"Shut your mouth," Gorgeo warned.
"Even for all of my cowardice, I would have gone to her, as most of your men begged you to do. What great cause is there that is worth the tortures that await that brave girl? It is you who are the coward, Gorgeo, preferring to put a blade into an innocent man rather than fighting Demetrius on his own ground. Coronea was willing, but look at you, surrounded by your fine couches and pillows! Do you think there are pillows where Coronea is going?"
"Shut up, damn you!"
Mad with rage, Gorgeo lunged at him. Asander had to dance aside to miss the blade. His foot caught the leg of the couch he had been sitting on and he fell to the floor, his blue robe spilling out around him. Xanthippus sprang to his feet. He rushed across the room to the fallen Asander. Gorgeo drew back in surprise.
Xanthippus stared at him, matching his gaze, iron for iron.
"One move and in the space of a heartbeat I will disarm you and gut you with your own sword," Xanthippus warned him.
Gorgeo scoffed, his lips curling, not in a snarl this time, but a smile. "The loyal slave comes to rescue his master, is that it?"
"You speak brave, my friend, but I notice you do not move against me. Were I in your place, I would have struck already. You hold your ground, though, because you know what I say is true." Gorgeo's smile faded. Xanthippus noticed him lick his lips, undoubtedly finding his mouth suddenly gone dry. "The bravest of the Epirian warriors, the Huntress, had the truth of it. I am no slave to these Irrylians, but a member of the Prathian Guard. If you still want to raise that sword, I invite you to do so now."
The guards at the door had stepped forward and they stood poised to intervene. "At your word," one of them said. Gorgeo held up his hand, silencing him.
Xanthippus went on. "I have undergone training in every weapon you can think of, and I am expert at subduing every form of armed man with my bare hands. I have led men in battle and I have been led, unerringly following orders that would cause your little band to blanch, Gorgeo. You think I fear Shadow Riders? Not since I was a boy in Serusi do they strike terror in my heart. You would not find me running from them as you do."
"Idle boasts!" the guard said, leveling his spear. "Prathian or no, there is just one of him."
"Behind me is Nydeon, my blood brother. He knows what I am about to say before I think of saying it, and he knows what I will do before I think of doing it. I will tell you right now, nothing happens to Asander that does not also happen to me and Nydeon…and Thalen."
"I am not afraid of this braggart," the guard declared hotly. He rushed around the edge of a couch and thrust his spear toward the Prathian's midsection. Xanthippus found it a simple matter to sidestep the attack. He grabbed the spear and twirled, yanking it from the guard's grasp, at the same time breaking the man's nose with his elbow. With a cry, the guard sprawled face first on the floor, his blood spattering the couches. If he thought his compatriot had his back, he would have been disappointed to see Xanthippus level his spear against him before he had even thought of making a move. Xanthippus glanced over his shoulder to see Nydeon with two jewel-encrusted daggers. One he held at a servant-guard's throat, the other he tossed to Thalen who with a determined scowl easily held the other servant at bay.
"As you can see, Gorgeo, you now face armed men," Xanthippus said.
Leaning heavily on his staff, Clautias rose to his feet. "Enough of this!" he cried, his voice booming impossibly from within his sunken chest. Everyone stopped at the sound of it. The guard lay on the floor groaning, face down in an expanding pool of blood. "Put away your weapons. All of you! There is to be no killing here. Gorgeo!"
Gorgeo would not relinquish his sword. He stood as if ready to spring even after Xanthippus had swung his spear around to point at Gorgeo's chest. He would skewer him if he had to, though it was not his wish. He had come to respect the Epirians and he saw Gorgeo as a stalwart fighter, if perhaps at times dangerously fanatical. Here was one man who would not die peacefully in his bed. Whether or not he would die with an Epirian spear point in his chest in the next few seconds was an open question.
Just then, a man in a mustard-colored cloak burst into the room. He wore leather armor and carried a helmet with a long sky-blue tassel under his arm. He was followed by five armed men, Irrylians all. Their sandals clattered on the marble floor and their leather creaked. They looked to be fresh from a battlefield, and the six of them together sounded like a marching army.
Gorgeo immediately drew back, letting his sword fall to his side. "Do my eyes deceive me? It is Prince Gonatas!"
"Stand aside," Gonatas cried, striding past Gorgeo. Noticing Xanthippus' menacing spear point, his companions came to a sudden halt and drew their swords.
"Put your weapons away," Clautias demanded. "Prathian, we bear you no malice. Lower your spear."
Xanthippus stepped back and lowered his spear, not quite menacing anyone.
Barely audible, he heard a voice gasp, "Gonatas!" He turned to see Asander, who had been sitting on the floor, suddenly clamber to his feet. He stared dumbfounded at the man called Gonatas. Xanthippus merely felt confused. Irrylian soldiers facing Epirian rebels, and yet it was against the Prathian that they drew swords.
"Hail, Gonatas," Clautias said, raising a withered hand in greeting.
Gonatas fell to one knee and bowed his head. He rose again just as quickly. "Oh, I prayed I was not too late," he said, grasping the folds of the old man's robes. "Clautias, my friend, you must leave here at once. Pylia has Seen you and Taler sends Shadow Riders to this very place!"
"Pylia has Seen me?" Clautias exclaimed in horror. "She has spoken my name?"
"Your name, yes, and she has Seen this house. We have traveled fast from Lacecia. My father's conquest of Gyriece has begun. He has ordered me to bring you to him, to find you before Menleco. The gods have blessed my travels and I have reached you in time. But Menleco comes. This house is known to him!"
"We discovered the Shadow Riders' camp on our way here," Gorgeo disclosed, stepping forward. "We thought they were pursuing us. Coronea sacrificed a squad of men to slow them, allowing us to escape. But I see now that they were making their way here, as were we. They could be right behind us."
Gonatas snapped his head around. "What is this of Coronea?"
"We must make haste!" Clautias cried. He turned and scooped up his scroll from the couch. He looked around frantically as if to find other incriminating documents he might seize.
Gonatas peered intently at Gorgeo. "What do you mean 'sacrificed'? What has happened to Coronea?"
"Her men were killed and she herself was captured by the Shadow Riders," Gorgeo said. "They have dispatched a troop to take her to Irrylia, Myssene as I understand it."
"She goes to Pylia, then!" Gonatas said, his voice tinged with a rising panic. "SHE GOES TO PYLIA! By the gods, we cannot let this stand!" He turned and began striding rapidly across the room, back the way he had come, ignoring Clautias who shouted after him. "I will go to her. As far as anyone knows, I am still a prince of Irrylia. I can stop this."
Asander stepped forward boldly, elbowing Xanthippus aside. "Prince Gonatas!" he cried. "Wait!"
Gonatas stopped in his tracks, looking back and catching Asander's eye.
"Let me come with you," Asander pleaded.
Gonatas squinted across the room at him. "Is that you, Asander? I did not see you there. You are in league with Clautias?" A hint of a smile began to play on his lips.
"Not in league with," Asander said, "but in the custody of. I am his prisoner."
"He is Demetrius' bloody right hand," Gorgeo spat, "fresh from his mission to assassinate our king."
"'Bloody right hand'?" Gonatas said in disbelief. "Not Asander. You have him wrong, Gorgeo."
"Gorgeo would have me dead already."
"No, no…Asander may serve a mad king, but he is an honorable man. He does his sworn duty and nothing more."
"The duty imposed on him by a madman!"
"If it ple
ase your highness, I perform my duty to the mad king not out of honor, as you suggest, but because in my heart I am but a coward," Asander said. "But I have been a coward long enough. I stood by when Arrhus was killed. It is just as Cleonander said, every word of it true. Now, I see you here, Prince, and I hear of Coronea's courage, and it fills me with shame." Asander sagged for only an instant before straightening again. He stood to his full height, his chin held high and firm. "As far as anyone knows, I am still Demetrius' foreign minister. I can help you stop this. I will help you stop Demetrius. Let me come with you."
"He will murder you in your sleep," Gorgeo warned gravely, "and run off to report us all to his king."
"Do not 'highness' me, Asander," Gonatas said, ignoring Gorgeo. "Do you see me draped in the royal purple? I am no prince but a common soldier of the Epirian rebellion, as you can see. But I will play 'prince' one last time, and you, Asander, foreign minister of Irrylia, will come with me. You say you are a coward, but it is no coward who would choose to ride with doomed men. Come with me and we shall ride to our doom together!"
A light twinkled in Gonatas' eye as a smile spread across his handsome face. He looked every bit the prince to Xanthippus and the effect of his charm on Asander had him grinning from ear to ear.
"You think this wise?" Clautias asked. "If you are discovered--"
"I have no choice," Gonatas replied. "I will not leave Coronea to that witch. We will have to ride hard to catch them. Come, men. We ride for Myssene."
After they had left, Xanthippus turned to Gorgeo with a smile. His enemies were evaporating before his eyes.
"I believe I once heard you say that good fortune does not light your path, and yet in your darkest moment you have found allies where you supposed only enemies lurked. Without cooler heads and this poor man's spear"--the guard was now sitting up, holding his face in his hands, one of the disarmed servants attending him--"you might have killed us all."
"What allies? You are no friend to Epiria," Gorgeo said.
"I have come to respect the bravery of your people, Gorgeo, and I understand that your cause is just." Xanthippus paused, taking a breath. He would tell them the truth. If they wanted to kill him, he supposed they were welcome to try. He was not a condemned man, nor was he anyone's captive. "You almost had the truth of it, Gorgeo. But it was not Asander who was sent to kill your Hurrus, it was I. I traveled to Tygetia to kill Hurrus, it is true. But I come back to Prathia to kill Menleco."
"I knew it!" Gorgeo exclaimed. "It is just as I said!" The hiss of steel on steel filled the room as he once again unsheathed his sword, his eyes aflame.
"Put away your weapon!" Clautias said. "The Prathian has the courage to tell us the truth. Let us hear him out."
"I knew nothing of Epiria and Demetrius and kings and witches, and I cared even less. But even in Tygetia, I began to suspect that Hurrus was an innocent man, not deserving of an assassin's blade."
"He was the only man we encountered there who was not," Nydeon added from the back of the room. He came forward and stood by Xanthippus' side.
"I can see the truth of it now," Xanthippus went on, turning to Clautias. "We accompany Asander and Gorgeo's band because Menleco would have had us die in Tygetia and we needed to come to Prathia to find him. Now, we find that he comes to us."
"So Hurrus is still alive?" Clautias asked.
Xanthippus nodded.
"But he is in danger," Clautias mused. "I will go Tygetia to see him."
"The man may be in less danger than you think. As I have heard it, Hurrus raises an army in Tygetia," Xanthippus said. "Clautias, you do not need more places to hide. What you need is an army. And you, Gorgeo, you need to be out in the field fighting. Would you not prefer that to these pretty couches and scrolls? There are no battles to be won here. We will kill Menleco. He travels with the Prathian foot. I know them well. They are no friends of Shadow Riders. I will command these foot for you, Clautias. You need an army. I will bring you an army. I will kill Menleco and I will bring you his army. And when Hurrus comes, I will fight at his side."
"The Prathians fight at the beck and call of Demetrius," Gorgeo said. "Why should we believe you?"
"Menleco fights for silver," said Xanthippus. "My Prathians will fight for honor."
Gorgeo scoffed. "I see no honorable Prathians here. I see two men, dressed as slaves. All this grand talk of armies, and yet it is but two men I see."
"And now more out that window," Nydeon exclaimed. He pointed and Xanthippus saw appear on the far hillside a troop of dark riders, scattering a flock of sheep as they rode through them. They were too far to see in much detail, but Xanthippus was certain they were Menleco's men, Shadow Riders.
"They are here!" Clautias said. "Quickly, let us be away. We have not the strength to oppose them."
"But where do we go?" Gorgeo asked. "Even now, they fill the hillside!"
Clautias hobbled to the center of the room, his walking stick thumping on the floor. He stopped and knocked his stick against a couch. The couch was set upon a finely embroidered carpet depicting octolusks among mermaids.
"Push aside this couch and pull up the rug," Clautias cried. Gorgeo rushed to his side and did as Clautias commanded. Set in the floor under the rug he found a wooden door.
"Open it and let us get inside," Clautias said. "There is a tunnel that will take us to safety."
Gorgeo bent down and heaved on the door. It rose but a finger's breadth before falling back into place with a rattle of its metal fittings.
"Hurry!" Clautias said.
Gorgeo hefted it again, using all his strength. He looked back over his shoulder in anguish. "It is stuck! Locked from the inside, I think." He tried two more times to open the door.
"Help him," Clautias called to the guards and servants.
Through the window, Xanthippus could see clearly now the skull masks of the Riders, could hear the pounding of the hoofbeats. Their long black cloaks billowed behind them as they rode. As he watched, a skull face appeared in the window. Xanthippus saw the man catch sight of them through his black eyeholes. He called out to his companions and vanished from sight, rushing for the door.
Clautias saw him too. "They are upon us. Hurry! "
"We will hold them off," Xanthippus cried. "Nydeon, arm yourself. And you, Thalen! You're with us."
Xanthippus saw that Nydeon still had his dagger. Then he looked back and saw that Thalen had not relinquished his either. He stood in confusion for just an instant and then rushed forward to join the Prathians. The boy would earn his captain's cloak today.
Three men heaved on the trapdoor as one and it opened with a wrenching crack of wood and metal. All three tumbled backward.
One of the guards rushed to the edge of the opening and plunged down the ladder without hesitation. Gorgeo scrambled to his feet and took hold of Clautias by an elbow. The old man gingerly placed a foot on the top rung. The guard's hands appeared at his feet, assisting him from below, while Gorgeo cast anxious glances towards the door. Then Clautias disappeared into the hole as the guard took firm hold of him and whisked him down.
The servants were next, followed by the guard with the broken nose. Gorgeo ushered them all down, muttering encouragements to hurry them on. Finally, there was no one left but Gorgeo himself. He started down and was halfway through when he saw the first of the Shadow Riders burst into the room. He froze. He looked as if he believed Death itself had found him. His face wore an expression of both fear and uncertainty. The Riders did that to men, even to iron men like Gorgeo. But Xanthippus saw behind the fear and he knew what Gorgeo wanted--he wanted to climb out of that hole and fight them. Xanthippus could not allow it.
"Go!" he shouted, the fury in his voice alone forcing Gorgeo down the remaining rungs of the ladder. He disappeared into the hole. The last Xanthippus saw of him was his hand pulling the door shut, leaving the three to face the Shadow Riders alone.
Chapter 23
Hurrus woke to the sound of creaking wagon wheels.
He lay flat on his back and when he raised his head, pain seared his scalp. Blood rushed in his ears, sounding like a thousand singing cicadas. When he touched his head, he found that it had been thoroughly bandaged. Groaning, he managed to raise himself onto an elbow…and pain shot through his left shoulder. He fell back with a grimace. It also had been bandaged and he could not raise his arm. The fat man's javelin. He remembered the sword gash to his head well enough, but he had forgotten about the damned javelin. He wished he could kill the fat man all over again.
When he opened his eyes, he saw half-a-dozen black figures peering down at him. Gradually, the faces of his companions came into focus.
"Get me out of this damned wagon," he said, raising himself up. "Who put me in here?"
"You are injured, Highness," one of the men said.
Hurrus felt strong hands grasping each of his arms, pulling him up. "Highness? Does this look like a crown to you?" He gingerly ran a hand over his bandaged head and was relieved when his fingers came away dry. Apparently, the bleeding had stopped. He remembered torrents of blood blurring his vision.
Then he saw that the man who had spoken was Deon. He had taken to calling him 'highness' ever since the Silver Shields had cheered their 'king' at the battle on the plain. When the sound first rang in his ears, he could have been made to believe it. Now, he preferred the playful tone of Deon's first utterance of the word to the seriousness he had adopted since. King of nothing! Hurrus was hardly even a general now. He wondered how many men remained in his Corps of the Eagle Man, but was afraid to know the truth.
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