Samual (13 page)

They had not been married long before Heri had struck and before that they had only courted for a year. But she had become his world in that time.

“Come.” Sam lowered a section of the fire wall and held out his hand for her, but for some reason she didn't move. It was then that he finally noticed the dagger to her throat, and the way her arm was being cruelly forced behind her back by the guard. It took a few heart beats to restrain himself enough not to strike the man dead where he stood for such insolence. But he reminded himself; the man was only being loyal to his king. A virtue not an evil, even when the king was Heri.

“Soldier. I have already said I will release Heri unharmed. Unlike my verminous half-brother, I have always been a man of my word. My honour as a knight of Hanor. As the true son of King Eric Hanor. Let her go, and you may have this miserable worm back.”

“But I don't want him back.”

Finally enough of the guard's face emerged from behind Ryshal that he could see him. He was no guard. His shield bore a pair of snakes entwined with a sword, the insignia of the Fallbright house, and his armour, not just the breastplate, was inlaid with silver and gold etchings. He had to be one of the lords of that house.

“I want him dead.”

Sam, caught by surprise, was spared having to say anything by Heri, who suddenly screamed at his guards to arrest the traitor. He had seen his hope of survival arrive in the form of Ryshal, and suddenly he was terrified that it was leaving him again in the form of a coup.

About half the guards suddenly grabbed their weapons and started moving toward the traitor, while a dozen new soldiers from the Barony of Fallbright suddenly entered the room, weapons already drawn. They brought with them a half dozen more of the keep's own guards, all fully dressed for battle. The rest of the guards just stood there, plainly wondering what to do, while the archers held their ground, bows at the ready, and wondered who to kill. It was a coup.

Everything stopped for the longest while, as everyone in the room stared at everybody else, wondering who was friend and who was foe. No one was willing to start anything, lest they get caught on the wrong side or be stabbed in the back by their former comrades. Lest they have to fight their friends, or die at their hands. The silence was complete as no one dared make a sound. And the murderous tableau held for what felt like a lifetime as the silence stretched.

Meanwhile the wheels were turning in Sam's head as he started putting the miracle of Ry's survival together with the report of her death and the Fallbright coup, and saw the entire picture. It came as a revelation to see just how badly the wheels of power and politics had turned in Heri's kingdom. But Sam couldn't allow that to distract him. He couldn't hesitate any longer. He had to take the initiative or risk losing it all. He was too close now to having everything he wanted in his grasp, to let it be lost in a pitched battle.

“Well, well, well little brother. It looks like all is not well in Fair Fields, and while you have been spending all your time and effort hunting and fearing me, those of your enemies a little closer to home have seen their chance to stick the knife in.”

He mocked Heri with his words, and yet for once he heard nothing of complaint or disagreement from him. He was too frightened. All eyes were suddenly back on Sam as if he was a great leader. He was no such thing, but he knew he held the floor. With so many undecided men in the room, and a wizard capable of destroying them all in a heartbeat in their midst, they would listen, hoping he had a way out for them.

“And you young Lord of Fallbright. I take it you were the one who sent the messenger to Ryshal's parents saying that she was dead. You arranged the grave for them to visit. You hoped that they would find me and that I would kill Heri in my rage. A cunning plan, if a little dishonourable.”

Not to mention rather flawed given that it hadn't come off, but he didn't say it aloud. The young Lord of Fallbright – assuming that was who he was – nodded in agreement. He even had the gall to smile; Sam could clearly see his white teeth showing through the slits in his visor. He still thought his plan was working. Foolish man.

“Then again you just might yet get your wish anyway.” He heard Heri gulp behind him. “Because if you do murder Ryshal I will kill him – and you with him. But you will have the privilege of hearing Heri scream like a girl at least a hundred times, as he in turn will have the same of you, before you both make it all the way to the pits of the fiery underworld and the great beast sups on your bones. That is the only mercy I will grant either of you.”

The smile vanished as if it had never been as the would be king finally understood he had outplayed his hand.

“But I -”

“Are equally responsible foul brother. You captured her, locked her up and chained her. You starved and abused her, and then allowed her to be used as a pawn by your enemies. I will not forgive you this evil; ever. Nor will I forgive your would be usurper. My mind is made up. You will both die together in flaming agony, and there's nothing either of you can do about it. Nothing all your soldiers can do, since they will all be dead in the first heartbeat. Nothing your wealth can buy since I will loot anything I want from your rotting corpses. And nothing your families can even beg for, since they will all be dead too shortly after.”

As he told them that, Sam was staring directly at the newcomer, and for the first time he got a look at the eyes of the young lord. He watched them widen in fear, and knew he was making his point to him as well. The young Fallbright was attempting to take the throne. He wanted power, but he wasn't willing to die for it. Least of all in screaming agony. Just like Heri. He wanted power at all costs – as long as he didn't have to pay them.

“Or, I can spare you.” Suddenly all eyes were riveted to him. “I can change things for you both. I can be merciful, or I can be the evil one himself.”

“Kill my beloved and I can assure you, you will die in screaming torment. Both of you. And after that I will go on to destroy your families and friends as you've destroyed mine. I will make sure that they know why they are suffering such horrible deaths. I can't make any promises of course, but I will certainly try to ensure that they will die cursing your names. Praying neither of you had ever been born.”

And that for any Fair Fielder was the ultimate curse. Most believed that people so cursed had their souls shrivel up inside them even before they died, and that when they did finally leave the world, the demons would sup on their flesh for eternity. True or not, they would not risk suffering that fate.

“Or you can let her go and take your chances with your swords against each other. I will even give you that option. The chance for each of you disreputable worms to salvage at least a fraction of honour in front of these good soldiers. A duel. A fight to the death. Man to man. I would spare your soldiers a flaming death. Likewise your families and loved ones. I will give both of you a chance of victory. A chance to be king by your own hand, or at least to die quickly. Against me you have no chance of any of those things. No more do your guards or your families.”

It was a telling point. He was by far the most powerful man in the room, and both of them had suddenly realised they were outmatched. Later, if either survived, they might come to regret their decision to take him on. For the moment they just wanted to live.

“And at least it's honest. Both of you will be given the chance to take or keep the throne on your own merits, instead of trying to twist myself and others to your ends. And really Fallbright, with all these people present did you really think that using me to kill Heri would somehow leave your hands clean? Now everybody knows. It's too late for that plan. You have been exposed as a foul schemer just like Heri. Are you a coward like him as well? And if you can't face a wounded coward on your own, what true man would ever follow you anyway?”

Sam watched the faces of the soldiers, all of them in fact on both sides, staring at one another and silently asking the same question.

That was one of the major obstacles Heri had faced in becoming and remaining king. Unlike their father he was a coward and a betrayer and known for both. His men did not respect him. He overcame it by sheer cunning and absolute ruthlessness, ensuring their loyalty by other means. And by the looks of things, this newcomer would have to face those same obstacles and use the same techniques himself.

“Your word?” The newcomer had made his decision quickly, not that he truly had a choice. He had foolishly overplayed his hand in his childish ambition, hoping only that Sam's uncontrollable fury would do what he couldn't. But when it hadn't and he had seen Sam's strength first hand, he had discovered his mistake, and seen death approaching on swift wings. Someone he most desperately didn't want to meet. Besides, he had seen his soldier's doubts about him as well, and he had to restore their confidence. He figured it would be easy. He was a skilled swordsman, Heri a wounded coward, and he just wanted to make a show of his valour. Therefore he accepted the right of combat as his chance to seize the throne rightfully.

“My word.” Sam nodded, while somewhere behind him Heri spluttered with fear as he saw himself being skewered by his rival shortly. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

On cue, the newcomer removed his dagger from Ryshal's throat and stepped back into his soldier's waiting clutches, pretending honour. It was all Sam had ever wanted as he fully opened the doorway in his wall and Ryshal stepped through. For once, no one tried to shoot him, and he closed the door a heartbeat after she was inside. She was safe and he would never let her go again.

“I knew you would come for me. The Goddess promised me.” Ryshal smiled at him. But she looked frighteningly weak as she crossed the last few feet between them.

“I have prepared for this day with every hour that has passed. I'm sorry it took me so long.” Sam reached down for her and she raised her arms to him. Finally, they touched. Fingers intertwined. For the longest time he did nothing but hold her in his arms after he lifted her so terribly slight frame into his saddle and kissed her. It had been so long, and he wasn't at all surprised to find tears in his eyes. For an age he did nothing but hold her tight, overwhelmed with emotion. Love, pain, relief, anger, hatred and joy. All of them were coursing through him at once. It was all he could do to keep the flame shield alight and not simply burst into tears. Yet his training came back to him, held him secure even in the midst of such overpowering emotion and kept them both safe for as long as they needed.

Eventually he heard coughing and returned to the world. He turned to see Heri standing there, still pinned between the flaming sword and the fire wall behind him. Without a second thought Sam opened a window in the wall behind him, and watched Heri scuttle back into his own guards' waiting clutches. A moment later, the wall was intact again, and Sam began guiding Tyla out of the chamber, while all around guards scattered as the fire shield approached.

“You can't leave me here like this! Kill him!”

Incredibly Sam heard his brother barking orders at him as if he was one of his servants. His half-brother actually thought Sam would help him! Not for the first time he wondered at his sanity. Sam did turn back though, briefly, if only to make sure he had actually said it.

Heri must have seen the look in his eyes, as he suddenly turned white again. At least he had the sense to finally be quiet.

“For the creator's sake, somebody get the toad a sword and some armour and then let these two finally do their own dirty work instead of using others for their twisted ends.” At least a dozen heads nodded on cue, and he watched them jump on a young guard and then start stripping him down. At least someone was willing to listen to him. But then he realised, they knew he was still the power in the room, and they didn't want to risk offending him. Ever. In that at least they had more sense than their masters.

“Oh, and before I forget –” he turned back to the Fallbright Lord who had finally removed his helm as he prepared for a duel. It was Harmion Fallbright as he'd expected, the youngest of the three sons. The one they called the weasel. But not to his face. He had a reputation for vengeance, cruelty and cunning, not to mention attacking from behind.

“A little thank you from me. You dared to place a dagger against my wife's throat and use her as a bargaining chip against me. You caused her parents the most terrible pain by telling them she was dead.” Even as Harmion opened his mouth to object or argue, he saw the anger in Sam's eyes, and then cried out as Sam sent a sliver of fire to him and cut off the fingers of his leading hand.