“Not these,” Brutas growled. “Where is Olyva? I know she was in Hamill Keep.”
The countess looked as if she had swallowed something foul.
“Where is she!?” Brutas screamed.
“We haven’t seen her,” one of the countess’ daughters spoke up. “Not since we arrived in Avondale.”
“What is your name?” Brutas asked.
“Cassandra.”
“Tell me what happened in Hamill Keep.”
“We can’t say for certain, my lord. We weren’t with our father when he met with Olvya and her friends.”
“But they were there? My baby brother, as well?”
“Yes,” Cassandra said. “There was a riot, and we fled in the sky ship.”
“And your father?”
“My husband,” the countess said, with an angry look at her daughter, “was murdered.”
“By who?” Brutas said eagerly.
“By his son,” Countess Mauryn said, pointing at Grentz.
The sword master felt a stab of hatred for the woman. His son had saved her life and brought her safely to Avondale, and now she was turning on him. He cleared his throat and spit on the floor to show his disdain for the countess.
“My son was banished from Avondale,” Grentz said. “How could he possibly kill your husband?”
It was a gamble, Grentz knew, but he wasn’t going to simply give up Rafe without a fight.
“He and his friend are sorcerers,” the countess said with a sneer. “They corrupted my daughter and killed my husband.”
“My lord,” Grentz said softly. “She’s insane.”
“No,” Brutas said. “Guards!”
Grentz’s soldiers moved forward uncertainly.
“Take Commander Grentz’s weapons!” Brutas ordered.
“On whose authority?” Grentz said.
“On mine.”
“You are the earl’s son, but you do not command me,” Grentz said.
“I am the Earl of Avondale!” Brutas screamed.
“No,” came a commanding voice from down the hallway. “I am the Earl of Avondale.”
Grentz looked up and was as surprised as anyone to see Earl Ageus looking strong and full of vitality. He never would have believed that the earl could leave his bed chamber, even though he had seen the earl early that morning after Tiberius had used magic to help his father. The earl had requested food, which was an improvement, but he was still too weak to get out of bed. Earl Ageus was much thinner than before the illness, but otherwise he seemed healthy, like he was ready to lead an army into battle. His personal guard flanked him down either side of the long hall, adding to the earl’s projection of strength.
“Father?” Brutas said. “You should be in bed.”
“I have no need,” the earl said as he drew near to his son. “The illness has passed, and I am fully capable of seeing to all my responsibilities.”
“If you say so,” Brutas said, still looking uncertain.
“I do,” Earl Ageus said. “Countess Mauryn and her daughters are welcome here. Now tell me why you are so anxious to remove me from my place.”
“King Leonosis has made me earl,” Brutas said petulantly.
“A mistake,” Ageus said.
He had climbed the stairs of the dais and stood directly in front of his son, who was still sitting in the earl’s throne-like chair. Grentz watched the confrontation, just like everyone else in the long hall, only Grentz was on the dais with the earl and Brutas. The earl’s son looked angry and defiant, but Earl Ageus, with his newfound strength, would not be denied.
“Get up,” he said in a cold but quiet voice.
“I no longer take orders from you, old man,” Brutas said.
“Guards, remove my son from this hall.”
“I am the Earl of Avondale!” Brutas shouted. “Appointed by King Leonosis. Whoever lays a hand on me shall be banished from Avondale.”
“The king cannot remove a sitting earl,” Ageus said. “Not without cause and a hearing.”
“You were not the sitting earl, Leonosis was,” Brutas growled. “You were nothing but a feeble old man, wallowing in your own piss.”
The blow was sudden and hard. Earl Ageus slapped Brutas, who was easily twice his father’s weight, so hard the young man was nearly knocked out of the chair. Brutas was as stunned as everyone else, but then he suddenly sprang to his feet. He drew his dagger with his good hand, and there was murder in his eyes, but Grentz’s sword flashed across his throat. The blade didn’t cut the skin, but Grentz let the flat of the blade bump Brutas’ chin.
“Drop the dagger,” Grentz said calmly. “There’s no need for bloodshed.”
Earl Ageus stood before his son, staring into Brutas’ hate-filled eyes. There was no mercy to be found in the earl’s stare, not even for his son. Three of the earl’s guards pulled Brutas to the side, holding his thick arms behind his back.
“You’ll pay for this,” Brutas snarled.
“If he speaks again, gag him,” Ageus said as he sat down in his chair.
Grentz sheathed his sword and turned back toward the countess and her daughters. He wanted to shout in triumph, but he held his emotions in check and reminded himself that things could change in an instant when it came to rulers and their politics.
“We have much to discuss,” Ageus proclaimed. “Commander Grentz, go and fetch your son.”
Chapter 21
Rafe
Grentz hurried back into the small apartment. Rafe had been pacing nervously. He hated that he had no idea where Tiberius and Lexi were. He shouldn’t have let them split up, and his fear was quickly brewing into anger. He looked up in surprise when Grentz rushed into the small room.
“Brutas has returned,” Grentz said, almost as if the news were a relief. “Earl Ageus is well. It’s quite incredible. He looks like his old self, perhaps even better than before. He has taken control and is requesting to see you.”
“Is that a good idea?” Rafe asked.
“You can’t hide forever,” Grentz said. “At least now things will be fair.”
“Tiberius did heal him,” Olyva said. “That has to count for something.”
“Well said,” Grentz agreed. “I think we can be confident that the earl will be fair and understanding.”
“All right, we’ll go,” Rafe said. “Has Tiberius turned up?”
“No, but hopefully he will soon. No one could have missed the return of the sky ship.”
Rafe didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue, either. He knew his friend. If Tiberius were in the middle of working magic, the world could fall down around his ears and he wouldn’t notice. But Tiberius would return to the palace eventually.
They made their way back up to the earl’s audience hall. Rafe could feel the tension in the room the moment he stepped in. There were nearly fifty soldiers in the long hall; half were men from the earl’s war band, and the other half were the earl’s personal guard. Grentz commanded both groups and ensured that Avondale’s security was always seen to, but the armed men didn’t give Rafe any comfort. He had trusted Leonosis once and was betrayed. Rafe had little confidence that the same wouldn’t happen with Earl Ageus, and then the fifty soldiers in the long hall, many of whom Rafe knew personally, would become his enemies.
“Rafe Grentzson,” the earl said in a booming voice. “You have returned.”
Rafe couldn’t help but notice how healthy and strong the earl seemed to be. Even in the months before Rafe and Olyva were banished, the earl hadn’t seemed so robust.
“Yes, my lord,” Rafe said with a slight bow to show his respect. “We needed to ensure that Olyva’s family had a safe haven.”
“Tell me what happened in Hamill Keep,” the earl said.
Rafe hesitated. He knew the truth included magic and the fact that Leonosis had somehow connived his way into garnering the support of all the earls. Neither would be welcome in the best of circumstances, and Rafe knew his and Olyva’s lives hung in the balance.
>
Before he could answer, there was a loud whistle. Rafe looked over and saw Brutas with one hand stuck in his mouth. The loud shriek had come from him, and the large double doors to the hall were suddenly thrown open.
“Attack them!” Brutas shouted. “Kill my father!”
Brutas was suddenly knocked to the ground and subdued, while the earl’s guard surrounded their liege lord protectively.
“Shield wall!” Grentz bellowed.
Rafe grabbed Olyva’s hand and pulled her forward, toward the earl’s dais. He waved for the Countess Mauryn and her daughters to follow, which they did. The men of the war band lined up across the narrow room. There was just enough space for twelve men to stand shoulder to shoulder, their shields locked together, their spears pointing toward the front of the hall, where a group of soldiers from the king’s army were pouring in.
“What is this?” the earl shouted.
“Kill him, attack!” Brutas shouted.
The king’s soldiers locked shields and formed their own line, only their shield wall was was much deeper. The earl’s war band was supported by a second rank that stood just behind the front line of men, but there were six rows of soldiers opposing them.
“We can’t stay here,” Rafe said to his father. “We’ll be overrun.”
“And that’s not the entire group of soldiers that came in with Brutas,” Grentz said. “We need a more defensible position.”
“And we need to sound the alarm,” Rafe said.
A small door at the rear of hall gave the earl access to a private staircase that led up to his residence on the third floor. Rafe hurried back and opened the door, thinking they might be able to escape to the palace roof and perhaps even to the earl’s sky ship or out onto the city walls. But there were more soldiers in the hallway, their spears held ready.
Rafe slammed the door but there was no locking bar. He knew the soldiers could break through at any minute and attack the earl’s forces from the rear.
“It’s no good,” Rafe shouted to his father. “They’ve covered the exits.”
“Then we’ll have to stand and fight,” Grentz said savagely.
Rafe couldn’t help but wish Tiberius was with them. The young wizard could turn the tide in the earl’s favor, but Tiberius was nowhere to be seen.
“Ladies,” Earl Ageus called to the countess and her daughters. “To me. My guards will protect you.”
“Your guards will all be dead!” Brutas screamed. “I am the rightful earl. I command this city. Throw down your weapons, and I will spare your lives.”
Rafe could see that the men holding Brutas looked doubtful. They should have shut him up by any means necessary, but they hesitated, uncertain of what to do. Whether they liked Brutas or believed his claims to the earldom was completely irrelevant. They could plainly see that they were vastly outnumbered. If they backed Earl Ageus, the odds were that they would die.
“Stand firm!” Grentz shouted. “Half of you guardsmen join me in the shield wall.”
Rafe had escorted Olyva up onto the dais, and Earl Ageus looked at him. There was fury in his eyes, but when he spoke, his voice was calm and determined.
“Where is my son?” he asked.
“I don’t know, my lord. Robere said he went into the city earlier today.”
“For what purpose?”
“I don’t know. But I wish he were here now.”
“Brutas!” the earl shouted. “Stop this madness.”
“No, Father,” Brutas said with a cruel laugh. “Your time of giving orders is over.”
“We are not enemies,” Ageus said.
“You stand there with wanted men and claim we are not enemies,” Brutas said. “Do you men know that the earl’s third son is a wizard?”
The pronouncement was almost like the thunder of a storm, cowering the earl’s men. Rafe saw looks of fear and disbelief on their faces, and many looked straight at Rafe.
“He is wanted,” Brutas went on, “by your king. Why else would Leonosis send war ships and soldiers to Avondale? Are you harboring a fugitive, Father?”
“Tiberius is my son, just as you are, Brutas. Just as the new king is my son. I will have order in this hall.”
“You will have death!” Brutas shouted. “Rafe Grentzson is wanted by the king for slaying Earl Marcus of Hamill Keep.”
“No, it isn’t true,” Grentz shouted angrily.
“It is true,” Countess Mauryn said loudly, her cold voice silencing the room. “The earl’s son and my own daughter helped him do it. Why else would the people of Hamill Keep riot?”
“Mother!” Olyva said.
“You have disgraced this family long enough,” Cassandra said.
The countess and the two older daughters left the dais and moved toward Brutas, who was back on his feet. He was still held by three of the earl’s guardsmen, but they no longer menaced him. Only Desyra stayed with Olyva, clinging to her older sister, who was visibly weak, as she always became when night fell.
“Throw down your weapons and step away from the dais,” Brutas said.
It only took one of the earl’s men to break. A young guardsman—Rafe couldn’t remember his name—dropped his shield and spear. They clattered loudly. Every eye was on the man as he cleared his throat and spit on Rafe. Rage boiled Rafe’s blood, but he didn’t move. His discipline in front of the earl, trained into him from long hours of working with the earl’s war band, held him in check. He wouldn’t let his emotions overtake his self-control.
“Stop him,” Earl Ageus said quietly.
Rafe’s hand was on the hilt of his sword, but the soldier was now unarmed. So Rafe released his sword and punched the man instead. It was a savage hook, and Rafe turned his body, letting the power of the punch build in his legs, hip, and shoulders as he struck the man’s jaw. The guardsman’s head snapped to the side, and his body went rigid as he fell to the floor unconscious.
“Don’t believe Brutas!” the earl shouted. “Many strange things are happening in Valana. We must stand together to defeat whatever evil comes against us.”
“Tiberius, your own son, is the evil in Valana,” Brutas shouted back.
“And you, ordering my death, is not?” Ageus snarled.
“Tell me, Father. How is that you stand here so strong? When I left Avondale, you were a feeble man, unable to get out of your bed.”
“I am recovered.”
“And it is a miraculous recovery. Did Adonii visit you and restore your health?” Brutas asked, letting the question hang in the air for a moment. “Or did Tiberius bewitch you?”
“Enough,” Earl Ageus shouted. “If he speaks again, subdue him by whatever means are necessary.”
“You no longer command here, Father!” Brutas shouted.
The men holding Brutas did nothing, but Rafe drew his dagger and threw it at Brutas. The weapon didn’t turn in the air the way a throwing knife would; instead, the way Rafe threw the dagger, it flew more like a spear, only the handle was aimed at Brutas instead of the blade. The weapon thumped into Brutas’ head and knocked him senseless.
There was a moment of calm as Brutas sagged in his captors arms, and everyone looked at Rafe in surprise. Then, with a shout, the king’s soldiers rushed forward. Rafe saw the back exit door swing open, and he rushed to face the soldiers trying to flank them. He drew his sword as he jumped from the dais, and with one fearsome thrust, he killed the soldier who was first through the small door. Rafe’s momentum knocked the dead man backwards into the soldier that was just coming through the door. They collapsed, and Rafe had time to glance over his shoulder to where his father stood at the rear of the shield wall.
“Steady!” Grentz shouted.
The clash of men echoed in the long room. The earl’s wall bristled with spears, but the king’s soldiers had spears, too. Metal drove into wood with a splintering crack, and men were impaled—their screams made Rafe’s blood run cold. Then both lines of men smashed together, shield on shield. Swords were drawn, as the
hacking and shoving of the wall began. Men were cursing, and the weapons clashed like the sounds of Rastimus’ infernal forge from the afterlife.
Rafe didn’t have time to watch the chaos behind him as another soldier jumped over his comrades and attacked Rafe with a furious war cry. Rafe batted the man’s spear to the side but then had to slide out of the way as the man tried to ram him with his shield. Rafe spun around, letting his sword extend away from his body. The soldier was turning, too, and raising his shield, but he wasn’t fast enough. The tip of Rafe’s rapier flew over the edge of the soldier’s shield and cut a gash across the man’s face. It wasn’t a killing blow, despite the fact that Rafe felt the sword glancing off the man’s skull. But the blade slashed across one of the soldier’s eyes, causing him to fall backward, dropping his weapons and writhing on the floor.
The door leading into the room was still blocked as the soldiers in the corridor beyond tried to drag their companions out of the way. Rafe snatched up the wounded man’s shield and repositioned himself to defend the narrow doorway. Spears were cast through the small opening toward Rafe, who dodged to the side. A soldier tried to slip in, angling away from Rafe, but he wasn’t fast enough. One quick thrust from Rafe’s long sword stabbed into the man’s inner thigh. Blood fountained up as the man fell to the floor.
Behind Rafe, his father’s shield wall was slowly being battered down. Thirty men still held the wall in place, but there were over fifty pushing them back. It was a bloody, deadly game, one all the men had trained for, but the first most of them had ever fought in. The nine cities of Valana had been at peace for decades, and the only combat between the cities were duals fought by the champions to settle minor disputes. Grentz was encouraging his men, trying to point out weaknesses, but it was only a matter of time before they were overrun.
The next men through the small door that Rafe was defending came in a clump. Three men charged through together. Rafe wounded the first, his sword slashing across the man’s shoulder, but the other two were unharmed. They spread out, trying to attack Rafe from opposite directions, but they hadn’t counted on Olyva, who had snatched up one of the spears that had been thrown through the open doorway. She ran forward and stabbed her spear into the closest man’s back.
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