by D. H. Aire
Terhun grabbed his bane sword, a gift from Her Majesty that came with the post. “Needless to say, you are to stay clear of that herald!” He opened the door a crack, heard nothing untoward and rushed out, sword drawn. No one was about, he gestured and Clawd, dagger in hand ran one way and he the other.
The servants who could reach it in time fled back into the kitchen with its stout doors and wards against ill. The door shattered under the battery of spells as a black clad mage entered. The men, women, and children scurried back, crying out in fear.
“You have served the Empress well,” he said. “But orders are orders, no witnesses.”
He sang out the elvin word that called magefire to his fingertips.
Cringing, the servants closed their eyes, pleading, “Please, no!”
Bam.
Death did not come.
They looked up and cried out in shock and horror.
“Hungry…”
All save Chef, who stared and shrugged. “Hungry, are you? They you’ve come to the right place. Well,” he said to the cooking staff, “this fellow’s hungry. Let’s make him a feast fit for… someone his size, eh?”
The person in question gripped, “Back soon… then.”
“Don’t be going too far.”
“Will… not.”
He slipped back out the way he’d come.
“Did you know the hearth swiveled out like that, Chef?”
“No… and doesn’t even make a sound. Hmm, you, put the water on to boil. Lots of it, we’re going to need it more than for food, I dare say!”
Esperanza suddenly overturned her bowl, water splattered, “Je’orj’s coming to the palace. Must nearly be here. Lee, something’s wrong!”
There was a knock at the door. There was a page outside, “Milord, Master Terhun sent me to warn you. There’s a rat in palace name Fenryth, but I thinks it’s lots more rats than just him.” Message given the boy ran off.
“Fine, Es, we’re going to need your scryers as back up.”
She shook each, bringing them out of their thrall. “Keep your daggers close. The Empress needs each and every one of us.”
Clawd ran to where the secret panel had been. He pounded, “Lady Mallory! Please, we need your help! Lady Mallory!”
There were footsteps behind him. The herald glared at him, dagger in hand. “Newly raised to page, you little spy, I’m truly sorry to have to cut your life so short.”
Clawd’s eyes widened.
Bam. The man went down hard. The ogre canted his head, “Who… you?”
“Uh, Clawd.”
“Aclawd.”
“No, I’m Clawd.”
“Clawd?” He nodded, “Clawd. Friend.”
“Yeah… Mallory’s my friend.”
The ogre turned at a sound, Clawd ran up to him, “Lots of bad men in the palace. We need your help.”
“Come… help.”
“Yes, come on then.” The ogre followed him. “Oh, what’s your name?”
The ogre paused as they came upon a black clad man, charging them with a dagger in one hand and a short sword in the other.
Bam.
The figure slid down the wall in a heap.
“Murfy,” he replied, smiling.
Clawd heard swords clashing and a black garbed man was backing down the side corridor. Murfy swung a meaty fist down on his head. Bam. Down the fellow went.
A glowing sword slowly poked around the corner. The ogre frowned. The man was not in black. “I got help, Master Terhun.”
“I see that. Well met, my new friend.”
Murfy grinned.
The mages entered the courtyard. The dwarves were frozen in mid-motion. Tett’s eyes were wide. There were a score of mages, all young. They ignored the dwarves and walked up to the house, magefire rising from their fingertips as the wards around the manor crackled, hampering their attempt at harm.
There was the sound of hooves and the two remaining battle steeds were suddenly among them. They kicked and bit as the elfbloods cried out. The spell holding the dwarves was broken, Tett and his fellows yelled battle cries.
The door to the house was thrown wide and a pale winged falc flew forth and scratched at the nearest elfblood. Balfour cried, “They’re little more than children!”
Spiro sang out a spell as several sought to escape, the boys fell to their knees, nursing the bites the steeds had given their hands and arms. The steeds shook their heads, tears splattering them.
Cle’or muttered, “Oh, Je’orj is just going to love that.”
The elfbloods began to tremble, becoming a bit feverish as Balfour waded in healing the wounded. Thinking if only he could heal the curse overtaking them, would he?
No sooner had George at least slowed Babylon down outside the palace when arrows took flight.
Staff flared, the arrows stopped mid-air and turned to ash. The black clad bowmen drew and let fly again. The sergeant shouted orders and three elfblooded legionnaires rode their steeds forward beyond Staff’s perimeter. Arrows hit them and shattered. The men stared as legionnaires cut them down or the steeds kicked out with their hind legs and hastily bit those they sensed had even the faintest amount of elvin blood before they could do anything more.
Se’and tightened her grip, knocking the wind from his lungs. “Don’t you dare complain!”
The Imperial stables were known for their fine horses. The stables looked up at the palace and it terrace gardens and grand steps that were wide enough to serve as seats for equestrian displays. The recent addition of Lord Lyai’s mounts only enhanced its reputation. No few had remarked at the beauty and sheer size of those mount.
However, the stable hands were hunkered down as they saw a man clad in black propelled out a window, shards of glass raining down. An ogre looked out the window and waved.
The Lyai’s rather large horses shoved open the doors to their stalls sensing the mare, their mistress, calling. The stable hands dove out of the way of the ten steeds racing toward the back steps of the south wing of the palace.
“Duck, Milord!” one of his bodyguard shouted as he dodged to the side. The thrown dagger flashing by him as the guard parried the black clad assassin’s sword strike, only to scream in surprise and horror as he was grabbed from behind and thrown, careening out the stain glass window. An ogress blocked their path, but made no move to harm them. She looked out the shattered window and waved.
Turning to him and his wife, their guards and rather frightened group of scryers gaping, the ogress said, “Well… do I have… to defend… the Empress… by myself… or what?”
“No, Ma’am,” he replied, grinning, then grasped his wife’s hand,
“Come on!”
“My word…” Esperanza muttered.
Aaprin grimaced, looking about the main hall of the Academy. The library was gone, somehow taken to the Old Hall. They had searched but found nothing that even suggested it was the key to finding the entrance to the place.
Gallen saw him losing hope. She took his hand, “Think, Aaprin, where could it be? Have we missed something or is it somehow here?”
Gripping her hand tight, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The hall was clearly abandoned. Chairs and benches out of place or overturned in haste, like the dormitories even the kitchens.
Nothing… what?
“Aaprin?” Gallen said as he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
He turned to his left, eyes opening wide, “Revit, Terus, over there, what’s that?”
“Huh? It’s just an old tapestry,” Revit said.
“Ever seen it before?”
Terus responded, “That’s always been there.”
“Yes, I suspect that’s true,” Aaprin said, half-dragging Gallen along as he ran up to it. “What’s it depict?”
Revit and Terus hastened over and Revit said, “It’s just the city as it was as seen from the river.”
“Then why’s the river is on the eastern side instead of the western?” Aaprin asked.
Gallen frowned, “It should be rougher looking on this side then.”
“Everyone, hold hands, if I’m right this is the entrance.”
“Very good, lad,” a voice said behind them. “Thank you for helping me find it.” They turned to see a large goblin mage standing in the hall’s entryway, etching in a warding fire, calling magefire to his hand. “Once that gateway’s destroyed Stenh and those foolish enough to follow him will be lost forever.”
:Riding horses through the palace was likely not part of the architects’ vision,: Staff said as they damaged the carpet. :Heat source detected!:
Magefire battered his shields, which crackled with electricity as Babylon sidestepped and Se’and clutched her lord tight with one hand and drew and threw one of her throwing blades one handed.
The blade stopped mid-air, spun about and arrowed back. Babylon reared and struck the blade aside as Se’and slid back only to be bounced back forward as the steed bucked to help reseat them.
Dizzied, George muttered, “Thanks.”
The mage backed away as the over large horse glared at him.
Bam.
Down he went as ogre came out of the shadows. “Buenos... diaz.”
“Uh, gracias, mi amigo.”
The ogre grinned as Se’and frowned and the sergeant’s mount came up behind them with Varian complaining about their destroying the carpeting that is until he saw the ogre.
“Um, where did he come from?”
“Now Varian, do I have to explain to you where little ogres come from?” George heard himself say. “Staff, stop that!”
:Oh, you’re no fun at all, George.:
Se’and sighed, “Varian, where should we find the Empress?”
“Uh, down that way,” he replied, frowning.
The palace was warded in many ways. Sound was muffled, giving the Empress a sense of privacy. She ate alone, wondering if she were a bit mad, when she heard her guards scream outside. The door was blasted off its hinges by magefire. The wards shrilled with the breach as she hastily rose and backed toward the tapestry behind her. Her two bodyguards only recently come to duty surround her, then one stabbed the other, “No, Your Majesty, this is for your own good.”
“How dare you,” she said. “You’ve broken your oath.”
He gasped, dropped his sword and grabbed his throat, falling to the floor.
A dagger was suddenly at her throat, “Your Majesty will utter no spells or I shall have to cut you. You see, I don’t need you pretty. I just need you.”
“Grendel,” she rasped.
“Now say my name with love, we’re to be married after all.”
She stared, then screamed, “Never!”
Sianhiel cursed as they entered the First Tier grounds of the palace with its unguarded portcullis. Then one of Lord Je’orj’s legionnaires rode out of the darkness on the right, blocking their way, “Milord.”
“Legionnaire, we’re here to help and have.”
“Aye, I recognize you… You may pass, but I must warn you—” A window shattered and a black clad figure was blasted by magefire. “The, uh, palace is infested with intruders.”
There were groans behind them. Sianhiel glanced to the left and saw black clad men either writhing or trussed up another mounted legionnaire guarding them. The elflord shook his head, then gestured and spurred his mount toward the palace steps, his kinsmen charging after him.
Chapter
31
The black clad invaders were forced back by Lord Lyai’s guards and the ogress, who served as battering ram and personal catapult. Statues of Empresses past shattered against their raised ward barriers, flaring. White dust filled their air, making the mages cough and lose concentration.
Then as they backed toward a cross corridor Terhun’s bane sword sang. They turned as Murfy cackled, “Stars above! Ogres below deck!”
The black clad fell to an elfblood. Terhun paused, breathing hard as Clawd shouted, “This way!”
Lee grinned, “Well met, Master Terhun, was this part of the plan?”
“Let’s hope my scheme worked, or all may be lost.”
“We cannot get out this way,” the black clad mage accompanying him shouted as Grendel half-dragged the charm bound Empress behind him.
“Then we’ll have to forego having a ceremony and go directly to the wedding night.”
The Empress’s eyes wide, Grendel kicked down a door and yelled, “Make certain no one disturbs us. This won’t take long, then the Gate will be mine.”
“You can’t,” she rasped.
He shoved her to the floor.
“You leave me no choice.” The doors closed behind them and he muttered wardings to reinforce their privacy. “I am your proper consort, you foolish girl!”
He looked about the empty room which offered an inside balcony overlooking the ballroom. “We’ve a room with a view, my dear, how lovely.”
She struggled to sit up, couldn’t even reach to dislodge the charm he’d set across her neck with but a bespelled silver chain. He knelt and pushed back her skirts, “How many layers do you wrap yourself, you vapid…” He tore the underclothing beneath as she fought to kick him, her eyes wide with horror.
“Who would have thought you are so shapely beneath all this wrapping, Your Majesty?”
“Stop… Stop this! I am your Empress!”
“And I am the one who will be your consort,” he replied, loosening his pantaloons, “and as Highmage will forestall this lunacy! Now, will you give me a proper kiss or must this become rather unpleasant?”
Clop, clop, clop. George and Se’and ducked their heads as they entered the empty room the dinner scattered about and a dead guard sprawled on the floor, “Your Majesty!” George cried.
Se’and slid down as Herald Varian slid off the sergeant’s steed. “No! She should be here!”
The sergeant dismounted as five other legionnaires on their mounts crowded in behind him in the wide corridor, which was still not wide enough to accommodate even three such steeds abreast.
“They’ve taken her,” Varian gasped. “But they can’t have.”
“Herald,” Se’and said, “where might they have taken her?”
“But she’s here… as I told you. I’m her herald. I feel it through the High Oath. She’s here I say!”
“Varian?” the Empress’s voice said. “Je’orj, it’s really you…”
Reality rippled near the far wall and out stepped the Empress clothed as a servant with no finery at all. “Your Majesty!” Varian exclaimed.
“It was Grendel. He’s taken my half-sister Carwina. Find her. He’ll kill her as soon as he realizes his mistake!”
George looked at his mount, “Protect the Empress, you lot stay with her! Sergeant, I’ll take the rest of the steeds with me.”
Lonny nickered.
The stallions nodded as the legionnaires took up positions. The steeds ran riderless ahead. Se’and muttered, “Somehow I don’t think that’s what you meant.”
He ran after, “No, but my backside appreciates it!”
The door reverberated giving Grendel pause. “Well, my dear, we’ve time enough.”
“Let me go!”
The door thudded, his wards flared.
“Let’s be done with this.”
She screamed, “No!”
No! You shall not! a disembodied voice cried.
The ogres roared, battering the remains of the black clad figure that vainly tried to hold them off.
Terhun was bashing at the door which was flaring red and screamed, “No!”
There was a pounding of hooves. The ogres backed out of their way as the foremost pivoted and kicked back, shrilling. The ward shattered with the door. Wood flew back spinning, knocking Grendel backward. He fought to stand, his dropped pants tangling in his legs.
Yanking them off as he struggled to stand, Grendel cursed as ogres, Terhun, and guards rushed inside. Grendel turned, “Thi
nk you’re a match for me?”
“If he’s not, I doubtless am!” George cried entering the room as the horses made way for him.
That’s when he shouted back, “This is not over!” and ran onto the balcony, then leapt to the floor below.
“After him!” Terhun cried.
Murfy ran and leapt roaring with anger.
Esperanza knelt by the crying and terrified woman, yanking off and casting aside the charm that had bound her. Se’and reached her and went to her kneels at her other side, “Carwina?”
“I… I couldn’t… let go… the illusion charm,” she whimpered, her hand still curled around it.
Terhun fell to his knees beside her, “I never meant for this to happen. I’m so sorry, Milady.”
Esperanza settled back Carwina’s skirts, “Did he…”
“No…” Carwina sobbed. “No…”
Se’and helped her sit up and cradled Carwina in her arms, glancing up at her lord, “I hope you won’t think me heartless, but I will kill him one day.”
“I won’t hold it against you,” he promised.
Clawd shouted from the balcony, “There are ten horses chasing Grendel around the ballroom.”
Lord Lyai ran out and shouted, “Those would be ours! Between them, they and Murfy will have him cornered soon.” Shaking his head, “He has the palest legs I’ve ever seen.”
“Sounds like a job for Staff and I.”
Se’and said, “Keep him from harm, Lady Mallory.”
Esperanza frowned as the ogress bowed, “I shall… Milady.”
One of the steeds knelt and George mounted glad of a saddle as his staff blazed. “Thank you. To the ballroom before Grendel decides to torch the place.”
He had been running toward the glass doors the ogre ducking his blasts of magefire only to see the glass shatter as ten warhorses burst onto the ballroom floor. “This can’t be happening!”
Lord Sianhiel shouted, “Surrender, Traitor!”
“I am no traitor!” he cried, waving his hands crying out a warding.
