Interregnum (51 page)

The stone bounced off Brendan’s shoulder and he spun around to see Tythias behind a tree gesturing wildly back towards the sea and then up at the gate. With a nod, he crouched lower and whispered to Jorun and a second later, the two broke cover and ran for the gatehouse. Tythias ducked out from the tree and ran with them.

“Keep your mind on your work you two!”

The three of them disappeared under the arch and Tythias pointed to Jorun and at a small door that led to the gate’s small guard room. It may be unoccupied but there was light shining out from under the door and enemies should not be left behind you. Jorun nodded and stepped to one side of the door, drawing a heavy mace from his belt. Tythias and Brendan didn’t stop to sightsee and the only evidence of Jorun’s activities was a brief distant crunching noise as they moved quietly up the steps to the next level.

The first floor of the gatehouse had a long table and a number of chairs, but they were rotten and ancient and largely unusable. The dust remained undisturbed except around the periphery, so no one used this level and probably the next one except to move between the ground and the wall walk.

Sure enough the third level was dusty, deserted and entirely unfurnished. The two rebels spared the room only a cursory glance as they passed through, up the final flight of stairs and out onto the roof of the gatehouse. The two huge drum towers of the Water Gate were connected by a central walkway, with stairs down from each tower onto the wall itself. Tythias had watched the roof for several minutes while waiting for the signal and had counted only three men. Three unprepared men.

The scarred mercenary captain was first out of the doorway, his straight sword with the serrated section of blade close to the hilt held forward and ready. There were in fact four men on the gate, one of whom had remained seated and hidden from the ground. Despite Caerdin’s order, he came to a halt several feet from where the four stood and sat around a brazier warming their hands. Moments later, Brendan came scraping to a halt beside him, his own sword out and paired with a long dagger in the other hand.

“One chance… that’s all” the captain of the Lion Riders announced clearly, if quietly. “Surrender and no one has to die.”

It was a hopeless gesture as far as Brendan was concerned and, as the men rose, their hands going to their weapons, the shaven-headed mercenary leapt forward. The seated man, struggling to his feet with his sword half-drawn was the first casualty. Brendan’s knife plunged through the back of the chair, pinning the stunned man to the wood. Letting the knife go, he spun round, his sword flashing as the second man finally freed his weapon. The two blades met with the ring of metal and a few sparks. Beside him, Tythias had leapt for the other two. Brendan fought like a maniac, his blade hammering across and down at the guardsman. The man was good and despite his surprise he was holding his own. Stepping back, the bald mercenary grinned and made a beckoning gesture. Behind the man he saw Tythias’ sword rammed deep into another guardsman’s chest and even he winced at the noise as the captain withdrew the blade and the serrated section sawed through bone on its way out.

The guard, growling, leapt forward at Brendan, his blade flickering. The mercenary grinned all the more as he turned the dancing blade easily aside each blow.

“We’re fightin’, not pissin’ about!”

The guard came on again and, as his blade flicked again toward Brendan’s shoulder, he ducked to one side and brought his foot down very heavily on the guardsman’s knee. There was an eye-watering crunch and the man collapsed to the floor whimpering. He opened his mouth to scream and the burly mercenary brought the pommel of his sword down on the top of the man’s skull with another unpleasant crack. The body went limp.

Brendan looked up to see that the fourth man had surrendered and Tythias had given him cord with which the man was already tying his own legs tightly. The burly mercenary grinned as the captain glanced over at him.

“Is that one dead?” Tythias asked.

Brendan shrugged. “Dunno. Hang on.”

With a grunt, he lifted the body, the lower leg dangling at unnatural angles and, with a step backward, tipped him over the parapet.

“I’d say yes, at a guess.”

Tythias grinned and turned as Jorun burst through the doorway at the top.

“Ack!, ah-ah-ah.”

Tythias nodded sympathetically and pointed at the man busy tying his own legs together. “Make sure this little prick is very securely tied and gagged and then you and Brendan get going. I’ll see you at the Gorgon Gate.”

Jorun nodded and Tythias made for the stairs onto the wall. At the last moment, he looked back at Brendan. “And don’t try to make him fly. He surrendered.”

The burly mercenary gave him an exceedingly innocent grin and then trotted over to join Jorun. Tythias turned once more and jogged down to the wall. “Gods help the Empire with those two running amok together!”

Prince Ashar moved through the shadow of the Arch of the Four Seasons without a sound. He dropped back against the wall and scanned the Ibis Courtyard. Empty. Lifting his hands to his face he called out with the sound of an owl and was answered from all around with the sounds of night-time wildlife. Six. Six men in the courtyard. Ashar was proud of his men and wondered how many guardsmen had met an unfortunate end before they’d all made it here. He waited again for a moment and watched as the door to the Raven Palace opened and a number of the islanders exited with Sarios, Mercurias and his own doctor among them. The Prince moved quietly out of the shadow and made three barely perceptible movements with his hand as he trotted lightly across the stone. Figures melted out of the shadows all around the courtyard. Two came towards the door the islanders had just left, converging with their Prince. The others unhooked already prepared grapple lines from various places around the decorative stonework and began to climb. Ashar and his two assistants dropped back against the wall as Sarios led the islanders past. Neither the minister nor any of his fellows made any sign they’d noticed the black-clad assassins. Ashar nodded. They were being watched then.

Again, he made a motion with his finger and one of his men ducked around the doorway for a split second. When he stepped back he held up his hand, all fingers spread. With a nod, Ashar ducked round and disappeared into the doorway, the other two entering silently behind him. Five guardsmen stood on the ground floor, sharing a flask of something and leaning on the rail of the great staircase. Two of them collapsed instantly clutching their throats; Ashar had made no such promise about taking prisoners.

Not a sound escaped from their victims as they were systematically and quietly dispatched. The last body had not even hit the floor before they were up the stairs and into doorway of the dining room. The sight that greeted Ashar assured him that the meal had gone down well. Perhaps too well. Not a single figure exhibited a sign of life in the room. It had been a slaughter; a mass poisoning on an unprecedented scale. With merely a shrug, he gestured for one of his men to check the room thoroughly while he and the other continued on along the corridors.

Athas worried about the young man in his charge. Darius had said nothing throughout their spasmodic journey across the island, ducking from shadow to shadow. He hadn’t been waiting for signals and had been moving at pace like a man possessed. And now they were standing at the bottom of the servants’ staircase in the Peacock Palace, listening carefully. There were definitely sounds up there… likely the Sergeant was preparing to dine. The meal had been taken through to the rest of the men first, as the Sergeant had sneered at the broth and demanded something special. Well, looking at the glint in Darius’ eyes, he was damn well going to get it.

Athas laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and he didn’t flinch.

“Listen to me, lad…” the dark-skinned giant whispered quietly. “You killed your first man tonight and that should take something out of you. You should feel something about it and it worries me that you don’t seem to care. Killing coldly is not healthy; look at Kiva. Do you really want to become like him?”

Darius turned to face the sergeant and Athas’ fears grew as he saw the look on the boy’s face. “This isn’t murder; it isn’t even killing. This is cleansing. Don’t worry about me Athas; I’m quite in control.”

Before the sergeant could reply, the lad had started moving lithely up the spiral staircase, curving round to the right as he climbed. Muttering unhappily under his breath, Athas followed close.

Darius slowed as they reach the upper levels. This staircase was a private one for the slaves and servants working in the kitchens below to deliver food directly to the Imperial apartments on the top floor and with any luck the guardsmen didn’t know about it. Athas remembered the couple of times he’d actually been admitted to the apartments in the old days. The door was disguised from the inside as part of the wall’s decoration. The Emperor Basianus had had the door hidden for aesthetic reasons, but that might work to their advantage now.

The staircase came out onto a narrow landing with shelves of stone built into the wall on either side, beneath which stood old bronze braziers. Here the stone shelves would be kept constantly warm and dishes could be left while the rest of the meal was brought up from below. Then, when the entire meal was ready and stored in the warming corridor, the servants could knock and approach the apartment with a full spread. Darius had stopped and was looking about himself vacantly.

“The wall ahead is a door,” whispered Athas. “One good push and it should pivot open if it’s still in good repair.”

Darius nodded and stepped up to the blank wall with the burly sergeant at his side. There were at least four voices within. Darius put his shoulder against the wall, but the sergeant’s hand came down heavily on his shoulder yet again in restraint.

“Shh. Listen.”

The voices were not clear, muffled as they were by such a thick and heavy door, but the guard sergeant was recognisable, and several other guards were present.

“…figures moving on the roofs and no answer to our signals from the Water Gate…”

Athas ground his teeth. “Someone’s fucked up. We’d best get back down to where we can help.”

Darius shook his head as he listened. There was the muted sound of heavy booted footsteps leaving the room. “They’ve all gone bar two. I’m not leaving yet.”

Athas made to pull Darius back by his shoulder, but the lad wrenched away from him and slammed his shoulder into the door. There was a creak and a groan from the aging construction. “Help me!” he demanded.

The big dark mercenary growled in frustration, but bent forward and added his shoulder’s weight to the lad’s. The door swung ponderously open, but the speed of their entry and the noise it caused had attracted far too much attention. The guard sergeant and his companion were already in the middle of the room and moving on the door with their weapons ready. The leader sneered at them. “So the boy brings me one of the missing islanders, eh? That’ll save time; I can punish you now and relax a little tomorrow.”

Darius shuffled out of the doorway and danced sideways to cut off the exit to the rest of the apartment as Athas walked slowly and purposefully out into the room and dropped his sword point first to the floor and leaned it against the wall next to the door. The big man growled gently as he examined the sergeant.

“I’ve been trying to convince myself that you all deserve a chance to surrender, but Darius was right. You
are
a shifty piece of shit. You have no idea what’s going on, but you assume that you’re in control of it. You’re not.”

The other guard made a lunge for Athas, his blade held out in a very artistic fashion, as though he were engaged in a sport or display. The big sergeant pivoted, kicking the man’s wrist hard and the blade skittered away across the floor. He smiled as he stepped in toward the man.

“I’m not an islander, you pointless ass.”

The guardsman put his fists up to ward off the blow of the big mercenary, but Athas knocked them aside and, reaching out to grasp the man’s head, wrenched it around with a crunch, so that the entire head was reversed and the suddenly sightless eyes stared out above the man’s spine. Ignoring the body as it fell to the floor next to him, the big man’s smile grew wider.