The Red Knight (28 page)

She casually adjusted her belt, bringing her sword hilt within easier reach. Her escort didn’t seem concerned that the streets were empty or that unliveried warriors were hanging around. On the contrary, their jovial banter was a lively accompaniment to the clatter of hooves on the cobbles. Alyda had seen enough. She rode up to Endis and pulled across him, forcing his horse to stop.

“Alright, what’s going on, Endis?” she demanded. “Who are those soldiers? Where is everyone?”

“Ah, yes, I forgot to mention. There was an outbreak of swamp fever. The King drafted in some mercenary companies to keep the peace…people were starting to panic. It’s nothing to worry about; there weren’t many fatalities up until we left.”

“And you forgot to mention this? Have
you
come down with fever, Endis?”

His mouth twisted into a sneer. “It slipped my mind. I was more concerned with bringing our beloved Prince safely back to the city, like I’d been ordered. Of course, I’m sure you find that hard to believe of a
Rusty
.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder.

Alyda went cold. “It seems I’m not mad after all,” she said.

“W…what d’you mean?” A bead of sweat ran down Endis’s forehead.

She ducked and half drew her sword, smashing the pommel into his face. A moment later, the world exploded in a blinding burst of light.

Talin could tell something was bothering Alyda. Her face had been set like stone for most of the journey, and the only time she’d spoken since they’d left Kellimarsh was to question Endis. The Lieutenant was an amicable fellow, more than willing to look the other way when Talin and his friends wanted to sneak in or out of the palace, but he didn’t seem himself today. He looked nervous and on edge, and spent most of the time trying to avoid Alyda. He didn’t blame him; she wasn’t exactly hiding her contempt for the poor fellow. When they were nearing the Arth she pulled Endis over. The escort came to a halt, Dervla rode up beside him. She also looked worried.

“I’m very sorry, Highness,” she said.

“For what…?”

If she answered he didn’t hear her because right at that moment, Alyda smashed her sword into Endis’s face. The Lieutenant rocked back in his saddle, blood pouring from his nose. Before her sword cleared the scabbard, a knight came up behind her and hammered a punch into the back of her head. She wasn’t wearing her helmet and the blow felled her instantly. She slid from the saddle. Nua reared and danced away from her fallen rider, the other horses nearby shied. Talin spat a curse and reached for his sword, which was when he noticed that Dervla was holding a knife on him.

“Please—I don’t want to kill you,” she mumbled, waving the knife in her shaking hand.

Without hesitation, Talin straight-armed her out of the saddle. The knife flew from her hand, and she grasped ropes of air before vanishing over the side of her horse. Furious, he drew his sword and spurred his mount over to Alyda, but a group of Rusties cut him off before he could reach her. Outnumbered, he was quickly overwhelmed and dragged from his mount. He lashed out with his sword—kicked, punched; even bit, but eventually he was taken to the ground and disarmed.

Cursing, Endis swatted away assistance and stormed over to Alyda, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. He kicked her in the stomach. Talin heard her groan; she was alive at least.

“Fucking, cunt!” Endis spat.

“Don’t you touch her!” Talin roared, earning himself a punch in the face.

“Get him on his feet and tie him up,” Endis ordered.

When Talin was securely bound, the Lieutenant marched over and squared up to him. “Don’t try and order me,
Highness.
I no longer serve you, or your bastard father. D’you hear me?”

“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you.” Talin didn’t shout, but pushed enough murderous anger into his voice that Endis backed away.

“I’ll do what I fucking please.” Endis sneered. “Like you and that fat slut used to; whoring and drinking your way around Weyhithe while we had to guard you! Oath-sworn knights, treated like fucking nursemaids and never so much as a nod of thanks. You make me sick. I’ll dance a jig when the Guthani—”

“Shut up, you fool,” Dervla hissed. She glared at Talin and limped towards him, knife in hand. He wondered what being stabbed would feel like and braced himself to find out.

She didn’t stab him; she slapped him across the face. It stung, but it was better than a knife in the guts.

“I owe you that,” she said and turned to the knights clustered around Alyda. “Take her to the Captain. You two—” she flicked the tip of the knife at two of the Rusties. “—take the Prince to his mother’s quarters. He gets there in one piece, or else you’ll answer to Corvinius. Same goes for her, got that?”

The knights did as they were bid.

Endis spluttered angrily. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Who the fuck died and left you in charge?”

“You did,” said Dervla. Her arm jabbed forward, once, twice…three times.

Endis gasped. A fat gob of blood splashed on his boot. Dervla stepped back, the bloody blade grasped tightly in her shaking hand. The Lieutenant sank to the cobbles, clutching at the mass of quivering guts that were spilling from under his breastplate. Dervla looked at Talin like she’d just been damned to the Void.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snarled at him. “More than a few of your ancestors earned their crowns doing worse.”

Talin didn’t answer. There was no arguing with an unsheathed blade.

She was lying on smooth stone, not cobbles, so she knew she wasn’t in the road. She tried to move and discovered that her hands were bound behind her back. Her head was pounding so hard that her eyes hurt. Reluctantly, she forced them open.

A blinding pain knifed into her skull. When she could see past the tiny explosions of light, she saw that she was in the Council Chamber in Weyhithe Arth. The painful brightness was flooding through a ragged hole in the wall where the Rainbow Window should have been. Squinting against the glare, she tried to sit up. A wave of nausea swept over her, she fell back.

“Brawling in the street, Captain Stenna? Whatever happened to the fabled Guards’ discipline?” It was Corvinius.

The Captain of the 5th was sprawled across the King’s throne, surrounded by smashed bottles and broken glass from the window. Now that she looked she could see that the whole chamber was splattered with wine and blood, it also stank like a latrine. The moment she laid eyes on him all the little things that had bothered her since she’d received the King’s letter made horrible sense. She would not have believed it possible, but she couldn’t deny the evidence before her. Corvinius, an oath-sworn Captain of the Royal Guards, had turned traitor.
I almost wish I was insane.

He was holding her sword. When he saw that she’d noticed, he grinned and tossed it to one of the Rusties who were standing near the throne. He gestured to Alyda with a curt nod. The Rusty stalked over to her and raised the blade above his head in a two-handed grip. Alyda fixed her gaze on Corvinius.

“No, you idiot, cut the rope!” Corvinius shouted before the blade fell. “You lot are a fucking embarrassment, you really are,” he said.

The Rusty muttered something under his breath and cut the rope binding her wrists.

She sat up carefully; certain her skull would shatter if she moved too quickly. The knight backed away. She had a sly look around the chamber as she rubbed feeling back into her hands. She counted six Rusties in all. Five of them held crossbows, all levelled at her. She should have seen this. Somehow, she should have known. The Captain of the Hammer, scourge of the Brotherhood of the Redemption, had been fooled by a drunken game cock. Worse, she’d delivered the man she loved into danger, possibly death. Gods only knew what had happened to Talin and his family. She got up slowly, very aware of taut bow strings and the itchiness of fingers.

“What have you done with the Prince? You treacherous fa’cachta.”

Corvinius laughed. “Tamalak is such an expressive language. Don’t worry ‘Lyda, His Royal Spoiltness is alive and well with his mother and brother.”

“And the King?” she demanded.

“So many questions! Anyone would think I was the prisoner. Lucky for you, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll indulge your curiosity. The King is riding to his death as we speak. I promise you’ll be the first to know when his head is taken.

“How could you turn traitor? Do you even know what you’ve done, Rufus?”

“Oh, ‘Lyda, you say the word ‘traitor’ as though it was worse than Void sorcery. All I’ve done is change allegiance. I haven’t sold my soul to a demon, or feasted on the flesh of babes. I’ve swapped one master for another. Ack! You wouldn’t understand. You get to ride off and play hero while I’m left to rot in this dump.”

“I don’t call fighting for my King and country
‘playing’
and neither would any of those ancestors you’re always bragging about.”

Corvinius smiled. “Talk of ancestry is so amusing coming from a half-breed gypsy.”

“Better half-breed than in-bred if you’re what comes of a family fucking each other for centuries.”

Corvinius clapped. “That’s my ‘Lyda! Always so erudite. Now shut up and listen. I didn’t bring you here to fight with you.”

“You broke your oath.” Spots of light danced before her eyes.

“It’s nothing more than a chain around my neck—around your neck. A gilded leash to keep the fiercest hounds in check, and have no doubt, that’s all we are to them. If only you could see it, but you’ve been blinded by their lies. The myth of the hero, oath-sworn and honourable…it’s a fantasy. Wrap it up in as much braid as you like; you’re a killer, nothing more.”

He snatched up a bottle and took a careless swig before tossing it across the room. It smashed, splattering red wine across the once pristine, white marble floor. She could hardly stand to look at him.

Corvinius strutted unsteadily before the throne, evidently enjoying playing to his captive audience of one. “Oh, I wish I could tell you that I’ve heard the call of destiny. I’m sure that would appeal to your naïve sense of drama, but I’m afraid my reasons for…
resigning my commission,
are terribly mundane. I want power and wealth. I want what they have. You wouldn’t believe how much the Guthani and Prince Jerim are paying me, or what they’ve promised.”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t enough,” she said.

“You think? Come now, does it really matter which prince rules Antia? They’re both whelps of the same bitch.” He laughed. “If only you could see your face; eyes blazing with righteous indignation.” He stopped laughing. “Don’t you
dare
judge me, Captain Stenna. Hate me by all means, but do not presume to judge me. In fact, you should be grateful to me. Because of my plan,
mine!
the lives of hundreds, nay,
thousands
of good Antian subjects have been saved. Do you know why?”

“Pray, enlighten me.”

“When Daris finds out his beloved family have been captured he’ll roll over like a whipped cur and beg Jerim to take the crown—anything to save them.”

He staggered over and draped his arm across her shoulders. Her blood ran cold, she clenched her fists. The nearest Rusty saw her stiffen and raised his crossbow. Alyda relaxed. Not even a Rusty could miss from less than twelve feet away.

“I’ve missed you, ‘Lyda,” Corvinius slurred.

She shrugged him off. “I haven’t missed you.”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “I have the keys to the kingdom!” he bellowed into the vault. “When the Guthani arrive on the ‘morrow and drag that bitch and her get to Cathlan it will all be over, and I will have won! Me!” The echo of his treacherous confession reverberated around the chamber. It was an ugly sound.

“Have you got the guts to kill me, Rufus? Or will you get the Guthani to do it for you? You’ve never been one for getting your hands dirty. Despite all the whining, you’ve no stomach for bloodletting.”

Half a dozen emotions flitted across his face before he shook his head, defeated. “I don’t want to kill you, ‘Lyda,” he groaned. “Why do you think I sent orders for you to come back with the Prince?”

“Because you missed me?” she offered.

“Yes, damn you. I’ve missed you from the moment you left Weyhithe after the parade. That’s when I knew I wanted you. I don’t even care who your family are, or where you come from: I want you, ‘Lyda.”

“I’m touched. But is this really the time to discuss our failed relationship, given that you’re trying to destroy the kingdom?”

Corvinius’s face darkened. Bow strings creaked ominously. She was about to find out if she’d pushed him too far. He rounded on her. She braced for the bowshot, but it didn’t come.

“If I want to talk about it, I fucking will. I’m in charge now! Not Daris, not Thea—me!” His expression suddenly changed from furious to confused. He turned away. If she didn’t know better she would have said he was feeling guilty, or it could be that he’d lost his mind, in which case she was entirely fucked.

He paced, idly kicking at the broken glass scattered across the floor. “I know it’s my fault, ‘Lyda, I didn’t give you the slightest hint that I cared. In truth, until you left last time I didn’t think I did, but I know now. Jerim has promised me governorship of Tamalan. You can rule there with me as my Queen. Think of it; a Tamalak Queen in the Ice Halls after centuries of Antian rule. The people would rejoice.”