Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) (13 page)

The guard eyed them both suspiciously. “Can’t you hear the bell? No one leaves.” He barked a command over his shoulder, and a soldier disappeared into one of the gatehouses. A moment later there was a loud cranking noise, and the drawbridge began to rise.

Maklavir tugged nervously at his collar. “Surely you don’t mean to shut us in? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

The soldier sniffed. “We’ll see about that. For now you’re both under arrest.”

Another soldier appeared, a loaded crossbow in his hands. He pointed it at Maklavir. The guards on the top of the nearby walls looked down at them tensely, their hands gripping their weapons.

“This is uncalled for!” Maklavir protested. “I demand to speak to your commanding officer.”

The soldier hefted the halberd threateningly in Maklavir’s direction. “Gladly.” His smile disappeared. “Now get off the horse.” He glanced over at Kara. “Both of you.”

By now the drawbridge was raised almost halfway. Maklavir gave Kara a helpless look.

“I don’t think we have much choice,” he whispered. “I think we’d better dismount.”

 Kara’s eyes quickly shifted between the two entrances to the gatehouses, then to the rising drawbridge. She took a deep breath, then nodded.

Ever so slowly, they started to climb off their mounts.

Joseph hit the floor at the bottom of the staircase and ran. The clattering steps of the soldiers behind him echoed down the corridor. The main hall stretched before him, with the palace entrance straight ahead. He lurched to the right, and crashed through a side door. He ran down the narrow corridor, and brushed past a startled servant. Behind him he could several voices shouting and swearing.

They must not have seen where he had gone, thank Eru. It was only a matter of time before they found him, though.

He whirled around a corner, past the billiards room and towards the door at the end of the hall. It was the same one that Maklavir and Kara had used earlier to get outside.

Joseph kicked it open, and tumbled out into the long swathe of the palace garden. He dove down behind a rose bush, and looked back behind him.

Guards were running across the top of the castle wall to his right, but no one seemed to have seen him.

So much for going back for Kendril and Serentha.

Lord Bathsby strode into the room. In a flash his eyes surveyed the overturned mattress and the feathers covering the floor. One soldier lay dead against the wall near the fireplace, while several others were clustered out on the balcony.

“Report!” he thundered.

The captain spun around, and saluted sharply. “Sir! We had the Ghostwalker trapped on the balcony. He must have jumped off to the ground.”

Bathsby stepped out onto the veranda, and pushed a guard out of his way. He leaned over the rail.

Several soldiers were down there already, probing the bushes near the edge of the pond.

Bathsby stepped away from the rail. “No one saw him?”

The captain shook his head. “No, sir. He just vanished. He was out here, though, right next to the curtain—”

Bathsby whirled, and he scanned the small veranda. His eyes narrowed, then he cursed loudly. He stepped back, looked at the veranda railing, then up. A small ledge hung over the top of the porch, crowned again by a higher overhang that led to the top of the palace.

“He went
up
, not down,” Bathsby spat. “He’s on the roof.”

The captain’s face whitened. “Yes, sir!” he stammered. He motioned to several of his men, who quickly ran back into the bedroom.

Bathsby scanned the edge of the roof above. His eyes flared angrily. “When you find him,” he seethed, “kill him.”

The game was up.

The drawbridge was almost completely shut, and with it the only exit from the castle would be closed off entirely.

Kara removed her foot from her horse’s stirrup, and swung her leg over the back of her horse.

One thing she was sure of. She wouldn’t be captured. Not again. She had had enough of chains and prison cells for one week.

As she dropped off the horse her left hand unhooked the hunting bow from the horse’s saddle, while her right drew an arrow out of the quiver slung on her back. She dropped to the ground on the side of the horse facing away from the drawbridge, ducked down and pulled back the string on the bow.

She fired between the legs of the beast. The arrow whistled out from beneath the horse’s belly.

It happened so quickly that the guards were taken completely by surprise.

The arrow hit the man with the crossbow and knocked him back into a water barrel. It overturned with a mighty crash.

Kara dodged to one side while her fingers drew another arrow and fitted it to the string.

There was an angry shout from the sergeant holding the halberd, right before Kara placed another arrow between his eyes.

The man toppled dead to the ground.

A crossbow sang to her left. The bolt sailed passed her and missed her by mere inches.

Kara glanced up and fired another arrow in the same motion, aimed blindly in the direction of the unseen sniper.

Two men shouted in alarm and scrambled for cover.

Kara whirled and fumbled for another arrow.

Another guard ran at her, his sword raised high for a killing blow.

He was only four feet away when she managed to get the arrow on the string, and fired.

The shot pummeled the soldier back several yards. His sword fell from his lifeless hands.

Kara strung another arrow. Her heart raced as she searched the walls.

The other guards had ducked back inside the tower.

Maklavir stood next to his horse, blinking at her in astonishment. “Great Eru!” he said, his voice filled with disbelief. “How--?”

The drawbridge was almost shut.

“Maklavir!” Kara shouted, “the gatehouse!”

The diplomat recovered his senses, and drew his sword. “Right—” He dashed towards the right hand gatehouse.

Kara knelt as a soldier stepped out of the gatehouse to the left. She fired, and the man to jumped back inside with a yelp. The arrow embedded itself in the wood of the door.

Another arrow was already in her hand as she scanned the walls above her again.

She was a sitting duck out here in the open, and she couldn’t hold down half the garrison forever.

And where was Joseph?

Kendril swore as his foot slipped on the uneven surface of the roof. A shingle came loose, and clattered loudly as it slid away. He pulled himself to his feet again, half crawling and half running up the steep slope of the palace roof.

This hadn’t exactly been the best of plans, now that he thought of it. Of course, he hadn’t had a lot of time to think over his options back on the veranda, and using the railing to jump up onto the ledge leading to the roof of the palace had seemed like a decent idea at the time.

It was amazing what a little hindsight could reveal.

Kendril reached the apex of the roof, and glanced back behind him.

The roof of the palace was wide, and sloped sharply down in both directions. Even worse, many of the shingles up here were loose and broken. Whoever was supposed to be in charge of maintenance had not done a very thorough job. From where Kendril was standing he could see the whole dark stretch of the castle courtyard, with the black shape of the statue and tree-lined avenue far below him.

He was just turning his head back around when his eyes caught the burning flare of a matchlock on the castle wall to the east.

With another strangled curse he rolled off to the side.

An instant later there was a flash of gunfire and an accompanying
bang
.

The shot missed, but just barely. Pieces of shingles exploded in all directions. Two or three pattered off Kendril’s cloak.

So now there were snipers. This really was getting fun.

Maklavir was barely inside the gatehouse when he saw a sword swing right at him.

He ducked and dove to the floor as the blade whistled over his head. Maklavir scrambled backwards. As he struggled to his feet, he realized to his dismay that the floor was made out of dirt.

And here he was wearing brand-new clothes. Would this horror never end?

A large winch stood in the center of the room, with the chain from the drawbridge wrapped around it. Maklavir had only a moment to notice it, however.

The guard came at him again with his sword.

The diplomat managed to parry two blows from his attacker, then backed away against the wall. He was really starting to get worried.

He couldn’t afford to ruin his cape again….

Kara made it behind the barrel just moments before a crossbow bolt cracked into the side of the wood and stuck fast.

She leaned out to fire, but the sniper had already ducked back behind the parapet on the wall above. Cursing under her breath, she pulled herself back behind cover.

She was crouched behind several crates near the entrance to the right hand gatehouse, desperately trying to watch all directions at the same time. Further off down the walls she could just glimpse more guards running towards the gate.

Eru only knew what Maklavir was up to in the gatehouse, but there were sounds of fighting coming from within. Kara could only hope the diplomat was a better swordsman than she guessed he was.

She leaned out from behind the barrel again, her loaded bow at the ready.

The drawbridge had stopped rising, but it was almost shut. The portcullis was still up, though. One small blessing.

Kara hurriedly fired off another arrow as a head peeked around the corner of the left-hand gatehouse door. She missed, but the head vanished back inside.

Her fingers trembled as she drew another arrow.

Right now the best thing she could hope for was to die a quick death. She couldn’t be taken alive again.

She was determined not to give Sir Reginald that pleasure.

Kendril had been feeling a slight unease that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Then it suddenly came to him.

It was heights. He hated heights.

Maybe “hated” was too strong. Strongly disliked.

In any event, he was all but convinced that the whole roof thing had been a bad idea from the start.

Another shout echoed from the castle wall as Kendril dove down the slope of the roof.

He slid down the bumpy path of shingles until his gloved hand caught the edge. He stopped himself, took a quick glance over the side, closed his eyes, and rolled off.

He fell about ten feet or so before he crashed onto a lower ledge, and slid down for a moment as his boots slipped on the treacherous surface.

Pain shot up through the old wound on his side like hot fire, but Kendril forced himself to ignore it.

 Below him was the garden that ran up next to the palace. Far off to his left was the castle gate, the only chance for escape. Kendril took a deep breath, and crouched.

Oh, well. It wasn’t like he was going to live forever.

He moved to the edge, then jumped.

Maklavir was an outstanding swordsman.

Well, actually that wasn’t entirely true, but he made it a habit to think such thoughts on the rare occasions when he found himself in a situation such as the one he was in right now. The hope was always that he might perhaps somehow fool his body into believing that he really
was
an outstanding swordsman.

It had never actually worked before, and it didn’t seem to be working now.

Maklavir barely dodged another blow from his adversary.

Dirt rose in a cloud from the floor. He had no doubt it was coming right for his new trousers.

The guard came at Maklavir again and screamed as he chopped his sword down.

The blade sparked against the heavy iron chain running up towards the drawbridge, and for a second the weapon caught in the space between the links.

Maklavir tumbled backwards, and tripped over some kind of wooden lever.

With a great whooshing noise and a deafening rattle, the drawbridge chain released, and flew back into the opening in the wall. The soldier’s sword flew out of his hand. The steel rang as it struck the far wall.

The guard stared stupidly at his empty hand.

Maklavir smiled apologetically, then clobbered the man in the face with the hilt of his sword.

He fell back senseless onto the floor.

Maklavir straightened his shirt, and quickly checked his cape and trousers.

A little dirt, but nothing that wouldn’t come out with a good wash. He gave a sigh of relief.

Perhaps things were starting to look up after all.

Kendril crashed into the hedge.

He felt branches tear wildly at his cloak and clothes. He spat leaves from his mouth, then waded through the sharp branches towards more solid ground.

The Ghostwalker fell out of the bush onto the grass, swiping loose bits of vegetation off his cloak. Beside a burning slash on the side of his neck from a branch, he wasn’t hurt.

He got to his feet, pulling a broken stick from his sleeve.

At least he wasn’t on the roof anymore.

A shout from behind him made him turn.

A white-uniformed soldier tore around a piece of shrubbery, a halberd in his hands.

Kendril instantly whipped out a pistol and pulled the trigger. The flint clicked and sparked on the pan.

Nothing else happened.

Ah, yes, that was right. He had already fired that one.

Kendril reached for his sword, knowing as he did there would be no way to get it out in time.

He dodged back, and prepared to take the guard’s blow as best as he could with his shoulder.

There was a sudden flash of metal and a dagger hurtled through the air, striking the soldier in the throat. The man fell lifeless to the ground.

Kendril drew his sword and turned around.

Joseph hurried up to him, a smile on his face. “Wasn’t sure I would see you again.”

Kendril ducked back against the hedge. “You almost didn’t. That’s the second time you’ve saved my neck. Where’s Maklavir?”

Joseph retrieved his knife, and wiped it clean on the grass. “Getting the animals. The Guards attacked me back there in the palace. Do you know what’s going on?”