Flight of the Nighthawks (33 page)

Nakor put a restraining hand on Bek's shoulder, for behind the chair stood a dozen armed Household Guards. “We wait,” said Nakor softly.

“For what?” asked Bek.

“Something interesting to happen.”

 

Kaspar looked from face to face in the crowd, not entirely sure what he was expecting to see. Many of those nearby he recognized, even
if he couldn't put a name to a face, for most had been in residence during his last state visit; others were people he had met over the last month here in Kesh.

The procession coincided with the parade on the boulevard below the palace. It was timed so that the Emperor took the throne just as the most exotic and colorful elements of the parade passed below his view, followed by a massive fireworks display. Then the revel would be in its full glory. Drunks would be passing out in the streets, fights would be crushed by the constables, babies would be conceived, and tomorrow morning the populace would return to life as usual.

Throughout the city the celebration reigned, but here next to the palace was the highest concentration of citizens, from the foremost to the humblest.

Kaspar looked around and realized that if things got out of hand, more damage could be done to the Empire in this location than at any other time or any other place.

The Emperor's sedan chair was carried through the door, and Kaspar absently put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He waited.

 

Caleb impaled another assassin, this one dressed as a Household Guard, when Zane shouted, “Caleb! Behind us.”

Caleb risked a glance to his right and saw two swordsmen, dressed as Household Guardsmen, racing toward them. “They must be the two from the gate!” he shouted. “I'm busy!”

Zane and Tad turned to face the two newcomers while Caleb barred the door.

Zane said, “I'll take the right!” Tad nodded, then charged at the leftmost guardsman. “Idiot!” shouted Zane, then he leapt after his foster brother.

Tad's impetuousness proved fortuitous, for when he assaulted the swordsman on the left, the one on the right reflexively turned to help his companion. Zane suddenly faced a man who was turned away from him, his left side exposed.

The man realized his error a moment later, but died trying to pull back and face Tad.

Tad then turned his attention to the man facing Zane and saw his brother was holding his own well enough. He remembered what Caleb and the other instructors at Sorcerer's Isle had said about two swordsmen who had not trained together being more inclined to get in one another's way.

He circled to the left, sparing a quick glance to where Caleb held the door and saw that he was being slowly forced back down the three steps leading into the inn. The more experienced swordsman had been easily dealing with Zane, but he saw Tad moving out of the corner of his eye and tried to circle away from the approaching second opponent.

Tad widened his circle, attempting to quickly get behind the man his foster brother faced, and the man moved away from Zane, trying to keep both boys in his line of sight.

Zane was huffing from exertion and perspiration poured off his face. He was glad for the respite. The swordsman moved in a half-circle, trying to get his back to the wall of the building, so neither youth could move in behind him, but Zane moved too quickly on his right hand, and Tad too quickly on his left.

Zane motioned with his head and Tad nodded and suddenly they both ran as if trying to get behind the man, both to their left. The swordsman was faced with the instant choice of turning to face one of the boys and chose to stay with Zane, turning his back for an instant to Tad, who leapt forward and slashed across the man's exposed neck with his sword.

Before the man had hit the stones, Tad was rushing past Zane to stand next to Caleb, who was now down on the street, facing a swarm of assassins who were coming through the door.

Caleb shouted, “Run!”

Zane joined his brother and stepfather and said, “No!”

Tad shouted, “This way!” and started moving backward up the street, away from the palace.

The three fell into line, stepping backward as fully twenty men came out of the inn. The three knew they would quickly be surrounded, but to turn now would invite being struck down from behind. The best they could do was retreat slowly up the street, moving fast enough to keep all the assassins in front of them.

As they reached a point two doors down from the inn, the assassins hesitated, and suddenly a figure with a thick thatch of red hair hurled by them, as Jommy appeared waving a club the size of a ham. He smashed it down over the protective thrust of one swordsman, crushing the man's skull, screaming like a madman in the process.

Then dozens of men were streaming past Caleb and the boys, and Chezarul's agent, Donmati, was standing next to Caleb. The thin dark man asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” said Caleb as he watched the assassins being overwhelmed by Chezarul's men. “How many of you are there?”

“Fifty,” said Donmati.

“See if you can take any of these alive. They are all Nighthawks.”

Tad and Zane caught their breath, and Tad said, “Come on,” and followed after Chezarul's men.

Caleb nodded and charged after him, Zane at his side.

The outnumbered Nighthawks fought viciously, and to a man died, despite attempts to capture one. Suddenly it was silent.

Caleb motioned for the boys to come to him as well as Donmati. “I thought you'd run,” Caleb said to Jommy.

“Naw,” said the affable redhead. “I just went to get some help.”

“It's a good thing you did,” said Tad, putting his hand on Jommy's shoulder. “We'd have been done for in a few more minutes.”

Jommy shrugged. “Looked like you were doing well enough when I got back.”

“Staying alive,” said Zane.

“There's no City Watch,” said Donmati.

“I didn't expect there to be,” said Caleb. He pointed at the far gate, opposite the street where they stood. “Someone killed the guards there and put Nighthawks to guard the gate. The City Watch are either dead, as well, or they're over keeping order at the parade.” He put up his sword as he caught his breath. “I need two of your men to search that inn. See if they can find anything that might prove useful. Then send another to carry word to Chezarul; we're going into the palace.”

“We are?” asked Tad.

“Whoever is orchestrating this night's mayhem expected this bunch”—he indicated the dead Nighthawks—“to come up to the higher levels of the palace to start the killing.” With a half-smile Caleb said, “Instead he's going to get us.”

Motioning for the others to follow, Caleb led the remaining swordsmen of the Conclave toward the now unguarded palace gate.

 

The sky exploded and the crowd cheered and laughed. Kaspar ignored the pyrotechnics and kept his eyes searching the faces around the Emperor. He noted that the two dozen young female “attendants” who had surrounded the Emperor when Kaspar had played him at chess had quietly joined their master, slipping into various places that formed a circle around the dais—positions that would have gone unnoticed had Kaspar not been watching the Emperor instead of the fireworks.

Amafi came to stand close to him and Kaspar said, “See those courtesans standing next to the Household Guards?”

“They are lovely, Magnificence.”

“Yes, but how are they standing?”

“Not like playthings for the Emperor, but as if they are guarding him.”

The young women who had giggled and preened in Kaspar's presence all now stood with forced smiles on their faces, and their eyes moved restlessly around the plaza.

“Don't make eye contact with any of them,” said Kaspar, smiling and nodding as if telling Amafi something funny. “Now laugh and look at the fireworks.”

Amafi did so and said, “They are also searching the crowd. For what, Magnificence?”

“Perhaps they search for us,” whispered Kaspar close to Amafi's ear. “Where's Pasko?”

“On the other side of the plaza, as you instructed.”

“Good. Now, if we can—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the Emperor rose.

Seeing Emperor Diigai standing, the Master of Ceremonies struck
the marble floor with the heel of his staff, causing it to reverberate through the throng. Years of courtly training took effect and within seconds the entire upper plaza had fallen silent.

Those below looked up, and seeing the Emperor standing before his throne, they also fell silent. Within minutes the only sounds to be heard were coming from across the boulevard, too distant for the common folk to see what was occurring.

“Now!” said Kaspar. “It starts now!”

K
aspar gripped Amafi's shoulder.

“Be ready.”

“What are we looking for?”

“I don't know,” said Kaspar, as the Emperor lifted his arms.

“My people!” Diiagi intoned, and his voice carried surprisingly well for a man his age. Kaspar had no doubt that everyone on the two plazas below him could hear their ruler. “Today we celebrate Midsummer Day, the Festival of Banapis!”

The crowd cheered and the Emperor paused for a moment. Kaspar grabbed the trinket Pug had given him and yanked the chain, easily breaking it from around his neck. He held it tightly in his left fist, while his right crossed
over to the pommel of his sword. He was ready to respond with either.

Kaspar glanced to where the two royal brothers stood, amid their families. Both Sezioti and Dangai watched their grandfather with interest. The elder brother's face held an expression of mild surprise, as the Emperor was not scheduled to make an address tonight.

Dangai glanced around the plaza, and his eyes made contact with Kaspar, who nodded slightly. Then he noticed the Prince gently urging his young son to stand behind him as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

“We have much reason for rejoicing in the Empire!” shouted the Emperor. “We are at peace and our harvests are plentiful. Yet, there is a reason for sorrow, as well.”

Immediately there was a hush from the crowd, for this was not what they had expected in the middle of the year's greatest celebration.

“In the heart of the Empire, amid all our bounty, are those who would see all our greatness reduced to ashes! There are those among us who seek to plunge the dagger of betrayal into the heart of Kesh. And even now those traitors stand among us!

“Woe, O Kesh, that a grandfather should confront such grief, for it is from those whom he loves most—from those he expects to reap the greatest joy—that this painful treason rises!”

The old man's bony arm shot forward and he pointed at the two princes. “There are the architects of madness, the betrayers of their line, they who would bring blood into the very house that sheltered them. They, my own blood grandsons, are the source of all the woes that betide the Empire.”

The two brothers stood stunned. Sezioti's expression showed he could scarcely credit his senses, and even though Dangai had been prepared for something going amiss this evening, his confusion was evident. “Now, the madness that hangs over us will end!” shouted the Emperor. “Take them!”

Several of the Household Guards hesitated, while two moved forward instantly. Half a dozen armed men moved to intercept them, telling them to stand down. They were members of the Inner Legion,
and no matter what the Emperor ordered, they would not stand by and see the brothers taken by the Household Guard.

There was a tense moment and many nobles edged away from the confrontation while others tried to get closer to see what was happening. The situation was rapidly reaching a breaking point and Kaspar gripped the summoning ward tightly.

Suddenly, the girls at the foot of the dais pulled short daggers from their kilts, and the Household Guards who failed to obey their Emperor found their throats slashed from behind. Blood fountained from the necks of over a dozen men, and in a near-hysterical cry, the Emperor shouted, “Murder!”

Amafi said, “Magnificence, has the Emperor suddenly gone mad?”

“No,” said Kaspar, drawing his sword. “He was mad a long time ago.” He stepped past his servant, nodded to Pasko, and took his place next to Prince Dangai.

“Take them! Kill them!” screeched the Emperor, and the two remaining Household Guards tried to take a step toward the princes, but were quickly restrained by the legionaries who confronted them.

Members of Dangai's Legion were moving quickly through the crowds above and below, urging people to remain calm, not to start more trouble, and to let the drama between the Emperor and his grandsons play out. Kaspar could hear many voices urging those nearby to keep their heads, as more and more people began to express alarm. Many were fleeing the plaza, heading down the steps to the lower area and the street below, only to find their way blocked by those pressing forward to see what was happening. The struggle between them was threatening to start a riot in minutes.

Kaspar reached Dangai's side, as the Prince shouted, “Grandfather! What madness is this? There is no treason here!”

“You say no treason!” shouted the Emperor, and Kaspar could see the veins standing out on the old man's neck. Kaspar knew that at more than a hundred years of age, despite the sorcery that kept him alive, the Emperor's ancient heart must be close to exploding. His eyes were wide and his color high, as his cheeks were flushed and perspiration beaded on his brow.

“Yet you stand next to foreign provocateurs! You say there is no treason here!” He pointed to Kaspar and the Prince, and shouted, “Kill them!”

No one moved for a moment, then the twenty young women from the Emperor's bedchamber swarmed forward, shrieking and holding daggers high. The first legionaries who tried to block them were struck savagely and several went down, while others reeled backward with deep, bleeding wounds.

“Defend yourself!” shouted Kaspar, and he stepped between the Imperial family and the closest girl. To Dangai he yelled, “Get your children out of here!” Dangai took his youngest child, a boy of ten, and with his left hand moved him in the direction of his mother, while drawing his own sword.

One of the Emperor's concubines hurled herself at the Prince, who lashed out without hesitation, took her below the rib cage, and with a twist pulled his sword out. “Show no mercy! They are all bewitched!” he shouted.

Had Kaspar not recruited Dangai and his men before this moment, he knew it would have ended with the death of the two Keshian princes and perhaps a dozen or more members of their family, but with the men ready, the girls, armed only with daggers, were killed swiftly. Not one retreated or attempted to protect herself, so intent were they on attacking the brothers.

From behind, Kaspar could hear the sound of voices raised in question and others shouting answers. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Caleb appeared and said, “We hold all the entrances to the upper court.” To the Emperor, Caleb shouted, “The assassins who were to start your bloodbath aren't coming. They're all dead.”

The Emperor's face contorted in rage, turning almost purple as he stared with wide-eyed astonishment at his dying courtesans, and then at Kaspar and Caleb.

Kaspar looked up and shouted, “You'd better sit down, or you'll burst your own heart…Leso!”

The Emperor howled a mad, gleeful laugh, and Kaspar dropped the charm Pug had given him, grinding it into the stone with his boot heel.
Nakor could barely see over the heads and shoulders of those crowding the door. At least a hundred nobles had already fled the plaza, and more were departing by the moment. But many of them were still transfixed by the spectacle of the mad Emperor. They were creating a bottleneck for those attempting to flee back into the palace, and the jam was making movement in either direction impossible.

Nakor said, “Bek, can you ask some of these people to move aside, please?”

The powerful youngster grinned, his eyes looking like two shining pools of light in the shadow thrown by his black hat. “Love to,” he said as he grabbed the two nearest men standing in Nakor's way. “Leave now!” he shouted, and if either of the men had been inclined to argue, they thought better of it as soon as they saw the demented grin on the youngster's face, and started hurrying across the great hall.

Bek was like a force of nature, pulling men aside, irrespective of rank, and shouting, “Run away!” After a few moments, the crowd around them decided to abandon watching the confrontation between grandfather and grandsons and they also left.

In just a moment, Nakor and Bek could enter the plaza. As Nakor looked up at the Emperor, he said, “This isn't good.” Just then a flash of light announced the arrival of two figures—Pug and Miranda.

Kaspar said, “Varen has taken the Emperor's body!”

“Oh, this is all too much,” shouted the Emperor. “Just when I had things where I wanted them…” With a cry of pure aggravation, he drew back his hand and made a casting motion. From the palm of his hand erupted a blinding white ball of flame and it flew straight to where Pug and Miranda stood.

Instantly a wall of energy—bluish and pulsing—formed around Kaspar, Caleb, and the princes, and quickly extended in a sweeping arc to protect everyone who stood watching the Emperor.

Blinding light played across the surface of the protective ring, and across the boulevard thousands cheered as if the spectacle were another display following the fireworks above.

A sizzling discharge of energy left the air thick with a tangy odor,
as if lightning had just struck, and Pug stepped forward and said, “It's over!”

Leso Varen, in the body of the old Emperor, laughed. “It's never over, Pug! Didn't I teach you that years ago? Kill this body and I'll find another. You can't stop me!”

Pug pulled the jar out from inside his robe and said, “Yes I can!”

Suddenly the sorcerer's expression changed. His eyes widened and he said, “No! You can't!” The frail old arms moved like a musical master conducting minstrels and the air filled with a thrumming of energy that caused more people to flee. Those on the plaza below who had blocked the exit of those from above now sensed that something terrible threatened, and they also turned and fled.

Whatever this was unfolding before them, it had nothing to do with the normal world, and everything to do with evil sorcery. Battle hardened soldiers stood holding their swords in their hands without the inclination to use them, and others found themselves backing away like children confronted by a menacing street dog. Even some of the most decorated veterans of the Keshian army turned and ran.

Pug said, “I can, and I will.” He smashed the jar on the marble floor and the mad sorcerer howled in impotent rage, as a foul green cloud erupted from the shattered jar. The cloud of smoke swirled like a whirlpool, and the funnel raced from where Pug had shattered the jar and straight at Varen.

Varen leaned forward, and inhaled deeply, sucking the green miasma into his lungs. He straightened and his body became fused with power. The lines in his face started to fade and withered muscles grew plump, and before the eyes of the assembled rulers of Kesh, he appeared younger by the minute.

“First you interrupt the party!” he screamed. “Then you keep me from killing those two.” He pointed at the princes. “And, by the way, do you have any idea how hard it was to enscorcel those girls and get them to betray their masters? Without being caught, I mean? They were all trained spies! It took me months!”

Kaspar's instincts had been correct, for while the body belonged to another, the evil soul was undoubtedly Leso Varen's.

“And you, Kaspar,” shouted the sorcerer. “It wasn't enough you
had that thing kill me once, already?” He glanced around. “By the way, where is it? I really need to get my hands on it. It would be ever so very useful for some other business I have planned.”

“Far from here,” said Kaspar. “Very far from here.”

“Well, no matter. I have ages.”

Pug said, “If you die now, Varen, it's over.”

Varen howled in delight. “Do you really think so, Pug? Do you think I would be so foolish as to not have contingencies? You underestimate the respect I have for you and your…witch? Wife? Which is it?”

Miranda said nothing, she knew Varen was goading her. Softly she whispered, “He's gathering his power.”

Pug shouted, “There is no place for you to flee to, Sidi.”

“Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time.” The Emperor's body now looked as it had at the peak of his power. His hair was raven-dark and his skin smooth and shining with perspiration. “Damn, it feels good to be young again!” Varen looked at the fallen girls from his private apartment and said, “Pity. Do you have any idea how frustrating it was to sit there in that old body…well, never mind. I can find more girls.

“Now, where was I? Oh, yes, it's time to kill everyone!”

“Now!” shouted Pug.

 

Magnus acted. He had been slowly incanting as he watched his father and mother face the mad sorcerer and at the agreed-upon moment he willed himself to his parents' side.

Varen raised his hands high above his head and waves of black energy pulsed downward, rolling and curling like water cascading over rocks, yet flickering like flames across its surface. The evil magic surged, resembling oil burning on the surface of a wave of water. Yet the flames were without light or heat, consisting only of flickering darkness.

Pug, Miranda, and Magnus struggled to protect those around them, while Kaspar and the two princes looked on in mute astonishment.

To the royal brothers, it looked as if the grandfather they revered had been rejuvenated to the powerful man they had known as children, yet he was twisted, distorted, and rendered alien to them by the madness and evil that poured from him. Both stood next to Kaspar. Dangai had drawn his sword, but was unable to move, rooted in place by uncertainty.

Pug shouted, “Let none of his evil touch you! It will consume you like a flame!”

Kaspar looked on in disbelief and horror as those not protected by the shieldmagical defense were consumed. The black flame danced over their skin, and those still alive screamed in agony as their skin blistered, and the flesh blackened and turned to char. The liquid flames were unrelenting and even the bone was consumed after a few minutes.

What was most unnerving was that the black flames produced a chilling cold that threatened to suck the life from those behind the shield. It was a thing of despair and rage, this black flame, and the more Varen railed from his position atop the dais, the more insistent the flames became.