by Max Irons
A vial that was no longer there.
Galeron rifled through the contents of his leather satchel and even turned the coin purse inside out, for all the good that would do. It wasn’t there. The poison had vanished.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lonni.
Galeron’s stomach iced over and dropped so far he feared it might fall out altogether. That explained everything. She was the only one who knew he had it. “The poison’s gone. The mousebane…”
“Where could it have gone?” she asked.
“Arlana stole it,” he said. “That’s why she came to see me. That’s why…”
“Think with your mind next time,” Lonni said.
Did this mean Arlana was going to poison Kolvein like Fletcher was supposed to? It was possible, but why wouldn’t she ask for it? He had no qualms about that, and she knew it. Whatever her use for the mousebane, it was something he wouldn’t agree with. Something that she knew he’d object to. Arlana wanted someone dead, and…
She wouldn’t…she couldn’t. As the thought congealed in his mind, though, it made more sense. There was only one other person at court that fit. Someone Galeron would object to killing, but that she would see as good and necessary.
Arlana meant to poison King Balen.
Of course. How could he have missed it? Arlana used complicated plots for simple goals. Kolvein had too much influence over a mad king. The Delktian might be the problem, but Balen was the reason Kolvein could be a problem. A sane monarch wouldn’t have given him so much power. If Balen died, so did Kolvein’s plan.
Arlana was being unusually short sighted. They both knew that even with one of Balen’s sons on the throne, Soren might attack anyway. In fact, once he learned of Balen’s death, it was almost guaranteed. He was becoming a predator, striking at any signs of weakness.
Whatever Arlana intended to do, she’d likely set into motion long before now. In fact…
“That’s why they took you,” Galeron breathed.
“What?” asked Lonni.
“The reason Rikard was hired to kidnap you,” he said. “It was about keeping me distracted. She’s already done it.”
“What are you talking about?”
He swallowed. “Your kidnapping. It was meant to ensure I didn’t notice or couldn’t interfere with Arlana. She means to poison King Balen.”
Lonni stopped mixing the dust. “Oh. Oh, that’s not good.”
Galeron nodded. The palace was going to dissolve into chaos. With Balen dead, who knew what Kolvein would do in his power’s waning moments?
“We have to get back,” Galeron said.
Lonni gave him a firm glare and resumed mixing. “What exactly do you think you can do? Look at yourself. You barely survived tangling with Rikard. You need sleep, food, and medicine.”
“I’m not about to get any of those in short order,” Galeron said. He winced and rubbed at his knee again. What had he done to it?
Lonni poured her night dust into the powder horn and issued a disapproving sniff. “This is why you get yourself hurt. You don’t know when to stop.”
Galeron scowled. What did it matter right now? What time was it? How long did they have before the sun came up? He shifted positions on the bench. How was he going to get to the inner city with his knee aching like this?
“Don’t give me that look. It’s the truth,” she said.
It was unimportant at the moment. “We don’t have a lot of time left,” he said. “We need to get to the palace and rescue Iven’s sisters.”
“With Balen dead or about to be, what does it matter?” asked Lonni.
“Kolvein isn’t going to relinquish power, and he’s got Bolthor and his lackeys,” Galeron grumbled. “Iven, get out here. We need to leave.”
Iven wandered out of the back room, a tankard in one hand and a loaf of baked bread in the other. “Have we apologized and kissed yet?”
Galeron blinked and his mouth fell open. “What—”
“Get your mind straight and gather your things,” Lonni said. “What we do is none of your concern.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did someone leave you in charge when I wasn’t looking?”
“Just do it,” Galeron said. He staggered to his feet, but his knee buckled under his weight. He sat down. Not good.
Iven frowned, set aside his tankard and bread, and knelt beside Galeron’s knee. He poked, prodded, and pressed at the injured joint, driving a dull ache up Galeron’s thigh.
“What are you doing?” asked Lonni.
“Checking,” said Iven.
She snorted. “You’re no medicus.”
“You don’t say? Is that why I’m carrying a bow instead of a medical bag?” He sighed. “I’m checking for something bad. If he split his kneecap, or tore some massive amount of muscle, I should be able to tell.”
“Not that we could fix it,” Galeron said.
“I don’t think you did any of those,” Iven said. “You haven’t kicked me, so the pain must not be excruciating.”
“Only terrible.”
“Good.” He pressed a large, dried-up leaf into his hands. “Eat that, then.”
Galeron blinked and examined the leaf. Dark brown and brittle, it looked long dead. “Why?”
“Amorin,” said Iven. “Legionaries don’t go anywhere without it, even former ones like these fools. It’ll take the edge off the pain so we can finish this mess.”
Galeron’s stomach did a back flip, but he stuffed the leaf into his mouth and chewed. Harsh and bitter, it rattled and ground in his mouth as if he were chewing on an animal’s bones. He kept his mouth clamped shut after he swallowed, his face contorting at the acrid aftertaste.
“Sorry. You’re supposed to crush it up and drink it, but the water in the back didn’t look very safe,” Iven said. “Even if you did drink ale, you’re not supposed to mix the two. Not unless you want to sleep for a month.”
The amorin leaf took a while to arrest the pain in his knee, but it eventually allowed him to stand and collect his sword from the tables’ wreckage. Galeron slid his blade back in its sheath. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel weakness in the joint, but it didn’t hurt him at the moment.
“How long is this going to last?” asked Galeron.
Iven stood up from one of the bodies, wiping an arrowhead on its clothes. “Less than we want. The more you get injured, the less effective it is.”
“Then we’d best be off.” Galeron rubbed his eyes. One way or another, sunrise would signal the end.
#
Since horses cost money, and neither Galeron nor Iven had thought to bring any form of coin along with them, they decided to steal a few.
“We can’t just take someone’s horses,” hissed Lonni as they snuck into the stables of a butcher.
“Have you got a better idea?” asked Galeron, shutting the doors behind him.
Lonni glared at him. “They aren’t ours.”
“Naturally not,” Iven said, patting the head of a dapple gray. “However, when you think about what Galeron’s already done tonight, horse thieving really isn’t that bad.”
“What?” she asked.
Galeron set to work saddling a brown mare. “We’ll tell you later.”
“What did you do?” Lonni demanded.
“Oh…not much,” Iven grunted. “He just terrorized a few alehouses, threw patrons around like the lumps they were, and pitched one of Rikard’s sell-swords out a window. Nearly ripped his arm off, right?”
Galeron cinched the saddle straps. “It was only broken, and I wasn’t going to rip it off.”
“Why would you—”
“To find you. I swore an oath to your father.” Galeron cut across her question. “Sell-swords aren’t going to hand over useful information without persuasion. Some of them were more stubborn than others.”
She shook her head, face cloaked in darkness. Metal shrieked and clattered from Iven’s stall, and the dapple gray reared, waving its front hooves and whinnying. Iv
en let out a few of his more inventive swears.
Galeron patted the mare’s neck as she shifted in the stall. “What happened?”
“I dropped the bit in the horse’s water bucket,” Iven said.
“Hope you didn’t wake anyone,” Galeron said.
“I’m an archer, not a knight,” Iven grumbled. “Not exactly well-versed in horsemanship.”
Galeron slid a bit into the mare’s mouth and adjusted the reins. A door slammed somewhere outside.
“Out of time,” he said.
Iven grunted and finished up with the bit and the reins. “Nowhere close to perfect, but it’ll do.”
He dragged open the stable doors and returned to mount the dapple. Galeron opened the mare’s stall door and hauled himself into the saddle. His knee gave a brief twinge before the pain receded. The amorin was already starting to wear off.
Galeron extended a hand to Lonni. “We don’t have time to saddle a horse for you. Come on.”
Lonni took his hand and swung herself up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle. “You better not get us killed.”
“Hold on to your hats,” Iven said.
They rode their mounts out of the stables just as a fat, balding man in his night shirt emerged from the building next door.
“Thieves,” he roared as they cantered past him.
“Sorry, we’ll bring them back later,” Iven called over his shoulder.
Wind whistled in Galeron’s ears as they raced through the winding, deserted streets, hooves clattering on pavement and shattering the still night. The faintest vestiges of light hovered over the eastern horizon. They were running out of time.
Lonni’s arms squeezed tighter as they swerved around corners, and her chin hovered over his shoulder. “What’s your plan?”
Galeron slowed down to maneuver beside an early-rising merchant and his oxcart. “I don’t know.” He snapped the reins, and they picked up speed again.
“That’s comforting,” Lonni said.
Galeron ground his teeth. If she had a better idea, why not share it? Who knew what they were going to find in the palace? Maybe Arlana had already killed Balen. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe Kolvein had figured out what was going on and killed her.
“Iven’s sisters are on the fourth floor,” Galeron said. “Protecting them is the first priority. Then we go after Arlana.”
They sped through the gates to Keenan Caffar proper and up the main street. The towering, sharp buildings cast deep shadows in the waning moonlight, and Galeron almost lost sight of Iven once or twice. They found their way to the inner city gates, where two legionaries stood guard beneath flickering torches.
“Halt,” one of them yelled.
The gate was open, and Iven didn’t show any signs of stopping.
“We aren’t stopping, are we?” asked Lonni.
Galeron swallowed. So far, the legionaries hadn’t tried to block the way. “It’s not likely, no.”
Iven bore down on the gateway, despite the legionaries’ shouts, and raced through. Galeron and Lonni followed on his heels. A bell rang in the distance. So much for surprise.
They zig-zagged up the mountainside, bolting past the nobles’ mansions and the still-smoldering entrance to the crypt before rounding a final corner to the throne hall and palace complex. This time, a full contingent of legionaries in their silver-blue armor stood at the doors, spears crossed and helmets closed.
Iven and Galeron pulled their mounts to a halt at the foot of the steps to the hall.
“That’s not good,” Iven said.
“We’re expected,” mumbled Galeron.
“Let’s not keep them waiting, then,” Iven said.
They dismounted and walked up the steps. None of the legionaries moved as they approached.
Galeron rested a hand on his sword hilt and watched the unmoving column.
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Iven said. “I’ve got a very important meeting with Kolvein Mord just now. You might have met him. A scrawny rat with a sadistic side. Face just begging to be punched.”
“Iven Porter, you have been denied entry by order of King Balen himself,” said one of the legionaries.
Iven glared at him. “By the king, or by Kolvein?”
“Is there a difference?”
Iven walked up to him, nose to face plate. “You better believe there is…” He glanced at the legionary’s insignia. “Captain. I’m beholden to King Balen, not some northern upstart with an inflated view of his own cleverness.”
“Sir, I’m going to ask you once to leave,” said the captain.
“If I don’t?”
The other legionaries slid into motion. Short swords rang as they emerged. Galeron drew his own sword, and Lonni unholstered her pistolettes.
“Then, things will get unpleasant,” said the captain.
Iven flared his nostrils and poked the captain’s breastplate. “Then cover your ears, captain. Life is about to get loud.”
Galeron inhaled sharply. So, this was how it had to be. They were going to cut their way through a contingent of legionaries. Was there even time for that? The sun would be up soon, and so would their time.
“Captain, put your sword away,” called a cold, female voice.
Emerging from the darkness behind the legionaries, Queen Tulia strode forward, her face a mask of stone. She shook her head as her gaze passed over Iven, Galeron, and Lonni.
“Vaughan’s name, but I hate it when she’s right,” Tulia said. “Captain, put your sword away.”
The legion captain sheathed his blade and bowed low. “My queen, we have orders from—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Tulia said. “Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, your orders are no longer relevant.”
Dare I ask?
“Why would that be?” asked Iven. “They came from King Balen.”
“The king is dead,” Tulia said. “A seizure. It happened about third watch.”
Galeron swallowed. They were too late. Arlana had manipulated him again. The legionaries didn’t respond. They seemed almost unable to.
“Lord Porter, you and your friends need to come with me,” Tulia said. “There is very little time left.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Queen Tulia led them through the throne hall and into the back passages. “Kolvein has barricaded himself on the fourth floor of the palace with his mercenary mages. From what I know, your sisters are still alive.”
Iven took a shuddering breath. “Good.”
Galeron blinked. “Why?”
Tulia shot him a confused look. “What do you mean?”
“His plan was to eliminate house Porter,” said Galeron. “Why are they still alive?”
“Leverage,” she said. “He might be willing to die for his cause, but Bolthor and his lackeys are not. To keep them in check, he must pretend he wants to live as well.”
Galeron frowned. “Then why the barricade?”
They climbed a set of stairs and emerged into the palace atrium.
“Thank Arlana for that,” said Tulia. “She fooled Kolvein into believing one of the grand mages is still here. She’s been wandering about in similar robes for over a day now. It’s likely he won’t risk open combat.”
“What are we doing, then?” asked Iven. “He’s not going to keep Dianna and Phoebe alive forever.”
“Arlana suggested sending the three of you in to get them out,” Tulia said. She gave Galeron a particularly harsh look. “Personally, none of you look up to the challenge.”
Galeron scowled at her. “I can handle more pain than most.”
Tulia snorted. “Of that I have no doubt, but there are five mages on the fourth floor, including Kolvein himself.”
“He won’t be a problem,” Galeron said. “From what I understand, he’s useless in a straight fight.”
“Underestimating him put all of us in this predicament,” Tulia said. “Be wary of such mistakes again, sir knight.”
“How are we getting i
n if there’s a barricade?” asked Iven.
“Arlana believes you and your paladin can find a way,” she said. “She has too much faith in him for my tastes.”
“Where is she?” asked Galeron. It was high time they talked.
“Keeping Kolvein occupied outside the stairwell,” said Tulia. They turned another corner and ascended the stairs. “So long as she is there, the ruse holds. You cannot speak with her, or you’ll break the illusion.”
“Won’t Kolvein get suspicious if she keeps doing nothing?” asked Iven.
“High mage Stella is famous for her tremendous power over fire and earth.” Tulia stopped at a landing and walked into a long corridor. A few legionaries fell into step behind them. “Such magic is ill-suited for confined spaces. Her powers might bring the entire palace down if they were unleashed. Were she here in truth, she would not enter combat, but Bolthor’s mercenaries are too afraid to venture into her line of sight.”
Galeron nodded. Made sense, after a fashion. Kolvein had his back against the wall, and he couldn’t kill the Porter sisters without Bolthor’s men stopping him. They were the only real bargaining chip left.
A stalemate, and Arlana was counting on him to break the unbreakable.
“Where are we?” asked Iven.
“Fifth level of the palace,” Tulia said. “This bedchamber is directly above Carys’s.”
“Where Kolvein has my sisters,” Iven said.
Tulia nodded. “You need to find a way down, and soon. I cannot predict him with any certainty, but Kolvein will figure a way to kill them before long.”
“If he hasn’t already,” mumbled Lonni.
Galeron glared at her. “Try to be a little hopeful.”
She snorted. “This, coming from you?”
“Quiet,” Iven said. He glanced at Lonni. “How much dust do you have?”
“Enough,” she said. “Why?”
“Can you blast your way through the floor?”
Lonni shook her head. “That’s a bad idea. We might kill everyone there with falling rock, we might break our legs on the way down, or it may not work at all. Explosions aren’t as controllable as a firelock.”