Or, Relam realized, he could fight.
The young prince ran forward, past a wooden door centering the wall to his left, and struck at D’Arnlo’s back, hoping to end the fight then and there. But the sword master blocked the cut contemptuously. D’Arnlo had no time to finish Relam off though because Oreius was attacking again from the other side. Relam continued to dart in and thrust or slash at D’Arnlo as much as he could, hoping that he could distract the traitor long enough for Oreius to finish him. But D’Arnlo fended them both off consistently. Not easily, mind. But there was a reason the man was considered a master.
Relam was preparing to leap forward again, when the door he had noticed earlier slammed open, nearly hitting him as it crashed against the wall. Citadel guards poured from the opening, short swords and shields held at the ready.
“Relam, run!” Oreius shouted. “Get clear!”
The young prince hesitated, then turned and ran for the southwest tower, pursued by at least a dozen Citadel guards. The door to the tower was already open, and Relam somersaulted through the gap, shoving the door closed and throwing the bolt, jumping back as the first guard hit the door at full speed, shaking it in its frame.
Relam backed away for a moment, breathing heavily, and took a moment to get his bearings. He seemed to be in a sort of guardroom, with weapons and equipment hanging from the walls. Relam snatched up a round buckler, fixing it to his left arm, and backed away, evaluating his options.
The door would not hold forever, and when the guards broke through they could fill the room, attacking from all sides. Relam needed a more confined space if he was going to make a stand. He had no idea where in the Citadel he was, or which direction he had to go to get back to the courtyard.
The door shook on its hinges again as a body slammed into it. Relam backed away and turned around, looking for an escape. He could go up, but that only led to the roof of the tower, where he would be trapped. Finally, Relam’s gaze settled on a door, opposite the one he had come through. He wondered where it led, guessing that it probably opened onto another battlemented walkway like the one he had just vacated. That would be as good a place as any to make a stand.
Relam slipped quietly through the door, closing it quickly behind him, breathing a sigh of relief. With any luck, the guards pursuing him would think he had gone down to ground level to escape. Now all he had to do was wait for an opportunity to sneak back through and help Oreius.
The young prince turned around, grinning, and started to lower his sword. Then the grin slid from his face as he saw four Citadel guards manning the battlements, advancing slowly towards him.
Chapter 42
“Stand down,” Relam said, wishing his voice wouldn’t shake in moments such as this. “In the name of your king!”
The Citadel guards paused, looked at one another, and then started advancing again.
Relam sighed heavily. “It was worth a shot,” he muttered. Then, he ran straight at the four men, knowing that the only way ahead was to move forward. He knew what he had left behind him and he was not going back there.
The guards were spread out, with about three meters separation between each man. Relam ducked the first man’s side cut, then jabbed the point of his sword at his legs. The soldier sidestepped awkwardly and swung his shield in a short horizontal arc, catching Relam on the shoulder and sending him stumbling.
The prince winced, rolling his shoulder a few times to work out the soreness. Then, he straightened and flowed into one of Oreius’ attack patterns, cutting and thrusting and slashing, always staying in control, keeping his feet in perfect time with his sword arm, delivering the maximum power with every blow. The Citadel guard’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in a focused glare as Relam pressed the attack, spinning and hacking. Finally, Relam followed up a thrust with a swipe from his shield, knocking the guard’s sword aside, and ran the man through.
The guard crumpled to the stone walkway, gasping in pain, and Relam vaulted over the body to face the next enemy. He did not pause to size up his opponent or otherwise disrupt the flow of the battle. He simply went right back to attacking, driving the surprised guard back into his fellow soldiers. The second guard fell quicker than the first, but then Relam found himself facing the last two foes simultaneously.
The prince turned and put his back to the battlements so that he couldn’t be outflanked. The only problem was, he now had no room to give ground. Every blow had to be parried and deflected, and he was facing two professional warriors, men chosen specifically for their skill with a sword.
Relam parried desperately with his sword and blocked other strokes with his borrowed shield, slanting it in hopes that the lack of resistance would knock one of his opponents off balance. All the while, Relam searched for an opening, hoping there would be a gap he could take advantage of with a quick thrust. But no such openings appeared, and Relam was tiring quickly. He’d fought in several short battles, while his opponents were relatively fresh and far more experienced.
“Hey! Hello up there!”
Relam ducked a swipe from the guard on his left and chanced a glance over his shoulder. Below him was the main gate to the Citadel, and the River Road. And two familiar figures, peering upwards, their mouths slightly open.
“Tar!” Relam shouted. “I’m a little busy at the moment.” He deflected a thrust from the other guard and shoved back with his shield, trying to gain some space to maneuver. But the first guard closed in again before Relam could take advantage.
“What’s going on?” he heard Yavvis shout from the ground. “We heard fighting!”
“And you’re going to keep hearing fighting,” Relam shouted back. “The Citadel has betrayed the kingdom. Oreius-” Relam broke off to execute a particularly complicated defense, then kept talking. “Oreius is fighting D’Arnlo right now!”
“D’Arnlo!” Agath shouted. “Any chance you can get us in to help?”
“Not unless you have a rope.”
“We’ll get one,” Yavvis promised. “Just hold on a little longer.”
“Great,” Relam muttered. He glanced at his opponents. “You would be fine with taking a break for a minute or two, wouldn’t you? My arms are killing me.”
“Sorry,” one guard grunted. “I’d rather finish this before the sword masters return.”
“Me too,” the other agreed. “You can’t stop D’Arnlo now, boy. He’s too powerful. And when we bring him your head, we will be rewarded.”
“Tell you what, you bring me D’Arnlo’s head, and I’ll reward you,” Relam replied, gasping for breath.
“Not good enough.”
“I’ll extra reward you?” Relam offered.
“Not a chance.”
“In that case-”
Relam broke off as a three-pronged grapnel soared past his head and landed with a clank on the stone walkway. Someone below hauled in on the rope trailing from it and the grapnel slid, then came up against the wall and held.
The young prince straddled the rope, trying to keep the guards from cutting it, and poured everything he had into defending from their questing blades. There was no need to pace himself now. Reinforcements were on the way. All he had to do was hold on long enough-
Relam stepped forward, buying a little bit of space, and trod on the head of the grapnel. He stumbled, slipped, and fell awkwardly, just managing to avoid impaling himself on his own sword. One of his opponents’ blades swept harmlessly overhead, but the other opened a long, shallow wound across Relam’s left thigh. Relam grabbed at the wound, yelling aloud in pain, and struck at the guards’ ankles with his sword, covering himself with the shield as best he could.
Then, a dark figure blocked the sky as it soared over Relam and bulled into the two guards, driving them back. A second quickly followed the first, wading into battle with sword and shield at the ready. Relam watched in awe as Tar and Yavvis cut down the Citadel guards in a matter of seconds.
“Sorry it took so long,” Tar said, kneeling besid
e Relam while Yavvis kept watch. “How bad is it?”
“It’s not deep, but it hurts,” Relam said through clenched teeth.
Tar tore a strip from his own shirt and bound it tightly around Relam’s leg. “There, can you walk?” he asked hopefully, looking around. “We have to get you out of here.”
“No, we have to get D’Arnlo,” Relam muttered, standing shakily, using the battlements for support.
“We’ll handle D’Arnlo,” Yavvis replied. “Tar, Oreius and I, that is. You need to get to safety. This place is full of the finest warriors, lad.”
“I’ve fought and killed some of them already.”
“Yes, but there are hundreds more. Word will be spreading, we could hear the fighting from Tar’s training ground.”
“Is any more help coming?” Relam asked hopefully.
“We’re it, for now,” Yavvis replied, shaking his head.
“Then we need to get to D’Arnlo and capture him, before he can muster all his forces and crush us,” Relam muttered. “Narin, Cevet, Sebast, Jatt, Delan, and Knet are in the seventh level courtyard, guarding a few prisoners we took. Or, at least, they were when-”
“Narin?” Yavvis interrupted. “I thought he was dead. Your father had him executed.”
Relam shook his head. “I helped Narin fake his death. He’s been in hiding since then.”
“You faked an execution?”
“We can discuss this later,” Tar interrupted. “Where are Oreius and D’Arnlo now?”
“Battlements on the other side of this tower,” Relam replied. “But a few dozen guards are that way too. They came running through a door that lets out onto the walkway.”
“That would be a barracks,” Yavvis replied briefly.
“That explains a lot,” Relam muttered, wincing.
“And that’s another one, there,” Yavvis added, pointing to a door further along the walkway.
As he spoke, the door flew open and armed men came tumbling out, looking around wildly.
“Run,” Agath said briefly, shoving Relam towards the southwest tower.
“To ground level,” Yavvis said, covering their retreat. “That gives us more options.”
Relam shoved through the tower door and stopped abruptly. In his haste to escape the new threat out on the walkway, he had forgotten that he had come through this tower earlier. Most of the guards seemed to have gone straight through, but five still lingered. As Relam and Tar entered, they had drawn their swords and advanced.
Yavvis shoved through the door behind them and slammed it shut, ramming the bolt home to secure it. “There,” he panted, turning around. Relam heard a sharp intake of breath, then the sword master spoke again.
“I thought we left them all out there,” he said mildly, looking around at the five unfamiliar faces.
“Not quite,” Relam muttered. “These are the ones that followed me earlier.”
“And Oreius is through that door there?” Tar asked, raising his sword.
“Last I saw,” Relam agreed.
“Then we’d better get through to him,” Yavvis said, stepping forth. “We’ll handle this, your majesty.”
“Two on five is hardly fair odds,” Agath observed.
“For the five,” Yavvis agreed. The Citadel guards took an involuntary half step back at that, looking around nervously. “Are you ready, my old friend?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Yavvis and Tar leapt forward, striking with the speed and ferocity of a pair of snakes. The Citadel guards backed away, towards the door. They quickly ran out of space though, and were pinned up by the two sword masters with nowhere to run. Yavvis and Tar fought with brutal efficiency, striking left right and center, trading off opponents seamlessly. The Citadel guards, utterly bewildered, did not put up much of a fight. The first two fell in seconds, closely followed by their comrades. In less than a minute, a mound of dead and wounded men was heaped in front of the door.
“That was terrifying,” Relam said, stepping forward now that the fight was over.
“They were scared,” Agath said, shrugging. “Scared men are easier to beat. But they’re still in our way.”
“We can pile them by the other door,” Relam suggested. “Delay those guards a little longer.”
“Good idea,” Yavvis said, sheathing his sword. Reaching down, he grabbed a wounded man by the ankle and began dragging him to the opposite end of the room. The injured guard whimpered and moaned, crying out piteously, but Yavvis paid him no heed. Meanwhile, Tar grabbed two of the slain and dragged them over to the far door as well.
As soon as the guards had been moved, Yavvis and Tar put their shoulders to the door, Relam behind them. “When we get out there, let us handle the fighting,” Tar instructed, looking at Relam. “You’re the best student I’ve ever had, Relam. But D’Arnlo is a master. You’ll never stand up to him in a fight.”
“Even with you three distracting him?”
“Yes,” Yavvis said, nodding gravely. “He’s tricky that one. All it takes is one mistake. Now, let’s go.”
Tar shouldered the door open and the two masters bounded through the opening, swords drawn, Relam close behind. But they were confronted with an empty walkway. There was no sign of Oreius or D’Arnlo, no bloodstains, no fallen weapons, nothing.
The three looked at each other and shrugged. “I guess we have to keep looking,” Yavvis said. “Where could they have got to I wonder?”
“There’s another barracks and walkway through that tower,” Tar said, pointing to the square tower occupying the far corner of the Citadel.
“You think that D’Arnlo retreated that way for reinforcements?” Relam asked.
“Possible,” Yavvis agreed. “You know, I feel vaguely cheated right now.”
“Maybe the others will know,” Relam muttered, looking up at the battlements ringing the seventh level courtyard. “At the very least we would have a better vantage point from up there.”
“The fastest way there is down through the tower we just left, across the entrance hall and back up the central tower,” Yavvis told him, turning back towards the tower.
“No,” Relam said. “The fastest way up there is the roof. Give me a boost Tar.”
“Of course, your majesty,” Tar said agreeably, cupping his hands and kneeling.
Relam took a running start, stepped in the master’s cupped hands, and launched himself upward, grabbing for the roofline. He latched onto it with both hands and hauled himself up painfully, the wound in his thigh protesting the flurry of movement. Immediately, a pair of hands appeared below Relam, grasping the edge as well.
“Coming Yavvis?” he heard Tar ask.
“I don’t get a boost?”
“Not unless you can convince one of those guards we left on the other wall to lend a hand.”
“Here,” Relam grunted, leaning down and extending a hand to Yavvis. “Maybe we can pull you up.”
“I’ll manage,” the sword master replied. “I just need a running start.”
Yavvis backed up a few paces, then ran and leaped, his hands closing on the edge of the roof. He swung his legs up and around, ending up crouched parallel to the edge of the roof.
“See, easy!” Yavvis said, grinning.
“You wouldn’t catch me doing that with a four story drop on the other side of the battlements,” Relam muttered.
“Nor I,” Tar agreed. “Come on, we need to get up this roof and see what’s what. Go carefully, move one hand or foot at a time. Wouldn’t want to have anybody go sliding back down.”
“Yeah,” Relam gulped, his throat constricting. “That would be bad.” Immediately, he felt his palms begin to sweat and lose purchase on the slick tiles. He went to dry his hands on his chest, then remembered what Tar had said about moving too many limbs at once. Very deliberately, he wiped off his left hand, then his right, and placed both back on the roof.
“Easy now,” Tar murmured, beginning to climb to Relam’s left. “This isn’t a race.�
��
“But don’t take too long either,” Yavvis put in.
Relam ignored them and focused on holding on, pressing his hands into the tiles and shifting his left foot up. Then his left hand, right foot, and right hand. Repeat. Inch ever closer to the battlements above. To either side, Tar and Yavvis were moving slightly faster, pulling ahead.
“Take your time, Relam,” Tar said encouragingly. “You’re doing great!”
“Just don’t look down,” Yavvis advised.
And, as soon as the sword master said it, Relam looked back the way he had come. Low to the roof as he was, he could no longer see the battlemented walkway below. All he could see was the edge of the roof and the ground beyond, far below.
Relam’s head swam and his palms began sweating again and he felt himself sliding. Quickly, he dug in with his feet, wiping one hand, then the other. Then, he took a deep breath and kept climbing. Above, Tar and Yavvis were swinging over the battlements and onto the seventh level courtyard.
“Clear!” Tar called. “Just the lordlings and Narin.”
“Good,” Relam panted. “Any chance you can give me a lift?”
Tar and Yavvis leaned over the battlements, each extending a hand to Relam. The young prince extended one hand and grabbed Tar’s forearm, then extended the other hand to Yavvis.
“Got you!” Yavvis crowed. “Now, keep pushing with your feet, otherwise we’ll be dragging you across the tiles and that won’t feel good for anybody.”
Relam pushed with his feet while Tar and Yavvis tugged. In moments, Relam was up and over the battlements, and once again on a solid, horizontal floor. Not solid ground, but it would do for the moment.
“Thanks,” Relam muttered, leaning over and trying to catch his breath.
“Relam!” Cevet cried running over. “What happened? Where’s Oreius?”
“You haven’t seen him?” Relam asked.
“Not since you two went over the edge, Sebast said, joining them. “Where did these two come from?”
The Prince (Heirs of Legacy Book 1) Page 50