“Yes, I thought I just explained that,” he said, staring at the ceiling like there was something interesting there. I looked up, but saw nothing. I had assumed that his eccentric manner had been an affectation, but now I wasn’t sure. “It would have been perfect too, if you had been along. But you had to be a bookworm, rather than a hunter. It would have made things much easier if you had all died at once. This business has been entirely too messy. Some of the nobility will certainly be suspicious. However, history is written by the victors, as they say. Once we are in place with Grimwulf as a legitimate figure head and the army supporting us, no one will question what happened here too deeply.”
“I suppose you intend to kill me then.”
“In time. It will ensure my Lord’s favor. Of all who fought against him, Coenbrand Davin’s name is most hated. It is fitting that his line should be expunged before Garegon’s return. But death can take many forms. If you aid me, I promise that your death will be quick and without pain. If you won’t or can’t help me—well, I shall be obliged to persuade you.” He looked happy about the prospect.
“What do you want from me?”
“Either of you can help me. Actually, I think Brin may be of more use. Brin, I’ve always been quite fond of you, you know.”
“I liked your hat,” Brin said. “But I don’t care much for your recent behavior.”
“Well then dear, hopefully you can help me and we can be friends again. You know the old castle better than anyone. There is something that I need to find that I believe is here, a sword.”
“There are lots of swords in the castle,” Brin said. “You can have your pick. Take Dexter’s, he can’t use it very well anyway.”
“I may, but that isn’t the sword I need. I believe you both already know the sword for which I am looking.”
“We do,” I said. “You’re looking for Harbinger, King Coenbrand’s sword. “It isn’t here.”
“No? Where is it?”
“It’s in Earmund Castle. It’s been hidden there for years—safe and secure.”
Doctor Ahem looked at me hard. He stared up at the ceiling and sighed.
“Is he lying?” he said, but whether to Brin or some imaginary partner, I could not tell. “Mmm. Yes. I think he’s lying.”
Doctor Ahem stood up and walked to me. He peeled back my fingers, one at a time from around my sword and removed it from my hand. He moved it back and forth so that it caught the light of Brin’s gem, apparently mesmerized by it.
“We didn’t have time to develop a close professional relationship, so you may not know that I am quite an accomplished surgeon. This is a crude instrument, not like the exquisite blades in the infirmary—however, it will have to do.
“Brin, I’ve noticed that you and Dexter have become rather good friends. Am I right in assuming that you would find it distasteful to watch me remove his fingers, one at a time, with this sword? You would? Good. Then perhaps you will find yourself sufficiently motivated to help me.”
He placed the sword tightly against the skin of the little finger of my right hand and looked at Brin expectantly. I gritted my teeth, determined not to give him any satisfaction.
“I will count to three, and then I will remove the king’s finger.”
“It won’t be necessary; I know where the sword is,” said Brin. She sounded so forlorn about her admission that I didn’t know whether to believe or not. I knew she was lying, but she was quite good at it, better than I was.
“Where, child?”
“I’m not sure where we are now. I can get there from the Archmage’s lounge. You know where I mean, don’t you?”
“Indeed, I knew that there was something there when I saw all of the fresh footprints. I will take you there and you will show me where the sword is.”
“Okay, just don’t hurt Dexter.”
“If you don’t cooperate, I shall be forced to hurt him very badly and it will be your fault.”
Doctor Ahem began to mutter an incantation and his eyes half-closed in concentration. Chains appeared around our necks and manacles appeared around our wrists, tightening so that they were held close together. Holding the other end of the chain around our necks like a leash, Doctor Ahem went behind us.
“Walk through that door,” he said pointing to one of two doors in the room with my short sword.
We started forward. I had no idea how far the lounge was from here, but our time was limited. That Doctor Ahem had never made into the library and clearly had no idea what lay beyond the mirror was an advantage, but one I had no idea how to use. Even with that slight advantage on my side, every other advantage was held by the doctor. This was endgame and checkmate seemed inevitable. However, I would not resign, no matter what.
****
Horace of Scrytch was unhappy. His quarters were too small and he was being forced to share them with members of his retinue. The food in the north hall was entirely inadequate, being mostly dry rations: hardtack, dried meat, cheese and such. He had a very sensitive stomach and could not eat such course fare without experiencing digestive problems that would be inconvenient at best.
He had gone to the chief steward, Tayu, who was supposed to be in charge, though she had done nothing for him. When he had gone to her a third time, she had actually snapped at him, calling him a ‘whiney, little pimple,’ and told him that he would get the same treatment as everyone else. As if that made sense—there were blacksmiths, maids, and common laborers in the hall with them. He had tried to complain to the Duchess of Albemarle, but Belle de Venie seemed to be in and out of fainting spells and, when she had been conscious, she had actually treated him like someone beneath her. Horace found himself forced to complain to the various courtiers who lived at the Pozzelby Castle. These were people of noble blood, but tended to be the sons and daughters of the nobility, not yet come into their own. Horace had thought that they would be grateful to be seen talking to someone of his station. At one point, he had the second son of the Earl of Goldenshire and the third son of the Duke of Quintley cornered in the rear of the hall, running through his list of complaints. Even these two failed to provide Horace with the proper commiseration. He had walked away unsatisfied.
It grew uncomfortably hot inside of the hall and the smells of the commoners were more than his delicate olfactory sense could manage. He had to get out. There had to be some way. He had some gold; he would bribe his way out of this mess if need be. So far, Horace of Scrytch was quite unhappy with the way the new king was running things.
The hall had a back door to the kitchens. Even though they were being served rations, the kitchen staff was in the kitchen handling the service. None of them said anything to the earl as he slinked through the kitchen and out the side door into the empty hallway. Earl Horace had no idea where a safe exit might be. His plan was simply to move forward and see what he discovered.
He came to a post with about ten guardsmen on duty. A sergeant stopped him.
“Milord, what are you doing here? It isn’t safe. We’ve just received word that the enemy has breached our first line and the guard is having to pull back,” the sergeant said. “You shouldn’t be out wandering.”
Horace decided to try a bluff.
“Sergeant, I am on the king’s business and cannot be hindered. I need for you to tell me the closest way to get safely out of the castle. That is an order.”
Horace was good at blustering about and bullying his own soldiers at home, men who listened to what he said because he paid them to do so. This soldier, however, did not work for the earl. Furthermore, he knew that King Dexter had not warmed to Horace and the sergeant thought it was unlikely that Dexter had entrusted any sort of mission to him. Indeed, there had come to the sergeant’s post a troubling rumor that the king was missing, but in the confusion of battle who could say. But even though the sergeant knew Dexter had not seemed to like the earl much, Horace was Brin’s father, an
d Dexter liked Brin very much—based on all of that, the sergeant concluded that it would probably not be a good career move to let the earl through.
“I’m sorry, Milord. My orders are very clear; no civilians are to come through. I suggest you head back to the north hall where it is safer.”
Horace wasn’t through though.
“Sergeant, speak with me over here please,” he said indicating a place in the hall out of earshot and line of sight of the rest of the squad.
The sergeant, a tall, older man, sighed inwardly and complied.
“Sergeant,” Horace began, using a warm, low tone. “We are both men of the world you and I. And in my experiences I have always found that with a little negotiation everyone can be satisfied. I know you realize that I am not on the king’s business. It is my own business that is so pressing. Just before this unfortunate fighting, I had received word that my wife was very ill, so you see it is imperative that I get out of the castle.”
The sergeant knew that Brin’s mother was dead. He felt sorry for the strange little girl and sometimes brought her hard butterscotch candies from Dunlevy. He could not remember if she had ever said that her father remarried, so he said nothing. In fact, Horace had remarried, but he had received no such message, and at that very moment his wife—an older woman who was as put off by Brin as her father—was getting a pedicure and planning to take a mineral bath in a hot spring immediately thereafter.
“Sergeant, do you have a family?” the earl asked.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Then you know how important it is to a man to take proper care of his family. I’ve got five gold crowns here. They’re yours if you let me pass and help me get out of the castle. It doesn’t have to be you personally, just assign two of you men to help me. A man could do a lot for his family with five crowns.”
The sergeant paused a moment before answering, not because he was tempted, but because he was trying to keep the anger out of his voice.
“Sir, I am afraid I must decline. I’ll need for you to return to the north hall immediately,” he said.
“You’re right, five crowns is hardly enough for a man of your stature. I’ll double it. A sergeant of the guard in Scrytch would take more than two years to make so much,” Horace said. When he saw that the guardsman wasn’t going for it, he continued, “Ah but I’m sure that a sergeant in the royal guard is paid better than that. Fifteen, it’s all I have. Help me get out of here and it’s yours.”
“Milord, go back to the north hall now. If not, I will assign you two of my men, only they will be escorting you to the hall, not helping you flee. And Earl Horace, with respect, it rings hollow hearing you talk about family, when you have family here in Pozzelby Castle that you seem to do your best to ignore.”
“Why, I never! Very well, Sergeant. I will return to the hall, but if we live through the day, which I doubt we will, I will not forget your lack of courtesy. Good day!”
Horace stormed off, angry, but happy to at least be away before the sergeant decided to go ahead and have some of his men take him back to the hall—that would be no good. He decided to go west and try to get out of the castle on that side. But his sense of direction was so poor that he had no idea which way west was. He worked his way deeper and deeper into the castle, until the corridor that he was following ended in a thick, reinforced, iron door. The door was locked and barred, but the locks were all on his side and he was able to get them open. Convinced that he was going in the right direction, Horace pulled on the door as hard as he could. Its hinges grated in protest, but the door slowly opened. It was dark beyond and dusty, so the earl took a torch from the wall. He realized that this was a closed portion of the castle, but he believed that he was very close to the western edge of the structure and so would not be in the empty area for long. Besides, he was probably safer hiding in there than waiting for an uncertain fate in the north hall.
Drawing his sword, the blade of which was slightly rusty from lack of use and lack of care, Horace stepped into the darkness.
****
On the front line Layred Vu and Captain Talon were desperately urging the guard to hold the second ring of defense. Layred Vu had been impressed and dismayed at how quickly Tabor Till’s army had overrun their first position. The Gasparion had created the first cracks in the castle’s defenses. Thankfully, those silver birds had defeated the Gasparion. But the enemy’s precise assault on key area with catapults, trebuchet, and onagers launching a flaming payload further opened up the defenses. By the time Tabor Till, Garris Stone, Grimwulf, or whoever was in command gave the order to advance, the castle guard were already broken and in disarray in several places. The General Till’s men were efficient and disciplined, though they seemed not to be wholly committed to attacking the royal palace of their own liege. In contrast, the Twelve Sect Order forces fought like men possessed. Even though there were differences in the types of those forces: hunters, knights, and a numerous, motley-looking mob that looked like diseased beggars, thieves, and worse—Layred Vu assumed that they were from different sects—to a one they fought with rare fury and an utter lack of fear.
Now almost as quickly, they were threatening to breach the second line. Layred Vu wondered what time it was. It felt like they had been fighting all day, but if the castellan had been able to see the sun, he would have realized that it was barely noon. The interior defensive rings had the advantage of being proof against siege weapons simply because of their interior positions. At the same time, some of the defender’s weapons were removed as well—one could not pour molten lead on an attacker when they were already inside of the castle. Instead, the defenders made do with firing crossbows through arrow slots, collapsing floors and ceilings with the assistance of counter balances, and defending with long spears and other pole mounted arms through slots in the doors and walls.
For a short time, Layred Vu and Captain Talon had both been optimistic that they would hold the second line. The paths of attack were more narrow, somewhat negating the enemy’s numerical superiority. But then Garris Stone had entered the castle to personally oversee his force’s assault. The fearless Twelve Sect Order troops, became like berserkers, taking grievous wounds and fighting on well after most men would have fallen. General Stone had taken part in the fighting too. Unlike his men, he did not come across as fanatical or berserk. Instead, he seemed calm and somewhat bored. He attacked in what looked like a lackadaisical, disinterested manner, but his attacks were absolutely devastating. Men fell with every swing of his blade; some were cut completely in twain. Layred Vu watched as General Stone separated one guardsman from his head and then cut another almost in two long ways, from shoulder to crotch, with a sword that was as black as his armor.
Not far to his right, the castellan heard the captain of the guard calling on his forces to withdraw to the next line. He saw Garris Stone look in Talon’s direction. The massive, black warrior cut a swath through the men that were between him and Talon as easy as if he was threshing wheat. Layred Vu ran that way, trying to squeeze through the guardsmen who were busy retreating in the other direction, while trying to get some of them to help by yelling, “Protect the captain! Protect the captain!”
Talon saw Stone coming and waved him on. General Stone cut at Talon with a blow that looked deceptively slow and irresistible. Somehow, Talon blocked the blow, his long sword wielded with both hands, and was thrown back several feet into a wall. Layred Vu reached Garris Stone then and cut at the warrior’s helmet. It was like hitting granite and the force of the blow vibrated up Layred Vu’s sword, but did not seem to affect General Stone at all.
A few of the guardsmen noticed what was happening and stopped their retreat to help as well. Three of them leapt on Stone and tried to bear him to the ground. They might as well have been trying to wrestle a mountain to the ground. Stone barely shrugged and sent all three men flying. Captain Talon had recovered and was trying to stab at t
he seams in General Stone’s jet-colored armor. A few thrusts seemed to slip through, but if Garris Stone took any injury he showed no sign. Layred Vu hacked away at Stone’s back, while two guardsmen tried to help in any way they could. The black clad knight made a great, sweeping cut. Layred Vu jumped back just in time to avoid it. The guard next to him was not as lucky—Stone’s blade cut through the side of his breastplate and nearly tore him in half.
Now most of the castle guards were gone, having retreated to the next line of defense, and the enemy forces were regrouping. If Captain Talon and the others did not retreat then they would be cut off. In the direction of the third defensive line, one of the heavy doors opened. From inside, Myrick, Ardbeg, Erwin, and a half dozen guardsmen rushed out. They cut a path through the enemy troops that were threatening to cut off the retreat of their fellows.
“Come on!” Myrick shouted.
“Fall back,” Layred Vu told the guardsmen who were nearby while backing away from General Stone.
The general continued to advance on them, not hurrying, but at a casual, unstoppable pace. The defenders stayed out of his reach. They nearly made it back to the door when General Stone lowered his black sword and pointed it at the retreating group. A burst of dark energy shot out of the tip and struck Captain Talon in the chest. He screamed and staggered. Ardbeg caught him and pulled him through the door. When everyone was through, the defenders slammed it shut and barred it, preparing to defend anew.
“How is Talon?” Myrick asked.
“Alive,” said Ardbeg. “But just barely. He’s unconscious, pale, and his breathing is shallow. He looks bad.”
Layred Vu noted that Myrick and Ardbeg both showed signs of injury themselves—Myrick appeared to have a fairly deep cut across his left thigh and blood on his shoulder, while Ardbeg was cut across his forehead and forearm. Like all of them, they had lots more blood on them that wasn’t theirs.
“What happened to you?” Layred Vu asked Myrick. “I haven’t seen you since the battle began.”
“We were caught in the Sunrise Tower at the start of the battle and were cut off. A group of Till’s men breached near us, saw Dexter, and chased us. Ardbeg and I fought them off long enough to give Dexter and the others time to escape into one of Brin’s hidden passages. There were even more than we could handle though and we had to flee ourselves. It has taken us this long to get back to here. I guess I don’t need to ask how the battle goes,” Myrick said.