by Duncan Lay
Kerrin pointed his borrowed knife at the castle. “Get them!” he roared, as a stream of men poured in through the castle gate.
CHAPTER 29
Fallon watched Kerrin disappear through the gate and breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was safe. He put down Orhan.
“Can you run, lad?” he asked.
Orhan nodded convulsively and he patted him on the shoulder. “Hold your brother’s hand and we shall get out of this,” he said.
But he could see guards pouring out of the castle, like angry ants from a disturbed nest. Barely fifty heartbeats after Kerrin had made it out of the gate, the way ahead was blocked off and he grabbed Feray, dragging her back towards the stables, the frightened boys with them. Without Kelty the guards were obviously disorganized and Fallon hoped that they would remain so for just a little while longer, until Kerrin returned with help.
But that hope was swiftly dashed.
“There he is, get him!” someone shouted and a squad of guards clattered across the cobbles to surround them, all of them carrying sword and shield.
They were led by a familiar face and Fallon smiled humorlessly as he saw Quinn advance on him, although the officer stayed carefully behind a wall of shields. Fallon pushed Feray behind him and took a two-handed grip on his shillelagh.
“Give up, Fallon. You don’t stand a chance,” Quinn said.
“What would you know about fighting?” Fallon sneered, hoping to keep him talking for as long as possible.
“We only want the woman and the children. Give us them and we can forget all about this,” Quinn said persuasively.
Fallon laughed at him. “Do you think the mad King will forgive and forget? He will want double the sacrifices to heal his face after what I did to him!”
Quinn’s face whitened. “You dare insult the King?”
“He’s a murderer, a Zorva-worshipper and a madman!” Fallon shouted back scornfully.
Quinn shook his head. “You have lost your mind. This is your last chance. Drop your weapon and give us the woman and children.”
“So he can sacrifice them to Zorva? I think not. I have sworn to protect them, just as I have sworn to smash your ugly face into the cobbles, and I don’t break my word,” Fallon told him.
Quinn signaled to his men. “Take him,” he said.
They eased into the advance as Fallon dropped into a crouch. Obviously they had heard about how good he was with the shillelagh, although that gave him no pleasure. He jumped forwards and punched out at a pair of guardsmen, forcing them back a step, but the others closed in and he prepared to sell his life dearly.
“I think you’re about to break your word, Fallon,” Quinn sneered.
Fallon glanced at him, then began to laugh.
“You think this is funny?” Quinn snarled.
For answer, Fallon pointed behind.
“If you think I am going to fall for that old trick—” Quinn began, then the screaming began, followed by the crash of metal on metal.
Quinn and his men all turned, to see what Fallon was enjoying. A flood of men, led by the massive Brendan, were smashing their way through any guards that tried to stop them, sweeping them away like pus from a wound.
“Form line!” Quinn cried, his voice cracking with fear.
His guards hesitated.
“Throw down your weapons if you want to live,” Fallon advised as the rush of his men grew ever closer. The last few guards between them were demolished and his men were pounding towards him – Brendan, Gallagher, Bran, Gannon, Casey and scores of the young recruits he had trained. “Time is running out!”
“Don’t listen to him! Follow me!” Quinn squeaked but his men threw down swords and shields and fell to their knees, hands over their heads. Quinn cursed, backed away and then turned to run. But he had got no more than a few paces when Brendan’s hammer swung around in a vicious blow to crush his back and send him flying into his men.
A rush of recruits knocked the guards down to the cobbles and stood over them with reddened swords and spears.
Brendan flipped his dripping hammer up onto his shoulder. “Could someone please tell me what in Aroaril’s name is going on?” he demanded.
“Where’s Kerrin?” Fallon asked.
Next moment Kerrin squeezed through the lines of men and flung himself at him.
Fallon hugged him fiercely. “You did it! You saved us all!” he whispered.
“Why were they attacking you?” Bran asked.
Fallon kept an arm around Kerrin as he straightened. “King Aidan plans to convert us all to Zorva and then make us carve him out an empire, dedicated to evil. To stay as his captain, I had to sacrifice Kerrin to Zorva.”
The growing circle of his recruits gasped and cried out in horror as they heard his words.
“And who are they?” Bran asked, pointing at Feray.
“The wife and children of the Kottermani Crown Prince. We had captured them and were going to use them to get our families back,” Fallon said. “The King found out and sent Kelty and his men to grab them. Devlin and his men are beaten up but I think they are still alive. And we found the missing children. They are underneath the castle, being held by the King to be killed on Zorva’s altar.”
There were cries of anger, and horror at that.
“Where is the Fearpriest? And where is Kelty? Those guards were even more useless than usual,” Gallagher said.
“I gutted the Fearpriest, put a knife into Kelty’s throat and smashed up the King’s filthy sacrifice room. You’ll know anyone who was there – they will have the marks of my shillelagh on them.”
Now there were growls of fury and cries for vengeance.
“What do we do now?” Brendan asked. “The ship?”
Fallon shook his head. This was a time for revenge. He had tried to avoid it and nearly brought disaster upon them again. Now he would embrace it.
“Gannon, take a squad and go and find the Duchess. We are going to need her before this day is out,” Fallon ordered. To answer some questions from Rosaleen, if nothing else, he added silently.
The big sergeant saluted and ducked into the crowd, calling out for his men.
“Gallagher, stay here with three squads, Kerrin, Feray and her boys. Keep them safe and we shall find them proper quarters after this. Bran, take a squad and find Devlin and the others, bring them back here for treatment if they are alive, for burial if they are not.”
“And what are we doing?” Brendan asked.
Fallon bent down and picked up a fallen sword. “The rest of you, follow me!”
The cheer that followed rattled the tiles along the castle roof.
*
They broke into the castle in several places, driving the remaining guards before them. Without any officers, the guards were confused and massively outnumbered. Some chose to fight and die but many threw down their swords and were sent to the throne room under guard. He sent fifty of the best recruits under Casey to watch them, as well as bar the door that led to the King’s staircase, the one that led up to his rooms or down to the sacrifice room. Nobody would be getting out of there.
The corridors were quiet, except for the occasional ringing clash of steel and horrible scream, which revealed that another guard had tried to resist. The servants stayed hidden.
Fallon led them up to the King’s rooms, sure he would have gone there. And there was perhaps a score of guards outside the room, the last loyal ones, led by Regan.
“Get back, traitor, before the King destroys you all!” the chamberlain spat at them, his usual air of calm torn away.
“Give up now, or you will all die,” Fallon replied.
Regan gestured towards the cluster of guards, who were packed tight around the door. “You will never get past!” he said wildly.
Fallon snapped his fingers and a score of his recruits stepped forwards, crossbows in hands. Half went down on one knee, the others stood behind, and together they brought their weapons up.
“Last chance
. If you have not converted to Zorva, there is still hope for you,” Fallon offered.
A pair of guards dropped their swords and raised hands – only to be hacked down from behind by their former comrades.
“Loose!” Fallon snapped and the two lines released their crossbows.
A score of bolts converged on the huddle of guards and tore through them, then Fallon strode forwards, Brendan at his shoulder.
Regan was still alive, a bolt in his shoulder, and he lunged clumsily at Fallon with a knife. Fallon knocked it away and then rammed his borrowed blade into the chamberlain’s open mouth and deep into his neck, so that it stuck out the back. Regan dropped his knife and was held there, eyes bulging as his lifeblood pulsed out through his mouth, then Fallon ripped the weapon out and let him collapse into death.
A few of the other guards still lived, but were quickly finished off by Fallon’s recruits, then Brendan ran forwards and swung his huge hammer at the door, splintering the lock and sending it crashing open.
Fallon stepped over the writhing bodies of the dying guards and into the room.
The King stood there to meet him, as he had done not a turn of the hourglass ago, yet this time there was no smile on his face. Instead, dried blood from his cut cheek and wide eyes made him look like a madman. Behind him hovered Swane, no trace of a sneer on his face now.
“Run, Father!” he cried, and he vanished out the secret door, back down the stairs.
But Aidan did not run. “Fallon, you bastard, have you come to die?” he cried, a sword in his hand.
Fallon said nothing. His hate was too great to put into words. So he just advanced on Aidan. The King hacked at him furiously but it was easy enough to block the blows until Aidan stepped back, breathing harshly. Then Fallon advanced and, when the King swung his sword viciously but with little skill, he slipped sideways and lunged for the man’s black heart. Aidan jumped backwards and cut out once more and Fallon parried and thrust again, this time at the throat. Aidan threw himself backwards, staggering, tripping and falling. His head slammed into the desk and he collapsed limply, sword rolling from nerveless fingers.
“Finish it,” Brendan rumbled.
Fallon advanced and touched his reddened sword to the King’s throat. From there it would be so easy to end it and gain some revenge for all the King’s evil. But he could not make the final thrust. Not there; not like this. He wanted Aidan to know what was coming and, more than anything else, wanted the people to see what an evil bastard he had been.
“No,” he said. “It’s over. We’ll have the church judge him. Maybe burn him the way he did those witches. Get some rope and tie this bastard up. We shall let the children out and leave Aidan in one of those cells, give him a taste of it.” At the thought, Fallon sheathed his sword but gave the unconscious King a kick in the ribs.
“What about Swane?” Brendan asked.
“He can’t get away,” Fallon said confidently. Casey and fifty men waited in the throne room, while Gallagher and thirty men were watching the other way out in the kitchen garden. Then, with a shock of horror, he remembered the other passageway. The one they had not taken. He did not know where that went.
“Quick, follow me. And bring the King!”
CHAPTER 30
The children were having a great time but it was a different story for the adults. And as the sun began to sink and the time for their escape grew closer, even the little ones began to laugh less, picking up on the tension.
Bridgit had ordered everyone to eat and drink as much as they could manage but she had to force herself to swallow even the fruit, let alone the meat and bread and grains. Not that she had much time for eating. Everyone had to be organized, small groups of men assigned to watch larger groups of women and children. That way, if guards attacked any part of the column of Gaelish, there would be people ready to fight back. The men all had to be given at least some sort of weapon, even if most of them were sharpened chair legs. Still, as she had shown the first time she had crept out into the city, even those could take a life.
The men who had worked in the docks the day before quickly sketched out where the ships were and the most likely ones for them to take. Prince Kemal’s ship had arrived the night before and the men reported all of the surrounding vessels had been cleaned and their water barrels refilled. And food had been stockpiled on the docks, as if they were planning to feed an army.
“It is almost as if they want to head out to sea again immediately,” Ahearn said.
“Who cares what they want to do? It works in our favor,” Bridgit said. She had been trying not to think about Prince Kemal demanding to see her that day but had reassured herself that surely she was low on his list of priorities after arriving back in the country.
Every so often she glanced up at the sky, scared that she had lost track of time and they had missed their chance. Escaping was going to take perfect timing. They had to act just before evening prayers, so they had that opportunity to get as far away as possible. Too early and the city was still busy, too late and they would run into all the guards arriving to take the slaves away. To everyone else she had to be the calm center, reassuring the worriers and pretending to be completely confident. Inside she was as bad as any of them but she just couldn’t show it. It felt like being back with Kerrin, which just made her more determined to get home.
The women had been offering drugged drinks to the guards outside all day and now the soldiers were all sitting down and looking as though they were ready for sleep.
For the past few days, they had been using a stick propped upright in the courtyard to mark when prayers would be called. It cast a shadow that moved along with the sun. A line had been drawn on the ground to show when the call went out around the city and, just before the shadow touched that, they needed to act.
“Now is the time,” she told Riona. “Give the younger children those drinks. Once they start to take effect, we shall strike.”
“Get ready,” she told Carrick and Blaine, the two foolish cousins from Killarney. She did not like them and certainly did not trust them but they were the biggest men she had and they were a vital part of the plan. She just hoped that the lure of escape – and the fear of punishment – would keep them from doing anything stupid.
The younger children gratefully accepted the fresh fruit juice, with the rest going out to the guards in the hands of the prettiest of the wives.
“Invite them inside for something to eat, tell them we have all this extra food and it will all go to waste if they do not join us,” she advised.
“But they don’t speak the King’s Gaelish,” one of the women protested.
Bridgit sighed. Did she have to think of everything herself? “Find Ely and get her to translate,” she said.
But a quick search failed to find her in the building.
“Where is she? Look again, she’s probably hiding under a bed somewhere or with a pack of small children,” Bridgit said urgently.
She joined in this time, going through each room, yet Ely was nowhere in sight.
“Who remembers seeing her?” Bridgit demanded.
A couple of the wives who had been serving drinks to the guards volunteered that Ely had been there for the last round of drugged juice.
“And is that the last anyone saw of her? It must be a turn of the hourglass ago at least!” Bridgit asked, appalled. She had told the girl everything and had been determined to watch her like a hawk – except she had lost track of Ely during the craziness of the afternoon’s preparation for escape.
She took one look at the shadow creeping over the garden and came to a decision. Either Ely had run away, hoping to save herself in the event of them being captured or she had gone to Gokmen with news they planned to escape. She prayed that was not the case.
“Has she betrayed us?” Ahearn asked the question they were all wondering.
“If she wanted to betray us, she would have told the guards outside,” Bridgit said briskly, hoping that was true. “Th
ey would have taken us away and we wouldn’t be having this talk now. She was scared of being caught trying to escape. Unlike us, she doesn’t have anything to go home for. She’s probably just hidden herself somewhere in the city and will hope to lie her way out of trouble tomorrow.”
“It is an awful risk,” Nola said worriedly.
“No more than the risk we already faced. We go anyway. Give it a count of two hundred to let the drugged drinks work and then we make our move. Go when I strike one of the guards,” Bridgit said. “To your places. You all know what must be done.”
She watched them hurry away and prayed she was right.
*
Kemal rubbed sleep from his eyes. Once back in Adana he had slept for a night and most of a day, waking only at the insistence of his servants.
“There is a girl here to see you – she displays your token, high one,” they said, bowing low.
“Send her in. And get me something fresh to eat. As much fruit as you can find,” he said, his stomach growling. He had enjoyed the best of the food on board the ship but there was little fresh to be had in Gaelland, with spices needed to disguise the taste of their salted beef and lamb.
He was wiping juice off his beard when she came in, bowing low. “Ely,” he greeted. “And what brings you here like this? I thought you were to report to me only when I gave the signal?”
“My apologies, high one. But I have urgent news,” she said. “As you ordered me to, I have gained the confidence of their leader Bridgit and she has included me in her plans.”
He snapped his fingers. “Then speak. I do not have much time.”
She straightened up. “High one, they are planning an escape. They will try to steal a ship this night and sail back to their country.”
Kemal leaned back, trying to get his tired mind to think. His first instinct was to call for the guards but perhaps that was a mistake. He needed to get them back to Gaelland anyway and maybe this was a way to get that past his father. Freeing the slaves would outrage the Emperor – as would a slave escape – but at least if they escaped, the blame would fall on the likes of Gokmen. He could protect the man and gain an ally who would be pathetically grateful to him, as well as have the perfect excuse to take a large force back to Gaelland. He congratulated himself on the foresight that had led him to make Ely the translator for the Gaelish while he was away. She had been tutor to Feray, Asil and Orhan, as well as to himself, teaching them all the Gaelish tongue so they would be ready to take up their duties in the new land.
