Varanus looked at Korbinian, her eyes wide, her hands shaking. They were going to murder her! She had spent weeks in isolation, starved of both food and books, and now she was going to be murdered before she was given a reprieve of either!
“I think perhaps you should kill them, liebchen,” Korbinian said to her, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. “Indeed, I am certain of it.”
The door opened and Teimuraz rushed into the room, followed by a large man clad in mail. Both men had swords drawn. They advanced a few paces into the cell before realizing that the bed was empty. Before they could turn, Varanus struck.
There was no point in fleeing, she knew: they were far taller and would simply run her down in the hallway. Instead, she advanced on them and lashed out at Teimuraz’s companion, reckoning him—as the larger of the two—to be the greater threat. Before either man had time to react, Varanus drove her foot against the big fellow’s knee with enough force to break the joint. Caught by surprise, the man made a noise and fell to the ground.
Of course, he was not out of the fight, not by any measure. He was among the Living, and his leg would be whole again before long. But capitalizing on her moment of surprise, Varanus stomped on the man’s hand with as much force as she could manage and then tore the sword from his grasp.
Though startled by the ambush, Teimuraz recovered quickly and lunged at Varanus. Varanus parried his blows as best she could manage, but despite surprise and overconfidence, Teimuraz still knew his business. As Varanus fell back under the blows, she felt her enemy’s sword score cuts upon her face, arms, and even her sides. But the pain only served to fuel Varanus’s fervor until whiteness rimmed her vision, and she could see little but the flashing swords, the blood, and Teimuraz’s face.
Unable to match the speed of Teimuraz’s sword-thrusts, it occurred to Varanus not to try. Instead, as Teimuraz lunged at her again, Varanus stepped forward onto the point of his sword, plunging it into her belly. The pain made her shudder, and she saw Korbinian standing behind Teimuraz, his face and clothes stained with blood.
“Oh liebchen,” Korbinian said sadly, “how we suffer to survive.”
Teimuraz snarled at Varanus, shouting obscenities as he struggled to pull his weapon free from her, but Varanus did not give him the opportunity. She twisted from side to side to break her enemy’s hold on the sword as she stabbed him again and again with her own weapon. Finally, Teimuraz let go and struck Varanus on the side of the head, pitching her into the wall.
Stunned for a moment, Varanus still managed to keep her feet. Teimuraz evidently did not expect her to recover from her injuries, and he turned to help his injured comrade.
“Now, liebchen!” Korbinian shouted. “Now!”
He was right. Varanus saw her opportunity and took it. She stumbled forward and stabbed the man on the floor through his throat to properly immobilize him. Teimuraz dropped his comrade’s arm and stared dumbstruck at Varanus. He had evidently underestimated how much trauma could be withstood by one still within her century.
Varanus did not give him time to recover his wits. She grabbed Teimuraz by the collar and drove the point of her sword up through his chin and into his skull. Teimuraz gurgled something incoherent and shook, his body uncertain of how to respond to the confusion in his traumatized brain. Varanus let him fall to the ground before she too collapsed.
She was not certain when she regained her senses, but it could not have been long. Her body ached from the sword, but her other wounds were slowly closing. Very slowly, however: starvation was a cruel mistress to the healing process.
Teimuraz and the other man were still on the floor, but Varanus could not tell if they were alive or dead: the damage might have been enough, or they might recover. Only a proper beheading would make their deaths certain.
Korbinian knelt before her and smiled. He was still covered in blood, but under the circumstances Varanus could not fault him for it. Korbinian took her hands and placed them on the hilt of the sword.
“Let us attend to this,” he said, “before it becomes any worse.”
“This will hurt,” Varanus replied, grimacing.
“More than it does already?”
Varanus gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. She took a breath, which hurt tremendously, and drew the sword from her body.
It was horribly painful and her head swam but somehow she managed it. When the sword had been removed, Varanus fell back against the wall and gasped for air. She didn’t need it, of course, but somehow breathing seemed to make her feel better.
Presently, her body had mended itself well enough for her to rise again. Teimuraz was still on the ground, but the other man was beginning to move and groan, his throat almost intact. Varanus decided it was prudent to attend to both of them just in case.
When she had beheaded them, Varanus took up one of the swords and stumbled out into the hallway. The passage was empty, though there was blood on the stone floor. Several of the cells were open, and a look confirmed that they were empty. The other prisoners—“penitents”—had been taken somewhere, while Varanus alone had been selected for death.
She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended. Probably offended. Teimuraz had spoken of her youth so derisively, after all.
“What is going on?” she asked aloud.
“I cannot say, liebchen,” Korbinian answered from behind her. “But I will tell you this: I would feel much more comfortable with a shotgun. Or possibly an elephant gun.”
Varanus thought for a moment and nodded. It was a sensible enough plan. Granted, the recent violence and head trauma may have affected her, but more weapons did sound prudent, at least until they knew what was going on.
“We shall go the Luka’s chamber,” she told Korbinian. “He’ll doubtless have several.”
“And after that?”
Varanus cracked her neck and replied, “After that, we are going to find Ekaterine, give her something to shoot with, and sort all this out.”
* * * *
Varanus hurried toward the upper levels, Korbinian following a few paces behind her and remarking on what he called the “manifold similarities” between Varanus’s circumstances and the story of William Tell. Varanus was inclined to disagree, but as Korbinian was bleeding profusely all over the brocade carpets, she felt inclined not to mention it.
She had hoped that after escaping the dungeons she might have some better sense of what was going on, that there might be someone from whom she could demand an explanation. But there was not. The corridors of the castle seemed largely empty, though here and there she came across marks of blood and violence that led her to believe that the recent attempt upon her life was not altogether unique.
Most troubling, she thought, as she passed through one of the empty kitchens and helped herself to some roasted lamb, which was still sitting on a spit over one of the hearths. The kitchen staff, however, was nowhere to be seen. Varanus had no idea what to make of it.
Her concern only grew as she came upon a trio of bodies—two scholars and a soldier whom she recognized as Yevgeni of Pskov, one of Magnus’s many fencing partners. They were all hideously brutalized with the blows of swords and axes, and strangely they had also been shot through with arrows.
“Archery at close quarters?” Varanus mused, studying the scene.
“Perhaps the arrows were meant to drive them in here,” Korbinian noted, pointing to the room, which stood adjacent to the corridor, “where they could be massacred at leisure.”
Varanus shook her head. “How monstrous. Who would do this?”
“Who can say?” Korbinian answered. “But it is certainly violence. Something is amiss. If you’ll forgive my saying so, something is rotten in the House of Shashava.”
“I think that Shakespeare is hardly appropriate at such a time,” Varanus told him.
Korbinian looked at the bodies upon the floor.
“I would consider him more than usually appropriate under the circumstances,” he remarked.
“We must find Ekaterine before something happens to her,” Varanus said, suddenly very worried for her friend’s safety. “I only wish that Lord Iosef were here.”
“For protection?” Korbinian asked, sounding astonished at the very suggestion that Varanus might need it.
“Don’t be silly,” Varanus replied. “I want to explain to him what’s happened, so I don’t get in trouble for killing people.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I rather suspect there’s going to be more of that before the day is out. I’d prefer for there to be someone who takes my plea of self defense seriously.”
“More killing, liebchen? Surely not—”
Korbinian was interrupted as a young woman dressed in dark robes ran into the room and pressed herself up against the wall. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she looked on the verge of panic. It took Varanus a few moments, but she recognized the woman as Judith ben Loew, who in her mortality had disguised herself as a man in order to study under the great Rabbi Loew of Prague.
“Doctor Varanus?” Judith exclaimed, startled at the sight of her.
“Rabbi,” Varanus replied, nodding in greeting. Though Judith’s title of teacher had been obtained while in her guise as a man—Judah ben Loew—by the laws of the Shashavani, it was hers to claim. “Hello?”
Varanus did not know what else to say.
“Doctor, what are you doing here?” Judith asked.
“I...um...” Varanus stammered.
“Did he see you come in here?”
“No, of course not. I—” Varanus suddenly stopped and looked back toward the door, realizing something. It had been almost half an hour since she had killed Teimuraz. He could not be the one that Judith was fleeing. “Rabbi...who is chasing you?”
Judith was breathless with fear as she replied, “Brother Thoros—”
She was interrupted as a voice called from the corridor, “Where are you?” It was a man’s voice speaking in a mirthful, singsong manner. “Come out, come out, wherever you are....”
“He’s found us!” Judith hissed, her face pale with fear—or possibly blood loss.
Varanus ran to the door and looked out into the corridor. She saw a huge man dressed in silken robes walking in their direction, though he was still some distance away. He was a member of Sophio’s Council, though which one she could not clearly place. She was cross with all of them for having placed her in confinement, and that anger made them all more or less run together into a collective mass. The man was covered in blood, and Varanus recognized his expression as one of delight at the very prospect of violence. He carried a composite bow of Shashavani make, a weapon so powerful that only the Living had the strength to draw it.
“That explains that,” Korbinian noted, nodding toward the corpses and the arrows in them.
Varanus looked around the room. It was a simple antechamber for reading and discourse. If Thoros cornered them in there, there would be no escape.
“We must run,” she said, nodding toward the corridor.
“Agreed,” said Judith. She glanced through the doorway. “He’s not looking. Go now!”
Varanus glanced into the corridor and saw that Judith was right: Thoros had turned to look behind himself, his whole attitude leisurely and disinterested. The thought of such a casual regard for impending slaughter made Varanus sick, though at the same time she felt some strange appreciation for it.
With Judith close behind her, Varanus dashed into the corridor and ran along it as quickly as she could manage. Judith’s stride threatened to outpace her, but the woman grabbed Varanus by the hand and tried to keep pace, despite the danger. Varanus appreciated the gesture, though as she ran, sword in hand, she felt that it was somewhat unnecessary. She had half a mind to turn and face Thoros, to vent upon him the totality of her anger; but she realized that, old as he was, he would probably kill her in the struggle, so she restrained the urge.
The corridor turned sharply to the right, and Varanus bolted in that direction. She felt pain blossom in the area of her shoulder, but she ignored it. As Judith turned into the adjacent passage with her, the woman gasped in horror.
“Doctor Varanus!” she exclaimed.
Varanus paused and looked over her shoulder to see that an arrow had been shot into it and now sat lodged just below her shoulder blade. It hurt horribly, and the pain only increased as she looked at it and allowed herself to realize the extent of the damage.
What a damned nuisance, she thought.
“Rabbi, forgive my asking,” she said, “but would you kindly...?”
Judith grimaced at the idea, her expression filled with sympathy for Varanus’s pain.
“Doctor...?”
“Now, please,” Varanus said. “We have no time.”
Judith gritted her teeth and, with a few short, painful tugs, pulled the arrow from Varanus’s flesh.
“Are you well, Doctor?” she asked when it had been done.
“I am in pain and hungry,” Varanus answered, shuddering as she spoke. “I think that ‘well’ is no longer an option.”
She took Judith by the hand, and they kept on running toward a gallery that overlooked one of the dining halls. Glancing back, Varanus saw Thoros meander into the passage behind them, stringing another arrow to his bow. Again, his movements were utterly relaxed, like a gentleman out hunting grouse.
Varanus and Judith ran on, but Varanus knew that it would only be a matter of moments before they were shot again. She glanced to the side and saw Korbinian running with them.
“What you require, liebchen,” he said, “is a friend of considerably more years than you.”
Before Varanus could reply, she saw a figure step out into the corridor in front of them. Varanus stumbled and very nearly collided with the newcomer, a woman of small stature, only slightly taller than she. Judith skidded to a halt as well and froze in place.
“Sister Marie!” she exclaimed.
It was another one of Sophio’s advisors, Marie of Toulouse. Varanus halted at this realization. Was Marie going to try to murder her as well? It seemed a bit excessive, considering that she had only stolen some water.
Marie looked at them, startled, and then turned her gaze toward Thoros as he rounded the corner, bow in hand.
“Run,” she said. “Get to the countryside. Now!”
Thoros raised his bow and took aim. Varanus grabbed Judith and bolted toward a set of stairs that led down into the dining hall below them. She expected Thoros’s arrow to strike one of them at any moment. When it did not, she paused a moment and looked back.
She saw Marie shudder violently as Thoros’s arrow struck her in the head. Varanus winced, anticipating the pain of such an injury. She expected Marie to fall, but the woman did not. Instead, she turned toward them, the arrow protruding from where it had lodged in her right eye.
“I told you to run!” Marie shouted at them as she pulled the arrow free. Having given her command again, she turned back toward Thoros and charged him.
Varanus knew better than to linger. She grabbed Judith again and ran to the stairs. Behind them, she heard the sounds of battle and the pained cries of both Marie and Thoros. Varanus felt a twinge of guilt at fleeing. She still had Teimuraz’s sword. Perhaps she should turn and join the fight?
Korbinian appeared in the doorway ahead of her.
“Liebchen, be reasonable,” he said. “Sister Marie is six hundred years old. Sister Judith is three hundred, and you are not even one! One suspects that there is little you can do that Marie cannot. And besides, you must find your friend. God knows what may have happened to her.”
He was right about that. Varanus gritted her teeth and kept on running. She hiked up her skirts and hurried down the stairs alongside Judith. On the floor below, they br
oke out into the dinning hall with its long tables and rows of candelabra, their candles unlit. For the first time since fleeing her cell, Varanus realized that it was daytime. That was a problem. The old could escape into the countryside without fear, but the young would burn in the light.
Varanus would burn in the light.
These musings were suddenly interrupted as a body fell from above and crashed onto one of the candelabra. Varanus jumped in surprise, a motion mimicked by Judith. Turning, she saw Marie lying face-up atop the iron candleholder, its points driven into her back from the force of the fall.
Judith cried out, covering her mouth with her hands. Varanus cringed at the sight, having some idea of how it must have felt; for she knew, however damaging, such injury had not killed Marie.
A few moments later, Marie’s eye opened, and she looked around in confusion. Presently, she turned her gaze toward Varanus and Judith.
“I am upside-down,” she said, rather matter-of-factly.
“That would not be inaccurate, My Lady,” Varanus said.
Marie looked around for a moment, struggling to get her bearings. She also struggled to move, which proved far less effective.
“What have I fallen onto?” she finally asked.
“A candelabrum,” Judith said, her expression still horrified by the sight.
“Could you...help me off it?” Marie asked, her tone so detached that it was almost as horrible as the sight of injury.
Varanus and Judith each did their best to lift Marie from the spikes of the candelabrum, but they had twisted into Marie’s flesh and would not let her go. Varanus looked up and saw Thoros standing on the balcony above them, grinning cruelly. He reached for a fresh arrow but found his quiver empty. Laughing, he lowered his bow, drew his sword, and began walking toward the stairs.
The sheer nonchalance with which Thoros carried himself infuriated Varanus. He was so confident in his ability to slaughter them all with ease that he did not even feel the need to hurry after them. Arrogance was a vice that Varanus had little patience for, especially when it was directed against her.
The Ouroboros Cycle, Book Three: A Long-Awaited Treachery Page 15
