Katja gritted her teeth and gently pushed the door, expecting a hideous squeak of rusty hinges. The door swung back silently and she had to dash forward and catch it before it collided with the wall. Holding the light aloft Katja could see the corridor extended another thirty paces and then ended in a solid stone wall. Towards the end on the right side she could see a catch or doorway of some kind.
Katja wrapped the light with the sleeve of her dress until a very small amount seeped out. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she crept forward, head tilted to one side, listening for sounds of alarm.
When she stood opposite the secret opening into the Queen’s chambers Katja took a minute to study the door. It looked fairly simple, a wooden panel with a counter-weight to pull it closed once opened. There was a spyhole at eye level and a catch that could be opened from either side. She didn’t dare open the spyhole just yet, so instead she put her ear to the panel and listened.
At first the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. Gradually she began to pick out other noises coming through the wall. There was a low murmur of voices and the shuffle of feet on stone. Everything seemed normal. Katja covered the globe completely, so that no light from the secret passageway would show, before opening the spyhole. Pressing her eye to the hole she could see a large bedroom and beyond that a thick set of double doors. Immediately in front of her and to the left was a bed, beyond that a set of tables and chairs, wardrobes and a set of drawers. Queen Talandra sat reading at the table, a stack of papers spread out before her. Katja heaved a sigh of relief to see her alive and unharmed. The fear that had been gripping her chest eased.
She was about to push open the panel and sneak into the room when she heard the muffled sounds of a disturbance. From beyond the double doors Katja heard someone shouting, the clash of steel and a scream of pain. Talandra looked up in alarm and a second later the doors flew open. Her brother, Hyram, marched into the room looking flustered and annoyed.
“What’s happening?” asked Talandra.
“The disturbance has spread. People are running in panic throughout the palace,” said Hyram. “We’ve posted guards at the entrance to this wing. Alexis will make sure no one gets in. I’ve also posted two guards outside these doors. Once Queen Morganse’s people have it contained we’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, Hyram.”
He gave the Queen a peculiar look then turned towards the doors. They were opened from the other side and someone stepped into the room. For a couple of seconds Hyram and Talandra stared at the newcomer in surprise, but Katja was already trying to open the secret door.
She looked like one of Talandra’s royal guards, right down to the uniform, but unusually she wore her helmet, which partially covered her face. Even so, Katja would never forget those eyes.
“Who—” asked Hyram, but before he’d finished asking the question Teigan had lashed out. Her mailed fist cracked into his jaw and he stumbled back. She followed up quickly, clubbing him over the head with a wooden baton. The force of the blow was so hard the baton splintered as it collided with Hyram’s head. He dropped to the floor in a heap, blood seeping from the gash in his scalp.
As Katja twisted the handle and started to pull open the secret door, Teigan closed and locked the bedroom doors, sealing her inside with Talandra. She wedged a chair under the handle for good measure before returning her attention to the Queen.
Instead of screaming or panicking Talandra now stood facing Teigan with a narrow sword held ready. She cast a worried glance at her brother but the point of her sword never wavered.
As the secret door slid closed behind Katja with an audible click both women glanced in her direction. Their initial reaction was much the same, shock and surprise, but then Teigan’s face twisted into a vicious snarl. She drew her borrowed sword and cast the helmet aside.
“Majesty,” said Katja, inclining her head towards the Queen.
Talandra silently regarded her for a moment then nodded. Katja turned her attention towards Teigan. She was suddenly aware that everyone but her had a sword.
“You deserve to die,” Teigan said to the Queen, but she made no move to carry out her threat.
Talandra regarded her with a cool expression. “What have I done to deserve your wrath?”
“I’ve been trying to work out that for weeks,” said Katja, slowly edging towards the Queen. “At first I thought it was something grand. Rodann spoke about a revolution, but you never showed any interest. You never cared about any of that. Everything you’ve done was to get you into this room.”
Teigan watched her with seemingly lifeless eyes which gave away nothing. By itself that told Katja she was on the right road.
“Once I realised it wasn’t political, I knew your reasons were personal and petty.”
“Petty?” shouted Teigan.
Katja smiled, knowing she was on the right path. “I think you lost a brother in the war. Either that or your father. Surely not a husband.” She couldn’t think of Teigan tolerating the attentions of any man and there were few that would want to grapple with her.
“I lost everything because of you,” said Teigan, staring at the Queen with intense hatred. She’d been suppressing her emotions for months and now all of them were rushing to the surface in a flood. “My father, my brothers, my husband. All dead. Murdered in a field of mud for nothing.”
“We all suffered losses during the war,” said Talandra. “My father—”
“No. No! Do not pretend you understand. Do not tell me of your suffering,” said Teigan. “How many thousands died because of your pride? Your arrogance?”
As she ranted Katja kept edging across the room, bringing her closer to the Queen.
“You claim that you won the war, but how many widows and orphans did you create? How many families did you destroy?”
Katja could see there was no reasoning with Teigan but the Queen wasn’t ready to give up yet. “What would you have done in my place?” she asked.
“Surrendered. The west was united. It was at peace. If Seveldrom had joined the Alliance there wouldn’t have been a war. We could have lived in peace. My family, and thousands of others, would still be whole.”
Talandra heaved a long sigh. “You’re wrong. The Warlock and the Mad King had summoned an army for war. They wouldn’t have simply walked away. They would have slaughtered us and then continued their march across the continent. Many more people would have died if we’d done nothing.”
Teigan laughed, a dry bitter sound. “We? Who is we? Did you take to the battlefield? Did you stand on the front line in the mud? Did you shed even one drop of blood during the war?”
There was no answer to her questions. Katja knew it and so did the Queen. Nothing Talandra said would satisfy Teigan. Nothing would bring back her family or heal the wound that still festered deep inside her soul. She was broken and driven only by revenge. Teigan had not thought beyond the moment of her revenge and had no intention of escape.
Someone began to pound on the doors from outside but Teigan didn’t seem to notice or care. They would get through eventually but the doors were solid and had been designed to withstand a lot of damage.
“A reckoning must be paid, in blood, for your sins. For the lives you wasted,” said Teigan, readying herself for a fight. Katja looked around for a weapon but saw none, just papers and a table and chairs. Just before Teigan charged she remembered the hidden blade Lord Mullbrook had given her but it was already too late.
As Teigan raced forward Katja picked up a chair and threw it at her. It hit her square in the chest making her stumble and cry out in pain. At the same time Talandra stepped forward and lashed out with her sword. Teigan saw it coming and twisted to one side, taking the blow on her mail shirt. Katja threw herself at Teigan and they went down in a tangle of limbs, biting and clawing at one another.
Katja got one of her thumbs in Teigan’s right eye and was desper ately trying to shove it into her skull. At the same time as trying to ke
ep Teigan’s sword at bay the swordswoman strangled her with one hand. With a surge of strength Teigan shoved Katja’s hand away, bunched her legs together and kicked out. Katja had a moment of disorientation as she flew through the air before she collided with the table. The legs broke as she hit it and she tumbled to the ground amid the splinters.
Teigan rolled to one side, dodging an attack from the Queen, then retaliated and kicked out. Her foot caught Talandra on the hip, spinning her around, and she fell back onto the bed, banging her head on a wooden post. Her sword flew from her grip and it skittered out of sight under the bed. As Katja tried to shake off the black creeping in around the edges of her vision, Teigan retrieved her sword and then stalked towards the dazed Queen. The pounding at the door was much louder and Katja heard the crack of wood but they would be too late.
Lying prone on the bed the Queen desperately scanned the room for something. As Katja stumbled to her feet Teigan raised her sword on high. With a scream Katja yanked the short blade free from her necklace and launched herself at Teigan’s back. She clung onto Teigan’s shoulders and sword arm, desperately stabbing at the other woman, trying to find flesh. The dagger kept hitting mail and steel, doing nothing except annoy Teigan. The additional weight of Katja on her back made her stumble and they collided with a wall. Black spots danced in front of Katja’s eyes but she held on more tightly, wrapping an arm around Teigan’s neck, stabbing with the other.
Snarling like an angry dog Teigan tried to shake Katja free as they moved about the room. When that didn’t work she twisted around. Katja slipped to one side but refused to let go. A sharp stabbing pain in her side made her look down to see Teigan’s sword buried between her ribs. A scream lodged somewhere in her throat but now she was struggling for breath and it wouldn’t come out. Her grip started to ease around Teigan’s neck and her other arm flopped about, seemingly useless despite the dagger.
The darkness started to grow around the edges of the world again and sounds began to recede. Even the pounding and shouting at the door was started to fade. Katja’s fingers tried to hold onto Teigan’s mail but they were sliding and scratching at the metal. Her head fell back and her legs began to slip down towards the floor. With numb fingers she tried one last time to stab Teigan but it only sliced her across one ear, annoying but hardly fatal. Katja slumped to the ground and fell back against the wall, Teigan’s sword still buried in her right side. She thought it had pierced her lung as she couldn’t catch her breath and she could hear a terrible wheezing sound. When Teigan ripped her blade free Katja heard a scream but didn’t know if it was hers or someone else’s.
As Teigan raised her sword for a killing blow, Katja stared up in defiance as her tired fingers sought to retrieve her fallen dagger.
With a loud crack the doors to the Queen’s room burst open and two royal guards marched into the room led by a woman. Both guards carried loaded crossbows but her eyes were drawn to the woman’s face. For a second Katja thought she was seeing things but Teigan was also disorientated. It was the Queen.
“Lower your weapon,” said Talandra. “There’s been enough bloodshed already.”
Teigan was bleeding in a few places but all of her wounds were minor. Even so she wobbled on her feet as if dizzy, or perhaps she was simply exhausted. “Who?” she asked, glancing at the woman on the bed.
“My body-double,” said the Queen. “Surrender your weapon. It can all end here.”
“You’re right,” said Teigan, lowering her sword, holding it down by her side. “It must end today.”
The tone of Teigan’s voice sent a cold prickle of alarm down Katja’s spine. The others heard it too, as the royal guards raised their crossbows and aimed at the Seve woman’s chest.
“Don’t,” warned the Queen but Teigan wasn’t listening.
“You must die for what you’ve done,” she said. With a scream of rage she raised her sword and started to charge at the Queen. Even before she’d advanced a single step, two quarrels punched through the armour on her chest, burying themselves up to the fletching. At this distance they knocked Teigan off her feet, sending her flying backwards to collide with the far wall.
Despite her injuries she refused to stay down. Her arms and legs began thrashing about like a dying spider, but her body didn’t have the strength to lift her up any more, and as blood trickled and then gushed from her mouth a look of surprise crossed her face. Her confusion drained away and was replaced by a look of agony. The Queen started to approach Teigan but one of her royal guards kept her back, just in case. The danger had passed, though. Teigan couldn’t move but even so she continued to glare at Talandra. With her dying breath she cursed the Queen, spraying blood on the floor before she died.
Before the darkness closed in, Katja saw the Queen kneel down beside her. She felt gentle hands on her face and something pressing against the wound in her side. There was a loud rushing sound and then nothing, just an endless sea of black.
CHAPTER 46
When Choss woke up the next morning he was alone but the other side of the bed was still warm. He saw a note on the side table and reading its contents made him smile.
The Flesh Mage was dead and the rift had been sealed. He’d seen Munroe at the end, infused with magic and glowing like the sun, utterly terrifying and beautiful. It was her power that had tipped the scales and saved them all.
When they’d finally made it back to his house, bruised, battered and wearing bloodstained clothing, they’d felt bone weary beyond anything they’d ever experienced. Sleep had seemed like the best and only thing possible. But sleep had evaded them as another more urgent need rose up from within. They’d celebrated their victory but more than that, they’d celebrated life. When their passion had finally been quenched they’d talked until the sun had come up. Eventually they’d fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs and Choss had been content and at peace. It was a moment he’d not experienced for many years.
Yesterday there had been only one road for them both, stretching all the way to the horizon. Now the future wasn’t set and anything was possible.
As Choss sat up, the aches and injuries came back into focus, making him hiss in pain. Last night he’d made promises about looking after himself that he intended to keep. With that in mind he went down to the kitchen and fished out the powder the surgeon had previously left. While he waited for the water to boil Choss crunched rinna seeds between his teeth, which took the edge off the pain. Just walking down the stairs had made his leg throb and other injuries were jostling for attention. Fresh bruises were starting to blossom across his torso but he did his best to ignore them. The foul-tasting tea made him gag but he gulped it down quickly. After a second cup Choss felt much better and able to move around the house without feeling like a man twice his age.
He washed and dressed in fresh clothes, laced up his boots and automatically reached for his punching daggers. At the last second Choss pulled his hand back and went out the front door without them. He didn’t want to carry them any more. The streets would be safe enough but that wasn’t why he’d left them at home. If he wanted to make a fresh start, to become someone new, then it would mean leaving many things behind. His experience with Dońa Jarrow had shown him how naïve he could be. Choss had no illusions about the world, but today he could afford to walk the streets without them.
Appetising smells from a bakery made his stomach growl, reminding him how long it had been since his last meal. Choss stopped at the first shop to gorge himself on fresh warm bread, soft cheese and slices of juicy watermelon.
Walking through the streets he expected to see obvious signs of the widespread bloodshed from last night. At first he saw nothing amiss, except more patrols of the Watch than ever before. They marched along with hands on weapons, reassuring people with their presence and numbers.
There were no bodies, no discarded weapons and very little signs of damage to the surrounding buildings. He saw one shop with broken windows that had been boarded up, but little else. Choss di
d spot a few stains that were being vigorously scrubbed but the rest of the blood had been washed away. It seemed as if most of the violence between the Families had been conducted against each other, to the point of ignoring everything else.
Someone had been very busy in the hours after the fighting had stopped. Choss suspected that the Queen was doing her utmost to shield the people of Perizzi from the worst. Most would know that something had happened but they would pretend otherwise. The war was still fresh in the minds of many and because the city thrived on trade, faking normality was good for business. Eventually the illusion would become reality, but that was still a long way off. Today, in the nervous glances of strangers, Choss saw the illusion was wearing very thin. If no more violence erupted in the next few weeks their fear would begin to fade.
By the time Choss made it down to the docks it was almost midday and several shipments had already been unloaded from waiting vessels. Some dockhands and merchants were having a drink or grabbing something to eat, but the docks were still busy with activity. Much to his surprise Gorraxi sat out in the open at the end of the longest wharf. She received a few curious glances from those nearby, but because the Vorga was just watching the sea and not ripping anyone into pieces, no one complained.
Choss was still getting used to the idea that Gorraxi was female. As he sat down beside her on the dock he found himself going over previous events for clues. If he thought about it long enough he’d probably find the signs were there, but that wouldn’t stop his feelings towards the Vorga being in a jumble. He was struggling to understand how he felt about her, as they’d been friends for many years. In itself friendship with a Vorga was rare and unusual, which made him realise how lucky he’d been.
During the fighting Gorraxi had sustained a few minor injuries but they were already healing. While Choss had slept in a bed she’d returned to the healing bosom of the deep water to recuperate.
“You want to ask me something?” said Gorraxi without looking around. Her face was in profile, her eyes studying the waves. She seemed more pensive than Choss was used to, but she seemed happy to have company.
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