In Treachery Forged (The Law of Swords) (53 page)

Too slow too slow too slow too slow...
he chanted mentally. Finally, he even started pulling from that magic that kept him from bleeding. Paljor had won, but Maelgyn could still sacrifice himself to stop this madman.

Now!

“Glug!” was all Paljor could say as he his body heaved when Sekhar’s blow hit him from behind. The feeling that a fiery icicle had been run through his chest was overwhelming, and he found himself having the hardest time catching his breath. He was also in more pain than he had ever experienced when he tried to breathe, and found himself too distracted to maintain the waves of magic he was using to pin everybody to the walls. Euleilla forced him to drop his sword, but he didn’t even pay any attention to that – he was much too concerned about what had happened to him.

Paljor looked down, coughing some bloody foam out of his mouth as he did. That was when he saw it – the green spike of a
schlipf
thorn coming out of his chest, directly through his right lung. It missed his heart, but the wound was immediately crippling. He recognized the implement, however, and stepped forward to get away from it.

“So,” Paljor rasped, now requiring all of his magic internally to keep himself alive and functioning. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you, your highness? I would never have expected you to sacrifice yourself for a
schlipf.
”

“I didn’t sacrifice myself,” Maelgyn replied, breathing heavily himself. Now both of them were badly wounded, but Paljor still could win. If Maelgyn showed any weakness, Paljor could launch a fatal attack instantly. “He’s a volunteer. Few of the weaknesses and all of the strengths.”

Paljor tried to laugh, but it turned into more of a hacking cough as he vomited up some more blood. “I see,” he finally said. “An Elf, a Dwarf, a Nekoji, a female Mage, a Sword, and a
schlipf.
But it is not enough.” He picked up his katana and started advancing on Maelgyn. “Neither of us is strong enough to fight using our magic at this point, but that is still in my favor. For wounding me like this, you are dead, you—”

That was his last word, as another weapon impaled its way through his neck. Wangdu’s spear twisted before it withdrew, gouging out his throat from behind.

“You forgot something, you did,” the Elf said to the dying man. “You violated the code of conduct for a duel, you did... which freed this Elf to fight you, it did. High Mage or not, you may be, but you could never have beaten me in a battle, you couldn’t.”

Euleilla pulled the sword out of Paljor’s failing grip once more with her magic, pulling it into her own hand. “Not just the Elf. Your treachery has freed this Mage to act as well.”

“And the Dwarf, and the Nekoji,” El’Athras noted. “And your own Barons, who just might take a dim view of your murdering one of their own and threatening their lives.”

Paljor could not speak, he could not breathe, but he still had a fractional bit of his magic remaining. He was dead, and he knew it, but at least he could have his revenge. There was one person who was completely unprotected from magic, who was weak, and who would hurt those who killed him... and, his target chosen, he put all his remaining magic into crushing that man.

Ruznak stumbled back as the attack hit him... but that was all the harm he suffered, as Euleilla and Maelgyn both threw up magical defenses around him. Paljor’s last attempt at magic had failed.

It was not completely futile, however. Maelgyn had been holding himself together with his magic, but to protect Ruznak he had to pull from the magic keeping him alive. Paljor’s last moments saw Euleilla collapse at her husband’s side, sobbing, as he also fell.

Epilog

In the aftermath of the duel, the Borden Isle Council was in serious disarray. Maelgyn was only barely alive, and only by virtue of Euleilla’s own magic. Their party, Maelgyn included, had been carried into a side room and placed under heavy guard. They had killed the King of the Borden Islands – there was bound to be repercussions, no matter Paljor’s mistreatment of the Seats. Still, none of their weapons were being confiscated, which led to some confusion as to their status: Were they being imprisoned, or protected?

Ruznak shifted uncomfortably on a hard stone bench. “Well, now what are we going to do?”

“Do?” El’Athras snorted. “What do you mean?”

“We still don’t know if Maelgyn will live or die,” Ruznak noted. “We’re not being allowed to leave, not even to summon medical aid. Uwelain is dead, and we do not know the sympathies of whoever it is that is now supposed to succeed Paljor. I know that my life hangs by the thread of our parlay agreement, and if Paljor’s successor decides that we violated that agreement when we deposed Paljor than I’m as good as dead already. Not that I’ll be missing much – I’m so old I might die of old age before they could build the gallows for me – but what do we do if the new ‘Sword King’ is hostile to us?”

Wangdu grinned, bringing his hand to his staff. “We do what we have to, we do. Not many people can harm an Elf, they can’t, and we’ll be fine no matter what, we will. But I doubt that an escape will be needed, it won’t.”

“They’d never have let us keep our weapons if they were going to harm us,” El’Athras pointed out. “Not that it would have been easy for them to take them from us.”

“If it comes to a battle, we are well prepared,” Onayari pointed out. “I am the greatest warrior of my clan. El’Athras is a master of infiltration, sabotage, and planning. The Elves are the most powerful warriors in the known world. Not to mention all of the mages our company could bring out in a battle with any force the Borden Islanders could muster.”

Wangdu’s face darkened. “Well, we Elves aren’t necessarily the most powerful warriors, we’re not. We’ve lost major battles before, we have – to the Ancient Dragons, to Ancient Enemies whose names we no longer speak, and even to some armies of Dwarves or Humans. Paljor was almost as strong as me, he was. There should be enough mages and soldiers in Borden to counter even me, there should. If it comes to a battle, it does, the numbers say we’ll lose, they do.” He paused. “But I do not see us being involved in a battle with them, I don’t.”

“Well, I’m relieved about that,” a Borden Islander said from the door. He glared briefly at Ruznak before turning to the Elf. “I presume, in His Highness’ absence, you would be the leader of your little party?”

Wangdu wasn’t surprised by his silent entry in the least – or at least, didn’t look it. He grinned at the newcomer and shook his head. “We never settled that, we didn’t. I may be called that, I might, but I am not Sviedan, I’m not. We also have with us the newly made Count El’Athras of Svieda, we do, who has an official position in Sviedan government, he does. My status in the kingdom has not been discussed.”

The guard frowned, but then shrugged. “I suppose I’ll ask you both to attend, then.”

Wangdu considered that for a moment. “I trust you, I do, but my friend Ruznak is a bit anxious, he is. Perhaps he could join us as well, he could?”

“As you please,” the man replied, clearly disinterested. “All of you may come, if you so desire, though it looks like the Lady is too busy to attend.”

“Then let’s go,” El’Athras grumbled gruffly, directing the others to the door as quickly as he could make them move. “Never a good thing to keep a Council waiting, is it?”

The bloodstains on the floor were a stark reminder that, yes, the room they were standing in was the same in which Maelgyn fought his duel in only a few hours before. The eleven surviving Seats of the Council were in their chairs, looking extremely serious. Resting on the late Paljor’s throne was the Borden Isles’ Sword. Maelgyn’s Sword and the katana Paljor fought with were in Euleilla’s possession, the last anyone saw of them, but some of the shards of Maelgyn’s lesser sword had been gathered together and placed at the throne’s foot. The Seat belonging to Uwelain was shrouded in the black veils of mourning, and all torches and other lights near the chair were extinguished – stark reminders of their fallen fellow conspirator.

“Where is her highness, Princess Euleilla?” one of the Seats asked the escort.

“She was unwilling to leave her husband’s side,” the guard explained. “So I brought Prince Maelgyn’s advisors, including a newly made Count of Svieda.”

The councilman nodded as if he had expected that answer. “Very well. Representatives of Svieda, you should know that your actions have left us in a very difficult position.”

“We apologize, we do,” Wangdu replied. “But our actions were necessary, they were.”

“And we understand your actions,” the Seat assured them. “Nevertheless, it has caused many complications in our government.”

“Such as?” El’Athras asked, not willing to deal with the diplomatic nonsense of floral phrases and formal words.

“The royal family is gone: Paljor had no heirs. Uwelain was the last of
his
line as well. There are some distant relations, but it would take an extensive effort to track them down.” The Seat paused. “Plus, we have taken the evidence you presented into account while evaluating our situation. The Borden Isles are ready to return to Svieda... but, in the process, we will need you to help rebuild our government. The details of this treaty will need to be worked out further once Sword Prince Maelgyn is healthy enough. We have sent word to your ship requesting your best doctor, and sent the call for the best surgeons in the court, but in the meantime... we wish to ask for your help in establishing an interim government.”

El’Athras snorted. One of the reasons he left Mar’Tok was to avoid just this kind of thing. “Well, what else do we have to do at the moment?”

“Maelgyn, can you hear me?”

Everything hurt, but he was surprisingly still alive. As consciousness returned to him, Maelgyn felt a gentle magic field bathing him in its energy. He momentarily panicked, his last memory of being involved in a fight to the death with a superior magic-using opponent. He was quickly reassured, however.

Calm yourself, young Prince,
Sekhar told him.
This is just the healing touch of your lifemate, under the instructions of several doctors and surgeons. They are trying to help you, but if you move too much you could hurt yourself further.

Nevertheless, Maelgyn tried to open his eyes. Last he could recall, Euleilla was in mortal peril. His memories were quite jumbled, however. Unable to find the strength to even move the muscles of his eyelids, he realized the only way he would find the answers to his questions would be to, well, ask them.

“We’re alone right now,” Euleilla’s voice whispered softly. “But Dr. Wodtke will be here in a moment. I... I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

Is she all right?
he thought to the living weapon. Her voice was wavering more than he would have thought.

Better than you are,
it thought back.
She’s probably a bit tired, since she’s been keeping you from bleeding to death for almost twenty four hours straight, but you were able to save her from anything worse than getting bloo... uh, dirt on her face. You were awake for that, you know.

My mind’s in a bit of a jumble,
Maelgyn admitted.
I don’t even remember... did I win?

Yes. Uwelain was slain, but he was the only casualty among your companions,
Sekhar reported.
I hope
most
of your enemies aren’t that strong.

Maelgyn thought of Hussack, remembering that the Sho’Curlas royal who had assassinated his king was also about Euleilla’s equal... which meant they were probably on par with each other until he learned how to access his full potential regularly. Then again, ‘on par with Euleilla’ was significantly better than what he just faced.
No, I don’t think most of our Human enemies will be quite that strong. It does look like there may be a few Elves we’ll have to fight in the coming years, however, and you know how hard it is to deal with them. They could be harder to fight than Paljor was.

Maybe I made a mistake bonding with you,
Sekhar mused jokingly.
Oh, well, too late now. Maybe we can rest up a bit before we face the next threat, at least.

“You know, in all this time we’ve never consumated our marriage,” Euleilla noted. “You were ill. I was ill. I couldn’t function on the ship. There was too much danger of someone walking into our camp tent. Despite that, I was more worried about your life than I was my own.” She paused. “Right now, I don’t care what else happens. I thought you were going to die – that will not happen again, got it? I won’t have you scaring me like that again.” Another pause. “And when you’re healthy again, I don’t care if we both really are seasick and it’s in broad daylight on board a ship with an audience of hundreds, we are consumating this marriage, got it?” There was a click, and Euleilla stiffened. “Dr. Wodtke’s here. Now, hush.”

Maelgyn would have laughed if it didn’t feel like laughing would kill him. Euleilla had nothing to worry about – he wouldn’t say a word.

“Good, good! It’s probably not your destiny to become a doctor, but at least it looks like I can teach you to patch up your husband when he gets hurt,” the Doctor said.

“Maybe.” It sounded like Euleilla was more tired than he’d realized.

“He’ll be fine. You’ve sealed up all the wounds, and as long as he takes the time to heal they won’t reopen. Just try to keep him from overexerting himself, okay?”