Stolen Crown

by Shawn Wickersheim

  Oliver opened his eyes. His face hurt. He reached up and touched his cheek. The skin there was burnt black, marred by the fire’s kiss. Panic welled inside him. He closed his eyes again and worked to reform his fine features. The burnt part remained unresponsive. He tried again. And again.

  And the scream that escaped him was ugly, dark and nasty much like the right side of his face.

  The disfigurement remained.

  chapter 34

  Kylpin had never been seasick before, but after Josephine’s wild ride south through the narrow streets and alleys of Belyne, he thought he might be suffering something akin to it. Twice he’d almost lost his hat, and once, he’d almost lost his seat as she drove the team of horses at breakneck speed through one tight turn after another. If she could sail half as good as she drove, she’d be a better sailor than most captains he knew.

  Avoiding two manned checkpoints had led them to a back alley which according to Josephine would eventually bring them to within a few blocks of the northern edge of the Square.

  “We can’t get any closer without going past those wardens,” Josephine said.

  Minutes later, Garett Navarro called for her to stop.

  “Let me out here,” the fire mage hollered. He popped a fresh piece of charred wood in his mouth and pointed to a set of stairs cut into a stone wall up ahead on the right. It led to the rooftops. “I need to gain some height.”

  Josephine hauled back on the reins and applied the wooden brake.

  “I’ll . . . uh, uh . . . stick with him,” Philson said as he piled out too.

  Kylpin nodded to the huge barkeep. While they had scrounged up a couple of swords and the carriage, the big man had found a music store and returned with a small set of pipes. Josephine and Garett had both shot him questioning looks, but Kylpin had simply asked, “Are you sure about that?”

  Philson shrugged his rounded shoulders, patted his enormous belly and gave him a lopsided grin. “I think it’s time.”

  “Good luck,” Kylpin said.

  The carillon bells began to ring. Noon! Dammit, they had run out of time! He exchanged glances with Josephine. She snapped the reins.

  “Meet you back at Theodora’s . . .” he called out. Garett was already at the top of the stairs. Philson was struggling up after him.

  “Do we have a plan?” Josephine shouted over the clatter of hooves.

  “We save Ian and Lumist and kill anyone who tries to stop us.”

  Josephine nodded. “Been working on that all morning?”

  Kylpin snorted. “I had to do something while I paced.”

  Josephine laughed. It was a pleasant sound and despite their grim business Kylpin couldn’t help but join her. He immediately felt guilty about it and their shared moment of levity quickly fizzled. Perhaps she’d felt the same way.

  Before he could ask, they rounded a corner and came to a dead end. The team of horses stopped in front of the blank brick wall.

  “That’s new,” Josephine offered.

  “How far to the Square?”

  “Couple of streets over.” She pointed. “I suggest we run.”

  Kylpin jumped down and went to the nearest door. It was locked. He turned to her. “Can you pick it?”

  “I’m not a thief,” Josephine said. “But Edgar has shown me a few things.”

  “My first mate, Arne Salmini showed me a few things too,” Kylpin said. He raised a boot and kicked the door in.

  “That works too.” Josephine fearlessly rushed inside. Kylpin trailed after her.

  The small apartment was empty. The inhabitants were probably at the Square eagerly awaiting the execution of his friend. Kylpin’s anger flared. He didn’t feel so bad about breaking their door.

  They hurried through the string of rooms and came out on a street crammed with empty coaches. A cheering roar erupted nearby, and Josephine pointed. “The Square’s on the other side of this building.”

  Kylpin glanced up at the stone monstrosity standing between them and their friends. He groaned. The Bank of Belyne. They wouldn’t be kicking down any doors here. “We’ll have to go around.”

  Josephine drew her crossbow and shook her head. “There’s no time for that. Follow me!”

  And before he could suggest otherwise, she charged up the stairs and burst through the main doors.

  chapter 35

  Like a wedge slowly being driven into a stubborn log, Arthyr Bailey and his small band of bloody Gyunwarians, pushed and shoved and fought their way inexorably forward through the mass of maddened, screaming Yordicians. If all the monsters had been defeated, he did not know. If the men following him numbered two or two hundred, he did not know. If the pain in his left hand was a scratch or something worse, he did not know. He only knew what lay directly ahead of him, and until it was the Ambassador, he would not stop.

  Even a pair of large Yordicians itching for a fight didn’t slow him. He simply head butted the first with his helmet and stabbed the second with his knife. They went down. He stepped over them and pressed on without missing a beat.

  He was more than halfway to the tower but still a long way from the platform when Sir Lumist Tunney confronted the king. Pride swelled inside Arthyr as the two exchanged words. Sir Lumist had long been a hero to the Gyunwarian people, first as their champion in the tournaments, but more importantly, now as a champion for the poor. Often, he opened his home to families in need, and he worked tirelessly to provide for the people of Lower Ryerton.

  “Executioner . . . Bring me that knight’s head.”

  The king’s words burned through the blood’s taking and seared Arthyr’s brain.

  “NO!” he roared. A renewed rage surged through his weary body. “NO! NO! NO!”

  The rest of Sir Lumist’s words and the king’s responses were lost to him. What he was doing with his fist, his feet, and the knife in his hand was lost to him. The next few moments became a blur as he struggled to move the damn Yordicians between him and his hero out of his way! He was close now, but not close enough . . .

  The sword rose.

  “NOOO!”

  A ball of fire like a great comet screamed past him directly overhead. The intense heat and immediate pain from it was like a harsh slap to his entire body and he and everyone around him dropped to the ground, flattened as if smashed by a giant’s palm.

  The comet punched into the side of the mighty bell tower near the top, engulfing the balcony in flames while a smaller explosion spewed stones and bricks out the opposite side. Angry black smoke billowed out of the top of the lean obelisk as it swayed and groaned. An unseen bell clanked. Screams and cries and shouts filled the Square as the confused Yordicians gathered themselves and tried to sort out what had just happened.

  And then, one long eerie musical note stretched out across the midday sky and immediately Arthyr felt a cold finger of fear spear the base of his spine. His breath caught in his throat. The burnt-tipped hairs on his arms rose. The note turned into a gut-churning screech and he and everyone else in the Square cringed and clamped their hands over their ears. Still, he could not escape the haunting cry!

  Dread filled him as he raked the jagged skyline with his eyes. And then he saw it, a great crimson dragon perched majestically across the entire top of the Bank of Belyne, a horrific nightmare come to life. His hands trembled. Piss streamed down his leg. How he had missed it before, he did not know, for it was so large he couldn’t seem to see it all at once and what he did see only made him want to run away and hide forever.

  The mighty dragon raised its horned head, opened its impressive maw and flashed its white fangs. Ropes of saliva hung from its black lips. Its forked tongue snaked out and tasted the air. Suddenly, it inhaled sharply, its broad chest expanding and then it roared. Arthyr winced. The sound was like a thunderclap locked between his ears. Fire spewed from its gaping jaws and even from this distance, the heat was like a furnace blast against his face.

  Hundreds of Yordicians fled in panic. Many of his Gyunwarians fo
llowed suit. Arthyr would have joined them too if not for the two men on the platform. He couldn’t abandon them now. Gritting his teeth, Arthyr climbed to his feet and struggled on. Panic and chaos swirled all around him, but he was resolute in his purpose.

  He was going to rescue his countrymen and get them to his brother’s ship and even a dragon appearing out of legend wasn’t going to deter him . . .

  Unless, he conceded, it decided to fly down from its perch and gobble him up.

  chapter 36

  Josephine shoved her way through the bank’s front doors and found herself at the bottom of more stairs. Green marble ones. She remembered them from the last time she’d been in the building. It had been years ago, and her father had come seeking a loan. She and Leigh had played on the marble stairs while her father talked to someone important in some back office. Leigh had slipped and banged her knee and Josephine had been consoling her when her father came back. His face was pinched up tight and his cheeks were flushed with anger. Josephine knew without asking the meeting hadn’t gone well but Leigh never seemed to notice those kinds of things. “Did you get the gold?” she’d asked.

  “No!” her father said loudly, his voice echoing in the vast entryway. “These bastards don’t . . .”

  He’d swallowed down the rest of his reply and that had been the end of it.

  The next day he’d paid a visit to Bolodenko.

  Jaw clenched, Josephine took the steps two at a time. At the top were two bank guards. When they moved to intercept her, she leveled her crossbow at them. “I’m not here to rob the bank!” she said. “Just show me a way out the back.”

  The two guards looked at each other. One was tall and gangly and the other was short and stout. They both wore black uniforms with the Belyne city crest on their chests.

  “There’s no ‘way out the back’,” Gangly spoke up. “Now why don’t you put down your crossbow-?”

  “What’s over there?” Kylpin stepped up beside her and pointed to the far side of the atrium. Josephine marveled at the size of the bank. Her father’s entire keep could have fit inside just the entrance hall alone.

  “Offices,” Stout said.

  “Do these offices have windows?” Josephine said. There weren’t many customers waiting in line, but the few that were, were starting to take notice of them. A couple of tellers were looking over their way too. “Do they have windows overlooking the Square?”

  “Of course,” Gangly said. “But the lower level windows all have bars on them.”

  “What about an upper level office?” Josephine said.

  “Look here, lady!” Stout stepped forward and puffed up his chest. “You’re already in enough trouble-”

  Josephine slugged him as hard as she could. Stout’s eyes almost popped out of his head. He staggered backwards and sat down hard.

  “I don’t have time to fiddle around here!” Josephine shouted. She leveled her crossbow at Gangly’s chest. “Take me to a back office with a window overlooking the Square with no bars or I’ll find someone else who can!”

  Gangly’s head bobbed up and down.

  “NOW!”

  Gangly made a ‘follow me’ gesture and sprinted across the atrium. Josephine and Kylpin followed close on his heels. They were halfway across when six archers appeared along a second-floor balcony overlooking the main level. “STOP WHERE YOU ARE!” one of them shouted.

  Kylpin grabbed Gangly’s collar and swung him around placing him between them and the archers.

  “We’re not here to rob the bank!” Josephine called out. “We just-”

  “Drop your weapons!”

  Josephine glanced over her shoulder. Four more archers had appeared on the opposite balcony.

  “Behind us too,” she whispered to Kylpin.

  “Give up,” Gangly suggested. “You can’t win.”

  “They won’t shoot as long as you’re with us,” Josephine said.

  Gangly shook his head. “You don’t understand. We all took an oath. They’ll shoot me just to get to you.”

  “I think you’re bluffing, my friend.”

  “I wish I were,” Gangly said with a sigh.

  “DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Josephine said.

  Kylpin glanced her way. “What do you suggest?”

  Josephine eyed the hallway opening on the far side of the atrium. It was maybe a hundred feet away. Between them and safety were four desks, a large podium and a couple of potted trees. “Run!”

  Grabbing Gangly’s arm, she and Kylpin raced across the atrium floor pushing the guard along ahead of them. Arrows whizzed down all around them, skipping off the marble floor beneath their feet. At some point, Gangly cried out in pain. Kylpin released his collar. Josephine tried to keep him going but after a second arrow caught him high in the chest, she let him go. He fell, but in falling, he reached out and caught her ankle. She stumbled and crashed into a desk. Arrows thudded into the wood top next to her arm. She rolled over and landed behind it.

  “Keep moving!” Kylpin shouted from the hallway.

  Josephine gathered her feet beneath her, peeked out from behind the desk and saw the archers running along the balcony. A couple stopped and took aim on her position. The buzzing inside her head drowned out all thought. She raised her crossbow and fired a couple of shots in their direction before spinning around and racing for the hallway.

  An arrow thudded into her backpack and she hoped it hadn’t damaged the metal discs she was carrying. Though at this point, she wondered what good they would do her or Lord Ian. Even if her grandfather in Bel’yowlye could unlock the information contained within them what would it prove? Lord Ragget had conspired against Lord Ian? By the time she sailed across the ocean and back, who would be left alive to care? Lord Ian? By now, he could already be dead.

  His son? His family back in Gyunwar? They’d probably appreciate knowing the truth . . .

  Firing her crossbow wildly behind her, Josephine dashed across the last of the atrium and dove for the safety of the hallway. Kylpin caught her and kept her from falling over.

  “Where to now?” he asked.

  “Upper floor, back office.”

  They raced down the hallway until they found some stairs. Two flights up, they ran into another archer. His shot missed. Josephine’s didn’t.

  She pushed through a door and ran down a long hall, took a right and ran to the end. Trying to keep her sense of direction about her, she took another right and then a left. They should be heading due south toward the Square. The hallway emptied into another that ran perpendicular to it.

  “If we’ve reached the back of the bank,” Josephine said, “Any of those doors should work.”

  Kylpin went to the nearest and tried the knob. Locked.

  Josephine raised her foot and kicked the door open. “I guess I’m a fast learner,” she said as she brushed past him.

  Kylpin laughed.

  Sunlight streamed in through the dusty south-facing windows. The room was empty save for a small desk and two chairs. Josephine ran to the window and looked out. They were three stories up and directly across the street from the Square. A dark-haired man was chained between two wooden pillars. His back was a shredded mess of ruined skin and blood. Another dark-haired man . . . Sir Lumist . . . was being led over to the block.

  “What did that old fool think he could do all by himself?” Kylpin said. He glanced at the window frame. “How does this thing open?”

  Josephine picked up a chair and swung it at the window as hard as she could. Both it and the chair broke. Using a wooden leg, she knocked out the remaining shards of glass.

  “I’ve created a brute . . .” Kylpin muttered. He leaned out. “I’ll drop down first. You follow.” He glanced back at her. “Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll catch you.”

  “No need, I’ve dropped from this height before.”

  “We don’t have time to argue about this.”

  “You’re right.” Josephi
ne shoved him aside and knelt in front of the window. “We’re out of time.”

  Sir Lumist was on his knees. The torturer stood over him wielding a sword. The old knight stretched his hands out to either side. Kylpin slammed his fist against the window frame. “Shoot him!” he shouted. “Shoot that bearded bastard now!”

  Josephine braced her arm on the windowsill and sighted down the length of the tiller. Breathe in, breathe out. This was just like when she’d been on the roof across the street from her father’s keep waiting for Lipscombe to come out. Breathe in, breathe out. She’d made shots like this before, but never with so much riding on it. Breathe in, breathe out. She’d have to time the trigger pull just right though. Breathe in, breathe out. She’d have to pull the trigger during the quiet pause between two breaths.

  Breathe in . . .

  “What are you waiting for?” Kylpin cried. “Take the shot!”

  Breathe out . . .

  She was still breathing too quickly. She had to slow it down. She had to be calm.

  Breathe in . . .

  A bead of sweat ran down her face.

  Breathe out . . .

  The torturer raised the sword over his head.

  Breathe in . . .

  “TAKE THE SHOT!”

  Breathe out. Everything inside her went quiet.

  She pulled the trigger.

  chapter 37

  With a grunt, Stephano Di Rygazzo started his downward swing. The blade whistled as it arched through the air. It was going to be a beautiful strike. The knight’s head would fall away cleanly. And with any luck, it would tumble just right, roll just a bit to one side and the old Gyunwarian’s last image before everything went dark would be of his executioner’s face, seen through a mist of spraying blood. Now that would be a memory worth stealing!

  Something hard and sharp punched through his left hand and slammed into the hilt of the borrowed sword. Pain and shock jolted through him. A split second later, the jostled blade skimmed past the top of the knight’s head and thudded into the platform.