It wasn't Nikkolynda who charged into the War Chamber, as Alexander expected. Sirgar brushed past Darien with his bloody sword clutched in one hand. He tackled Prince Fenric with such momentum that the pair bounced across the floor past Alexander. Darien pressed himself against the wall and gaped at the chaos as his brother vanished underneath the massive sergeant. Beyond him, a battle raged in the corridor. A two-headed wolf on the back of a man's tabard appeared, then a splash of red covered the insignia and the owner collapsed.
Stamovan closed on the Emperor with his mace raised, but Adriana hurtled through the doorway at a breakneck pace and lowered her shoulder, slamming into the dwarf's exposed side. Despite Stamovan's considerably greater mass he was knocked backward by the sheer force of her momentum. The rings of his mail shirt caught on her sleeve as he staggered backward. The sound of tearing cloth was drowned out by Stamovan's curse as he tripped over a stray chair.
Adriana was already turning to Fenric, who stood opposite Sirgar with a sword in one hand and dagger in the other. Both men already bled from their first exchange. Draston still scuffled with Alexander, but when Stamovan regained his feet Sirgar and the Huntsman would be outnumbered. Heedless of her own safety Adriana rushed the prince.
“No!” shouted Sirgar. Fenric, loathe to take his attention from the sergeant, slid backward and lashed out with his dagger. Adriana tried to twist past but a bright red line appeared across her shoulder and a red stain blossomed on the remnants of her sleeve. Sirgar bounded forward, screaming with rage and batting Fenric's sword aside with his own. The sergeant's hilt crunched into Fenric's chin and the prince collapsed to the floor. Sirgar ignored him, turning to Adriana, whose face paled as she clapped a hand over the open wound.
Draston ran forward, sword raised to plunge through Sirgar's exposed back. Alexander threw himself bodily into the general with his arms sweeping up at the man's wrist, hoping Draston's reflexes weren't fast enough to switch targets. Luck seemed to be on Alexander's side; his fingers found a grip around Draston's forearm and his shoulder landed square in the other man's gut. He heard Draston's pained exhalation and felt the hot breath on the back of his neck as he drove into the general. They tumbled over the corner of the table and landed on the floor amidst a rain of infantry and Air Corps markers. From the corner of his eye Alexander saw Theodoric backed against the wall, holding Stamovan at bay with his sword. Though the dwarf approached cautiously, Alexander was certain he was more than a match for the aged Emperor.
“Sirgar!” Alexander shouted. “The Emperor!"
Adriana stumbled away and turned to the dwarf. Blood poured from a wide gash along Sirgar's forehead but the sergeant paid it no attention, leaping for Stamovan just as the dwarf snapped his mace around and smashed the sword from Theodoric's grip. The Emperor cried out and clutched one arm to his chest, cradling the wrist with the opposite hand. Darien danced out of the way as his father's sword bounced to the floor at his feet. He picked it up and crouched against the wall, trapped between the fight raging in the hallway and the one in the War Chamber.
Alexander grappled with Draston on the opposite side of the table, fouling the general's attempts to pull away. Unarmed, he knew that only sheer luck could save him from the trained soldier's broadsword. They swung at one another with elbows, fists and feet, grunting and swearing whenever a blow landed. Alexander tagged Draston in the jaw with his forearm and the general slowed for an instant, stunned; but when Alexander thrust out with his knee Draston caught it on his own. Both men bellowed curses at the sharp pain, and Draston dropped his sword. He shoved Alexander with both hands, slamming him against the thick table leg. He took the blow in the kidneys and his mouth filled with a nauseating, sour taste. Draston reached for his sword again and Alexander lashed out as hard as he could with his foot, catching another glimpse of Stamovan and Sirgar as he did.
Unlike Draston and Alexander, the two sergeants fought with the predatory grace of trained killers. They circled one another just outside the range of Sirgar's superior reach, nearly stepping on Fenric's legs as they searched for holes in one another's defense. Stamovan darted forward suddenly, smashing his left arm against Sirgar's sword hand as he whipped the mace around in a vertical arc aimed for the taller man's head. Rather than meet the dwarf muscle on muscle Sirgar rolled away from the attack, allowing the mace to just skim by his face and continue on to shatter the mapping table. Stamovan's momentum carried him past Sirgar but he spun instantly and caught Sirgar's backhand swing squarely on his mace. When the dwarf cocked his arm for another blow he dashed the nearest corner of the table into even smaller pieces, forcing Alexander to roll way from the falling debris.
Draston regained one knee and raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his eyes. He almost missed the table leg Alexander swung at him, but the general managed to raise his sword just in time to prevent the impromptu weapon from cracking the side of his skull. The impact swept him into the wall, but Draston stayed upright and rose to both feet. Alexander, flat on his back on the floor, threw the remaining stump of table leg, then propelled himself away with both feet and searched through the wreckage of the table desperately for another weapon. His hands closed only on useless shards of wood and loose troop counters.
Draston stepped forward and snarled at his prone opponent. With both hands he raised his sword above his head and brought it down in a blow that would surely cleave Alexander in half just as the Huntsman's fingers found the heavy leather cover of the Sandlander grimoire. He snatched up the book and held it before his chest with both hands, just in time to meet the descending blade.
Draston's sword bit into the front cover of the grimoire and stopped. Alexander's elbows bent under the force of the blow but he retained his grip and saw Draston's eyes bulge in surprise. An ear-splitting shriek filled the War Chamber, accompanied by tiny explosions as the rock walls split in numerous places. The grimoire's cover burst into green flame, which raced up Draston's blade and completely engulfed his arms. As the general's scream joined the grimoire's Alexander saw the man's arms and sword dissolve into blazing grains of sand. The tiny fires went out as what was left of Draston's arms sprinkled harmlessly over Alexander's legs. The threat now gone, the awful shriek died away as the grimoire's fire extinguished itself. The general stared at Alexander for a moment with his mouth opening and closing soundlessly; then he crumbled to the floor. Alexander had to tear his gaze away from the horrible sight of the charred, armless corpse.
After setting the grimoire carefully to the side, he forced himself to his feet. His head throbbed and his back hurt from the bruise growing there, but he stumbled through the remnants of the table and looked for a way to aid Sirgar, who battled the dwarf a few feet from the limp form of Prince Fenric.
Stamovan and Sirgar swung their heavy weapons as though they weighed no more than wooden practice swords. Though Sirgar loomed over the dwarf, Stamovan held his own through a combination of skill and brute strength. The pair attacked and parried one another at the end of the room opposite the entrance as Sirgar fought to keep himself between Stamovan and the Emperor. Alexander picked up the largest piece of table leg he could find but stood well away from the titanic battle, reluctant to distract Sirgar. Whenever the sergeant raised his sword the tip nearly gouged the ceiling. Stamovan, on the other hand, almost bounced the head of his mace from the floor as he swung it around to gain momentum. The two weapons met halfway between man and dwarf and ricocheted with a resounding ring. Instead of drawing his arm back Sirgar thrust his hilt forward and scored a glancing blow off the side of Stamovan's head. The dwarf grunted but continued past the attack, releasing his mace with one hand to pull a dagger from his belt. He slashed a shallow cut in Sirgar's thigh and danced back, chased away by the sergeant's bellow and a vicious slash that tore through the links of chain across Stamovan's chest.
Alexander hoisted his improvised club and stepped forward.
“Back!” ordered Sirgar. Alexander reversed direction. The war cries and clam
or of steel on steel faded in the hallway, and he turned to find two of Sirgar's men stepping through the doorway with naked blades still dripping blood. One held his hand tightly over his tabard; as Alexander watched, the man's face turned pale and he collapsed.
Kandys had somehow slipped through the battle outside and was crouched next to her sister, wrapping a torn cloth tight around Adriana's arm. A dagger lay on the floor next to her feet, and Alexander saw her eyes burn as she watched the battle between Stamovan and Sirgar.
A dwarven shout echoed through the War Chamber as Stamovan charged, astounding Alexander once again with his quickness. He whirled the mace above his head with one hand and cocked the dagger back in the other. Sirgar couldn't defend against both weapons with just his sword, but the sergeant met the attack with his own remarkable display of agility. He ducked down and sideways, throwing his entire body under the deadly mace while his leg shot toward Stamovan's chest. The dwarf's feet actually left the ground as he flew backward. His head bounced off the thick tapestries and Sirgar, upright once again, reared back for the final blow.
Stamovan shouted again and snapped his dagger straight for Sirgar's face. The sergeant's feet were already planted and all he could do was twist away, throwing one arm up to protect his head. The blade sank halfway into Sirgar's exposed forearm and the dwarf shot forward, mace whistling in a wide arc.
Praying that the soldier behind him wouldn't mistake the target of his attack, Alexander hurled his table leg at Stamovan's feet. The dwarf caught the motion from the corner of his eye and tried to leap but the heavy wood tagged him squarely in the ankle. Stamovan stumbled forward. His mace blasted a sliver of stone from the floor as he lost control, then Sirgar's hand whipped out to catch the dwarf's shoulder. Sirgar spun in a circle to send Stamovan staggering back in the direction whence he'd started and when Stamovan hit the wall, Sirgar's sword plunged deep into his side. The dagger still protruded from Sirgar's arm as the dwarf fell to his knees, gasping in pain. The mace clattered to the floor and when Sirgar withdrew his blade, the dwarf followed.
“Death is too good for a traitor,” said Sirgar. He yanked the dagger from his arm and grimaced, then tossed the blade onto Stamovan's back. Dropping to one knee, he leaned on his sword and breathed heavily.
Theodoric stepped forward from the wall, picking his way carefully among the ruined pieces of the table. Darien followed with wide eyes, his father's sword dangling in visibly shaking hands.
“Sirgar—” began Theodoric. He was interrupted by a strangled cry as Fenric leaped at him. Alexander cursed himself for assuming the prince was unconscious and jumped forward, already certain he was too late to save the Emperor. Sirgar swung round with a horrified look in his eyes that confirmed Alexander's assessment. Fenric's blade flashed through the air and the prince screamed a triumphant cry, but his victorious shout died in his throat as his sword stopped dead scant inches from Theodoric's head. Darien blocked the attack with a clumsy two-handed grip on his father's sword, and as Fenric stared at him in shock, the younger prince lunged forward and buried his weapon in Fenric's stomach.
Both heirs to the Imperial throne of Hurst fell to their knees, connected to one another by a slender length of steel, eyes locked in a mirrored expression of shock. Fenric's blade slipped from nerveless fingers and rattled against the stone floor. When the clang of steel on stone died away the War Chamber fell completely silent. Alexander and the Emperor stood rooted in place. Sirgar crouched, frozen, as if he were ready to spring forward at any moment. Alexander heard Adriana gasp from somewhere near the entrance.
“Mal—” began Fenric, and Darien pulled the sword from his brother's stomach. Fenric's voice dissolved into a choking cough that left speckles of bright red on his chin and collar. He looked down once at the angry crimson river spilling from his stomach and collapsed.
“Oh, Fenric,” said Darien. Then the remaining Prince of Hurst dropped his father's sword and fainted dead away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Two days after the attempted assassination of Emperor Theodoric the Dwarf's Highway was thick with soldiers returning home. Air Corps flyers filled the sky, some circling over the city while others soared toward Addamantia under the bright morning sun. Though archers still walked the outer wall, their numbers were far decreased from the last time Alexander had stood outside the city gates. He patted his horse on the side of her neck and his eye caught the sunlight shining off the lion's-head hilt of a broadsword strapped across the mare's saddlebags. Both weapon and horse were gifts from Theodoric, though Alexander hadn't seen the Emperor since the battle in the War Chamber. His own sword, Alexander thought dryly, was probably hanging from Hafflston's belt.
“You're sure you won't wait for the trade delegation?” asked Adriana. “It'd be safer than making the trip alone.” She and Pellorin stood a few feet away, watching the procession of cavalry and infantry marching toward the city. Adriana's shirt bulged around the left shoulder, where Alexander knew a thick bandage was still wrapped. The wizard's eyes were swollen from lack of sleep, but he smiled at some private thought as he gazed southward.
“I'll pass,” said Alexander. “The road should be safe enough for a few days, what with half of Hurst's army marching north and half of Addamantia's going south."
“And you'll send word when you find Hafflston?"
“Every pigeon I can find,” Alexander said. “The Baron'll already have Huntsmen looking for him before I get there."
“Likewise the Stronghold,” said Pellorin. “I'm anxious to discover how much havoc Burrel Tarlsman has caused among his people."
“Still no word of Nikkolynda?” asked Alexander.
Pellorin shook his head. “None at all. For a brief moment two nights ago Amaut and the scryers felt his presence, but it vanished again in an instant. I suspect that was when you broke the chain."
“I hope you find him."
“I hope so as well, particularly before the warlock re-emerges. I expect he'll stay hidden for a time, now that his conspirators are all dead or scattered, but I can't imagine we're rid of him."
“At least he doesn't have the grimoire any more,” said Adriana.
“Yes,” Pellorin answered. “A stupid move on Fenric's part, but I suppose he really wanted to convince his father of Alexander's guilt. From what you've told me, I believe he actually wanted His Righteousness to join the war effort. Assassination was a last resort."
“Mighty big of him,” said Alexander. “Only killing his father if he can't get his way by some other means."
The mare snorted and swung her head toward the parade of cavalry entering the gate. The soldiers’ armor gleamed as it had when Alexander and Kandys watched them departing the city, but their faces and idle chatter revealed confusion and their weapons were sheathed or strapped to pack horses. Banners fluttered from their standards but none of them displayed the insignia of Fenric or Draston; apparently, the news carried by the Air Corps had been detailed.
“It's almost impossible to believe, that we could have stood so close to war,” said Pellorin.
Turning to Adriana, Alexander asked, “What'll you do now? You'd make a good Huntsman, if you decide you'd like to live closer to the sea."
Pellorin laughed. “Oh, she'll be visiting Addamantia soon, though I doubt she'll be in need of employment."
Adriana grinned, but Alexander simply looked at both of them with a confused expression. “I must've missed something,” he said.
“No one's told you?” said Pellorin. “Our junior counselor is now a full-fledged counselor, or will be when His Righteousness ends the mourning period and official business resumes. She's been asked to fill Virmual Postwick's position."
“I'm to oversee trade practices with Addamantia and Forthaven, as well as the Stronghold,” said Adriana. “When we've got new treaties in place I intend to build open trade routes with the Sandlanders, too, not just the independent caravans we sent out now. First, though, I'm coming to Addamantia."
“That's wonderful,” said Alexander. “I didn't know—I've been relaxing and just enjoying the city for the past couple days.” He purposely neglected to mention that Kandys had been his guide for the time, but Adriana guessed immediately.
“Do you know where she is?” she asked. “I wanted to talk with her after everything settled down, but she was gone so fast."
“I think she wants to be away from Hurst for a while,” said Alexander. “Too many people here know her now. She mentioned visiting Forthaven for at least a few months."
“Oh,” said Adriana. Her eyes fell and she shrugged slightly. “I was hoping we'd be able to talk, I suppose."
“She promised me she'll contact you as soon as she can,” said Alexander.
“Really?” Adriana's face brightened. “Her idea, or yours?"
“Mine,” said Alexander, “but I didn't have to hit her over the head to get her agreement. She worries about your position with the Emperor, though."
“It doesn't matter,” said Adriana. “Tell her that, if you hear from her before I do."
“I will,” said Alexander. “Though I expect to hear from you in two weeks if you're going to be in Addamantia."
Adriana smiled. “You will. I'll need someone to show me all your city's secrets so I can get the best of the negotiating."
“Good enough,” said Alexander. He shook hands with Pellorin then embraced Adriana for a moment. The slightest hint of a fading bruise was visible above her collar. He released her and swung onto the mare's back, then nudged the horse forward. The shadow of a flyer swept by, and Alexander heard the snap of wings above. Glancing back over his shoulder the Huntsman waved once before setting off for home.
EPILOGUE
The torchlight cast dancing shadows on the walls of Nikkolynda's workroom and the frog squatted on his little shelf, watching the tall young man who bent over the table. Three tall candles were neatly placed around a copper bowl, which was filled to the brim with water. To one side of the arrangement lay a heavy book, open to a page covered with Halonic runes. A sheet of parchment and a quill covered the opposing page. The frog's bulging eyes flickered about the room for a moment, as if surveying the placement of containers and magic paraphernalia on the shelves. It chirruped and the young man turned.
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