Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) (23 page)

They had been climbing steadily for several minutes now, often up steep stairways that were carved into the dark rock of the mountain. Burial slots were carved into all the surrounding walls, and the eerie skulls of long dead kings watched silently as the living passed them by. In several places bones covered the floor where a skeleton had fallen from its place, or had been chewed by rats.

Just as it seemed the labyrinth would never end, Kendril thrust his arm forward, and pointed towards the end of the corridor in front of them.

“There,” he said eagerly. “I think I see something.”

The guests mumbled a collective murmur as the prayer came to a finish.

Sir Reginald shuffled uneasily from where he stood next to Lord Bathsby, one hand still on his sword. His darting eyes watched the crowd closely.

Bathsby himself was calm, one arm folded easily against the small of his back.

The doors in the back of the church opened once again, and the congregation rose to their feet. The soldiers standing by the front door froze in attention, standing stiffly at attention.

Serentha entered, her elegant white gown glowing in the candlelight. She held a simple bouquet of flowers in her hands, a veil covering her face.

Behind her came Bronwyn, holding flowers as well.

The princess walked unhesitatingly down the aisle, her eyes staring vacantly ahead. When she reached the front she kneeled before the altar.

Bronwyn followed behind her, and stepped off to one side as the princess rose to her feet again.

With a half-smile on his face, Bathsby stepped forward.

“It’s locked.”

Kendril rubbed his chafed hands, and stepped away from the hatch set in the ceiling above them.

“Let me try,” said Sir Mulcher. He stepped in, grunting as he attempted to lift the heavy metal slat.

It didn’t budge.

“They must keep it locked from above,” said Kendril as he looked over the length of the ceiling. He gave a rough curse, and smashed his hand against the wall.

Sir Mulcher stepped back and shook his head wearily. “It’s solid wrought iron, and barred into place. That or there’s something that weighs a ton sitting on top of it. Either way, we can’t get in this way.”

Joseph leaned against the wall, his face streaked with sweat and grime. “We
have
to get in this way. There isn’t another opening.”

“And what exactly do you suggest?” said Sir Mulcher, rubbing the dirt off his clothes. “Try it for yourself. The blasted thing won’t budge.”

Maklavir straightened suddenly. He removed the purple cape from his shoulders and folded it carefully. “All right, everyone out of the way,” he said quietly.

They stared over at him.

“What?” Kendril managed.

The diplomat walked up to the hatch, examining it with a critical eye. “I’m only good for one thing, remember?” He unslung a small pouch from his shoulder, and handed his folded cape to Joseph. “Try not to get any dirt on that, will you?” He looked over at the other men, who were all staring at him stupidly.

“You might want to get back,” he said with a disarming smile. “And find some cover, too, I shouldn’t wonder.”

The priest motioned to Lord Bathsby and Serentha, and they both approached the altar from opposite sides. He stood between them, beaming as he addressed the congregation. In the back of the church the doors were still open, letting in the cool night breeze.

The princess continued to smile, her face as lifeless as a doll’s.

The priest motioned for them to draw together. They did, turning their backs to the congregation and facing the altar.

“And now,” said the priest in a cheerful voice, “the vows.”

Kendril looked up at the hatch skeptically. “You sure you can do this?”

Maklavir grunted as he tied a matchcord into place, looping the end around a small bag of gunpowder. “I got us out of the Outpost, didn’t I?”

The Ghostwalker took a deep breath, then glanced down the dark catacombs to where the others were taking cover. “This is a little different, Maklavir. This hatch has to come off with the first blast. The noise will bring every guard within five miles. There won’t be time for a second chance.”

Maklavir lifted another small bag, and wedged it up by the hinge of the trap door. “Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong, my good man.” He looked over at Kendril with a mischievous grin. “The problem is not going to be
blowing
the hatch off. That’s a cinch. The real problem is going to be making sure the whole castle doesn’t come down on our heads in the process.”

Kendril took a deep breath. He looked up at the hatch again. “Right. Well…good luck, then.”

Maklavir pulled out another matchcord. “I work better without constant distractions.”

Kendril gave the diplomat a nasty glare, then walked back towards where Sir Mulcher was huddled with two lieutenants.

“And find the princess as quickly as you can,” the colonel was saying. “I want all three floors of the palace secured. Her Highness’s room is on the top floor, to the left.” He turned to the other lieutenant. “Lentille, you have thirty men. I need you to take the gatehouse, and hold it. No one gets in or out without my say-so. Understand?”

“What about the guards?” asked the first lieutenant hesitantly.

“Trust me,” interrupted Kendril, “they’re all loyal to Bathsby. Shoot them before they can shoot you.”

Sir Mulcher nodded. “There you are. If all goes well we’ll have the castle in our possession within an hour.”

And if all doesn’t go well
, Kendril thought to himself,
we’ll be hanged as traitors
.

The two officers scurried back to their men and hissed commands in the darkness of the tunnel.

Maklavir came quickly back down the passage, shaking the dirt off his hands. “We have about sixty seconds, gentlemen,” he said calmly. “Assuming I didn’t misjudge the length of the fuse.” He flopped around the corner of the tunnel, and covered his ears with his hands.

The soldiers ducked for cover, crouching with hands over their heads.

Sir Mulcher looked over at Kendril from where they were both hidden behind a stone coffin.

“Good hunting,” he said.

Kendril pulled out his pistol. “Likewise.”

“I do,” said Bathsby, lifting his chin as he pronounced the words. Behind him the chapel was deadly silent.

The priest turned to Serentha with a warm smile. “And do you, Princess Serentha, take Lord Bathsby to be your loving husband as long as you both shall live, in the sight of Eru the One?”

Serentha opened her mouth, but no words came out. She stood frozen in place.

Bathsby’s face twitched. He glanced over towards Bronwyn.

The priest gave Serentha a concerned look. “Your Highness?”

A ripple of disturbed murmurs flittered through the congregation

Bronwyn reached for the amulet at her neck. Its golden glow deepened.

Serentha wavered unsteadily, closing her eyes. “I—”

Bathsby took a half step forward. “Your Highness—” he began.

He never got a chance to finish his sentence.

From outside the open doors of the chapel came the muffled roar of an explosion.

Chapter 15

The sound of the gunpowder going off in the confined space was deafening.

The thunderclap echoed down the whole length of the catacombs, shaking dirt and bones free from the shelves they rested in. Whole skeletons clattered to the floor as the walls shook. Dust billowed down the underground passage, covering the hiding soldiers in a choking cloud.

Sputtering, Kendril got to his feet a half-second before Sir Mulcher, and charged through the white dust cloud towards where the hatch had been. He got there in an instant, hearing Mulcher’s heavier tromp behind him.

He looked up at the ceiling.

Maklavir’s work had been good indeed. Where the iron trapdoor had been before was now a gaping hole. Dirt still crumbled from the edges.

Pocketing his pistol, Kendril grabbed the edge and pulled himself up.

Bathsby’s sword was already in his hands. He spun around to Sir Reginald, who was drawing his rapier as well.

“Find out what that was,” he ordered, the fury showing in his eyes. “Now!”

Reginald didn’t need to be told twice. He dashed down the aisle, past the startled onlookers and out the chapel doors. The four Royal Guards at the rear of the church followed him.

The priest backed against the altar, a look of horror on his face.

Serentha shook her head, as if clearing her mind from a mist.

“What--?” she began, putting one hand to her head.

Bathsby swiveled his head, glaring over at Bronwyn. “Take
care
of her,” he said between his teeth.

The dark-haired woman took the amulet off her neck, held it in her hand and took a step towards the princess. “I’m
trying
,” she replied angrily.

Bathsby gave a snarl in reply, and glanced out at the tumultuous congregation. He turned back to the stunned priest.

“Finish the ceremony!” he thundered.

It was a storage room of some kind, with boxes and barrels stacked up against the wall. Most had been either torn to pieces by the explosion or badly knocked around by the force of the blast.

Kendril didn’t give any of them much more than a cursory glance.

He smashed into the only door in sight, and tumbled out into a long hallway with doors on either side.

Sir Mulcher was beside him a moment later. He glanced down the hallway behind them.

Kara appeared at the door, her red hair askew and riddled with dust. Two soldiers appeared behind her in the storage room, climbing up through the hole. Joseph was close behind them.

Kendril raced down the hall. He turned the corner and saw stairs ahead.

Sir Mulcher followed close behind him, waving to his soldiers forming in the corridor to follow him.

Kendril stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a moment. Above he could hear raised voices and the tramping of boots.

“If they block off the stairs we’ll be trapped,” said Mulcher in one breath. He glanced back behind him.

Kara appeared around the corner. She unstrung her bow as she ran.

Kendril nodded, a pistol in each hand. “Get your men together. I’ll hold the stairs.”
Before Mulcher could stop him the Ghostwalker leapt up the stairway.

Sir Reginald ran out of the church. The cold evening air slapped him in the face. Soldiers were running this way and that, some looking around in confusion.

A captain came running up to the nobleman and saluted.

“What happened?” Sir Reginald asked with a look around the courtyard.

“We don’t know, sir. There was a blast of some kind. It sounded like it came from the palace.”

Reginald glanced back at the chapel with a snarled curse. “Close the castle gate,” he ordered. “And get your men together. I want the palace cleared, top to bottom.”

The captain saluted again. “Yes, sir!”

Sir Reginald turned to the soldiers that had followed him out of the chapel, and waved his rapier. “You four, come with me.”

He turned towards the palace.

Kendril turned the corner of the stairs and almost ran into a Royal Guardsman coming down towards him.

Before the startled soldier could react Kendril coolly shot him in the chest. The pistol shot reverberated up and down the narrow stairwell.

Another soldier came hot on the heels of the first.

Without stopping Kendril leapt over the falling body of the man he had shot, and whipped the second man across the face with the barrel of his empty pistol.

The blow sent the soldier off balance, and he tumbled down the hard stone steps.

There was a shout from above, and an answering yell from further away.

Kendril kept running. He turned the last bit of the corner and burst through the open doorway.

He was back in the central hallway of the palace. The front doors were to his right, and to his left were the darkened stairs leading up to the building’s second and third floors.

There were also half a dozen guardsmen, some running down the palace stairs and others emerging from other doorways in the hall.

Kendril dove forward, another pistol already in his hand.

The closest soldier was fumbling for his rapier when Kendril blasted him back into a small table against the wall. The force of the impact knocked one of the giant portraits above off its perch, and the frame gave a loud crack as it fell onto the floor below.

Kendril didn’t have time to watch.

He turned back to the stairs, and drew one of his short swords.

One of the guards swung a halberd through the air at him. The blade cut through the hanging smoke in an arc towards Kendril’s head.

Kendril ducked, and battered back the haft of the weapon with his sword.

The soldier reacted quickly, thrusting forward with the sharp point of the halberd.

Kendril leapt to the side, caught the wooden shaft of the weapon and yanked it from the man’s hands. He thrust the butt of the halberd back into the soldier’s stomach, doubled him up and sent him careening back into a potted plant.

Kendril let the polearm drop with a clatter, and reached for his second sword.

There was a sharp twang to Kendril’s right, and an arrow blurred across the room, and transfixed one of the guards coming down the stairs.

The other two reached the bottom, and dodged off to the either side.

Kendril spared a brief instant to glance over towards the stairway.

Kara was kneeling behind a chair against the wall, reaching for another arrow. A soldier ran towards her from the opposite direction.

Kendril finished drawing his other sword, then moved across the wide hallway quickly to intercept the man. He blocked the guard’s blow with one of his swords, and slashed at him with the other.

The soldier circled around, narrowly avoiding Kendril’s swipe.

A gunshot tore into the chair by Kara’s head and sent stuffing and wood flying in all directions.