Brave Men Die: Part 2 (3 page)

The stairs posed a problem as they left him completely exposed as he traversed down them. Thom kept his back pressed firmly against the wall as step by step he went down, testing his weight on the wooden planks before planting his foot fully so there would be no sudden creaks.

A figure emerged from the doorway on the left and walked right in front of the stairs, the young serving girl moved with her head down and straight in the direction of the kitchen. Releasing the breath he was holding, all caution gone, he hurried down the last few steps and followed the girl. He couldn’t leave her alive when he had the rest of the apartment to explore.

The kitchen was dark and the evening light that came through the tiny window in front of the large sinks did little to reveal the features. The girl stood in her shift with her back to him. Thom could see the shape of her figure through it and smiled at the thoughts running through his head. He pushed the thoughts aside for later, took his knife and stepped closer. The girl was cutting bread and cheese on the bench, her own knife larger than his and he hesitated for a second.

Thom’s hand came up too quickly, smothering her mouth and any chances of crying out, long before his knife hand was ready to slide across her neck. The girl’s eyes went wide with fright and she started thrusting the blade in her hand back toward him. Thom’s head went dodging to the side to avoid taking it through the eye and plunged his knife into her neck. The bread knife came up one final time, scratching him across the back of the hand and he grimaced in pain but did not murmur a sound. The girl collapsed and he gently lowered the body to the ground in silence.

Looking at his hand, he noted the scratch wasn’t deep and he wouldn’t bleed to death. He hurriedly got about his business searching for the Prince. There was not another living body in the building and he had made sure he searched every nook and cranny. The Prince was not here tonight, or maybe he had never been here. Thom would be paying a visit to the information merchant and informing him of such. At least the others had still been here, the Princess and her daughters all dead by his hand. The Kingdom would tremble at the fact that someone had murdered their beloved royals under their very noses, and gotten away with it too. The Prince still needed to die but that would have to wait for another day.

Thom bounded up the stairs three at a time, confident now that no one was left alive that could hear any noise he made. He went back into the master bedroom, closed the door behind him and went out onto the balcony. Planting one foot onto the balcony rail, he twisted his body around and leapt for the roof. His fingers caught the gutter and he pulled himself up, straining from the effort and the pain from his hand. Moving quickly he got over to the other side of the roof, hit it at a run, and leaped over the alley beside the apartment and onto the roof of the building next door.

Not bothering to stop and check that no one had heard his scrabble to regain his footing, Thom rushed on, jumping from roof to roof, building to building, before he leapt down into a shadow filled alley. He removed his mask and gloves, checked to see that his knives were safely tucked up his sleeves, and walked calmly from the alley out into the night with a smile on his face.

‘My girls are dead!’ Reza screamed as he was restrained by two of the Murukan knight-generals. Braithe held him on one side, Rodderick the other, as he launched himself forward at Dejeski and the men behind him.

Spittle flew from his mouth as he snarled and struggled against men who had trained all their lives for service in the military. Reza’s light frame strained against their muscled forearms. ‘I want them dead. They’re useless, can’t do what they are bloody trained to do. Fuck. Bastards.’ The ranting turned into rambles and sobs but the anger never left his eyes.

Dejeski stood with his arms folded across his chest and kept his body between the men of the royal guard in question and the distraught Prince. His remaining eye stared unblinkingly, his jaw set and the white scar that ran down the left side of his face twitching involuntarily.

‘It was a trained assassin Reza. Those bloody Kyzantines are murderous scum and are very good at it. Even the best of ours might not have seen him.’

‘If I was there I could have done something, led those men,’ he screamed, pointing at the four men of the royal guard.

‘If you were there and not in Sarkridge on business, he would have killed you too, and that would have thrown the Kingdom into chaos.’

‘And it isn’t already?’

‘The loss of your wife and daughters is a tragedy Reza, but to lose you the same night that the King is murdered would be an event that we might not come back from. The Kingdom needs you to be strong. Your brother is now the King and you the heir to the throne. We are at war with our neighbours and any sign of weakness could be the end of us.’

‘These men travelled from Nethvan to report the crime to you personally. It was a professional hit, by a man that would never be seen unless he wanted to be. It was their duty to guard them and they failed, but they did the honourable thing and came here to ask forgiveness.’

Reza went limp in Rodderick and Braithe’s arms.

Reza’s eyes went to the four men in military uniform, standing with their hands clasped behind their backs, their eyes on the ground and genuine regret and sadness haunting their features. His own heart sunk even further.

‘The woman that killed my father …’

‘Was also a Kyzantine assassin. She had no chance to get out of the palace once the King’s body was found and we had all the harem girls cornered. The devil put up quite a fight before we put her down along with the rest of the little bitches.’

Reza pushed the two generals’ arms away and leaned back. Straightening his jacket, he composed himself the best he could. His cheeks were still red but there was nothing that could be done about that.

Directing his attention to the four members of the royal guard he ordered, ‘Get out of my sight. Assign yourselves to some outpost along the border but I don’t ever want to see your faces in Sarkridge or Nethvan again. Go.’

The four men saluted, brought their fists to the sides of their heads, pivoted on their heels and left the room. Upon their departure the generals relaxed slightly, now the Prince was not going to try to kill them with his bare hands.

‘Where is my brother at the moment?’

Braithe coughed under his breath. ‘He and Curdish have the ten thousand Murukan Horse patrolling up and down the west coast. There have been an increased number of raids and your brother wanted to deal with them.’

‘I assume it was at father’s request?’ Reza asked, running his hand over his short cropped blond hair.

‘Something like that.’

‘He has been informed I take it? The new King needs to know he
is
the new King before anything happens to him.’

‘A messenger has been sent conveying your father’s death as well as your wife's and daughters’. The Kingdom mourns,’ Rodderick informed.

‘That is not enough. The Murukan Kingdom needs to act. What are our plans generals?’ Reza questioned.

The three older men looked at each other. Dejeski, with his arms still folded across his chest, nodded at the other two to speak. Braithe coughed into his fist to clear his throat.

‘Black smoke appeared over the Callisto Mountains just over a week ago, at all three outposts in the passes. Black Claw signalled first and within hours the other two had started up. We have received word via messenger bird from Buckthorne and Gravid’s Drift that they are responding to the distress beacons.’

‘So it could be an all out attack?’ queried Reza.

‘We feel that it could be,’ Rodderick answered.

‘You too?’ Reza asked of Dejeski.

He nodded.

‘So the Kyzantines are invading. I didn’t think we would ever let things get this bad. Have Buckthorne and Gravid’s Drift reported back in yet?’

‘No, they haven’t, but if it is something they can deal with themselves we won’t hear about it until it’s done and finished. But if it is bigger …’ Braithe trailed off.

‘It could mean we won’t hear about it until one, if not more, of the passes have fallen and the Kyzantines have a foothold into the Kingdom,’ Rodderick interjected.

‘Fucking bastards,’ Reza muttered under his breath. ‘Do we know why? Is there anything that would let us know whether this was an invasion or just a border conflict?’

‘I haven’t heard any intelligence yet that goes either way. The Musea Pass reported large enemy numbers and something about Prince Derrick being murdered. I have not had that confirmed as yet. We won’t know whether it is a full blown invasion or just a strike at the closest possible target until either the baron or the earl confirm something,’ answered Braithe.

‘So we know nothing. Well, we can’t just stand here hoping that this will go away. I want measurements put in place so we don’t have a battlefield on the doorstep of the capital. Father would never have let that happen and neither will I. What are your plans generals?’

‘We will each take three battalions out for training exercises and manoeuvrers in different directions,’ Rodderick informed him. ‘Dejeski will take the First, Fifth and Seventh battalions directly to Carham where he can set up a temporary headquarters to give us a good push straight to Gravid’s Drift if things get tough. Braithe will take the Second, Fourth and Sixth to the east to the Dyrest River and can redirect north to Carham if war has been joined.’

Rodderick paused and drew breath. ‘I will go north immediately with the Third, Eighth and Twelfth in case the Kyzantines break through at Black Claw or further west through the Gorgon Pass. I can respond quicker being positioned there and can gather greater numbers at Buckthorne if the baron hasn’t already committed them.’

‘That sounds feasible. The Murukan Horse can be recalled from the coast leaving the outposts already in position to deal with the raiders and can move across the country to aid any fighting. The Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh, Thirteenth, Fourteenth and Fifteenth can be held in reserve until we know where they need to be deployed. Is there anything else gentlemen?’ the Prince asked.

‘Sir …’ Braithe started.

‘We want a unit of magi, Reza,’ Dejeski finished. ‘We want one for each of us. They are the Kingdom’s most powerful weapon, they travel faster than any artillery and they won’t look out of place in a simple "training exercise".’

‘You want me to ask the Academy or you want me to order them?’

‘Whatever is necessary. If we are at war they will be drawn into the conflict eventually. We would prefer it from the start.’

Knight-General Curdish stood exhausted with his back against the wall. Dark, long curls clung to his forehead as his gauntleted fingers gripped his helmet loosely in his left hand. His sword was covered with the raiders’ blood. He looked around the room over the faces of the men he was in charge of. Cuts and scratches were the worst the men inside had got. Others had not been so lucky.

Between Prince Daymon and himself, the plan had seemed so simple. Wait in the houses at night for the raiders to come, ambush them when they thought they were just attacking the people, light the signal fire, and the Horse would come charging and kill everyone on the street.

The fighting had been bloody and brutal. In close quarters every detail of the enemies’ faces could be seen and the look of death in their eyes haunted him momentarily when he closed his eyelids. The ambush had worked, sort of. The lads had kept the raiders from the houses, kept them on the streets long enough for the cavalry charge that thundered down every dirt covered street. With nowhere safe to flee, their long boats ablaze, they had fought to the last man, stood together as the horses came, battered harder to get inside the buildings. They had managed that on the other side of the street, getting past the first Murukan at the door to trample over his body and engage those within.

The candlelight cast shadows along the walls as Curdish’s eyes swept over the man now covering the closed door. Others stood to either side of the window while the rest remained well back ready to charge.

The sound of hooves roaring past the door gave light to thoughts that it was finished but the Horse was met by shouts and battle cries and the familiar sound of ringing steel. It wasn’t over yet.

Minutes felt like hours before the heavy breathing of armoured mounts stopped outside the building and the rapping on the door echoed into his ears a familiar pattern.

‘Open the door,’ Curdish ordered the two men stationed in front of it.

A tall figure emerged into the candlelight, his dark curls falling down the sides of his head as he removed his helmet. Broad shoulders strained to squeeze past the soldiers, a second smaller man following him in. The taller handed his helmet to the other and his eyes locked with Curdish’s.

‘I think this will keep them away from the coast for a while Curdish.’

‘Good, because we have other places to be Daymon.’

‘I’m more than aware of that. We had to do this first, before we can run off to the other side of the country. The raiders needed a deterrent and after tonight we have bloody well given them one.’

Blood trickled down out of his sleeve from a cut that Curdish suspected sat high across his bicep. His brown eyes were alert as he studied the room. Running his hand through his dark hair, the uncrowned young King shook his head.

‘How long before we can be of use?’

‘That depends on a lot of things. We are down pretty far south, Firadon’s border is barely two days away. By the time we get organised, prepare food and water to accompany the Horse …’ Curdish sighed.

Daymon looked at him expectantly.

‘The best we could do is maybe a month, if we kill the horses and the men in the process. That’s not feeding and watering them and stopping for only a few hours a night. The Horse are the toughest bunch of bastards I know, they probably would survive the limited rations but they wouldn't be in any condition to fight at the end of it. And that’s realistically what they are going to have to do. Even if the passes hold, which I hope they do, in a couple of months' time those men are going to be exhausted and when we turn up they will want to step down and sleep.’

‘It won’t help not knowing exactly where we are headed either. I have recalled the scattered Horse to meet north of our position and we will head inland from there. If we push north–east and skirt around the capital we should avoid having to deal with a coronation that would keep us, or at least me, away from the action where we are needed.’

‘Where do you think they will break through?’

‘The biggest push will be at Black Claw I imagine. It’s a central location, its closer to the heart of the Kingdom and they have the Cerebus Valley to feed from. Thousands can gather in that and charge down the pass. The Gorgon Pass is out of the way and won’t leave them in the best position to launch an attack. The Musea doesn’t even lead into Murukia anymore but I wouldn’t put it past Tyrea to turn the blind eye while they bloody well wander on in.’

‘You won’t go into Sarkridge to speak to your brother? His girls died the same night as your father. He must be hurting.’

‘Reza will have to tough it out. He’s the administrator of the family, took after father in that respect, he needs to be organising the troops, how we are going to feed them and try to get some help from Firadon and Raeltom. He’ll join us on the field when he’s done what he needs to do. We can kill Kyzantines to avenge his daughters together.’

‘I want runners out to everyone in town,’ Curdish snapped at the men in the room. ‘I want every man of the Horse ready by sun up to move north. Armoured, full flasks, and in the saddle before me.’

Daymon looked across at him, nodded his head, and left the house.