by E G Manetti
Lilian lifts her mask from her belt. “Follow three paces behind. Do not fire without my signal. If they do not know we are here, it will be well to keep it that way.”
Donning the mask, she tucks away the glittering gold warbelt, becoming a black shadow indistinct from those of the maze. Flowing along the living pathways, she can hear the soft footfalls of her otherwise silent companions. As long as they are not expected, the Despoilers will not detect them.
The alcove quarters’ maze is designed for games and dalliance. The corridors open to small chambers ornamented with water features, small sculptures, and benches. As she approaches the entrance to each, Lilian halts her troop with a silent signal and then moves forward, seeking guards. Bright compared to the corridors, the sculptures, trellises, and benches create deep shadows. These are the positions she would use to defend against intruders. The first two yield naught but the ornaments they are designed to contain. In the third, Lilian discerns two shadows where there should be none on either side of an ornamental pillar covered in climbing roses.
The first Despoiler dies quickly. The second is hamstrung. She leaps onto his chest and has her thorn at his throat before he can gather breath to cry out. “Speak and you die quickly. Do not and you will die gutted, shaftless, and blind.”
Chrys cannot hear what Lilian’s captive is saying, but he can imagine the man’s terror at being hamstrung and pinned by the faceless wraith. The man falls silent. The blade flashes and tension leaves the body as its shade is called to Rimon’s dungeons. Wiping her thorn on the dead man’s tunic, she signals and Chrys moves into the chamber, the others behind him.
Rising, she says, “There are at least a dozen within. Another set of guards between here and the central chamber. Ten are in the center. They intend to fire the pyrotechnics into the pavilions. It is likely the current battle is an attempt to keep the elite pinned in the courtyard so they can complete their plan.”
It is a horrific vision. The incendiary devices are lovely and harmless fired high into the sky. Fired into the temporary structures of the pavilions, they will create a conflagration that few could escape. The deaths themselves would be excruciating. Even with the elite spread throughout the courtyard, it remains a confined space. Many will die.
“They will fire on their own forces,” Bran says with shock. It is not only the elite who will die ugly deaths.
“They are Despoilers,” Rebecca returns. “They are capable of much worse.”
Sheathing her blade, Lilian collects the fallen Despoiler’s fire-pistol. They find the second set of Despoiler guards where she anticipated and once again the wraith dispatches them without sound. They have been fifteen minutes in the maze. Time is not their ally in this battle. Each passing minute increases the probability that the Despoilers will succeed in launching the pyrotechnics into the crowded courtyard.
»◊«
Having confirmed that Apollo will forgo the pyrotechnics, Cesare is about to return to his father when the battle breaks out. A half dozen shrine guards surround the prelates, seer, Katleen, and Cesare, intent on guiding them into the safety of the alcove quarters. Fireburst takes the head of the lead guard and they veer toward the shelter of the pavilions. The first level of the construction is three steps above the ground. The top level is over eight feet. The scaffolding that supports the structure is swathed in drapes. Having recently explored the scaffolding of another structure, Cesare is able to shepherd the small group beneath the pavilion and out of sight.
Moving into the depths of the structure, Cesare halts the group where the wood floors graze their heads. Pulling his blade, Cesare slices the hanging drapes in multiple locations. The surviving five guards take position at the improvised fire slits.
Using their blades, Gilead and Apollo slash the cloths to allow them visibility into the developing melee. In the darkness and confusion, it is difficult to discern who is friend and who is foe.
»◊«
The sight at the center of the maze is all that Lilian feared. Apollo intended a fantastic display to conclude the introduction of the Inversion with three score pyrotechnic rockets. In the light of several Vistrite torches, four figures in the robes of alcove attendants lie dead on the ground. A dozen dark-garbed figures are engaged in pulling the rockets from the neat arrangement directed at the sky and stacking them to fire toward the alcove quarters and crowded courtyard. Directing them are Jarrod and a tall, cadaverous man. Something about the pale, lanky stranger strikes a chord of memory, but Lilian has no time to consider it. They are eight pistols against a dozen, but they own the element of surprise.
Dropping back, she yields command to Raleigh. The time for stealth is past and in a pitched battle, Raleigh is a proven commander. In moments, he has them in position, hiding in the shadows at the entrance to the central chamber. At his gesture, the Serengeti open fire. Six Despoilers fall in the onslaught. The others scramble to the cover of the ornamental pillars and stone benches.
The last Despoiler to take cover manages to ignite one of the rockets. It rises over the maze and flies toward the alcove quarters. There is the sound of thunder and a flash of light above the maze walls. The dense walls of greenery muffle all other sound. If there are screams of pain and terror, neither Despoiler nor Serengeti can hear them.
Fireburst from the pinned Despoilers laces into the dark avenue that shelters Lilian and her forces. The Despoilers cannot see them, but the greenery offers little true shelter as the firebursts sear through. In several places, the hedges begin to smolder. Green from the rainy season, the verdant bushes are slow to ignite. If it were it the dry season, they would be in flames.
The Serengeti return fire, keeping the Despoilers pinned and away from the pyrotechnics.
“Target the nearest light,” Lilian whispers to Flavia. The fallen prelate obeys without question. A pool of black spreads from the hedge wall into the chamber, covering one of the Despoilers.
Gliding through the shadows, Lilian is all but invisible. Focused on the fireburst coming from her friends, the Despoiler does not even turn when Lilian approaches. Hands clutching her opened throat, the Despoiler falls without a sound. Another light goes out and Lilian moves on. The man must have sensed something for he turns as she raises her thorn. It is too late, the thorn driving into his carotid artery and slashing free. He drops to his knees and then onto his face.
Fireburst from the entrance into the chamber is becoming intermittent. The Serengeti are using the darkness Lilian is creating to spread out and away from their initial positions, making them difficult to target.
Sadico, the cadaverous man, and three others yet live, but they have ceased to fire.
A fire-pistol sounds from the right of the chamber entrance and sears the greenery beyond one of the Despoiler positions, the brief blaze of light revealing that the position is abandoned. The surviving Despoilers have retreated into an exit hidden in the darkness created with the destroyed lights.
At the source of the last Serengeti fireburst, Lilian finds Bran and Flavia. Following Flavia, they find Raleigh and Chrys. Returning to the passage, Chrys calls forth Stefan, Douglas, and Rebecca. They are eight to the Despoilers’ five, but they cannot be certain where the Despoilers have gone. Except for the entrance they used, all the others are false exits and will eventually lead back to the central chamber. The lines of sight and the darkness do not favor dividing to guard each entrance and they must disable the pyrotechnics. Disliking all the options, they separate into two groups.
Leaving Chrys and Rebecca to disable the pyrotechnics and Raleigh and Stefan to guard them, Lilian leads Bran, Flavia, and Douglas in pursuit of the Despoilers.
»◊«
Making his way through the courtyard, Nickolas scrambles from shelter to shelter, using the superior range of his rifle to cover retreating warriors. Reaching the pavilion, he finds Lucius has been joined by a dozen of the elite, including Aristides and Hercules. At Lucius’ command, Nickolas exchanges his fire-rifle for Joyc
e’s pistol. The spy is a skilled sharpshooter and makes every shot count. Although they have fewer rifles than their attackers, the warriors, militia, and shrine guards outnumber the Despoiler assassins. In another half period, the battle will be won.
Fletcher last saw his mentor on the far side of the courtyard opposite the position he abandoned with Nickolas and the women. Determining the odds do not favor a sprint across the courtyard, he angles into the gardens. Once under cover of darkness, he moves quickly, reaching the edge of the alcove quarters and the stone porch that is sending fireburst toward a knot of Despoilers behind a retaining wall. Vaulting a balustrade, Fletcher discovers a score of besieged, including his mentor, Kemeha, as well as Monsignor Elenora, Raphael, Lady Chloe, a wounded Seigneur Amaranth, and several guards. Assessing the group, Fletcher determines it wise to leave the nature of their foes unuttered. There is little Monsignor Elenora can do, and the elite are holding their own. Out in the dark gardens, Thorvald and Trevelyan are emerging with reinforcements. The battle will not last much longer.
A sharp, hot hiss cuts the air over the gardens as a fireball sails into the courtyard and explodes in the pavilion next to the central one. Screams tear through the night as the spreading explosive ignites the pavilion and a number of those sheltering within.
»◊«
Fireburst strikes the fountain Marco is using for shelter, filling the air with the scent of scorched stone as the sound of fireburst and screams fill the night. Crouching behind the sheltering base, the female guard raises her pistol over the lip, firing blind in the direction of their assailant. “If we can hold them back, reinforcements will arrive.”
Marco nods, listening. Fireburst in all directions, naught directed at them since that last burst. A lure? Turning to the other guard, he says, “Fire from the other side of the fountain.”
The guard looks puzzled but says naught as he obeys.
Fireburst returns his shot, searing the other side of the fountain.
Lynette scowls. “They are keeping us here.”
“To what end?” the male guard asks.
“Naught but ill,” Marco replies. “We need to move into the gardens where the dark will cover us.”
“But the torches.” The male guard gestures to the band of torchlight between them and the dark gardens. It is not far, and if they all rush out at once, some of them will make it to safety. Some will not. Glancing at Blythe crouching at his left, he finds her pale, but resolute, her chin up and shoulders square in imitation of Lilian. She will never have Lilian’s fierceness, but he is pleased to see she lacks not courage.
Replying to the guard, Marco says. “Give me your pistol.”
“What are you planning?” Lynette hisses.
Ignoring his spouse, he turns to the guards. “Lead them to safety. I will remain and draw their fire.”
Blythe whispers, “If milord pleases?”
Lynette hisses again at Blythe’s effrontery. Marco knows Blythe would not transgress without cause. “I am listening.”
“The nearest torches are in fire-pistol range.”
Looking up, he judges the distance. If they take out the two nearest torches, it will darken a patch eight paces wide between the fountain and the gardens. He looks at the guards. “Can you make the shots? If you miss, the Despoilers will be alerted, and they may rush us.”
The guards nod. Marco returns the pistol. Another long drawn-out hiss from Lynette is more than he can tolerate. Turning on his wife, he finds the sound came from rending her gown with her dagger. Knotting the torn edges, she raises the length above her knees and kicks off her high heels. For all she is difficult, Lynette is a warrior. Turning to the guards, he says, “Fire on my signal and then we race.”
»◊«
In the dark passage, Flavia crouches down and the glow of her pale skin disappears, obscured by dirt. Bran and Douglas drop beside her and soon all four are but shadows in the dark passage. With almost Lilian’s skill, Flavia moves with only the slightest stirring of air to mark her passing. Douglas has had three seasons of Apollo’s tutelage and moves with sufficient grace and precision to avoid giving away his position. The free-trader lacks warrior grace but not stealth training and knows how to merge with the shadows.
All four hunters listen for the sound of a footfall, a rustle of greenery, a breath. Twice, Lilian catches movement that is not natural to the place and follows it. The Despoilers are moving to the chamber entrance closest to the pyrotechnics. Reaching the corner before the turn to the entrance, Lilian peers into the passage. Two dark forms lurk in the shadows. In the chamber beyond them, exposed in the torchlight, Chrys and Rebecca are disabling the rockets. Where are Sadico and the other two?
From the shelter of the passageway, the Despoilers are taking aim at her friends. Surging forward, Lilian fires at the one on the right. Flavia takes the one on the left. At the sound of fireburst, Chrys and Rebecca dive for shelter. It is well they did so. Fireburst blazes from a false chamber exit, targeting not the fleeing Ravens, but the incendiary devices.
There is no time. As one Lilian and Flavia fire into the supports holding the rockets. Not knowing which are disabled, they can but keep them from leaving the maze. Discerning their purpose, Bran and Douglas add their fire to Lilian’s and Flavia’s. From the shadows, Raleigh and Stefan join the assault. The rockets topple as two ignite, launching not into the night, but into the walls of the maze.
“Race! Race now!” Lilian screams over the sound of the exploding rockets. From their shadowed positions, Raleigh and Stefan fire toward the Despoilers to keep them pinned as the Serengeti race for the one exit that may lead them from the maze before it is consumed.
»◊«
As the pavilion collapses amid the screams of the wounded, Trevelyan and Thorvald take control of the compound, exterminating any who do not drop their arms. From the alcove quarters burst two score armed and angry elite, among them those Nickolas assisted to safety a quarter period earlier. They offer no quarter. Before Thorvald and Trevelyan can act, the traitors and assassins are destroyed without hesitation, leaving but a handful alive for interrogation.
With control of the alcove quarters restored, dozens rush to the burning pavilion, servitors, guards, and elite. All hasten to aid the wounded and endangered. From the far end of the garden wing, Seigneurs William and Tristan lead another two-score militia. Lady Estella follows, accompanied by George, Rodolfo, Elysia, and Micah.
As his mother passes, Raphael vaults forward from the porch to offer his arm. He is followed by the rest of the besieged, who surge forward to discover what has caused the melee.
Leaving his pavilion to discover what he may of his children, Lucius spies Estella in the company of Raphael and Elysia. Cesare is nowhere in evidence. With a nod at his eldest, Lucius takes Estella’s arm as the group moves toward the burning pavilion. As they reach the edge of the gathered crowd, they find Helena, soot stained, her robes singed, pacing and muttering.
Gilead, equally bedraggled, is focused on the pavilion base where two guards are aiding a wounded Apollo. The falling timbers that killed two guards also broke the prelate’s right forearm and seared a burn the size of Lucius’ palm into the man’s thigh.
“You are always so impatient. You must slow now. It will be well. It will occur as it must,” Helena says to Apollo, her tone sweet and gentle.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Apollo inquires, “Katleen, Cesare? Are they well?”
Lucius’ blood freezes and he feels Estella falter. Wrapping one arm around the slender waist, Lucius holds her tight to him. She will be shamed does she fall.
Before Lucius can question Apollo, Helena turns and rounds the back of the pavilion. “Do not fear the fire, Katleen. Run through the fire. Katleen will heed me.”
Sprinting after the retreating seer, Gilead shouts for aid. “Hasten, they are on the other side of the collapse.”
A nightmare greets Lucius on the far side of the pavilion. It is naught but a wall of fir
e. If Cesare and Katleen remain beneath the pavilion, they are dead.
»◊«
At the sight of William and Tristan leading reinforcements into the courtyard, Marco emerges from the gardens with Lynette, Blythe, the shrine guards, and the servitor. They are scratched, bruised, and filthy, but otherwise unharmed. Without a backward glance, Lynette disappears into the quarters. Releasing the servitors and Blythe to find safety, Marco commandeers a pistol. He knows not the source of the explosion, but the flaming pavilion is evidence that the battle is far from over. Those Despoilers who do not surrender will be destroyed.
»◊«
Cesare’s ears ring. Katleen is screaming at him but he cannot hear her. Smoke fills the air along with the foul stench of burning cloth, hair, and flesh. Katleen slaps him and awareness returns in a rush. They are on the ground and he is lying atop the girl. The pavilion is ablaze. They must flee or die. Ignoring a searing pain in one shoulder, Cesare struggles to his knees, releasing the young redhead who attempts to rise to her feet. Grasping one passing wrist, Cesare pulls her back down, below the heavy smoke.
What of the prelates? Beneath the burning pile of debris, one of the guards lies dead, a thick shard of wood through her chest. The pavilion collapsed in the middle. The prelates, do they live, are on the other side of the flaming debris. Moving away from the fallen guard, Cesare searches through the thick haze for the edge of the pavilion and the cloth drapes that will offer little hindrance to exit.
The drapes are ablaze. They are trapped.
“There must be another way.” Cesare’s throat burns, and he cannot hear his own words. Katleen tugs at his arm, her mouth open, screaming words he cannot hear. He has no reassurance to offer. They are trapped between the burning cloth wall and the collapsed section of the pavilion.
Katleen grabs his hair, yanking his face to hers and she spits full in his face. Rage explodes, burning away fear. Katleen turns and launches through the flaming wall. Determined to take retribution for the foul insult, he launches after her, landing hard on his shoulder, gasping and smoke blind.