chapel was filled with the screams and shouts of the people running towards the exit. From outside came the sounds of even more gunshots.
Serentha had just made it to the end of one of the pews when a heavy hand came down on her shoulder, spun her around and threw her heavily to the ground.
Serentha cried out in pain as she hit the ground. The acrid taste of blood filled her mouth.
A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.
It was Lord Bathsby. “You’re not going anywhere.” He twisted her arm back.
She gasped in pain, and looked up into his face.
It was twisted in complete rage. There was a maddened look in his eyes.
Serentha cringed back in fright.
Lord Bathsby dragged her forward, and threw her back towards the front of the empty church.
“Now we finish this,” he spat. “Bronwyn!”
She appeared from behind a pew, lifting the amber amulet once more.
“At your service, my Lord,” she said in a silky voice.
Joseph gave a final feint, and threw his opponent fatally off guard. He ran his rapier through the man’s heart, then took a step back and surveyed the turbulent scene around him.
The Royal Guardsmen were fighting valiantly, but they were losing the battle in the palace hall.
More of Mulcher’s men were pouring up through the stairway that led down to the basement, and the Guardsmen were beginning to waver, steadily pressed back towards the front doors of the palace.
Sir Mulcher was fighting like an enraged beast, even with his wounded arm. His voice rose above the tumult, egging his troops on.
Joseph sidestepped one of Mulcher’s fallen men, and glanced over to the doorway where Kendril had been.
The door was open, but there was no sign of the Ghostwalker.
His thoughts were immediately torn in a different direction as he saw a fluttering wisp of Kara’s green cloak vanish through the ballroom door.
Adjusting his grip on his rapier, Joseph started forward, slashing right and left as he tried to follow her.
Around him, Mulcher’s men gave up a ragged cheer as the survivors of the Guard fled out the palace doors. With a triumphant shout, Sir Mulcher lifted his blade high, and led his men in pursuit.
Joseph continued to make for the ballroom door, the rapier clenched in his sweaty hand.
Something told him there would be trouble ahead.
Lord Bathsby threw Serentha against the dais steps. He drew his rapier. “Bronwyn!”
Serentha tried to get up, but the point of Bathsby’s sword flashed towards her, the point an inch from her neck.
“Don’t think I won’t kill you, Your Highness,” he said in a low voice.
“You’re insane,” she said. She tore the veil away from her face. “You’ll be hanged for treason.”
“I’ll be King!” the nobleman retorted. “And you will be my Queen. At least for now. Bronwyn!”
The raven-haired woman slid into view and lifted the glowing amulet towards Serentha’s face.
Serentha shrank back, grabbing at the steps behind her.
“Don’t worry,” said Bronwyn with an evil smile. “Before you know it, this will all be over…”
Kara went through the door with her bow loaded and ready to fire. The ballroom was dark and empty, the large windows against the far wall casting the starlight onto the polished wood floor.
There was no sign of Reginald.
Kara started to turn.
There was a dull gleam of metal to her left and a blade came out of the darkness towards her.
She had no time to react to the blow. Spinning around the best she could, Kara fired off the arrow blindly. The shaft disappeared into the blackness.
A second later the sword cut through the top of the hunting bow, breaking it in two and barely missing her arm.
Kara stumbled back, and reached for her knife.
The blade swiped back around. It caught her on the top of her left arm and tore down towards her wrist.
Crying out in pain, Kara fell to the ground and landed hard on her back.
A heavy boot stomped down on her right arm and pinned it to the floor. A half-second the blade came at her throat. It stopped just above her skin.
“Well, well,” said a sickeningly familiar voice. “I had a feeling we’d meet again, Red.”
The figure stepped into view, the starlight revealing his face.
“This time,” said Sir Reginald as he curled his lips, “I’ll have to be sure you learn your lesson.”
There was a sharp crack, and the amber amulet shattered into a dozen pieces.
Bronwyn gasped, and grabbed her hand.
Bathsby whirled his head around.
Kendril was standing at the doors of the chapel, his black cloak billowing behind him in the night breeze. Gun smoke curled around him. He whipped out a second pistol, and aimed it at Bathsby.
Bronwyn stepped back, cradling her hand and slinking into the shadows.
Bathsby snarled. He thrust the tip of his sword toward Serentha’s neck. “Come any closer and I’ll kill her,” he warned.
Kendril didn’t lower the gun. “That’s the act of a coward, Bathsby, not a soldier.”
With trembling hands, Serentha reached up to her head and pulled out a hairpin. Her long blonde locks fell down around her shoulders.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Bathsby spat. “This is none of your affair.”
“You framed me and tried to kill me,” Kendril retorted. He continued to step forward. His pistol didn’t waver. “That makes it my affair.”
Bathsby grabbed Serentha roughly by the arm, and pulled her to her feet. He pushed the princess in front of him, keeping the sword across her neck.
“It’s over, Bathsby,” said Kendril. “Let her go.”
The nobleman’s eyes flamed. “It’s not over until I say it is, Ghostwalker.” He pushed the edge of the blade harder against Serentha’s neck, causing the young woman to gasp. “One more step,” he growled, “and I’ll cut her throat wide open.”
Kendril stopped, the pistol still pointed at Bathsby’s head. He looked down at Serentha for a brief moment, and met her gaze.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and clutched the hairpin in her hand.
“Throw down the pistol, Kendril,” said Lord Bathsby. “Now.”
With all the might she could muster, Serentha jammed the hairpin into Bathsby’s arm.
Joseph didn’t have time to think.
Sir Reginald was outlined against the ballroom windows, standing over a wounded Kara with his sword ready to strike.
Joseph felt something pop in the back of his head. He raced forward and swung his rapier out and around.
Sir Reginald leapt back, and the two crossed blades with a shocking impact.
To Joseph’s surprise Sir Reginald recovered instantly. The nobleman struck back quickly and easily, parrying each of Joseph’s thrusts.
Faster than any eye could see, their swords slashed through the air, whispering and screeching as they connected.
Sir Reginald was a good swordsman, Joseph realized with a sinking heart. A very good swordsman.
He spun and slashed away a skillful blow aimed at his midsection.
The ballroom was dark, and Joseph fought more by feel than by sight. The expanse of empty space was so big that their swordfight ranged back and forth with nothing to impede them save the curtains against the far wall.
Out of the corner of his eye Joseph saw Kara get to her feet, using her good arm to push herself up.
Reginald took a r
isky stroke, and missed by too much.
It left an opening in his defense. It was small, but it was enough.
Joseph took a step back, and prepared to jam the tip of his rapier into Sir Reginald’s chest. He stepped on something behind him.
Before he could stop himself, the object rolled away and took his leg with it.
Bathsby gave a strangled curse and reached for the sharp hairpin that was stuck into his arm.
Serentha ducked under his blade, and threw his arm aside as she hurled herself towards the nearest pew.
Bathsby recovered his wits instantly, and dodged to the side.
It was the chance Kendril had been waiting for.
His pistol roared, and flame spurt from the muzzle of the gun.
The bullet skinned the top of Lord Bathsby’s shoulder, and drilled into the wooden altar behind him. He stumbled back, biting his teeth in pain and almost dropping his rapier.
Kendril threw the smoking pistol to the ground, and drew both his short swords.
Serentha scrambled to her feet, and looked back at the Ghostwalker.
Kendril leapt over the altar rail and up onto the dais, his blades at the ready.
Lord Bathsby pulled himself up, smiling despite his injuries.
“Run, Jade!” Kendril yelled back at her.
With a roar of pure hatred, Bathsby launched himself towards the Ghostwalker.
Something wooden skittered off into the darkness under Joseph’s foot, and he felt himself fall.
It was Kara’s broken bow, he realized the moment before he hit the ground. Or a piece of it, anyway.
Not that it really mattered.
Joseph struck the ground with his elbow, bruising it badly against the polished wood beneath him. He tried desperately to regain his feet, but it was too late.
Sir Reginald’s blade came down at him.
Joseph quickly rolled to one side to protect his chest.
A lance of fiery pain shot through his side and burned a hole through his ribs.
Gasping, Joseph fell back onto the hard floor. The rapier dropped from his hand and clattered onto the ballroom floor. He fell onto his back and felt warm blood spread across his shirt. Pain shot up and down his side. His vision swam.
