Chapter 41
When Cevet had finished his story, he sank back into his chair, emotionally spent, and continued to stare at the floor, not meeting anyone’s gaze.
Relam sat perfectly still, elbows resting on the armrests of his chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together in front of his face. To his left, Oreius had his arms crossed and was frowning into his beard. Narin was sitting rigidly in his seat, looking from Relam to Cevet and back again.
“It’s not your fault,” Relam said finally.
Cevet looked up in disbelief.
“I don’t hold anything against you,” Relam continued, sitting up straighter and leaning forward. “Your father, however, has made some bad choices. Even if he was being manipulated by D’Arnlo. He is the primary target at this point.”
“D’Arnlo?” Cevet asked.
“Yes,” Relam said, nodding. “Now, with your testimony and the information that Narin and I have gathered, plus accounts from a few others, that should be enough to convince the Assembly that D’Arnlo is guilty.”
“Are you sure?” Cevet asked.
“Yes,” Relam said emphatically.
“The great lords have no love for your family,” Narin pointed out. “And they may be stung by Lord Thius being implicated in this scheme.”
“I have an idea about that,” Relam said. “Actually, I have an idea to finish this whole thing right now.”
“What?” Narin asked, sitting up straighter.
“Let’s go,” Relam said, getting to his feet. “Coming Cevet?”
“Where are we going?” the lordling asked warily.
Relam smiled, looking around at the others. “We’re going to the Citadel,” he said grimly. “It’s time I had a little talk with Master D’Arnlo.”
“What?” Narin demanded. “No, Relam, that’s a terrible idea. Walking into the place where D’Arnlo is strongest and challenging him? That’s suicide.”
“Trust me, Narin,” Relam said, looking at Oreius. “I know what I’m doing.”
The old warrior nodded gravely. “Yes, he does,” Oreius said, standing. “I am with you, your majesty.”
“Me too,” Cevet said, jumping to his feet, eyes blazing, ready to restore his family’s honor.
Narin hesitated, and then stood as well. “My sword is yours, your majesty.”
Relam nodded. “Good. Follow me, and let me do all the talking. Everyone else, I want you cloaked up so your faces can’t be seen, especially Oreius and Narin.”
Heads nodded all around, and Relam turned and left the kitchen, pulling the hood of his winter cloak forward to conceal his face.
They left by the back door, slipping around the side of Oreius’ house and out to the River Road. The road was still empty, probably a side effect of the city lockdown combined with the miserable weather. Patrols of soldiers moved past, going door to door. Relam had never seen the city guard out in such force.
“Training will still be going?” Relam muttered to Cevet out of the corner of his mouth.
Cevet grunted. “Should be.”
“Good.”
Relam led the way right up to the gates of the Citadel, stopping in front of the sergeant on duty. “Open the gate,” he commanded.
The sergeant raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the way to make friends, stranger.”
Relam pushed his hood back and stepped forward, invading the guard’s personal space. “I’ll only ask nicely one more time. Open the gate.”
The sergeant stepped back and came up against the gate. “Your majesty! So good to see you.”
“I have an appointment with Master D’Arnlo,” Relam said, staring the man down.
“Yes,” the sergeant said, gulping. “We’ll open the gate and take you right up.”
“Thank you,” Relam said grimly, pulling his hood forward once more.
The gate rattled open and the guards formed up around Relam and his companions, nine in all. Then, the group moved swiftly into the Citadel. The doors shut behind them immediately, and Relam noticed that the locking beam was dropped into place as well.
“Security has been tightened,” Relam observed to nobody in particular.
The guards made no reply, marching on stoically and silently. Relam shrugged and followed. They climbed the winding stairs in the central tower, slowly ascending towards the seventh level and the courtyard where D’Arnlo trained his students. Relam’s heart started beating faster as he thought of the coming confrontation.
Then, all too soon, they were emerging from the central tower and onto the flat courtyard, seven stories up, higher than most of the buildings in the capital city.
The nine guards stopped Relam and his three companions just beyond the door. Ahead, Relam could see D’Arnlo working with four students: Knet, Delan, Jatt, and of course, Sebast. As the group emerged from the stairs, D’Arnlo looked up and immediately called a halt to the drill.
Relam seized the initiative, stepping forward quickly, his three allies sticking close. He threw back his hood again. “Master D’Arnlo,” he said calmly. “Surprised to see me?”
The sword master blinked in surprise, then gave an oily smile. “Not at all, Relam. I knew that my men would find you eventually.”
“Oh, they did not find me,” Relam countered, stepping forward again. “I came here of my own accord. I wanted a word with you, you see.”
“Oh? What about?”
“The assassin that you sent after me last night,” Relam said grimly. “The one you slaughtered in the alley around the corner from the Citadel.”
D’Arnlo’s oily smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly. “Such accusations,” he said. Relam looked around, saw that he had everyone’s attention, including four nervous trainees, drawn blades still held loosely. Well, three and a half. Jatt was watching a hawk circling the central tower.
“That’s just the start,” Relam growled. “There’s also the matter of the three assassins you hired over a year ago, two of which still reside in the Eyrie tower. You also orchestrated my mother’s death, even though your hand was not the one that delivered the poison.”
“And how do you plan to prove all of this?” D’Arnlo hissed.
“You do not deny it?” Relam asked, smiling grimly.
“Of course I do,” D’Arnlo said quickly.
“In that case, I will prove it through witnesses,” Relam replied. “The prisoners you hold will do for starters. Plus my own experiences, those of a few others. Oh, and testimony from the one who overheard your discussion with Lord Thius this morning.”
The color drained from D’Arnlo’s face. “Really?” he said finally, getting his mouth working again. “And who might that be?”
“Me,” Cevet said, stepping forward and lowering his own hood.
D’Arnlo’s lip curled scornfully. “Ah, young Thius. I should have known. Your father was most concerned when you disappeared this morning. Even accused me of taking you prisoner to ensure his cooperation.”
“His cooperation in your scheme to take the throne?” Cevet asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You exposed your own father?” D’Arnlo demanded. “Do you realize what this means for you? For your family?”
“Yes,” Cevet replied. “I am here to salvage what is left of my family’s honor.”
He drew his sword and Relam did as well. From behind the two young fighters, Oreius and Narin stepped forward, drawing their blades as well and shrugging off their cloaks.
“As the rightful heir to the Sthan Kingdom, I place you under arrest for treason, D’Arnlo,” Relam said. “Surrender your blade to us now, slowly and hilt first.”
D’Arnlo glared at Relam and snapped his fingers. Immediately, the nine Citadel guards lowered their halberds in a menacing line, half surrounding Relam’s little group. Relam’s eyes narrowed and he, Cevet, Oreius, and Narin immediately put their backs together, facing outward.
“Pathetic,” D’Arnlo sneered. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t be prepared
for something like this? I will not surrender today, boy, but I will accept yours.”
“Not on your life,” Relam replied. “Besides, even if you win here today, you have four witnesses who will know your true nature. And they have considerable influence on the great lords.”
“They are mine,” D’Arnlo countered, glancing at his students. “They will not betray me. In fact, they will likely join the fight on my side, to prove their loyalty.” He turned to the four lordlings. “How about it?” he said, spreading his arms. “Who will be first to prove themselves?”
There was a pause, then Sebast Garenes stepped forward, sword held at the ready. D’Arnlo laughed and made a slight bow, gesturing for Sebast to approach Relam.
“Go ahead,” the sword master urged. “Prove yourself to me. Begin the battle that will decide the fate of our kingdom. Write your name into history.”
Sebast advanced, then stopped, right in front of Relam. The young prince looked into his former rival’s eyes. There was not hatred there, nor anger. There was no animosity to be found, nor any sign that Sebast held a grudge. Relam lowered his sword and stood erect, knowing he was safe.
As he did, Sebast spun around and raised his sword, glaring at D’Arnlo. “Sorry, D’Arnlo,” he said. “But I am not yours to command.”
D’Arnlo scowled and stepped forward angrily. As he did, the other three students ran to join Relam and the others, doubling their strength. The numbers were nearly even now, though it was still a lopsided battle.
“How . . . unfortunate,” D’Arnlo said mildly. “I had expected better of you, my students. But if you choose to die with these fools,” he drew his sword with a hiss of leather on steel, “Then who am I to stop you?”
Relam drew breath to order his band to attack, but a rough hand closed on his shoulder and pushed him gently out of the way. Oreius stepped forward to face D’Arnlo. “You will not touch them,” he said sternly. “Any of them.”
D’Arnlo inclined his head. “Oreius,” he growled. “You were always a meddlesome fool.” Relam noted with interest that the master of the Citadel looked decidedly nervous, shifting uncomfortably and eying the older man’s sword.
Oreius stared D’Arnlo down. “There is only one fool here, Bene, and it is not me. For the last time, stand down.”
“Never!” D’Arnlo roared. “My time has come. Yours is at an end, old man!”
D’Arnlo lashed out with his sword, trying to catch Oreius unawares. The old warrior flicked the blow aside contemptuously and retaliated in a flash of steel, driving D’Arnlo back.
“Now!” Relam roared, lunging forward and knocking the nearest soldier’s halberd aside.
The others sprang into action, surprising the Citadel guards. Relam managed to stun one with a blow to the head, then found himself beset by two opponents. Narin flanked the first, stabbing him in the thigh, and he and Relam combined to defeat the other. The entire sequence took less than ten seconds, and just like that Relam’s force had the advantage in numbers.
The lordlings quickly joined forces with Relam and Narin, forming a wedge with Relam at the tip. The remaining Citadel guards retreated to the entrance to the courtyard, trying to prevent escape. But Relam was not looking to escape.
“Flank them,” he said briefly. “Jatt, Sebast, take the left side. Knet, Delan, to the right. Narin, Cevet and I will take the middle.”
“What are we doing?” Jatt asked, blinking.
Relam sighed exasperatedly. Then, an idea occurred to him. He bent over and picked up one of the fallen guard’s halberds, handing to Jatt.
“Use this,” he said. In the massive boy’s hands it would be a dangerous weapon. “Stab them with the spearhead, smash them with the axe. Keep them at a distance. Make sense?”
“I think so,” Jatt said, frowning at the unfamiliar weapon. “It’s a bit long, isn’t it?”
“That means you can strike from further away,” Relam said patiently.
“Oh,” Jatt said, understanding. “I can do that.”
“Good,” Relam muttered. “Now, charge!”
The young warrior ran forward, sword held overhead, closely followed by Narin and Cevet. They targeted the center of the line, engaging two of the remaining six guards. The Citadel warriors lunged forward with their halberds, but Relam turned sideways and slipped between the spearheads, deflecting one with his sword. Then, he brought his sword up and over, smashing it down on the shaft of the other halberd. Both guards dropped the unwieldy weapons and drew short swords as Cevet and Narin shot past Relam and joined the fight.
To the left, Jatt lanced one of the guards with a powerful jab of his captured halberd. The weapon, with Jatt’s massive strength behind it, punched straight through the Citadel guard’s armor and sank deep into his body. The guard collapsed, pulling Jatt off balance and causing him to fall in a heap. Sebast engaged the other guard before he could strike at Jatt, dueling with a cold, dispassionate precision. To the right, Knet and Delan darted and weaved around the final two guards, mostly playing defense and waiting for an opening. Relam ranged over and created one, smashing the hilt of his sword into one guard’s head. The other guard turned to face Relam and Delan lunged forward, pricking the man’s neck with his blade.
The Citadel guard dropped his weapons immediately and surrendered. Knet kept an eye on him, while Delan and Relam rejoined the fight.
The remaining three guards were skilled, but outnumbered. They fought with the strength of desperation, all the while being driven back by the relentless force of Relam, Sebast, Narin, Cevet, and Delan. The halberds had been taken completely out of play, and every man was armed with a short sword instead. The young fighters and Narin took it in turns to surge forward in a flurry of flashing steel and then surrender the fight to a comrade. This tactic had the effect of wearing the Citadel guards down quickly, and it was not long before the first man fell to a quick thrust from Narin. The second guard suffered a slash on the forearm from Sebast, and the third surrendered before Cevet could finish him off. Relam quickly helped his comrades herd the defeated guards to one side, forcing them to kneel in a line with their hands on their heads.
Only then did Relam become aware that Oreius and D’Arnlo were still dueling, the sound of their clashing blades ringing on the frosty air. Relam watched amazed as Oreius attacked, his sword a silver blur, striking in perfect rhythm and with destructive power. Somehow, D’Arnlo was fending him off, defending even the fastest attacks skillfully. But the master of the Citadel was also giving ground towards the battlements that surrounded the courtyard on three sides.
Relam wanted to help but the duel was moving too fast for him to follow as a spectator, much less a participant. This was a level of skill and speed that he had not witnessed even in his training with Oreius. This was a duel of masters, lifetime students of swordplay. It was no place for a warrior in training.
Narin stepped up beside Relam, resting a hand on his shoulder. “That,” he observed, “Is a truly humbling sight.”
“Is there no way we can help?” Relam asked desperately.
Narin looked around, then grinned evilly. “How about those halberds?” he suggested. “Stand off a few feet and needle our traitor with them, help Oreius keep him contained.”
“Excellent idea,” Relam agreed. “Cevet, Delan, Sebast, grab halberds and come with us.” As he spoke, Relam sheathed his own sword and grabbed one of the fallen weapons. It was heavier than he had expected, and difficult to wield.
“Circle him!” Relam called to the others as they moved forward. “We need to contain him, keep him from getting away.”
Narin and the lordlings nodded their understanding and fanned out, Relam and Narin taking the ends of the line, the others filling in around Oreius. D’Arnlo saw what they were planning and snarled, locking blades with Oreius, trying to shove past him and move into the open. But Sebast lunged forward and pricked D’Arnlo with his spear point, forcing the master to jump back. As the others closed in, Oreius slowed his attac
k and then stopped, though he held his sword at the ready. Another moment, and D’Arnlo was pinned against the battlements, completely surrounded.
“Give up, D’Arnlo,” Relam called. “You are beaten.”
“Beaten?” the traitor laughed. “You wish, boy. Let me show you how foolhardy you are.”
D’Arnlo batted Relam’s halberd aside with his sword, then ran at the young prince and tackled him before the others could react. Oreius swiped at the other master as he passed by, but he was too slow.
The traitor smashed into Relam and the prince staggered to the right, bumping against the crenellations. Then, he slipped and fell over the wall, dragging D’Arnlo with him.
They did not fall far, landing on a sloping roof some two meters below. The impact was enough to drive the breath from Relam’s lungs though. D’Arnlo landed on Relam’s legs, pinning him for a moment. Then, they began sliding on the slick roof tiles. Relam kicked free of D’Arnlo, who howled in pain, and slid easily down to another battlemented walkway, facing slightly away from the River Road. Further along the walkway, D’Arnlo tumbled down the roof awkwardly and landed in a heap groaning. But the sword master was far from beaten. Slowly, he got to his feet and drew his sword, murder in his eyes.
Relam got to his feet and drew his own sword, knowing he was hopelessly outmatched. He began backing away slowly, towards the southwest tower of the Citadel.
“Relam! Hold on!”
The prince whirled around and looked up in time to see Oreius vault the battlements around the seventh level courtyard and come sliding down the tiled roof to land behind D’Arnlo. The old warrior landed on his two feet, knees flexed, ready for battle.
The traitor looked from Relam to Oreius and snarled. “You will not stop me, Oreius. The boy will die, and so will you.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Oreius replied, charging into battle again.
Relam watched as the two masters began their duel once more, trying to decide what he should do. He could flee, try to organize help, but he would likely be stuck outside of the Citadel then.
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 49