Into the room came three men who moved like shadows. They were clothed in black garb that fit tightly to their bodies. Black dye spread across their skin and hair made it difficult to tell where their clothes ended and they began. Each one carried two curved blades made of pale white steel.
Before the guards could react to their presence the assassins struck. Their fighting was graceful like a well-choreographed dance. Each swipe of blade flowed with seamless perfection into the next. The guards could offer no resistance to the skilled swordsmen who opposed them. Within moments all the guards had been dispatched.
The general was lying unconscious on the floor, with blood pouring from his broken nose. One of the men grabbed the keys from the general’s belt and studied them, attempting to find the one that would unlock the cells. Another member of the group walked to Ava’s cell and spoke with her quietly.
Max studied the man closely. He was the largest of the three. He had broad shoulders and massive legs and arms. During the fighting Max had noticed the man’s undeniable strength. Even with his graceful dancelike moves Max could see the powerful explosiveness that lurked behind each blow.
After conversing with Ava the man walked and studied Max.
“We are here to aid you in your escape. Ava’s father has sent us. We are known as the Shadow of Oudan, an assassin’s guild that has existed for nearly two hundred years, unknown to any but a few. We need to hur—”
The doors to the chamber crashed open, smashing so hard that they flew off their hinges. In the doorway stood the ominous figure of Prince Hunter. At his side he held the dragon blade. His face was motionless as stone. But his eyes told a different story. They were red with fury. They seemed almost to blind Max as he looked into them.
The three men rushed to attack the new threat. The largest among them stepped forward first, his blades held high overhead. Before he could attack, however, Hunter’s blade shot out with lightning speed. The assassin moved to parry. The dragon blade cut straight through, cleaving the blades clean in two.
With a swift kick to his chest Hunter sent the stunned warrior tumbling onto his back. Hunter attacked the other two, once again slicing through their blades and leaving them in disbelief.
Now defenseless, the two assassins hesitated. Hunter did not. He struck out at the man to his left. The warrior flung his weight back, attempting to dodge the blow, but the blade sliced deep into his shoulder.
Within moments the cut began to simmer. Smoke rose from the wound and the assassin grimaced in pain. It almost seemed that the cut was burning itself deeper into his flesh. Then the gaping burst into white-hot flame. The fire burned, spreading across the assassin’s body. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony.
As Hunter turned to face the remaining assailants, things seemed to switch into slow motion. Max watched the events; they seemed to trickle by with an unusual slowness. He knew that there was no hope that the remaining assassins could defeat Hunter.
Max searched the cell and the outside chamber for something, anything that could turn the tide, and then he saw it. In the cell across from him, what he had taken for a bench clearly wasn’t. It was a person, a very large person. If Max had to guess he would say he was about fifteen feet tall.
“Cyclops,” Max whispered across the room. The large figure in the cell did not stir.
“Toss me the keys,” Max called out to the warriors who were now just avoiding Hunter rather than fighting him. One of the warriors dove and grabbed the key ring from where their fallen comrade had dropped them. He rolled to his feet and threw them across the chamber into Max’s outstretched hand.
As the warrior turned back to the fighting he was met with the steel of Hunter’s blade. The sword sliced across his chest leaving a gaping wound that began to burn. In a matter of second flames erupted across his chest, spreading and consuming his torso.
Max quickly unlocked the cell and moved across to the cell in front of him.
“Cyclops!” he shouted inside the cell and this time he got a reaction. The large figure stirred. Sitting up, he squinted toward Max, attempting to make out the figure, his vision still blurry.
“Max?” the cyclops asked in query and surprise.
Max unlocked the cell. The other prisoners rushed past him out into the chamber. They ran for a door that hung on the back wall. Max paid them little attention and he spoke to the cyclops. He hurriedly explained to him what had happened since he had been captured and the situation now with Hunter out in the chamber.
“I know what I must do, Max. When we met I foresaw this. I told you there would come a time when you would desire something more than the letter. That time has now arrived. I will hold off Hunter while you take the girl and escape.”
“No. I cannot let you throw away your life so carelessly. There is much greatness in your spirit.”
The cyclops smiled. “The time has come for me to redeem myself. I have killed more men than you know. I have struck them down in cold blood. It has cost me my sons and my wife. Let me now die nobly so that I may join them in the afterlife as something greater than they knew me here.”
Max nodded in understanding, but he felt a great sadness sweep over him.
“Death is not the end, Max. But it is a path that many shall take before these events are finished.”
Max nodded again; this time he felt at peace, though the sadness lurked just beneath the surface. He moved out into the chamber followed closely by the cyclops.
Hunter stood over the charred body of the third assassin. He smiled when he saw Max and the cyclops and charged forward toward them. The cyclops stepped in front of Max using his massive bulk to absorb the first of Hunter’s blows. He swung his fist across, crushing it into Hunter and sending him hurtling into the wall.
Max took the opportunity and ran to Ava’s cell. He quickly undid the lock and ushered her out. As they turned for the door, Hunter rose to his feet and charged them. The cyclops once again moved in to block the attack. This time Hunter’s blade pierced deep into his arm. Flames exploded like fireworks on his arm as fire threatened to consume it. He focused his gaze intensely, and it seemed that he willed the fire to subside. The flames were contained to his arm but they still burned hot.
Max and Ava rushed for the door as the cyclops shielded them from Hunter’s assaults. He absorbed blow after blow from the unstoppable blade. His body was covered with flaming wounds that burned across his skin like canals of flame.
As Max reached the door leading out of the cellblock, he fought the urge to look back. He didn’t want to remember his friend as he now was. He would remember the cyclops as a hero who gave his life for him. He didn’t want to see him cut and battered on the edge of death.
Max pushed through the door and dragged Ava with him. They made their way out of the palace and down to the balloon pad. Max helped Ava into the balloon and began prepping it for takeoff.
“Did you think you could escape so easily?” Max’s blood ran cold. The voice was icy and cruel.
Max turned to see a pale warrior towering over him. He stared into the bloodthirsty gaze of the Tenton knight.
“It is time that I finally revenge the harm you have done to my name. There are those who think you better than me. Can you believe such foolishness? After your escape from the Merchant’s castle they truly think you are my better.” The ominous knight paced back and forth as he spoke.
“I will show them now just how weak you are. You are not better than me! You are not even close. I will crush you like the insect that you are. And then they shall know the truth.”
Truth. The word echoed in Max’s head. It seemed to force his mind’s focus onto it. Only one word, but it seemed to mean so much.
Suddenly, memories flooded back to him. They were fleeting, sporadic but a few words found their footing and wouldn’t let go: “…the letters are not simply letters, the feather is not just a feather. You must remember to see past that which blinds so that you may see the truth that is all aroun
d you.”
Max reached for the feather that he had tucked into his belt. Instead his hand was met with a handle of cool steel. Glancing down, Max saw a large hammer resting on his belt. It was a pure and perfect silver. It shimmered with intensity in the bright sunlight.
It was Max’s only weapon and he drew it. The Tenton knight took no interest in the weapon. He himself wielded a massive sword. It was even larger and deadlier than the one he had used before, thought Max. The knight didn’t believe the hammer could stop his mighty blade.
Max surveyed the situation. It was a precarious site for a battle. A seven-foot-wide landing ran out to the balloon. On either side no railings prevented a near-hundred-foot fall. With Ava behind him Max couldn’t maneuver to a better spot until she managed to get the balloon airborne.
“Ava!” Max called out without breaking his gaze from the knight in front of him. “Get that thing airborne and get out of here. I’ll take care of him and I’ll meet you back with the army”
Max knew he just needed to buy Ava a few more minutes. Then she would be safe, and whatever happened to him wouldn’t matter. He didn’t really feel that he could win a victory against such a warrior, but then again a few weeks ago nothing he had done in this world would have seemed possible.
The pale knight was smiling. “I am your undertaker.”
Without waiting for a response from Max the tall warrior struck. He swung the massive blade with little more than a flick of his wrist and it flew like an arrow toward Max. The hammer in Max’s hand seemed to lend him strength, and he brought it up quickly. The massive blade thundered off the hammer and the knight recoiled from the force.
Max pressed the advantage and swung the hammer in a high arc overhead, bringing it down with as much force as he could muster. The knight blocked the blow, but Max could see the blade was nearly wrenched from his grasp. Max felt a surge of confidence but it was short-lived. He had been so busy marveling at the force of his blow that he hadn’t notice the fist screaming toward him.
Max was blinded as the fist crashed into his skull. A flash of white consumed his vision and he collapsed to the ground. His vision returned. Seeing a blade slicing through the air toward him Max rolled to the left. The tile next to him exploded in a shower of splintered fragments.
As another strike flew toward him he rolled again. This time the blade grazed against his shoulder, scraping the fabric from his shirt but inflicting no bodily damage. Max now found himself lying at the edge of the landing. Before the knight could launch another assault Max sprang to his feet. Using the hammer he blocked a series of rapid blows that threatened to knock him off the landing.
Max felt himself teetering on the edge. He needed to get off the defensive and push his opponent back or soon he would be falling to his death. The knight sensed this and attacked relentlessly. Each strike flowed into the next one with no pause at all. Max needed a break to launch a counter series but there wasn’t one.
As the knight launched reckless blow after blow Max noticed he was beginning to tire. Perhaps, Max thought, he was mortal after all. Being forced back slightly Max felt the heel of his boot slide over the edge. Soon, he knew, he would follow. It was now or never.
He swung to block the next blow and threw his weight forward. The stunned knight staggered backward. Max put his hand out to regain his balance and then he charged the knight. Max swung viciously and forced the knight to take large steps backward just to absorb the force and stay on his feet.
Max had pushed the knight to the edge of the landing. He flung the hammer forward with the force of a charging rhino. It crashed against the knight’s blade and the knight took a large step backward. His foot found no purchase as it sank through the air. He fell backward, sinking beneath the landing. He tossed aside his sword and shot his hand out, grabbing onto Max’s leg. Max fell and slid with the knight off the landing.
Ava finally freed the anchor and lit the fire. The balloon began to glide through the sky. She watched Max and the knight tumble over the edge.
Chapter 17
The orcs were falling like wheat before a sharpened sickle. Surveying the scene Blaise estimated they had pushed two hundred meters— about half the distance to the city gates. The army of Oudan was a fighting force of unstoppable resolve. They weren’t just fighting for good or for honor. They were fighting for their lost princess.
From what Blaise had gathered Ava had been beloved of the people. She had been a wonderfully kind and enchantingly beautiful youth. She had begun attracting suitors before even her older sisters. The King knew that he could use her to increase the power of his kingdom greatly, but he didn’t want to give away his little girl to someone she did not love.
He searched for a powerful prince whom Ava could love, but his search was cut short when Ava was kidnapped. Investigators tied the other princesses and the king’s own sister to the crime. All six were put to death without trial. For years the people mourned the loss of their sweet angel. Now with a chance to reclaim her, Blaise knew they would stop at nothing.
Horns sounded from within the castle walls. The flood of orcs out of the gate was stemmed. It was replaced with an orderly march of hundreds of steel-clad warriors. They marched in perfect order. Their faces were stoic as fleeing orcs rushed passed them, eager to leave the battle now that the shifts had been changed.
Blaise felt his heart harden at the sight. The Grand Army. He knew many of the men now marching from the gate. He had fought with them when he was younger. He had grown up with many of them. They had been like family.
Blaise eyed his own men and saw the mix of emotions that was flooding over each one of them. He knew that they would be hesitant to fight against the men they had served only days earlier. These were the men they had trained with, eaten with, and fought with. The men they traded jokes and war stories with; the ones that they held as brothers.
Luckily, the army of Oudan had no such reservations. These men were simply an obstacle in the way of rescuing the princess.
The Grand Army, Blaise was sure, would have no remorse for anyone who came against them. They were indoctrinated by the powers of his brother. They would follow any orders without question, and many of them would die in the battle.
Blaise organized his men into an offensive wedge, a formation shaped roughly like a triangle. The tip of the wedge would be Blaise himself. It was a suicide wish.
Blaise signaled the advance toward the enemy line. He glanced to the left and right of him. It was an odd feeling being all alone on the line. He had no one to save him from his mistakes, no one to protect but himself. He could be reckless and aggressive without risking anyone else’s life.
As they neared the enemy lines Blaise raised his hand and broke into a run. Blaise heard the hurried footfalls of his men behind him. The men in front of them recognized Blaise and smiled wickedly at this chance. Blaise knew they would enjoy this. But he knew he would enjoy it more.
At the last second Blaise ducked low to the ground. Blades screamed over his head, hitting nothing but air. From his crouched position Blaise exploded upward, driving his blade through the stomach of an opposing soldier. The soldier fell backward, knocking over several men behind him.
His men poured into the hole behind him. It was up to them to dispatch any that Blaise left alive and to make sure that his back was protected. Blaise couldn’t stop moving or he would be cut down from the sides He had to keep pressing forward until he reached the other side of the formation.
The enemy had organized itself and Blaise’s progress was slower. Now exposed on the sides due to his slow movement, the enemy struck. Blaise felt a sharp pain as a sword tore into his side. It cut through his armor like rice paper. Another blade sliced across the top of his shoulder.
He swung his blade recklessly, cutting down any who stood before him. He could see the fear in his enemies’ eyes as they began to back away from his onslaught. Using the room they gave him he took several powerful steps and lowered his shoulder. He
threw his entire weight forward and pushed off the ground. He crashed like a missile into the soldiers in front of him.
Like dominoes they fell back upon one another. The hole was massive and the men behind Blaise rushed into the gap. The wedge had spilt far enough into the enemy lines that the Oudan Army was now reinforcing Blaise’s push and attempting to split the enemy in two.
As they pushed forward two soldiers stopped to recover Blaise. He wasn’t badly wounded, but he had sustained a few cuts that needed looking after and the collision had badly disoriented him. The men dragged him back toward the medic tent, the charging men parting before them.
The men handed Blaise off to the medic without so much as a word and rushed back toward the front lines, eager for battle. Quick work was made of the cuts and gashes but the dizziness would have to be allowed to run its course.
“You’ll have to stay here for a few hours just so I can keep an eye on you and make sure things don’t get any worse,” the medic said.
Blaise grunted something unintelligible and began to wander off, stumbling as he went. The medic cursed under his breath. No one ever listened to him.
“Clearly, you are more qualified to decide what’s best,” the medic shouted after the prince.
The world was spinning quickly, and Blaise’s legs felt like jelly beneath him. Nausea assailed his stomach as his thoughts ran here and there unable to stay together for long. Blaise knew he was a little roughed up, but he was confident it would wear off quickly. Of course, he knew, he was in no shape to rejoin the battle just yet, so he decided to find his father and see how the battle was going.
As Blaise searched the sea of faces he heard a voice call out behind him.
“My son!” Blaise turned to see his father rushing toward him with a dozen men in tow. “You nearly gave this old man a heart attack. Leading a wedge into the heart of the Grand Army! That is a fool’s errand.”
Blaise smiled broadly. “But this fool came out alive.”
The king beamed at his son’s bravery. “Yes, you did, dear boy. And it was nothing short of a miracle, I do say. To succeed in such an attempt is one thing but to live to fight again is something else entirely.”
Maxwell's Closet Page 14
