Steelhaven 02 - The Shattered Crown

by Richard Ford

  Kaira felt unusually sluggish. Her injuries still troubled her, but she had to act.

  The creature dragged its huge bulk ever closer to the queen, batting some unfortunate courtier from its path and sending him smashing into a pile of loose masonry.

  Tannick bellowed to his men who rushed forward, chopping at the trunk of the ash tree and hacking at its flailing branches. White gore seeped from the creature, but still it battled on, tearing a path through the bronze-armoured knights that stood against it.

  They would never stop it before it reached Janessa.

  ‘Get the queen to safety!’ Kaira yelled desperately.

  Merrick tore his eyes away from the creature, grabbing the queen and pulling her from the dais. There was no way he could reach the exit from the amphitheatre, which was blocked by the monster’s approach, so he guided Janessa into the crumbling tunnels of the arena, followed by several other Sentinels.

  Kaira turned back to the foul monster, and saw its onslaught had been checked by the knights, but they looked unable to destroy it. They could never defeat such a creature; surely a thing born of such dark magicks would kill them all. She briefly wondered where in the hells that magistra had got to, but then all thought but battle was gone from her mind.

  Gripping her sword tight, Kaira rushed to join the defenders.

  FORTY-FOUR

  It had dragged itself out of the ground with the sound of a thousand breaking bones. Merrick had watched as it turned its giant creaking head, pulling itself along on rotten twisted limbs. It wasn’t until the killing started, and Kaira screamed at him, that anyone had moved.

  And that was when Merrick grabbed Janessa’s arm. Regardless of protocol, it seemed the right thing to do. He all but dragged her down from the wooden podium, slipping on the bottom step, almost sending them both sprawling.

  The exit from the amphitheatre was across the arena floor. There were around a dozen knights in the way, their weapons flailing.

  Merrick pulled the queen after him towards a gap in the broken wall. Odaka and two more Sentinels were right behind them, and that made him feel a little better. The break in the wall led to a crumbling stone passage. Merrick could see through the rotted mortar of the stone wall to the other side, to freedom, but there was no way through.

  ‘Keep moving,’ growled Odaka.

  Merrick didn’t have any quarrel with that, and he hauled the queen along the corridor. For her part, she made no complaint, following as best she could as the passageway reached a set of stairs. Merrick paused at the bottom.

  ‘Up,’ Odaka ordered. ‘We will guard the way here.’

  As Odaka and the two Sentinels took up positions, Merrick dragged the queen after him. Outside he could hear the sounds of battle; someone was screaming, there was a clash of steel on wood and something roared like a beast.

  The staircase led to a rickety platform with passageways that led off to either side. Merrick picked a path, the one he thought might lead away from the carnage and pulled Janessa after him.

  You’ve got no idea what you’re doing or where you’re going, have you? Get a fucking grip.

  The passage darkened before they came out into another room, one with no exits. Merrick stopped dead. On the ground was the body of an armoured knight, a Sentinel. There was a single puncture wound in his breastplate, right above the heart.

  Whoever had killed this Sentinel might still be around and Merrick was none too keen to meet him. He turned, ready to flee back down the stairs, but stopped as someone walked out of the dark passage behind them. For a moment he hoped it was Odaka, come to find him and tell him everything was going to be all right.

  Inside, he knew it wouldn’t be.

  The man was old, too old to have such a confident gait. His shoulders were wide, his hair and beard greying, but his eyes … those eyes were like two deep pools of winter staring out coldly as if they hated the world and would turn it to ice.

  Merrick backed away, Janessa behind him, but there was nowhere else to go. They were trapped.

  The old man held a sword at his side, the blade straight, the handle worked in a fashion Merrick had never seen before. He got the impression that, despite his age, this fella knew how to use it.

  ‘No closer,’ Merrick said, brandishing his own sword. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  The old man took two steps forward and stopped. ‘You won’t hurt me, boy. I am the Father of Killers. There is nothing you can do that would hurt me. But I have not come for you, I have come for—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I get the picture.’ Merrick dropped into a defensive stance. ‘You’ve come to kill the queen, blah blah. I’m going to stop you, blah blah. Let’s just get on with the fucking fighting, shall we.’

  This seemed to amuse the old man, who walked forward, his guard down.

  Never squander an opportunity, Ryder.

  Merrick leapt to attack, feeling not a little guilty for taking his opponent by surprise. It didn’t matter anyway, as the old man batted the thrust aside, his sword coming up in a counter that Merrick struggled to avoid. He stumbled back as the blade almost took his eye out.

  This was looking all too familiar. He’d had his fill of being humiliated by better swordsmen, he couldn’t let this old man join the list.

  Merrick struck again, this time totally focused. This time he’d make no mistake. Everything he’d learned from House Tarnath—

  The old man parried again, and this time Merrick’s blade almost flew from his grip. He was forced to dance back to stay out of the old man’s range, Janessa moving along behind, staying at Merrick’s back.

  ‘There is nothing you can do,’ said the Father of Killers. ‘The end is inevitable. I will allow you to walk free. Leave your queen and I will let—’

  Merrick struck in again. This time he managed to put a slice in the old man’s robe, but the consequent counter was more ferocious than before. Merrick staggered back into the wall. He pushed Janessa out of the way as his opponent’s sword cut in, taking a chunk out of the ancient stone behind him.

  The Father of Killers moved like a phantom, in one place one moment, somewhere else the next. Merrick struck in again and again, but every blow was parried with ease. He thrust one last time and the old man’s blade knocked the sword out of Merrick’s grip. It clanged off the wall and came to rest some feet away and the Father of Killers bore down on him, each footstep carefully placed, his eyes never wavering from their immediate target.

  ‘You have shown surprising courage in the face of certain death,’ said the old man.

  ‘Trust me – no one’s more surprised than I am,’ Merrick replied.

  The Father of Killer’s raised his blade.

  Odaka Du’ur burst in through the archway with a savage cry. He was like an animal, his curved blade scything in and giving the Father of Killers little time to parry.

  ‘Run!’ Odaka screamed. Merrick needed no further encouragement.

  He grabbed Janessa’s hand and pulled her from the room. The sound of clashing swords rang out behind him as they fled.

  FORTY-FIVE

  He had failed his warriors and led them to an ignominious death. The knowledge that they would die by the executioner’s blade filled him with a shame greater than he had ever known. So when the fell monster dragged itself from the ground, Regulus Gor’s heart had leapt. No longer would they be slaughtered for the delight of a baying mob. At least now they would die at the hands of a worthy opponent.

  It had to reach them first, though, had to destroy those who stood against it. Regulus admired the warriors in bronze as they fought. They were organised, disciplined and died with honour.

  He strained against his bonds as he watched, yearning to join them, but he could do nothing. Beside them the axeman, who moments earlier had been ready to lop Janto’s head from his shoulders, stood dumbstruck, his axe held limp in his hand. What Regulus would have done for that weapon, for the chance to leap from the scaffold and take the fight to his enemy –
to die a warrior’s death.

  As the Zatani watched helplessly, one of the soldiers in green ran towards them. Regulus realised it was Nobul Jacks, the one he had spoken to back in his cell. He looked angered. Someone was arguing with him, trying to pull him back, but could only do so in vain.

  Nobul came to stand before Regulus, staring with apprehension but little fear. Then he unclasped the mask that held Regulus’ jaws fast.

  ‘Will you still fight for us?’ he said. Regulus stared at him, aware of the carnage being reaped in the arena beyond. ‘Will you fight for us now?’

  Regulus smiled grimly. He had put his trust in these Coldlanders once and it had led him here, to be killed for the entertainment of a crowd. Could he really trust them now?

  What does it matter? Say yes and take your freedom, to die here with a weapon in hand and blood on your lips.

  ‘Yes, Nobul Jacks. I will fight for you.’

  Nobul grabbed the keys and unlocked the manacles that held Regulus. Once released, Regulus stood to full height, looking down at Nobul. He could tell the Coldlander was ready to defend himself if he had to.

  ‘My warriors and I will fight for you,’ he said. ‘But I will have the honour of entering battle first.’

  With that he turned to the executioner. The man took a step back, holding his axe up as though it could shield him. Regulus wrested the axe from the hooded man’s hands and leapt from the wooden scaffold.

  He landed deftly and sprinted towards the fray. The great beast swung a writhing branch, sending gore and shattered armour flying.

  With a roar, Regulus leapt past the armoured warriors in their desperate fight. He raised the axe high, bringing it down with a solid hacking sound against the thick wooden limb and the monstrosity raised its head high in a silent cry of pain. It struck out before Regulus could dodge away, and he was sent spinning through the air, somehow managing to hold onto the axe as it was wrenched free of the creature’s flesh.

  He landed heavily and the great monster bore down on him. Regulus leapt to his feet and braced himself, awaiting the onslaught. Before the creature could raise another massive branch to smite him, more figures rushed to join the fray.

  Leandran leapt at the monster. He had found a fallen blade, and now raised it high. Akkula held a spear and rushed in low, impaling the creature’s trunk while Leandran hacked at its thickest flailing arm.

  Regulus flushed with pride, then joined them, rushing forward, his axe cutting in with swift staccato blows as he hacked at the monster, trying to fell it like the tree it had once been.

  The trunk of the creature cracked as it twisted in an attempt to shake off the Zatani. Hagama rushed in then, adding another spear to the attack, screaming all the while as though the breath of his lungs had been put there by the Lord of the Wilds himself.

  One of the bronze-armoured knights was quick to rejoin the fray, his sword flashing as he sliced great gouges out of the monster before moving out of range each time it had a chance to counter.

  Regulus ducked, narrowly avoiding a great branch which swept down to smash him into the earth. Leandran was not so lucky. The monster grasped the warrior in a wooden limb and raised him high. Still Leandran battled, roaring in defiance right up until the creature smashed him into the ground head first. He lay there silent and unmoving. Regulus screamed in fury, his yell joined by Janto’s as he raced past, leaping upon the creature’s head and rending with tooth and claw.

  Enraged at seeing one of their number so cruelly vanquished, the Zatani resumed their onslaught, more ferociously than ever. So furious was their assault that any bronze-armoured Coldlanders between them and the monster were forced to retreat from their path. Try as it might the monster could not land a blow on the Zatani. They attacked furiously then darted aside, moving with practised ease, each of them instinctively knowing what the others would do, where they would be, how they would fight.

  Regulus came at the creature from the rear, his axe hacking the roots that supported it. The beast buckled, losing balance as it was tipped over by the spears of Hagama, Kazul and Akkula. Still Janto clung to the creature’s face, bark and white gore flying every which way as he tore at it.

  ‘Janto!’ Regulus shouted.

  As Janto looked up Regulus flung him the headsman’s axe. The Zatani caught it deftly, raising it high with a roar before bringing it down to hack the head from the creature.

  Still the monster writhed on the ground, spewing white gore. Regulus and his warriors stood back as the armoured Coldlanders rushed in, to hack the downed beast to kindling.

  Regulus looked at the crumpled figure of Leandran, and saw Akkula already knelt at his side. The young Zatani looked up as Regulus approached.

  ‘He has already gone on his way to the stars.’

  The thrill of victory ebbed as Regulus looked down at the old warrior. Leandran had been a teacher to Regulus for many years, and his heart ached at the loss. There was no sorrow, though, no tears. Leandran had fought well and met his death as any Gor’tana should – in battle. It was a worthy end.

  Once the sound of hacking had subsided and the beast was destroyed, a voice rose up over the calm.

  ‘What are you doing? To arms! These criminals must be subdued!’

  Regulus looked up to see a hooded figure he recognised. Rogan, he had called himself. The man was pointing an accusing finger at the Zatani.

  ‘To your feet,’ Regulus ordered, and his warriors moved to stand beside him. Janto’s eyes were ablaze, his lust for battle far from sated.

  One of the warriors in bronze, his helm bearing two mighty wings, took a step forward. ‘These men have just helped us defeat a foe that would have murdered us all, Seneschal. You cannot seriously want them clapped in irons?’

  ‘They are dangerous. Murderers,’ said Rogan. ‘I demand that—’

  ‘Demand?’ said the warrior. ‘You demand?’

  Regulus could see the other men in bronze moving to their leader’s side, as ready for another fight as Janto was.

  ‘I think they’ve proved their loyalty,’ said a voice behind him.

  Regulus saw it was Nobul Jacks who had spoken. He could not help but like this man. Could not help but think he was as honourable as his name suggested.

  ‘This proves nothing. These creatures are dangerous enemies of the Free States,’ said Rogan. ‘They have been condemned.’

  ‘They’ve shown where their allegiance lies,’ said Nobul. ‘Look.’ He gestured at the fallen monster.

  It was then the top of the amphitheatre exploded in a shower of stone.

  FORTY-SIX

  Merrick pulled her up the worn stone stairs and Janessa clung to his hand as if her life depended on it. They came out onto another platform. Half the wall had collapsed and she could see out onto her city. It may as well have been a thousand miles away for all the good it would do her – there was no way down but for a hundred-foot drop.

  ‘We have to go back,’ Janessa said.

  Merrick looked around him, breathing heavily, his eyes wide. He knew they were trapped. ‘You’re right,’ he said.

  He made his way back down the stairs but stopped suddenly as a figure made its way up. Janessa could barely look, could barely regard those stone-cold eyes without feeling their ice in her heart. There was no warmth about this man, just the chill of death.

  ‘You have led me a merry dance,’ said the Father of Killers in a voice like silk on steel. ‘But it is now over.’

  ‘Not another step,’ Merrick said, standing before Janessa.

  The Father of Killers smiled, but there was no humour there.

  ‘You have no weapon. There is nothing you can do but die.’

  Merrick backed away from the old man and the sword he carried that was dripping blood onto the stone. Janessa’s heart gave a sickening lurch as she thought of Odaka fighting the Father of Killers so that they might flee – that the blood on that blade could well be his.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’d be willing to
fight me unarmed?’ Merrick said hopefully.

  The old man’s smile was gone as quick as it had come. He raised his sword, and Janessa held her breath.

  Something clattered up the stairs. The Father of Killers turned to face the young man who had appeared, his face flushed, his robes dishevelled. Janessa recognised him as the Magistra’s apprentice. The young boy rushed between Merrick and the Father of Killers.

  ‘What are you doing, lad?’ Merrick said.

  ‘Trust me,’ replied the apprentice, taking a deep breath.

  Then he screamed at the old man as if it might blow him off the platform.

  Nothing happened.

  The Father of Killer’s face twisted in frustration. He stepped forward, his blade poised to strike.

  ‘Get out of the fucking way,’ Merrick barked, pushing the boy aside. The point of the assassin’s blade took him in the centre of his breastplate, the keen edge slicing through the steel plate as if it were parchment.

  Janessa watched in horror as Merrick staggered to one side, clutching at his chest, his brow furrowed in pain. He was clearly trying to remain standing, but there was no strength left in his legs.

  The young lad’s face was twisted in fear and disbelief.

  The Father of Killers ignored them both, his attention now fully fixed on Janessa.

  ‘Shall we continue?’ he said, like he was asking her to dance.

  It was obvious no one else was coming to help Janessa. There was the sound of roaring from the arena below. The sound of weapons and battle. The rest of her Sentinels were all too preoccupied to save her now. The daemonic creature raised in the amphitheatre had been a diversion, the real threat hidden all along. Janessa had to admire how clever a move that had been.

  ‘This will not seal Amon Tugha’s victory,’ she said, trying to stand up straight and proud.

  ‘No,’ said the old man. ‘But it will help.’ He took a step forward then stopped, looking at her askance. He regarded her with curiosity, as though he was weighing her up, judging her worthiness. ‘Just one final question. What did you do to my son, River, to turn him against me?’