Too Many Princes (84 page)

Margura made a kind of shrug, fighting Therula's grip.
“
Get off,
”
she snarled,
“
or you might get hurt after all.
”

“
I won't let you touch her,
”
Therula cried as they struggled for the knife.
“
Help me, someone! Help—Pikarus!
”

Immediately, Therula heard the rattle of the door behind her.
“
Sister?
”
came Cliodora's trembling voice.

“
Get help!
”
Therula shouted.

Margura cursed, trying to throw Therula off. The princess held on with all her strength, but Margura was stronger. She shoved and sent Therula staggering away. As she did, candlelight flashed off the blade on her hand.

Cliodora screamed at the sight of it, her shrill voice piercing even the rumble of combat in the hallway. Therula glanced around and saw her little sister doing a frantic dance in the doorway. Courtiers, concubines and servants crowded behind her, trying to see what was happening. Cliodora continued to shriek hysterical nonsense words.

“
Move! Let someone in,
”
Therula wailed, exasperated. Then,
“
Oh, no!
”

Margura had stepped backward, assessing the situation. Her lovely face hardened into an ugly mask. She whirled and lunged at Oskar with the knife held high.

“
The king!
”
Therula cried. She leapt after Margura, knowing she would be too slow, too late.

There was a sharp report, a blinding flash and wave of searing heat. Therula stumbled against the bed, clasping her hands to her ears. Through the haze in front of her eyes, she saw Margura slumped on the floor. The knife lay nearby, its blade blackened and wooden handle smoking. Oskar remained propped up in the bed, still unconscious, unaware how close death had come.

* * *

Silence fell over Bloody Square. Only the battering ram pounded on, monotonous in its destructive intent. For a long moment, everyone stared at the monster on the wall. Men who had never seen a real dragon before stood thunderstruck, speechless. Lottres sensed the mind of Ymell within the great beast. Ymell glared down at Ysislaw, who gave him back eye for eye. Lottres could feel their emotions like a hot mist in the air. No words were adequate to express the long centuries of their enmity. Ymell roared, and the very stones vibrated with the force of his hatred.

The result was predictable. Soldiers cursed and ran, or ducked behind their shields. Horses screamed in panic, including Lottres's mount. The bald-faced gelding reared and shook his head, fighting Lottres's hand on the reins. Only Brastigan's gray seemed immune to the screaming, bucking frenzy that gripped the beasts. Being of Yriatt's company, it must have been accustomed to a dragon's presence.

“
There is your enemy.
”
Ysislaw's voice rose over the chaos.
“
Archers, fire! Shoot the monster down!
”

“
No, he's on our side,
”
Brastigan countered.
“
Habrok, stop them!
”

“
Hold, men of Crutham!
”
Habrok bellowed.

It did little good; Ysislaw's command fit too well with everyone's gut reaction. Arrows filled the air, a cloud as black as the smoke that rose from the gate. Ymell reared back, wings sweeping wide open. More cries of panic came, especially from the soldiers in the gate's towers, but none of the arrows touched the dragon.

“
What was that for?
”
Ymell asked. He blew out a scornful breath, and arrows fell to the cobbles with a rattle like hail. Ysislaw did not reply answer, but continued exhorting the soldiers to shoot.

“
There, there, there,
”
Lottres crooned, trying to control his hysterical horse. Just as he had done in Altannath, he poured a feeling of calm into the animal's mind.
“
There, there, there.
”

When he finally quieted the beast, Lottres was facing away from Ysislaw and Brastigan. Thus he heard the shouts as the bone men reached the barricades. The battle had been creeping closer, street by bloody street. For a moment, Lottres felt as panicked as his horse.

“
Brastigan! Habrok!
”
he cried with mind as well as voice.
“
They're here!
”

Both men jerked around. Brastigan scowled at the interruption. Lottres could feel his brother's mind see-sawing between this new emergency and the ongoing confrontation with Ysislaw. Habrok reacted a little faster.

“
We will speak more of this,
”
Habrok told Ysislaw. He reached forward to seize the banner of Crutham from the startled bearer. Habrok bellowed,
“
Crutham, to me! Man the barricades! The black tower will never fall!
”

With a massed shout, the Cruthan soldiers rushed to follow Habrok. Oskar might be king, but Habrok was a known and trusted leader. They followed him without hesitation.

Ysislaw showed no reaction to the defection. Perhaps he was even glad of it. Lottres sensed Ysislaw gathering his resources. His gaze was fixed on Ymell, whose huge shadow plunged the courtyard into even deeper gloom.

Like Brastigan, Lottres didn't know what to do. Habrok needed them, yet he was afraid to turn his back on Ysislaw. He also feared Brastigan might attack the tyrant and get himself killed.

“
Maen?
”
Lottres looked to the wall, hoping Ymell would give some guidance.

“
Not now,
”
Ymell answered curtly.

As Lottres watched, the dragon wizard kicked off the wall. He hovered a moment, falling in on himself like an empty sack. Wings shrank into robes, and great claws into feet. Ymell glided downward, shrinking as he came, until he set down lightly in his human guise.

“
Give up,
”
Ysislaw said. He spoke to Ymell, yet his words burned Lottres like hot embers. Lottres quickly threw up his mental shield.

“
Never,
”
Ymell answered with fierce resolve.
“
I will no longer permit you to meddle with humans. Nor to harm my loved ones. The time has come to end this.
”

Ysislaw gave an arrogant laugh.
“
Let us see, then, who will have his end.
”

“
Let us see,
”
Ymell agreed.

He raised his hands slightly. Lightning blazed, forming a shield around the horned man. Lottres sensed Ysislaw's power gathering in response. The very air around him shuddered with unseen fires.

Lottres felt Ysislaw's attack as a wave of pure force. The two wizards grappled, mind-to-mind, in an invisible combat. Even Lottres could hardly follow it. Still, he knew that Brastigan was sitting much too close to the action.

“
Bras,
”
Lottres hissed, hoping Ysislaw was too busy to notice.

The struggle at the barricades wasn't going well. Lottres heard the crash of steel and cries of the wounded. Swordsmen hacked at the oncoming foes with all their might. In the butcher shops along the street, their brother Miswald had his archers pouring streams of arrows into the advancing bone men. It made little difference. Lottres knew all too well how hard it was to keep those cursed creatures down.

“
Bras, let's go.
”
Lottres reached out to grab his brother's elbow.
“
There's nothing we can do here. Ymell will handle Ysislaw. Habrok needs us.
”

Brastigan seemed to shake himself. Lottres felt his brother's reluctance as he turned his horse toward Habrok's position. Brastigan drew his sword. Lottres concentrated, summoning his own power. In Altannath, Shaelen had taught him to make his arrows explode. He ought to be able to the same for Miswald's arrows, if he could get a clear view.

“
I think not.
”

Lottres gave a choked cry as Ysislaw's presence shattered his barriers and flooded his mind.

“
What is it?
”
Brastigan demanded. Lottres barely heard.

“
Hold your hand, Ymell.
”
Ysislaw's voice in Lottres’s mind was rich with triumph.
“
This is your
eppagadrocca
, is it not? Stand down, or I will crush his heart.
”

Lottres gave a strangled cry. He couldn't move. His horse bolted, and he was jerked out of the saddle. Pressure squeezed Lottres's chest, so it was a struggle even to breathe.

“
I do not hold slaves,
”
Ymell replied. His guard didn't waver.
“
Release him.
”

“
Leave him alone!
”
Brastigan yelled. He charged past Lottres with Victory held high.

“
No!
”
Lottres croaked.
“
Stay back!
”

Ysislaw made a bored, swatting gesture. Brastigan's horse shrieked and tumbled to the ground. Lottres watched in horror, fearing his brother would be crushed by the animal's weight.

“
Do you care for these children?
”
Ysislaw gloated.
“
Surrender, Ymell. Crutham is mine. Your grandson and your
eppagadrocca
are mine. You have no hope.
”

Ymell stood silent, struggling with feelings Lottres could only guess at.

The gray mare lurched to her feet. She limped a few steps and stood with ears flattened, one rear hoof raised in the threat of a kick. Brastigan rolled on the pavement, groping for Victory, but Lottres felt Ysislaw's power reach out with brutal force. His will pinned Brastigan to the pavement.

“
What shall be their fate?
”
Ysislaw taunted
.
“
I hold their lives in my hands. Choose, Ymell.
”

Lottres, suspended in the air, felt his chest constrict ever tighter. Darkness closed in on his vision. Yet no matter what happened, Ymell had to protect Crutham.

“
Maen, don't listen!
”
Lottres cried.

“
Oh, be quiet,
”
Ysislaw said with casual malice.

Lottres reached out frantically for the only one who could help them.

“
Maess!
”
he cried. Yriatt must be here. He had seen her flying.

Lottres was surprised to hear an answering roar from very nearby. He looked up through another gust of smoky wind. Yriatt glided behind the towers of the gate. Flames leaped from the opposite side of the wall, putting Yriatt and the gate into silhouette. The ram's drumming suddenly stopped.

Yriatt landed on the wall, exactly where Ymell had been. Fire billowing from her mouth.

“
Die,
”
she said.

Ysislaw turned toward her, raising a protective shield. As he did, he let the two princes go. With a startled cry, Lottres dropped toward the pavement. He fell hard, struck his head, and knew no more.

* * *

Brastigan fought the irresistible force that pressed him down against the cobblestones. He felt like an insect beneath a man's boot. It seemed impossible to free himself. Then, suddenly, he could move again. Brastigan rolled over, snatching Victory from the pavement. He stayed low and looked around.

Ysislaw stood b
l
ack against the dragon's flames, which stopped against an unseen barrier. Incredibly, he was laughing. Yriatt's fires died away, and Ymell's lightning crashed against the barrier. It didn't penetrate, either.

Lottres lay on the pavement, face up, eyes closed. A trickle of blood ran into his beard. Brastigan felt his throat constrict. Lottres was all he had left.

Dragon's fire exploded in his blood. Brastigan didn't plan. He lunged without thinking. Victory slashed in a high arc. Ysislaw started to turn, but too late. Brastigan felt the impact, heard a dull snap. The tip of Ysislaw's left horn flew off, spinning in the air.

“
You...
”
Ysislaw grated. One gauntlet groped at the broken stub of his horn.
“
Do you know what you've done?
”

“
Yes, I do,
”
Brastigan grinned, giddy with success, mad with rage that Ysislaw had hurt Lottres.
“
Your horns are your power, and I've broken yours. You're nothing but a man, just like me.
”

“
I will kill you,
”
Ysislaw said, a harsh whisper.

“
You've told me that before.
”
Brastigan laughed.
“
Come on and try it!
”

He raised Victory in defiance, but Ymell struck first. Lightning snarled in the air. Ysislaw's barrier shattered with a shriek like broken glass. The evil wizard staggered beneath the onslaught. For the first time in millennia, maybe, Ysislaw the conqueror screamed in pain and fear.

“
Well struck, Brastigan,
”
Yriatt's voice said in Brastigan's mind. She projected warmth and pride, which abruptly turned to ice
.
“
Now get out of our way.
”

Prudence overcame pride. Brastigan retreated to Lottres's side. He bent over his brother, and was enormously relieved to hear a moan of pain. Lottres's eyelids fluttered—he lived!

Yriatt landed, somehow making her dragon form fit into the courtyard. Ysislaw staggered as if trying to flee, but Yriatt sprang like a cat. Her talons slashed Ysislaw's steel hauberk like cotton cloth. She flipped him into the air, just as a cat tosses a mouse. He flew, spinning and screaming and shattered. Lightning roared upward from Ymell's outstretched hands. Then Yriatt's black head snaked up. She snatched Ysislaw from the air with a snap and a crunch. Then she shook her head and flung the limp body over the wall and out of sight. Ymell looked ready to follow and savage the corpse some more.