The Lost Prince (62 page)

The sorcerer drove Cal back up the center hall to the north side, out of sight of Cat hanging on for dear life. Lelani, still in view, was bleeding out on the floor. She would die soon without attention. Cal tried to think of a way to help them, but Dorn’s barrage forced him to concentrate on the fight.

Behind Cal was Kraten’s body by the window, and nearby was his police shield. Cal cursed himself for having dropped it. He really needed it now, but there was no way to pick it up without exposing himself.

Dorn did not need sorcery to feed his arrogance; had he been a common knight, he would have won tourneys and glories by his art with the blade. Cal’s defenses were crucial. Each blow was crippling. If he failed to block or parry once, it would be devastating. And still, half his mind was with the mother of his child dangling seventy stories above the city. Dorn drove him back with perfect form, elbows slightly bent, never overreaching: cut, swing, cut, thrust, swing, parry, parry—the two men danced, graceful as the ballet but without the fancy flourishes. This was pure business.

Cal’s armor saved him on a few strikes, whereas Dorn fought in his custom-made Façonnable dress shirt and was not touched once.

“Yield and I will give you a quick death. You have my word,” Dorn promised.

“You’re still a little demented, Farrenheil,” Cal said, trying to sound less winded than he actually was. “I’m still standing. Why quit now?”

Dorn renewed his attack, switching effortlessly between the two blades. He’d turn suddenly for a deeper reach with the long sword and a thinner target as he presented his profile to the captain. Every time Cal tried to take advantage of that pose, Dorn would prance out of the way. It was like trying to skewer a lively wiggling worm. Cal was mindful of his distance to his opponent … their swords were roughly the same length, but Dorn was not shy about coming into Cal’s guard. Cal kept trying to get some range on the man, but he continued to pull and push, manipulating Cal like the moon influences the tide.

Dorn faked a horizontal cut that turned into an impossibly quick downward swing. He caught Cal’s brawny wrist in a compromising angle, spun the knight’s blade and unarmed him. Cal’s sword fell a few feet away. Dorn immediately went for the thrust to the gut. Cal jumped back, and Dorn’s blade only glanced his armor, but it put the cop off balance and he stumbled backward. Dorn lunged and swung—Cal hustled backward on arms and legs as sword strike after strike smashed into the floor next to his limbs. He was running out of floor when he heard the sweetest sound come from behind Dorn.

“Turn around and face an armed man, you pribbling, dog-hearted, flax wench,” said a voice that sounded very much like Malcolm Robbe.

Dorn swiveled quickly out of Cal’s way to reveal Malcolm, busted up, bloodied, broken nosed, and broken armed, but still holding a big ax in his good hand.

“A dwarv?” said Dorn, dripping with contempt.

“Malcolm Robbe, you’re lordship,” Mal said in mock etiquette. “I see your magic’s gone … I thought I’d shove my ax up your arse.”

Run, you fool,
thought Cal. Even in the best of health, Mal was no match for Dorn, magic or otherwise. As though reading his thoughts, Mal backed away quickly instead of engaging Lord Dorn, drawing the man away and giving Cal the second he needed to reclaim his sword.

Dorn easily caught up with Malcolm, who blocked a vertical thrust with his ax. Cal attacked Dorn from behind, and the sorcerer switched into a new pattern, fighting them both off with impossible grace and accuracy. Malcolm and Cal spent as much time on defense as they did attacking the bastard.

“I’d hate to see what he’s like without the bloody injured ankle,” Mal shouted across the room. They maneuvered until Mal and Cal were together again and Dorn backed both of them up against the north wall.

“Nowhere to go,” Dorn said, victorious.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” Mal quipped.

They heard a twang, whoosh, and a thud. Dorn cried out as an arrow lodged into his right shoulder blade.

Lelani clopped into view from the hallway. Another arrow was notched to go, but the bow shook in her hands under the tension. She was drained of color and struggling to stay conscious. Dorn shifted his defensive stance, rotating to keep all three in his sight. Mal spread to Dorn’s right and Cal to his left.

“How?” asked Cal.

“You didn’t think I came back, saw the girl bleeding out and your wife hanging by a fingernail, and would help you first?” Malcolm said incredulously. “I knew you’d hold it together.”

“That’s flattering,” Cal said.

Cat came out of the darkness of the corner behind Dorn. A shot of fear went through Cal, and he was about to tell her to get out of the building, when he noticed the automatic in her hand—likely something she found in Dorn’s duffel bag. She slid the rack to chamber a round. Dorn turned with a start when he realized someone was behind him. She pointed the pistol at him. He looked like a trapped animal.

Dorn began to laugh. For a moment, Cal thought the insanity had returned, but it turned out to be the laugh of prideful superiority in the face of defeat.

“You think you’ve won?” said Dorn. “Vanquished the evil villain and saved your kingdom. But you’ve lost. You come at me with mongrels—centaurs and dwarvs. You don’t know it yet, but soon enough you will—again at the mercy of others who will not care about your high-minded notions of brotherhood and peace. Ten thousand years of progress—of safety in our own homes—squandered away to these … these ANIMALS!”

“Hypocrite,” said Mal. “You have gnolls, frost giants, and a troll working for you.”

“As my vassals! Not my equals! Symian despised his father’s people. He would have worked harder to destroy the trolls than any man in my indenture. They are not peers. They were a means to an end.”

“Where are they now?” Cat said, eerily monotone. “You’re all alone. None of them wanted to stay … to be loyal. They were afraid of you … needed a paycheck. They failed you because you utterly failed them. You treat others like pieces on chessboard. How can you lead when you don’t respect those who follow you? How can you govern when you don’t look after all your people? You treat everybody like shit. Despots—trash with money and thugs.”

“Silence!” Dorn barked. He took a step toward Cat.

The gun cracked. Dorn went down on one knee and dropped the sword from his good arm to brace himself. She had put a bullet in his thigh.

“How dare you!” Dorn cried. “Wretched commoner! You are not worthy!”

“Cat?” said Cal, with some alarm.

“Our villages are filled with refugees because of your treachery,” Lelani chimed in. She was shaky and the loss of blood gave her flesh a sallow tone. The shaft slipped out of her grip and into Dorn’s other shoulder blade. He cried out again. Dorn looked like a deformed angel with very long wing scapulars with tiny feathers at the ends.

“Pardon,” she said, in anything but sorrowful tone.

“You are not worthy to strike the likes of me!” Dorn cried. “I yield to Captain MacDonnell.” He dropped his last sword with a clang on the ground and placed his hands in open surrender.

“Yield?” asked Cat. “What does that mean?”

“He surrendered,” Cal said. “Put down the gun,” he asked cautiously.

“What?” Cat said.

“The man yielded.”

Cat’s face screwed up to defend from what she was hearing. Her eyes were red and tears streamed down her cheeks. “If he gets his hands on magic again, he will kill us all.”

“My lord,” Lelani said. “The golems.” She indicated out the window.

“I can’t live like that,” Cat said.

“You said incapacitating him would stop them,” Cal said to Lelani.

“This is forbidden magic. One cannot be sure how many will live on. But if he were dead…”

“Yes, MacDonnell,” said Dorn scornfully. “Take orders from your centaur witch. She has you thinking you command here, but really, no. I hope you like the taste of hoof. Get used to it.”

Cal thought about what Dorn knew … the size of Farrenheil’s invasion force, the wizards involved, and the strategies. The man had yielded. He was due privileges of protection. Cal turned to Malcolm, who was using his ax for support at this point.

“We’re barely standing,” Malcolm said. “He wouldn’t think twice of slitting any of our throats. The minute he has magic—”

“Spare me!” cried Dorn, disgusted. He looked to MacDonnell. “A dwarv, a centaur, and an alien woman that you unwittingly married are compelling you to turn your back on your chivalry—on your HONOR—to kill a nobleman that has yielded to you in battle. Are you a captain of Aandor, or a whipped, befuddled fool MacDonnell?”

Cat grew agitated. “You kidnapped me—separated me from my family…,” she said through gritted teeth. “Murdered Erin Ramos, threatened my daughter, wrecked my house, blew up half of Manhattan…”

“Cat…,” Cal warned.

“He
stole
my
babies
!” Cat screamed, rubbing the spot on her stomach where Dorn had cut into her. “Those first monsters you killed—they were part of me!” she cried.

Cal identified with his wife’s rage. For all that Cat had been put through … the violation to her body, it was his own rage as well. Cal felt her suffering and struggled to not execute Dorn at that moment. It went against all he believed in. “But … in cold blood,” Cal said weakly.

“He is cold blood,” Cat said. “Mutilator of helpless children. He’s a reptile.”

“Kind words, Lady MacDonnell,” Dorn said. “This is the price I pay for showing you mercy? For not taking the unborn child in your womb?”

“Mercy…?” Cat said, in shock.

Dorn picked up his short sword and pointed it toward Cat. “If you’ll not protect me from your wench MacDonnell, I’ll do so myself. I should have ripped all the life from your bowels and left you for dead when I had the chance!”

Cat shot Dorn in the forehead right above the eyes. The side of his head bloated out with a crunch as the bullet pushed brain tissue outward. He crumpled to the floor on top of his sword. His leg jittered for a moment, and then ceased along with the rest of him.

“That should cure your fucking headaches,” Cat said. She was still pointing the gun at him, shaking.

Cal walked over to her slowly and gently took the gun away. He clicked the safety on and put his arms around his wife. She rested against him.

“You going to arrest me?” she said, as her legs gave way. Cal bore her weight on his arm. He sheathed his sword and lifted Cat in both arms like a child.

The three rickety cohorts slowly shuffled to the stairs, then exhausted and thinking better of it, decided to risk the elevator. It dinged on arrival. The doors opened, and a very scared Seth Raincrest was in the box, holding his staff before him like a spear.

“Holy shit,” he said, upon seeing the four of them. “When Dorn stopped fighting back, I thought for sure you guys were dead.” Seth saw Cat in Callum’s arms and added, “Is she…”

“She’s fine,” Cal said. “Finally crawled out from under your rock, huh? Thanks for nothing.”

“What?” Seth said. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“My lord, Seth is the one who engaged Dorn with the lightning,” Lelani said.

Cal looked at Lelani, then Seth, with disbelief. “The idiot?” he said.

Seth aimed his staff at Cal. “That’s it! I’m done…”

Lelani jumped between them. Annoyed, she said to Cal, “Seth was brilliant. I could not have fought off Dorn’s attack. He saved my life. He saved all our lives.”

“Good work, kid,” said Mal, and slapped Seth on the butt, sportsstyle, as he got into the car.

Cal didn’t like the awkward position he found himself in. Gratitude to the idiot…? What was the world coming to? He softened his glare and nodded to Seth. “Well, okay then,” he said. He joined Seth in the elevator. “Thanks.”

“Are there a lot of beasties still on the ground?” Malcolm asked.

“They’re falling apart—dissolving into some kind of gas,” Seth said.

“A few golems may escape Dorn’s death to become beings in their own right,” Lelani warned. “The random nature of exponential magic.”

The three men and Cat headed down; Lelani remained behind, waiting for an empty car.

“Mal, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you still alive?” Cal asked. “Hesz threw you out of a seventy-story window.”

“Never hit bottom,” Mal said. “Eagle broke my fall … one of the chrome nickel-steel guardian gargoyles on the corner of the sixty-first floor. Steel has always been a dwarv’s best friend. I nearly bounced off the damn thing, but managed to get my small ax into it and held on for dear life. I’ll have to cut the owners a check to repair it.”

“Why not just buy the whole damn building?” Seth joked.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mal quipped, seriously contemplating it. “It’s quite lovely.”

CHAPTER 53

WITH APOLOGIES

The blood-red graphic read
ATTACK ON NEW YORK
as the reporter tried to explain the fantastic events of the day. Every conceivable explanation was thrown at the viewer: terrorist attack, hallucinogenics in the steam that seeped out of the streets, wilding gangs gone feral … all other television programming had been suspended as every channel with a news department plastered the airwaves with coverage of the chaos in Manhattan. Strangely absent from that coverage were actual pictures of the golems themselves.

Lelani and Rosencrantz took an already existing sorcery that removed ink from parchments—mostly to remove spells from grimoires, signatures from contracts—and built upon it until they were sure it could work on digital and photographic sources. It was a testament to Lelani’s genius that she was able to concoct such a thing, as Rosencrantz had never heard of video or television. Rosencrantz contributed the global reach of the spell, ensuring that every device be affected. Add to that, no physical trace of any monsters and what you had left looked like mass hysteria and peoples’ bad behavior. The centaur and the tree wizard would stay on top of the situation and neutralize any forensic proof of magic or the creatures as they popped up. It might take weeks, but she assured Cal that it could be done.