Making Peace, page 30
Shield and Ugly joined us. I briefed them on the situation.
Shield hefted her own namesake. “I can probably block half the bridge with this.”
Ugly pointed at Vapor. “Can you block the other half?”
Vapor shrugged. “Probably, but it’s not gonna be clean. Ten bolts, possible reloads. If we’re fast we can probably take them after the first reload, which means fifteen bolts. Gonna be ugly.” She giggled, the sound almost jarring in the small space, and I realized she was enjoying herself. In the midst of all this carnage, she was actually finding it fun. Maybe it’s the freedom to spread her wings, I thought. I looked at Ugly and saw he was smiling at her, and I thought, What a pair these two make.
“It’s our best shot. Make ready,” Ugly said, tightening a strap on one of his harnesses that had come loose in the jostling.
Shield was humming to herself and running her hand over a hideous wound in Ugly’s shoulder, the flesh knitting closed under her fingers. She was going to have to save the limited amount of energy she had left.
I took stock of our injuries: Sen’s shoulder wound was mostly healed. My forehead was cut and bleeding, and I had a few ribs broken. I did my best to wipe some of the blood away from my eyes, but I feared it would run again with too much sweat. Shield’s sprained ankle was limiting her movement. Ugly’s various injuries didn’t look too bad at first glance, but who could really tell with all those scars. Vapor had used a lot of energy, and was relying on an unknown amount of reserve energy. Ina appeared mostly unharmed, but was the least experienced among us. She’d proven herself several times, but how much more could she take of her first battle?
Against… what? Ten guards with three hostages, plus the door guards to the throne room. And then the throne room itself, no doubt packed with more giants like the one who’d already given three of us so much trouble. A powerful Gifted nano-mage waiting to wipe the floor with us. A legendary duelist with a lifetime of experience in battle and cruelty. I leaned back against the wall, suddenly short of breath.
I felt a hand take hold of the straps to my breastplate, and looked up into Sen’s eyes. He gave me a firm shake, hand holding the leather on my shoulder. “Hey,” he said. “Holding up?”
I blinked a few times, not knowing what to say. “Yeah,” I said. Then again, “Yeah.”
Some sort of look crossed his face, but it was gone before I could figure out what it meant. Then he smiled that crooked smile of his. “After this, another round of beers? On me this time.”
I found the strength to smile. “I’d like that. Something to live for, I guess.”
He laughed. “Sure. And that waitress you liked, the one with the big hips. You should talk to her this time.” He snorted laughter at the face I made. Vapor, leaning against the wall nearby, giggled.
“I’m glad you’re able to find joy in my discomfort.” Their laughter proved infectious and I found myself laughing along with them, the tension in us dissolving. Shield smiled at us, looking confused but apparently glad to see us in high spirits. Ina just looked plain confused. Ugly was watching the corner as if he could see the enemy troops through the wall.
I drew a deep breath, looking Sen in the eye again. “Yeah, I’m ready.” I reached up and clasped the hand holding onto my shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. “Thanks, Sen.”
He grinned and let me go. “Anything for a brother-in-arms. Pay me back by writing about how dashing and handsome I am.”
Vapor cut in. “You can’t ask him to lie, Sen.”
I laughed and stood up, and the six of us got into formation: Shield and Vapor took point to provide cover, Ugly and Sen formed up behind them, and Ina and myself brought up the rear.
“Ready,” Ugly said. “Move out,”
We charged around the corner.
Five crossbows twanged. The bolts pattered off the kite shield and Vapor’s projected barrier. Shield and Vapor leaned into their defensive task, pressing hard in a fast walk. Shield was gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle, but she was leading the vanguard and I knew she’d never allow herself to slow down our advance.
Ina and I hunkered down behind the front two ranks. Thunder crashed in my ears with every beat of my heart. I knew my job: get inside the opening Ugly and Sen were going to create and do maximum damage inside enemy lines. As the smallest and quickest of the party, Ina and I were charged with cutting down the crossbowmen from the other side. It was going to be messy. My teeth ground together as my feet followed close on Ugly’s heels.
The second wave of bolts twanged. It had only been perhaps three seconds, and we were almost halfway across the bridge. The five crossbowmen concentrated on bypassing Shield’s physical barrier rather than contending with a mystical one. A bolt tore through the side of Shield’s injured leg, leaving a bloody groove in the calf. The bolt cracked into the railing beside me with enough force left that it splintered the wood. Shield wobbled on her next step but pressed on, blood running down her leg and dripping from her boot with each successive step.
We were nearly upon the crossbowmen, only feet away, but the first line was almost done reloading. The three hostages held in front of the enemy line screamed, their eyes wild with terror. It was Ugly and Sen’s job to deal with the serving girls, somehow.
My heart was pounding out of my chest, and the world seemed to slow to an excruciating rate. I watched Shield angle her kite shield outward and to the left, like she was opening a door. Vapor took a light step to her right, clearing a space. Ugly and Sen pressed through immediately like racehorses bolting from the gate. They rushed toward the front line and the servant girls.
Sen swung a broad horizontal stroke at eye level, which caused the men holding one of the girls to flinch back. Sen used his empty hand to shove the girl bodily to his right, toward the railing at the edge of the bridge. The serving girl crashed to the floor and slid to a stop, her right side hanging out over open space, but she managed to grab hold of the railing at the last moment. Sen stabbed directly into the center of the enemy formation, skewering one of the crossbowmen who had just finished reloading.
Ugly was less gentle, but he took a greater risk. He brought a hand down on each of the two remaining hostages’ shoulders, and I heard one girl’s collar bone snap with the force. Both were torn free from their captors’ hands and smashed to the floor with abrupt force.
The two Keepers had done it. A central path had been opened for Ina and me. But Ugly had taken a big gamble in freeing the girls without leaving any time to attack, and he ended up paying for it. The four remaining crossbowmen released their bolts just as Ina and I surged forward.
A bolt tore through the meat of my left bicep but somehow missed the bone. Vapor caught one bolt in midair inches from her chest, and she snapped the projectile in her fist. Ina dodged a bolt aimed at her, too fast and too lithe to track. Ugly took the last bolt straight in the throat. He staggered, his breath gurgling, but he did not fall.
Ina and I darted into the enemy formation and slashed at everything in sight. Her two long knives flashed and men fell, crippled and bleeding. I held my sword in close to my body as Tavel had taught me, dancing and whirling, letting my hips do most of the work in cutting through meat and bone. Between the two of us we managed to take out six foes. With Sen’s one kill, that made seven men down with three to go.
One of the remaining crossbowmen pulled a knife and lunged to stab Ina in the back, but Ugly raised one thick shortsword and blocked the attack before slicing downward with his other blade to sever the attacker’s arm in a shower of blood. The crossbowman fell to the ground, clutching his stump and screaming, all desire to fight pumping out of him. Ugly staggered again, his feet trying to slide out from under him.
Vapor lunged forward and sank the blade from her staff into the chest of another man, her movement too fast to track and accompanied by a violent gust of wind. The impact sent the skewered man flying off the end of her weapon and across the bridge where he disappeared over the edge.
Sen thrust his longsword at the last crossbowman. The soldier dodged and swung the crossbow at Sen’s head. Sen stepped around the swing and stabbed his blade into the man’s guts, impaling his foe.
Shield and I rushed to Ugly. He stood grunting, clutching his swords in both hands. Muscles all over his face, neck, and body strained to keep him upright.
The crossbow bolt jutted from his throat. Shield inspected the quarrel and then looked at me. “I can heal it,” she told me, “but it’s going to take precise timing, or he’ll bleed out. I need you to finish pushing the bolt through.”
My eyes bulged. “Me?” I protested. “I’m no medic.”
Shield grabbed my hand. “Bel, he’ll die. Do it.”
I shut my mouth, my teeth clicking together, and I examined the bolt. The crossbow had done most of the work, with only a tail and some fletching still protruding from the wound. My eyes met Ugly’s and he grunted at me, giving me a furious look and craning his neck toward me. I could almost hear his voice through that look. Do it, you bastard.
I dropped my sword to the bridge and wiped my bloody hands on my pants. Somewhere behind me I was conscious of Ina helping the serving girls to their feet and reassuring them she was here to free them. I shut out their weeping, shut out the whole damn world, grabbed Ugly by the leather harness across his shoulder, and rested the palm of my leather-gloved free hand against the bolt shaft.
Shield rested her hand on mine. My flesh tingled with the energy she was preparing to release into the wound. Her other hand rested against the side of Ugly’s neck. I pushed as hard as I could. I could feel the head of the bolt cutting through flesh, tearing its way out the other side. Ugly grunted again, glaring into my eyes. The shaft sank up to the end and I couldn’t press anymore, so I reached around to feel where it had come out. Not enough had emerged to get a grip on the slippery metal.
I looked in Ugly’s eyes again and he blinked at me. Taking that as permission, I drove two of my fingers into the wound in Ugly’s throat, sliding the shaft as far as it would go. Ugly groaned then, his body shuddering. His strength left him for a moment, and he leaned against me to stay upright.
I reached around again, gripped the head of the bolt, and yanked it out. Shield hurriedly clasped both naked hands to the wounds and lifted her voice in a frantic melody I didn’t recognize. Ugly closed his eyes as Shield worked her magic.
I took advantage of the brief respite and glanced over the side of the bridge to observe the battle far below. The Second House soldiers had surged into the building, battling the enemy on every level of the palace. It looked like we were winning, but it was hard to tell with so much blood and so many bodies everywhere.
Shield finished her song and Ugly opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and smiled at her. She whispered something I didn’t catch and slid her arms around Ugly’s neck, burying her face under his chin for just a moment. Then she stepped back and scooped up her weapons, ready to go.
I gave Ugly a thumbs-up. “Can’t imagine that’s gonna do much for your voice. Of course, it was pretty awful to begin with.”
Ugly gave me a crooked grin. “Worried about my singing voice, Scribbler?”
“Worried about my ears, more like,” I answered.
Ina gathered the serving girls we’d rescued, telling them to follow our backtrail. She pointed out some curtains and told them to tie them into ropes and escape through the hole we’d used to enter the building. They nodded as she talked, listening intently. Sen gave the girls directions back to our new headquarters and told them to take refuge with us, and they agreed. Then they were off like a shot, disappearing back the way we’d come.
We advanced through the palace until we reached the next staircase. The two rooms which had been meant to hold defenders were empty as we passed through them. The main attack and our insertion team had truly taken the First House by surprise. We climbed the two flights to the top, still not seeing anyone. At the top we spotted the enormous double doors. One of them was slightly ajar, though a face darted back through the opening and the door slammed shut the moment we came into view.
We spread out facing the doors, taking one last chance to breathe before a last push which was sure to be absolutely horrible. The Keepers looked around at each other, but no one had anything to say. When you’re marching into certain death, what is there to say?
Ugly made a punching gesture at the heavy doors. Vapor raised her hands with the palms out and blasted the doors with tremendous force, swinging them wide open. We filed through into the room behind Shield, who readied her kite shield to deflect any attacks.
No attacks came as we walked through the doors. I’d been expecting more crossbows, or at least sneaking swords and spears from around the sides of the doors, but nothing happened. We walked into the enormous throne room we’d visited months before. There were the polished ripplewood floors which gleamed underfoot, the bare wooden walls, the enormous wooden pillars like tree trunks. The open wall to the left spilled out onto a wide balcony overlooking the lawns and gardens of the First House, most of them now shattered by magic blasts and torched by flames. The sounds of pitched battle outside reached us through the open window.
Hegemon Marack sat on his massive dark granite throne on the raised stone dais at the end of the hall. He wore a charcoal gray tunic with matching pants and black combat boots. He appeared every inch the emperor of his domain, looking down upon filthy children trampling his good carpets. The severe expression on his angular face broadcast his immense displeasure.
The Hegemon’s pet nano-mage stood beside the throne wearing green and gold robes, his long brown hair left to hang free. Lime green eyes measured us as we approached. One hand rested on the arm of his master’s throne.
Arrayed around the dais were many of the same giants we’d fought below. Each nasty-looking brute carried savage weaponry. Their golden armor gleamed.
Captain knelt at the foot of the throne, facing us. His shackled wrists were chained to a metal ring bolted into the floor. Captain’s face was grim, his lips pressed tightly together.
Ugly stood at his full height to gaze up at the tyrant. The Hegemon looked down upon the scarred Keeper with an expression on his face suggesting he had smelled something foul.
“One chance,” Ugly said. “Surrender.”
The Hegemon considered for only a moment before rising from his throne. He drew a mesh gauntlet from one pocket and pulled it over his left hand. In a flash, he picked up a curved sword in a leather sheath from beside his throne, drawing the blade and tossing the sheath aside in one smooth motion. The Hegemon placed the razor edge against Captain’s throat, but Captain Dancer didn’t so much as flinch as the blade caressed his flesh.
“Walk out of here,” said the Hegemon, “and call off the attack, or he dies.”
Ugly’s jaw muscles clenched. Captain stared into Ugly’s eyes, trying to convey some message.
The Hegemon pressed the blade deeper into Captain’s flesh. “Do not defy me, Keeper. Do as I command.”
Captain, ever so slightly, shook his head. “Don’t stop,” he whispered.
Ugly stood rooted to the spot, as if paralyzed. I saw his jaw working, opening to speak, closing again. I could see him waffling, this man who had never hesitated before. He was considering making a deal. I knew it, and Captain knew it.
Captain’s eyes went hard. “I will not be used. You will face justice, Marack.” His manacled hands came up and grasped the blade against his throat. Hegemon Marack tightened his grip to keep Captain from pushing the blade away, but Captain surprised him by pulling the blade toward himself. In one clean motion, Captain leaned into it and slit his own throat. The blade bit deep, severing muscles and arteries. He fell over onto his side in a growing pool of blood.
“No!” Ugly roared.
Shield screamed. Not a scream of grief, but of rage.
Sen and Vapor bared their teeth, snarling.
My body shook with fury. My hand clenched on the hilt of my bared sword, demanding to be unleashed.
The Hegemon recovered quickly from his surprise. He lifted his gauntleted hand and pointed at us. “Kill them.”
The giant golden guards charged us. The floorboards quaked under the pounding of their feet, ripples of color in the wood spraying toward us. The Keepers lunged forward to meet the attack. A resounding crash filled the room as our two forces met. The Keepers fought like demons, driving the guards back onto their heels.
But even with every Keeper fueled by rage, there was no way we could reach Captain in time. Captain coughed once into the puddle of blood and became very still.
And just like that, the man we had come to save was dead.
Shield and Ugly formed a front line to hold off the worst of the assault. Sen darted in between them, scoring hit after hit which did little to slow down the enormous guards. Vapor circled to our right and smashed down one of the giants with a wave of her hand. His bones crunched as he hit the floor and I thought she would continue this, but she was only clearing space to handle her own magical duel with the enemy Gifted.
The enemy nano-mage shrugged off his heavy robes to reveal a green belted tunic and gold pants underneath, embroidered with intricate runes. He grinned as he descended the stone steps toward Vapor, curling and clenching his fingers in anticipation.
I moved to help Shield, Ugly, and Sen against the guards, but Ina grabbed my sleeve from behind. She shook her head and gestured around the side of the battlefield, along the wall. I followed her line of sight to see the Hegemon standing on his dais, overseeing the battle. I followed Ina as she skirted the fighting.
One of the enemy guards stopped our advance, but the Hegemon saw us coming and called him off. With slow steps, too spry for a man of his advanced years, the Hegemon descended from his throne to face us. His eyes, intense in their sharpness, gazed upon us with a mixture of apathy and contempt. He stood in a loose stance, sideways to us, with his head resting back and his hips cocked at a careless angle. His long curved blade was held low, the tip resting on the floor.
