Shadow's Son (38 page)

"I will bow to no usurper!" he shouted in a powerful voice that belied
his age. "I would rather die."

Ral made a shooing gesture with one hand. "And I shall gladly grant
your wish, my lord."

The old lord sputtered and coughed as the Brothers dragged him
from the hall.

Mystified, Caim went to retrieve the bundles. When he grasped the
sword's worn hilt, a voice whispered in his head. He knew it well. He'd
heard it in his dreams a thousand times. The voice of his father's ghost.

"Justice ... "

Calm's hand shook. He wanted to throw away the blade, but a powerful force held him back. He shook his head, as much to deny the unease
churning inside him as to clear it, and slung the sword onto his back. He
carried the second bundle to the balcony, cut the strings binding its oil skin covering, and unlimbered his other gift from Hubert: the curved
bronzewood shaft of a bow to replace the one he'd lost in the fire.

Caim strung the weapon with quick, sure motions. As he stood up,
he placed an arrow across the rest and drew the string to full tension. The
confusing maelstrom of emotions roiling in his chest-for Josey, for his
father, for Kit's disappearance-they all vanished as he sighted on the
throne. He was back in his element. This was business, pure and
uncomplicated.

Caim took in a deep breath, and let it out slow and steady. In the
space between one breath and the next, he fired.

The bowstring thrummed against his forearm as the arrow flew. He
followed its path across the hall. A perfect shot. In his mind's eye, Ral
slumped dead on the throne, his eyes turned misty with the fog of death.
The image was so real he almost believed it had already happened, until
the torchlight surrounding the dais flickered and the arrow dipped to the
side, not much, just a hand's breadth, but enough to miss its mark.
Instead of taking Ral through the throat, it sliced a furrow across the
sleeve of his jacket.

The hairs on the back of Calm's neck tingled as he remembered
another night, in Ostergoth's castle, and another perfect shot ruined at the
last moment. Sorcery. His hands tightened around the stave of the bow.

Levictus.

Everyone in the hall looked up. Josey's eyes blossomed wide. The
lordlings lurched to their feet and retreated from the dais. Their mutterings swirled up to
Caim. Some of the Brothers drew weapons, but none
moved to protect their liege. As for Ral, he hardly moved except to grimace and press his left hand against his chest.

Caim snatched another arrow from the bundle at his feet. Sweat
drenched his shirt. Tremors chased each other through his stomach like a
pack of angry dogs. But his hands were steady.

"Let her go, Ral!" he shouted. "Or the next one goes through your heart."

The assassin's dry chuckle ascended to the gallery. "We've been
expecting you, Caim, but you're a bit late. Release my betrothed? No, I
don't believe I will. The city is mine, and these good nobles were just
swearing their loyalty to me. It would go better if you laid down your
weapons and surrendered. Perhaps I'll grant you an imperial pardon."

"I don't think so. There are five thousand angry citizens outside the
gates. Your pet soldiers won't be able to hold them off forever."

Ral stood with his hands at his sides, seemingly at rest, but
Caim
knew how fast the man could move. He kept the arrow centered on Ral's
chest.

"Not forever. Just until reinforcements arrive from the outer garrisons. Then your little rebellion will be crushed in time for my coronation and subsequent wedding to this fine lady."

Calm's gaze flickered to Josey, and fingers of dread closed around his
heart. In concentrating on Ral, he hadn't noticed Markus's arrival. Bandages peeked over the collar of the man's uniform, which was now white
instead of red. Waxy scars dimpled his face as he stood behind Josey, one
arm around her waist and the other holding a dirk to her slender throat.

"You should have joined me," Ral said. "You could have been my
viceroy, a man of wealth and power, but you have proved too untrustworthy. I'm afraid you'll have to die."

He nodded to Markus. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to watch her bleed to
death before your eyes first?"

Caim pulled the bowstring back another inch, making the bronzewood creak. "You won't kill her. You need her too much."

"Are you certain about that?"

Ral lifted a finger. Josey gasped as a line of blood trickled down her
neck. Markus's burn-scarred lips curved upward in a grin.

Caim cursed under his breath. His plan was falling apart. Rather than
rescuing Josey, he had placed her in even greater danger. Retreat wasn't
an option. Come morning, Ral's hold over the city might be impregnable.
He could shoot, but Markus might kill Josey out of hand. They were at
an impasse, and he was out of options. The string strained against his
fingers.

The clack of boots on the marble flagstones stole everyone's attention.
All heads turned as a soldier in militia livery dashed into the audience
hall. An angry clamor followed in his wake. Ral took the opportunity to
descend a couple of steps. Calm's aim didn't waver.

"The outer gates have fallen!" the militiaman shouted.

Ral swore a vile oath. "What of the bailey?"

"We hold it yet, but it may not stand for long."

Caim smiled. "Looks like your plot is unraveling around you, Ral.
Maybe you should give up now and save everyone the trouble."

As Ral opened his mouth to speak, a metallic twang pricked at Calm's
ears. He threw himself aside as the baluster before him shattered in a
shower of marble shrapnel. Caim reaimed and let fly. The arrow sped like
a diving falcon, but Ral ducked behind a powdered dowager. The missile
passed over their shoulders to thud into the leg of the vacated throne.

Caim reached for another arrow, but Ral was already darting across
the crowded hall. He threw down the bow and vaulted over the broken
balustrade. His knives cleared their sheaths before he hit the floor. Heels
stinging from the impact, he raced after his adversary.

"Caim!" Josey screamed as Ral and Markus hustled her through a side
exit and slammed the door behind them. Three Brothers took up positions in front of the exit with weapons bared.

Caim smiled as a familiar feeling spread through him, a tingling that
started in the tips of his fingers and vibrated up his arms until it coursed
through his entire being. Sparks of light glimmered on weapon points
and flashed from rings of mail, igniting his blood. An insistent pressure
throbbed behind his breastbone as his powers awakened, but this time he
welcomed it like a long-lost brother. It was time to put aside the veneer
of civilization and revel in pure barbarity.

With a snarl, he launched himself at the soldiers.

osey's breath rushed from her lungs in a gasp as she thrust out her
hands to cushion the impact with the wall.

Ral didn't give her time to recuperate before he dragged her along the
candlelit hallway, raving as he devoured the passage in long strides. "This
doesn't change anything! One madman can't change the course of history."

Josey was too jubilant to care what Ral said. Ever since her assault at
the cabin, she had been terrified to discover what Ral and Markus would do
next. But when she'd seen Caim in the Grand Hall, her heart had jumped.
He had come for her! She looked around for some means to get away from
her captors, but there wasn't much hope of that. Ral was much stronger
than he looked, and Markus followed them with a squad of Sacred Brothers.

She was racking her brain for a plan when the corridor opened into a
wide anteroom. Display stands and trophy cases crowded the floor. A
menagerie of stuffed animal heads on the walls seemed to watch as Ral
hustled her through.

"We'll go north," he said. "Assurances have been given. Whatever else
they take, I'm to have the capital. I've done my part. Then, after the city's
been tamed, I will return to begin my reign. He'll see who's the better man!"

"You sound frightened." Josey couldn't help herself from taunting
him, trying to hurt him as she had been hurt. She didn't know whom he
meant by "they," but she hardly cared anymore. She was tired of being
yanked back and forth between hands like some tawdry carnival prize.
"You should be. Calm's not going to show you any mercy."

"He had his chance two nights ago and fled like the coward he is."

Despite his bluster, Josey didn't believe a word of it.
Caim was like a
force of nature, as unstoppable as the tide. However, if Ral could get outside the city, he might be able to take her beyond Calm's reach.

Ral stopped on the other side of the trophy room and pointed to one
of the sergeants. "You come with me. The rest of you wait here." Then to
Markus, "Do whatever it takes, but stop him. When I return, you'll have
everything I promised, lands and title."

Markus glanced at Josey, his scarred face rigid with tight lines.
Clearly, he wanted to object, but he merely nodded. "He won't get past
us. Phebus speed your journey and hasten your return. My liege."

With the barest nod, Ral dragged Josey along. He thrust her down
another corridor. She looked around for something, anything, to slow
their progress. She dragged her heels, only to have Ral tighten his grip to
a painful, viselike clamp and pull her all the faster. She scratched his hand
and received a slap across the face.

When they passed a steep flight of stairs, Josey bit down hard on Ral's
knuckles. Blood filled her mouth as the skin split beneath her teeth. An
unholy screech erupted from Ral. He shoved her away. Josey kicked off
her slippers and dashed up the steps. The hard stamp of boots pounded
close behind.

The staircase turned back on itself twice before letting out in a narrow
passageway of bare stone. Josey hiked up her skirt and ran. She passed a
bas-relief carving on the wall depicting a regal griffon in the same style as
the design on the cellar floor at the earl's manor. The floor was caked with
thick dust. Cobwebs drooped from the ceiling. She needed someplace to
hide. She turned a corner and ran past several closed doors. She grabbed
at their handles, but they were all locked. Her breath burned in the back
of her throat as she came to another flight of steps. Josey rushed up them
without a pause.

The stairs rose on and on above her in a dizzying tunnel of steps and
railings. As she rounded a heavy stone newel post, a sinewy hand grasped
her ankle and wrenched her to a standstill. She kicked and clawed. They
had molested and abused her, killed her foster father and oppressed her
people. She would not give in! But the grip wouldn't let go. Ral pulled
himself up her body, crawling over her in a disturbing imitation of a
lover's ardor. She didn't see his other hand until it smashed into her cheek.
The buffet knocked her against a wall and scattered her senses. She
slumped, hardly aware as he draped her over his shoulder.

Josey struggled to keep her eyes open even as a gray blankness threat ened to overtake her. She was swung around several times, then carried
down some stairs and through a winding passageway. Ral's shoulder
ground against her stomach, making her want to throw up. It was over.
She had lost. Now Caim would never find them.

Then, a gust of freezing wind blew up her dress. Raindrops splattered
on her back. Josey shivered despite her fogginess. When she lifted her
head, she saw not the pavers of the outer courtyard she expected, but
sloping gray tiles. They were on the roof, of a side wing by the look of it.
The bailey wall loomed in the darkness like the spiked back of a slumbering monster. Torch fires blazed beyond the rampart, where a great mass
of people swarmed. Flashes of steel and iron. No sounds reached her
between gusts of wind, but she imagined the cries of pain and death.

Ral came to the end of the roof and stood at the edge of the abyss.
There was nowhere to go. Cursing, he turned back, but something gave
him pause. He set her down and drew his sword, pressing the tip against
her back.

"Don't move a hair on that pretty head, Princess," he breathed into
her ear. "I wouldn't want you to fall to your death."

Josey swayed in his grip. The tiles were ice cold under her feet. The
rain saturated her sodden gown to penetrate her undergarments. At a nod
from Ral, the sergeant took a position behind the door back into the
palace and lifted a black-headed mace with wicked flanges.
They're waiting
for someone to come through the doorway.

Talons of fear constricted around her throat.
Caim!

Josey tried to wriggle free, but Ral tightened his grip and jabbed her
with the sword point. Blinking back raindrops, she watched the open
door with growing trepidation.