by Mark Robson
‘Just borrowing your knife for a moment,’ Reynik called back, already in motion towards the mounting where the rope was fastened to the wall.
Femke leaped up from some distance away and her fingers grabbed for the rope. It was a great jump and her fingers connected with their target, gripping the rope firmly as her lower body swung through and collided heavily with the wall. Despite hitting it hard, Femke clung on to the rope and began to climb upwards, swinging hand over hand up the steep incline.
Reynik sprinted across the Courtroom, ignoring the uproar around him. Within seconds he was sawing at the rope with his newly acquired blade. Femke could feel every strand sever as Reynik sliced at the rope with gusto.
‘Nearly there,’ he warned. Femke stopped climbing and concentrated on hanging on. As the final few strands parted with a snap, the huge metal chandelier structure started to fall, drawing the rope up through the pulley system with a vicious lurch that threatened to yank her arms from their sockets. Femke’s light frame hardly slowed the chandelier’s descent at all. It accelerated rapidly to the ground, while she sailed through the air above the heads of the astonished courtiers and up towards the roof.
At the last possible moment, Femke let go of the rope. Her forward momentum carried her the last couple of yards over the top level of seating, but her landing was not so pretty. She crashed into the wall hard, partially winding herself. Shalidar was already disappearing through one of the windows, so there was no time to lose. With a discipline that few possess, Femke forced her chest to stop heaving and drove her shaken body to follow him.
The Courtroom was in turmoil at the spectacular turn of events, but Femke ignored it. Her focus was on stopping Shalidar. As she climbed nimbly through the window to give chase, she muttered, ‘He must not get away. He must not get away,’ repeatedly under her breath.
Shalidar, however, was no fool. He had lived life as an assassin too long not to have an escape route planned. No matter how angry he was with Femke, the killer was controlled enough not to be confused by anger. Shalidar concentrated on escape, bottling his rage with a savage professionalism.
He raced across the gently sloping roof, heading for the corner lowest to the ground. For once, luck was not with him. A patrol of Royal Guards out walking the Palace grounds spotted him as he approached the corner and called out.
‘Hey! You up on the roof! Stop where you are. Don’t move a muscle, or we’ll have to shoot,’ warned one of them in a loud voice.
Shalidar turned and ran back up the shallow slope, dodging and weaving to make it more difficult for the archers to pick him off. His twisting, stop-start run was effective. The patrol fired several bolts at him from their crossbows, but none of them marked him.
It was then that Shalidar noticed Femke closing in on him from the direction of the Courtroom. This was not the place to deal with her. The archers could get lucky and he did not want to give Femke the satisfaction of seeing him caught or killed. No. There were much better options. He had a split second to decide, but his choice fell with running to higher ground. Shalidar did not know how Femke felt about heights, but by leading her across the rooftops to higher surfaces, it would get him clear of the archers. Then, with a single push, he could dispose of Femke for ever.
Femke saw Shalidar register her approach and redoubled her efforts to close the gap between them. The next thing she knew crossbow bolts were ripping through the air around her. She instinctively broke the pattern of her stride and pace to disrupt the Royal Guards’ aim, ducking and weaving as she ran. The patrol was also yelling at her to stand still now, but Femke was as unwilling to stop as Shalidar. The spy had no intention of letting the Royal Guards prevent her from avenging Danar. His death was too fresh in her heart. Shalidar had demonstrated a truly diabolical nature by his method of killing the young Shandese Lord, to say nothing of his cold-hearted coordination of the killings of Baron Anton and Count Dreban. He could not get away. Femke would not allow it. She did not want him to die because death offered too swift a resolution. She wanted him to suffer for his deeds. He had to be caught and she desperately wanted to be the one to catch him.
Shalidar scrambled up onto the adjoining rooftop and ran up the shallow slope to the peak. Femke chased after him. The assassin leaped fearlessly across gaps between rooftops. Femke did not hesitate to follow. The scrambling, running and jumping chase was spectacular but short, as Shalidar led Femke around the rooftops only to halt suddenly on the roof of the Great Hall at the front of the Palace. At the edge of the roof, overlooking the main gates, he stopped and turned. There was nowhere to run.
Femke slid to a stop a short way in front of him and looked at the assassin through narrowed eyes. It was not clear whether Shalidar had any weapons hidden about his person, but Femke was not about to take chances. The assassin was renowned to be as deadly with his hands as he was with weapons.
‘End of the road, Shalidar. There’s nowhere left to go. Accept it. Give yourself up now,’ Femke panted, glad to see Shalidar breathing as heavily as she was.
‘Don’t be a fool, Femke! The road never ends. Most people simply can’t see well enough to interpret its twists and turns,’ Shalidar replied, his voice rasping and scornful, his eyes filled with deadly intent. She could see Shalidar did not intend to go without a fight, and that suited Femke fine.
Padding forward lightly on the balls of her feet, Femke approached the assassin with her hands raised, ready to fight. Femke had hoped to face Shalidar with Reynik. The young soldier was an excellent fist fighter and without him at her side she could end up as dead as if the King had ordered her hanged for murder. But this way it was her choice. If Shalidar killed her, she would die in pursuit of justice and vengeance.
Femke circled warily. When Shalidar attacked it would be with every ounce of deadly strength and speed that he possessed. He knew no other way to fight. Femke felt ready. She was fast, agile and brimming with anger. She had never known a time when she had been so keyed up to fight.
‘Finally we get to dance,’ Femke said, calming her breathing and focusing on Shalidar’s centre of balance. ‘It’s been a while coming. You’ve had the advantage over me ever since I arrived in Mantor. Getting Phagen into my little party was a masterstroke. It took me a long time to work out that one of them had to be involved. When I did, he was never top of my list of suspects. I can see it now, of course: the last minute addition to the mission due to a sudden illness, his quiet manner and his ability to fade into the background. He’s the perfect character to be an assassin, but why did you not have him kill me? Why the elaborate set-up here in Mantor? You said you wanted to start a war in order to increase business, but that doesn’t ring true.’
All the time she was talking, Femke studied Shalidar’s slow movements, looking for a weakness – any slight thing that could give her an edge.
‘The “why” is simple,’ Shalidar hissed. ‘I wanted you to pay for your intervention in Shandrim. Everything was progressing nicely. Vallaine was infuriating, it’s true. He was not the most stable of characters to work for, but I had allowed for that and was working towards replacing him with a suitably malleable successor – when you stepped in. I could have killed you at any stage, but that would not have been good enough. I didn’t want to kill you. I wanted to destroy you. I wanted to strip you of everything you held dear. I had worked very hard over the previous year to set up my retirement plan. You ruined it. Now you’ve managed to threaten my legitimate business as well. In hindsight, I should have had you killed. But that is rectified easily enough.’
Shalidar sprang forward and struck at the middle of Femke’s body with a vicious punch. Femke responded with a solid blocking manoeuvre that deflected his blow. With a twisting leap, she landed a stinging kick to the side of his face that sent him reeling. Femke moved to follow her kick with a series of punches and kicks, only to find each of them blocked, with some stunning counter punches flying back. Suddenly, Shalidar switched tactics. From nowhere he swept her
feet out from under her and dealt her a kick that sent her rolling down the roof towards the edge.
It took a few rolls before Femke could stop her forward momentum. As she did so, she saw Shalidar closing in for the kill. Without hesitation and with a speed that took Shalidar completely by surprise, Femke managed to use his tactic against him. She twisted and swept the assassin’s feet from under him as he approached. He landed heavily with a grunt. Using her supple agility to its limit, Femke twisted again and clamped her legs around Shalidar’s neck and began to squeeze.
Where most would panic, Shalidar did not. He did not attempt to prise Femke’s legs from their chokehold. He simply felt for the pressure points at the back of her knees and dug in his thumbs, with a force that caused Femke to cry out with pain and roll away.
Femke rolled into a crouched position a few feet from the edge of the roof and gently massaged the backs of her knees for a moment to lessen the pain. Shalidar in turn sat up and rubbed at his throat briefly before climbing to his feet. His face was set with an expression of cold fury.
Shalidar had the advantage over Femke in height, weight and reach. It was arguable who was the faster. The one area where Femke could claim an advantage was in her supple agility, but as she was already discovering, one slight advantage was not enough to make up for the areas where she was the weaker. Unless she could surprise him somehow, Shalidar would kill her.
The assassin was convinced now that he was the better fighter and he began to press home his advantage. He closed in on Femke. Another flurry of rapid punches and kicks followed, with Femke being forced to retreat, struggling hard to swing the fight away from the edge of the high rooftop.
A pedestrian passing by the main Palace Gates noticed the two fighting on the roof of the Great Hall and pointed it out to the guards on the gate. They called the Guard Captain, who sent runners to pass word to the King. The runners told everyone they passed, and before long there was a small crowd of Royal house staff running out in front of the Palace to see the spectacle.
Femke managed to spin under one of Shalidar’s punches. She powered an elbow into his stomach, driving the hard point of bone as deep as she could, but she had no chance to follow up the slight success as the assassin whirled around and slammed his right foot into her side, once again sending her flying from her feet. Pain lanced through her chest as Femke rolled upright again. She coughed and instantly tasted blood in her mouth. Shalidar had broken at least one of her ribs.
As Femke looked up at him approaching her again, she noted the slightly smug expression. He knew the damage his last kick had done. By the look in his eyes, he was ready to finish the fight. Frantically looking around for anything that might help, Femke realised too late that Shalidar had closed the gap between them. He attacked again with a series of blindingly fast and powerful punches. Her blocks became progressively less effective. Shalidar landed several more blows in quick succession, driving Femke down onto her knees.
‘Time to die,’ he announced coldly, his breathy, whispering voice holding no emotion.
Femke had expected to hear triumph, or pleasure, but there was none of it. Her face felt swollen where he had landed several punches and was bleeding in a few places. Shalidar was also bloodied, but he looked fresh. Femke knew she had no chance of getting the better of him. He was simply too good and too strong.
Femke did not see the final kick coming. She did not roll with it at all. Her face suddenly snapped around, exploding with pain. Then she was rolling down the roof towards the edge. All coordination deserted her for a moment. As her body turned over and over, she could do nothing to reduce her momentum. Pain flooded her brain from every part of her body and a voice inside her willed her to go over the edge and end the agony. However, as her body approached the edge, Femke remembered Danar’s final hour. He had not given up. He had trusted her and she had failed him. This was her one chance to redeem herself. She knew in that instant she could not give up.
Slapping her arms wide apart, Femke managed at the last moment to stop the rolling motion, but did so too late. Her body continued to slide, face-down over the edge of the roof. Somehow, with a desperate flailing, Femke grabbed one of the horizontal flagpoles from which the Royal Banners hung, and clung on to it with her right hand. She dangled precariously, hanging high above the great sweeping stone staircase that ran up to the front of the Palace. The stretching pain in her chest was unbearable, but she held on with every ounce of her will. With a supreme effort she managed to improve the situation by getting a hold with her left hand as well.
‘Aren’t you dead yet?’ Shalidar’s voice rasped from above her. Femke looked up and saw his cold eyes as he began to lift his foot to tread on her fingers and send her falling to her death. ‘Goodbye, Femke, and good riddance,’ he added flatly.
‘Stop, Shalidar! Do it and you die too.’
Reynik’s shout caused Shalidar to turn to assess the new threat. A young soldier was racing across the rooftop towards him, knife in hand. From the way he was holding the blade, Shalidar judged that his new opponent knew how to use it. He did not hesitate. The assassin knew when to fight and when to run. Without pause, he turned and ran along the edge of the rooftop, away from Reynik.
The young soldier’s voice was heavenly to Femke and she realised that if he was quick, she might just be able to hang on long enough for him to help her. Her fingers were slipping over the smooth wood of the flagpole, but with a supreme effort, she hung on with all the strength she had left.
‘Reynik!’ she croaked, her voice weak from the pain in her chest.
Reynik was changing his course to follow the assassin when he heard the faint call for help. He did not hesitate. Although he desperately wanted to follow Shalidar, he knew instantly that he could not do it at the expense of Femke’s life.
‘Quickly,’ she gurgled, her fingers slipping even further.
Spotting Femke’s hands holding on to the flagpole, her fingers slipping, Reynik realised there was no time for a controlled rescue. With no care for his own safety, he cast aside his knife and launched into a dive towards the edge of the rooftop. Reynik’s body landed hard, belly down, and he slid headfirst with alarming momentum towards the edge of the rooftop. For a moment he thought he had misjudged it and that they would both plummet to their deaths, but as his head and shoulders went over the edge of the roof, Reynik grabbed the pole to arrest his slide. His left hand and arm absorbed his momentum, whilst his right hand grabbed at Femke’s wrist, just catching hold as her fingertips lost all purchase. The sudden weight lurching onto his right arm yanked so hard it threatened to pull his arm from its shoulder socket. He growled at the pain, but clung to her with iron resolve.
Looking down at the stone steps below, Reynik knew no one could survive a fall from this height. He could not speak. He was stretched to the limit, but one look at Femke told him words were unnecessary. She had passed out.
Inch by inch, he wormed his way back onto the roof until his right arm was holding Femke hard up against the wall. Then in a tremendous effort, he forced his body into a position where he could draw Femke up onto the rooftop without overbalancing. Her body was scraped as he pulled her over the edge, but it could not be helped. She was alive. That was enough.
Reynik did not have to look around to know Shalidar was long gone. It was over. He could only hope the Royal Guards had caught the assassin, but he knew that was a lot to wish for. Sitting on the rooftop with Femke lying back against him, Reynik felt exhausted.
Suddenly Femke coughed, regaining partial consciousness. A terrible spasm of pain tore at her side, bringing a fresh wash of blood to her mouth. It would be a shame to die now, she thought, feeling herself slipping back into the abyss. I would like to tell the Emperor the true story.
‘Don’t worry, Femke,’ she heard Reynik saying softly in her ear. ‘You’ll be all right. Lie still. We’ll get the medics up here soon. Hang in there, do you hear me? You can’t leave me now. How am I going to explain this to
the Emperor on my own? I’m a soldier for goodness’ sake! You’re the one with all the answers.’
Femke roused slightly at that.
‘Naturally – I’m a woman,’ she croaked.
Reynik laughed.
‘That you are, Femke. Come on now. Concentrate on staying alive. Don’t leave me, Femke. Stay. The Empire needs you. I need you. Stay.’
‘Shalidar?’ she whispered.
‘Gone,’ Reynik replied softly.
‘Damn!’ she breathed.
Reynik felt Femke’s head relax and he realised she had lost consciousness again, but her breathing was steady and given her injuries she was better off that way. At least whilst she was unconscious she would not be aware of the pain. He cradled her head softly against his chest and rocked her gently.
Feelings of guilt and happiness washed through him. Guilt, because a secret little flame of joy had kindled in his heart that Femke was now free of any romantic entanglement. He had been attracted to her from the time they had left Shandrim, but at first he had judged her significantly older than he was and unattainable through status. Now he knew she was no more than two years his senior, which was not an insurmountable age gap. Also, she was a spy, rather than an Ambassador.
These truths had not surfaced until after the arrival of Lord Danar, so he had buried his feelings deep in deference to the Lord, who had seemed a vastly more appropriate suitor. Reynik had never been good at displaying his emotions. Maybe now he would get the chance to make his feelings known to her.
Sounds of feet approaching from behind caused him to smile. Royal Guards were coming. They would get Femke to the infirmary and he was sure she would be all right. The diplomatic mess would be sorted out. It was over – at least for now.
One fear remained. Shalidar. Reynik knew he had made an enemy of the assassin today. Shalidar was not one to forgive and forget.
‘Well, Shalidar,’ Reynik muttered under his breath. ‘Neither am I.’
