The King's Assassin

by M.M. Brownlow

  Chapter 29

  “Well that certainly didn’t go as planned,” Durham muttered to himself while he ran through the castle halls. He knew that he had very little time to get away from here, especially now that Aislynn knew that he was behind the assassination attempts. He’d apparently lost Davin, his “legitimate” claim to the throne, so he had to get himself back to Madelia as quickly as possible if he wanted to try again. He only needed to get rid of Eryk, and then the throne would be his, just as it should have been his father’s, and his grandfather’s.

  He pounded into his room, practically slamming the door behind him, startling Cora up off the couch where she was working on her needlepoint during her time off from watching Davin.

  “What happened?” she asked, immediately picking up on his distress.

  “We have to leave now,” he stated, continuing past her into his bedroom to pick up the bags that he had prepared earlier that day. He had always known that there was a possibility of failure, and had planned accordingly before setting out.

  “What about Davin?” Cora asked, concern evident in her voice. Regardless of whatever faults she had, she did love her son.

  “We’ve lost him, my sister. They are claiming him as Eryk’s heir and plan to send him away for fostering. Likely to Evendell, where we cannot easily follow.”

  “But that’s good, isn’t it? Wasn’t the plan always for Davin to assume the throne as heir?”

  Durham turned to face his sister, a look of exasperation on his face. Sometimes she could be a little slow picking up the nuances of his plans. “Yes, but the plan was for Davin to assume the throne NOW, not a decade from now when he’s actually old enough to rule by himself. I had to be appointed regent, and then when everyone was accustomed to my rule, I could reveal our true heritage as the rightful rulers of Bacovia.”

  “I still don’t understand why you feel that you need to reveal anything,” Cora complained, putting the few things she needed into her bag. “We were fortunate that Grandfather managed to convince anyone with the proper connections to marry him, given the fact that he was a bastard.”

  “Do not say that!” Durham screamed, advancing dangerously toward his sister. “He was the legitimate heir to Bacovia’s throne, the oldest son of the king. His mother was of a noble line, so the fact that the king married another should not matter!” This subject had always been a sticky one for Durham, who hated anything or anyone that tried to belittle his noble bloodline.

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Cora looked startled, and Durham wondered how the guards had gotten organized so quickly. He then realized that the guard would not be knocking, and he went to answer the door. There, waiting impatiently, was a man dressed in Madelian livery.

  “My Lord,” the man said. “I have a message for you from the queen. I was directed to bring this missive to you before bringing this other one to the king.” He held up another envelope. Durham thanked the man, who left to find Eryk and deliver the other message.

  “What is it?” Cora asked.

  “How should I know? I haven’t even opened it yet,” he snapped in response.

  Durham carefully broke the winged serpent seal of Madelia’s royal family, and unfolded the letter. It was penned in the queen’s tight, slanted script, so she had written it herself instead of having it scribed. Interesting.

  My dear Lord Durham,

  It seems that our emissaries have gotten themselves into trouble with Bacovia’s king. That was very poor planning on their part. I have penned a separate letter to the king, giving him permission to execute those men for their poor judgment. In reality, I would prefer not to lose them, so I am charging you with their safety. Make sure Kardon and Sookra accompany you back to Madelia, or it would be in your best interest not to return at all.

  Durham refolded the letter and then lit a candle. Holding the parchment in the flame, he waited for it to catch and begin to burn before he tossed it into the fireplace. He certainly couldn’t afford for anyone to find that.

  “What did it say?” Cora dared to ask, knowing from the look on her brother’s face that it was not good news.

  “It said that we are to have company when we return home,” he answered. “It will take me a little while to get them ready, so why don’t you go on ahead to our country house and I will meet you there as soon as I can.” There was no reason to keep her here, he figured. He’d be able to get away with the emissaries faster without her, and he could pick her up before heading for the border. Or, if things got messy, he could just leave her behind.

  Durham escorted Cora to the stables, walking with her quickly through the corridors, trying to avoid notice. He knew that pursuit would be coming any time now, and he was actually surprised that the alarm had not been raised yet. He instructed a groom to prepare his sister’s horse, and then left her to find her own way out of the city. Their estate was not far, and she would be fine to travel there alone.

  Durham headed back into the castle, staying to the lesser used passages and hallways generally reserved for the servants. He knew where Kardon and Sookra had their rooms, of course, and he knew that they were currently under guard. Whenever he’d had occasion to check, there were always two guards on duty outside of the door. He sighed, bemoaning the fact that he had no hired ruffians left to take care of this for him. He’d have to get his own hands dirty this time.

  “Good afternoon, my Lord,” one of the guards greeted him as he approached the door. “How may we help you?”

  You could just leave and make this easy, he thought to himself. “I have business with the Madelian emissaries,” he replied instead.

  The guard shook his head. “I’m afraid nobody is allowed into the room, my Lord, on the king’s orders. You’ll have to have permission from him before we can allow you to pass.”

  “Well then, I guess you leave me no choice,” Durham replied, drawing his sword and dagger. He’d better make this quick, since he could hear some commotion starting deeper inside the castle.

  Durham feinted with his sword toward one of the guards, but instead of actually following through, he pivoted on his right foot and kicked out with his left boot, connecting with the guard’s knee in a low roundhouse kick. He heard a loud crunching sound, and the guard screamed in agony, his kneecap crushed. Knowing that the screaming would certainly attract attention, Durham stepped past the man as he dropped to the ground, and engaged the other guard. He also knew that Kardon and Sookra would hear the commotion, so he yelled at them through the door.

  “You had better get ready to leave, gentlemen,” he informed them. “We will all be getting out of here momentarily.”

  The second guard was considerably more wary of Durham after seeing what had just happened to his partner, and he circled cautiously. Durham didn’t have time to play games with this man, and he advanced quickly and recklessly, aiming a sword cut at the man’s head as he thrust his dagger toward his chest. The guard parried both attacks at once, angling his sword so that the tip of it blocked Durham’s sword, while blocking the dagger just above the crosspiece.

  Having the man’s attention fully on the upper part of his body, Durham stepped close and pulled his knee up quickly, catching the man in the groin. With a grunt of pain, the guard doubled over, and Durham drew his dagger across the man’s throat, silencing him. He then turned and put his sword through the first guard’s heart, putting an end to his thrashing and noise.

  With a sigh for his bloodied clothing, Durham threw open the door, catching Kardon and Sookra by surprise. He was happy to notice that they were each carrying a bag of hastily bundled clothing and belongings.

  “Time to leave,” he said, wasting no time on pleasantries. “The guards are on their way, and we all have death warrants hanging over our heads, so we should go very quickly.”

  They could hear a lot of noise deeper inside the castle now. It was obvious to Durham that the guards were starting th
eir manhunt, and it wouldn’t take them long to find him if he just stood here. The diplomatic suite was on the second floor, in between the wing where Eryk had his apartments and the wing where Aislynn had hers. They had easy access to the stairs, but going that way would be sure to get them caught. Instead, Durham led his companions away from the stairs, moving deeper into the castle and heading for the royal wing.

  “What are you doing? Are you mad?” Kardon demanded. “The stairs are that way!”

  “I am fully aware of the location of the stairs, thank you,” Durham answered calmly. “Don’t you think that the guards will be in their vicinity? Those stairs lead directly into the entranceway of the castle, so they will be guarded to prevent our escape. We need to go this way.”

  There were a number of different staircases in the castle, some used solely by the servants. It was toward one of these staircases that Durham was heading. He just hoped that the guards hadn’t already blocked them all off.

  They reached their destination without trouble, but there was noise building behind them now, and getting closer with each passing instant. The search was on in full, and it sounded as if the dead guards had been discovered as well. The three men picked up the pace, practically jogging down the stairs, coming out just beside the library. Durham turned into the room, rushing past a few startled servants and heading for the gardens outside. If they could make it to the garden, Durham knew that the way should be clear to the back wall of the castle, where they should be able to escape out into the fields beyond.

  They had fled the library, and were running out into the gardens, when a voice called to them from the wall.

  “Halt! Stop where you are or I will shoot.”

  Durham swore under his breath, seeing archers on the wall. He’d really hoped to avoid getting shot at today. He glanced around the garden, which was overgrown and obviously not well cared for, but there wasn’t any real cover between where he stood and where he wanted to be.

  Durham knew that he was a dead man, regardless of whether he stopped or not. Literally having nothing to lose, he took off at a run across the gardens while the Madelian emissaries stood watching with disbelief written across their faces.

  True to his word, the guard opened fire, sending an arrow streaking toward Durham. The first shot was just a warning, slamming into the ground about a foot in front of him. Durham, ignoring the warning, just dodged to the left and kept on running, heading for the wall he could see ahead of him.

  The guard fired again, this time leading his shot to hit Durham instead of the ground in front of him. Another guard, a few paces away on the wall, also opened fire. Durham had no chance of dodging both arrows, but he tried anyway. One skimmed past, tugging at the cloth of his shirt, but the other hit him in the leg, breaking his stride. As he stumbled, trying to regain his balance, another arrow struck him in the back, the force of the hit knocking him to the ground.

  Desperate to get away, Durham began to crawl toward the wall, now lost to view behind the plants growing in front of him. He knew that it was there though, and he was determined not to give up. His father hadn’t given up his dream of the throne of Bacovia, and neither had his grandfather. Durham was going to make that dream come true, or die trying.

  Kardon and Sookra, now caught by the guards at the library door, stood watching as their would-be rescuer was shot with arrow after arrow until he finally lay still.