105. ARTHAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
When Arthan left Brugarn’s bedside, he found Serdot waiting for him outside the door.
“Will he live?” Serdot asked.
“His physician says he shouldn’t have survived the attack.”
“Pity he did. If he lives through the night, I could slip something into his popaver.”
“I’ll hear no more of that, Serdot. If God takes the wretched man we’ll all be the better for it, but it won’t be by our hands. Tell me about the situation in the palace.”
“The assassins are hiding somewhere. Hamelin’s Crownblades are searching everywhere. General Chaultion has summoned additional soldiers from the outlaying garrisons. There are still fires burning in the northeast wing and creeping up the prison tower. Tronchet is still alive, but barely. He lost his keys, or the soldiers dropped them when they helped him out of there—both unlikely. The assassins probably stole them, which means they can go wherever they please.”
“Will our favorite magistrate live?” Arthan asked as they briskly rounded a corner.
“I think so. He’s burned on his hands and face, and will be foggy in the head for a while. Ugly gash on the back of his head. He’s in and out of sleep, so we can’t get him to tell us anything. I thought about Milisend’s thief, but without Tronchet’s keys…”
“Well, now that Milisend is dead…We have more important things to do than save a condemned thief.”
“The separate attacks that killed the princesses and Voufon tell me we’re dealing with a group, maybe a dozen assassins or more,” Serdot said.
“There were only two that attacked Voufon and Brugarn. Regardless of their number, my God—almost the entire Avaleau monarchy is wiped out.”
“Erech, his brothers, and the queen are the only ones left of the direct line,” Serdot agreed.
“We must find these killers, Serdot. We’ve never seen anything like them, their armor and weapons, the way they move and run walls. Even the Crownblades are far outmatched.”
“I saw how your alchemical sword reacted to their flaming sword. Unless Hamelin has an armory of arcanae weaponry hidden away, you may be the only one who can stop them.”
“Where are you leading me?” Arthan asked.
“Hamelin asked me to bring you to one of the passages in the southwest wing. Remember how most doors there were reported to be blocked, locked from the inside since the attacks?”
“Yes. With strong sleep candles littering the floors.”
“Right, and tripwires that shot orange powder. Those two Crownblades died, by the way. Well, Hamelin found a corridor unlocked and without traps. A single unlit candle, but his men are too frightened to approach. They’ve all heard about your sword and want you to see it first.”
Arthan looked at Serdot. “The Crownblades are waiting on me to investigate a candle, Serdot? Brugarn may have Hamelin’s head over these attacks—maybe mine, too—yet Hamelin is worried about an unlit candle?”
“The tactics of these assassins have frightened the knights, my lord. You recently embraced the ancient arts crafted into Adrithayn, as Maillard intended. But the knights are unaccustomed to such things.”
“Adrithayn is a mystery to me as well. I know you’ve not had time to find that historian, Danleri.”
“I did make inquiries before the latest attacks. I confirmed what Pelinaud said, that Danleri lives here in the capital, over in the Genthus District. Also, Danleri once taught at Bredahade Academy, where Garion and Arasemis once were. I planned to send a letter summoning Danleri to Clonmel.”
“Send it today. I need to know how Adrithayn works, and about the arcanae in general. These assassins clearly have a grasp of the ancient arts, leaving us at a great disadvantage.”
“Just as your father warned in his letter. I will have Danleri come to Clonmel as soon as possible.”
“Come, we don’t want to keep Hamelin waiting, worried over a candle.”
---
When they arrived at the corridor they found Hamelin pacing back and forth. Arthan’s Marshal of Inquiry soldiers, led by Sir Debanor, and a contingent of Racharders led by Livonier were also waiting.
“A candle?” Arthan asked.
“Don’t mock me,” Hamelin said. “I’ve lost more than a few Crownblades to these tricks. As if the superior armor of the assassins weren’t trouble enough.”
Arthan glanced at the many knights who watched him intently. He knew they were brave men and women simply caught off guard by strange methods. “Let’s have a look, then,” he said, stepping toward the door.
A knight opened it for him, and it was just as they had said. The corridor was dark, with only moonlight shining through the windows. A single, abnormally tall candle sat in the middle.
“Careful,” Livonier said. “If this is the least obstructed corridor, it must be a trap.”
“Or a diversion,” Serdot said, “since this is not the way to the king’s tower.”
“Perhaps they move in roundabout ways,” Hamelin said.
“They’re just buying time for themselves,” Arthan said.
“For what?” Hamelin asked. “They go anywhere whenever they want.”
“For the final assault on the king’s tower. How long before the smithies break through the south corridor obstacles?”
“An hour at most,” Hamelin said. “Then we’ll have to deal with the poison traps they’ve likely set there.”
Arthan stepped into the corridor, keeping his eye on the unlit candle. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Livonier.
“My lord, let one of the Racharders go first.”
Arthan drew Adrithayn from his belt. “This is my duty.”
Serdot followed him into the corridor. “Here is Marlan’s mask, my lord. I have Garion’s.” Arthan took the mask, keeping his eyes fixed. “I don’t have any gill fern fronds to refresh these,” Serdot continued, “so breathe sparingly if you can.”
“Better than nothing,” Arthan said, watching the candle. It was white and normal, except for being about knee-high. It was sitting on a pewter plate, which appeared to be full of water.
“Serdot,” Arthan whispered. “Can presence candles light themselves?”
“None that I’m familiar with.”
As they moved forward Arthan thought he saw a faint ember float up from the wick. He stopped and nothing happened. When he took another step he was sure he saw an ember.
“Did you see that, Serdot?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“We’re about to become familiar with a self-lighting one.” He kept his sword out front.
“Look, the ember grows,” Serdot said.
Arthan saw it. The wick reddened as they crept closer. Within seconds the wick burst into flame. The white candle turned red, and its fire beamed. It burned quickly. Spent wax beaded in the water and spilled over the plate onto the floor, but instead of pooling it kept rolling—toward them—like rivulets of burning oil. When they stopped walking it stopped rolling.
They stayed still as a scarlet cloud formed around the flame, spinning like a miniature whirlwind that gained strength as the candle burned down. The cloud brightened as it expanded. Arthan lunged forward and swiped through the cloud. He smelled sulfur through his mask as the edge of the cloud bubbled outward. Then it shrank and Adrithayn’s blade turned scarlet.
Arthan stepped back from the cloud, but the candle continued to pump out the gas. He stepped forward again and swiped at the candle itself. The top half was cast off and extinguished itself when it hit the ground.
Arthan breathed out and straightened. “Well, that was not as bad as—”
He saw a flash through his mask as the candle stump relit and the remainder of the scarlet cloud ignited. Arthan hacked at the candle and plate until it was a heap of fragments with rising embers. He placed his hand over his heart, feeling it stutter. I
t made him think of Meriam.
“Your robes are singed,” Serdot said.
“So is your mask,” Arthan said.
“What was that evil magic?” Hamelin said.
Arthan turned to see the knights walking down the corridor. “Careful, residue of that foul air may linger.”
“It’s not magic,” Serdot said. “Just clever alchemy.”
“Your sword,” Debanor said, pointing to Adrithayn’s scarlet hue.
“I think as long as it does not strike metal, the poison will stay in the blade,” Arthan said. “I think.”
“We must make haste for the king’s tower,” Hamelin said.
106. FETZER
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
“Ready?” Marlan asked. Everyone nodded. He led the charge around the corner, with Fetzer close behind him. The Crownblades guarding the stairs to the king’s tower saw them coming and sounded the alarm.
Fetzer smiled under his mask. He would do as Marlan asked him not to do. He knew Marlan and the others would stay out of his way.
As he jogged, Fetzer reached to his left side and opened the metal flap above his hip. He found the knob and pulled it outward, then rammed it back in again. The air escaped as the lamp oil surged through the veins in his armor and up into his helmet. He veered toward the wall and smacked at a torch sconce with his hands.
The fire snaked down his arms and across the mechan. He felt the suit expand and tighten around his body at the heat. Juhl and Rodel cursed behind him. Marlan did not turn, but the bright light and heat was impossible to mistake.
Marlan crashed into the Crownblades, his flaming sword parting their ranks. But most of the knights were distracted by Fetzer. Their eyes widened with fear, and he relished it. He threw himself into them, slashing and reaching out for them with flaming fists. Rodel’s crossbow bolts pelted through the smoke and into the knights, and Juhl skated in with her tornadic blades. Of the two dozen Crownblades and guards, half fell in those first moments.
Fetzer pushed through to the door to the stairs and found it locked. He let his fire leap onto its wooden planks, but it would not catch for long. There were too many iron studs and plates. He turned back to the fight.
“The door is locked solid!”
Marlan dispatched a knight and came over, jabbing his red-hot sword into the great lock. It melted out of the door like pudding. He and Fetzer charged into it, forcing it ajar. But obstacles had been positioned behind it. Spearmen stabbed out at them from the inside. Marlan melted down the door’s hinges, freeing it from the wall and falling inward, contributing to the blockage.
“Put the poison in your mechan veins!” Fetzer shouted. “If not now, when?”
He knew Marlan was irritated with him. He stood there with his arm shielding his face from Fetzer’s heat as the others finished the guards. Finally, Marlan opened his flap and pumped the knob, sending a purple liquid through his mechan veins. The misty gas soon whispered out. Marlan continued to hack at the fortified door as the mist seeped through to the spearmen.
Fetzer and Rodel dispatched the last of the Crownblades. Juhl was standing awkwardly against the wall for support. Rodel went to her as Fetzer looked on.
“It’s nothing,” she said through her mask, swatting Rodel’s hand away.
Fetzer knew her shoulder still pained her, raw as it was. She should have been more careful.
Marlan finally broke the door in half after several spearmen succumbed to the poison. Fetzer and the others followed him through the debris and finished off the guards.
“Fetzer, Rodel,” Marlan said as he pointed to an open door with the Avaleau coat of arms on the lintel. “The queen’s new room should be down this hallway. Do it quickly.”
Fetzer looked toward the broad spiral staircase. He did not want to waste time with a bedridden queen. Without hesitation he ran toward the stairs.
“Fetzer!” Marlan shouted.
Fetzer pressed on. Let them kill her, he told himself. He was destined for something greater.
He felt a new vigor flow into his own veins under the mechan. He did not stop for the guards who came down the spiraling steps, tossing or slashing at them. He charged upward until he reached a large anteroom. It was full of guards, and they were ready to defend, but not ready for his walking fire.
He charged into them, finding a few knights brave enough to confront him. But none rivaled his swordsmanship, and all withered from the heat. All of them perished or fled. He left the wounded ones to struggle with their unquenchable burns, charging up the next spiral staircase.
107. ARTHAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
“We’re too late!” Serdot shouted.
Arthan sprinted past the fallen Crownblades. It was only the mangled wreck of the heavy door that gave him pause. It looked as though it had been chewed by the fabled volcanoes of the Far East. And a peculiar stench hung in the air with the smoke. Something poisonous. Inside the anteroom was more carnage.
“Hamelin, go to the queen’s quarters with half the men,” Arthan said. “I’ll take the rest upstairs.”
Hamelin rushed down the corridor as Arthan mounted the broad spiral stairs. Screams and heavy thuds echoed down, and the putrid smell became stronger.
Arthan paused, looking at the scarlet hue of Adrithayn. “Serdot, I think it’s time for the Candlestone masks again. We’re getting closer.” Serdot complied and Arthan turned to Livonier and Debanor. “Regretfully, we only have two. Stay back if they use poison clouds.”
They pressed forward until they reached another anteroom. Dead and wounded soldiers lay littered about. Arthan crouched next to one of the Crownblades.
“How many?”
“Four assassins…I think,” the knight said. “A burning man…purple mist, wheeled blades…and a crossbow-armed one…”
Another knight lying next to the first was struggling to speak. Arthan went to him and held his hand.
“F-five…” the knight whispered as blood trickled from his mouth. Then his eyes rolled skyward and his mouth dropped. Arthan thought he had passed, until he noticed the dying knight’s eyes tracking something above them.
Arthan looked up into the rafters and saw the edge of a dark form fall behind him. Serdot was knocked to the floor, his small crossbow taken from him as he fell. Then the slender figure disappeared up the next set of spiral stairs.
“Stop him!” Arthan shouted, but the figure was gone.
108. MILISEND
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Milisend told herself her next encounter with the assassins would be different. She knew they would kill her father, but she would not stop now, and she’d certainly not waste time explaining herself to Arthan. In the end, it would not matter. She would stop one of them, preferably the burning man, even if it killed her.
Milisend saw a shadow move on the curved wall of the spiral stairs. The figure raced toward her, with wheeled boots tearing down the wall. The assassin’s bladed hands scraped at the center column of the stairs. Milisend ducked low as the assassin passed, then she turned as the assassin’s masked face looked at her from below. Milisend pointed Serdot’s crossbow at the eye slits of the mask. She hesitated, and the assassin vanished down the stairs. It was her only shot, and she would need the bolt.
Milisend pushed up from the stairs as the assassin’s metal wheels echoed up the stairwell. Then she sprinted forward, taking three steps at a time.
109. MARLAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
It was easy to see where Fetzer had been. New fires danced on tapestries and furniture. Marlan knew Fetzer would not listen, so he did not try to stop him. They were breaking through the layers of guards faster than Marlan or Arasemis had planned. He hoped that once the task was done, Fetzer would calm down and subm
it to orders again. Marlan turned to Rodel after the last guard on the landing was finished off.
“Post yourself here, Rodel,” he said. “If Valient’s men make it past Juhl, don’t let them get past you. You have to hold them off until we’re done.”
Rodel nodded. “And after?”
“You and Juhl escape to Borel. Make sure you’re not followed. Fetzer and I will arrive separately. Then we’ll follow Arasemis’s lead, probably back to Thorendor.”
Marlan left Rodel at the top of the spiral stairs and looked for Fetzer’s golden light. He let Fetzer stay ahead of him, like a hunting dog chasing down game. The king’s tower chambers were like a small maze, with many sitting and entertaining rooms, a solar, bathhouse, and kitchen.
110. MILISEND
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Expecting another wall runner, Milisend cautiously watched the curved wall of the stairs for more fast-moving shadows. But she did not slow down until she reached the top. Fire and bodies were everywhere.
She stepped toward the sound of fighting ahead but paused at a clicking sound, like the turning of several locks or wheels. She dove to the ground and rolled amid the whip of a crossbow and the ricochet of bolts. When the shooting stopped she sprinted toward the man hiding in the shadows behind the landing.
The assassin was shaking one of his arms frantically. Milisend pounced on him, repeatedly stabbing at the seams of his armor. But he was quick. His fist caught her in the mouth, and she tumbled away. He tried to pull at a crossbow bolt jammed in his bulky arm, but it would not clear. He seemed more concerned with watching the stairwell than fighting her.
Milisend took a step backward, and he did not follow. She turned and sprinted for the balcony.
111. MARLAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Lords of Deception Page 45
