The Queen's Blade IV - Sacred Knight of the Veil

by T C Southwell

  Chapter Seventeen

  Minna looked up as a Cotti soldier appeared in the doorway, the blood draining from her cheeks. The man turned and vanished again, and she knew that Blade was in trouble. She did not know how many men guarded her, but evidently it was more than Blade had expected. As the soldier's footsteps receded down the corridor, she glanced at the sand cat.

  "Shista, kill him! Help Blade!"

  The cat leapt up and bounded from the room, ten feet of sleek, deadly muscle. Minna had never ordered her familiar to kill a man before, and the prospect that she might be hurt filled her with dread. If Blade was defeated, however, it would be even worse. She rose to her feet, her legs shaking with weakness after tendays of near starvation. The food she had just eaten had not given her any energy yet. Tottering after the sand cat, she clung to the corridor walls as she made her way to the top of the staircase.

  Shista had caught the soldier on the steps, and had the man's throat in her jaws, throttling him. He kicked and flailed, beating at her in a futile bid to make her release him. Minna turned away from the sickening sight. She longed to order the cat to let him go, but could not. If she was to help Blade and win her freedom, the soldier must die. When she looked again, the man sprawled on the steps, and Shista had gone.

  Minna sidled past the corpse and hurried downstairs as fast as her shaking legs would take her. At the bottom, she found another corridor, and a distant door let in a flood of golden light. Minna walked towards it, forcing her tired legs to carry her when she would rather have sat down and rested. Already a film of sweat sheened her brow, and she gasped.

  By the time she reached the door, her legs were almost buckling under her weight. She peered out into the sunlight, squinting against the glare of the golden sand. Two soldiers stood in the middle of the courtyard, and three corpses lay at their feet. At first she thought that Blade had escaped, then she realised that one of the bodies was his. Now that Shista could not help him, she sent a silent command to recall the cat.

  Moments later, Shista appeared from behind a wall, trotting towards her like a golden wraith. She was so perfectly camouflaged against the sand that she was almost invisible, at home in her element. Slipping into the doorway, she stood beside the Queen and gazed at the men she had almost attacked. The soldiers bent and turned Blade over to examine him. One pulled a leather thong from his pocket and tied the assassin's hands behind his back. Minna's legs almost gave way with relief as she realised that he was not dead, and hope still remained.

  Leaning against the wall, she tried to think, her mind clogged with fatigue. Somewhere in the desert close by, her daughter waited for the assassin to return, and now he would not. Would she come in search of him, or continue to wait? If so, for how long? Minna was too weak to try to find the camp, even if Shista could find and follow Blade's trail. She was loath to give up her freedom, however, so she would hide for as long as possible.

  Turning away, she made her way back down the corridor, leaning against the wall. Perhaps she could reach the edge of the desert and wait there, in the hope of meeting Kerra if she came in search of Blade. Kerra would have horses, on which they could make their escape, although the thought of leaving Blade behind did not appeal to her. Trying to free him may result in their capture though, and she had no idea how many soldiers still remained. Minna passed the staircase and tottered on down the passage, searching for another exit. Shista stalked behind her, huffing through her nose.

  Blade became aware that he was being dragged along a corridor, his arms and legs bound. His head pounded savagely from the blow that had knocked him senseless, but he forced himself to remain limp. As long as they thought him unconscious, his captors were unlikely to abuse him, and might even be lax in guarding him. The soldiers dragged him up the staircase, and stopped to curse when they found a body there. They continued to the room where the nightshift's corpses lay, swearing vilely as they surveyed his handiwork. Dragging him into the room across the hall, they dumped him.

  The one who stood beside him said, "Looks like we're the only ones left, and Bosset."

  Presumably Bosset was the man who had been sent to look for Blade's imaginary horses, and had not returned yet.

  The other man growled, "Go check on that damned woman."

  Silence fell as the first man left, and moments later another man entered, demanding, "What happened?"

  "This bastard killed Captain Drair and all the rest. You, me and Vegar are the only ones left."

  "There weren't any horses around the side."

  "Hardly surprising." Blade sensed someone leaning over him, and a hand tugged his collar open. "He's an assassin, just as Drair thought. Someone must have sent him to free Kerrion's woman."

  Vegar came hurrying back into the room. "She's gone."

  "She can't have got far. You and Bosset go look for her."

  "What about him?" Bosset asked.

  "I'll watch him."

  "Why don't we just kill him?"

  The man who had taken charge paused to consider this. "I'm tempted to, believe me. But we had better send a message to the Prince and let him decide. He might want to question him."

  "What for? He's just a bloody assassin."

  "Think about it. He's Jashimari, sent to free Kerrion's woman. He's killed eight men without getting a scratch on him, and I was lucky to jump him. I think he may be the one they call the Queen's Blade. If he is, he has the girl with him, the one Prince Endor wants so badly. There aren't enough of us to search the oasis for her, but Trelath will want to speak to this bastard, I'm sure."

  After another pause, Bosset asked, "Should I send Crawal to the Prince, then?"

  "Yes."

  Blade deduced that Bosset was the man of crows, and the one who had taken charge must be the man of kestrels. He was glad that Minna had fled into the oasis, but once Trelath arrived with more men, there would be no hope of escape. If she found Kerra, he wondered whether they would flee to Jadaya and leave him. If they did, Trelath would execute him. Bosset and Vegar left to search for the Queen, and the man of kestrels leant over Blade and slapped his face a few times to try to rouse him. Blade kept his eyes closed, and the man gave up, moving away to stand guard by the door.

  Kerra glanced at the sun for the umpteenth time, her worry growing by the time-glass. She had expected Blade to shake her awake at dawn, after his nocturnal reconnoitre, but instead the growing heat as the sun rose had woken her. After feeding the horses, she had settled down to wait, staring at the distant oasis with its trees and shade. The temptation to go there was strong, but if Blade had encountered trouble, she did not wish to stumble into the same trap.

  Then again, if he was in trouble, he might need her help. What help could she offer him, though, if a bunch of soldiers had captured him? Getting captured herself would only add to his problems. She glanced at Myasha, who perched atop a saddle, preening. He turned his head to meet her gaze, and read her silent request. Spreading his wings, he took off across the desert, beating the air to gain altitude as he headed for the oasis.

  After what seemed like time-glasses, he returned, landing on her wrist to communicate what he had seen. The pictures and sensations exploded in Kerra's mind, forcing her to unravel the jumbled images into some sort of coherent train of thought. A ragged woman crouched behind a wall with a sand cat at her side. Two soldiers walked around, peering into nooks and crannies. Two dead men lay in the sun, and a crow flew away across the desert. He had not seen Blade, so the assassin must be in the keep.

  It seemed that he had been captured, or was hiding, and had freed Kerrion's wife, who was also hiding. The two dead men proved that there had been a fight, but it seemed that it had not gone Blade's way this time. The possibility that he was dead made her skin crawl, and she put the thought from her mind. Once more she stared at the oasis, wondering what she should do.

  A large part of her insisted that she must help Blade, while a smaller part told her that to put herself in danger was folly, and log
ic stated that she could not wait here forever. Without Blade, she would fall prey to men in the first town she encountered, if she could find a town. She pondered the woman Myasha had seen. Doubtless she was Kerrion's wife, and the sand cat must be her familiar. Such a large cat could surely kill a man, so why did the stupid woman not let it kill the soldiers who were searching for her?

  Annoyed by her indecision, she jumped up and paced around in the sand, racking her brains for an intelligent solution. She had relied on Blade too much for too long, and now that the burden of planning the next move fell on her, she could not decide what to do. Common sense told her that to go to the oasis in broad daylight would invite capture, yet she worried about what was happening to Blade.

  If he had been captured, the soldiers might torture him, but her chances of freeing him were slim. If he was dead, it made no difference how long she waited, and the darkness would hide her after nightfall. If Kerrion's wife could stay hidden until then, she might be able to rescue the woman and find out what had happened to Blade. His penchant for doing things at night made sense, and she sank down on the sand beside the little tent, her mind made up. She would wait for darkness, and if Blade had not returned by then, she would go to the oasis and see what she could do.

  Blade tested the thong that bound his wrists, finding it tight. The soldiers had not found the daggers in his wrist sheaths, but they were useless while the thong secured his hands. He had lain unmoving for some time now, and parts of his anatomy were growing numb. Opening his eyes a slit, he surveyed what he could see of the room. The soldier stood at the door behind him, and he could only see a window and the rest of the empty room.

  If only the soldier would leave him alone for a few minutes, he would be able to get free. He flexed his muscles, restoring some circulation to those parts of his anatomy that had lost sensation. Perhaps the only way to get free would be to enlist the aid of the soldier who guarded him, in which case playing dead no longer served his purpose. With a groan, he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, twisting his head to look at the soldier by the door. The man straightened and smiled, his eyes brightening with anticipation. He had a typical Cotti face, hawk-like and fierce.

  "So I didn't hit you hard enough to brain you. Prince Trelath will be pleased."

  Blade squirmed around until he faced the man, raising himself on his elbows. "Cotti dog. You should have killed me while you had the chance. Your beloved Trelath is a traitor to his king, and you're the puppet of a traitor. There's only one thing worse than a traitor, and that's the man stupid enough to work for him."

  The Cotti snorted. "How would you know what I am? You're a damned Jashimari."

  "I know that you helped to kidnap your king's wife in typical traitorous Cotti fashion. Do you think he'll thank you for it?"

  "He might when he comes to his senses."

  "Kerrion doesn't have any senses to come to. He's almost as stupid as Trelath, but compared to you, he's a genius. The depth of Cotti stupidity is astounding. You don't need enemies, you turn on one another like mangy dogs fighting over a rotting carcass."

  The Cotti stepped closer, scowling. "My prince has removed the source of great shame. A damned Jashimari whore, who twisted the King's mind and whispered evil words in his ear. She bewitched him and made him weak and impotent. He couldn't even take another wife, as long as she had her claws in him."

  "Trelath is a liar, but you're too stupid to see that. He has spat in the face of Tinsharon by betraying your king." Blade used his knowledge of Cotti beliefs to add weight to his stinging words. "You Cotti believe that Kerrion is King by divine right, so what right does Trelath have to dictate who he should wed?"

  "Prince Trelath sees clearly. His eyes aren't clouded by the spells of a damned Jashimari witch."

  Blade smiled. "Trelath wants the throne for himself, dolt. He knows that if he kills Minna-Satu, Kerrion will be driven mad by grief and kill himself. What he doesn't know is that Kerrion will kill him and Endor first."

  The soldier strode closer and loomed over the assassin, his hands clenched. Clearly he longed to beat Blade, and still might. That was the danger of the tactic Blade used. Provoking a man was always perilous.

  "You know nothing!" he snarled. "My king isn't a fool, he wouldn't die for a damned woman."

  "But he will. He's under a spell, you said so yourself. And your treacherous prince is engineering his downfall."

  "My prince is trying to save him."

  "Trelath is a lying pig."

  The Cotti kicked him in the ribs, making him grunt and curl up. "Do not foul my prince's name with your lies!"

  "Cotti pig," Blade growled. "You wouldn't have the guts to do that if I was free. You're the cowardly spawn of a Cotti swine and his harlot sister. You bugger dogs and pigs because you don't have the balls to screw a woman, she would laugh at your lack. I've heard that your beloved Trelath takes his sport with children, too."

  The soldier's face reddened with rage, and he bent to slap the assassin. "He'll torture you until you beg for mercy, assassin, then send you to Jadaya for public execution, as you deserve."

  Blade spat blood and glared at the soldier. "A Jashimari woman could slap harder than you, you Cotti coward with an inch worm in your pants. At least your next king will be half Jashimari, so he’ll have more courage than your craven prince or your henpecked king."

  The Cotti kicked Blade again, sending him rolling across the room this time. "Be quiet! You will get plenty of chance to talk when my prince gets here."

  Blade lay gasping, his ribs aching with renewed venom. "Why do you not face me like a man, you cowardly bastard? Have you only the courage to beat women and bound prisoners? Are you afraid of an unarmed man? I could beat you with one arm tied behind my back."

  "How stupid do you think I am? Only a fool would untie you."

  "Or a man with the courage to face me. You must be the kin of chickens. Your kestrel made a mistake when it chose you, so it's as stupid as you are."

  The Cotti's face mottled, and his lips whitened with fury. There was only one thing guaranteed to goad a man more than insulting him, and that was to insult his familiar. Bird kin were particularly sensitive, and easily blinded by rage. The kestrel man was not a fool, but even wise men made mistakes when in the grip of a red rage. Blade was counting on that, for if the Cotti kept his cool, his plan was doomed.

  "What are you waiting for?" Blade sneered. "Your friends to return and back you up? Are you afraid to face me alone, chicken man? Big men are cowardly, and particularly bird kin."

  "I'm not afraid of a little runt like you, Jashimari scum! I don't have to prove that I can beat you, I already did."

  "Only a Cotti could claim that sneaking up behind a man and hitting him over the head was a victory. But since you're so afraid, you can use your sword, and I'll fight you unarmed."

  The Cotti forced a sneering laugh. "I don't want to kill you. My prince will wish to speak to you when he gets here."

  "You haven't the skill to kill me, you stupid baby buggering bastard. I'll wager that you're as poor a fighter as your captain, and he didn't last long."

  "You'll pay for his death, I swear it!"

  "Why don't you make me pay now?" Blade goaded, wondering if the man was ever going to crack. "I stuck your captain like a pig! Just like I killed your King Shandor, and he died like a pig too. And all your friends in the other room, I washed my hands in their blood and ate their hearts for breakfast."

  "You murdered them while they slept, you bastard!"

  "While you were asleep outside! But you're too cowardly to extract a little vengeance, not so?"

  The Cotti drew a dagger from his belt and stepped towards Blade, who watched him with narrowed eyes. Either he was going to kill him now or cut his bonds, and he hoped it was the latter. The soldier squatted down and pressed the weapon to Blade's throat.

  "Be quiet, or I'll cut out your tongue."

  "Trelath will want to speak to me. I doubt he'll be pleased to find
that I can't answer his questions, lack wit. You'll not find Minna-Satu either, she's already left for Jadaya on my horse. She'll bring Kerrion here to deal with you and your cowardly master, and he'll doubtless reward me for rescuing his wife. He's a bit brighter than the rest of you Cotti bastards. Especially you. Your mother was a whore and your father a goat, from the looks of you, no wonder you're such a cretin."

  The soldier growled and reached behind the assassin to cut the thong that bound his hands, then stood up and backed away a few steps.

  "Untie your legs. I want to beat you on your feet, Jashimari scum. You'll pay for your slanderous lies."

  Blade sat up and freed his legs, marvelling at the predictability of warriors, whose pride could make them do the stupidest things. A tradesman or merchant would not have fallen for the taunting, since they would have had a healthy respect for the skills of an assassin. To a warrior he was inferior, however, a man who slit the throats of sleeping soldiers in the night, who could not hope to match the skill and brawn of a trained soldier.

  When their courage or abilities were scorned, they also had an overriding need to prove it, and therein lay their doom. The kestrel man put away his knife and prepared for an unarmed fight, flexing his arms and cracking his knuckles. Just like the men in taprooms who picked fights with Blade, this man could not resist the challenge. Blade stood and stretched his arms and legs to get rid of the lingering stiffness, smiling.

  "You really are a dimwit, Cotti. Do you honestly think you can beat an assassin?"

  The Cotti spat and sneered, "With one arm tied behind my back."

  "I would like to see you try, but I don't have time to toy with you. Your men should have searched me better, you see."

  The soldier's eyes widened as Blade reached into his sleeves and drew his daggers, then yanked out his sword with a hiss of steel and a muttered curse. Blade flung a dagger as the man threw himself to the side, and the weapon impaled him through the throat with unerring accuracy. The Cotti staggered back with a gurgle, clawing at the black hilt that protruded from his neck. He fell to his knees and dropped his sword as blood pumped over his tabard in a scarlet river. The kestrel’s high-pitched scream made Blade turn as the bird swooped in through the window, its claws outstretched. He ducked, and the kestrel flew over his head, fluttering to the ground beside its dying friend. The assassin walked over to the kneeling Cotti and jerked his dagger from the man's throat, wiping it on his tabard.