The Spear of Malice (War of the Archons 3) Page 7

  The moon shone bright through her open window, bathing the room in silver light. She glared at it, taking some relief from its welcome glow. It was as though the shining beacon were bringing her back to reality. She suddenly felt foolish, scared by a dream. That was for children, not for a warrior.

  But as she crouched she realised a shade of her nightmare was still with her, echoing in the distance. The ringing of steel. A man shouting in anger.

  This was no dream. Something wasn’t right.

  The door burst open, casting her room in bright lantern light. Adaali shielded her eyes against it as she adopted a defensive stance, all she could see was a dark silhouette framed in the doorway.

  ‘We have to go,’ said her mother. ‘Put something on. Quickly.’

  Adaali barely had the chance to register her relief. She didn’t question her mother’s orders – with the door now open the noise of combat was louder. She could hear the distant sound of fighting as she hastily grabbed her tunic and pulled it over her head.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, noticing Rahuul clinging to his mother’s skirts.

  ‘We are under attack,’ Suraan replied, leading them from her room. ‘The palace is not safe.’

  Out in the light of the corridor Adaali saw that her mother held a knife close to her side. The guards who would normally have stood vigilantly in this wing of the palace were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘The southerners?’ Adaali said, visions of marauding knights flashing through her mind’s eye.

  ‘Not just them,’ her mother replied as she took Rahuul’s hand and led him down the stairwell. ‘We have been betrayed. We can trust no one.’

  Adaali tried to process that thought. They could trust no one? But how could this be? The Desert Blades were loyal, the militia of Kantor had protected the royal family for generations.

  ‘Where is Musir Dragosh?’ she asked.

  The queen shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  The sound of combat grew louder as they made their way down into the lower levels of the palace. As they turned a corner, Adaali glanced back down the corridor and in the wan light she caught sight of someone lying on the ground. She didn’t recognise who it was but it was clear they were quite dead. The sudden gravity of their situation began to dawn on her. All thoughts of bad dreams were gone – now the nightmare was all too real.

  When they made their way down another flight the sound of fighting grew louder. Queen Suraan stopped, pulling Rahuul closer to her side. Her little brother looked bewildered, though to his credit he showed no fear. The queen turned, placing the lantern down on the ground.

  ‘Stay close to me, both of you. We will carry on from here without a light to guide us. Stay close, do you understand?’

  Rahuul and Adaali both nodded and the queen grasped her son’s arm, pulling him after. A woman screamed somewhere in the distance. More men shouted. They made their way down another stairwell and found yet more bodies. In the scant light of the lower levels two men fought. They grunted and groaned, rolling on the tiled floor, but the queen did not wait to see who might win. She pulled her children on, out into the gardens and towards Adaali’s training yard.

  Fires burned in their braziers and with the moonlight, Adaali could see the fighting clearly. The Suderfeld knights were gathered in force and opposing them were the Desert Blades. The warriors of the Cordral fought valiantly, their curved swords flashing in the moonlight. Despite their skill, there was little their weapons could do against the stout shields and armour of the southern knights.

  Around the perimeter of the training yard was a path to the front gate but it was blocked by the melee. Queen Suraan paused in the shadows for a few short moments with her children as she decided what to do. Adaali was mesmerised by the fighting. She could not see Dragosh, but recognised some of his warriors. Someone screamed and she saw one of the Desert Blades fall, clutching a wound in his side. His assailant raised a straight-edged sword and brought it down on the warrior’s head, crushing his skull.

  Before Adaali could witness any more violence, her mother dragged her back inside the palace. They moved through an arch into an anteroom and Adaali could tell her mother was leading them down to the kitchens. If they could reach them it would be their only chance of escape.

  They entered the dining room through a side door, but before they had moved five paces, the queen stopped. In the dim light Adaali could see someone sitting at the head of the table. Other figures lingered in the shadows.

  There was a sudden flare of light as a taper ignited, and Adaali recognised the corpse-thin face of Egil Sun.

  ‘I’ve been waiting all evening,’ said the vizier, lighting the candles on the table before him. ‘So glad you could finally join me.’

  Suraan pulled Rahuul closer. Adaali could see her grip tightening on the knife at her side.

  ‘This is treason, Egil,’ she replied. ‘You cannot hope to get away with this.’

  Egil spread his bony fingers. ‘But I already have.’

  ‘The Desert Blades will hunt you to the ends of the earth. The people of Kantor will never accept you as their ruler.’

  As she spoke, Egil rose to his feet, moving from the other side of the table. Adaali wanted to scream, to rush forward and claw out the old bastard’s eyes, but she dared not move.

  ‘I don’t expect them to. I am no king. Merely the kingmaker.’

  Suraan pulled Rahuul behind her. ‘You will leave my son—’

  ‘Please. I intend nothing so wicked as murdering a child. I will treat him as my own… once you are gone.’

  Suraan screamed, raising the knife and throwing herself at Egil like a wild beast. Before she could reach him, one of the vizier’s bonecasters rushed from the dark. Adaali saw a glint of steel in his hand and her mother’s scream was cut short as he plunged it into Suraan’s ribcage.

  Adaali felt the world end. Something broke in her chest as she watched the queen’s body go limp, the knife dropping from her grip to clatter on the stone floor. Gently, the bonecaster laid the queen down. All this Egil Sun witnessed without emotion, before looking up at Rahuul.

  ‘Come, my prince,’ he said, reaching out a hand. ‘Let us get you to safety.’

  Rahuul took a step away from the vizier as Adaali laid a protective hand on her brother’s shoulder. Though he had seen his mother murdered he did not weep, but raised his chin in defiance. She could feel him trembling at her touch, holding back his grief and anger. Adaali had never been so proud of her brother’s nobility in the face of such horror. But she had never been taught the same restraint.

  She rolled across the floor, grasping her mother’s knife as she rose, and in one swift motion opened the bonecaster’s throat. She turned to face Egil, but he staggered back from her attack before she could make it, knocking into the table and sending the candles toppling. The room was suddenly bathed in darkness.

  Adaali could hear the bonecasters moving as one, desperate to defend their master and slaughter Adaali where she stood. She leapt back, picking up her brother, relieved he had not moved a muscle.

  ‘Careful,’ Egil hissed through the dark. ‘Do not harm the prince.’

  They began searching the dining hall for her, but Adaali had trained long and hard not to be heard, to leave no sign of her passing. Rahuul was silent as she carried him through the black, clinging to the edge of the room as she made her way to a door at the far end of the chamber.

  With a swift motion she wrenched it open, allowing light to flood in. As the door closed behind her she let her brother go and grasped a six-foot brazier, wedging the door shut with it. Egil’s bonecasters smashed themselves against the door, but she had already grabbed Rahuul’s hand and was rushing away down the passage.

  Adaali’s heart was pounding, and she felt a lump growing in her throat. She had just witnessed her mother’s murder, but she had to put that to the back of her mind. It was her duty to protect Rahuul. That was all that mattered. There would be time enough fo
r grief later.

  The kitchens were mercifully empty as she raced through them and she dragged Rahuul along to the side exit, pausing for a moment before opening the door out onto a pathway to the rear of the palace.

  Adaali paused again, checking her brother over to see if he was all right. When she was satisfied he was unharmed she looked him in the eyes, seeing that expression of bewilderment.

  ‘We need to run,’ she said. ‘We need to get far from here. Do you understand?’

  He nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Adaali hugged him to her, feeling his body tremble. All she wanted was to hold him, to keep him safe in her embrace, but she knew that would be suicide. No one was coming to help them now. They had to flee or die.

  She took Rahuul’s hand and led him out into the night. All about them were the sounds of clashing steel as the battle raged on. As she passed through the gardens at the side of the palace there was movement in the main courtyard thirty yards to her right. She hunkered down behind a bush of intricately trimmed topiary, pulling Rahuul down beside her. Peering through the undergrowth she saw the bearded giant they called Manssun Rike. He was surrounded by red-clad knights, the bodies of Kantor militia littering the ground all about him. Adaali had never truly feared anyone before, but seeing that warrior’s glare filled her heart with dread.

  A knight came staggering from the palace, clutching a wound at his side. Manssun grabbed him by the arm, seeming unconcerned that he was injured.

  ‘Did you find them?’ he demanded.

  The knight shook his head. ‘The vizier says they’ve escaped.’

  ‘Well they can’t be far. Take more men and spread out. And find Bertrand. This is no time for him to be fucking cowering in his chamber.’

  Adaali had seen enough. It was obvious who they were looking for and she had to put as much distance between Rahuul and the palace as possible.

  Under the moonlight, they stole across the gardens to a little-used side gate. There lay two corpses, one a warrior of the Desert Blades, the other a Suderfeld knight. Adaali pulled Rahuul past the bodies and out into the city.

  Compared to the din of the palace the streets were deathly quiet. Adaali clung to the shadows, wondering what next. She remembered her mother’s words – we can trust no one. She couldn’t even go to the militia. Or could she? Egil had clearly betrayed them but did his plot go all the way to the watchmen on the street? The only one she could really trust was Musir Dragosh, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Adaali glanced down at her little brother. She had to keep him safe. This was no time to take risks. She would have to see him out of the city and away, and worry about which direction once they had left Kantor well behind them.

  ‘You have to be silent now, Rahuul,’ she said. ‘Not a sound until we have left the city. Understand?’

  He nodded obediently, and she kissed his cheek before leading him further into the city, clinging to the shadows all the while. Rahuul played his part, keeping silent, staying close to her. Adaali was proud of how brave he was, especially after what he had witnessed. For her own part, she felt devastated – each step was a labour. All she wanted to do was collapse and weep and rage at the night, but she fought the urge, pushing herself on.

  Eventually they reached the edge of the city. Beyond the market square was the gate northwards. It was barely used, the trade to the north having dried up in centuries past. Hopefully it would not be well guarded.

  Adaali struck out across the open ground to the far end of the square, instantly regretting it as she heard the snort of an approaching horse and the grunt of a rider urging it on. Their way was suddenly barred, and in the moonlight, she could see the rider was young, wearing the uniform of a militiaman.

  ‘Stop there,’ he demanded.

  Adaali obeyed, pulling her brother behind her.

  ‘We are just going home,’ she lied. ‘My brother ran away and I—’

  ‘You’re the princess,’ he said. ‘And that’s the prince.’

  His horse became agitated, snorting once more as he pulled on the reins.

  ‘No, we are no one,’ she said, unable to disguise the panic in her voice.

  ‘They’re here,’ the militiaman cried at the top of his voice, wrenching his sword from its sheath. ‘I’ve found the royal bastards, they’re here.’

  In the distance she could hear voices shouting out in reply. More militia responding to the horseman’s yell.

  Adaali grabbed Rahuul’s hand and tried to race for the edge of the market, but the militiaman steered his horse to block their path. There was nowhere to go as the voices beyond the marketplace grew louder.

  She heard a whisper from the night, a dull metallic ring that came to a sudden halt. Glancing up she saw the haft of an axe protruding from the horseman’s chest. He slumped in his saddle, blade falling from his hand before he slid from the back of the horse and landed in a heap.

  Adaali turned to see a giant approaching from the dark. Relief washed over her as she saw framed in the moonlight a face she recognised. Musir Dragosh walked with purpose, grasping the reins of the horse before it could bolt.

  ‘Get on,’ he ordered.

  Adaali wasted no time in jumping up into the saddle. Dragosh lifted Rahuul up behind her and he grabbed her around the waist. As the distant voices grew closer, Dragosh led the horse north. Adaali glanced back, seeing men running after them. Voices yelled for them to stop but Dragosh was in no mood to heed their words.

  The north gate was just ahead of them now and, in the light of the lanterns hanging from the city walls, Adaali could see her weapon master was gripping tight to a wound in his side. He stopped at the edge of the marketplace, glaring across at the guards on the open gate before glancing back at their pursuers.

  ‘You have to go,’ he said, handing her the reins. ‘Just ride. Don’t stop for anything.’

  With that he pulled his huge curved blade from its sheath.

  ‘Come with us,’ Adaali begged. ‘There is room on the horse for all of us.’

  Dragosh shook his head. ‘You will be swifter without me,’ he replied. ‘And you must be swift, girl.’

  Adaali looked back again. In the dark she could see the silhouette of Manssun Rike crossing the marketplace, surrounded by his knights.

  ‘Go,’ Dragosh hissed, slapping a hand against the horse’s flank.

  The steed bolted, setting off at a gallop. Adaali had no time to turn back, to see her weapon master face the Suderfeld warriors. No time to watch him die.

  As she rode towards the open archway, the militia rushed to block her path. She did not heed their demands for her to stop as her heels beat against the side of the horse, urging it on faster. An archer rushed down from the parapet, taking a shot at them, but the arrow flew by harmlessly. The militia barring her way did not have the stomach to face down a galloping steed and they scattered as she rode by. In an instant she was under the arch with nothing but the sound of their angry cries in her wake.

  The sun was rising on the distant horizon as she urged the horse onwards. Adaali did not dare allow it to take a breath until she’d left the city in the distance. The road rose up to higher ground that looked down on the city and Adaali was more than a league distant before she reined the horse in, turning to take one last glance back at Kantor. It seemed quiet in the dawn light, as it would have on any other morning.

  ‘We will return here soon, Rahuul,’ she said. ‘We will find a way to reclaim your crown.’

  Her brother’s grip loosened on her waist and he began to slip. Before she could catch him he fell from the horse, landing on the ground with a sickening thump. Adaali jumped from the saddle, crouching beside him. When she saw the arrow protruding from his ribs she clamped a hand over her mouth.

  ‘I was silent,’ he whispered. ‘Just like you told me.’

  She tried to speak, to tell him everything was all right, but all she managed was a strangled sob. Reaching out she grasped her brother’s hand as he stared back at her. But h
e wasn’t staring at her any longer. He was staring at nothing.

  Her entire life had been dedicated to keeping her little brother safe, and now he was gone. She had failed.

  Despair began to swell in her heart as she looked up to see riders leaving the northern gate of Kantor. The longer she watched them approach, the more that despair began to contort. It smouldered, catching alight, bursting into flame until it raged. Until she raged.

  Let them come. She would fight them. But not here, not now.

  She would avenge her brother, but first she had to run.

  Adaali leapt back onto the horse. Grasping the reins she dug her heels into its flanks. Faster and faster the horse galloped into the northern desert. Let them come after her, let them track her into the wastes. She would make it a graveyard for them all.

  8

  NIGHT had fallen over the Shengen camp and a blanket of stars shrouded the huge canyon. Siff breathed in the night air as she watched the constellations paint their slow journey across the black canvas sky. The realm of mortals had its own mundane beauty, and she was determined to appreciate every brief moment while here. But Siff knew she did not belong in this place. Before long this would all be over, and one way or another she would return home.

  A twinge of pain in her side dragged her from the reverie. How many battles had it been now? How many enemies had she slaughtered to get to Innellan? And how many wounds had she suffered on the journey? Wounds that would have slain any mortal. Wounds that were all too slow to heal.

  She knew that all she need do was stand atop a promontory, hold up her hands to summon her troops and accept their eager worship. Their benefaction would see those wounds healed in an instant. She only had to welcome their devotion and she would become more powerful even than Innellan.

  But Siff refused. She was here to stop Innellan, to see an end to this perpetual cycle of worship and war. To stop the suffering that it inevitably led to. If there was one thing she could not compromise on it was that, and so she would have to suffer the pain. She would not succumb to the same temptations as Innellan and Armadon. Laigon would be the one her armies followed – let him be their figurehead and she his faithful lieutenant. It was the only way.