The Ancient Ones (The Legacy Trilogy Book 3) (40 page)

‘Y-yes,’ stammered Pradmet, devastated by the thought.

Samuel pushed back his chair and they left Pradmet without farewell. Leopold hurried after the magician and they returned down the hallway from where they had come.

‘Is it wise to get him so worked up, Lord Samuel?’ Leopold asked. ‘You could have used a little more tact.’

‘Perhaps not wise, Leopold, but I am in a hurry. It will force him to make a choice now, rather than dither about all day trying to make up his mind. If he decides poorly, I suspect we will shortly find out.’

‘But what about the Koians? Won’t you help them? Won’t you free their Empress Moon?’

‘I will not. I will let Lady Wind take care of her own affairs. All I want is the Temple. That will be trouble enough. I suspect it will not be handed over as simply as I wish. Pradmet is not in command here. He may think he is, but someone else definitely does not want me to find it.’

‘Who?’ Leopold asked with interest.

‘We will find out. Pradmet’s mind was shielded from my efforts to view it. It was a capable effort. I gleaned very little from him, and only when he was upset.’

‘Prithamon?’

‘Or another we have not yet encountered.’

‘Could he be even stronger than you? I mean, if you could not get past his spell ...’

The suggestion was an insult. ‘Even a simpleton can jam his finger in a keyhole to stop someone peering through it, Leopold. That does not make them stronger, or wiser.’

‘But even a simpleton can remove said finger with a pin,’ Leopold replied, smug. ‘A wise man would surely think of that.’

The magician glared. ‘Enough of your feeble wisdom, boy. I’m always right. Get used to it.’

They returned to the murder room, where everyone was waiting patiently. The women were still roped in a line, hesitant to shed their disguise as slaves.

‘What happened?’ Orrell asked, hurrying over to meet them.

‘We can leave,’ Samuel said in response.

‘What do you mean?’ Lady Wind asked, still tied amongst the others. ‘What did you do? Did you kill him?’

‘Even if I killed him, the true leader would simply place another pawn into power. Let us go. I’m sure you have much of the information you need about their defences. You can organise your rebellion at your leisure.’ He glanced towards the empty balcony above them, as if in expectation that something might appear at any moment.

‘We will not leave!’ Phoenix hissed, before restraining her voice. ‘We came here to kill that tyrant, and we will! This is our best chance. He is only beyond the entry hall. We can reach him quickly and easily if we act now! Our losses will be slight.’

‘Very well,’ Samuel said. ‘If that is what you wish. I am leaving. You can stay and do as you please.’

A groan of steel was the only warning as the thick doors that led to the throne room clanged shut. The main door followed, sealing them in with a resounding boom. Orrell’s men drew their swords instinctively.

‘Well,’ Samuel said. ‘It looks like someone has indeed chosen poorly, deciding to test my threats. Very well.’ He eyed Phoenix squarely. ‘It looks like you will have your chance to kill Pradmet, should you live through this.’

A shuffling sounded from above them as Eudan soldiers rushed out to line the balcony along all four walls of the room. Each carried a loaded crossbow—each bolt capable of punching through the stoutest of armour at such short range—and they pointed their weapons menacingly. There was little delay. A command was called and the crossbowmen opened fire.

Leopold could not follow what happened next. He heard the clatter of mechanisms releasing and, immediately after, a rapid series of thuds. Remarkably, wonderfully, he did not die.

He swallowed twice, collecting himself enough to realise he was still alive. His mind rolled back, feverishly shoving events into correct order, witnessing the missiles launching, turning aside in mid-air and burying themselves into the walls.

Feathered shafts protruded from the stonework like dark hairs. Chunks of bleached mortar had sprayed out and now littered the floor around their feet.

Leopold felt panic overcoming him, but everyone else remained calm. Jessicah watched anxiously, straining at her bonds, while Leopold was still trying to determine if he had any bolts protruding from him.

The crossbowmen now ducked behind cover to re-tension their weapons, quickly replaced by swordsmen. They climbed over the side barrier and dropped from the balcony, landing heavily on the lower floor. Orrell’s men did not waste time watching, as did Leopold, and darted in and killed as many as they could before the Eudans raised their swords. Many were slain, but more kept coming, emerging from hidden doorways around the balcony and dropping wherever they saw opportunity. Steel rang on steel and Eudans wailed.

The party was forced to gather in the centre of the room. They had no wall to put at their backs, such was the intention of the room.

Leopold readied his father’s blade and took an unsure step, but Lord Samuel’s hand held him firmly by the back of his shirt.

‘Stand still,’ the magician told him.

One of the crossbowmen opened fire and a bolt hammered down beside Leopold’s foot. Leopold passed Samuel a wild and questioning expression, for another step forward and he would have been killed; but the magician was stone-faced, busy watching the battle unfold.

‘Watch out!’ Leopold warned, for Orrell’s elite had been drawn to one side of the chamber. The women, tied and bound, were unprotected, Eudans dropping beside them. He tried to rush to their aid, but again the magician’s grip remained firm.

He could only watch as the Eudans closed in upon the helpless women, yelling with bloodlust and raising their square-ended blades. He thought it would be their end, that he would be forced to witness them hacked to death. He struggled and wailed, pointing out the threat that everyone else was ignoring.

The Koian women, however, were far from helpless and far from unprepared. As the Eudan blades descended, the women snapped their bonds with a single flick of each of their wrists, simultaneously, as if prompted by some invisible signal. Leopold was sure the rope had been sound and the knots tight—he had tested them himself. It did not seem possible they could break free so easily. Only Jessicah and Lady Wind were left standing flat-footed, with Jessicah staring at the frayed rope dangling from her wrists, sharing Leopold’s surprise. Lady Wind was calm, observing with satisfaction.

The eight young Koian women exploded from their bindings, leaping into the faces of the Eudans and striking them with their bare hands. They were incredible, lightning released from a bottle, and they commenced felling Eudan swordsmen with bone-shattering fury. Fear blossomed across the Eudans’ faces as they realised what had been unleashed.

‘They are Koian warriors from the mountains, Leopold,’ the magician explained, responding to the young Emperor’s hanging jaw. ‘They do not need any help from us. They can protect themselves and Jessicah and Lady Wind, and probably Captain Orrell and his men, too, if need be. You just have to worry about staying with me and keeping out of trouble. Don’t go swinging that sword around and taking your eye out. I am too busy to mother you, so stay close.’

Crossbow bolts continued to fly, accompanied by the sudden clank of the weapons that launched them. Each missile struck an invisible barrier before it could near, spinning end-over-end to the ground. The room was full of shouts and the blare of battle, the screams of agony as swords entered flesh. Only the Koian women fought quietly, only the sound of their breath moving in and out, gliding like dancers amongst the chaos, ducking and turning effortlessly amidst the fray, letting each man they touched drop to the floor as if swooning from their beauty.

The air in the room, hot already, filled with the heat and smells of battle. The stench of something vile wafted from the grating above them, and Leopold half-expected boiling oil to rain down. Samuel also looked up, and a clatter sounded from out of sight, followed by screams. The magician lowered his gaze once again, without hurry, and that seemed to end the prospect of that.

‘Why don’t you just kill them all?’ Leopold asked, aghast as the carnage waged on. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘There is more happening here than you can judge with your dim-witted eyes, Leopold,’ the magician replied. ‘Their sorcerers attack and I am doing my best to keep them busy while stopping us from being boiled or skewed or slain in a dozen different ways. I am also hoping to draw out whoever is in command. I would like to see you try to do ten things at once, Leopold, perhaps even one thing properly. Now stop nattering so I can concentrate.’

There was a metallic ringing of steel as the last Eudan amongst them dropped his butt-ended sword and slumped dead to the floor. The Eudans ceased sending down more men, granting them some respite.

Perhaps thirty of the dark-skinned men lay dead, covering the floor, while only one of Orrell’s men was injured, nursing a gash on his sword arm.

‘Amateurs!’ Captain Orrell declared, wet with sweat, blood sprayed across his face. He cleared his throat and spat on the floor.

‘Damn them!’ came a shout from above—the voice of Pradmet—and a flash of white cloth could be briefly seen as he escaped back out of view. ‘Kill them quickly! Kill the magician first!’

From the unseen doors at the ends of the balcony, more men appeared. This time they were unarmed, olive-skinned Koians. Leopold recognised three of them from the street, including the wild-eyed one. The rest looked nearly as mean, muscled and determined to commit violence. They leapt out far from the balcony—not dropping themselves gingerly like the Eudan men—and landed amongst the Koian women as light as feathers, readied for battle, as if vaulting down from such a height was child’s play.

The Koian women put their backs to each other with Lady Wind and Jessicah at their middle, and they held their fists readied, their knuckles white, their faces fierce and defiant.

Leopold shuddered to think he may have insulted the women earlier and ended up like one of these Eudans broken on the floor. He had probably escaped quite lightly with only the bruising to his ego. No wonder they found his swordsmanship laughable.

For an instant, the Koian warrior men and younger women faced off against each other. Then, together, they leapt into motion.

The men stepped in and the women met them. Their hands danced circles around each other, and their feet slid smoothly, making ovals and lines gracefully upon the stones. It seemed unreasonable they were fighting, for at first no blows were struck. There was no contact at all as they measured each other, inching closer towards contact with each attempt. The men made as little noise as the women, simply setting themselves to the task of battle as if it were of no great importance, fists striking like vipers.

The attacks became faster, stronger, creeping closer, and the graceful motions became interspersed with desperate ones as the intensity increased. Then, contact could be avoided no longer, and both sides parried and blocked, meeting each other’s flesh for the first time, slamming their arms and legs against each other to deflect incoming blows.

It had seemed frantic until that point, but now the battle became wilder; a blurred flurry of movement, unrestrained violence and intent to kill. Effort was plain on the faces of both sides. The men breathed heavily and the women grew ruddy in the cheeks.

That being said, the women were not at all outmatched by the men, despite their smaller frames. They skilfully turned every punch and kick aside with a palm or shin or forearm, diverting the blows with a minimum of effort. They struck back with equal fury, with fist and foot and elbow—indeed, every part of their bodies seemed like weapons, sometimes clawing or poking with their fingers or striking with their heads. Grunts of exertion accompanied each attack; from Phoenix especially, who flew like a storm, bellowing with exertion. Just the sight of her put fear into Leopold, but her noise was further disturbing.

She landed a solid blow to one of the men and the male warrior fell back with a torrent of blood jetting from between his lips. He choked and clutched at his chest, before collapsing backwards onto the floor. She took no time to gloat in her victory and joined one of her colleagues who was failing.

‘These women are impressive,’ Samuel said, taking a moment to admire the display. ‘They obviously did not lose their edge while on the island. The men, however, seemed to have grown soft from the spoils of their new masters. None of them are even close to the league of Horse. I must say I am disappointed.’

Leopold was about to ask Who is this Horse? when one of the women, Arrow, gave a broken shriek and fell to the floor with her neck at an obscene angle. The others fought on, taking note of her fate and continuing without hesitation, showing no distress from her death. Leopold was aghast at the sight, but there was nothing he could do. His father’s sword, still in his hand, may have well as been a feather duster for all he could do with it.

One of Orrell’s men spied a male Koian warrior within reach, and took a swipe at his back. The Koian slapped the man’s sword out of his hand and returned it into his chest in one uninterrupted movement, never pausing from his assault upon the women. The Turian fell to the floor, gasping and spouting blood from the wound.

Captain Orrell ducked beside him, but could not stem the flow. The soldier gasped his last breath and was still.

Another Koian male slammed his fist into the forearm of a woman and she staggered away clutching the limb, unable to move her fingers. In that instant, the male took advantage of the break in the defence and covered the distance from there to Leopold in the blink of an eye. The wind from his fist blew in Leopold’s face, but the Koian warrior fell dead at his feet, the front of his throat crushed inwards. Samuel had shoved his fingers into the man’s neck, abruptly ending the threat.

The magician could move blindingly fast when required, somehow shifting from place to place without effort. Once again, why he did not do more to help with the battle, Leopold could not guess, but it was that same moment when the magician read his thoughts and proved him wrong.