A waste, Marlan thought to himself. The Crownblades had little hope but had died bravely. They were the last to die for this king. Finally Marlan found Fetzer taking down a few soldiers guarding a locked door. Marlan stabbed through the lock with his flaming sword, quickly melting it.
“Are you ready?” he asked Fetzer.
Fetzer did not even look at him. He kicked open the door, and they pushed into Erech’s bedchamber. The king was out on his balcony, staring up into the first glimmer of the predawn sky. Fetzer ran straight for him.
At the last moment Erech turned and swept the ancient Rhunegeld sword across Fetzer’s breastplate. The surprise blow knocked Fetzer off balance, and he fell. Erech was initially stunned to see Rhunegeld pull flames from Fetzer’s mechan, but he raised the blade to strike Fetzer where he lay.
Marlan could not get there in time. Erech slammed Rhunegeld down onto Fetzer as he tried to stand. Erech’s sword burned bright. Flames continued to leap from the lamp armor to Rhunegeld. Marlan realized the sword was like Arthan’s. Fetzer rolled away from Erech’s next slash.
Marlan charged, raising his own flaming sword, and the king squared himself. Marlan did not expect the vigor displayed by Erech as their swords clashed. The king was still strong despite his weakened mind. Marlan was startled to see Erech’s sword now shining as white-hot as his own but without searing the king’s ungloved hands. Marlan feared that Erech would be able to melt open his mechan.
Fetzer finally found his feet. The two fought Erech along the balcony, which looped around the tower. Marlan could hear Fetzer’s fury as he shouted with every blow, slashing and lunging recklessly. Marlan had to avoid Fetzer more than once, which eased the pressure on the king. Erech backpedaled to rest, but they turned the corner and kept on.
A slender black figure appeared on the balcony behind Erech, like the one Fetzer and Juhl had described in the princesses’ wing. The black-clothed woman was still. It took Marlan a moment to realize she was aiming a small crossbow. The next instant he saw a glint of light. Marlan instinctively looked away, but not soon enough.
The bolt punched diagonally through the mask’s crystal lens, shearing off the outside corner of his eyebrow, taking some bone with it. The lens lodged into Marlan’s cheek. His skull quaked with pain, and he shrieked. He backed away from Erech and Fetzer’s engagement and turned back around the corner to avoid another shot.
Marlan took a deep breath and carefully pulled off the mask. He released the pressure on the mechan’s poison reservoir but knew it would take the veins a moment to empty. He pulled the lens from his cheek and tossed it from the balcony. The winds quickly dissipated the residual cloud, so he allowed himself to breathe. Then he charged back around the corner.
He dodged around Erech and Fetzer, their combined heat now warming the stones of the tower like a hearth. He ran past them toward her. He felt the blood gush from his face, but he saw her well enough. She raised her sword.
Marlan’s sword melted straight through her blade, leaving her with a shard. She jabbed at his wounded face with her fist. Marlan fell to the ground, expecting a blow to the back of his head with the shard. But it did not come. He paused on his knees, his head throbbing and robbing him of his balance.
112. ARTHAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Arthan found moving with the Candlestone mask to be awkward. The narrow, crystal-lensed eye slits did not allow for much visibility. He wondered how the assassins, nimble and quick as they were, could do anything with the masks on.
As he climbed the stairwell behind Serdot, he noticed a peculiar sweet scent inside the mask. He remembered Serdot explaining how the gill ferns layered inside the mask provided fresh air. The scent was refreshing.
“Down!” Serdot shouted.
Arthan crouched as best as he could in his armor amid the squeak and scrape of metal wheels on stone. He caught a glimpse of the figure as she spiraled down the wall, bladed hands extended. One of the knights behind Arthan did not duck quickly enough. His headless body fell onto the soldiers coming up the stairs. There was more shouting below as the attacker spiraled down.
“Where do they get such exotic weapons and armor?” Arthan yelled out in frustration.
“Arcanae…” Serdot said as they pushed forward.
“We need that Danleri fellow to explain it all,” Arthan said.
“I sent a summons before we left Clonmel,” Serdot said. “Hurry, my lord, we’re nearly at the top.”
113. RODEL
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Rodel watched the black-leathered woman go. He guessed that Fetzer and Marlan could deal easily enough with her, whoever she was. Rodel was more concerned with Juhl’s plowing down the stairwell, knowing the Donovards would be too numerous for her and desperate to save their king.
Rodel waited at the top of the stairs, cursing his mechan. The jammed bolt would not dislodge, so his whole arm mechanism would not turn and recock for the next shot. He disengaged the cocking rod on his thigh and walked a bit easier.
The scraping echo of Juhl’s wheels finally faded, now replaced by the shouts and footfalls of the Donovards. He picked up a sword from one of the fallen Crownblades but had no intention of confronting all of them. He knew Fetzer and Marlan would not need him to delay them, and he certainly would not die to buy them a few moments. He was more concerned about Juhl.
When the shouting grew louder Rodel reached into his pouch. He tossed his last two poison eggs down the stairs. He waited for the orange smoke to drift up and heard the coughing and vomiting. He was surprised to see two masked figures turn the corner and charge up despite the smoke. Was it Arasemis and Nidlade, or other supporters? He hesitated until he saw the second one had a scarlet-hued sword that absorbed some of the orange gas.
Rodel pulled out a couple cloaking eggs and threw them at the top of the stairs. Black smoke engulfed the landing as he ran behind the stairwell, breaking more cloaking eggs as he went. The Donovards stumbled up into the room. He waited flat against the smoke-shrouded wall as the soldiers ascended and rushed toward the tower balcony. When the stairwell was quiet again he hopped over the side and spiraled down the stairs.
It took time to leap over the bodies. When he reached the bottom he heard Juhl struggling. She was at the end of the corridor by the broken doors, crossing blades with a determined Crownblade. Blood trickled out of her mechan where the black-leathered woman had stabbed her. Juhl moved slow, but fast enough to block the knight’s attack.
Rodel rushed to engage the Crownblade. Juhl used the opening to slash at the Crownblade’s legs and Rodel quickly finished him off.
“Juhl, you are not well.”
She collapsed, and he caught her. “Is…the task…?” she whispered.
“Fetzer and Marlan will finish it, if they haven’t already,” he said as he pushed up her mask. He pulled his up as well. “Now it’s time for us to leave.”
Juhl shook her head. “Leave me…Make sure it’s done.”
“We’ve done our part, Juhl. We’ll meet them in Borel. Can you walk?” He stood her up and pulled the lever on her thigh to disengage her boot wheels, then the levers that retracted the blades. “I’ve got enough cloaking eggs to get us out,” he continued, “but you must take off this mechan.”
She scowled at him. “I’ll not abandon it…We are Candlestone.”
Rodel summoned his strength and threw her heavy arm over his shoulder, pressing his gauntlet over her wound. Then he hurried her onward.
114. MILISEND
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
She ran to them. “Father, it’s me!” Milisend yelled as she joined the fight against the burning man. The king paid her little attention. If he recognized her voice he did not show it, but neither did he attack her.
Milisend flung her sword shard at the man’s m
ask, then kicked and punched at him as Regaume had taught her. The assassin’s flames soon danced onto her gloves and arm leathers, forcing her to back away and smack them out. But it was no use. Only her father’s sword kept the hellish assassin from killing them both.
Weaponless, she ran back toward the tower door to claim a sword from the slain. She ran straight into Arthan as he stepped onto the balcony. When he instinctively raised his sword, she hacked at the side of his neck with the ball of her hand, where a curved metal plate was stitched into her glove. He fell back into the room and she backpedaled to the balcony, still without a weapon.
Erech struck the burning man across his ribs. A burning liquid burst out, spraying the assassin and her father with bright oil. The flames on the man quickly died down, while those on the king grew on his robes. Erech screamed in pain and his next swipe at the assassin missed.
Milisend tried to distract the assassin, but he would not let her get close. He quickly disarmed her father and punched the king with a red-hot gauntlet, his flames having faded away. The assassin kept Milisend at a distance with his sword, then took hold of the king with his other hand.
Milisend disarmed the assassin as he looked into Erech’s eyes, but he kicked her when she bent for the sword. She looked up and saw him pull a golden knife from his belt. He plunged it into Erech’s neck. She screamed as the assassin shoved her father over the balcony. She ran to the side and caught a glimpse of him before he disappeared into the smoky darkness.
Milisend snatched Rhunegeld from the ground as the assassin approached his wounded friend. She felt the clench of a hand on her shoulder before she could turn.
“It’s you!” Serdot cried.
Milisend wrestled free and chased after the assassins.
115. FETZER
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Fetzer scooped up Marlan and his sword. He pushed Marlan toward the far side of the balcony.
“I have the hook if you can wall run,” he told Marlan.
Marlan nodded as he wiped the blood from his face. Fetzer opened the hatch on his leg where the spare lamp oil cartridge was stored. He lit the top with the dying fire in his arm veins, then tossed the cartridge behind him, knowing the black-leathered woman would follow. The cartridge burst on the stones, scattering flames and buying them time.
Fetzer reached into the hatch on his other leg and pulled out a grappling hook. Marlan unwound the steel cable from his pouch, and Fetzer connected it to the hook.
“It’s not long enough by far,” Marlan said.
“Should get us halfway, then we’ll run the rest.”
Fetzer secured the hook around a crenel on the balcony. “You first.”
Marlan hesitated. Fetzer knew the pain in his head was great. He expected Marlan to fall. But with the weight of their mechans, there was no way to carry him down.
Marlan grabbed the cable and jumped. The cable snapped taut, and he swung toward the tower wall. His boots found a grip in the wall, and he ran diagonally downward. But his wall run was too fast. Fetzer watched as Marlan spiraled around the tower once. When he came around again his feet lost the wall and he fell into the smoke that still billowed from the palace fires.
Fetzer took hold of the loose cable and jumped. Fear flashed through his mind as he fell toward the billowing gray, but his training told him that his momentum would keep him on the wall. His feet connected to the wall and he let go of the cable, running harder than he had all night. He spiraled down around the tower’s column with ease.
On the second turn his view became obscured by the smoke, and he was disoriented. He felt his feet leave the wall, and he too fell. A moment later he crashed into the slate tiles of a roof. He laughed wickedly as he sat up. Then he felt a hot hand on his shoulder and knew it was Marlan’s gauntlet. His friend was coughing bitterly.
Fetzer took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Then he pulled Marlan behind him, smiling behind the mask. He was a king killer now. He could not wait to gloat in Arasemis’s face.
116. MILISEND
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Mere flames could not slow her now. She jumped the burning oil as the smoking man jumped the balcony edge. She rushed to the side and frantically tried to use Rhunegeld to pry the grappling hook from its catch. Only when the cable swung loose could she angrily toss it down into the smoke.
Milisend looked out into the pale darkness of the predawn sky. For an instant she thought the dawn had come. But the bright light in the corner of her eye was the prison tower. It was engulfed in flame and smoke, as was the entire eastern wing of the palace. Beams collapsed and stones burst.
She watched the prison tower, heartbroken. She wished she had chosen to die with Regaume. Her tears blurred her sight, and she screamed at the darkness over and over again. Her whole body suddenly drained of stamina, ready to collapse with Regaume’s tower. She wanted to join her family in the ashes, join her beloved. Rhunegeld slid from her fingers to the stone.
Milisend stepped up onto the balcony ledge and fixed her eyes on the burning tower.
117. ARTHAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
Every step Arthan took created stabbing pain where the dark slender figure had struck him in his neck. He put his hand to his neck to support his head.
“She went this way,” Serdot said as he guided him. “It was Milisend for sure.”
Arthan thought he saw a figure floating in the sky up ahead. When they stepped through the dying flames on the ground he realized she was on the edge of the balcony, looking out. She did not turn to them.
“You’re certain it’s not another assassin?” Arthan asked.
Serdot nodded. “Just like when I saw her in Reimvick’s quarters.”
Arthan approached cautiously and lowered Adrithayn’s scarlet and orange blade. “Princess Milisend?” He took another step. “Come down from there. We are not enemies.”
She said nothing. She did not move. Arthan looked beyond her at the burning prison tower. He remembered her plea for Regaume. Could he suggest that Regaume escaped, or that the Ralmogard magistrate took him in time? Would mentioning Erech’s intention for them to wed bring her down? Nothing seemed appropriate.
“Please…” he said, but before he could say more she moved.
Milisend stretched out her arms, her palms down and fingers pointed, like wings. Her head tilted back.
“Princess! Please, come—”
She dove off the balcony in perfect form, soundless and graceful. Arthan rushed to the side. There was nothing to see in the billowing gray and black. And nothing to be said. His eyes welled, and his heart sank. For her, the king and queen, their other daughters. Everyone. And his failures.
Arthan pressed his eyes closed for a time, willing his pains and troubles to the back of his mind. He felt warmth on his brow and opened his eyes to see the sun peeking above the horizon.
“It is a new day,” Serdot whispered shakily as they watched the sun’s ascent. “There will be much to do.”
Arthan took a deep breath and nodded. Then he picked up Rhunegeld.
118. ARTHAN
Eglamour Palace, Toulon Ministry
Midsummer, 3034
“I don’t believe it,” Arthan whispered to Serdot. “Brugarn must have gone mad from his wounds.”
“Desperate and afraid, I think,” Serdot said.
They watched as guards walked the duke into the grand hall and seated him on Erech’s throne. Half his face was red with burns and boils. Most of his body was wrapped in linen gauze and padding. His attendants had thrown a soot-stained robe on him in a vain attempt to hide his injuries.
Brugarn sat uncomfortably on the throne, hunched and holding his side. His breathing was labored and hoarse. But his eyes swelled with anger, shifting among the faces of the courtiers. Arthan was surprised t
hat so many had answered the duke’s summons to court. Parts of the palace still smoldered. About half was reduced to ruins, including both of the high towers.
Steward Waldemar and General Chaultion took their places beside the throne, with Sir Hamelin nearby. Tronchet, his neck and head bandaged, was also at hand and leaning on a walking staff.
“Where is he?” Brugarn muttered to no one in particular.
“My lord?” Waldemar asked.
“The Lord Minister of Delavon…My marshal.”
“Your marshal?” Chaultion asked, leaning in to speak more. But Brugarn waved him away.
Waldemar looked warily at Arthan, but Arthan stepped forward before the steward had to ask.
“I am here,” he said.
Brugarn’s tense face relaxed and his eyes were more at ease. But his eye contact drifted and it was apparent to Arthan that he could not see well.
“Let it be known,” Brugarn said, “that Lord Valient chased the assassins away with…unorthodox methods.” Brugarn glanced toward Adrithayn sheathed on Arthan’s belt. “But successful nonetheless.”
Arthan bowed low. “I’m unworthy of this praise. The king is dead…”
“But I live,” Brugarn said, raising a shaky hand to dismiss his words. “Erech’s death could be foreseen. What could the Crownblades do against such evil?” Brugarn cut his eyes toward Hamelin. “Though the assassins were so few…Alas, Erech has three brothers. I’ve summoned Asteroth and Erath for a council…to confirm me as king, with consultation with the church, of course…”
Brugarn hunched to cough, and Chaultion handed him another handkerchief. When he sat back up blood was already seeping from the fresh bandages around his torso.
“As I was saying,” the duke continued, “despite this calamity, we are not without a worthy head to be crowned. This was the second time you saved me from those killers. Tell me about our enemy.”
Lords of Deception Page 46
