Imperial Traitor (38 page)

The first exchange was both vicious and blindingly fast. Reynik launched a flashing attack in a deadly combination of hard, accurate strokes. To his surprise, Shalidar’s previously evident
limp disappeared and he defended with apparent ease. Displaying the neat efficiency of a master swordsman he deflected each of Reynik’s blows, remaining in perfect balance throughout. If
Reynik had not seen the assassin’s limping gait before shouting his challenge, then he would have thought he was facing Shalidar in top physical condition.

Sparks showered from the clashing blades and the ring of steel on steel suddenly became the only sound in Reynik’s ears. All else faded out of existence as his world shrank to a bubble
containing just the two of them. Their deadly dance was everything. In his mind it became an entire cosmos of whirling order and chaos: good against evil, light battling the darkness, right
striving to overcome wrong.

Lessons with the gladiator, Serrius, had improved his swordsmanship out of all recognition from the raw skills he had possessed as a freshly-graduated Legionnaire, but he was no blademaster
– not yet at least. His opponent, however, had honed his skills with a sword over years. Shalidar fought with confidence and a fire in his eyes that would have made even the best of swordsmen
blanch. Reynik did not allow the assassin’s gaze to distract him. He did not notice it. Instead he did exactly what Serrius had taught him to do – focused on the centre of his
opponent’s torso, watching for the tell-tale shifts in balance that would allow him to anticipate his opponent’s moves. At the same time he kept his own balance and poise as perfect as
he could make it.

After the first exchange, the two protagonists began to circle. Reynik could see that the assassin was favouring his right leg, but his limp had definitely lessened since engaging in the fight.
No doubt the pumping adrenalin would be dimming the pain, he thought as he watched for another opening.

From beginning the fight on the defensive, Shalidar switched to the offensive during the second exchange. His sudden lunge was well disguised. Reynik barely had time to react, but his sharp
reflexes and his newfound balance served him well. He deflected the blade and whipped a cross cut in response, which was quickly parried. Another rapid string of ringing blows ended with a
momentary stalemate, as they finished with swords locked hilt to hilt in a muscle-twitching struggle of strength, each looking to gain the advantage of position.

Face to face, Reynik could no longer totally ignore Shalidar’s fiery gaze.

‘Prepare to die, Wolf Spider. You’re no match for me.’

‘I’ll see you rot in hell first,’ Reynik growled in response. He shoved away hard and swung at Shalidar’s neck. He was blocked. He struck again and again, testing
Shalidar’s speed of reflex with every swing, but he could get nothing past the assassin’s defences. Worse, the counter-attacks were becoming harder to fend off. Twice in quick
succession he barely deflected counter-strokes that unchecked would have landed mortal blows. Femke’s misgivings suddenly appeared well founded. It was clear that he was outmatched. Unless he
could find a chink in Shalidar’s defence quickly, then he was unlikely to survive the encounter.

An idea formed. He attacked again, concentrating on upper body, neck and head, eventually drawing Shalidar into committing to a vicious cross cut at neck height. With his weight on his back
foot, Reynik spun through ninety degrees, swaying his upper body away and underneath the blade, whilst his front foot lashed out in an explosive kick. He was aiming for Shalidar’s front knee
in the hope of damaging the joint, but in his enthusiasm the kick landed high, glancing off Shalidar’s right thigh. In a flash he was back in a defensive stance from which he deflected
Shalidar’s return stroke.

The glancing kick had not landed well, but the gasp of pain from Shalidar told Reynik all he needed to know. He had found the man’s weak spot. The assassin’s reaction had been out of
all proportion to the strength of the contact. The pain in his face was genuine.

Reynik gave a nasty grin at Shalidar’s discomfort, but he was not given the luxury of enjoying the moment long. The assassin attacked again, this time with a dazzling pattern of strokes
that Reynik found even his reflexes and instincts could not totally counter. The fury displayed on Shalidar’s features was no longer contained, but Reynik was unaware of it as he was reduced
to purely defending with no thoughts of counter-attack. The blinding barrage of lightning-fast strokes began to take their toll. In quick succession, he felt stings on his sword arm, his chest and
his right thigh. None felt serious, but each would be sure to sap his strength.

The assassin did not let up the pace, but continued to press forwards, determined to make his kill. Their blades clashed again and again in what seemed like an endless ringing of metal on metal.
A sudden change in tone and a feeling of imbalance in his blade gave Reynik no more than a half second warning before his sword broke two hand spans from the hilt. He tried to leap backwards to
gain space from Shalidar, but in doing so he tripped over a piece of fallen masonry and fell crashing to the floor.

Shalidar was over him in an instant. Reynik saw the eyes of his nemesis flash with triumph as he raised his sword for the killing blow. He lunged, but somehow Reynik twisted and, using the
remains of the broken blade, turned Shalidar’s sword sufficiently aside for it to miss him and strike the stone floor.

‘Die, damn you!’

Shalidar shifted to strike again, but suddenly straightened and started to turn, his eyes widening with the shock of unexpected pain. Reynik did not hesitate, but launched upwards with all his
strength and rammed the remnant of his blade into the assassin’s belly. Shalidar gasped again. His sword fell from his fingers as he staggered back. He turned. To Reynik’s amazement
there was a dagger stuck deep in the middle of the assassin’s back. He shifted his focus beyond Shalidar, fully expecting to see his father. Instead his eyes met those of an unexpected ally
– Lord Tremarle. Lutalo and two other Legionnaires were approaching fast, but it was the would-be Emperor who was standing behind Shalidar.

‘Why, you old fool?’ Shalidar gasped as he sank to his knees.

‘I just learned that you killed Danar, you merciless son of a bitch. How you had the gall to sit at my side as my adopted son, I shall never know.’

Lord Tremarle drew his sword and stepped forwards. Reynik looked away as the old Lord gave a snarl and swung his blade in a lethal arc at Shalidar’s unprotected neck. The sound of the
impact was horrible. Reynik doubted he would ever forget it. He wanted to vomit, but his pride would not let him. The one thought in his mind was that it was over – finally. With Shalidar
dead, he could go back to his life with a sense of peace.

An ominous creaking far above him snapped his mind back to the present. Even as he looked up to the roof, high above, there was a loud cracking noise and it began to collapse. Great beams
detached, followed by huge areas of slated roofing, all accelerating with deadly momentum. It was an awe-inspiring sight, the implications of which took but a fraction of a second to sink in.

‘RUN! Lord Tremarle! Father – run!’

Reynik was on his feet and sprinting as he had never done before. Another surge of adrenalin fired his body into action, drawing deep on reserves he did not realise he possessed. Behind him, the
Legionnaires scattered whilst Lord Tremarle looked up and froze in fascinated horror as a great section of the roof detached and fell towards him in what seemed like slow motion. Those who saw it
happen said afterwards that at the last second before impact he threw his arms wide as if to embrace his fate. The huge weight of falling debris crushed him instantly.

A final running dive carried Reynik clear. He landed hard and rolled some distance before coming to rest against the side wall of the Great Hall. A wave of dust and splintered slate scattered in
all directions. He huddled in a ball with his arms protecting his head, as splinters rained against his back and legs.

The rumbling crash settled to the occasional clatter of odd pieces of slate falling or settling. There was still some echoing noise in the hall. The survivors were still whimpering, and the
injured still crying out for help, but the sounds of them seemed subdued in the aftermath of the collapse. Cautiously, he unravelled his body and rolled over. Tears formed in his eyes as he peered
back through the settling dust cloud. He knew instantly that Lord Tremarle had not made it clear. The old Lord had saved his life, only to lose his own just a few seconds later. It did not seem
right that he should suffer such a cruel twist of fate.

After a moment, Reynik looked around the Great Hall again. His father gave him a shaky wave from where he was regaining his feet and dusting himself down. All the visible evidence suggested that
Lord Tremarle was just one casualty amongst many today. For the first time since the quake had thrown him from his feet, Reynik started to think outside of his immediate circumstances. A slow,
creeping sensation of horror coiled around him as his mind finally made the connection between the explosion and Femke.

‘Oh please, no!’ he breathed. ‘Not Femke . . .’

Even as he uttered his plea, Derryn and Lady Kempten stumbled into the Great Hall through one of the nearby doorways. The Lady looked dishevelled, but composed. A trickle of blood ran down the
left side of her face, originating somewhere under her hair. Despite her physical appearance, however, there was no mistaking her for anything but nobility.

‘Are you all right, my Lady?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Reynik. I shall feel even better if you give me news of my husband.’

‘He’s well, my Lady. Look, he’s over there coordinating the rescue efforts. Part of the roof collapsed and one of the stone pillars fell. There are people trapped under the
rubble.’

‘Then I shall go and help him. Thank you.’

‘Have you seen anything of the others, Derryn?’ Reynik asked the aging knife-thrower.

Derryn shook his head. ‘We were on our way out of the Guild passages when we were thrown from our feet by the shock wave. I’ve no idea what caused it, but you’ll have to be
careful if you’re intending to go down there, Reynik. A blast of that magnitude will have done a lot of damage. The entrance to the Guild is open, but even if the passageways are not blocked,
I’m not confident that the caves will be stable any more. It would be easy to get trapped.’

‘Thanks, Derryn. I’ll do my best to be careful. Can you show me the way?’

Lutalo grabbed his son by the arm, having approached in the middle of the conversation.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea, son?’ he said, stopping Reynik as he made to leave. ‘You’re bleeding. There are others who can lead the search. Get your wounds seen
to.’

‘Femke’s down there somewhere, father. I’m not going to rest until I know she’s safe.’

‘She’s that special then?’ Lutalo asked pointedly, giving his son a knowing look.

‘That special and more,’ he replied, returning his father’s look with an uncompromising one of his own. ‘What would you do in my position?’

Lutalo paused for a moment. ‘Exactly what you’re doing, son. Let me bring a few men. We’ll go together.’

‘Wait! I’m coming too.’

Reynik looked around in surprise. It was Calvyn. Reynik had thought him too deep in shock to take any further part in the action. To see him here, pale, but with a determined look on his face,
was completely unexpected.

‘You might want to be aware that the West Wing of the Palace has totally gone,’ Calvyn added. ‘I took a quick look. There’s nothing to mark where it stood other than a
huge crater. Master Jabal is dead – at least I can detect nothing of his life force from here – but I must make sure. I would not abandon him in an hour of need. That explosion involved
a magnitude of magical energy the like of which I doubt has ever been seen in Shandar before. I must come with you.’

‘Calvyn? Are you sure?’ Reynik asked. ‘You don’t look well. Remember how you felt last time you entered the Guild complex? I don’t want to have to carry you
out.’

‘I doubt it will affect me this time. Whatever Jabal did down there will have changed the magical properties of the Guild complex forever. You might require my specialist help. If
there’s need, then I can use magic to clear the way, or to shore up the roof. Both, if necessary.’

Reynik nodded. ‘I’d be a fool to turn down the company of one with such abilities. If you’re sure, then let’s go.’

Femke felt sure she must have died. The darkness was complete and her body numb. The combination of the total lack of light, together with the lack of tactile feeling, gave her
the sensation of floating in an eternal void of darkness. She felt dizzy and sick. Was she spinning in the void? Once the idea had entered her mind, it was difficult to banish. Also, there was
pain. ‘Is this the sort of echo of pain one suffers on losing a limb, still feeling sensations where the limb used to be?’ she wondered. ‘Am I a spirit now feeling pain where once
I enjoyed a body?

It was the noise that gave her the first flash of hope – the distant sound of someone talking. At first she thought it might be her imagination, but after a moment or two, she realised
that there was more than one voice. What was more, they were coming closer.

She tried to move; tried to do anything that might take away the sensation of floating in the darkness. It was hopeless. She tried to call out, but that also proved impossible. Her efforts,
whilst not spectacular, did result in a noise. It was faint, but she was sure it had been real. If the noise was real, then the people she could hear talking were real, and if they were real . .
.

She tried again. The sound she made was muffled, but louder. A faint haze of light filtered through to her eyes. It was not enough for her to see anything, but the voices were still coming
closer. There was a sudden sound of running feet. A weight suddenly lifted from her and she flinched from the burning light of the torches that suddenly flooded her sight.