The Red Knight (31 page)

Garian mouthed, “
One, two, three.”
On three they stepped into the room, picked their targets and let fly. Garian’s bolt struck the knight by the brazier in the back. The slender shaft snapped with a loud crack as it hit the steel cuirass she was wearing beneath her surcoat. The scullery maid fared little better. Her bolt struck one of the seated guards in the face, scoring a bloody gouge in his cheek before flying past and shattering against the wall.

The warrior roared, grabbed a mace off the table and jumped to his feet. Cursing, the other guard flung the table aside and snatched up an axe. Garian dropped the bow and drew his knife as the one he’d hit ran at him swinging a battle axe. The rest of the agents charged down the stairs.

The cook ran over to Garian and blocked the mercenary’s blow with her sword. The blade locked against the hook of the axe, but the mercenary was quick and twisted her weapon, pulling the cook off balance and within reach of the dagger she had in her offhand. Too late, Garian saw the blade. All he could do was shout a warning, unable to get at the mercenary because the cook had come between them. The mercenary ripped the blade up, into the cook’s stomach, two hard jabs that spilled her guts. The cook went down and died in a spreading pool of her own blood and entrails.

The mercenary stepped over the body and took a swing at Garian’s head with the axe, at the same time slashing at his stomach with the dagger. He jumped back; narrowly avoiding both attacks, but caught his heel on the bottom step and fell backwards. The mercenary had him. Garian watched the axe descend, but as she closed for the kill she slipped in the cook’s blood.

Garian seized his chance and rolled aside. The axe whistled down and struck chips of stone from the step where his head had been. He rolled back, and using his body weight to add strength to his arm, stabbed the knife into the unarmoured hollow of the mercenary’s knee. She howled in pain and fell forward, tearing the knife from his grasp. Before she had a chance to recover, he leapt on her back, grabbed her head, and smashed her face against the steps until she stopped moving.

Heart pounding, he turned to see how his comrades were faring. The pantry boy and the footman had one of the other mercenaries cornered. The wiry pantry boy was ferociously quick with the rapier he was using. He darted in and feigned an attack while the footman, who was armed with a poleaxe he’d taken from the rack, thrust at the mercenary’s body. There was a high-pitched screech of metal against metal, but the poleaxe failed to pierce the fluted breastplate. However the force of the blow slammed the mercenary against the wall, where the footman pinned him long enough for the pantry boy to step in and open his unprotected throat.

Across the other side of the room, one of the scullery maids went down with the side of her head smashed in. The other maid avenged her by stabbed her killer in the face, dropping him instantly.

As suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. The scullery maid tossed the sword she’d been using and positioned herself at the bottom of the stairs where she spanned and reloaded the crossbow. Garian searched the mercenaries. When he found the keys, he rushed to unlock the cells.

Roused by the sound of fighting, the prisoners were hammering on the doors, begging to be released. In the first cell he unlocked he was surprised to find a handful of Rusties. They all looked like they’d taken a beating. A grey-haired knight followed Garian to the next cell, while his comrades hunted for weapons.

“Is this a full-scale attack or a daring rescue?” he asked.

“It’s only us, I’m afraid.”

The knight sighed.

Garian unlocked the remaining cells; he was searching for one prisoner in particular, but it was so crowded he couldn’t find him.

He was starting to worry that he wasn’t there when a familiar figure barged out of the last cell.

“Are they safe?” Hyram demanded. The King’s Councillor had a black eye and his velvet robes were ripped and stained, but other than that he seemed his usual amiable self.

“You’re welcome, and yes it’s good to see you too, sir.”

“Don’t be glib, boy. Are they safe?”

“Yes…I think so.”

The Spymaster narrowed his eyes. “You only
think
so? This had better be bloody good.”

“It is. I’ll explain on the way out,” he said as he tried to usher his master over to the sewer entrance.

The scullery maid called over. “We’ve got company on the way, sir. I’d say several and armoured.”

Garian hoped Stenna had succeeded or this would be a very brief escape. “My Lord, if you could make your way down the stairs
now.
” Garian shouted over to the pantry boy who was holding the door to the sewers. “Fingal! Hurry up and get ’em down.”

He took a deep breath and tried to relax. Saving lives was as good a way to go as any, but it hurt to think he’d never see Suli again. Hurt worse than a knife in the gut. A little longer to think about it, and he had a feeling that it might not seem like such a good idea.

“Well, I must say, this is a poor rescue…” Hyram muttered, dagger in one hand, mace in the other. “Do you know how long it’s been since I tackled anything more dangerous than a mature cheese?”

“Asha’s paps. My Lord, you must go! We can hold them long enough for everyone to get out, but you have to leave now!” said Garian.

Hyram opened his mouth to protest when the grey-haired Rustie stepped forward.

“With all due respect, sir, the Fifth guards the royal residences. We’ll hold them for as long as we can, but I fear it may be little more than a gesture of defiance. The sewers are Ward locked. No mortal force can open them.”

Garian sighed. “How hard can it be? The Wards will be lifted. You can all escape; we’ll stay and cover you.”

The knight didn’t look convinced. “Well, I’m pleased to hear that, lad. Now go, and let us do our job. We’ll show this scum what real knights are, even Rusty ones.”

There was no point arguing, Garian threw up his hands. “Very well, I don’t have time for this. Lock the door behind us, and good luck.”

The knight raised the axe in salute. “Please tell our families; I’m Lieutenant Leo Ternis…” He pointed to the other five in turn “…Fredrick Ghentz, Luta Stornitz, Mishal Lumov, Kyrin Morrill and Kieran Delrich. Please tell them…” The old knight scratched his chin as he hunted for the right words. “Tell them we didn’t betray our oath.”

“You forgot me!” A young girl peered from behind Ternis, eyes bright with tears.

“I haven’t forgotten anything. This rascal is my squire, Gabriella Aldred. She’s in dire need of more training, so I’d be most grateful if you could take her with you.”

“No!” the girl protested. “I want to stay.”

“We need to hurry, sir,” called the footman, backing down the stairwell.

“Go now,” said the knight and pushed his squire towards Garian.

“I’ll tell them,” he said. He’d already forgotten their names, but the girl knew. Stenna would probably say something meaningful to the old warrior, something stirring. He had no words of comfort for those about to die, what was the point? The Rusty marshalled his people at the bottom of the stairs. Garian shouted for the remaining agents to fall back, and he set off towards the sewers, making sure his master was with him.

Hyram took the girl gently, but firmly by the arm and led her down into the darkness. “Did you know I once saw two Guthani Sea Drakes fighting during a thunderstorm?” Hyram’s voice echoed in the dank passageway. “Of course you don’t. Let me tell you what happened…”

To Garian’s great relief when he reached the bottom of the stairs he saw people filing through the open grate and into the murky waters of the castle sewers. Stenna must have reached the Prince. He had no way of knowing if they’d escaped, but at the moment he had more pressing concerns. Shouting erupted from above, swiftly followed by the clash of steel. He and the other agents hurried the prisoners along. When they were all through, he closed the grate. The huge locking clasp fastened over the bar beneath the water with a dull clang.

Chapter Ten

“Why are we bringing him with us?” said Thea, and cast a venomous glare at Corvinius as Alyda herded them along a narrow passageway.

“We might need him as a hostage, Majesty,” said Alyda, tied by etiquette to answer the Queen even though she was more concerned with getting them out than having a discussion about Corvinius. She’d decide what to do with the miserable bastard later. “I’ve arranged horses for us,” she said, hoping to change the subject. “They’ll be waiting near the water meadows.”

“How will we get out of the Arth?” Thea asked.

“Do you know the old boathouse? The one behind the orchard, next to the little chapel?”

“Of course, but it’s…ah, yes. Talin can lift the Ward on the gate.” Thea smiled for the first time since they had been freed. “I know a short cut to the chapel. It’s not a secret passage as such, but few people use it these days. Come—let me show you.”

The Queen set a brisk pace and led them down an even narrower passage to what looked like a dead end. She urged them on and into a cunningly hidden service corridor.

“I often come this way when I want to avoid people,” Thea confided.

The Queen’s knowledge was a surprising boon. Alyda had no idea the passage existed, and she knew the Arth reasonably well. She hoped Tain was sharing their good luck. She hadn’t heard any alarms, which was as close to a good sign as they were likely to get.

Candles flickered in niches set in the walls on the way to the chapel. Centuries ago, when the Arth had been a more modest fortress, this had been the only chapel to Ashania and Sestrian. Like the seed of a pearl, it was now hidden within the great fortress that had grown around it. Alyda listened at the ancient Wildwood doors until she was satisfied that it was empty.

They crowded into the modest chamber. Candlelight bathed the room in a warm glow and draped the sanctuary in deepening shades of amber. A row of simple wooden benches ran either side of a narrow central aisle. The stone floor was strewn with clean rushes and sweet scented herbs. It had been worn into softly undulating hollows from centuries of use. At one end of the room was an ancient altar stone on which were a pair of silver candle sticks shaped like the branching antlers of a stag. Alyda tipped a nod towards the altar. It didn’t hurt to hedge one’s bets and they still had a way to go before they were out.

“I wonder who lit the candles?” said Olin.

The door that led to the orchard was across the aisle, opposite the one they’d just used. While the others caught their breath, Alyda opened it a crack and stole a look outside. The only movement was the gentle sway of fruit laden branches. The sweet smell of apples made her stomach growl. After checking the wall was clear of patrols, she ushered the fugitives across the shadowed orchard.

When they were halfway across, a bell began to toll somewhere in the Arth. Thea froze; Alyda grabbed her wrist and ran her over to the boathouse gate that was set in the curtain wall. Talin shoved Corvinius in front of him; Olin hitched up his robe and ran ahead of them all. They flattened against the wall, hardly daring to breathe.

Alyda quickly realised that it wasn’t the Ward, just a mundane alarm bell, but an alarm nonetheless. The walkway above them remained clear, and there weren’t any sounds of pursuit coming towards them from the Arth or the chapel. It didn’t mean they were safe; the bodies in the Queen’s apartments might have been found, or perhaps Tain had been caught. Either way, the Arth was on alert and they had to get out now. Alyda took hold of Corvinius, while Talin commanded the Ward to unlock the gate.

“You’ll never make it,” Corvinius whispered. Even in the darkness she could tell he was smiling.

“You should be grateful that I brought you with us. The Guthani wouldn’t thank you for losing the Queen.”

He leaned closer. “And how would you like me to show my gratitude?”

She drew Tain’s knife from her boot. “By shutting up or dropping dead, either will do.”

Flaking warts of rust crusted the gate’s hinges, but when Talin addressed the Ward and tugged the metal bars, it swung open easily. Once they were all inside, he pulled it closed and it locked in place with a hollow clang. He asked the Ward to make sure it stayed that way.

The rotted decking was beyond any magic he could invoke. Spongy and threadbare, the planks were slippery with fungus and spattered with bird droppings. The pale ghost of a sunken row boat lay just beneath the waterline, and starlight shone through the pockmarked roof.

The building looked like it was about to slide into the Wey, but the gate would hold out against an army if the legends about the Wards were true. Talin didn’t find the knowledge particularly comforting. Right then he’d kill for a ball of Pel.

“Over here,” said Alyda and proceeded to pull off some panelling on the side of the boathouse. Although she was being as quiet as she could, the noise of straining wood sounded horribly loud.

“Why are we going this way?” his mother asked her. Talin was pleased that she sounded more like her usual assured self.

“By working our way along the curtain wall we’ll avoid having to swim the Wey, Majesty. It’ll take a little longer to reach the water meadows, but I think it’s our best chance of getting away without being seen.”