More Than Mortal (49 page)
Authors: Mick Farren
The antagonists were now facing each other on either side of the doorway. Duncanon looked to strike, but found he was impeded by the door frame. He lunged clumsily at Renquist, who parried easily. “The previous owner used it when he assisted in the ritual suicides of three of his friends.”
Renquist parried two more of these lunges. The claymore offered its user very little control of the point, and Duncanon had almost none. He relied entirely on the wide and flamboyant forehand swing. “After that, he
handed it to a fourth knight who used it on him.”
handed it to a fourth knight who used it on him.”
Renquist retreated two more paces, and Duncanon had to follow to get to him. Renquist feinted with the sword and then went for Duncanon’s ribs with the swordstick blade. “Perhaps perversely, it has changed its character since coming into my care. It’s proved itself little short of a good-luck talisman.”
Duncanon hauled off for a horizontal swing intended to finish Renquist, if not actually cleave him in two, but the blow was spoiled when the blade hit the stonework of the narrow corridor. Duncanon cursed as Renquist nicked his left upper arm and danced back. “First blood, boy. Do you believe evil seeks out evil?”
Duncanon drew a dirk from his sock. Now he at least matched Renquist by having a blade in each hand. He rushed him, flailing with the claymore while trying to inflict a stomach wound with the dirk. Now Renquist had to use both blades to full and fast effect to fend off the wild flurry of blows. Duncanon had finally understood how he’d been suckered, and that Renquist was a skilled and experienced swordsman who would not fall beneath a confusion of aimless slashing and brute bravura. He was finally working according to what was possibly the only tactic left to him. Behind Renquist, at the end of the corridor, was the tower’s central stairwell. If Duncanon could load on sufficient berserk pressure, he might be able to force his older adversary all the way down there, and into the more open area where he could properly use the weight and single edge of his claymore.
Renquist knew it was time to stop taunting and go to work. He beat off one more rush by Duncanon, giving a little more ground. He could see Duncanon calculate the distance to the end of the corridor. The young one was telegraphing his every move before he made it. Renquist braced for the next rush. When it came, two blades flying, hungry to connect, Renquist sidestepped like a matador, feinted left, struck right, pierced Duncanon’s thigh with the swordstick, and, with his leg already
weakened, tripped him so he fell heavily. The claymore was lost to his grasp and clattered along the flagstones of the corridor. Duncanon might have lacked forethought and finesse, but Renquist couldn’t fault the young one for courage. Even though bleeding badly, he came back up on his uninjured knee with the dirk still in his hand. He thrust at Renquist but failed to connect. Renquist stood quite still. “I’d recommend you don’t do that again. Surrender now and maybe I’ll let you survive.”
weakened, tripped him so he fell heavily. The claymore was lost to his grasp and clattered along the flagstones of the corridor. Duncanon might have lacked forethought and finesse, but Renquist couldn’t fault the young one for courage. Even though bleeding badly, he came back up on his uninjured knee with the dirk still in his hand. He thrust at Renquist but failed to connect. Renquist stood quite still. “I’d recommend you don’t do that again. Surrender now and maybe I’ll let you survive.”
Typically ignoring the advice, Duncanon again stabbed at Renquist. This time the Bushido blade really did seem to sing, as, in a single stroke, it severed Duncanon’s left hand just above the wrist. “I warned you, boy, and I only give one warning.”
Duncanon stared in disbelief at the way his arm now ended in a bleeding stump.”
“So what is it now? Shall I take your heart or shall I take your head?”
The raised voice of the Lord Fenrior came from somewhere down the stairwell. “I would recommend you do neither, Victor. I still have uses for Duncanon.”
Marieko hurried to Renquist’s side as Fenrior and his entourage reached the landing and started down the corridor toward them.
Renquist lowered his swords and stepped back from the kneeling Duncanon. “You want this thing, even with a hand missing?”
Fenrior brushed the question aside. “He’s undead. It’ll grow back in time. The more important question is what am I supposed to do with you?”
Duncanon dragged himself, using one arm and one leg, to the feet of his lord like a maimed dog seeking its master’s protection. The laird had a quite formidable force behind him. He was flanked on one side by Gallowglass, and Julia Aschenbach on the other. What game had she embarked on now? Julia looked down at the crippled Duncanon and then up at Renquist. “What have
you been up to now, Victor? Aren’t you a little old for swordplay with the youth?”
you been up to now, Victor? Aren’t you a little old for swordplay with the youth?”
Renquist leaned forward on his sword. He looked suddenly tired. First the Merlin and then the fight had obviously taken their toll. “Why don’t you ask the Lord Fenrior? I can only assume he ordered my murder.”
Julia stepped away from Fenrior. “Murder? You said it would only be a distraction.”
“Does Victor look murdered?”
Behind Julia and Gallowglass were a guard of a half dozen Highlanders, armed with pikes and claymores, led by Angus Crimmon, the laird’s piper, and including, yet again, the diminutive Prestwick with his axe. One look at the auras, heavy with suspicion, paranoia, and distrust were enough to tell Marieko that Renquist’s problems, and by association her own, were far from over. All present were doing their best to screen their thoughts and emotions, and achieving varying degrees of success, but the general tone and the militant formality of Fenrior’s arrival didn’t bode well. Crimmon and the guard halted a few feet behind Fenrior, Julia, and Gallowglass—close enough to give aid, but far enough back not to be part of the conversation. Fenrior looked Renquist up and down. “So you’ve started cutting up my people now, have you, Victor?”
“There’s another back in my room separated from his head and a third wandering the halls somewhere, lacking an eye and feeling very sorry for himself.”
Marieko refused to be sidelined as an innocent bystander. “The one in the room is mine. The one called Morbius. I took his head.”
Fenrior treated her to a hard look. “Dr. Morbius was my chief scientific adviser.”
“Dr. Morbius was a self-serving charlatan, my Lord.”
“And that’s why you beheaded him?”
Marieko shook her head. “No. I beheaded him when he attempted to drive an iron stake into Victor. I presume that was on your orders?”
Renquist stared intently at the Lord, seemingly curious to hear the answer to this question. Fenrior looked away. “Duncanon was of the firm opinion you had made a secret agreement with the Merlin, to side with the Urshu against me. I believe it was Morbius who sowed the seeds, however. He seemed to take an instant dislike to you when the Merlin first awoke, and it’s been festering ever since.”
Renquist handed the swordcane blade to Marieko and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. The guards stiffened warily, but they relaxed when no further move followed. “But you didn’t order my assassination?”
“Shall we say I simply reserved judgment and let events take their course? You could look on it as an old-fashioned trial by arms.”
“And what exactly was I on trial for?”
“Morbius had accused you of betraying us to Taliesin. He had seemingly observed your comings and goings, and the secret meetings between the two of you.”
Marieko’s face contracted in anger. “We weren’t supposed to study the Urshu?”
Renquist gestured for her to contain her outrage. “There was the faintest germ of truth in Morbius’s conspiracy fantasy. Already tonight Taliesin has solicited my aid and support against you.”
Fenrior blinked. “Did he now? And did you give it?”
Renquist turned to Marieko. “You were there. Did I pledge myself in any way to the Merlin?”
“No.” Her reply was true to the letter. Renquist had given Taliesin no answer, but that was hardly the entire story. “Victor gave no reply at all.”
Julia knew Renquist well enough, and perhaps Marieko as well, to suspect they were maybe telling the truth, but not the whole truth. “The woman is hardly an unbiased witness. She would obviously do just about anything for Victor.”
Marieko would have happily driven the blade of the swordstick into Julia’s eye just as Victor had done with
Highlander. She clearly was prepared to totally court disaster to thwart anyone who might be a rival for Victor’s attention. Also Julia wasn’t finished. “As we all well know, she was quite prepared to sacrifice one of her own troika to ensure that the Merlin awoke.”
Highlander. She clearly was prepared to totally court disaster to thwart anyone who might be a rival for Victor’s attention. Also Julia wasn’t finished. “As we all well know, she was quite prepared to sacrifice one of her own troika to ensure that the Merlin awoke.”
Marieko took a step toward Julia. “You know it was nothing like that, damn you.”
“It wasn’t? You brought her here, and where is she now?”
“We all know she met the true death when the Urshu lured her to him and drained her energy.”
“You have a lot of nosferatu bodies around you, Marieko Matsunaga. First Columbine and now Morbius. How many more will perish at your hands before this is over?”
Renquist’s aura flared with anger. “If you can’t see the hand of Taliesin in this confusion, you’re all fools.”
Fenrior’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. “Do you call me a fool, sir?”
“You’re worse than a fool if you can’t see what’s happening in your very own domain.”
For a moment it looked as though the Lord himself were going to raise steel to Renquist, but instead, he gestured to Gallowglass. “Have the lads take him.”
Gallowglass nodded. “Aye m’ lord.” He glanced back at the guard. “Lads …”
Pikes were lowered and claymores raised. Fenrior stepped to one side to give his escort free access to Renquist, who raised his sword, obviously unwilling to be taken by the Highlanders without a fight. Then, out of nowhere, Lupo was there. Although certainly part of an illusion, he appeared to rise from the floor right beside Fenrior, but then assumed a solidity and strength far beyond any apparition. Marieko, although she had only spoken to Lupo on the phone—and very briefly—knew it could only be him. The broad back and shoulders, the prominent nose and bull neck, the swarthy complexion, black unknowable eyes, and aura of total and uncompromising
invincibility. Having now seen him, Marieko could easily believe he had been created by the Craft, and, indeed, that all the other legends about him were absolutely true. And better than just being there, Lupo held what had to be the complete, state-of-the-art, high-tech, ergonomically balanced, butterfly Solignem fighting knife, undoubtedly with a honed and razor edge, to Fenrior’s throat, and with Lupo’s inhuman strength behind it, the weapon could certainly all but sever the lord’s neck.
invincibility. Having now seen him, Marieko could easily believe he had been created by the Craft, and, indeed, that all the other legends about him were absolutely true. And better than just being there, Lupo held what had to be the complete, state-of-the-art, high-tech, ergonomically balanced, butterfly Solignem fighting knife, undoubtedly with a honed and razor edge, to Fenrior’s throat, and with Lupo’s inhuman strength behind it, the weapon could certainly all but sever the lord’s neck.
“Should I finish him now, Don Victor?”
Renquist wanted to laugh out loud. Lupo! At the moment when all seemed about to unravel violently and fatally—Lupo! His very presence was both a comfort and a delight, and Renquist felt irrationally buoyant. From there on in, all problems were reduced by at least fifty percent. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“I’ve been in this place almost as long as you have, Don Victor. It finally seemed the time to reveal myself.”
“I’m very pleased you did.”
Fenrior’s head was twisted away from Lupo and the knife at an odd and probably painful angle. “Would you please ask your friend to take the dagger from my throat, Victor? I feel very uncomfortable like this.”
“You better let him go, Lupo.”
Lupo didn’t immediately release Fenrior. “He has already committed one assault on your person, Don Victor, and was seemingly about to commit another. Letting him survive could set an unfortunate precedent.”
Fenrior attempted to placate with actually groveling. “Believe me, this is not something I’d want made public either.”
“I think we can allow for extenuating circumstances here, Lupo.”
“You mean Taliesin the Urshu?”
“You know about the Merlin?”
Lupo gave his don a dark look. “My greater concern is whether he knows about me.”
“I think we all share some variety of that concern.”
Fenrior was becoming about as impatient as was possible for a man with a knife at his throat. “Please, Victor.”
“Let him go, Lupo.”
“You’re sure?”
“I believe so.”
Lupo stepped away from Fenrior, at the same time folding the knife away with a single deft and oft-practiced movement into a concealed sheath strapped to his forearm under his black combat-style jacket. Fenrior touched his throat with exploratory fingers in search of blood or broken skin, although all that showed was a faint red mark where the cutting edge had been pressed against the flesh over the jugular. Then he turned away and removed his dark glasses to wipe his face, but he replaced them before anyone could see his eyes. “I take it we talk?”
Renquist nodded. “Bearing in mind the Merlin is probably eavesdropping on every possible word and thought.”
“We will meet. In an hour. In the Great Hall, to finally settle the fate of Taliesin.”
Renquist’s laugh was short and ironic. “Or for him to settle our fate?”
“He won’t be there.”
“He doesn’t need to be there. It’s my opinion that he’s playing us like puppets.”
Fenrior looked from Lupo to Marieko and finally to Renquist. “It’s been a very long time since anyone held a knife to my throat under my own roof.”
“And, for the first time, you have an Urshu under your roof. These happenings would appear to beg for correlation.”
Other books
Mate of the Alpha by Marie Mason
Unthinkable by Kenneth M. Pollack
The Hero’s Sin by Darlene Gardner
A Doubter's Almanac by Ethan Canin
The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult
Gloria Oliver by Cross-Eyed Dragon Troubles
Maxwell Street Blues by Marc Krulewitch
Fire Sea by Margaret Weis
Wanted by Her Lost Love by Maya Banks
