by Kal Spriggs
She held the edge of the dagger against his throat, “This dagger is coated in Dyleth Sap. It is a very deadly poison. The slightest break in your skin can let enough in that your internal organs will liquefy and you'll bleed to death out of your eyes, anus, and ears.”
He quivered a bit and she smelled more urine as he wet himself again. She spoke again, her voice soft and reassuring, “Why are they here?”
His voice shook as he answered, “They came for some of the prisoners, some of Lord Hennings' followers and family, I think.” He paused and spoke, “There's two more of them upstairs, waiting.”
“Good,” Siara said softly. “What did you tell them about me?”
“That you were an Armen woman we captured, that you were the Grand Duke's mistress, and that you were spying on him for the Armen,” he said quickly.
“Did you give them my name?” Siara asked intently.
“No! Why would I?”
“Good,” Siara said. She raked the dagger across his throat and stepped away as he coughed and gagged. She weighted each of the curved daggers in her hands, for though while she recognized them, they were not weapons that her mother had trained her with. Still, she was familiar enough with daggers... they would have to do.
She followed the cooling footprints of the attackers down the corridor and started up the stairs. Despite her worry for Lord Tarken's safety, she took the stairs slowly to allow her eyes to adjust to the light from above. She would do him no good if she were dead. She prayed to the spirit of Hall Armath that he would be safe until she could reach him to warn him.
She paused, just before the landing and listened. Down the corridor she heard a mutter of conversation from the freed prisoners. Just under that she heard the soft sound of boots on the flagstones as someone turned.
Before the man completed his turn, she took the last stairs on silent feet and slipped up behind him. The Armath Kuul had no warning as she plunged a dagger into the side of his neck. She didn't try to catch him as he fell, for his companion had heard his grunt of shock and pain.
The other one shouted at the huddled prisoners to run and he hefted a sword and advanced towards her at a jog, “You are not a normal Armen breeder, are you?” He asked in the tongue of the Semat Armen. This, she realized, must be the leader of this team.
“I am not,” she answered in his masters' tongue and she saw his eyes go wide in surprise. Before he recovered, she threw her dagger. He ducked with uncanny speed but she had expected that as she ran at him, she slid down past his side and raked her other dagger across his leg. He let out a grunt of pain, but that didn't stop him from stabbing down at her.
She rolled out of the way of that strike, but he stabbed again and again. He knew he was dead, she realized, but duty held him and he continued to attack as she rolled and tried to break away.
He kicked at her as she stabbed him again. Her dagger flew from her hand and he kicked at her again. She caught his kick and twisted his leg to put his weight fully on his wounded leg. He let out a grunt of pain and she jabbed her thumb with it's bone spur up into his crotch and rolled away.
He trembled, but despite the two poisons working their way through his blood, he stayed on his feet. “What is... your... name?” He asked as he took a quivering step.
“I am Siara, daughter of Marka Pall and Virana, daughter of Djaan Kenobus,” she responded.
He slowly sank to his knees and the sword fell from his hand as his body trembled. He bowed his head, “Then... I am felled... by.... a powerful foe.... and not a coward or weakling. Thank you.” He collapsed.
She went to the weapon rack nearby and pulled out a spear. She threw aside the poisoned dagger, took a belt from one of the dead prefects, and tucked their clean daggers through the belt, without bothering with the sheaths. Siara spun and glared at the other freed prisoners. “Out of my way,” she snarled.
Most of them were dressed in finery and they backed away from her like a group of sheep threatened by a wolf. It was good that they knew a predator when they saw one, she thought. She couldn't care less if they tried to flee or if they returned to their cells, so long as they stayed out of her way.
Stay alive, my love, she thought as she jogged out of the dungeon, I am coming for you.
***
Grand Duke Christoffer Tarken
Christoffer leaned against the wall and panted as the door thudded with impacts. “How long will it hold?” he asked.
Jenkins looked up, his eyes bloodshot, “Not long, my Lord.” He had two slashes on his arms, and the big, gap-toothed man had clearly been affected by whatever poison their attackers had on their blades. He barely stood, his weight supported in part by the heavy desk he held against the door.
Christoffer had managed to avoid any injury so far. Gervais, with his armor, seemed alright so far as well. Christoffer looked at the young man, “It seems you'll have your chance to fight by the side of the Grand Duke, after all.”
Gervais gave a grim smile, “It is a pleasure, my Lord, though I might wish for better circumstances.”
Christoffer agreed with that sentiment. He looked over at where Nikolas stood. Somehow the wizened little man had acquired one of the prefect's spears. He had used it, too, for Christoffer had found a pair of dead assailants in the outer room of his suite when they'd arrived.
“Where are the damned prefects?” Christoffer muttered.
“They're not the fiercest fighters, my Lord,” Nikolas said as he hoisted his spear. “Pair of them went running away just outside from the ones that came down the hall. One of them even dropped this in his haste.”
Christoffer grimaced at that. It seemed that Lord VanEggar had been neglectful in his duties in more ways than one.
The door trembled from a sharp impact and splinters burst from a hole. Jenkins, despite his wound, stabbed through it with his sword and a man on the other side gave a scream.
The impacts redoubled though and the door seemed to disintegrate. Christoffer and Gervais hurried forward, but not before Jenkins gave a shout and leapt into the open gap, his cutlass swinging.
Christoffer winced as he saw the man spit himself on a pair of spears, but Jenkins fought on, stabbing and hacking at the assassins as they tried to come through. The man fell but not before Christoffer, Nikolas and Gervais were in position to kill still more of the attackers and drive the rest back. The Ducal Blade seemed to hum with an angry whine and the blood on it smoked and hissed as the runes that ran the length of the blade glowed with heat.
Their attackers had only backed as far as the entrance of the outer room. Over the barricade of the desk, Christoffer saw at least a dozen more of them. Some wore prefect uniforms, either taken from the dead or perhaps they had actually served. All of them had almost identical looks and features, with lightly tanned skin, brown eyes, and light brown hair.
“Who are you, why do you attack me?” Christoffer called out, suddenly sick of the bloodshed.
None of them answered. They talked among themselves, quietly, their words familiar but oddly unintelligible, like some odd blend of southern and northern dialects. Christoffer's face hardened as they formed up for another attack, the ones in armor at the front.
“We can't hold them,” Gervais said in a low voice. “Maybe, though, if I charge them, you could slip past them...”
Christoffer shook his head, “There's too many, even with your armor they'll bear you down with numbers before you could make room.” He spat angrily, “We'll kill more of them as they try to come through.” As his anger mounted, he saw the Ducal Blade's runes glow brighter.
The enemy came in again and Christoffer stepped forward to the barricade to meet them, alongside Gervais and Nikolas. His steward's spear punched forward and the attacker that ducked met Gervais' sword strike instead. The knight's runic blade sheared through the helmet and split the man's skull.
Christoffer slashed across at the next assassin, who tried to block the strike with the haft of his spear. The Ducal Blade sli
ced through the metal studs, shaft, the assassin's hand, and continued to slice through his chest. Christoffer stepped back as another attacker took his place, and then stepped forward again in a lunge that took that man through the heart.
He heard a sudden ululating wail and the assassins in front of him froze, surprise on their faces. Christoffer wasn't certain what the source might be, but he and Gervais pressed forward and attacked as their enemies hesitated.
Christoffer cut downwards and took off the hand of the last of the armored attackers. Nikolas thrust in and caught the man in the throat as he stumbled back. Gervais bulled into the assassin's ranks and they stumbled back. Beyond them, Christoffer saw someone else charge into their rear and still more of the assassins fell.
Christoffer gave a bellow then and charged ahead. The assassins seemed paralyzed as they were attacked from both directions. He slashed across and took a man's head from his shoulders and then thrust to run another man through. He saw Gervais shoulder one of the assassins into the wall hard enough that the man slumped down, his head flopping at an odd angle.
Then, suddenly, there was a gap and Christoffer froze as he saw Siara. She stabbed downward and took one of the men in the spine and left the spear there as she drew both daggers. Another assassin came at her and she ducked under his strike and raked both daggers across his belly to spill his intestines.
An assassin, dragging useless legs, caught Christoffer's feet and shouted something. One of the last assassins stepped forward in front of Christoffer. He saw the man level a rod at him, and he froze, unable to move as the assassin activated the runes on it.
He heard Siara shout out and saw the man stumble as she plunged both daggers into him, but it was too late, Christoffer saw the rod flare with light. Then, Nikolas jumped in front of him. There was a loud crack and his steward stumbled back into him. Over his shoulder, Christoffer saw the last assassin fall. Christoffer dropped the Ducal Blade and caught Nikolas. The wizened little man gave a slight cough, but the gaping, smoking wound on his chest showed that it was more reflex than any sign of life. Christoffer cradled the man to his chest and felt tears fill his eyes. He looked up as Gervais and Siara came to stand over him. “Why?” Christoffer asked, in part for his dead friend and in part for what felt like such a senseless bloodbath.
“Are you well, my Lord?” Siara asked.
Christoffer nodded, too overwhelmed to remember that she should be in a dungeon. He slowly lowered Nikolas's body to the floor and then stood. He felt all of his cycles as he surveyed the carnage. “I'm not wounded,” he said softly. He looked to Gervais and Siara, “You two?”
Gervais just shook his head as he wiped his blade on a bit of cloth taken from a dead assassin. Siara spoke, “I am unwounded, my Lord.”
A shout in the hallway drew their attention and a moment later, several more men in Prefect's uniforms stepped in. Christoffer took up the Ducal Blade and he saw Gervais and Siara ready themselves as well.
“The Grand Duke is alive!” one of them shouted into the hallway. A prefect in an officer's uniform stepped forward and sheathed his sword, “My Lord, I am Commander Strasser. We've driven off the other assassins...” he hesitated as he saw the carnage in the room. Christoffer saw then that the man's white overcoat was unstained and his armor showed no signs of fighting.
“Where have you been?” Gervais demanded. “The Grand Duke had no other protection besides myself, two unarmed sailors, and a woman you had locked in the dungeon!”
The Prefect's Commander looked more than a little shaken, “I came as soon as we had driven the other assailants away. If Lord Tarken were in the Grand Duke's quarters, we would have had more people to defend him.”
“Did you stop them there?” Siara asked her voice cold.
Commander Strasser hesitated, “We would have held that area, if we'd reason to do so.” His eyes focused on Siara and his face flushed, “And you! You are supposed to be in the dungeon.”
Gervais muttered something under his breath. Christoffer shook his head, “Commander, Siara just saved my life.”
“We have no way to substantiate that she wasn't in league with these assailants,” Commander Strasser said quickly. “Lower your weapons, woman, and let my men take you into custody.” Siara gave a glance at Christoffer, but before he could say anything she bowed her head and dropped both daggers.
“This is ridiculous,” Christoffer said. “I'm the Grand Duke, I vouch for her.” He felt anger begin to stir in him. This idiot had not been present for the fight itself and now he wanted to imprison the woman who had saved his life.
“She's suspected of being a spy and until she's faced trial, I'm afraid I need to take her into custody. Those are the standing orders, from the Lord Chamberlain,” Commander Strasser said doggedly. He still didn't seem to realize who he was talking to, Christoffer noted angrily. He waved at two of his men, “Take her back to the dungeons.”
“Where is Lord VanEggar?” Christoffer snapped.
“What, my Lord?” Commander Strasser asked.
“The Lord Chamberlain, where is he?” Christoffer asked.
“Uh, he is holed up in the North Tower with the reserve while we clear the rest of the Citadel,” Commander Strasser said.
Christoffer stared at the man for a long moment, “Your reserve is at the North Tower?” The North Tower lay at the tip of the peninsula, furthest out from the rest of the Citadel. That meant the prefects with Lord VanEggar would not be able to act as a reserve, for they wouldn't be able to react to the attackers with any speed. Instead, what they made was a perfect bodyguard element for Lord VanEggar.
“Of course, my lord,” Commander Strasser said. “Now, I will detach a pair of Prefects to secure your safety and escort you to the Duke's Quarters–”
“No,” Christoffer snapped. “You will do as I say, or I will relieve you here and now, is that clear?”
The Prefect's Commander blinked at him in shock, “My Lord?”
Christoffer turned away, “Sir Gervias Wachter,” he spoke formally.
“My Lord?” Gervias asked, his face attentive.
“After due consideration, I am accepting your petition to restore the Ducal Guard, effective at this moment,” Christoffer said. “I ask that you provide me with security and protect me since the prefects have failed in that charge.” He looked around and noticed one of the junior prefects who had been in the thick of fighting, with blood spattered across his armor and a bandage on his arm. “You, come here.”
He turned back to Gervais, “Send this man to call up those you trust with my security.”
Commander Strasser spoke up, “My lord, this is highly irregular...”
“Commander Strasser, you are dismissed,” Christoffer said. “You may sweep the rest of the Citadel for signs of the attackers, but after that is complete, you will report to the Lord Chamberlain's office, is that clear?”
The man nodded quickly, though he didn't seem to understand what was going on. He would, soon enough, Christoffer knew. I let them run things because I expected a modicum of competence, Christoffer thought angrily, clearly I expected too much.
***
Christoffer stepped into the Lord Chamberlain's office, followed by Lord Erich and preceded by three armored men that Gervais had introduced and vouched for. Gervais and two more of his friends followed him into the room.
The opulent and spacious office seemed a much grimmer and smaller place with their presence... which was perfectly fine with Christoffer.
Lord VanEggar rose, “My Lord Duke, I am so glad to hear of your survival...” He trailed off as he saw Christoffer's escort. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Lord VanEggar, you are hereby notified that you are relieved of your duties as Lord Chamberlain,” Christoffer said formally. “In addition, all members of the Citadel's servant staff, prefects, and all contracts related to the upkeep and maintenance of the Citadel are hereby revoked, pending review for gross incompetence and criminal negligence.”
Lord VanEggar's face went pale, “My Lord, surely there is some mistake...”
Lord Erich spoke up, “The only mistake here is mine, for convincing Lord Tarken to keep you in this position. I was worried that it might upset the rest of the Council to see one of their number dismissed so soon after his appointment.” His face held a mix of disgust and self-loathing, “If I hadn't done so, many people would still be alive, to include your own son.”
Lord VanEggar went pale at that, “But Ham? He left the Citadel last night headed for...”
“He returned late last night and stayed in the guest wing... which is where several of the assassins slipped in,” Christoffer said, his voice harsh. “Your son and fifteen other notable guests are dead, along with thirty servants, twelve prefects, two pages, and three of the finest men with whom it was my pleasure to serve.”
“And for that,” Lord Erich finished, “we have opened an official inquiry, led by Lord Oswald as the Minister of Justice. He's looking into whether you accepted and gave bribes and illegal favors in the course of your duties as Lord Chamberlain.” Lord VanEggar slumped back, shock stealing away his spine and leaving the weasel-faced man like a limp noodle in his oversized chair. Lord Erich gave a grim nod at that, “These fine gentlemen will escort you to quarters we have set aside for you while the investigators look through your office for any other signs of misdoing.”
Commander Strasser stood quiet, his face pale. Christoffer stared at him for a long moment, “From the reports I've received so far, your own failures seem to be more a case of gross incompetence rather than collusion... which is the only reason I'm offering you this chance: resign now, testify at Lord VanEggar's trial, and afterward you may go into exile at your cousin's house in the country.”
Commander Strasser nodded slowly, like a man of advanced age, “My Lord, thank you...”
“I'm not finished,” Christoffer said, his voice hard. “Inform your men, those that remain, that they are to cooperate fully with Lord Oswald's investigation. General Schoelhorn has sent two companies to secure the Citadel. You will task some of your best men to give them a full tour. Any of your men who wish to apply to join the new Ducal Guard, which will take over defense of myself as well as the Citadel, may contact Sir Gervais Wachter, who will interview them when he has time.” He met the other man's eyes and he hoped that some measure of his anger and disgust got through to him. Some part of Christoffer wanted to string up the incompetent ass and most of his men and only his duty and sense of responsibility held him in check. “Now get out.”