by Tod Langley
29
The Search
Kristian and Mikhal caught up with Cairn in the shadows of an alley. Their friend’s aloofness frustrated them. Cairn acted different now, once more that silent warrior able to defeat his enemies with quick efficiency, the cold-blooded master of the Atlunam sword ready to deal out death.
Cairn was Malit a’Shaif.
As Kristian moved around a pile of refuse to stand next to Cairn, he tripped over a still form lying on the wet pavement. Cairn caught Kristian with no effort and pulled him back into the shadows.
Kristian looked down to see what had nearly tripped him and found the body of a Belarnian guard. “Where did you run into him?” Kristian asked, trying to remain calm.
“Just where you about fell,” Cairn whispered.
Kristian knelt next to the body, fearing the corpse might spring back up and grab him. He felt leather straps binding its hands and legs behind its body.
“You tied him up?” Kristian asked.
“Do you want him coming back to life and attacking us?” Cairn whispered. The swordsman raised a finger to his lips and then nodded, indicating a well-lit area out in the adjoining street. Kristian frowned; he could not see whatever it was that held Cairn’s attention.
“You are going too fast. We are losing the rest of the men,” Kristian challenged.
Cairn continued to stare across the street paying little attention to Kristian. He watched a dark corner on the far side of the well lit street intently. Then he whispered something in the Atlunam language confusing Kristian even more. Kristian almost spoke again when the sharp twang of a bowstring forced him up against the wall.
The dull thud of an arrow hitting its mark echoed from across the street. Then a guard stumbled out of his hiding place, clutching at an arrow in his chest, before falling back into the shadows. Only then did Kristian see Hin’cabo step out of the alcove next to Cairn.
Cairn finally turned to address Kristian, “Then tell them to hurry.”
Kristian noticed Cairn’s gaze shifting toward the back of the column, something had distracted him. Vi-tonia was moving toward them. Cairn had relegated her to watching the rear of the column, but the Atlunam princess made it clear, on more than one occasion since entering the city, that she was tired of being ignored.
Some of the Holtsmen whispered curses at Vi-tonia, but she passed them by. Iohn and Pak followed right behind, their bows ready for any trouble. Kristian made eye contact with Vi-tonia, warning her to stay put, but she continued toward where Kristian, Mikhal, and Cairn were talking.
Cairn fidgeted for a moment before leaving his hiding place and crossing to where the guard had fallen. He checked for vital signs and then pulled more cord out of his pack; Cairn secured the dead guard’s body, ensuring it could not get back up. The swordsman, that Vi-tonia called Malit a’Shaif, then moved out into the city at the same rapid pace as before.
“You’re doing it all over again, Kristian,” Mikhal said in an angry whisper. “You are making the same type of rash decisions that almost got us killed the first time.”
The young king shook his head emphatically. “No, I’m not.” Kristian pointed to a large wall that stood out on the opposite side of a courtyard. “That wall is thirty feet high. We don’t have the time or equipment to wait for someone to go over it.”
“And if we go through the door or try to take it by force, what do you think will happen?” Mikhal shot back. “Ferral has always had the upper hand. If we just walk up to the front door of his palace, we’ll be surrounded and killed before we even get inside.”
“Look. I don’t know how else to explain it, but we’re out of time,” Kristian argued. “We have to get in there and find Allisia, now. There is no more time for discussion.” Kristian looked directly at Mikhal. “I know what I did last time. I know what my actions brought upon all of us. I will not order you to go in there, Mikhal. You can make your own decision.” Kristian turned away from Mikhal then, avoiding the cavalier’s hurt look. Kristian loosened his sword in its scabbard pretending to be too busy to continue the argument.
Mikhal grew furious with his king. Regardless of what was about to happen to them, Mikhal had learned an important lesson along the way. For the cavalier, duty and selfless service had come to mean more to him than anything, especially now that they had come so far. He could not let anything happen to his king while he lived and could protect him, even if it meant death.
“You could not leave me behind even if you left a guard on me. I’m going to let Balhir know the plan,” Mikhal said.
Kristian nodded.
As Mikhal passed her, Vi-tonia touched his arm softly. “What is happening? Are we in danger?”
Mikhal turned on her, annoyed. “Princess, you were in danger as soon as you got onto that wagon car.” Then Mikhal added, “You’re supposed to be at the rear of the column.” Disappointed that she was not getting the answers she wanted, Vi-tonia started toward the back, but then Mikhal stopped her. “No, wait. We’re getting ready to rush into the palace. You will be safer in the middle now. Just stay where you are.”
Vi-tonia was getting very tired of this treatment. She drew her short sword, feeling for the perfect grip. “Uhb Iohn y Pak. Ready yourselves,” Vi-tonia whispered to her companions. The Atlunam hunters indicated their readiness.
Cairn came back as silent as always with Hin’cabo trailing behind him. He found Kristian and said, “Things are strangely quiet inside the palace courtyard.”
Old memories came back to Kristian. Events had rapidly gone from quiet to disastrous the last time he was here.
Cairn put him at ease. “We checked all around the wall. It’s like I said earlier, there are no forces even close to us. And there are only two guards at the gate. The gate is closed, but we can get it open for you.”
Kristian had to smile. “I won’t ask how you plan to do that.” A hint of a smile twinkled in Cairn’s eyes. “But what then? What do you think we should do about getting inside the palace?” Kristian asked.
Cairn paused to think about the question. “Sometimes surprise and violence are better than the cautious approach.”
Cairn’s answer surprised Kristian. “You want us to just bust down the front doors?” Kristian asked.
Cairn simply shrugged. “His forces seem committed elsewhere.”
“And what if everyone we kill rises back up and chases us while we’re looking for Allisia? Do you have enough cord for all of them?”
Cairn looked back at the wall. “No, I only have enough for a few more, probably the two at the gate and that’s it.”
Mikhal returned then and reported that Balhir and his men were ready, though somewhat confused about what Kristian wanted them to do.
Cairn noticed Vi-tonia standing close to them, ready for combat. “What about her?” Cairn asked.
Kristian gave him a sour look. “She should never have come.” Realizing that complaining about the situation now would not help, Kristian added, “Leave Vi-tonia here with her two hunters. They can watch the entrance to the courtyard and hopefully ensure the way is still open for us once we return. Make sure they secure the bodies or cut them to pieces so they don’t attack us twice.”
Cairn nodded, satisfied.
Vi-tonia turned toward Cairn as he approached, anxious. Even in the darkness, Cairn could see a faint light shimmering off of her golden hair. It was pulled back into a knot, the tail hanging over one shoulder. The Atlunam hunting clothes she wore outlined her slim figure. Vi-tonia’s attitude changed dramatically, however, when he told her what they wanted her to do. Iohn and Pak seemed relieved that their job would be a little easier, but the princess fumed.
Vi-tonia looked at Cairn, pleading for him to reconsider but remained silent. Cairn stared into her eyes once more and then turned away.
Cairn, true to his word, casually walked up to the barred gate. A small window opened within the door. A Belarnian guard challenged him as Cairn approached.
“What do you want? No one is admitted here. Hell,” the guard laughed, “no one would want to come in if they knew what happened inside.”
“Fool,” Cairn hissed at the guard. “The captain sent me to give you a message.”
“Captain? Our captain was hanged and gutted two weeks ago.” Cairn could see the man’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Cairn drove his sword through the small window. The blade cut through the man’s windpipe and severed his spine. Cairn would not let the man fall, the swordsman gradually pulled back keeping the guard standing even as he began to slump.
Cairn could hear the other man inside asking his partner if he was all right. Cairn paid no attention to him as he reached inside and undid the latch. The remaining guard figured out the situation at the same time that Cairn pushed one of the doors in. The guard watched the lifeless body of his companion fall to the ground as Cairn’s dark figure stepped into the courtyard. The guard tried to pull out his sword, but an arrow penetrated the soft leather of his vest. The force of the missile knocked him to the ground. The Belarnian tried to shout for help but Cairn was already upon him, cutting through his neck with one quick flick of his wrist.
Hin’cabo stepped through the door, notching another arrow to his bow, and scanned the courtyard for other guards.
Cairn rolled the dead guard over, moving with practiced ease, and secured the man’s hands to the back of his belt. He then rushed back to Kristian who was watching over the other guard’s body. The two of them hauled the body over to a small guard shack next to the gate and secured his hands to one of the posts.
“That’s it. I don’t have any more cord,” Cairn told Kristian.
Kristian nodded, “We’ll have to …”
The dead guard’s leg kicked out.
Kristian and Cairn jumped back, raising their swords defensively.
“He can’t get out of the knot,” Kristian said.
Mikhal came up then with Balhir. “I’m not taking any chances,” Mikhal said. They began hacking at the creature’s legs and arms until its thrashing ceased.
A shout from the barracks on the far side of the palace reached them, and Kristian knew the sound meant trouble.
“Balhir, we need to get those doors open!” Kristian shouted, pointing at the main doors to the palace. The Holtsman barked orders to some of his men; they rushed forward with axes drawn.
“We need to form a protective circle around the door until they get it open,” Mikhal suggested. Kristian nodded and let the cavalier handle their hasty defense while he watched the two Holtsmen work on the door.
Cairn noticed Vi-tonia and her personal guards standing among the other defenders. Her sword was out and she stood in a defensive stance, her Atlunam companions to either side of her. Cairn swore under his breath and walked over to Vi-tonia, pulling her out of the line.
The Atlunam princess stared at him defiantly for a moment and then looked at Iohn and Pak for support. They looked back and forth between the two for a second before stepping closer to Cairn. Vi-tonia’s mouth dropped open in surprise at their betrayal.
“You are not here to fight,” Cairn reminded her. “Stay in the middle of the group and take care of any attackers that get through the line.” Cairn did not wait to see her response or give her an opportunity to argue with him.
Balhir and another Holtsman rushed over to shut the gate at the inner wall, bracing the frame and lock with a few pikes, then joined the defensive circle around the palace entryway.
Maurin stood next to Vi-tonia and Kristian and spotted the Belarnians rushing toward them first. The healer shouted in warning.
Hin’cabo acted first, drawing back his bow and letting an arrow loose at the guards. One of them fell with a shaft jutting from his throat. Iohn and Pak joined him and soon two more Belarnians lay on the ground, but more were coming.
These men wore the insignia of Ferral’s Black Guards. They rushed the companions, cursing, some throwing javelins while others sprinted to protect their sorcerer-king. The Holtsmen met their charge with shields, axes, and heavy swords.
The Atlunam, side by side with the Holtsmen, decimated the Belarnians, launching arrow after arrow at the guards. Cairn reached in with his slender sword to jab at the faces of those Belarnians engaged in combat with their defensive line. Soon all of the Belarnians were dead or seriously wounded.
Then a sharp crack sounded as the brace behind the heavy wooden doors gave in, clearing the way for Kristian and his companions. They rushed in just as a squad of guards came running down the hallway toward them.
“They’re starting to change!” Maurin shouted in warning. Kristian looked back to see the dead in the inner courtyard starting to rise.
“Balhir pull your men inside,” Kristian ordered as Cairn and Mikhal met the next charge. The call came just as one of the Holtsmen shouted in pain. He fell to one knee holding onto a crossbow bolt that jutted from his thigh. Maurin moved over to him, forgetting about the rest of the fighting. He pulled out a bandage from his pack and started helping the wounded warrior.
“Pull him in, Maurin,” Kristian shouted. “We can’t protect him out there.” Iohn and Pak sprang forward to help the healer. They dragged the wounded Holtsman inside the ruined door just as the fighting started in the hallway.
Mikhal felt new energy rush into his exhausted body as he faced the Belarnians. It was the cavalier’s first real chance to exact vengeance for the deaths of his men, to face mortal men and not the demon that haunted Mikhal each night. The cavalier shouted “for Erand!” then attacked the first two guards. Cairn jumped in next to him, and together they made short work of the squad.
Cairn ducked under the swing of one broadsword and brought up his sword in a serpent-swift strike at his opponent’s unprotected throat. The guard reached out with panicky hands, trying to grab the blood spitting out. Cairn was already past him, choosing his next target.
In seconds, the five Belarnians lay dead and Kristian’s entire group was inside the palace.
“We have to hold these doors or we’ll never get back out,” Balhir warned.
“We don’t have enough men,” Mikhal countered. “We have to keep together while we search for Allisia or we’ll never survive. Besides, they’ll be getting back up in a few minutes. We can’t stay here.”
“He’s right,” Kristian agreed. “We have to stay together.”
“Where do we begin?” Mikhal asked.
Kristian tried to listen for any clues, but with Balhir’s men hacking at the dead coming at them from the courtyard, he could only hear the sounds of axes and swords cleaving flesh and bone.
“Kristian,” Mikhal pressed.
Frustrated, Kristian motioned for them to follow him down the main corridor. Balhir kept his men back to protect them against the dead, while Cairn and Mikhal stuck close to Kristian’s side.
They found the mad man’s throne room, and his cells full of creatures in the lower levels of the palace, but no trace of Allisia.
When they turned to go back up the stairs and leave the dungeons, Balhir shouted, “Wait! The way is blocked. Give us a few minutes.”
Cairn and Kristian tried to maneuver up the narrow stairs to help the Holtsmen but they were too far back.
One of Balhir’s men screamed. A dead Belarnian crawled forward and clawed at the man’s unprotected thigh. The warrior drove his spiked axe into the back of the thing’s skull but he had lowered his defenses. Two more creatures moved in and raked his face with their fingers. He screamed again, blinded, swinging his axe left and right in vengeance.
“Look out!” Balhir warned. It was too late. The wounded Holtsman hit one of his companions in the face, the blade cutting deep. The two Holtsmen fell as more dead mobbed them.
Balhir shouted in fury and rushed the dead, his remaining Holtsmen, Cairn, and Mikhal joining the fight. Together, they destroyed the creatures by hacking them to pieces, including Balhir’s two dead Holtsmen.
Kristian began to panic. He shouted as loud as he could for Allisia. “We have to find her, Mikhal. She’s in danger … I hear her calling for me.”
Mikhal tried to calm him, “we will find her. We will. You must calm down. Your shouting and raving is not going to help.” Kristian nodded, gasping for breath.
“You’re right.” Kristian clapped Mikhal on the shoulder and started off again.
“Here,” Mikhal said to get Kristian’s attention. Kristian grabbed the skin full of water Mikhal held out to him. They shared the water before they continued their search.
