King of Foxes (41 page)

Varen reached up and gripped her chin. “A little life left in there yet, isn’t there, my dear?” He regarded her intently. “Slow death is the best death . . . for me. Right _______________

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now, I imagine it’s pretty miserable being you.” He laughed and let her chin drop. Then he started walking back toward Tal. “It wouldn’t surprise me to discover you both work for an old enemy of mine. Sad to say, I haven’t time to put you on the wall and find out. But even if you don’t, you’ve been a serious nuisance, Talwin. Bringing an army, sacking the city, all that
noise
.” His eyes widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. “I do enjoy the screaming and the blood, though. That’s a nice touch.” He reached Tal and knelt beside him. “Now, it’s been lovely seeing you again, but I must put an end to our time together. I fear Kaspar is about to lose his city, and that being the case, I must depart for a new home.” He smiled. “Good-bye.” Then he reached out with his dagger, as Tal had expected, and started to slice down on Tal’s exposed neck.

Tal used every ounce of strength he possessed to slash upward with the dagger he had pulled from his belt, and block Leso’s move. Varen was a powerful magician, but in the use of a blade he might as well have been a baby compared to Tal. Varen’s blade flew from his hand and went clattering across the floor.

Tal then slashed out again, only to find his blade deflected from Varen’s skin by some sort of arcane armor.

But the blow caused the magician to fall backward, landing hard on his rump, and suddenly the pain wracking Tal’s body ceased.

Taking a deep breath, Tal rose to his feet. “So, steel can’t touch you?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Varen, his eyes narrowing. He scrambled to his feet. “You know, this is no longer amusing. Please die
now
!”

He put out his hand and Tal could feel energies building. Only once or twice had he witnessed Pug or Magnus gathering power, and the results were usually spectacular.

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Tal had no doubt that if he let the mage finish his incantation, he would not enjoy the results.

In the remaining seconds he had, he knew his sword would be as useless as his dagger. He felt a lump in his tunic and snatched out the hard ball Nakor had given him. In a desperate move to interrupt the magician’s concentration, he drew his arm back and threw the ball as hard as he could.

The ball passed through whatever energy-armor Varen possessed and struck him hard in the throat. The incantation was disrupted, and Tal felt the power in the room fade.

The magician’s eyes went round as he grabbed his throat. He fought for air, but Tal could see he couldn’t breathe. He took two steps toward the mage, and Varen fell to his knees, his face turning red and the veins on his head starting to stand out.

A voice from behind said, “I think you crushed his windpipe.”

Tal looked and saw one of the soldiers rising to his feet. Tal pointed at a large clay object next to the door, hexagonal in shape and covered in mystic writings. “See that,” he said. “Break it. Look around these rooms and you’ll find more. Break them all.”

Tal walked over to the quivering magician and looked down at him. “Hell of a way to die, isn’t it?” he said. Then he knelt, pulled Varen upright, moved behind him, and put his arms on either side of his head. With one quick jerk, he broke the dark mage’s neck. Leso Varen’s body crumpled to the floor.

Then Tal rose and went over to the unconscious figure on the wall. He unfastened the shackles and took Alysandra down gently. He looked at the face of the woman he had once thought he loved. Stunning beauty _______________

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was now terribly scarred, for Varen’s use of the dagger had not been kind. Tal took his cloak off and wrapped it around her. Calling to one of the soldiers nearby, he said,

“Take her to the rear and see if the chirurgeon can save her.” The soldier cradled the girl in his arms and carried her out of the door.

When the last ward was smashed, the air suddenly siz-zled with energy and three men materialized in the room.

Pug, Magnus, and Nakor looked down at the dead mage.

Nakor said, “You did better than I thought you would.”

Pug said, “Get everyone out of this room, Tal. There are things here that only we three are equipped to confront.” He looked down. “Just because this body is dead doesn’t mean the magic doesn’t linger. There may be traps still.”

Tal turned and ordered his soldiers out of the room.

Magnus nodded. “Nakor’s right. You did well.”

Pug said, “How goes the rest of the fight?”

Tal shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve received no word from Creed or Quint, but now that this . . . man is dead, I plan on seeing this thing ended.”

As he turned to leave, Pug grabbed his arm. Looking Tal in the eyes, he said, “Before you find Kaspar, remember this: you’ve been harshly used all your life, Tal, by the Conclave as well as by Kaspar. Would I have given you up to kill this enemy of mine?” He pointed to Varen’s corpse.

“A hundred times over, my friend.” For a moment pain passed behind Pug’s eyes. “You would not be the first of those I cared about to die.” His hand tightened a little on Tal’s arm. “The Conclave will ask nothing more of you: from now on your life is your own to do with what you will. In any way we can we will help, with gold, land, pardons from the Isles and Roldem. Ask what you will, and if we can do it, we will.

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“But one thing above all you
must
understand. You are at a crossroads, and from this moment forward who you will be is in your own hands. Decide what sort of man you wish to be . . . then act.”

Tal nodded. “Right now I have but one goal, Pug. I will find Kaspar, then after I end his life, I’ll worry about the rest of mine.”

Without another word, he picked up his sword and followed his mercenaries down the hall and away from the magician’s lair.

__

Tal shouted orders and swung his sword. His company had encountered a roomful of Olaskan soldiers who appeared determined to defend that part of the citadel with their lives. The room-to-room fighting was bloody and unforgiving. Tal passed few wounded, but a great many dead on both sides.

He had been fighting for two hours, the pain he suffered at the hands of the magician now forgotten. He had cleared half a dozen rooms since leaving the magician’s wing. Runners had come telling him the outer bailey and the lower rooms of the citadel were secured, and that men were being detailed to guard Olaskan prisoners. But the closer he got to Kaspar’s throne room, the fiercer was the defense.

The fighting went on for the rest of the day, and twice he had to withdraw and take water and food. His arms felt as if they had iron weights tied to them, but he kept coming back to lead his men.

After hours of fighting, Tal realized they had surrounded the throne room, and he quickly sent runners to ensure that the doors were secure. He motioned for a _______________

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dozen men to follow him, for he knew there were other, less obvious, ways out of that room.

He found an entrance to the servants’ passages and almost died when he opened the door. Only his exceptional reflexes allowed him to block the sword thrust that greeted his tripping the latch.

“Pikes!” he shouted and men with pole-arms raced forward. They lowered their weapons and drove the defenders back down the narrow passage, and Tal and his men followed.

There had been half a dozen men in the passage, and they turned and fled after two were struck down by the pikes. Tal hurried after them but stopped running when he realized they had found the servants’ entrance to the throne room.

A peephole had been drilled in the door and covered by a simple piece of metal on a screw. It had been put there so that servants wouldn’t interrupt the Duke when he was conducting formal court.

Tal peered through and saw Kaspar standing in the middle of the room, directing his defenders. He was wearing his black armor and bellowing commands, looking as much like a bear at bay as the one Tal had killed protecting him those years past.

Tal judged he could possibly reach Kaspar before the Duke recognized he was in the room, but he couldn’t be certain. Better to wait for a few minutes and see how the assault on the three entrances went. Tal knew he could spare more soldiers than Kaspar, for by what Tal could see, he had less than a full company in the room.

From outside came a voice, speaking Roldemish but in a heavy accent—a Keshian commander. “Will you accept quarter?”

Kaspar laughed. “Never!”

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Tal hated to see men die needlessly. The outcome was no longer in doubt. Kaspar had been totally routed in less than a day. But there was no need for more men to die. He turned and said, “Send word back that I want as many men as possible through here. When I open the door, I will go straight in.” To the man behind him he said, “Go right,”

then to the second man behind him he added, “and you go left. Each man right, then left. Flood the room and draw the defenders away from the doors. Let’s end this!”

Tal waited as word was passed, then he flipped the latch and charged into the room. For a moment he moved without being noticed, then something seen out of the corner of Kaspar’s eye must have alerted him, for he turned just in time to raise his sword and take Tal’s attack.

Those near the Duke turned to defend him, but they were quickly engaged by other mercenaries who ran from the servants’ passage. Tal swung a looping overhand blow, then turned it at the last, almost taking Kaspar’s arm off at the shoulder. The big man dodged aside at the last second, his eyes widening in recognition. “Tal!” He slashed back, forcing Tal to give ground. “And with both arms.

That must be a tale to tell.” He lashed out in a furious combination, which lacked finesse but was effective.

Tal could not risk taking his eyes off Kaspar, so determined was the Duke to defeat him, but he could sense the rhythm of the fight changing. With his own men attacking from behind, those defending the doors were being overwhelmed.

Kaspar cut and parried, his face a mask of concentration, oblivious to everything else around him as he sought to kill Tal. Tal knew that he was by far the better swordsman, but he was fatigued, still in pain, and his right hand had not recovered completely. One mistake on his part was all Kaspar needed.

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All around the two combatants the din of weapons diminished as swords hit the floor and men ceased fighting.

After a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were the groans of the wounded and the clang of Tal’s and Kaspar’s blades ringing together as they clashed.

Kaspar’s face was flushed, and his cheeks bulged as he puffed hard, trying to keep his wind. Tal felt his own body ache with the need to end this; but Kaspar was giving him no clear-cut opening.

Then Kaspar stepped the wrong way, and for an instant his toe touched the leg of a corpse lying on the floor.

He stumbled, and Tal was upon him like a cat on a mouse.

Tal got inside Kaspar’s guard and engaged his blade with his own, and with one twisting move had the sword out of Kaspar’s hand. The next moment Kaspar was motionless, Tal’s sword point at his throat.

Kaspar braced himself for the death stroke, but Tal just kept his sword pressing that vulnerable skin. Then he said, “Bind him!”

At this point, John Creed came into the room. “You did it!”

“
We
did it,” said Tal. He looked around the chamber.

“And a lot of men paid for the victory with their lives.”

Creed said, “So, why didn’t you finish him?”

Tal walked up to look Kaspar in the eyes as two soldiers bound the Duke’s wrists behind his back. “That would have been too quick,” said Tal. “I want him to fully understand what he’s lost, what’s been taken away from him.” He put up his sword. “Besides, I can hang him tomorrow as easily as cut his throat today.”

Looking around the room, he said, “Make sure everyone knows the citadel is ours. Then pass the word to stop fighting.”

The Keshian commander of the forces that had been _______________

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attacking the room approached. “Captain, we will withdraw as we agreed. The citadel is yours.”

Tal said, “Thank you, and thank your emperor. I don’t suppose there’s much hope of controlling the looting on the way back to the harbor?”

The Captain shrugged. “Booty is part of war, is it not?” He bowed his head and shouted his orders, and the Keshian Dog Soldiers began withdrawing.

After the Keshians were gone, Creed said, “If there’s anything of value left in the city when those boys are gone, our lads will be surprised.”

Tal smiled. “There’s enough in the citadel to make every man here feel rich. We’ll get to that tomorrow.

Tend to the wounded, and get the staff in the kitchen to start cooking. If everyone else is as hungry as I am, we’re going to eat the entire stores in one day.”

Creed nodded and started conveying Tal’s orders. Tal glanced around the room, then said to the two guards who held Kaspar, “Keep him here for the time being, but everyone else is to be taken down to the marshaling yard and put under guard.”

Tal sheathed his sword and made his way out of Kaspar’s throne room and hurried to Kaspar’s family apartment, ignoring the looks he got from frightened servants.

When he reached Natalia’s door he found a squad of guards waiting. He looked at them and said, “It’s over.

Kaspar is taken. Throw down your weapons, or I will come back with fifty men. No harm will come to your lady.”

The men glanced at one another, then slowly put down their swords. “Go down to the marshaling yard and wait; you’ll be given parole in the morning.”

The guards left slowly, and when they were gone, Tal opened the door to Natalia’s apartment. A blur of motion _______________