Master and Fool (75 page)

"Until later,
my brother," said Crayne. It was the first time Jack had heard him use the
knight's formal address to Tawl. Tawl looked at Crayne for a moment, his
expression showing many things, but most of all respect. Crayne nodded almost
imperceptibly and Tawl turned and walked away. Jack reached forward and clasped
hands with both knights. He had already made the mistake of letting Nabber out
of his sight without a word of thanks, and he was determined it wouldn't happen
again. "I want to thank you-" Crayne cut him short with a wave of his
sword. "Wait until we're safe, Jack, and thank us then."

"Aye,
lad," echoed Hervo in his soft, lilting voice. "Until we're all
safe."

The stairs wound
upward, broke for a small landing, and then continued on. Occasionally there
were passages and doors leading off, but thick layers of dust spoke of no one's
passing, and they hurried by them without a word. The stairs themselves were
clean. Tawl took every step carefully now, and Jack followed his lead. Leather
soles padding softly against the stone were the only noise they made.

The farther away
from the nobles' quarters they traveled, the cooler Jack's face became. His
blood was not pushing for the surface anymore, but his heart still raced and
his stomach felt like a spiked lead ball.

"Ha! Ha!
Ha! "

The sound of
laughter made the spikes dig deep. Jack glanced at Tawl. He had heard it, too.
They rounded a few more steps and then the laughter came again. Nearer this
time. Tawl raised his sword, beckoning Jack to his side, and they took the next
few steps in unison.

The light grew
brighter, the noises became louder, and abruptly the stairs ended in a
rectangular hall. Two guards were sitting on the floor, between them lay plates
full of food, several lit candles, and a set of gaming pieces. For a fraction
of a second the two men looked up, startled expressions frozen on their faces,
and then they whipped out their swords. Wooden chips scattered as they rose to
their feet. Tawl lunged forward and sliced the smaller of the two in the thigh.
His companion made a broad defensive sweep with his sword and Tawl was forced
back. Jack slid into the space that opened up at the side and attacked the
injured guard's flank. Feeling a sharp jab in his side, Jack stumbled back,
winded. Tawl locked swords with the big man, metal screaming to a halt.
Somehow, Tawl had managed to draw his short-knife with his left hand, and he
used it now-slashing at his opponent's sword arm--to break the deadlock. As a
reflex action to the attack, the guard withdrew his sword. Tawl allowed him no
space and jumped forward as he stepped back, spearing the man's chest with his
blade.

Jack was fending
off an attack from the injured guard when Tawl came from behind and stabbed the
man in the back. The man cried out and fell hard onto the stone floor, bones
cracking as he landed. Tawl ran his sword through both men again, aiming for
the heart each time. Sweat was pouring off his brow and his breath came short
and ragged.

"Are you all
right?" he asked, wiping a blood smear from below his eye.

Jack nodded.
"The chain mail stopped the edge from getting through. I think I'll end up
with a few bruised ribs, that's all." Jack was in a lot of pain, but now
wasn't the time to mention it.

"Who's
there?" came a small, muffled voice. Jack and Tawl glanced at each other.

Tawl rushed over
to the door that lay opposite the stairs. "Melli, is that you?"

"Yes, it's
me!"

Hearing those
words, Tawl closed his eyes. A look close to hunger crossed over his face, and
his lips mouthed something that Jack could only guess was thanks. He pushed
hard against the door. It didn't give. "Stand back!" he cried. Taking
a brief run-up, he slammed his shoulder into the door. The lock gave way and
the door swung open.

Jack felt a faint
shearing
sensation ripple through his body. It was as if something passed through
him like a ghost. But then Melli was there standing on the threshold, and the
sight of her was enough to make Jack forget the feeling the moment it passed.

She was so
thin-like a child-her blue eyes huge in a face smaller and paler than he
remembered.

Tawl swept forward
and grabbed her. He took her in his arms and held her tight against his chest.
Jack was reminded of how injured men press their fists against a wound to make
the bleeding stop. Tawl was like that-an injured man. His shoulders were
shaking and his hands jerked up and down, stroking Melli's hair, her back, her
cheeks, her neck. He couldn't stop touching her. When she pulled away to greet
Jack, he didn't want to let her go. He clasped at the fabric of her dress as if
that alone would hold her.

Gently, Melli
disengaged herself from his grip and turned to face Jack.

Seeing her full-on
for the first time, Jack knew that Melli was no longer pregnant. "What
happened?" he said. Melli looked at him through eyes as dull as etched
glass. "Baralis murdered my baby."

Baralis' eyes
opened the moment the sigil danced. A wave of tiny prickles jigged their way
across his brain. The door was open. The sigil had been broken.

Day or night,
Baralis always knew what time it was, and he knew now that it was far too late
for the guards or Mistress Greal to be paying Melliandra a visit. He got out of
bed and dressed, pausing a second to strike a flame. He had no need for light,
but he felt naked without a shadow trailing after him. Crossing the room, he
called for Crope, but impatience placed his hand upon the door, and he made his
way through the palace on his own.

Tawl refused to go
until he had bound Melli's splint properly to her arm. "I don't want to
risk it breaking during the escape," he said. With great tenderness, he
unwound the bandage and lifted off the wooden brace.

Jack took a sharp
intake of breath. Melli's forearm was badly disfigured; the bones met at a
slight angle and a lump had formed at the join.

"Who did this
to you?" asked Tawl.

Melli looked down.
"Kylock. The night I had my baby. It came early-two weeks before its
time." Melli's voice was so low Jack had to strain to hear the words.
"It was a boy. Baralis said it was a boy."

For an instant a
look of raw anguish flitted across Tawl's face. Just as quickly the expression
was gone, leaving only hard lines in its wake.

Jack leant forward
and kissed Melli's hand: there was nothing he could say to her to make up for
the loss of a child. As he straightened himself up, a sharp spasm ripped
through his stomach. Pressure in his temples blinded him for an instant. It's
just
the e
f
fects of the sword wound,
he told himself, trying hard
to mask the pain.

"Right,"
said Tawl, tying the ends of Melli's bandages together. "That should do it
until we get to the hideout. Borlin can see to it then." He forced his
face into a grim smile. "He's a genius with broken bones-he's caused
enough of them in his time."

Melli returned the
smile-probably just for Tawl's sake. "Are you all right to walk?"
asked Jack. His own pain had gone now, but a soft buzzing still sounded in his
head. She nodded. "I'm fine."

"Let's go,
then." Jack's mind was already moving ahead. He would go as far as the
passage entrance with Tawl and Melli, then strike off on his own. Kylock was
his priority now.

Tawl took Melli's
hand and they headed for the stairs behind him. They moved fast, anxious to get
back to Crayne, eager to be gone from the palace. Gaining momentum as they
traveled downward, they took the stairs two at a time, and by the time they
reached the bottom all three of them were out of breath.

Jack saw Crayne's
body before he smelled the sorcery.

He pushed back the
curtain and saw Crayne lying face-up in a pool of blood. He had no eyes, just
hollow sockets filled with blood. Hervo was sitting, slumped, against the wall.
His head was tipped forward, so Jack couldn't see his face, but a stream of
thick red mucus was dripping from his nose. His right fist was curled around an
arrow, and his bow lay to the left of him; the string still quivering.

Jack cursed his
own stupidity. This was what he felt before when he held Melli's hand. He
should have guessed. Should have known.

In the
quarter-second it took him to realize all this, Tawl and Melli emerged from the
staircase behind him and Baralis stepped out of the shadows in front.

Too late.
Jack
could taste the drawing on Baralis' lips. He could feel the power building.

Time slowed, then
thickened.

He heard a voice
screaming "GO!" and hardly recognized it as his own. He pushed
something soft with all his might-Tawl, Melli-he didn't know who, then dove in
the opposite direction. As he moved through the air his mind worked with his
gut to form a drawing. He could see Baralis' power now. See it coming for
him-scorching, crackling, dagger-smooth, dagger-sharp--blistering the air with
its hot metal fury.

Too late.
There
was no time, only hair-thin slices of seconds. Baralis had begun his drawing
before he'd reached the last step. A nauseating pulse swelled through Jack's
body.

The walls of his
stomach snatched shut. He felt himself falling. Up came his hands to break his
fall.

And then Baralis'
drawing hit him full-on. A sizzling pain ripped through him. His limbs, his
belly, and his face were slashed by scalding blades. His skin was slit open in
a thousand needle cuts and white-hot fire raced toward his heart. Jack's body
convulsed. A mighty spasm tore through his chest and then there was nothing
more.

Too late.

Tawl was racing
for Baralis when Jack went down. Melli in one hand, sword in the other, Tawl
tried to cross the distance between them. Still righting himself from Jack's
mighty push, Tawl's feet only had time to make three steps forward before the
drawing hit.

The air roiled,
whitened, then blasted into Jack. Tawl felt hot gusts whip over his face,
burning his skin, sucking the air from his lungs, blinding him like a glance
into the sun. There was a scintilla of an instant when he managed to step in
front of Melli, but she had already taken the front of the blast and her scream
was like a tear in his soul.

Jack was a moving
blaze of white light, his body convulsing on the floor, his limbs engulfed by
crackling fire. Then everything stopped.

There was a moment
of pure calm. Jack's body slumped against the stone flags. Baralis was a sliver
of darkness standing over it. Melli's head came to rest upon the back of Tawl's
shoulder. And Tawl, suddenly realizing that
the
hilt of his blade was
searing his palm, released his hold on the weapon. The sword clattered to the
floor, shattering the calm like a church bell at daybreak.

Baralis collapsed.
His body crumpled inward then downward and he landed in an angular heap, his
cloak spreading out around him like a black fan. A huge giant of a man came
running out of nowhere, sobbing and muttering to himself and shaking his head
wildly. He ignored Tawl and Melli and made straight for Baralis' side.

"Come on,
Tawl. Let's go," cried Melli.

Tawl went to pick
up his sword. He was going to finish off Baralis once and for all.

"No!"
screamed Melli. "Don't go near him. You don't know what he's capable
of-even now." She tugged at his arm, and Tawl turned around to look at
her. The skin on her face was red and wet, the result of the drawing. The fear
in her eyes was as raw as an exposed nerve. "Please, Tawl. Let's get out
of here while we can."

Shouts sounded in
the distance. Two armed guards came running down the far gallery, weapons held
out before them. Tawl picked up his blade. It was still hot, but no longer
burning. He glanced over to Jack's body-his chest wasn't moving, there was no
sign of life. Melli was right: they had to get away before half the palace
guards came after them. Jack couldn't be helped now.

It was so very
hard to turn away, though. The idea of carrying Jack's body back with him
flashed through Tawl's mind. Perhaps he wasn't dead, just very still.

"Tawl! The
guards!" Melli was frantic now. Blood and tears coated her cheeks. Her
whole body was trembling. The front of her dress was scorched black, and as she
pulled him forward, Tawl could see where the drawing had singed all the hairs
on her arm.

Tawl knew he had
to get Melli to safety. More than his oath, she was half the bargain he had
made with himself in the cold, green depths of Lake Ormon. Saving her was the
first part of saving himself.

There was no time
to carry a body. It would slow them down too much. The guards were nearly on
top of them, and by the sounds of things there were more on the way. Tawl
clasped hold of Melli's hand and they ran down the corridor, the guards chasing
after them.

Tears stung the
raw flesh of Tawl's cheeks as he ran. Hervo, Crayne, Jack: Baralis had taken
them all. Friends, brothers, good men who had followed him into danger with no
thought for themselves. Hervo and Crayne weren't on a quest, they weren't bound
by an ancient prophecy; they had
simply believed
in him. The image of
Crayne's eyeless body flickered across Tawl's thoughts. He felt a tight, angry
pain in his chest. What had Baralis done to him?

Anger burned into
rage and, as Tawl sped along the corridors with Melli at his side, he knew that
Baralis, Kylock, and Tyren all had to be destroyed.

The guards were
catching up. Any second now Tawl knew he would have to turn and fight. He could
take two men on his own, but he was afraid that Melli might be injured in the
fray. Tawl was just about to order her to run ahead, when, like a gift from the
gods, Andris appeared before him. The tall fair-haired knight had two other men
with him, their weapons were drawn, and after the briefest of acknowledgments,
they stepped in to cut down the guards at their heels.