by Phil Parker
‘You’ve got to be joking!’ she snapped and my ardour died immediately.
The wind increased as the storm moved on, it battered and rattled doors, blew open the shutters, made curtains swirl like rampant ghosts. I jumped up and hurried to close them again, in the courtyard there was movement, dark shapes clung to the sides of the wall for protection.
‘Poor sods!’
I jumped back into bed. Not that long ago rushing around in the rain would have been my task.
‘Who are?’
‘The poor buggers downstairs securing the building against the storm.’
I snuggled up against the wonderful warm body that smelled of soap, thankful for the luxury of a comfortable bed and the beautiful woman in it. Sleep wasn’t far away, I could hear it calling. A chance to escape the endless politics that filled my life now Cernunnos had left and palace gossip rife. I’d got the support of many of the servants, who were happy to pass on what was being said about me by their masters and mistresses, even Irvyn, who said I was a hero if I was going to bring fairness to the palace.
I heard voices downstairs. I lay still and listened. It sounded like orders being given. Likely someone getting an early start on clearing up the rubble of the West Tower.
‘Keir. Get up. Get dressed.’
Darcel was out of bed in an instant, hurriedly putting on trousers and a leather shirt, clothes she wore when she worked out with some of the soldiers. I groggily stumbled out of bed.
‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know but soldiers are moving downstairs.’
‘How do you know it’s soldiers?’
Fully dressed she punched my arm hard. ‘Get dressed. Quickly.’
She sprinted out of the bedroom without making a sound, though the wind still rattled the building’s loose fittings. I followed Darcel’s choice of apparel, practical clothes that would also be waterproof. We’d talked of Cernunnos moving against me but I didn’t think he would do it in these conditions, or so quickly, or by using military force. It would be too obvious, cause too much unrest.
I finished tying up my boots as Darcel appeared in the doorway.
‘We need to go. Quickly. They’ve come for you.’
I’d been wrong in my judgements of the bastard.
I followed Darcel into the corridor and slipped beneath a heavy tapestry of some ancient battle that hung in front of a door to a servant’s staircase. Heavy boots pounded along the wooden floor as we closed the door behind us, they’d find us gone in seconds. We had to hurry. Darcel wits were the reason for our permanent readiness and they represented another reason for loving her as much as I did.
Having lived my life as a servant in the Dark Palace I knew every part of it, especially the way you could move through the building without being seen. The original architects knew servants needed to be invisible, they couldn’t be seen carrying unsavoury items along the corridors of the powerful. Knowledge proving valuable now.
Darcel reasoned our pursuers expected us to aim for the quickest way out, a quick dash to the ground floor. Her answer was to go upstairs. Sure enough, as we reached the top of the narrow staircase, below us the door burst open and heavy footsteps clomped on stone slabs to hurry downwards. Darcel grinned at me, she looked so beautiful I had to kiss her before opening the door onto the top floor landing.
There were more bedrooms here. Once used when the palace held huge social gatherings, until Oberon’s paranoia brought them to a bloody end, they were storage places now. Dusty sheets sprawled across beds and furniture like shrouds. There were no lights on this floor so we crept along the main corridor in darkness, navigating by touch. It was slow progress and, in the meantime, we heard shouts and commands below us, the search had begun in earnest.
At the end of the corridor was a narrow door, a rusty key conveniently in its lock. I turned it, heard its tumblers grind and complain until they finally cooperated. I pushed the door open to be met by a gusting wind that hurled dust sheets into the air, turning shrouds into ghosts. In front of us a wooden walkway led across a twenty-foot gap to a flat roof of the servants quarter of the palace. Rain drove into our faces, blinding us, wind robbed us of our breath. I clung on to the walkway’s railing and felt Darcel hold my waist tightly, I could feel her hands shake. We stumbled forwards until the elements eased as we stepped onto the flat roof and gained the protection of a squat, square building, a huge water tank.
‘I used to come up here when I was a kid, to avoid work,’ I called into Darcel’s ear, though the shrieking wind meant no one would have heard me if I’d screamed it. Between the water tank and the edge of the roof was a gap the width of two big men, safe on normal days but the swirling wind made it dangerous now.
‘Stay close to the wall,’ I said. As if it made sense to do anything else.
We edged along the side of the water tank, keeping our backs to it as the wind tried to snatch us up and hurl us to the courtyard below. The night sky flickered with lightning that played hide and seek amongst the clouds, if we didn’t hurry we’d be sitting ducks on this roof, fried ducks in fact. Taking careful steps on the wet concrete, we felt our way along the side of the building until we reached its corner where water poured from a broken guttering, hit the pathway and spilled over the edge of the roof.
‘The force of the water should go over our heads if we’re lucky.’
I went first. Slimy moss covered the concrete path, wet from the spray of the waterfall, its slippery surface posed our next danger. My hands were so cold I’d lost feeling in my fingers but I gripped the pitted wall and hoped to find something to hold on if my feet slid from under me. Freezing cold droplets hit my face, blinding me briefly. I kept my feet firmly planted on the moss, pressed down so my weight stopped me slipping. Step by patient step I edged forward, aware of the force of the water leaping off the gutter and into the darkness. I heaved a sigh of relief as I reached the other side.
Darcel looked frightened. I’d seen her fight assassins without a sign of fear. I called my reassurance but I doubted she could hear me. She stepped forward hesitantly and that was the problem. A lightning flash lit up the sky, it distracted her for a second, but it was enough. She slipped on the wet moss, lost her footing, and screamed. She flung her arms out to balance herself, I grabbed one with both hands, yanked her against me so hard she slammed into my chest. We stood facing each other, breathless and frightened. I grinned reassurance.
‘Not going to lose you now.’
The path brought us to a turret that rose into the roiling sky and another ancient door. The lintel stood proud of the wall, its key would be on it, for anyone following the route we’d just taken and finding the door locked. A few feet away were a couple of chairs, no doubt used by servants who liked to escape work and bask in the sun on hot summer days, I dragged one over to reach the lintel. The key was still there. Our luck held.
A narrow, spiral staircase led us down the turret, brought us out above the kitchen, to servants’ bedrooms. I’d once dreamed of the privilege of sleeping in such luxury, slaves were forced to make the most of cupboards and under staircases. I put a finger over my lips for Darcel’s benefit and we tiptoed across the wooden floor and in front of bedroom doors through which came a chorus of snores.
Another staircase led us down to the kitchen where I’d spent so many unhappy years. We hurried along a dark corridor I could have travelled blindfold. At the far end, where the corridor turned a ninety-degree corner into the kitchen itself, was a large door that befitted the woman who slept behind it, strategically placed to make sure no one stole any of the provisions for which she considered herself their custodian. We trod lightly, I made sure Darcel avoided the squeaky floorboard that would summon Mistress Cera with her rolling pin.
We’d just turned the corner when I heard the door open, the yellow warmth of a light crystal illuminated the corridor. The mountainous figure of Mistress Cera, in a nightdress that could have doubled as a tent, held the inevitable rolling p
in like a cudgel. She performed a double take as she registered who we were.
‘Sire!’ she attempted a curtsy that only made her belly and breasts wobble but the woman had no volume control on her voice.
I shushed her. It felt wrong, I half expected her to clout me. She frowned but it was from bewilderment, not anger. I hoped her promotion meant she wouldn’t call the guards so I explained what had happened. Now her frown did turn to anger.
‘Fuckin’ posh bastards!’ she said, scaling down the volume to a mild bellow.
Her eyes lit up suddenly, I thought it was purely from the hatred she felt for the aristocrats in the palace but she hurried through the corridor that took us to the courtyard where deliveries were made. She pointed to a four-wheeled utility cart.
‘Alan’s going to fetch the bread from the village in the morning. I’ll go wake him now and he can get it ready for you. You just wait there.’
Before we could argue, she’d gone, back the way we’d come. Alan was her ancient second-in-command and treated her as though she was the fount of all wisdom, he’d also tolerated me with an affability that counted as friendship in my lonely years in this place.
The idea had its merits, there were bound to be security checks of anyone leaving the palace, Alan’s trips to the bakery were a daily routine, with luck no one would question our departure.
The moment when I realised we didn’t have a destination.
I had never been outside of the palace except through the portal to the human realm, I didn’t know of a single place that could hide us. I shared my inadequacies with Darcel and we whispered desperate possibilities until Mistress Cera rumbled back, grinning, an expression I had never seen in my life.
‘Alan’s going to harness Cinnie now, she’s swift and spirited. She’ll get you where you need to go.’
Just as we hurried to the door leading to the courtyard, we heard the loud clomping of soldiers’ boots and yellow light crystals bobbed up and down in the darkness outside.
‘Search the kitchens!’ someone called. Peeking around the kitchen door we saw three light crystals split off from the others, coming in our direction.
I panicked, looked around for somewhere to hide, mentally plotted the route to the cart and knew we’d meet the search party and that Alan wouldn’t have finished harnessing the horse anyway. I turned to Darcel, saw her take a knife from her boot and ready it in her hand, she grinned at me.
‘This is what Mab trained me to do, my love.’
There was something about the way she said those last two words that worried me, there was a finality in her tone, a softness in her eyes. She was going to sacrifice herself if necessary. I started to tell her I wouldn’t allow it.
Three soldiers burst into the kitchen before I’d finished speaking, brandishing swords double the size of Darcel’s knife. Except they hadn’t encountered the angry queen of the kitchen. Mistress Cera roared. I mean, roared. It was her reaction to anything that went wrong in her domain. Like when I’d allowed milk to boil over the newly-cleaned range. Or the time Wynne ran headlong into the kitchen and collided with the tiny Lavena who was carrying a pile of dinner plates. Mistress Cera’s roar stunned everyone into a state of shock.
The soldiers were no different, they came to an abrupt halt, wide-eyed with astonishment. Cera was bigger than each of them, perhaps all of them put together. Her roar carried her forward, rolling pin swinging. It smacked the head of one soldier, dented his helmet and felled him instantly, he hit the floor and didn’t move. A second soldier foolishly tried reason, started to inform her of something, he managed to utter the word ‘Madam’ before joining his comrade on the floor. The third soldier realised diplomacy didn’t work and brandished his sword. She swung her rolling pin against his sword and kicked the guy between the legs at the same time. He doubled over with a loud groan and she finished him off by smacking her rolling pin into his face, leaving him unconscious and with blood streaming from his mouth. She held up her rolling pin like she still meant business and sniffed.
‘Get going!’ she snapped.
We ran into the dark courtyard, keeping close to the wall. The rain was petering out as the storm eased, in the east, over the stable buildings, the sky was turning purple, offering enough light so we could see where Cinnie waited, harnessed and ready to go.
The stables.
Anguish washed over me with cold realisation, it swirled and eddied back and forth as I fought with myself. We needed to escape now, the search party would find us at any moment. But there was every chance I would never return here, Cernunnos had acted fast and definitively. He would be able to tell any story he liked of my sudden disappearance. It was enough to make my decision easier.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I whispered.
I ran. Darcel said something, I knew she’d be angry, she wouldn’t understand. No one would.
In the stables I gave a low whistle, received a low moan a few seconds later. She hadn’t forgotten our signal. Cochrann’s long lizard-like head poked out the stable door, she gave me a welcome snort as I threw it open.
‘We need to run!’ I called, turned on my heels and sprinted back the way I’d come. She needed no other instruction, her thunderous feet on the cobbled stable yard ended any attempt at a secret departure but I reasoned she’d pose too great a threat to anyone trying to stop us, and leaving her behind was never a realistic option.
I rounded the stable gate and my heart leapt into my mouth. Five soldiers had Darcel pinned against the palace wall with their swords. Cochrann, all nine feet of height and twice that in length swung into view behind me. I couldn’t see their faces but the soldiers’ body language changed the instant they turned, to behold a large and ominous shape behind me. Two of them raised hesitant swords, the third grabbed Darcel, spun her round and held her to his chest, sword at her throat and called for help.
I ran towards them, knowing Cochrann would follow.
‘Let her go or the wyvern attacks!’ I yelled.
‘And your whore will have her throat opened!’
I stopped, just beyond the reach of the two swords now levelled at me, their owners’ body language had changed again. I glared at the man holding Darcel, furious at his insult. I could make out Darcel’s face in the darkness, her eyes held mine, she flashed me the smile she reserved for moments when she wanted to surprise me. I shook my head, my throat tightened, I was too late.
‘Whore am I?’
She must have kept her knife hidden, it appeared in her hand as she thrust it through the man’s ribcage, he screamed, a strange gargling noise as he slid down her body. Darcel had her knife ready as the others turned, ready for vengeance. The nearest drove his sword at Darcel, she dodged out of its way, pivoted ready to avoid a second soldier as he did the same thing.
I screamed for Cochrann to attack. She didn’t hesitate.
Her long, sinuous neck snapped forwards, grabbed a soldier by his neck, there was a crunch and he fell to the ground, minus his head. She reached for the other man, who reacted fast enough to avoid the same fate, he fell to the ground, rolled over several times so she couldn’t get her jaws around him without taking a chunk out of the courtyard.
Out of the darkness others appeared, shouting and cursing wyverns.
‘Get in the cart!’ Darcel screamed at me, ‘I’ll hold them off!’
‘You will not! We’re both getting out of this!’
Behind us Cochrann was scything through the rest of the men who’d held Darcel but others were arriving.
‘You take the reins then!’ Darcel yelled at me.
I clambered onto the driver’s seat, snatched the reins and looked behind me, Darcel dived onto the back of the cart, scuttling backwards to avoid a soldier as he jabbed his sword at her. She lashed out with one leg and booted him in the face, he collapsed screaming.
Cinnie was skittish, the cart jerked forwards, painfully wrenching my arms but we were away, Mistress Cera’s assessment of the horse was spot on,
she was fast. Behind me the heavy hooves of a galloping wyvern pounded the earth so that it shook, I heard more truncated screams but a quick glance over my shoulder showed our pursuers were getting left behind.
It was a temporary respite, ahead of us, at the palace gates, more soldiers waited.
Darcel climbed up to stand behind me, holding on to my shoulders as the cart rocked from side to side. She shouted over the rattle of the cart and the thunder of the wyvern.
‘I’ve got a surprise for them, don’t slow down.’
‘But…?’
She took out of her jacket pocket a bunch of tadpole-shaped marekanites that she held in the palm of her hand. She grinned.
‘Mab gave me them yesterday, just in case something like this happened.’
Soldiers, armed with pikes and swords, readied themselves though several looked fearfully at the dark outline of the monster advancing on them rapidly and noisily. They’d all seen dragons in action, they knew what damage they could inflict. Cochrann’s antics in the human realm had become the stuff of legend, I’d made sure of it.
Cinnie whinnied as the end of the road drew closer with every second and with no likelihood of slowing down, I just hoped she wouldn’t panic at the last minute and come to a halt, or rear up and turf us out of the cart. Soldiers pelted towards us and Darcel reached over me and threw the marekanites. They struck the ground directly in front of the huge wooden gate, in terms of sound and vision it was equal to the thunderstorm; it deafened, it blinded.
I snapped the reins, urged Cinnie onwards and called Cochrann. She must have been almost level with us I suppose, she raced past me amidst the smoke. I heard masonry fall and thud heavily on the ground, there were screams.
Behind me Darcel yelled something, I couldn’t hear what, I concentrated on driving the horse over mangled gates, broken bodies and on through the chaos. We burst out of thick smoke into clear air, Cochrann at our side, covered in bricks and mortar.