by J. W. Webb
Derino blocked his thrust with the heavy mace. Its long spikes trapped a blade, causing Barin to lose his balance. With a vicious jerk, Derino yanked the mace toward him, wrenching Wyrmfang from Barin’s slipping grasp. He stabbed low with the sax but Barin’s forearm impacted the flat of the blade, knocking it aside.
Derino kicked out striking Barin’s groin with his steel-shod boot. Barin let his anger swallow the pain. Despite that he doubled over, trying desperately to catch his breath. Barin lashed out with his left fist, he grabbed the sax below the blade, twisted and wrenched it from Derino’s grasp. He swung hard but Derino’s mace battered the weapon aside again, leaving Barin exposed.
Derino grinned beneath his helm. He brought the spiked mace back for a killing swing but stopped short. A dark shape crossed his vision. Derino glimpsed a raven settling on the battlements a yard to his right. The gallows bird. Derino felt suddenly cold under that beady gaze. He hesitated for the briefest instant then swung the mace again.
Barin was ready. He ducked beneath the mace swing, then launched his bulk up into Derino’s midriff. Barin’s right fist impacted the leather padding of the buckle clasped under Derino’s helmet.
Derino’s head snapped back with a jolt. Derino tried bringing the mace down but Barin twisted aside and slammed another fist into Derino’s armoured gut. Despite his iron protection the force of that blow buckled Derino.
He swung wild with the mace. Barin stepped close, caught Derino’s outstretched right arm. Barin tugged. With a sickening wrench the Northman brought Derino’s armoured arm down upon his thigh and snapped the bone above the elbow. Derino yammered. Barin’s upper leg was oozing gore from Derino’s torn armour. Again he ignored the pain.
Derino slid a dagger into his palm. He jabbed hard at Barin’s face with his left hand, the right dangling uselessly at his side.
Barin’s fist battered the dagger from his enemy’s grasp. It clattered loudly on the stone behind. Barin grinned horribly then rammed both fists hard into the broad nose guard marking the centre of Derino’s helmet.
The helm bucket inward and Derino gagged as it pummelled his nose to pulp. Derino staggered forward, his vision blurred and the buckled helmet choking him. Barin kicked him hard under the groin, again ignoring the pain as his boot crunched into that armour. The force of that kick actually lifted the big man off his feet. Derino fell to his knees groping for a weapon—any weapon.
Barin calmly retrieved Wyrmfang from the stone, stored the axe in its loop and flexed his fingers. Silence settled on the east wall. Friend and foe both watched in awe waiting for the outcome.
Derino tried to get to his feet but Barin booted him in the helmet again, tearing the sole from his right boot. Derino groped.
Tired of watching, Barin reached down, seizing Derino by his broad leather mace belt with one hand and grabbing his helmet buckle with another.
Barin wrenched the choking Derino from his feet. He hoisted his enemy’s body high over his head so that all on the wall and below could see. Then with a bear-savage roar, Barin tossed Derino’s body far out over the wall. Derino screamed as he plunged from the battlements. His cries ceased when his neck and back snapped like twigs on the stony, blood-strewn grass below.
Two of Derino’s surviving thugs leapt at Barin but Zukei cut them down, while Fassof, Taic and Cogga and company set upon the others. Beyond them, Groil and masked warriors crashed into each other in their confusion. Lacking a leader, they’d lost direction. Barin grinned. They might still be outnumbered but for now at least they were winning.
Seize the moment! Barin didn’t hesitate.
“Come on, the day is ours!” he yelled, seizing the advantage and sensing possible victory. At his side, the surviving soldiers of Calprissa found new strength. They’d witnessed his fight with Derino and now believed Barin capable of anything.
The giant from the north who’d come to save them. The boy Pont had seen the whole contest with horn helmet. Pont’s brown eyes were shining with pride as he took his place with the men.
At Barin’s shout they hurled themselves at the shaken foe and their sudden fury turned events on the east wall. The enemy were driven back to their ladders, most hacked down before they reached them. The Calprissans fought with renewed confidence and direction, mopping up the enemy until none remained standing on the east wall. They kicked the ladders away and scowled down at the remaining enemy below.
Barin, his rage having subsided, felt exhausted. He threw a bucket of cold water over his head and grunted. That had been some scrap. Derino was one hard bastard.
“Zukei?” The dark girl loomed into view. “Glad you’re alive, girl. Do me a favour, go check on Lady Shallan and her father.” Zukei nodded and sprinted off.
“Bloody good lassie, that one,” Fassof said, watching her leave.
Barin nodded and yawned. “That she is.” He glanced down from the parapet. “Who the fuck are they?” The mate joined him and gawped down. Below, and to their left nearer the gates, were silver-clad riders surrounded by the enemy. Who they were and how they had got there, Barin had no notion. But one thing was certain. They needed help and fast.
“Come on!” Barin bid Fassof follow him. Together they trotted along the wall to see more clearly. “Archers—we need you here!” Fassof yelled as he ran past.
Barin stopped alongside the gate parapet. He stared down, at last recognising Raleenians and Kelwynians fighting in a tight circle below. The enemy’s entire might was bearing down on them. Within minutes they would break under that strain. Others joined them to watch, including some archers who started raining shafts down on the enemy horde below.
Barin studied the fight for a moment, trying desperately to discern who led the Kelwynians. He saw a sandy-haired warrior yelling orders, the helmet having been knocked from his head. Then he saw a slender figure with sword in either hand, petit for a warrior. Beside the armoured figure stood a boy waving a sword like a stick and jumping about. Barin knew that youth. Cale. And now he realised who it was stood beside him.
Queen Ariane.
Fuck.
And he’d thought her safe in Wynais.
“Open the gates, you morons!” Barin leapt toward the stairway leading down to the east gates. Men gaped at him but parted like chaff to allow him through. “Open those fucking gates before I brain the lot of you!”
“What? Why?” Two guards gawped up at him speeding like thunder toward them.
“Just do it!” The guards were still dithering when Barin leapt down amongst them.
“Must I do everything myself in this city?”
The seven gate guards just stared back up at him as if he had lost his reason. Fassof grabbed the nearest by the ear and threw him into the gate.
“Lend a hand,” he said. Meanwhile single-handedly Barin was lifting the huge bars locking the gates and hurling them aside.
“But why?” someone managed to say.
“Because your queen is outside, dickhead.” Barin tugged the left gate toward him. At least there wasn’t a portcullis. Fassof hurled his weight alongside and then everyone else joined in.
“Thanks, lads,” said Barin as the door swung wide. “Couldn’t have managed without you.” Barin loped through the gates, Fassof behind him. Taic and Cogga arrived at that point after tossing the last of Derino’s thugs off the walls.
“Come on,” Barin said. “Let’s go tidy up.” He unslung Wyrmfang and roared out into wasteground beyond the gate.
Chapter 44
The Assassin
The hall was a cacophony of blood and noise. It was filled with the groans of the dying and stank of sweat and fear. The anguished faces of the wounded bedridden stared up at Shallan as she hastened toward a backroom.
It was in that quiet room, a blood-soaked healer informed her, that the duke would be found. Kind Cormalian had placed Tomais as far from the carnage as was possible. Shallan reached the door to his room. She turned the handle, pushed it open discovering her father’s un
conscious body sprawled half naked across the marble floor.
“Father!” Shallan crouched down beside him. She lifted his frail head and kissed the thin bloodless lips. His rheumy eyes opened slowly. A weak smile greeted her.
“I heard the sound of battle… I fear Vangaris is under attack… see to your mother, Shallan. I always loved her despite that business with the faun.”
“Father.” Shallan felt fresh tears stream down her face. “Morwella has fallen, Father. It is lost and Mother is dead. Your wife. Oh, Father!”
Then a cold voice laughed.
“What a tender sight to behold.”
Shallan turned. There he stood, not looking his best. Clearly Rael Hakkenon had had a rough day. The Assassin’s bloodstained arms were folded and he slouched languidly against the door. The rapier he’d thrust point first into the floorboards.
Shallan’s mouth framed a warning scream but the Assassin placed a finger to his lips. “Silence, lover. Let us not be interrupted, else I get careless. We wouldn’t want that, would we? My patience has been frayed of late. I might…slip and do something nasty.”
He leaned forward, plucked the blade free and almost affectionately placed his rapier’s point against the groaning duke’s throat. “It would be an act of mercy—judging by the state of him.”
“Get away from him, you little shit!” Shallan yanked the knife free from her belt. “If it’s me you want then take me and be done. But let my father live!”
“A tempting offer, my dear. If only I had more time, or indeed the inclination.” Rael’s expression was thoughtful, regretful even. Shallan lunged at him with the knife but he kicked it from her hand with contemptuous ease. She grabbed her bow resting by the bedside, swung it at him.
Rael caught her arm at the wrist, cruelly twisting it and wrenching the bow free of her grasp. Rael examined the weapon with a raised eyebrow. He smiled lovingly at her, then with sudden violence brought the bow down hard on his knee, snapping it clean in two.
“However,” Rael watched her like a lazy cat surveying its cornered prey. “I have need of you both as insurance to get me safely away from these walls.”
“You have failed again, Assassin,” Shallan spat at him. “Your men are all dead!”
“Lucky for them, I’d say.”
Rael wiped the spittle from his left eye. He licked his fingers and grinned at her. “And if they’re not they will be before long, the useless tossers. But the majority of my chieftains remained with my fleet. That lies primed and ready just a few miles offshore. I wanted to be involved in Calprissa’s fall, but not that involved. I do have other matters to attend to.”
“You won’t pull this off.” Shallan’s words lacked conviction.
“Yes I will.” Rael traced the rapier along the duke’s exposed back, scoring a shallow wound. Shallan’s face tightened but she dare not move.
“Once I have bundled you and your decrepit father on the Serpent, I’ll return with in full force and raze this irksome city to the ground, if that hasn’t happened already. Caswallon will owe me big time.
“I didn’t want to commit all my ships in the first instance,” Rael explained reasonably. “I needed to witness how Caswallon’s army behaved before getting too ensconced and risking my whole force. Just as well I did as I’ve never seen such a useless bunch of tossers. That Derino hasn’t got a clue. They should have taken the city by now. Calprissans, like most Kelwynians, are cowards.”
“You’re wrong, villain.”
It was a new voice that had spoken. Shallan recognised the thin face of Cormalian the healer. He had silently entered the room from the main hall. His expression was bleak but he confronted the Assassin without any show of fear.
“Your fleet was caught off guard and destroyed utterly by the queen’s re-formed navy,” Cormalian announced and a slow smile lifted the right corner of his lips.
“That little bitch has no navy, just sharp teeth and a foul mouth.” Rael Hakkenon’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the healer. His fingers stroked the ornate guard of his rapier. “You, physician, are a liar and will soon be a dead liar.”
“I speak truthfully,” replied the old man, giving the Assassin look for look. “Queen Ariane ordered her vessels refitted for war under secret hangers up in Port Wind. This was done most promptly. Her fleet is not vast but sufficient enough to deal with your vermin.”
Rael’s eyes narrowed to slits of jade.
Cormalian watched the rapier’s point. “When Caswallon’s army was spotted they sailed south from Port Wind and caught your lot lurking about. The navy captain sent bird to Lord Tolruan. We guessed you pirates would be predictable and rush to aid your accomplice in Kelthaine. You are trapped, Assassin. It—”
Cormalian gasped as sudden pain lanced deep into his belly. He sighed, looking down at the slender steel pinning him to the door. The healer gave Shallan an apologetic look and then slumped forward. Rael twisted the blade free with a savage jerk and Cormalian sunk to the floor in a pool of blood. Within seconds he was dead. As an afterthought Rael had dipped his steel in a jar of belladonna he’d found among the seriously wounded, deeming it might prove useful.
“Well then. I’d better take no chances in case there was some truth in that old fool’s words.” Rael studied the girl, who still watched him with silent loathing. “Oh come on, you didn’t expect me to let him live, did you? You know my reputation.”
“I hate you.”
“So does everyone else. It’s lonely being me.” Rael examined a fingernail, pulling a rose thorn out from where it had been lodging since his encounter with the rambler on the west wall.
“We’ll leave your father here, I think,” Rael told her, sucking his finger. “I’ll settle for your company just now, my lovely.” He lunged at Shallan with his left hand and grasping her wrist, pulled her towards him with a savage wrench. Shallan lashed out with her fists but was rewarded by a hard slap that made her head spin.
“Come now, sweetest.” Rael twisted Shallan’s arm cruelly behind her back, making her cry out in pain. “I see you are in need of some training,” Rael slapped her again, harder this time making her nose bleed.
Shallan tried to pull away from him but Rael’s grip was like corded iron.
“Maybe I should have you here, after all. In this very room. It’s not true what they say about me you know. All fucking lies. Besides, there are many ways of obtaining pleasure—not just the obvious. Imagination is a marvellous thing.”
Rael’s jade eyes mocked her futile resistance. “A last spectacle for your dying father. Send him on his way, the poor old fool.” Rael laughed, pulling her closer into his embrace.
But Shallan had anticipated this move. She waited until his probing right hand passed close to her mouth. She drew her lips back in a snarl and her teeth crunched down on his bejewelled index finger.
Shallan bit hard. Rael snarled in pain and pulled his hand free. He gaped in stunned horror at the nearly severed index finger hanging from his right hand by a thin gobbet of sinew. Rage filled him. With a violent snarl he threw the girl across the room. Shallan’s body struck the wall with a thud, bruising her badly.
“You fucking whore, I’ll slit your throat for that and feed your body to the crows!”
Rael reached for her again. This time his eyes were murderous with outrage. He froze gasping in sudden pain. Unnoticed by them both, Duke Tomais had reached beneath the bed and retrieved Shallan’s slender dagger.
With the last of his dying strength the duke had thrust it upward deep into the Assassin’s exposed flesh. The dagger pierced Rael Hakkenon’s thigh just above the knee. It passed clean through, narrowly missing the artery.
Rael coughed in pain. He sliced out with the rapier. The duke sighed as the narrow blade punctured his lungs three times. His emaciated body collapsed and lay prone on the bloody rush-strewn floor.
Rael stabbed him four more times and then turned toward Shallan.
And Shallan screamed.
; Rael lowered the rapier. “Your turn, bitch.” He stopped and, hearing a noise outside, cocked an ear to the door. The sound of many steel-shod feet approaching fast.
Rael Hakkenon reached down slowly, his eyes never leaving Shallan. With a grunt he pulled the dagger free from his gushing leg.
“Time I wasn’t here.”
Rael gave her a last contemptuous glance then leapt one-legged toward the lone window at the far side of the room. With a panther’s grace and swiftness despite his injured leg, Rael heaved his battered torso up to the high ledge above. He tore the useless finger free from his hand with his teeth, then spat it on the floor in front of Shallan.
“A trophy, lest you fucking forget me.” Rael grinned like a gargoyle. “Until next time then.” He smashed the glass with an elbow, wormed his bleeding body through the gap and then jumped clear, landing badly on the turf a score of feet below and hobbling to his feet.
Shallan staggered across to the window. She heard the Assassin shout out as he fell. “Gods curse you, Assassin!” No answer. Rael Hakkenon was gone.
Zukei arrived just ahead of the guards. Together they crashed into the room and were greeted by the sight of the Lady of Morwella stooped weeping over the prone body of her father the duke.
“The Assassin—capture him!” shouted the leader, seeing the smashed window pane. “He cannot have got far!” Half a dozen soldiers sped off to apprehend the pirate chief. Their leader stayed put, as did Zukei.
Shallan wiped her face clear of tears as her father smiled up at her through his pain. His fever had broken at last. His eyes now glistened with knowing clarity. But Tomais hadn’t long, for the poison on Rael Hakkenon’s blade would soon take hold.
“I am spent, my daughter,” Duke Tomais whispered. “Finished. It is now down to you, my beloved. Return to our land, Shallan. You are Duchess now. Find your brothers if they still live and free our people.”
“I will,” she sobbed, cradling his head in her arms and unable to speak further.