by Ben Cassidy
Kara’s eyes fell on some equipment piled up against one wall. There were some saddlebags, blankets, and canteens. She stepped over to them.
“Looks like someone was planning a hunting trip for the morning.”
Maklavir pulled open a stall, and tugged on Simon’s bridle. “Fascinating. Come on, you stupid mule!”
Simon brayed. He dug his feet in obstinately.
Kara moved a blanket, and pulled out a hunting bow that had been leaning against the wall. She picked up the quiver that had been lying next to it, eyed the arrows in it, and then slung it over her shoulder.
Maklavir let go of the bridle, and collapsed back against the stable wall. “This beast is absolutely intolerable. He won’t budge.”
The red-haired thief walked over, and produced an apple in her hand.
Simon’s eyes lit up and he lunged forward.
“Where in Zanthora did you get that?” asked Maklavir in astonishment.
Kara tempted Simon out of the stall with the fruit. “In one of those bags against the wall. Now get those other horses and let’s get out of here.”
The diplomat nodded, pulling down his cap. “No argument here.”
Kendril’s eyes blazed. His grip on the pistol tightened. “What are you talking about?”
Bronwyn clucked softly. “Hmm. Not as bright as I thought, after all. Too bad.”
He took a step forward. “Is Bathsby behind this?”
The young woman gave a sneering laugh. “Bathsby? Bathsby is a fool. He didn’t even have the courage to dispatch the King himself. No, my dear Kendril, Lord Bathsby is merely a pawn in a much larger game that he does not comprehend. I would have thought that you of all people would understand that.”
Kendril pushed the gun forward. “A pawn? For who?”
Bronwyn’s face darkened, though her smile remained. “Why for him, of course.” Her voice lowered. “He’s coming back to Zanthora, Kendril.”
His knuckles whitened slightly as he gripped the gun. “Who?”
Bronwyn’s eyes burned with a sudden fire. “Despair, Kendril. Your doom is near.”
He raised the pistol. Uncertainty crossed his face for the first time.
Bronwyn screamed.
The door to the room burst open. A captain of the Royal Guard barged in, a pistol in his hand. Behind him several more men followed, the fury showing on their faces.
Bronwyn wilted back against the hearth, terrified.
The captain leveled the pistol at the Ghostwalker. “Drop it!” he shouted.
Kendril whipped his own pistol around. His face tensed.
“Captain!” cried Bronwyn as she wilted against the wall. “He attacked me! Please—”
“She’s lying,” Kendril snarled. “Don’t listen to her!”
The Royal Guards began to move into the room. One leveled a crossbow at Kendril.
“You’re under arrest for murdering the King,” the captain said. “Drop the pistol or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Kendril backed up a step. His leg brushed the end of the bed. He glanced over at Bronwyn, his pistol still wavering towards the men in front of him.
The raven-haired beauty threw her hands across her breast. “He tried to kill me! Help me, please!”
“She’s lying to you,” Kendril said again.
The captain strode forward, his pistol pointed at Kendril’s head. “This is your last chance,” he shouted. “Surrender or die!”
Kendril turned his head towards Bronwyn.
The girl’s face was still filled with terror, but there was the slightest spark of mocking laughter in her eyes.
Kendril looked back at the Royal Guardsman. “Sorry, Captain,” he said. “Not today.”
Before the man could respond, Kendril hurled himself to the side.
Chapter 8
Joseph had just reached the second floor of the palace when he saw half a dozen Royal Guardsmen coming down the stairs toward him, all with weapons drawn. Sir Reginald was with them, his blue cloak fanning out behind him as he came. Joseph glanced back to see two more Guards coming up the stairs behind him.
He turned his head back towards Sir Reginald and the soldiers.
“What’s happened here?”
Sir Reginald’s lip twisted into a sneer. “Playing innocent? You must think us very stupid.” He pointed a gloved finger at the dumbfounded scout.
“Take him, gentlemen.”
The soldiers leapt forward.
Kendril caught the bed mattress with his free hand, then flipped it and all its covers towards the guards in front of him.
The captain’s pistol flared and blasted a hole through the top of the mattress. Feathers burst through the air. Two of the guards cursed and jumped out of the way.
Kendril hit the floor behind the bed just as a crossbow bolt tore into the chest of drawers behind him. He rolled out onto the veranda and kicked aside one of the doors, then dodged back behind one of the curtains.
One of the soldiers bounded around the bed. He pushed Bronwyn out of the way and sprinted towards the opening to the veranda.
Kendril leaned in and shot him in the chest.
The guard’s body slammed back against the hearth.
Kendril swung across the opening of the veranda to the curtain on the other side, then pulled out another pistol with his free hand. He fired it at the captain, who was struggling to draw his sword. Kendril missed, but the shot shattered a vase next to the man’s head.
The captain ducked back with a shrieked curse.
Kendril flattened himself against the outer wall. He looked around him desperately. The porch was small. There was only a short railing and a drop off on all sides.
The only way out was down.
Joseph figured that the time for talking was over.
He slashed out with his rapier and parried a blow from an over-eager guard, then thrust at another who came too close. Then there was nothing but a hail of blows and counter-blows, blades falling and rising with rapid succession.
Joseph fought like he had never fought before. One moment he smashed his elbow into one guard’s face, the next he hurtled an unlucky soldier down the stairs behind him. His expertise with the blade saved his life ten times over in as many seconds, but the soldiers were no amateurs themselves.
Joseph knew he couldn’t hold them off forever.
Sir Reginald was screaming something when Joseph dodged one last blow, and gashed his attacker’s arm as a parting memento. He jumped onto the railing dividing the stairways, and slid down towards the two startled guards running up towards him. At the last moment he leapt off and crashed into both of them.
The three of them tumbled down the last few stairs, and crashed hard into the wall.
A marble statue that had been standing in the corner of the landing crashed down on one of the soldiers, crushing the man’s leg. He screamed in pain as the guards at the top of the stairs raced down towards them.
Joseph jumped up, faster than the second soldier by half a heartbeat. He bashed the hilt of his rapier into the guard’s face, and flattened him back onto the floor.
Sir Reginald slid to a stop at the top of the stairs, his sword raised above his head. “Get him you fools!” he screamed.
Without looking behind him, Joseph dove towards the second flight of stairs that led down to the ground floor.
At this point, he thought, he would be lucky to get out of the palace alive.
“Halt!” said one of the guards, clutching his halberd with both hands.
Another soldier came out of the right-hand gatehouse, and drew a sword.
Maklavir tried to give as natural a smile as he could. “Why, whatever’s the matter, sergeant?”
He and Kara were on horseback, leading Kendril and Joseph’s mounts behind them. The drawbridge was right in front of them, leading out towards the rough path that led down to the city below. A large opening in the castle wall formed a small tunnel that led outside. On either side of the end of the
tunnel were two small rooms, both directly across from each other. Each controlled one of the two chains that raised and lowered the drawbridge.
The guard eyed them both suspiciously. “Can’t you hear the bell? No one leaves.” He barked a command over his shoulder, and a soldier disappeared into one of the gatehouses. A moment later there was a loud cranking noise, and the drawbridge began to rise.
Maklavir tugged nervously at his collar. “Surely you don’t mean to shut us in? We’ve done nothing wrong.”
The soldier sniffed. “We’ll see about that. For now you’re both under arrest.”
Another soldier appeared, a loaded crossbow in his hands. He pointed it at Maklavir. The guards on the top of the nearby walls looked down at them tensely, their hands gripping their weapons.
“This is uncalled for!” Maklavir protested. “I demand to speak to your commanding officer.”
The soldier hefted the halberd threateningly in Maklavir’s direction. “Gladly.” His smile disappeared. “Now get off the horse.” He glanced over at Kara. “Both of you.”
By now the drawbridge was raised almost halfway. Maklavir gave Kara a helpless look.
“I don’t think we have much choice,” he whispered. “I think we’d better dismount.”
Kara’s eyes quickly shifted between the two entrances to the gatehouses, then to the rising drawbridge. She took a deep breath, then nodded.
Ever so slowly, they started to climb off their mounts.
Joseph hit the floor at the bottom of the staircase and ran. The clattering steps of the soldiers behind him echoed down the corridor. The main hall stretched before him, with the palace entrance straight ahead. He lurched to the right, and crashed through a side door. He ran down the narrow corridor, and brushed past a startled servant. Behind him he could several voices shouting and swearing.
They must not have seen where he had gone, thank Eru. It was only a matter of time before they found him, though.
He whirled around a corner, past the billiards room and towards the door at the end of the hall. It was the same one that Maklavir and Kara had used earlier to get outside.
Joseph kicked it open, and tumbled out into the long swathe of the palace garden. He dove down behind a rose bush, and looked back behind him.
Guards were running across the top of the castle wall to his right, but no one seemed to have seen him.
So much for going back for Kendril and Serentha.
Lord Bathsby strode into the room. In a flash his eyes surveyed the overturned mattress and the feathers covering the floor. One soldier lay dead against the wall near the fireplace, while several others were clustered out on the balcony.
“Report!” he thundered.
The captain spun around, and saluted sharply. “Sir! We had the Ghostwalker trapped on the balcony. He must have jumped off to the ground.”
Bathsby stepped out onto the veranda, and pushed a guard out of his way. He leaned over the rail.
Several soldiers were down there already, probing the bushes near the edge of the pond.
Bathsby stepped away from the rail. “No one saw him?”
The captain shook his head. “No, sir. He just vanished. He was out here, though, right next to the curtain—”
Bathsby whirled, and he scanned the small veranda. His eyes narrowed, then he cursed loudly. He stepped back, looked at the veranda railing, then up. A small ledge hung over the top of the porch, crowned again by a higher overhang that led to the top of the palace.
“He went up, not down,” Bathsby spat. “He’s on the roof.”
The captain’s face whitened. “Yes, sir!” he stammered. He motioned to several of his men, who quickly ran back into the bedroom.
Bathsby scanned the edge of the roof above. His eyes flared angrily. “When you find him,” he seethed, “kill him.”
The game was up.
The drawbridge was almost completely shut, and with it the only exit from the castle would be closed off entirely.
Kara removed her foot from her horse’s stirrup, and swung her leg over the back of her horse.
One thing she was sure of. She wouldn’t be captured. Not again. She had had enough of chains and prison cells for one week.
As she dropped off the horse her left hand unhooked the hunting bow from the horse’s saddle, while her right drew an arrow out of the quiver slung on her back. She dropped to the ground on the side of the horse facing away from the drawbridge, ducked down and pulled back the string on the bow.
She fired between the legs of the beast. The arrow whistled out from beneath the horse’s belly.
It happened so quickly that the guards were taken completely by surprise.
The arrow hit the man with the crossbow and knocked him back into a water barrel. It overturned with a mighty crash.
Kara dodged to one side while her fingers drew another arrow and fitted it to the string.
There was an angry shout from the sergeant holding the halberd, right before Kara placed another arrow between his eyes.
The man toppled dead to the ground.
A crossbow sang to her left. The bolt sailed passed her and missed her by mere inches.
Kara glanced up and fired another arrow in the same motion, aimed blindly in the direction of the unseen sniper.
Two men shouted in alarm and scrambled for cover.
Kara whirled and fumbled for another arrow.
Another guard ran at her, his sword raised high for a killing blow.
He was only four feet away when she managed to get the arrow on the string, and fired.
The shot pummeled the soldier back several yards. His sword fell from his lifeless hands.
Kara strung another arrow. Her heart raced as she searched the walls.
The other guards had ducked back inside the tower.
Maklavir stood next to his horse, blinking at her in astonishment. “Great Eru!” he said, his voice filled with disbelief. “How--?”
The drawbridge was almost shut.
“Maklavir!” Kara shouted, “the gatehouse!”
The diplomat recovered his senses, and drew his sword. “Right—” He dashed towards the right hand gatehouse.
Kara knelt as a soldier stepped out of the gatehouse to the left. She fired, and the man to jumped back inside with a yelp. The arrow embedded itself in the wood of the door.
Another arrow was already in her hand as she scanned the walls above her again.
She was a sitting duck out here in the open, and she couldn’t hold down half the garrison forever.
And where was Joseph?
Kendril swore as his foot slipped on the uneven surface of the roof. A shingle came loose, and clattered loudly as it slid away. He pulled himself to his feet again, half crawling and half running up the steep slope of the palace roof.
This hadn’t exactly been the best of plans, now that he thought of it. Of course, he hadn’t had a lot of time to think over his options back on the veranda, and using the railing to jump up onto the ledge leading to the roof of the palace had seemed like a decent idea at the time.
It was amazing what a little hindsight could reveal.
Kendril reached the apex of the roof, and glanced back behind him.
The roof of the palace was wide, and sloped sharply down in both directions. Even worse, many of the shingles up here were loose and broken. Whoever was supposed to be in charge of maintenance had not done a very thorough job. From where Kendril was standing he could see the whole dark stretch of the castle courtyard, with the black shape of the statue and tree-lined avenue far below him.
He was just turning his head back around when his eyes caught the burning flare of a matchlock on the castle wall to the east.
With another strangled curse he rolled off to the side.
An instant later there was a flash of gunfire and an accompanying bang.
The shot missed, but just barely. Pieces of shingles exploded in all directions. Two or three pattered off Kendril’s cloak.
<
br /> So now there were snipers. This really was getting fun.
Maklavir was barely inside the gatehouse when he saw a sword swing right at him.
He ducked and dove to the floor as the blade whistled over his head. Maklavir scrambled backwards. As he struggled to his feet, he realized to his dismay that the floor was made out of dirt.
And here he was wearing brand-new clothes. Would this horror never end?
A large winch stood in the center of the room, with the chain from the drawbridge wrapped around it. Maklavir had only a moment to notice it, however.
The guard came at him again with his sword.
The diplomat managed to parry two blows from his attacker, then backed away against the wall. He was really starting to get worried.
He couldn’t afford to ruin his cape again….
Kara made it behind the barrel just moments before a crossbow bolt cracked into the side of the wood and stuck fast.
She leaned out to fire, but the sniper had already ducked back behind the parapet on the wall above. Cursing under her breath, she pulled herself back behind cover.
She was crouched behind several crates near the entrance to the right hand gatehouse, desperately trying to watch all directions at the same time. Further off down the walls she could just glimpse more guards running towards the gate.
Eru only knew what Maklavir was up to in the gatehouse, but there were sounds of fighting coming from within. Kara could only hope the diplomat was a better swordsman than she guessed he was.
She leaned out from behind the barrel again, her loaded bow at the ready.
The drawbridge had stopped rising, but it was almost shut. The portcullis was still up, though. One small blessing.
Kara hurriedly fired off another arrow as a head peeked around the corner of the left-hand gatehouse door. She missed, but the head vanished back inside.
Her fingers trembled as she drew another arrow.
Right now the best thing she could hope for was to die a quick death. She couldn’t be taken alive again.
She was determined not to give Sir Reginald that pleasure.