He held out his hand to her. She took it and climbed to her feet. “Thank you,” she said, trying to avoid the angry stares of the men. “I know what it is I’m asking of you,” she said, for everyone’s benefit. “But it is nothing that I wouldn’t gladly do myself if permitted.”
He nodded then. “I know.” He walked off to get suited up in body armor. She watched helplessly as his men helped him, weighing him down with weaponry. One of the other soldiers began suiting up as well.
Sheldon glanced at him. “What do you think you’re doing, DeOrchis?”
“This isn’t a one-man job and you know it, sir,” the young man replied.
“I’m not willing to risk anyone else on this,” he said, hiding the pride in his voice.
“Someone’s gotta watch your back,” DeOrchis said, pulling on the last of his gear.
Vaush watched the exchange and felt a pang of guilt. He could easily have sedated her and forced her on to Novoxos. Somehow, she’d struck a chord with this man. Silently, she prayed they would all make it back safely.
“Lepkin, you’re in charge. No matter what happens, when the transport arrives, you get her out of here. Understood?”
Lepkin nodded reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”
He and DeOrchis headed for the door. The lock disengaged allowing DeOrchis to open it. “All right, men.” Sheldon spared one last glance at Vaush and then slipped out into the darkness.
CHAPTER 61
Even before the door flew open, Comron sensed Crausin’s presence and his frantic state. His awareness became particularly acute and time seemed to slow down as Crausin stormed toward him. As he approached, Comron studied Crausin in minutia—the glossy and tired red eyes, the subtle flare of his nostrils, the firm set of his mouth, his finger-combed hair, and unshaven face. His usually crisp military uniform showed heavy creases and the top button at his neck was left open. By Crausin’s signature grooming standards, he was a shameful mess, which meant the inevitable descent into madness had begun.
As Crausin raised his hand in what seemed to be painstakingly slow motion, Comron attempted to defend himself, snapping two of the metal restraints on his right arm. Stunned at this development, Comron realized that he was fully capable of extricating himself from this situation. But he couldn’t tip his hand just yet; he had to time his escape perfectly.
As Crausin’s arm swung down, Comron braced himself for the impact. Time finally caught up with itself, slamming him back in the moment as his head snapped to the side under the blow. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth although the pain barely registered.
“You fucking little shite!” Crausin yelled and struck him again. “I ought to leave you to that animal to be butchered for what you’ve done. Because of you, Nethic has fallen under attack and as soon as Thalonius finishes slicing that bitch to pieces he’s coming to finish what Bastionli started. Nethic will fall all because you had a hard-on for Ti-Larosian slit!”
Despite Crausin’s blustering, Comron could suddenly see deep into his innermost being, clear to Crausin’s true motives and primordial fears. It was as if Crausin were suddenly an open book for Comron to read effortlessly. The man was genuinely terrified for Nethic, but even more so, he was terrified of losing Comron.
“That’s not going to happen, Crausin. We will save Nethic, and I’m never going to abandon you.”
For a brief moment, Crausin appeared completely caught off guard and vulnerable, as if a part of him wanted to cry out and beg Comron to return home. But then his jaw clenched, and he gave Comron a hard look that told him he couldn’t be so easily assuaged.
“When we return to Nethic, everything is going to be different,” Crausin said through gritted teeth. “First, we will quell Thalonius’ wrath by sending a third of our fleet to help hunt down that bitch and then we’re going to convince him further with your marriage to Spira. We’ll prove to him once and for all that House Van Laven has no designs on the imperial throne.”
Comron shuddered at the revolting prospect of exchanging vows with Spira. Thank providence he was already married to Vaush and any subsequent marriage he was forced into would be rendered void by it. Still, he had to try to prevent it at all cost.
“Vaush Hrollaugr has a powerful ally who means to see her to the throne. If they succeed, not only will Nethic survive, it will thrive.”
“Stupid, mule-headed fool,” Crausin said, his face twisting with rank hatred at the mention of Vaush’s name. “She’s flying right into a trap. Thalonius has enlisted the aid of Nostrom and Warbrenger to cut her down. It will be an unprecedented slaughter. That same armada of warships will then turn on Nethic unless you do your duty and marry Spira. Bastionlis’ attack has provided us with a plausible excuse for delaying the wedding. But Thalonius won’t be so easily deterred. Nothing short of your marriage will halt his campaign to destroy us.”
“Perhaps you understate these allies of hers. After all, with their aid, Vaush has managed to elude the establishment forces thus far.”
Time slowed once again as Crausin’s hand shot out in suspended animation, moving toward Comron’s neck. Two more of the metal fasteners snapped off his left arm and his right leg. But Crausin was too enraged to notice.
Comron felt Crausin’s hand squeeze around his throat and watched in alarm as Crausin produced an ornate, red handled dagger. Comron recognized it as the same one Crausin’s mother had used to slice her wrist open when Crausin was a mere boy.
“Mention that bitch’s name one more time and I swear I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out!” He placed the tip of the blade at the corner of Comron’s right eye.
As if the glazed look of delirium wasn’t enough, Comron read Crausin’s emotions and knew that he fully intended to carry out that threat if provoked. Still the fundamental fear remained and Crausin was beyond desperate to rob Comron of his freedom and to keep him forever behind the bars of his gilded cage. If leaving Comron blind and mutilated would serve that purpose, so be it.
“Your fears are unwarranted, Crausin,” Comron spoke calmly as if there wasn’t a sharp blade at his eye or Crausin’s strangle hold on his throat. “I’d never abandon you. You’re my oath brother. We’ve made an oath of allegiance to one another, and I will honor it all the days of my life.”
“Liar!” Crausin pressed the blade against tender flesh. “You think I don’t know you’d go running after her the minute I turned my back. Not a fucking chance, Comron. After your wedding, you will never leave Castle Northridge again.”
Comron held his gaze, “So, I’ll be a prisoner there, just as you were all those years. How well you follow in your father’s footsteps. Well done, Edred.”
Crausin shook him by the neck, and a bit of blood trickled from the edge of Comron’s eye. “Had I been a treasonous lout, I would have deserved even worse!”
Crausin released Comron with a shove. “Enough of this,” he said and headed toward the door to call the guards in to take Comron into custody.
They were the elite contingent of the duke’s guard, all clad in body armor and carrying high-powered blast rifles. Each of them stood at least as tall as Comron and was highly trained in the art of lethal combat. He could have handled two or three with some effort, but he counted six of them. Obviously, Crausin didn’t want to leave the matter of their security to chance.
As they approached, Comron’s heart rate accelerated and time seemed to stretch out before him. With minimal effort, he snapped the remaining metal restraints from his arms and legs. Everything would come down to this moment. The next few seconds would determine whether he’d spend the rest of his life with Vaush or imprisoned in Castle Northridge.
When the first one reached out to release the bindings, his eyes widened as he realized they’d already been broken. Before he could sound an alarm, Comron’s arm shot out. He punched the man with enough strength to send him sprawling backward into the two guards nearest him. Mayhem ensued as Comron leapt up out of the chair and fell upon another guard. Before th
e man could respond, Comron secured his blast rifle and fired on two other guards scrambling for their weapons.
When one jumped him from behind, Comron rammed his elbow back and heard the crack of the man’s armor and his ribs. The other tried to wrestle back his rifle from Comron, but instead, Comron swung it upward catching him on the chin and snapping his head back. The last one tried to fire on Comron but he dropped to the ground with blinding speed, grabbed a knife sheathed on one of the fallen guard’s legs and stabbed the shooter in the thigh. When the man collapsed next to him, Comron drew the blade across his throat.
Crausin stood with mouth gaping, unable to form a word regarding the astounding spectacle he had just beheld.
Comron approached him and spoke calmly. “I’m not going back to Nethic … not yet.” In that moment, he felt the power shift from father to son. Never again would Crausin command him or use his authority to bend Comron to his will. Still, Comron wouldn’t abandon him, there was the matter of the oath but, more importantly, there was the matter of Crausin’s sanity. If Comron left him now, Crausin’s descent into madness would be complete and Nethic’s great shame would be exposed for the whole world to see. This left him with only two choices and, since the notion of patricide didn’t sit well with him, he made his decision.
“I’m going after Vaush, and you’re coming with me,” he said in a tone that brokered no discussion.
“W-what has happened to you?” Crausin said still in shock. “The way you moved … so fast. And your skin, the poisoned lesions? Only a highly skilled specialist could have repaired the damage so perfectly.”
Ignoring him, Comron walked toward the door and listened. “How many of Recaban’s men are out there?”
Crausin was at his side staring at him. Comron could feel him trying to probe his mind. He slammed the mental door in his face and Crausin staggered back. “What the hell is going on?”
Instinctively, he knew better than to share the truth about the Murkudahl essence with Crausin. It was his and Vaush’s secret alone, and he intended to keep it that way.
“Now is not the time,” he replied. “Now how many are out there?”
“I don’t know. Fifteen, maybe twenty.”
“Damn it.” Dispensing with the six Duke’s guards had been easy enough, but twenty armed men. How could he take them all while dragging Crausin along with him? He raked his hands through his hair as he tried to formulate a plan.
They both turned at the sudden commotion going on outside. All the yelling and shooting made Comron wonder if Thalonius had sent his men after him for interrogation. His body tensed as he prepared himself for the imminent attack. Endeavoring to size up the enemy, he eased the door open to peer outside and was stunned by what he saw.
CHAPTER 62
“How have I surrounded myself with such towering incompetence?” Thalonius ranted as he strode down the great hall flanked by his closest advisors. “They had her cornered, yet this band of riffraff stole her right from beneath their noses!”
“Your Majesty, it was a highly trained band of mercenaries—”
“Tell me something I haven’t already heard before,” Thalonius snapped. “Whom do they work for? Where did they come from?”
“There was a time when your father’s troops moved that way. I suspect it is someone with a very strong military background, based upon the precision and discipline with which they moved,” said his war counselor.
Thalonius looked at the gray, bristle-haired man. “You think that my army is defecting to the usurper’s side?”
“No, Your Grace,” he answered. “The members of your high command are fiercely loyal to you.”
“Fierce loyalty?” Thalonius pressed. “That’s the reason you believe they couldn’t be involved?”
“No, my lord,” said the counselor. “It’s because no one in your current regime trains their men to move the way those men did.” The commerce advisor was only pointing out what the war advisor failed to say. “There once was a time when the imperial troops inspired well-earned fear and respect. But now they have grown bloated and lazy, relying on their old reputation to maintain control throughout the system.”
Thalonius and his entourage ascended the main stairway of the Lion’s Palace. “My father’s day was a different time altogether. It was necessary for him to rule with an iron rod. In more peaceful times, one reaches for the staff for more gentle shepherding.”
“But others, namely house Dredfort, have filled the void. There are rumors that their military rivals the imperial forces.”
Thalonius turned to him. “You don’t think that Dredfort’s behind this, do you?”
“No, Your Grace. When it comes to long-term strategy, Dredfort is slow, deliberate, and plodding. This news of the girl sprang up only a week ago. They would produce a plan of action only after months of debate and introspection.”
“True, Jerand,” Thalonius conceded. “But they’ve been conspiring for our downfall for some time. They could be duly motivated by the prospect of marrying one of their brood to the girl if she were to reach the throne.”
“But, Sire, have they the gall to take such an initiative?” Jerand asked as they reached the landing. “Granted they would surely rush to throw one of their sons at her if she was to take the throne, but I cannot believe Dredfort is behind this bold move.”
Raising his hands, Thalonius shouted, “Then who is aiding the girl?”
The war advisor stepped up. “My lord, it will matter little once we throw the full fire power of the imperial military forces at her. We will cut her down and remove the threat once and for all.”
Thalonius stopped, causing his whole party to jumble together. “Pray that you do.” He turned to look at each of them. “Because if you fail and I lose my throne, I will have each and every one of your thick heads on a spike!”
CHAPTER 63
A small assault force was tearing through the Recaban’s hired hands like they were nothing. The precision and ferocity of the attack was mesmerizing. Projectiles crisscrossed the corridor, but the two-man team remained moving targets, all the while firing their weapons and leaping up to mortally strike down the enemy. In under a minute, there was no one left standing but the two strangers outfitted in full combat armor and heavy blast rifles. Awed, Comron wondered at their identity. They sure as hell weren’t Thalonius’ fighters.
Abruptly, he shut the door, locking it, unsure as to the stranger’s intentions. Just as he did, they called out to him. “Lord Comron Van Laven, we mean you no harm.”
Comron discerned no duplicity in their tone, but still caution was warranted. “Who are you?” He stood aside from the door in case they decided to shoot through it.
“We’ve been sent by Her Grace, the Honored Lady of Ti-Laros, to rescue you.”
Instantly, he sensed the truth of their words. The allies have consented to Vaush’s demand to come for me. Perhaps there is hope for an alliance after all.
He wanted to say as much to Crausin but he was too eager to go to Vaush and speak to the parties who’d taken her. He opened the door and walked out.
“Where is Vaush?” he asked, staring back at his reflection in their face visors. “Is she all right?”
“She’s safe with my men and doing quite well,” answered the taller one.
“Cap’n, we’re down to fifty-seven minutes. The commute alone will take forty-five of that,” said the other one, before hoisting a nasty looking blast rifle. He trained it on Crausin and a green light appeared on Crausin’s brow. “Is this one a problem?”
Comron moved between Crausin and the rifle’s line of sight. “I suggest you point that beast elsewhere.”
“Stand down, DeOrchis,” the captain said and DeOrchis promptly lowered his weapon. “We’re here for you. Let’s go.”
“I’ll go, but he’s coming with us,” he said hitching a thumb back at Crausin.
“I’m not going on this suicide mission,” Crausin staunchly replied.
C
omron spun to face him. “I could always have them shoot you.” He heard DeOrchis hoist his weapon. “Stand down, DeOrchis,” he said over his shoulder.
“We need to move, Van Laven,” the captain stated.
“One second.” Comron grabbed Crausin’s arm and hustled him over to the side. “You owe me this.”
“What I owe you is a spot in front of a firing squad.”
“You’re my oath brother, sworn to walk by my side in my darkest hour. It doesn’t get much darker than this.”
“Someone has to think of Nethic. This is treason.”
“You have to trust me. If Vaush takes the imperial throne, Nethic rises with her.”
“Captain Yaeger, we’re running out of time,” DeOrchis said.
“This is me not abandoning you,” Comron said in a lower voice. “If you want my allegiance as a brother then earn it! Not by imprisoning me but by giving me yours. Come with me, Crausin.”
As Comron anticipated, the suggestion pulled at the very heart of their bond and Crausin was duly moved. “Comron, if we fail—”
Comron turned to Yaeger. “We’re ready to go.”
Behind his masked face, Yaeger looked from Comron to Crausin. “We can’t afford any trouble out there.”
“You won’t have any trouble from us,” Comron said, pushing passed them with Crausin in tow. “Let’s go.”
Recovering the lead, Yaeger led them into a stairwell. He tapped the side of his helmet, engaging infrared receptors. DeOrchis did the same while looking up.
“We’re clear. Let’s go,” Yaeger said.
Comron and Crausin followed them as they hurried down the stairs. “Are you with the imperial army?” Comron asked, wondering if there were still some powerful factions loyal to the late emperor’s will.
Yaeger kept moving. “No, not exactly.”
This disturbed Comron. Who else could possibly be orchestrating their escape? What did these people hope to gain by helping Vaush?