by CS Sealey
“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Your Majesty.”
“Auran…” Samian mused, sizing him up. “Pathetic. Is this supposed to be a rescue?”
“Yes, but I’ll take your head – or the order of surrender, if I feel merciful,” Tiderius said, inching his blade closer.
“I can see this won’t be a pleasant first meeting after all.” The king eyed Tiderius’s sword. “I was so hoping to get to know you better. Angora has often spoken of you.”
“You will give me what I want,” Tiderius said, feeling the power of his sword pulsing through him, ready to be released. “Angora goes free.”
“You point that sword so readily but are you truly prepared to use it?” Samian asked. “Sorcha forbade you to kill me once, or have you forgotten the fate of Briel Challan? Are you ready to sacrifice your new status and disappoint your mistress?” He laughed. “Bah. You will not kill me, boy. You haven’t the strength or the courage.”
“Indeed?” Tiderius asked and released the power of the sword. Anathris sprang into life and the illusory blue fire rippled down the blade. “Say that again.”
But the king merely laughed, completely unfazed. “You think a magic blade makes you more powerful than I?”
“Anathris is stronger than any blade you may wield. She can cut your iron in two and melt your pretty steel.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Auran,” Samian said, smiling, “but you’re gravely mistaken.”
Without warning, the king of the Ayons leaped out of range and drew his own sword. The two blades met but where Samian’s blade should have glowed red hot upon connecting with Anathris, there was a ripple of white fire and a loud crack. Tiderius was so surprised that he drew back, breaking the contact between the two blades, and stared.
“You thought to defeat me?” King Samian asked, laughing. “Meet Valermis, your brother sword, and your double, Auran!’
“But Aiyla – ”
“Your seer failed to see past my crown to the power behind it! Forever seeing five servants and advisers surrounding their king, yes, yet she never thought to look closely enough, never asked the right questions. Perhaps she never thought the Spirits would gift a king such powers. But no matter. I’ve waited a very long time for this, Auran. I hope you’re ready for a real fight.”
Tiderius glowered and adopted an attacking stance. Samian did the same. The swords sang as the two swordsmen faced each other, both daring the other to make the first move, the sound reverberating around the corridor walls.
“Sam?” Angora asked, her voice small and quivering. “You – you are the…”
“Stay back,” Tiderius said to her, risking a glance behind him. “I’ll take you home after I’ve dealt with him.”
“Home?” Samian exclaimed and spat. “Her home is with me!”
“Not any more!”
Tiderius made the first swing at Samian’s head but the king quickly blocked the attack and the two blades collided with a shower of sparks. Samian broke loose from the block and parried swiftly, only just managing to dodge the stabbing blade of the Sword of Te’Roek. The king parried instantly, knocking Tiderius’s shield stance aside. Tiderius staggered, almost losing his footing, but he slid one leg backward and steadied himself. He angrily lunged and scraped his sword along Samian’s coat. The intricately decorated material ripped but no blood was drawn.
“You’re not as experienced as I thought you would be with all your boasting!” Samian taunted, twirling his blade in his hands before stabbing down a blow that Tiderius blocked above his head. “You hide behind your gift like a child behind its mother’s skirts! If you take that away, what’s left of you? A boy who’s too big for his boots!”
“Then why hold back?” Tiderius shouted angrily. “Or are you afraid? Your servants aren’t here to protect you this time! Let’s see how big you are without Varren holding your hand!”
“Both of you, stop it!” Angora cried, but they paid her no attention.
Tiderius charged but the king met the stroke, engaging them in a blade lock. Muscles tensed and bones quivered as they struggled for dominance. Tiderius was sweating now and beads of it ran down his face. He glared at his adversary with pure hatred in his eyes. He could free Angora from this political union, maybe even force the king to surrender his crown, and then there would be no need for oaths or a Circle of Protection.
Their fight led them back along the corridor and out into the main passageway again. Tiderius risked a glance behind him to locate Angora but, taking advantage of this momentary distraction, Samian swiftly swung and caught Tiderius’s face with the tip of Valermis. Blood sprayed across his cheek. Biting back the stinging pain, Tiderius stabbed recklessly, only meeting the empty air as Samian nimbly twisted away. Too late Tiderius realized that his left leg was now unguarded and the king swung fast and accurately. He felt the force of the strike and saw the blood on his enemy’s sword before he felt the pain. Seconds later, Tiderius felt the force of another strike on his arm, tearing through his surcoat to his flesh. He uttered a cry of agony and fury, but swung around and dealt a heavy blow on Samian’s shoulder.
Suddenly, he felt Angora’s hand on his arm and heard her cries loud in his ear but he shook his head. As Emil had said, the time for talking was over. Finally face to face with his double, nothing could stop him from fighting.
Angora hurried past him and looked anxiously at her husband but the king pulled her roughly behind him. Putting pressure on the wound on his arm, Tiderius leaned against the corridor wall for a moment but kept his eyes fixed on the wounded king.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Auran!” Samian bellowed.
*
The two fought on and on, swiping at each other and ducking blows. Angora did not know how long the fight lasted, but it felt like hours. Every time she tried to intervene, either Samian or Tiderius would push her aside and continue on. Finally, however, it appeared that Tiderius’s strength was beginning to wane and the pain from his wounds impaired his deft movements. He staggered, almost falling to the ground. Samian’s blade rose again; Angora saw it coming down at an angle that would surely split Tiderius’s head. She shrieked at Samian to stop, but with a life-saving reflex, Tiderius ducked, swung out with his injured leg and caught the king behind his knee, bringing him down. Samian crumbled and his sword spun across the floor.
But the king did not give up. He drew a dagger from his boot and threw it at Tiderius’s shoulder from where he was sprawled on the floor. The Ronnesian roared in pain and anger, wrenched the small blade from his flesh and flung it away. Samian staggered to his feet but Tiderius leaped on top of him, sending them both crashing to the floor. There, they scuffled for a few brief moments before Tiderius sat astride Samian’s middle with Anathris an inch from the king’s throat.
“Surrender!” Tiderius cried, panting heavily, blood trickling down his cheek. “Should you refuse to surrender your armies, I will strike you down!”
“Stop! Tiderius, no!” Angora cried.
“It was a fair fight.”
“In the name of the Spirits, Tiderius, he is a king!”
She stormed over to him, gripping her staff angrily. She raised her hand to hit him across the face but stopped, hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. Tiderius also turned, giving Angora the chance to push him aside and help Samian to his feet. Emil, Markus and Kayte emerged from the gloom of the corridor. The three were running, glancing repeatedly over their shoulders and firing spells into the thick, gray smoke of countless spells and enchantments. A sphere of flickering blue flame flew down the corridor and Angora grabbed Samian’s shoulders, pulling them down into a crouch. Tiderius leaped back, shouting to his companions. Kayte heard him first and turned, her face wracked with exertion.
“Tiderius! Angora! Oh, thank the Spirits you’re both safe. But you’re injured!” She hurried to Tiderius’s side and looked him over. “Here, take my arm. I’ll take you home.”
Angora rose from her crouch a
nd stood protectively in front of her injured husband. She saw Tiderius sway but Kayte steadied him.
“He’s losing a lot of blood,” the sorceress said, looking over her shoulder. “Angora, come and help me.”
“No,” Angora said.
Kayte straightened up, grasping Tiderius tightly around his waist. “Didn’t you hear me? I said he needs your help!”
“No, he does not. You have a dozen healers in the castle already.”
“Angora, we came for you and we’re not leaving without you.”
“Yes, you are,” Angora said, backing down the corridor to the hidden passage, keeping Samian behind her. “I am no Ronnesian, I never was, you should know that by now. My place is here, with my husband.”
Tiderius moaned and his legs gave way. Kayte cried out as she almost dropped him. Somehow, she managed to steady him once more before glaring at Angora. “Look at him! He needs you!”
“You put yourselves in danger! If he dies, it is your fault!”
Though she felt a pang of guilt, she knew she could not give in to them now. They had to learn that she had chosen her path and if that meant Tiderius had to die, then that was the price for her freedom.
She ushered Samian further down the corridor, holding her staff protectively in front of them.
“My life is mine to live, not yours to command!” she said sternly. “I chose my allegiance. I chose him!”
“Angora, this is not a game!” Kayte shouted.
“No, it is not! I am the queen of the Ayon Empire! By what right do you command me? Tiderius has attempted to murder my husband and abduct me, as have you, Emil and Markus! Twice! Can you not see how your blind obsession has driven you to madness? I am not your property, Kayte! The Spirits may have given me a gift, but it is my decision how best I use it, not yours!”
“But you don’t realize what this will do to the balance!” Kayte cried. “The Spirits are wiser beings than we can ever hope to be, they would not have created the equilibrium had they meant for it to be broken!”
“It is not the balance itself that is important, it is our actions!” Angora said. “But I can see you will never understand my need to be free. What I did and said at my wedding, I do not regret. We are enemies now! Do not force me to attack you, Kayte!”
Samian staggered forward and put his hand on her shoulder. “They only want you,” he whispered. “Go, now. At the end of the corridor is a door that leads to a passage under the city. It comes up in the town hall and has a lock you can trigger. Please, take it, my love.”
“No, I will not leave you,” she said, turning to him. “Either you come with me now or we stand together and face them. Oh, where is Varren?”
As though summoned, there was a bang and both Emil and Markus were thrown from their feet. A dark shape strode through the smoke, a sword clutched tightly in one hand and the other outstretched in front of him, the fingers still flickering with raw blue energy. Lord General Varren arrived in all his fury.
“Touch either of them and you’ll wish you had never been born!”
“Angora, now!” Samian said, grasping her wrist and pulling her behind him. “Take the path now! Go!”
“You are more important to this empire than I. Come with me!” She pulled his arm, glancing back at Varren with wide, frightened eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, Samian relented. They both began to run.
Kayte rose shakily to her feet and stared after them. “Angora!”
The sorceress lifted her arms, summoning a great force that flew down the corridor and tripped them up. They hit the ground hard and Angora’s staff spun away across the stones. She scrambled to her hands and knees and grabbed for it.
No more hesitation, she thought angrily, turning. If I do not act now, I may never have another chance.
She could not determine which of the three shadowy figures further down the corridor Varren might be, as the smoke from constant casting was thickening fast. Determined not to accidentally hit him, she directed her rage toward Kayte alone. She felt her weapon pulse in her hands. A great golden light emanated from the head and shot through the air, taking shape as it flew. An eagle, the size of its natural cousins.
Kayte was quick to react and deflected the attack, sending the summoned beast careening away. “What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.
Angora responded by bidding her summoned creature to attack again and, with a screech, it wheeled around, beating its glistening wings in the gloom of the dungeons. The bird tucked its wings back and dived at Kayte’s head but the sorceress ducked swiftly. A second later, a bolt of pure blue energy shot out of her outstretched palm, caught the eagle as it turned to strike once more and scattered the summoning with a piercing cry.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Angora,” Kayte shouted, “but I will not allow you to continue this folly!”
Angora felt a jolt in her chest and a stab of pain in her temple as her eagle disintegrated. She mustered her resolve and began to summon another, but before she could release it from the staff, Emil came hurrying down the corridor, Markus at his heels.
“We haven’t much time,” the shaman said, panting. “My barrier won’t last long. Just take them and go!”
Markus hurried to Tiderius’s side, then slid an arm around his middle and disappeared in an explosion of light. Emil turned to Angora and began to advance but stumbled. He paused and looked down to see Samian’s sword. The shaman reached down to pick it up, perhaps believing it to be Anathris, but a shock of magic leaped from the blade and hissed angrily, forcing him to draw back.
“Angora, come now!” Kayte cried.
“No!”
“Emil, you take her.”
Emil spread his fingers and a thin coil of white light sprang from his palm. It snaked through the air toward Angora and she backed away, holding her staff protectively in front of her. As the spell drew closer, she swiped at it but could not keep it back. As though sensing she was close, the spell suddenly quickened its pace and entangled itself tightly around her wrists.
“No!” Samian cried, darting forward.
But just as the king’s fingers brushed at Angora’s arm, Kayte threw out her hand and another bolt of energy hurtled through the air and hit him in the stomach. He landed roughly further down the corridor. He made to rise but clutched his side in pain.
“Archis! Archis, help her!” he shouted. “Don’t let them take her!”
Emil pulled at the white light about Angora’s wrists, drawing her in. She screamed in protest and tried to pull away but the shaman was deaf to her pleas. She desperately fought to angle her staff toward them but Kayte wrenched it from her grasp and took hold of her arm in a grip of iron.
Continuing to struggle, Angora craned her neck and saw Samian staggering to his feet, his face racked with pain and drained of color. As his gaze focused on her, he seemed suddenly to forget his injuries. His expression morphed into one full of wrath. He surged forward and leaped upon Emil, his fists swinging wildly. At the same moment, there was a deafening bang as Varren blasted away the last of Emil’s enchantments in the corridor behind them. Kayte glanced at the source of the sound and quickly summoned her magic, pushing Samian away from Emil with a blast of energy.
“Emil, go! Go!”
Still in the shaman’s control, Angora raised her bound hands and hit him as hard as she could in the face but it was as though he did not feel the blow. Around her, an unnatural wind sprang up. Her hair flew into her eyes but she caught sight of Samian sprawled on the ground once more, blood trickling from a fresh gash across his forehead.
“Sam!” she screamed, reaching out to him desperately, tears flowing down her cheeks. “No!”
He looked up, reaching for her hands. At the corner of her sight, she saw Varren’s figure approaching at a run, his eyes flashing white with fury. But then the world disappeared and she was aware only of a blinding nothingness as her feet left the ground.
CHAPTER 44
Markus hurried across
the forecourt with Tiderius supported around the waist. He went as quick as he dared, for Tiderius could take little of his own weight. As they neared the castle gates, two guards hurried over, shouting for assistance.
“Fetch the healers,” the wizard said to one of the guards, “and inform the queen of our return.”
The man nodded and hurried away, leaving his partner to assist Markus Taal. Together, they struggled with Tiderius through the entrance hall and up the nearest staircase.
Two floors up, they reached the healing rooms and heaved Tiderius’s form onto one of the operating tables. No sooner had they achieved this, two healers entered, one carrying a basket of fresh herbs from the kitchen gardens, and began to strip their patient. Pulling out small knives, they hacked at his surcoat and flung the pieces aside. They drew his belt apart and slit his left trouser leg from thigh to ankle to attend to his wounds. But still Tiderius clung to his sword with one hand, his knuckles white. It was as though that was his only thought.
As the healers hurried around the room, fetching bowls and instruments, there came a cry from outside and Markus turned to see a flustered Emil enter, leading Angora, a glowing rope around both her wrists.
“Where are you taking him?” she was screaming. “What are you going to do to him?”
“The king is our prisoner now, thanks to you,” Emil replied angrily, “we’ll treat him accordingly. Now, since you’re the cause of all this, help Tiderius!”
“I am the cause?” Angora exclaimed. “You deceitful beasts! You were the ones who laid siege to my home!”
“Tiderius is wounded, Angora!” Markus cried.
“He had every chance to save himself, as did you all! You have two herbalists already. Use them instead!”
Angora uttered a cry of pain and crumbled to her knees, a red coil of light flickering around the rope that bound her. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she turned and looked up at Emil with pure hatred in her eyes. Markus glanced at Emil, troubled that the shaman had been forced to pacify her in such a way.