Eric strode over to the wall, pressed his hand against a particular space, and a massive hatch opened in the centre of the stone wall. “Come on,” he said, bitterly. Hind followed him into the passageway. “Sir Pellaeon?”
“I'm staying here,” Sir Pellaeon reminded him, dryly. “You get out of here, now.”
The sound of fighting in the distance broke over them. “Now,” Sir Pellaeon repeated, waving his men – and some of the Lords – into defensive positions. “Go!”
Hind watched as the hatch closed itself behind them, leaving them in the darkness. A moment later, a faint glow started to shimmer down from above, revealing that they were in a stone passageway sloping downwards. Eric had told her that the Golden Palace was riddled with secret tunnels, but it was the first time that she had ever seen one. She had planned to push him into showing her around after their honeymoon. If half of the stories were true, they could walk from one end of the castle to the other without being seen by anyone else.
“Come on,” she said, watching Eric carefully. He was a good man – a bad man wouldn’t have hesitated to abandon his sister and his guards, the guards who were now fighting to buy him time to escape – and she could taste his shame at having to run. “One day, we will come back.”
Eric took her hand and clasped it tightly, before they started to run.
Chapter Ten
Master Reginald could hear the sounds of fighting as he and his guards swept into the Golden Palace, pausing only to secure a handful of prisoners. The sorcerers following him had linked their power to his, forming a shield that moved over the guards as they advanced into enemy territory, but it was barely challenged. The wards were gone and, with them, the Royal Guard’s will to resist. A handful of men fought hopeless battles against overwhelming odds – a Knight of the Golden Order led seven men in a desperate last stand before a single spell killed him and his companions – but they all knew that the game was up. The Golden Palace had fallen into enemy hands.
He felt the magic boiling within him, seeking a target. It had been so long since he had set foot in any such building, but the hatred and resentment that had been brewing within him had festered since he had been banished from the Academy. His parents had been publicly supportive, but in private they had turned on him, warning him to stay well away from their hands. Only Duke Herod had been willing to take him in and teach him some of the secrets that had long been hidden from the common herd. Between them, they had overthrown a dynasty that had ruled for thousands of years.
“The guards are making their final stand in the Great Hall,” one of his escorts reported, touching the side of his head. Without the wards, the Royal Guard had no way to block magical communication, or to use it for themselves. The forces racing into the Golden Palace could coordinate their actions. The defenders had been isolated into tiny groups. One by one, they would be slaughtered or captured, as the whim took him. “They’re trying to hold us off.”
Reginald smiled. “Not a hope in hell,” he said, coldly. The magic within him surged at his words. “Lead us to the fighting.”
The defensive position was stronger than he had expected, he had to admit. There was only one set of doors into the Great Hall and they were all guarded by experienced swordsmen, while the corridors were designed to make it difficult for more than a handful of men to approach at any one time. It would have worked very well in a world without magic, but without a magician of their own, the defenders were at a grave disadvantage. Reginald felt the magic raging up within him and he focused it, throwing it out towards the enemy. A mighty wind swept up in the passageway and roared down towards the defenders, sending them staggering back or knocking them to the ground. Reginald could have burned them all to ash, but Herod had insisted – ordered – that they take as many prisoners as possible. The more Lords and Ladies who survived the coup, the more who could be convinced to see matters the right way.
He watched as his guards ran forwards, slamming into the defenders before they could recover from the wind. A handful of guards were slaughtered quickly, while others stood and fought savagely...but the outcome was no longer in doubt. A knight wearing golden armour fought desperately, using his sword and shield to keep his tormenters back, yet even he couldn't stand for long. Reginald lifted his hand, carefully shaped raw magic around his fingers, and projected it towards the Knight. The golden suit of armour provided some protection against magic, but it couldn't hold out against such an attack. Enough magic leaked through to leave the Knight lying on the floor, his arms and legs utterly immobile. And, with that, the fighting was over.
“Secure the prisoners,” Reginald ordered, sharply. Some of the Lords and Ladies gathered in the room had been in on the plot from the start, but he had orders to treat them just as he would treat the others. Most of them would probably join the winning side, given time to realise that the old order had been destroyed, yet there was no point in taking chances. Some of the survivors, he realised, had been allies of the late Emperor. Herod would want to deal with them personally.
There was little resistance from the shell-shocked Lords and Ladies. They had been lords and masters of all they surveyed until their world had come tumbling down. They’d even been forced to watch as others of their numbers were slaughtered. Reginald knew that they would have watched and laughed if it had only been commoners killed in the fighting, but aristocrats? Aristocrats didn't like to watch each other dying. It might give the commoners ideas. The guards herded them together, searched them roughly and relieved them of any weapons, before ordering them to remain still and keep quiet. For the moment, they complied.
Reginald left the guards to deal with the prisoners and moved from body to body, inspecting each of the dead. There was no point in trying to preserve any of them for necromancy, for they had died long before his forces had raged into the chamber. Whatever power had been within them at the moment of their deaths was gone. He checked each body carefully, looking for three in particular. The Emperor’s still form – he noted, with a worried frown, that the knife that had killed him was missing – was easy to recognise, but there was no sign of either Prince Eric or Mistress Hind. He looked down at the Emperor’s body and paused. The sword at his belt, the sword that he hadn’t had a chance to draw, was glowing with magic.
Carefully, almost without being aware of his body’s movements, Reginald reached out and touched the blade. There was a flash of light and he found himself lying back on the floor, his entire body aching. He had heard of some weapons that were enchanted to prevent anyone, but their owner from using them, yet he was sure that this was something different. He reached out again, opening his third eye, and saw a complex pattern of age-old magic, reaching down into the sword. He pulled off his cloak, wrapped the sword in the cloth, and slung it over his shoulder.
“All right,” he said, turning to look at one of the ladies. Lady Viva had been one of his tormentors, back when he had been young and foolish; she was a silly older woman whose word had determined what was In or Out every season. Now, she was shaking in fear and outrage, feeling genuinely threatened for the first time in her life. If she had been born a man, her mouth would have earned her a thousand duels, but as a woman – and one of the richest and most influential women in the Empire – she had never been truly threatened. It was a new sensation for her. “Where is the Prince?”
He had wondered if she would try to resist, but she didn't even attempt to mislead him. “He went down a secret passage,” she said, ignoring the attempt by two other lords to stop her from speaking. Reginald nodded to his guards and the two lords were brutally and efficiently beaten. “He went through that wall there.”
Reginald followed her pointing finger. The wall looked solid, but where magic was concerned, that could never be taken for granted. Leaving Lady Viva behind to stare at the two bleeding bodies, he stood up and walked over to the wall, running his fingers over the cold stone. Someone had built this part of the Golden Palace out of the raw stone of the moun
tain, rather than transporting in materials from across the Empire. It felt solid, yet...he concentrated, reaching out with his third eye, and sensed a tiny series of weaknesses within the wall. If there were a secret passageway – and Lady Viva had been too scared to lie – it had to be there.
He lifted his hand and blasted the wall with magic, feeling the rock crumble under his beating. A secret passageway was revealed beyond the dust, leading down into the bowels of the castle...and perhaps outside the walls. It didn't take a genius to realise that Prince Eric had to be trying to get out of the castle before the noose tightened around his neck. There was no point in trying to organise resistance any longer.
“Get the prisoners down to the ballroom and leave them there,” he ordered some of his guards. “The rest of you can start searching these passageways and find out where they lead.”
***
Hind heard the dull rumble from up above as Eric led her further down into the complex network of passages under the Golden Palace. Someone had found the entrance to the secret passageway, which meant that they would be having company very soon. She tensed, wishing that she could wash the blood off her soul, wincing at the tiredness washing her thoughts away.
Blood Rites, she thought, grimly. It was all she could do to remain focused. Magic ran in bloodlines and certain particular bloodlines could be used to do extraordinary acts of magic. They could be used to find someone, or curse an enemy, or even short out someone’s magic, if only for a few seconds. The blood might have been on her dress, the one she’d left behind in the Great Hall, but she still felt it on her soul. Working any kind of magic was going to be very difficult, at least for a few hours. They used Blood Rites against me.
Blood Rites weren’t exactly banned, not like necromancy, but they were regarded as dangerously close to dark magic. Hind knew some rituals that could be used, yet her tutors had drummed it into her head, time and time again, that they were not to be used except in gravest emergency. Most Master Magicians wouldn't use Blood Rites even if they were in grave danger, fearing the effects on their soul. The fact that someone had been willing to use a Blood Rite so...carelessly was alarming. If their enemy was prepared to do that, what else might he do?
She looked down at Eric’s back as they reached a wooden door set within the stone passageway. Eric pressed his hand to the knob and Hind felt a tiny flicker of magic, checking his identity before allowing him into the massive room. He waved for her to follow him and she found herself in a chamber of weapons. There were swords, knives, axes, daggers and several odd-looking weapons she couldn't even begin to identify. The air smelt as if no one had been into the chamber for years, yet each of the weapons was in perfect condition, as if they had only been cleaned yesterday.
“One of my family’s secrets,” Eric said, as he picked up a handful of weapons. Hind accepted a knife belt and buckled it around her waist, pulling her undergarments tightly around her. Whoever had stocked up the room hadn't thought to include clothes suitable for woman warriors. Eric took another sword, some armoured underclothes and a large sack of gold and silver coins. “If I could bring an army back here...”
He shook his head. “We have to get out of the castle,” he said, bitterly. Hind could feel the frustration and helpless rage burning through him, but his voice was surprisingly even. “If we can get down to the Golden City, we might be able to figure out what’s actually happening.”
Hind nodded...and then a wave of dizziness almost sent her falling to the stone floor. “Hind,” Eric said. She sensed his alarm through the ring. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Hind said. She swayed again and Eric caught her arm. Too late, she remembered the ring and how Eric would be able to feel her emotions. The bone-numbing tiredness burning through her was urging her to sleep. “I think...”
“You’re not all right,” Eric said, flatly. She could feel his worry and alarm. If he had to remain with her, they would be caught by the men they could hear making their way through the passageways. If he had to abandon her, or carry her, one or both of them would be caught. “I’m not leaving you here.”
Hind made her decision. “Put me down on the ground,” she ordered. Eric blinked at her tone, but obeyed, allowing her to lie face-down on the floor. Hind sensed his puzzlement as she started to remember a spell, one she had been warned should not be used unless there was no other choice. She pushed her hands as hard against the stone ground as she could and focused her mind, mumbling the spell under her breath. A wave of energy washed through her, banishing the tiredness, and she leapt to her feet, grinning. Her body seemed to be buzzing with limitless power. She felt as if she could fight a dozen Master Magicians and win.
Eric was still staring at her. “Hind, what...?”
“Just a little spell,” Hind assured him, gaily. She sobered rapidly. The spell, like all magic, came with a cost. She had roughly six hours before it would all catch up with her and she would have to sleep. By then, they would either have made their escape or they would have been captured or killed. “Come on.”
She took his hand and led him back into the passageways, down towards the lower levels. She could sense the men above them now, hunting blindly through a series of passages that seemed to twist and turn in all directions, but as long as they were moving, they were safe. She was aware of Eric watching her closely – she guessed that he knew what she’d done and what price she would have to pay – yet she ignored it. It dawned on her suddenly that they were at least partly married and they wouldn't have to wait any longer, a thought she rapidly suppressed. Running from the enemy was hardly the time and place!
Eric was still holding her hand when they reached the lowest level of the passageways and encountered a stone wall. Hind could sense different kinds of magic crawling over it, seemingly focused around strange runes someone had carved into the rock years ago. She studied them thoughtfully, but she’d never seen anything like them, not even in one of the Academy textbooks on old and long-forgotten magic and magic-based cultures. So much had been lost over the years, she knew; the Grandmaster had once told her that, centuries ago, magicians had been far more powerful than they were in her era. It seemed unbelievable, but perhaps it was true.
Just for a second, she felt the weight of history pressing down on her. The Golden Palace was old, perhaps older than anyone really understood. Eric had told her a little of its history, but there was so much of it that no one could really grasp it. The secret passages, the hidden store of weapons and other equipment, spoke volumes about the paranoia of the original builders. Just what, she wondered, had convinced them to build so many secrets into the heart of their Empire?
“Here,” Eric said, pressing his hand against the wall. Hind winced as an eye appeared from out of the stone, staring at her with a cold emotionless gaze. She found herself frozen as the eye inspected her, feeling a creepy presence peering into her mind before it moved on to Eric, leaving her shaking in outrage. The eye seemed to find them acceptable and the stone wall melted away, revealing a darkening sky outside. The passageway opened near the road leading up to the Golden Palace, but as they stepped outside, Hind saw a line of men marching up the road. The Palace had been completely taken.
“Duke Herod,” Eric said. Hind winced at the sudden burst of cold fury in his voice. “Those men are wearing Herod’s livery. The bastard shouldn't even have more than a handful of men for thousands of miles around.”
Hind understood what he meant. “It has to be him,” she agreed. She tried to remember what she could of the Duke. He was third in line to the Golden Throne, if she recalled correctly, after a complex series of marriage negotiations that had been taking place before she’d been born. She had only seen him twice, though, and she’d never exchanged words with him. His kingdom, Azimuth, had been on the list of places Eric and her would have visited on their honeymoon. “He’s the one who killed your father.”
She looked up sharply. Eric’s hand was on Morningstar’s hilt, as if he were threate
ning to draw it and throw himself on the band of armed men. Hind caught him and pulled him back into the shadows, trying to distract him before he did something stupid and got them both killed. Eric glared at her as the men faded away into the distance, but he seemed to understand. This was no time for foolish stunts.
“We have to get down to the Golden City,” he said, bitterly. Hind nodded in agreement. If the guards somehow managed to come out of the passageway, they’d be right behind the fugitives. How long would the defences stand up to a dedicated sorcerer? “Come on.”
It took nearly four hours to make their way down to the base of the mountainside and, by then, Hind was on the verge of collapse. The spell was extracting its price early and she was barely aware of her surroundings as Eric brought them into the city, silently grateful that they encountered no one who meant them harm. Eric somehow found them an inn and carried her upstairs, ignoring the sharp looks from the landlord and his prune-faced wife. As soon as he entered their room, he placed Hind on the bed and kissed her forehead.
Hind was asleep before he ended the kiss.
The Black Knife Page 10