The Sorcerer's Scourge (21 page)

The blow never landed as one of the guards rushed forward and hewed the assassin down with a powerful stroke to his unarmored neck. Two more lay dead amongst the guards inside the room, cut down when they drew steel on their fellows with the intent of finishing the assassin’s job. Annette pulled a dagger from a sheath at the dead man’s waist and pointed it at her rescuer.

“You, do not leave my side! Can you trust these other men?” she asked, having seen only the one that had so far proven himself loyal.

The guard took only a moment to process the Queen’s reaction and question before turning to face the other seven men in the room. “I know five of them well, Majesty, and trust them with my life. The other two I know only marginally.”

“I can vouch for guardsman Clemm and Woodred, Highness,” another guard told her.

 “Very well. Is there another way out of these apartments?”

One of the guards shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, Majesty. I believe there was once a secret passage, but it was sealed for fear of assassins discovering it and using it to get past the guards.”

“Then guard the door as best you can and pray help arrives before they get through,” Annette said as she held and tried to comfort her children who were sitting on the floor wailing.

Whoever was outside continued to pound rhythmically on the door. Whatever fighting taking place in the halls of the castle had moved further on as the only sounds that could be heard in the royal chambers was the bashing of the door and crying of the young prince and princess. Another, more ominous sound soon came from the door as the wood began splitting under the relentless assault. Part of the door cracked and splintered off and a few well-placed kicks completed the destruction.

With the barrier compromised, guards and other men not in uniform, wielding swords and daggers, poured into the room. Annette’s few guards launched themselves at the intruders despite being heavily outnumbered. Fortunately, the room’s enclosed space worked against the more numerous assassins and prevented their entire number from engaging the defenders all at once.

Annette’s guards were still outnumbered, but they fought with the determination and knowledge that their deaths were all but certain if they failed in their duty. The guardsmen fought furiously against the men that just yesterday were brothers in arms, but now found themselves on opposing sides of some else’s cause.

Two usurpers fell beneath the desperate blows of the loyalists then one of theirs fell with a thrust through the chest. For every defender that fell, two and three traitors died beneath their blades, but such a battle of attrition would be short-lived as there were always more assassins waiting to take the fallen men’s places.

Annette scooped her two children into her arms and fled into the adjoining children’s room. She dropped the screaming youngsters onto the bed and made to close the door. She wondered if she had the strength to move the sturdy wardrobe in front of the door since it had no lock or crossbar. As she moved to see if she could shift the bulky piece of furniture, it seemed to burst into flames as numerous runes flared with an incandescent light.

The doors burst open and a dark shape practically flew into the room from inside the closet. Annette thought it another assassin and leapt in front of her children with her dagger held before her. The young man that had emerged from the closet scanned the room briefly before turning his attention back to the Queen.

“Please do not be alarmed, Your Majesty. My name is Landrin and I am here to help you,” Landrin quickly explained.

Annette looked back and forth between the man and wardrobe. “How did you get in here? Have you been in there this whole time?”

“There is no time to explain. Please take your children into the wardrobe. You will find a passage out of here. I have men waiting on the other side to see to your comfort and safety. Where is the King?”

Annette shook her head as she tried to comprehend this strange new development. “In the throne room. He was to meet a delegation from the church. They will be after him! You must save him!”

“I will, Majesty. Please, flee through the wardrobe. I will return with King Jarvin soon,” Landrin instructed and prayed he would be able to keep his promise.

Annette grabbed her children and cautiously stepped into the wardrobe. Sure enough, it extended back much deeper than the outside implied. She took several steps towards the soft glow of a light at the far end. Suddenly, it felt as though the wardrobe was spinning. She used her free hand to try to steady herself as she staggered towards the light. She felt strong hands grab her and hold her steady as she stepped out of another wardrobe and tried to shake off her vertigo.

The queen looked up into the eyes of several rough-looking men all bearing weapons. Few wore any armor so she knew they were not soldiers. She clutched her children even more tightly to her breast, unsure who these men were or their motivations.

“You the Queen?” the man holding onto her arm asked gruffly.

Annette forced herself to stand up straight and regain her composure. “I am Queen Annette Ollander. Who might you gentlemen be?”

The man grinned, displaying the gaps created by at least three missing teeth. “I’m not sure there’s a gentleman between us, Highness, but I’m Donnigan and nominally in charge of this other scum until the boss get’s back. He said to be expecting you and to be on our best behavior.”

“Where am I, Mr. Donnigan?” Annette asked; certain that she was somehow no longer in the castle.

“You’re in Lord Bailey’s house in End’s Run,” Donnigan answered, grinning even wider in anticipation of the Queen’s reaction.

How could she possibly be in End’s Run? End’s Run was hundreds of miles to the north through a steep, narrow, snow-choked pass!

Donnigan spoke again. “If you had known this was an empty hilltop a couple weeks ago you probably wouldn’t be so surprised to be here.”

“Magic,” Annette whispered under her breath.

“Aye. Lord Bailey seems to be full of these little tricks.”

Brigitte and Joseph reminded Annette of their presence by crying once more. The Queen looked around for somewhere comfortable to sit with them and reassure them they were safe.

“Mr. Donnigan, is there somewhere I can sit with the children?”

“Aye. Fetch will show you to a room Landrin had made up for you. Fetch!” Donnigan called over his shoulder.

A twisted little half-man shouldered his way past the crowd of armed men. “Your Majesty, if you will follow me, I will show you to your room.”

Landrin sped through the door towards the sounds of battle as soon as the Queen stepped into the wardrobe. Four men were battling furiously against at least twice their number. The fact that the outnumbered men interposed themselves between the room Annette had been in and the other men, he quickly concluded these were loyal guardsmen and the more numerous combatants were traitors.

He sent a stream of magical orbs slamming into the chests of three of the nearest enemy with his free hand and cut viciously with the sword gripped in his other. Landrin stepped into the place one of Annette’s guards left open as he fell to a blow to his thigh. The vampire’s incredible speed, strength, and use of magic quickly turned the tide of battle. It took only seconds for Landrin and the remaining guards to hew down most of the attackers, but three ran back though the door, probably in search of help.

“Who are you? Where did you come from?” one of the guards demanded to know, unsure whether to trust this newcomer despite his intervention.

“I am a friend of the King. I do not have time to explain right now. There is a passage inside the large wardrobe in that room. The queen and her children have already fled through it to safety. I suggest you do the same.”

The man that appeared to be in charge shook his head. “No, we must go to the King!”

“You are all wounded and exhausted. I will go get the King and can move faster without you. Trust me. He and the Queen will need you more once I bring him back. Go. You can continue your service best by staying with the Queen, as I am sure you were ordered to do.”

The guardsman thought for only a moment, knowing the stranger was right. The King himself had personally appointed him and his men to guard the Queen and his heirs. He motioned for his men to grab the wounded and made for the children’s room.

Landrin took a moment to study the dead men. Nearly all wore the armor and livery of palace guards and he doubted that very many were fakes. These men had been convinced to turn against their king. He also noted that they each wore a swatch of orange or yellow cloth tied around their left upper arm, obviously as a way to discern friend from foe. Good. That worked for him as well.

He darted out of the room and sprinted down the hall. It did not take long before he heard the clashing of steel and came upon another group of men battling in a hall littered with corpses. Landrin quickly discerned loyalists from usurpers by the colored swatches and lent his steel and magic to the fray. Even outnumbered, the defenders quickly put down the traitorous soldiers thanks to Landrin’s aid.

Landrin ordered the men to follow him to the throne room and did not wait for a reply. Glad to have someone seemingly take charge, the men loyal to Jarvin fell in behind him and tried to keep up with the swift vampire. More than once, they lost sight of him only to find him once more standing amongst the recently slain bodies of men, but still they followed without question. He was leading them to their king and that was the only thing that mattered.

Jarvin sat restlessly upon his throne, occasionally glancing at his two advisors standing nearby. Most of his sour looks he directed at Bishop Caalendor, who as one of the leading heads of the church, would be the one to bear most of the responsibility for the church delegation keeping him waiting.

“Is there some religious fundamental I am unaware of that requires the church council to be an hour late to an audience with their king?” Jarvin asked the bishop irritably.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. Given the number and severity of the disturbances about the kingdom of late, it is likely they were held up attending to such matters,” the Bishop replied.

Jarvin looked at his advisor flatly, trying to decide if the man was being impertinent, but he was unable to tell from his tone. He thought that perhaps his waiting had finally ended as he heard a disturbance from outside the throne room, but it quickly resolved itself into the din of combat.

The King was just about to order one of the guards to check on it and report back when the chamber doors burst open and a bloody guardsman stumbled through.

“Treason, Your Majesty!” the man shouted to him as he burst into the chamber.

Jarvin stood and made to question the man when several of the interior guards pulled their blades and approached the dais upon which Jarvin stood. His first thought was that they were moving to protect him, but then one of the men thrust his sword into the back of the man stumbling towards the dais.

Jarvin immediately drew the sword he had made a habit of wearing as the guards continued to advance towards the dais. The King looked at the few doors leading from the throne room, trying to decide which would be the best route of escape and would get him back to his rooms where his wife and children were. A feeling of dread raised a chill up his spine as he thought of what might be happening elsewhere in the castle.

Magus Illifan stepped towards the approaching men and began casting. “Caalendor, get the King to safety!”

A ball of fire leapt from his outstretched hands, growing as it sped towards the assassins. The flaming sphere burst violently when it reached its mark, instantly killing half a dozen of the approaching men. He heard the bishop chanting nearby and looked towards him.

“I can take care of this rabble. Get the King out of here,” the old magus reiterated as more men began entering the throne room.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” the senior cleric said remorsefully.

Flames wrapped themselves around Magus Illifan like a gigantic serpent squeezing its prey. The wizard screamed as the flames constricted about his body and shot to the upper reaches of the high ceiling, engulfing him in a pillar of fire. The wizard’s charred body fell and lifelessly rolled down the marble steps.