“That’s right. When the guards have been dealt with, you need to open the gate and get the prisoners down there. Once you’re in the city sewers they’ll never be able to track you.”
“They’re a maze right enough…So who did you say was going to deal with the guards in the dungeon?”
She winked at him.
“Just like that, eh?”
“It should be fairly straightforward for a resourceful fellow like you.”
“One thing; how do we get into the sewer when the gates are all warded shut? Nothing can open them except the King or Corvinius.”
“The rightful King, the Captain of the Watch and the heir to the throne. Prince Talin can open them.”
As much as he hated to admit it, the knight’s confidence was infectious, perhaps dangerously so. Nevertheless, he felt like his burden had lessened since he’d rescued her. Hyram wouldn’t agree; he could hear the old man now, ordering him to leave everyone except the Queen. If he knew what they were planning, he’d explode.
“If me and my people are going to try and rescue everyone in the dungeon, does that mean you’re going after the Queen and the Princes alone?”
She didn’t even pause to think about it before she answered. “Aye. Now listen; I need you to get a message to Master Armourer Bainley. He should be at his forge here in the Arth, if he isn’t in the dungeons or dead. D’you know him?”
“Not personally, but if he’s here I’ll find him. Why do you need him?”
“Horses. Tell him we need four and that he’s to take them west, to the wood on the edge of the water meadow, down by the rotten oaks. Tell him to wait for me there and tell him to hurry.”
“He won’t be able to get horses out of the city.”
“He won’t have to. His sister lives by Tyris Bridge. That’s where you’ll find him if he isn’t in the Arth. So I hope those little legs can run because you might have to cover some ground.” She grinned.
He didn’t take offence at the friendly dig; truth be told, it was nice to see a smile. It had been a tense week of sneaking around and avoiding patrols while trying to work out what the fuck he was going to do with the limited resources at his disposal.
“Don’t worry; I’ll saddle up a cat if I have to go over to Tyris.”
She laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. We’ll take the Queen and her sons out through the old boathouse and make our way along the river bank, under the curtain wall. That way we don’t have to fight our way out of the city, or risk being spotted trying to swim the river.”
“The old boathouse has a warded gate…” said Garian, and then he remembered. “Ah, Prince Talin.”
Time would tell if she was over confident and his trust misplaced, but right now she’d given him hope, which was more than he’d had a few hours ago. Hyram wouldn’t agree, he’d say she was reckless. When he thought about his master—that his life depended on their actions—Garian was suddenly seized by doubt. “What happens if you fail?”
She looked him in the eye, her gaze steady. “I won’t.”
“But how will I know that you’ve succeeded?”
Despite the voice of his mentor ringing in his ears he wanted her to give an answer he could believe. He’d failed Hyram and Prince Olin once already; he couldn’t fail them again.
“Corvinius will be here any minute. It must be what? Almost seven? I’ll be at the Queen’s apartments in an hour. That’s when you need to be in the dungeon with your people.”
“And I’ll know you’ve freed the Prince and opened the gates how?”
“By trying them. I’m sorry, Master Tain, ‘tis the best I can do. You’ll have to have a bit of faith.”
“Faith, eh? Not something I go in for much in my line of work.”
“D’you have faith in your comrades?”
“They’re as skilled and as well trained as any knight,” he answered proudly.
“Then there’s no reason we should fail. I have never lost a battle and I don’t intend to start by letting Rufus Corvinius and his fucking Rusties beat me.”
“Beat us, you mean, and I hope that’s confidence not arrogance talking, Captain Stenna.”
She grinned. “It’s a little of both, Master Tain.”
Corvinius arrived soon after they’d finalised their plans. Alyda was sitting on the chair, holding the rope behind her back. Now that her headache had gone and her anger had cooled, she noticed how drawn and dishevelled Corvinius looked. A sick animal…
“I’m sorry about this, but you didn’t give me a choice. I can’t trust you, ‘Lyda. If I had a soul stone I’d damn well make you join me.”
“That would satisfy you? Knowing that I was only with you because you compelled me with magic?”
“Yes, it would,” he said earnestly. “Have you decided?”
She didn’t answer.
“You don’t owe the King or Trease anything. Antians have oppressed your people for centuries, why fight for them? Live for yourself, ‘Lyda, as they have done.”
“I can’t,” she said. It was an honest answer amid all the subterfuge.
Corvinius unsheathed his dagger. “You’re a stupid, stubborn woman. You could be queen of your own kingdom, but instead you’re choosing to die, and for what?”
“For my honour and my oath, Rufus. If you weren’t such a self-centred fa’cachta you’d understand.”
Anger flashed across his face. He took a two handed grip on the dagger. “I’m glad you said that—you’ve reminded me why I need to do this. Even though I know I’m going to regret it when I’m sober.” He raised the knife.
Tain had been hiding behind the bed curtain, and had been slowly creeping up on Corvinius since the knight entered the room.
“No you won’t,” said Tain, and cracked him over the head with a chair leg.
Alyda leapt up and caught Corvinius before he hit the ground. Tain relieved him of his weapons.
“Neatly done, Master Tain.”
“You’ve no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
Tain listened at the door. After a few tense minutes he gave her the all clear. She slapped Corvinius across the face. It took a few attempts to bring him round but eventually he opened his eyes. He groaned when he saw the knife at his throat. “I knew you’d be my downfall.”
“Do as you’re told, Rufus and you’ll live to hang another day,” said Alyda.
The Arth was swathed in shadows and as quiet as a tomb. Alyda strode confidently along the corridor, arm-in-arm with Corvinius, a dagger pressed against his ribs.
She’d given him his sword back after tying it discreetly into the scabbard. She’d also had to swap the hunting knife for the spy’s smaller blade. She wasn’t happy about that; if Corvinius tried to break free or raise the alarm, she’d be hard pressed to stop him with a fruit knife. She’d have to trust that Corvinius’s well-developed sense of self-preservation would win out over any altruistic desire he might have to warn his knights.
“You really are full of yourself, aren’t you, ‘Lyda? Do you honestly think that you and that little, torch cul can liberate the Queen and her brats? Two of you, against three hundred?”
Alyda had to laugh; it was either that or knife him. “Since when have any number of Rusties or mercs been a match for a real knight?”
“I wasn’t going to kill you, you know,” he confessed.
She pushed the blade against his ribs. “Shut up, Rufus because have no doubt, I will kill you.”
She took a deep breath and tried to look at ease as they entered the corridor that led to the Queen’s apartments. There were two guards outside. One was slouching by the door, the other was taking a piss against the wall. Like their Captain, they’d obviously been enjoying the contents of the wine cellar. A dozen empty bottles lay strewn across the floor.
“Remember what you’re doing, Rufus, or—”
“You’ll do something unmentionable to me. Fear not, my love; I know my part.” He cle
ared his throat. The guards saw him, and jumped to attention.
“At ease, Toral,” said Corvinius to the shorter of the two.
This would be easier than she’d thought, they both looked drunk. The one he called Toral was as wide as he was tall. By the way he was ineptly juggling his sword and bow it looked like he spent as much time in the practice yard as she did in the scriptorium. While the guard unlocked the door, Alyda kept her eye on Corvinius. If he was going to try to warn them, it would be now.
“I do hope the Queen isn’t still snivelling. We don’t want her looking a mess when the Guthani arrive.” Corvinius grinned at Alyda.
Toral puffed out his chest. “She wailed a fair bit when they brought in that little shit Talin. By the looks of him he’d had a bit of a kicking, but she soon shut up when I told her. You know me, Captain, I won’t put up with any nonsense.”
Alyda kept hold of Corvinius until they were inside and she heard the door lock behind them. Talin was standing in front of his mother and brother. His face was bruised and his shirt torn and blood stained. A broad smile lit up his face when he saw her. Alyda put her finger to her lips and gestured to a braided cord dangling from the curtains. Talin ripped it down and used it to bind Corvinius’s hands behind his back before shoving him into a chair.
“What do you think you’re going to achieve, ‘Lyda? You’ll never get out of the Arth,” said Corvinius.
“We got past you,” she said, and then turned to Talin. “Talin, you must command the Ward to open the sewer gate so that Garian Tain and his companions may pass through. Do it now—and while you’re at it, revoke Corvinius’s ability to command them.”
“The Ward, of course.” Corvinius laughed. “If only I’d thought of that. Too much wine I suppose, but it doesn’t matter; you’ll never be able to avoid all of the knights between here and the sewers. Not even the heroic Captain of the Hammer can fight her way through two hundred warriors.”
“Shut up, Rufus, or I swear I will end you right now.” Alyda hoped he believed her.
“And if she doesn’t,” Talin added, “I will.”
Corvinius smirked, but held his tongue.
Talin closed his eyes and touched the wall. A short time passed before he opened them again.
“It’s done. We need to get out of here, Ali. I overheard the guards talking; the Guthani are coming. They intend to use us to force my father to abdicate in favour of my uncle.”
“That cannot be allowed to happen,” Thea croaked. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy from crying.
“I know. Don’t worry—I have a plan.” Alyda suddenly remembered who the sniffling woman was and bowed. “Forgive me for being brusque, Majesty.”
“No need to apologise, Captain. As for you,” Thea turned to Corvinius. “You will pay for what you have done. There’s a cold place in the Void reserved for traitors like you.”
“There aren’t any traitors like me, and please; spare me your peasant’s view o’ the Void and who warrants entry. If killing to get what you want is a criterion for admittance, your husband and his ancestors will surely be there ahead of me.”
The Queen recoiled, stung by his words. Talin looked close to punching the smug grin off Corvinius’s face. Alyda stepped in and grabbed the disgraced knight by his shirt. “You can plan for your future when the rope’s around your neck, right now we have to get out of here, and you are going to help us.”
His mother and Olin locked themselves in her bedchamber; Talin positioned himself behind Corvinius, who they’d sat in a chair opposite the door. Alyda was standing next to the door with her back to the wall and the traitor’s sword in hand. She signalled Corvinius; the knight said nothing. Talin showed him the blade and gestured at the door with its tip.
“Toral,” Corvinius shouted with little enthusiasm. “Get your arse in here. The old bitch is sick.”
That was it. Talin grabbed Corvinius by the hair; he was going to cut the bastard’s throat. Alyda gestured furiously for him to stop as the key turned in the lock. Much as he wanted to draw the knife across Corvinius’s throat, he let him go.
The short knight ambled in. Before he’d taken two paces into the room, Alyda swung her sword, and hacked into the side of his neck. The blade bit deep. Blood sprayed across the room. The knight gurgled a cry and fell, clutching his throat.
The second Rusty was standing open-mouthed in the doorway. By the time she managed to drag her eyes away from her dying comrade, it was too late. Alyda spun on her heel, sidestepped and thrust her sword between the plates of the knight’s cuirass. She gasped; Alyda grabbed her arm and pulled her onto the blade. The dying guard squeezed the trigger of the crossbow, the bolt buried itself the ceiling. Alyda dragged her inside, and kicked the door closed.
Talin had seen people die in the lists and he’d witnessed two executions, but he’d never seen killing like that. The woman he loved had just slaughtered two people in front of him without breaking a sweat, without a moment’s pause. He knew that was what she did, but to see it, to hear the bubbling rattle of a man choking to death on his own blood, and that smell; like honey mixed with hot iron… Disgusted and on the point of heaving, he tore down a curtain and covered the twitching corpses.
Corvinius didn’t look even slightly aggrieved that two of his knights had been butchered in front of him. The bastard was smiling at Alyda.
“Get your mother and brother,” she said to Talin as she wiped the Rusties blood off her face.
The shadows were kind to Garian and his accomplices as they made their way to the dungeon to do the exact opposite of what Hyram would have wanted. He wasn’t sure how Stenna had convinced him to do the right thing, for the wrong reasons, but like when he rescued Suli, it felt good. If only it could offset some of the wrong he’d done for the right reasons—for the good of the kingdom, but he doubted that.
He led the unlikely group down the unguarded stairwell to the cells. With him were a pastry cook, two scullery maids, a pantry boy, and a footman. All of them were agents; all had been playing those roles when Corvinius had staged his takeover. Garian was playing himself. Having ditched the robe he was dressed in nondescript, dark shirt and breeches. He might very well die, but it wouldn’t be because he tripped over the hem of that bloody liability.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and signalled for the others to wait. He could hear snatches of conversation coming from the guardroom. After listening for a few minutes he edged closer and stole a look inside. Two armoured guards were sitting at a table in the middle of the room; a third was warming herself by a brazier in the corner, they weren’t Rusties. Opposite the stairs was a weapon rack. A corridor stretched off to the left.
Bloody mercenaries. He’d have preferred to take on a group of out of shape Rusties, but six against three was still good odds. He signed to his comrades how many there were and how they were going to attack them. One of the scullery maids spanned and loaded a heavy crossbow. Garian unhooked the handbow from his belt and did the same. They crept down the stairs while the others waited.
Garian mouthed, “One, two, three.” On three they stepped into the room, picked their targets and let fly. Garian’s bolt struck the knight by the brazier in the back. The slender shaft snapped with a loud crack as it hit the steel cuirass she was wearing beneath her surcoat. The scullery maid fared little better. Her bolt struck one of the seated guards in the face, scoring a bloody gouge in his cheek before flying past and shattering against the wall.
The warrior roared, grabbed a mace off the table and jumped to his feet. Cursing, the other guard flung the table aside and snatched up an axe. Garian dropped the bow and drew his knife as the one he’d hit ran at him swinging a battle axe. The rest of the agents charged down the stairs.
The cook ran over to Garian and blocked the mercenary’s blow with her sword. The blade locked against the hook of the axe, but the mercenary was quick and twisted her weapon, pulling the cook off balance and within reach of the dagger she had in her offhand. Too la
te, Garian saw the blade. All he could do was shout a warning, unable to get at the mercenary because the cook had come between them. The mercenary ripped the blade up, into the cook’s stomach, two hard jabs that spilled her guts. The cook went down and died in a spreading pool of her own blood and entrails.
The mercenary stepped over the body and took a swing at Garian’s head with the axe, at the same time slashing at his stomach with the dagger. He jumped back; narrowly avoiding both attacks, but caught his heel on the bottom step and fell backwards. The mercenary had him. Garian watched the axe descend, but as she closed for the kill she slipped in the cook’s blood.
Garian seized his chance and rolled aside. The axe whistled down and struck chips of stone from the step where his head had been. He rolled back, and using his body weight to add strength to his arm, stabbed the knife into the unarmoured hollow of the mercenary’s knee. She howled in pain and fell forward, tearing the knife from his grasp. Before she had a chance to recover, he leapt on her back, grabbed her head, and smashed her face against the steps until she stopped moving.
Heart pounding, he turned to see how his comrades were faring. The pantry boy and the footman had one of the other mercenaries cornered. The wiry pantry boy was ferociously quick with the rapier he was using. He darted in and feigned an attack while the footman, who was armed with a poleaxe he’d taken from the rack, thrust at the mercenary’s body. There was a high-pitched screech of metal against metal, but the poleaxe failed to pierce the fluted breastplate. However the force of the blow slammed the mercenary against the wall, where the footman pinned him long enough for the pantry boy to step in and open his unprotected throat.
Across the other side of the room, one of the scullery maids went down with the side of her head smashed in. The other maid avenged her by stabbed her killer in the face, dropping him instantly.
As suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. The scullery maid tossed the sword she’d been using and positioned herself at the bottom of the stairs where she spanned and reloaded the crossbow. Garian searched the mercenaries. When he found the keys, he rushed to unlock the cells.
The Red Knight Page 22