Duke of Minds (Master of Monsters Book 4)

by Stephen L. Hadley

And then, with little warning, they were through. A raucous cheer went up from the elves at the fore, the sound spilling back in a sluggish wave. The ranks began moving again, slowly, like water leaking from a cracked basin.

  Leo turned to Nyssa. Judging from the frown blossoming on her face, she was of the same mind.

  “It can’t be that easy,” he said, just loud enough to be heard.

  Nyssa grimaced and shook her head.

  And yet, at first blush, it was indeed that easy. The center barricade gave way in under a minute, its defenders fallen or fleeing. The two adjacent gates had drawn attackers from the fringes of the central battalion, but they too yielded in short order. Soon, hundreds of Leo’s soldiers were streaming into the outskirts of the city and were quickly, haphazardly corralled by their officers.

  “Lieutenants will take fifty men,” Buchanan shouted above the din. The man was going hoarse, but his voice had lost none of its urgency. “Sergeants will take two dozen. Keep to the main streets. Maintain line of sight. Don’t engage the enemy unless you outnumber them and don’t be afraid to withdraw. The captains and I will reinforce as needed.”

  “Damn it,” Nyssa growled. “I don’t like this.”

  She stepped forward before Leo could reply. Even without direct orders, the elves nearest the penetrated barricade stood aside to let her through, followed swiftly by Leo and Karran.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, once they were through and onto the adjoining street. The avenue was unpaved and broad, though the sheer number of soldiers gathered made it feel uncommonly tight—as did the dozen corpses left behind by Grey’s men. “Is he making a mistake?”

  “No,” Nyssa said, drawing out the word. “I just… don’t care for it. This whole thing feels like a trap.”

  “Then let’s spring it,” Leo said. He caressed the hilt of his sword, fighting the urge to draw it just to emphasize his point. “To the Ministry first?”

  Nyssa sighed and rolled her shoulders to adjust the fit of her armor.

  “Very well,” she said. “To the Ministry.”

  ***

  The streets were empty. Of all the numerous details that stood out in Leo’s mind, that was by far the strangest. He’d explored Ansiri in the dead of night, during riots, and in the aftermath of several coups, but never before had he seen the streets empty. The city, for all intents and purposes, appeared completely abandoned.

  It wasn’t, of course. He could feel the gaze of countless eyes watching him as he marched down a wide boulevard, accompanied by one of Buchanan’s lieutenants and the fifty elves he commanded. But the fact that he saw no one, not even the odd beggar or roving urchin unnerved him.

  Grey’s men pounced before they’d gone more than a dozen blocks.

  Leo spotted the first man, a short, stocky man dressed all in gray, a split-second before the ambush began. Under different, less impactful circumstances, the foreknowledge might have saved him a scare. But the sight of the forty-odd men bursting from the alley that sheltered them, swords in hand and snarls on their lips, momentarily stole the breath from his lungs and the strength from his legs.

  Fortunately, he seemed to be the only one so afflicted. Nyssa seized him by the nape of his armor and dragged him smoothly away from the charging force. Interposing herself between them, she drew her swords in a single, graceful motion. Karran joined her next, claws and fangs at the ready. And then, with a sudden roar, the rest of Leo’s soldiers joined the fray.

  Though Leo was confident he could rely on Nyssa and Karran, he drew his own blade a second before the first man fell. He was still holding it a few minutes later, unsullied, when the last ten men turned to flee. They did not make it far. Having lost only four to the foe’s thirty, there was ample strength to ensure that Grey’s men did not avoid the martial fury the ambush had roused in Leo’s forces. The elves pounced upon them like starving hounds thrown too few scraps of meat.

  Returning his unused sword to its scabbard, Leo struggled to ignore the piteous slaughter taking place only a few steps away. Nyssa, likewise, met his gaze with a wordless grimace. Only Karran did not seem disturbed by the violence. She fidgeted impatiently at Leo’s side as if eager to move on. Fortunately for her, the lieutenant did not keep them stationary for long.

  “Weissen,” the man called, gesturing at one of the elves. “Fetch a surgeon for the wounded. Ambrose, you stay here with them until he returns. Try and catch up if you can but don’t go wandering. The rest of you, make sure you haven’t lost a finger and let’s get a move on.” The lieutenant froze as he spotted Leo and seemingly remembered his presence. “Er, assuming Your Excellency has no objections?”

  Leo snorted and shook his head then gestured for the man to lead the way.

  They continued onward. And were it not for the tacky blood staining the soles of his boots, Leo could almost have forgotten the ferocity of the recent skirmish. The elves with him had outperformed his wildest expectations, no doubt thanks to their having survived several similar conflicts in the past few weeks. Grey’s men had fared so poorly that Leo nearly pitied the man.

  So it was that he was clothed in damnable smugness when the row of archers appeared atop a squat, two-story building two doors ahead of them. Leo mistook them for curious onlookers at first, until the officer among them shouted and several of Leo’s soldiers shuddered and dropped to the wave of loosed darts. And, just in case any questions remained, an unsuccessful arrow sent skittering across the cobblestones inches from his boot settled the matter.

  Again, Nyssa grabbed him by the armor and practically threw him into the relative shelter of a nearby building. He missed the lieutenant’s shouted command in the confusion, but the man must have kept his cool. Fully half the elves raced toward the treacherous building, their swords drawn and at the ready. The rest of their number, those armed with spears and pikes of momentarily impractical use, took shelter near Leo or recklessly dragged their fallen comrades from the exposed middle of the street.

  “I should have bought some fucking bows,” Leo grumbled.

  Nyssa glanced at him, frowning as if unsure whether he was joking. Then, upon deciding he was not, she shook her head in silent exasperation.

  “Lieutenant!”

  The sudden, dismayed cry was spoken in more than one voice. Alarmed, Leo leaned out from the cover of the building and its small overhang.

  One of the elves crouched low, dragging the wounded man in Leo’s direction. He had to move carefully. Anything more than a foot or two from the structure’s façade was at risk of being peppered by arrows.

  The lieutenant had not been careful enough. A shaft protruded from the man’s ribs, blood leaking down the length of the wood from the gap where the head had slipped through. It was an atrociously unfortunate wound. A number of similar arrows, half a quiver’s worth at least, lay buried to various, ineffective degrees in the man’s burnished steel breastplate. Only the one had slipped through the cracks, yet it was more than enough to lay the man low.

  “Stop! Stop, damn it!” the lieutenant snarled as his would-be rescuer made to drag him past Leo into greater cover. The elf knelt and began to inspect the lieutenant’s wounds but, once again, the man waved him aside with a pained grimace. Then he turned to Leo.

  “One way to the roof, sir,” the lieutenant said through gritted teeth. “Must be thirty of them holed up in there, plus the archers. Beds and couches all piled up. Half of us would die before we reached them.”

  “Good man. Thank you,” Leo said. He clapped the lieutenant’s elven rescuer on the shoulder. “Get the lieutenant somewhere safer and then go find him a surgeon.”

  He waited until both man and elf were safely out of range of the arrows then leaned into the street once more to examine the scene. This time, an arrow whizzed past his head, missing it by inches. Inhaling sharply, Nyssa yanked him back into cover.

  “What do you think?” Leo asked. “Burn them out?”

  Nyssa’s eyes widene
d then narrowed. Examining the nearby buildings on either side of the street, she grimaced.

  “They’re close together,” she observed. “It could easily spread.”

  Leo glanced about. She was unmistakably correct. The alleys between buildings were narrow here, even narrower than usual, with barely enough space for a man’s shoulders. Once begun, even a modest fire could swiftly flare out of control. And the city would hardly welcome him as a conquering hero if he did so by burning it down.

  “I’d rather risk that than waste lives,” he said.

  It was hardly the most subtle of moves he’d ever made. If Cirilla had heard him, she would undoubtedly have rolled her eyes at him. But from the way the elves sheltering nearest him relaxed and began to smile grimly, even grandiose words were welcome.

  “Karran,” he said, turning to face her. “I have a job for you.”

  The ambrosian grinned. And, as Leo shared the details of his plan, her claws slowly flexed and curled into eager, deadly fists.

  Nyssa was far less enthused about the idea. She didn’t protest aloud, of course. She’d known him long enough and was trained well enough to know better. But Leo could tell from the furrowing of her brow and the ready angle of her swords that she was skeptical.

  “It’ll be fine,” he assured her. Eyes glued to the archer-laden roof, he inched forward toward the fateful doorway.

  Nyssa did not reply.

  Without the guidance of their lieutenant, sword-wielding elves that made up the initial assault force had stalled. They clung to the edge of the occupied building, shoulders glued to the wood for fear of suffering the same fate as their commander. None had fled—no doubt for the same reason—but neither did they appear eager to venture near the doorway.

  Their reluctance was strangely fortuitous. It left a man-sized gap on either side of the door. And, taking a deep breath, Leo promptly filled it.

  “You lot inside,” he called. At the sound of his voice, both the interior and exterior of the building grew utterly silent. “Is there an officer or commander I can treat with?”

  For a few seconds, no one answered. And, in a fit of recklessness, Leo was about to risk a peek inside. Before he got the chance, however, there came a wooden scraping sound like a chair being righted and dragged.

  “Aye,” came a gruff, lightly accented reply.

  “Wonderful,” Leo said, rolling his eyes. “And do you have a name or rank?”

  “None that I’ll give ye pointy-eared bastards.”

  Leo sighed loudly.

  “Then it’s fortunate that I’m not an elf,” he shot back. “Leo VanOrden, Duke of Ansiri, Lord of the Isles, and First Admiral of the Navy.” He paused a beat then sighed again. “I can keep going if you’d like. There are more.”

  Commotion stirred within the depths of the barricaded building, whispering mostly, though it subsided quickly. The sound of it made Leo grin.

  “Snyder,” growled the unseen man. “Lieutenant. Deputy Mayor of Mattenberg.”

  “Lieutenant Snyder,” Leo echoed earnestly. “How would you like to go home? I’ve never been to Mattenberg, but I’m certain it’s a far fairer place to live than this latrine pit of a city.”

  A few unlikely chuckles answered Leo’s words. As before, they were quickly silenced. And, yet again, there was a pregnant pause before Snyder spoke again.

  “I’d like that plenty, yer Dukeness,” the man said. His voice had lost some of its gruffness, but Leo found the replacement tone far more oily than expected. “Only, I’ve heard stories ‘bout ye. They say ye’ve got a quicksilver tongue and spend yer days plowin’ monster bitches. So I’m wonderin’ why I ought t’ trust yer word when me and my men can just sit back, safe like, an’ wait fer this war o’ yers to end, eh? Whatcha say t’ that, Lord Pervert?”

  Leo’s eyes narrowed.

  “I think it’s time that Mattenberg finds itself a new Deputy Mayor,” he growled. Then, loud enough to make himself heard by all, added, “Very well. Since your commander will not listen to reason, I’ll put the offer to the rest of you. Lay down your arms, surrender, and you have my word you will not be harmed. Any man who refuses will die.”

  This time, Snyder did not hesitate. The man barked a laugh that sounded liable to turn into a cough at any second.

  “Oh? An’ how d’ye figure that’ll happen?” he taunted.

  “Cooked in your armor, I expect,” Leo said calmly. He turned to meet Nyssa’s eyes then stared past her to the waiting elves. “Bring the torches. We’ll burn these rebels out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Your Excellency!”

  Leo glanced over his shoulder at the winded and red-faced officer hurrying his way. Fortunately, one of the others managed to intercept the man before he was forced to explain, yet again, the reason for the thick plume of smoke curling into the evening air. The first two instances had been a necessary annoyance, but one he refused to indulge in any longer.

  He turned back to the captive sergeant and folded his arms.

  “What else?” he asked.

  The sergeant, a man named Haskell, fidgeted and cast an anxious glance in the direction of his fellows. He was plainly worried that they would judge or condemn him for answering Leo’s questions, though Leo doubted any of the kneeling men had even noticed his absence. They were far too distracted coughing the smoke from their lungs to even glare at the elves guarding them, much less at a particularly forthcoming officer.

  “Look at me, not them,” Leo said, firm but gentle. “What else has Grey done?”

  “The, uh, the nobles,” Haskell said, dropping his gaze to Leo’s boots. “The Du—er, the Count—one of the captains said he freed the nobles you—I mean, Your Excellency—had locked up. He said they’d gone to the Ministry to plan the defenses. Some fellas were saying they’d pressed near every man in the city, but that don’t sound half-right to me. We’d barely enough swords to begin with.”

  Leo nodded distractedly and patted the sergeant on the shoulder. His hand came up sooty, and he grimaced.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” he said. “Go rejoin the others.”

  The man hesitated, and Leo forced a smile before he could protest outright.

  “It will be fine,” he continued. “As I said, none of you will be harmed. I can hardly blame a man for following orders.”

  Haskell flashed a faltering smile and bowed clumsily before retreating. Two or three of the prisoners nearest him glanced at him in mild suspicion but, as expected, that was the worst of it.

  “That lieutenant of his was following orders too,” Nyssa reminded him as she wandered back to his side.

  Without intending it, Leo’s gaze wandered back to the burnt-out husk of the once-barricaded building. It hadn’t taken long to ignite at all. And it had been scant minutes longer before the men staggered up the stairs to the archers’ perch, coughing and gasping for air. Or, rather, the perch that had once belonged to them.

  Karran had been waiting for the men, her claws stained and dripping with the lifeblood of the effortlessly slain archers. She’d killed two of those fleeing the smoke before the rest retreated back into the burning building. And although their lieutenant had cursed and bellowed orders for them to retake the rooftop, it had not taken long for one of the men to decide that risking the noose was preferable to a guaranteed death by smoke, flame, or an ambrosian’s claws.

  They’d staggered out a minute later, unarmed, retching, and lieutenant-less. The flames that had driven them so were not so easily dealt with, but they had succeeded in extinguishing them before the fires could spread. The unintended consequence of his ploy, however, was the seemingly endless parade of reinforcements the smoke drew to his cause. Nearly four hundred soldiers had gathered already, filling the breadth of the street for several blocks.

  “Not my orders,” Leo muttered. “You heard what he said?”

  “About the nobles? I did,” Nyssa said. She caressed the pommel of
Mihal’s sword. “Even if it’s just for a week, they’ll think of Grey as the man who rescued them. You’re going to have a hell of a lot of enemies when this is over.”

  “There’s only one enemy that matters. When Grey has been dealt with, the other nobles will fall in line.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  He shrugged then snorted and gestured at the elves surrounding them in three directions.

  “What do I need nobles for? Look at all my fine friends.”

  The number of soldiers gathered made it simultaneously simple and challenging to get the host moving. It was simple in that the elves tended to remain loosely gathered in their squads of ten and fifty. It was a challenge in that it took Leo the better part of two minutes to find where all the officers had gone. Their armor was similar enough to that of the ordinary conscripts that it was not until Leo condescended to ask a nearby elf that he was informed that he’d already passed the cluster of sergeants and lieutenants twice in his wandering.

  Grumbling curses under his breath, he joined them.

  “We’ll lose the light in half an hour,” he announced, loudly enough to silence all rival conversations. “Any word from Buchold or Lucius?”

  The men and elves exchanged identical glances until the most senior among them, a human lieutenant Leo was fairly confident was named Pierro, answered for the group.

  “Nothing yet, sir.”

  “Then we can’t waste any time,” Leo said. “We’ll stick together and head for the Ministry. Buchanan may arrive before us, but we can use the plaza as a base to begin searching the city. Any questions?”

  There were none.

  “Good. Then let’s move.”

  And move they did, slowly at first then with increasing speed and confidence as they approached the Ministry. Several times, they spotted the enemy lurking in alleys or narrow side streets. But, without fail, the would-be ambush evaporated without so much as a drawn sword. No doubt Grey’s men were under similar orders to avoid pitched battles. In any case, by the time they passed into the noble district and within sight of the Ministry’s broad, stone steps, there was an eagerness to the precisely timed footsteps that set Leo to grinning.