by S E Turner
'Cornelius no!' shouted out Gya, her voice strained. 'Leave him.'
Cornelius turned to her, his eyes were narrow and a wicked smile exposed hungry incisors.
'Eliminating three savages in one day! I think the General is guiding me.'
'You are possessed by something Cornelius, be it power, envy, or cowardice, I know not what, but you are a changed man.'
A brutal fist smashed down on her face. 'Coward! are you calling me a coward? How dare you!'
He wrapped his hands round her throat again.
But Macus opened one eye, the other was bruised and swollen. His lip was split, his face was cut. He managed to withdraw something from his boot and slid it towards the helpless girl along the gravel. She inched at it with outstretched fingers – just a bit more, only a little further. She grabbed the handle and spun it in her hand. With one last ounce of effort she plunged it into the Emperor's side.
'Accuracy is more vital than power.'
His weight collapsed on top of her. She pushed him off and rolled away so she was laying on her back again.
He shook his head and snapped out of his trance. A voice was shouting at him in the background to help. But all he could think of was the sensation of falling. Then feeling cold. And then nothing. Until he awoke to the sound of the guards.
Slowly, a tiny reservoir of power flowed back into his soul, his focus narrowed back to sanity. He was plunged back into the moment. He was upright. Someone was tearing at him. He felt nothing. His dagger finished that perpetrator off. Another gripped his arm, bending it backwards so much that he could feel his fibres stretching—sinew bone and tendons were straining to breaking point. Still he felt nothing. Instead his blade found an exposed bit of skin on his attacker, and he broke free .
Understanding seared through him. He knew who he was. A past life flashed before him. He remembered the witches prophecy.
He screamed loudly in frustration, in anger at himself—but his mouth did not open and his throat made no sound. He was reeling, trying to find a way out of this illusion with only a cruel exhilaration telling him what to do.
He put his arms out for support, and felt the wall pulse with age. He remembered Namir and what he had done to him. He shook his head in disbelief. His mind craved redemption.
'Is this why I have been put here, is this what the witch had intended for me all along?' He opened his eyes when he heard the clang of swords and another assailant approaching. 'I have to get her out of here, otherwise she will die.'
Saskia was screaming at him now. She was fighting against a dozen men on her own.
He heard her voice calling out to him, as if he were in another dimension. He refocused and stormed through the middle of the hall. He ducked as one of the guards swung at him, then launched with the blade to meet the blow and thrust his dagger upwards—the guard gurgled his last breath and slumped to the ground. Another soldier came at him, wielding a three foot sword, the impact throbbed through his arm when he blocked it and loosened his grip. He clenched his teeth and tightened the hold as the man came at him again. The assailant slipped in a pool of blood and crashing against a marble plinth, knocked himself out as he fell. Cornelius heard a roar of voices coming up behind him, so he span in the air and knocked out the three guards with his heels. His fist got one more, and his sword went straight through half a dozen in quick succession. Saskia left nothing to chance and finished off the ones that Cornelius had merely stunned.
It was quiet now. No one was left standing. All the servants and musicians had fled, the room was a bloodbath. Saskia was at one end of the room panting. Cornelius was at the other. They were both covered in blood. But she still had one more job to do.
Turning on her heels and storming past the strewn bodies, she strode with venom in her step until she was next to Atilus. She flicked his face upwards with the tip of her bloodied sword.
'You stupid boy!' She kicked him in the ribs and spat on him. 'You got Coben killed. You put a death sentence on my friend; my saviour, the one who taught me how to fight, the one who saved me from going insane, the one who saved Tiller from the clutches of a madman. You are nothing but a pathetic coward and I will tell everyone what you did. Everyone will know.' She looked over at Coben. 'I will make sure that man has a plaque of honour, a shield, a place of remembrance, so those at Aiden Hall can pay their respects. But you—you will have nothing. You will be forgotten—and rot in hell—just like Hezekiah Hall.' She kicked him again. 'You gave away his name for your liberty—and look where it got you—nowhere, absolutely nowhere.' She kicked him one last time and went over to Coben. She rolled the king's dead body off her ally and kneeling next to him, tried to find a pulse. There was nothing. No beat, no breathing, nothing. She fell onto him and sobbed.
Then they heard it. With so much clanging of metal on metal and sounds of death, this sound had been silent to them. Now, it was all they could hear, and it came from the only other body that was still alive in the room.
The noise coming from the bird was grating against his ears. It was piercing and unbearable. He gritted his teeth and yelled out at it. 'Stop, damn you!' He levelled the blade, working out the distance and force in his head. Without a moments hesitation, he moved like lightning and swung his sword at the screeching bird. It was flapping its wings in terror unable to see anything. All it could feel was the breeze executed from the force of the weapon as it touched its body.
The hair on her arms stood up in horror. She thought he was going to take its head off there and then. But instead, he cut it free from its shackles and with the tip of the sword, slowly removed the hood. The creature looked around. Dazed. Blinking. Its head disappeared into its neck. It was still, and so very quiet now. Cornelius flung open the window, and the bird moved.
'You have your freedom now—go spread your wings and fly with the other raptors.'
The bird perched on the window ledge, surveying its domain. It looked unsure, as if it had forgotten how to fly. Perhaps it couldn't hunt anymore, perhaps it felt unsafe.
Then another falcon came into view, it was circling incredibly close, flapping excited wings and calling out a joyous cry. The captive bird recognised its mate, its eyes dilated wide, its beak opened and closed a few times and then it called back. The circling falcon came closer and encouraged the prisoner out. Suddenly, with instincts returned, it took a giant leap of faith and flew out of the window. Cornelius watched it join the other raptor, circling and swooping and turning on seraph wings. He smiled at their reunion and watched until he could see them no more.
Saskia took one last look at her dearest friend. 'I love you Coben. Thank you for everything. I hope you find peace now.'
As Saskia knelt by her friend, Cornelius took a candle from a niche, found the trail of gunpowder that Coben had concealed in the crevasse of wall and lit the start of it. Straight away the line burst into life, a vicious viper consuming every particle of powder, its hunger for fire, forcing it to move rapidly along the line. Cornelius stared at the sparks, mesmerised at its power, incredulous of its strength, in awe of how quickly it moved. That made him realise the urgency.
'We have to go now Saskia, this place is going to blow at any moment.'
'What?'
'It's going to go up. In minutes!'
'But...my father?'
'He's safe.'
'My people...I can't leave my people.'
'They are safe as well. Coben did it all.'
She looked back. 'He did all that—for us?'
'Seems like it—you must have meant great deal to him Saskia.'
'I reminded him of his daughter...' she wiped away the warm tear and took one last look at her friend. Then suddenly and without warning, she sucked a sword from its victim, span around, and launched it into the air so that impaled itself deep within Atilus' heart.
'That was a waste of a sword,' said Cornelius, the frown creasing his forehead.
'That was a waste of a life,' her reply was bitter.
&nb
sp; They felt the tremor. From the pits of the mountain it came. They looked at each other fearfully.
Cornelius grabbed the book, stuffed it in his jerkin and they both started to run. They headed for the doorway and turned right. Ahead of them was the grand
stairwell. They flew down that. They didn't look behind them. Cornelius had set his navigation skills to instinct and bounded down the stairs. Saskia hit the floor first as she jumped over the rail before him—she swung open the doorway and threw herself the other side. Cornelius tore through as he followed her. They looked left and then right. One more passageway to go through. It was cold and musty. The floor cried tears into the dampness. Candles flickered furiously. There was no one there to stop them now. The door was right in front of them, unguarded. They charged up to it, pushed it open and threw themselves out into the light.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Saskia tore round to collect her bindle.
'What are you doing?' He stopped in his tracks. He was making for the iron gates.
'I have to get my pack. It was a gift. There is a wall outside my tower. I've looked at it so many times. It leads to the river.'
'Okay, I'll follow you—but hurry—we don't have much time.'
'The mines are on the west side though—we will be safe on this east side.'
The look on his face didn't agree.
They ran round to the base of the tower, where she searched far beneath the window of her old room.
She found her cargo, threw it over her back, and ran low to the base of the wall—the vast barrier between freedom and Hezekiah Hall. She stood there for a moment and looked back at her window; the towering grey prison that loomed from its rocky promontory. How good it felt to be on the outside at last. She saw the sun glint on it one last time, before being swallowed into the ground forever. She then turned to study the sheer indomitable wall—the only obstacle between her and freedom.
She pulled her skirt higher and tucked it inside a belt. Gauging the distance and force needed, she was able to catapult herself onto the top ledge. Cornelius followed her, but he was getting weak now.
'I can't get up there,' he said meekly. He was totally out of breath and trying his damnedest to grip on to something solid. 'It's too high for me.'
Saskia stretched out on her belly and reached down to pull him up.
He winced as he skinned his knees on the sharp stones. He dug his foot into a tiny hollow as he neared the top, but his foot slipped.
'Damn these boots.'
'Hurry up man, come on.' She took the sheath of the sword to give him an extra foot or so to grab hold of. When he was a bit higher, she quickly grabbed his wrist and held on tightly. She hauled him up the last few inches, until he managed to seize the top.
For a few moments afterwards he was too drained to do anything but sit astride the wall. But in the distance he heard the rumble, so he quickly dropped down to join her.
They crouched down low and ventured into the forest, pressed themselves against a tree and scanned the horizon. It was lit as it had been before, the glow from the beacon casting shadows across the forest. The sounds of life were clearly absent. There were no guards. Completely devoid of life. There was another tremor. The ground shook beneath them.
'Come on, we've got to keep going.'
'The mine is over a mile away though.' She jutted out her chin.
He looked at her with his head tilted. Then shook it from side to side. 'We're not safe here.'
'Do you know the way?'
'Kind of.'
They began to run—fast. Adrenaline was keeping them both going. Certainly Cornelius who barely had any strength left. Tree roots grabbed at his feet. Brambles tore at his jerkin. Recumbent boughs tried to trip him up. But he crashed through them all, reckless, breathless and kept up with Saskia, who leapt through the glade like a young doe on springs.
Faster and faster they went and the ground was trembling with every step. The river was close and with it would be shelter. They came to a precipice. She looked down into the water, and for a moment she felt as if she could fly—as if she had suddenly grown wings and a part of her wanted to spread them. Cornelius peered into the darkest shadows of the forest; the trees wore terrified faces, the branches tried to shield their eyes. It was a place infested with fear—but right now it was their only salvation.
Another tremor shook. They had to jump.
There was a splintering cracking sound. Then the first explosion came. They crouched in a naturally formed basin to escape the initial debris. White rock and basalt arched over them, raining down like gigantic hailstones of fire. The air was claustrophobic and shallow pools of debris littered the way like old abandoned tombstones. The forest was full of fallen trees now, and ten foot high metal poles protruded like hideous flags of honour.
Another tremulous wave rumbled. Saskia put her hands over her ears to drown out the sound of the next explosion. The trees shook with each devastating blow. Some toppled over easily, others stood standing like war torn old sentinels. The sky was filling with clouds of smoke.
Finally, with a noise that roared into the sky and sent out tons of dust and debris for several miles around—Hezekiah Hall collapsed—and with it, the suffering and torment, of ten thousand souls.
The dust thickened. Outside the forest the day had been brightening towards noon, but now it was so dark it could easily have been night. They followed the source of the river. Sometimes it was wide and marshy with mossy boulders and fallen boughs, but mostly it was narrow, twisting and overgrown with thorn bushes and hanging vines as thick as rope. They had tried to stay in the tangled forest—but that was even more hazardous with scattered debris and jagged rock. So they battled onwards, following the river upstream. Cornelius was tiring, he slipped on the mossy logs and stumbled on wet rocks, he pushed twigs from his eyes with the tip of his sword. Saskia tried to help him and beat the nettles and foliage away with her blade .
A falcon darted through the trees, closely followed by another, was it his falcon he thought. An owl screeched in the distance; was it her owl Saskia wondered. Through the mist was the sound of someone rasping for breath, that was Cornelius they both knew.
The rumbles continued throughout the day. Every now and again a branch shook off a nugget or a small fragment of rock. The ground was littered with the remains of Hezekiah Hall. Goodness knows what the west side looked like he thought.
The dust was still settling well into the night. The rains were needed now. The two former captives followed the source of the river until they eventually came to a cave. Once inside, he sank to his knees and rested his head against the mouth of the chamber.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The previous evening, Squire Dom had gone round to all the camps as instructed. There was a huge group from Sturt Manor, their children were now back with their parents and emotions were extremely high. Sir Laus was their master, a handsome man of impeccable character, whose father had served King Canagan at Castle Dru. Sir Laus now resided at Sturt Manor, north of the castle. His home was attacked three years ago; most of his workers thought he would never recover and were ecstatic when Dom told then of the plan to escape.
A small group from Fyn's cattle ranch were finishing their evening meal. Their ranch had been hit over two years ago, just before Philip Von Aiden's homestead. They dropped to their knees when they heard they would be reunited with their master, and would soon be home together again.
The survivors from Marshals Croft, didn't know that Marshall himself had not made it, but they listened carefully to what Dom had to say. They had been there the longest, for over five years now, and feared that they would never see their master again; but he had a wife and children that needed them, so a return to the Croft was welcome news.
Will's farm inhabitants were reunited with their children, and their sheds were filled with tears and sobbing from both parents and bairns. The farm had been pillaged several years ago, when Will and his workers had been rounded
up and sent to work at Hezekiah Hall. He lost many men in the fight to protect his land. Those workers never forgot the comrades that fought for their survival; now they were indebted to those who were putting their lives at risk for liberty.
Nate's fishery had lost men to Hezekiah's rule, and they were quietly talking in a huddle together. These survivors were only twenty miles west of the mine. The lake had been polluted, the fish perished, then they were all kidnapped. Nate's family had managed to escape to an ancient dwelling in an underground cave. They had slipped out unnoticed during the siege while Nate and his men fought with the attackers. The men punched the air at the thought of being reunited.
Tion's group of workers were playing reed instruments in the background. His yard of five men were easy to defeat. At one time, all these men were big, burly, bruisers, who liked nothing better than to gamble on anything and drink strong liquor. Most of them ended up in a brawl on a Saturday night in the docks of Ataxata. Now they were shadows of their former selves who had taken to music and song. They were ecstatic at the thought of being reunited with Tion, and smothered the Squire with slaps on the back amid promises of a night out when they all returned.
Those who worked for Ike and Jak on the timber plantation, sat on their beds, ready to retire for another early evening. They all missed their bosses—the twins who were lost somewhere in the mines. Their timber yard was hit many years ago as well. Trees were torched, the place burned down, nothing was left, except a vast stain on the landscape. And here they were now, sitting on their beds listening to the words they had wanted to hear for years. Now, after Dom's revelation of an escape, they began to talk in earnest about how they would build the empire back up again.