The Hunter's Gambit

by Nicholas McIntire

  Although the comment was directed at Ilyana, Roux pitched his voice loud enough so that it carried in the cavernous church. Silence finally reigned supreme.

  “Now then,” Ilyana said crisply, “if you’ll show us the way, we can get out of here.”

  Colonel Charles Ander was dead.

  He knew that as well as he knew his own name. Their weak barricade was already beginning to give, and he simply didn’t have the men required for survival against such incredible odds.

  No, there would be no victory. Even now he could imagine the tide that soon would crash through the dimly lit hall, sweeping steel across flesh and rendering the whole place scarlet.

  “Colonel?”

  Ander snapped out of his reverie, turning to the young sergeant standing before him. He could see that the man was about to collapse from exhaustion, which had become the standard throughout the men of the Guard since the Demon’s attack.

  “Sergeant?”

  “Sir, the men can’t hold the barricade much longer. What happens when it breaks?”

  Ander smiled weakly, “We fight, Sergeant. And we die honorably in defense of our queen and our realm.”

  The sergeant nodded. Apparently this wasn’t that far from his own thoughts on the matter. “As you say, Sir.”

  Ander hated to be such a pessimist, but they were doomed. Emelian Krasik had too many men. Of the five thousand Guardsmen, only a scant fifteen hundred remained. And such a number was not nearly significant enough to defend the Palace against a force the size of Krasik’s.

  Screams rent the air and Ander closed his eyes.

  It was finally here.

  He took a deep breath and drew his sword. But when he surveyed the barricade, it was still holding. As he watched, one of his men stepped near the barricade, then stumbled backwards.

  Ander hurried to the man, “What is it, soldier?”

  “The barricade, Sir.” the soldier stammered, “It’s hot, Sir.”

  Ander frowned, “Hot?”

  And then he felt it. Waves of rippling heat and the shrieks of men swept across them, and Ander gagged as the stench of burning flesh and hair clung to his nostrils. The screams abruptly ceased, leaving a deafening, deathly silence in their wake.

  The men glanced at each other nervously, their eyes wide and alert, their swords gripped tightly. Whatever was going on out there, it would soon be coming for them. And when it did, they were prepared to go down fighting.

  “Colonel Ander?” a voice called from the other side of the barricade.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  “Colonel Ander, it’s Jonas Belgi. Let me through.”

  Ander directed two of his men to remove the large chest-of-drawers that had served as their makeshift doorway before Krasik had brought the weight of his men down on them.

  A tense silence followed as they waited to see if it was, as many suspected, a trick of the other side of catch them off guard. But if so, why the screaming? Why the heat?

  And then the prince stepped through, looking exhausted and soot-stained but viciously determined.

  The men dropped to their knees in a show of respect.

  “On your feet, gentlemen. We don’t have time for ceremony.”

  “Highness,” Ander said uncertainly, “begging your pardon, but where are the men who were on the other side?”

  “They’re dead, Colonel. But more will follow. As I made my way here I encountered a large number of soldiers headed this way. They won’t be far behind.”

  “But Highness, why have you come here? This corridor is a dead-end. It’s a death trap.”

  “In its present form, yes. If you will allow me, I’d like to change that.”

  Ander hardly knew how to answer the prince. He finally managed a weak, “Yes, Highness.”

  Then he watched the prince with the same worshipful gaze that his fellow Guardsmen had already adopted.

  Jonas walked past Ander and through the ranks of the Guardsmen, ignoring them as he walked towards the end of the hallway. He turned and addressed Ander, “Is there a latrine in this corridor?”

  Ander pointed uncertainly, “Yes, Highness. In the room directly to your left.”

  Jonas turned and opened the door, appraising it for a long moment. The men turned and looked to Ander for explanation, but he shrugged his shoulders.

  “Gentlemen,” Jonas said from the door of the latrine, “I’d like for you to turn and stare directly at the barricade.”

  The men looked to Ander. He nodded hurriedly and turned as Jonas requested.

  There was a long period of silence, followed by a strange sort of humming. And then the entire hallway was bathed in an uncanny white light. Ander heard a high-pitched squealing that reminded him of a blade being pressed against a whetstone.

  It was gone as suddenly as it had begun. Silence reigned and Ander hazarded a glance over his shoulder.

  Jonas was standing to the side of the corridor, arm braced against the wall, clearly winded. A plume of dust was slowly rising from the latrine and coating the walls in a thin sheen of pale gray.

  Gods, what had the man done?

  “You may turn around now, gentlemen.” Jonas managed after a few moments.

  The men all turned and stared. Jonas indicated the dusty latrine, “I believe our exit is finished.”

  And suddenly Ander understood. The sewer system. It ran under the entire city and emptied itself in two different places; the marsh in the west and the river to the east. If they followed it in either direction they could pass under the walls of both the Palace and city unmolested.

  “Highness,” Ander said, hurrying to where Jonas stood, “do you know the way through the sewers?”

  Jonas nodded, “I do. We’ll come out in the marshland west of here.”

  Ander could hardly believe it, “Then by all means, Highness, lead the way.”

  One by one the surviving men of the Palace Guard dropped eagerly into the bowels of Kalinor and made their way slowly west, towards freedom.

  CHAPTER 46

  Smoke and Mirror

  ALEKSEI SNIFFED LIGHTLY at the air, sifting through the spectrum of scents that were normally to be found in the storerooms beneath the kitchens until he found the one he was looking for.

  The scent of men.

  There were ten of them, some filthier than others.

  From his position, Aleksei could see that they had built themselves a sort of breaker wall. It was constructed out of supply sacks, though a few crates had been pressed into service along the side of the barricade closest to him.

  Aleksei hugged the wall and kept to the shadows cast by the guardsmen’s fire. He wasn’t sure how the decision had been made to have these men guard Andariana, but he had a suspicion that they were relying more on the secrecy of her location than on the aptitude of her guardians.

  He reached the barricade, thankful for the crates that allowed him to remain hidden. No matter his speed or skill, if ten men came at him at once he would likely lose. But as it stood they didn’t know he was there, and there was power in such stealth, in the fear of the unknown.

  Aleksei dropped to a crouch and tested the air again. This close, the scents of the men were much clearer. He could hear their hearts beating. He knew where they were within their enclosure, and which of them had been dipping into the Palace’s heady supply of wine.

  One of the men was standing only a pace from him, on the other side of the crates. As he crouched there, Aleksei placed his hand against the cool stone floor and let loose one bit of the magic he commanded. At first nothing happened, but he concentrated. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the minutes ticked by.

  And then he felt it.

  The thin black talon slithered out across his hand and onto the stone. He focused his full attention on that single midnight dagger, forcing the rest of the Mantle back. If he relaxed his guard it would simply swarm the nearest prey in sight, and he could
n’t afford that.

  The tendril slipped under the wall of crates and located the target, slithering up the leg of the man’s trouser and sinking into his calf. From the barricade, Aleksei could hear the shouts of the other men as their compatriot gasped and fell to the floor writhing.

  Just as Aleksei predicted, none of them noticed the thread of reddening-black trailing from their stricken companion and snaking under the barricade. And then the man died, his life-force drained from his body. Their cries intensified.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Is there a pox down here?”

  “Never heard of a pox that killed you that fast.”

  “What else could it be? He doesn’t have a mark on him.”

  “What if it’s one of them Magi? We’ve seen the sorts of things they can do.”

  “But they’re not supposed to be able to do anything like this!”

  “Did you see what Lord Bael did at the Palace Gate?”

  “But he’s fighting for us!”

  “They lock up any Magi that try that stuff here.”

  Aleksei rapidly withdrew the Mantle. He was about to repeat the tactic again when the men all let out renewed cries of terror.

  “Great gods!” one roared, “Regg’s turned yellow!”

  “I’m feeling a chill, Sergeant! Is it the pox?”

  Aleksei frowned, listening as their hysteria grew. The man had turned yellow? What in the world would have caused that?

  He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Right, it’s settled then. You two stay here and sound the alarm if anything suspicious shows up. The rest of us will go for reinforcements. Surely there’s a Magus they can send down to make sure all’s to rights.”

  Aleksei slipped deeper into the shadows. He heard the two unfortunates who were to be left behind voice their fears, but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

  Suddenly seven men were stepping around the barricade.

  Aleksei held his breath.

  The men, however, were too frightened to do anything but scurry from the cellar as quickly as possible.

  He waited until they were out of earshot. The remaining guards were trying to figure out what to do with their fallen comrade. The question of whether or not his body would give them the same disease was, however, never answered.

  Aleksei took mere heartbeats to cut them down. The soldiers were so unprepared for the onslaught that neither of them even managed to draw a weapon.

  He looked around, making sure he hadn’t missed anyone else before hurrying to the door of the storeroom and trying the door handle. It was locked. He glanced back at the corpses in the enclosure. While it was possible that there was a key on one of them, searching would cost him valuable time.

  Instead he took a step back from the door, aimed above the small lock, and kicked out as hard as he could.

  As he had hoped, the door burst inward revealing a large, poorly lit room empty save for the two women slumped at the far end.

  Aya stood and readied herself for a fight. Aleksei realized that with the firelight at his back she couldn’t tell who he was. He could sense her gripping the Archanium and realized that he had better identify himself.

  “Aya, it’s me!” he shouted, hurrying forward in case she had been planning to set him on fire just to be safe.

  The Magus' connection to the Archanium faltered, then vanished. As he came into the light of their small lantern, Aya threw her arms around his neck.

  “Thank the gods.” she breathed. “Did my trick work?”

  Aleksei smiled at her, “You turned the guard yellow?”

  She nodded proudly.

  He returned to the moment, moving past the triumphant Magus and hurriedly crouched next to his queen, “Majesty?”

  She opened her eyes weakly and stared at him for a long moment without speaking. He realized that she wasn’t entirely aware.

  “Majesty, I’ve come to take you out of here.”

  Andariana sat up and glanced around in confusion, “But the guards…Aya told me there were half a score.”

  Aleksei offered a grim half-smile, “There were, Majesty. Three have been dealt with, but the rest have gone for reinforcements. We don’t have much time before they get back. Now hurry, we have to get you out of the city.”

  “Out of the city.” Andariana mumbled. She shook her head, “Drago, surely you know that there’s no way we can get out of here alive. Certainly not me. They’ll be looking for me.”

  Aleksei sighed and fixed her in his golden-eyed gaze, “Andariana, you’re going to have to trust me. I can get you to safety, but we’re going to have to move now.”

  Andariana watched him for a moment, then mirrored his half-hearted smile. “Very well, Aleksei. I place my life in your hands. Do what you will.”

  “Can you stand?”

  Andariana frowned, “An excellent question. I don’t guess I’ve given that a try since I was thrown in here.”

  With Aya’s help, Aleksei gently pulled the queen to her feet. Andariana swayed unsteadily, but managed to find her balance.

  “Krasik did something to me when we were in my rooms. I’m not sure how quickly I can move.”

  Aleksei shrugged, “I’ll carry you if I have to.”

  Even in her semiconscious state, Andariana seemed startled, “I don’t think it will come to that.”

  Leaning lightly on Aya, Andariana followed Aleksei out of the storeroom and around the trio of bodies he had left stiffening in the enclosure. Andariana paused only to casually spit on one of them before following him out of the warehouse and up the stairs to the South Lawn.

  The Lawn was in chaos. It seemed that Roux had been successful in getting the Magi out, because the Cathedral doors had been cast open and men and women were rushing in and out frantically. But their escape had also multiplied the number rebel forces on the South Lawn.

  “This way.” Aleksei growled, leading them along the edge of the south wing and up towards the West Lawn.

  After an eternity of jumping from shadow to shadow, they came in sight of the stables.

  “What are you planning?” Aya whispered uncertainly.

  Aleksei hid his smile, “You’ll see. I want the two of you to hug the darkness. I’ll be right back.”

  Aleksei vanished.

  Aya helped Andariana back into the shadowed recesses of the Palace, keeping Andariana’s face from sight as best she could. Several soldiers ran past the two women, and her heart clenched in her chest, but they both remained motionless and the men passed them by.

  And then Aleksei emerged from the stable. Aya blinked in surprise as Aleksei walked towards them, leading a small cart pulled by two horses. One of the horses was a fine black stallion that Aya recognized as Aleksei’s warhorse Agriphon. The other was an ancient draft horse that she had seen before, but hadn’t realized was even still alive.

  Both horses had been saddled.

  He reached them and brought the horses to a halt. Rather than acknowledge either woman, Aleksei rushed to the back of the cart and began shifting something around. A corpse landed leadenly on the ground behind the cart. Then another.

  Aleksei walked into the shadows where they stood and whispered, “Alright, get in the cart.”

  The two women stared at one another.

  “I beg your pardon?” Andariana whispered uncertainly.

  He leveled the same look he’d used in the storeroom. “You have to trust me. I need you and Aya to climb into this cart and pretend to be dead. I’m going to place these corpses over you as camouflage, and then I’m going to drive us out of the city.”

  “Surely you don’t think this will work.” Aya hissed.

  “We’ll find out, won’t we?” Aleksei snapped his patience clearly thinning. “Now get in the cart.”

  Andariana glanced at the Magus, “You first.”

  Aya gave a heavy sigh and clambered onto the blood-blackened floorboards, coming fac
e to face with a stinking corpse. His eyes were open and bulging. She laid on her stomach and closed her eyes, wishing she didn’t have to breathe quite so often.

  A moment later she felt the queen flop unceremoniously next to her with an undignified grunt. She wondered whether Andariana had climbed in or if Aleksei had finally lost his composure with the queen.

  And then came the worst part. The two corpses that had been lying on the Lawn were laid across their backs, forcing them down into the gut-greased boards.

  Aya swore she could feel something dripping on the back of her neck.

  Aleksei walked around to the front of the cart and patted his horses, then gently led them towards the Palace gate. Once he got out into the city, it would be the work of minutes to reach the East Gate. Getting that one open would be another matter entirely.

  The horses plodded along steadily. Aleksei knew how fortunate he was that Agriphon was smart enough, and Dash old enough, to follow his lead.

  As they approached the chaos of the Palace Gate, the guards began to direct their attention to Aleksei. He took a deep breath, then looked up at the men amassing before him. He kept a blank expression on his face until he came within a few paces of the gate.

  “What do you want, soldier?” a lieutenant at the gate demanded.

  Aleksei blinked a few times, as though trying to understand the question.

  He summoned the most exaggerated Southern Plain accent he could recall, “Beggin’ your pardon, Lieutenant, Sir. I was told to take these here bodies out into the country. Magus Bael’s orders, Lieutenant, Sir.”

  “I have received no such orders, soldier.” the lieutenant snapped.

  Aleksei ran a hand through his hair, its normal golden brilliance severely diminished by layers of dust and dried blood.

  “Well, Sir, I admit I’ma bit confused. But me and a few other boys were rounded up by the Demon himself. He said these bodies were ‘prime feed’ for the Zra-Uul’s magic army? Told us all to get carts from the stables and get these bodies out there ‘post-haste’.”