The werewolves stormed the courtyard, surprising the thralls who stood guard at the estate’s front gates. The chieftain led their charge, rushing across the open field with all haste toward the line of gubernatorial guards who stood watch at the mansion’s entrance. The guards raised their rifles in unison and fired, sending a barrage of lead bullets through the air. Wolves faltered and fell around Kidnip. She offered them a sympathetic glance over her shoulder, but their injuries merely fueled her anger.
With long strides, she covered the last of the distance as the guards reloaded their rifles. She crashed her massive bulk into their line, tossing aside the significantly smaller men. The rest of the werewolves reached the guards, and the previously organized combat descended into chaos.
Far below the battle, Simon and Luthor reached the tunnels, which branched into a multitude of directions so close to the estate. Luthor scratched his head inquisitively as he perused the many tunnels, trying to find landmarks that would seem remotely familiar.
Simon, in contrast, wasted no time at all turning toward one of the smaller branches. He entered the tunnel without hesitation, despite its relative gloom compared to the more mainstream thoroughfares.
“It’s here,” the Inquisitor remarked.
“How can you be sure?” Luthor asked as he hurried to keep pace with his mentor. “They all look the same.”
Simon smiled knowingly. “When am I ever not sure? It helps that I have an impeccable sense of direction.”
Luthor stopped and stood at the entryway to the darker tunnel. “You once got lost while attending a formal dinner invitation only a few blocks from your house. I had to roam the streets of Callifax just to find you.”
Simon ran his hand along the wall as he continued walking. “In my defense, I had been drinking heavily that night.” He paused and turned toward his companion, flashing a broad smile. “Regardless, the passage is right here.”
Simon stepped around a nearly invisible corner and disappeared from sight. Luthor sighed and rushed after the man, lest he invade the estate alone.
The tunnel was very familiar, narrow and dark as it led to the secret doorway into the estate. After a brisk walk down the passage, it ended in a nearly perfect stone edifice, one that blended seamlessly into the surrounding rock walls.
“The entrance is here somewhere,” Simon remarked quietly. “Help me find the release lever.”
Luthor stepped beside his friend and felt along the rough wall. “This would be far easier if the access on this side was as obvious as the wall sconce was within the fencing room.”
“When are we ever so lucky, Luthor?”
Luthor was forced to shrug in agreement. Simon’s hands moved impossibly quick as he searched every protruding stone and pressed every indention along his part of the wall. The dead end appeared as crudely worked stone, which left the face of the wall coarse and rough. There were far too many individual indentations.
“We don’t have time for this,” Simon swore as he struck the wall with his open hand. “Our diversion on the surface will only last so long. We need to find our way inside!”
Luthor glanced at his infuriated friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sir, step away for a second and take a breath. Sometimes, situations like these require space and perspective, perspective you just can’t attain while staring at the same unchanging wall.”
Simon sighed but nodded. He walked away, throwing his hands above his head.
Luthor glanced quickly over his shoulder to ensure Simon’s back was turned. The apothecary touched the frame of his glasses and a soft green light poured over the lens. Immediately, an innocuous stone by Luthor’s right hand glowed with an unearthly light. Reaching down, he pressed the stone and a series of clicks sounded from behind the false wall.
“What did you do?” Simon asked as he rushed back to the secret entrance.
Luthor lowered his hand and the light faded from his glasses. “I told you, sir, it’s all about perspective. I found it much easier to peruse the wall without your constant complaining.”
Simon patted Luthor on the back. “Remind me to berate you for your obvious lack of respect later.”
The Inquisitor placed his hands on the wall and pushed. The stone wall, which had seemed so solid and heavy moments before, swung easily aside on well-worn hinges.
The dark tunnel was flooded with light as the door opened to the wide, square fencing room. The electric lamps burned brightly across the ceiling and within sconces across the walls, illuminating the six men who stood in the center of the broad dueling mat.
Simon paused at the doorway, warily eying the assortment of swords held in the men’s hands. “It appears that Gideon Dosett shrewdly anticipated this course of action.”
The two men stepped through the doorway and spread apart, granting both the space necessary to draw their weapons. Simon pulled his saber from its sheath, as Luthor released the narrow blade concealed within his cane. Only after they were in position did Simon recognize the man standing at the forefront of their adversaries.
“Mr. Mulvane,” the Inquisitor said. “It’s been some time since last we met.”
The governor’s assistant nodded slowly. “Sadly, this will be the last time you and I meet, Inquisitor. Truth be told, I never much cared for you. You’re far too arrogant a man.”
“I look forward to making you regret those words,” Simon replied.
Mulvane chortled and glanced at the five swordsmen standing behind him. “Those are brave words when you are so clearly at the disadvantage.”
“I agree that the fight is far from fair, but we hardly have time for you to call for more reinforcements.”
Simon could see the anger blaze in Patrick Mulvane’s eyes at his blatant mocking. Though Mulvane was correct that Simon portrayed arrogance, it was mostly for show, as a way to unnerve his opponent. An angry opponent was a careless opponent and easily defeated.
“I look forward to presenting your head to our master,” Patrick hissed.
He rushed across the room, the other guards in tow. Simon sidestepped Patrick’s charge and drove his shoulder into the man as he passed, sending the assistant sprawling to the ground. He turned his attention instead to the two other guards who rushed at him.
From his periphery, Simon could see Luthor similarly detained. The apothecary removed his bowler cap and threw it into the face of one of the guards, distracting him as Luthor parried the first swing from one of the remaining swordsmen.
The two men before Simon were skilled at swordplay but clearly faltered when fighting as a team. As one thrust, the other hesitated for fear of striking his partner. The man’s hesitation created openings that Simon exploited; the Inquisitor drove first his knee into the man’s exposed hip before following with an elbow to the side of the man’s head. The guard crumpled, but Simon had little time to savor his victory before he had to parry another frustrated swing from the other swordsman.
Though disoriented, Mulvane quickly regained his feet as well. Simon backed away from the two men, giving himself more room to maneuver. Patrick placed his hand on the guard’s back, practically shoving him forward to engage the Inquisitor. The man staggered, his swing coming without finesse. Simon blocked it, their blades ringing as metal struck metal. Simon slid his sword downward until their hilts struck one another. He grabbed the swordsman’s wrist to keep him from pulling away before rearing back and slamming his forehead into the guard’s nose. He rocked backward as Simon released the man’s sword. The Inquisitor followed with a kick to the man’s chest, which sent him sprawling onto the mat.
Patrick Mulvane watched the guard fall before hesitantly stepping backward. Simon angled his blade toward the governor’s assistant, pointing the tip of his sword toward the slowly retreating man.
Luthor stepped behind Patrick and struck the man across the neck with the haft of his cane. Mulvane lurched in surprise and stumbled forward. His feet tangled over one another and he tumbled forward far quicker t
han Simon could anticipate. The assistant struck the tip of Simon’s saber and slid painfully down the length of the blade. As he slowly came to a stop and his knees buckled, he looked up pleadingly into Simon’s surprised face.
Before Simon could respond, Patrick’s eyes fluttered closed and he slumped heavily, his ability to remain upright possible only by the support of the sword piercing his chest.
The Inquisitor turned his blade, and Mulvane’s body slid free before collapsing limply to the ground.
“Sir, I didn’t—” Luthor began.
“Duck!” Simon yelled as one of the guards regained his feet behind the apothecary.
Luthor immediately dropped to his knees and Simon flung his sword like a projectile, striking the guard in the chest and driving him to the ground. The swordsman lay unmoving, the hilt of Simon’s saber protruding skyward from where it had pierced the man.
Luthor slowly stood and looked behind him. “I thought you were hesitant to kill those enthralled by the demon.”
Simon knelt beside Patrick’s body as he felt for a pulse that was no longer there. “I was and still am. However, you were right before and though I was loathed to admit it, sometimes the ends truly do justify the means. When we kill Gideon Dosett, and trust that we shall, at least some small part of these two men’s deaths will be redeemed.”
Simon walked past Luthor without looking at his friend. He paused beside the prone body of the guard and pulled his sword free from his chest. Kneeling again, he placed his hand on the man’s chest before taking a piece of his tunic to wipe the bright red blood from the saber. Wordlessly, the Inquisitor stood and sheathed his sword once more.
“Come now, Luthor,” Simon said flatly, though his lack of emotion merely betrayed the flurry of anger barely concealed beneath his surface. “Let’s find Mr. Dosett and repay him a thousand fold for everything he’s made us do in his name.”