The Jake Thomas Trilogy: Book 02 - Sword of Light (24 page)

The sound of the clashing steel echoed in the room as the two brothers fought.  They circled each other, stalking like predators, one attacking while the other defended.  There was no thought of quarter, the hate between them overwhelming any sense of chivalry.  They continued to attempt to land a decisive blow, but they were evenly matched.

Daen and Nathen burst into the room and moved to support Marcus.  They were closing on Rolas when Marcus shouted at them.

“No!”  He yelled.  “He is mine.  Protect Keria.”  His friends shared a look, but went over to the bed, placing themselves between the combatants and the princess.

Rolas sneered at Marcus’ warning.  “It is the other way around, little brother.  You are mine!”  With that, he surged forward, his sword spinning and darting in, attacking all out.

Marcus was forced back by the savagery of the attack, barely keeping Rolas’ sword at bay.  He stumbled against a piece of Keria’s furniture, losing his balance.  Rolas struck quickly, his sword slipping past Marcus’ guard, the point driving into the chainmail.  Marcus felt the sword tip slide into his flesh, sudden pain blooming in his upper abdomen.

He spun away, bringing shield up to deflect Rolas’ next attack.  As he did that, Rolas swung his forward leg, catching Marcus near his ankles, sweeping his feet from under him.  Marcus rolled, dodging a heavy swing that rang as the blade struck the floor, trying to get his footing.  Rolas followed, a fixed smile on his face, his sword coming down again.  Marcus was able to get his shield up in time to catch the blow.

But Rolas was overconfident, stepping too close in his approach.  Marcus desperately swung his sword, the tip catching Rolas just below his knee.  The sword bit deep and Rolas stumbled back, howling in pain.

Marcus got to his feet and charged, shield up.  Rolas tried to move, but his injured leg slowed him.  Marcus slammed into him, driving him from his feet.  Marcus thrust his sword downwards and struck Rolas just below the heart.  His brother convulsed, a strangled scream coming from his lips, and his sword tumbled free.  Marcus yanked his sword out and fell back, going to one knee and clutching his wound.

Rolas looked over at him, his visage racked with pain, but eyes filled with hate.  “You think you have won, brother, but you have already lost.”  He gasped, then shuddered once more and lay still.

As Marcus knelt and stared at his brother, his emotions roiling, Keria and his friends came up to him.  They lifted his mail and pushed a crumpled piece of bed sheet against his wound, securing it with long strips of cloth.  After the bandage was in place, they helped him up.  Gripping his sword, he spoke.  “We need to get Keria out of the palace.”

Keria placed a hand on his arm, shaking her head.  “We cannot leave yet.  We have to see if we can make it to my father’s quarters.  Something has happened to him; I know he is in danger.”

“The Royal Guard are assaulting the palace by now.”  Marcus said.  “It is too dangerous for us to take you there.  We must get you out of the palace.  I swear that I will return and look for your father.”

“I will not leave, Marcus.”  Keria said stubbornly.  “I can give you a royal command, but I would rather you support me in this.”

Marcus stared at her as he weighed his options.  His first instinct was to simply grab her and drag her from the palace, but he knew that would be a mistake that would cost him dearly.  He could leave her here, under Nathen and Daen’s protection.  Unfortunately, she would simply command them to do as she said and they would.  While he was loath to expose her to danger, he did not see any other good option if she insisted on going.

“Very well, Keria.”  Marcus said.  “However, my condition is this: you will agree to obey me until we are safely away from the palace.  If I feel that it is too dangerous to continue, we will turn around.  If I tell you to run, you will run without question.  Do you agree to this?”

Keria looked into his eyes, her own eyes shining with pride and love.  “I agree, Marcus.”  She said simply.

“Stay next to me.”  Marcus said as they started towards the door.  As they got close to the hallway, they could hear the distant shouts and screams as fighting raged in the palace.  Helgrant’s team had indeed begun their assault.  Marcus glanced down the hall, but other than the two bodies of the soldiers, no one was in sight.

He signaled and they move swiftly down the hall.  They headed towards the king’s chambers, stopping to glance down the crossing hallways, then continued on.  Marcus knew that they would be passing the apartments that the king had assigned to his family.  As they drew close, he stopped the small party.

“I need to confront my parents.”  He told them quietly.  “They are behind much of what happened here, so I need to know why.  We may get some answers that will help us save the king.”  He looked over at Keria.  “If they will not talk, then we will continue on.”

She placed a hand on his arm and nodded sympathetically.  “We will stop, Marcus.”

They continued slowly moving forward, watchful for Lord Marcelas’ men-at-arms.  They reached the doors to the apartments without any confrontations.  Marcus was reaching for the handle when Daen nudged him.  He turned and saw Captain Justian coming down the hall, sword in hand.  Marcus started to step forward when Nathen stopped him.

“Go.  I will deal with this one, Marcus.”  He said grimly, face a mask as he stared at Justian.  “I owe him for what happened to Sister Silvan.”

“Go, Marcus.”  Daen said as well.  “We will make sure you are undisturbed.”

Marcus nodded and opened the door as his friends moved down the hall.  He and Keria went inside, closing the door behind them.  Marcus motioned for Keria to stay behind him as they moved towards the living quarters.  There were only a few candles burning when they entered the library.  Those candles and the crackling embers in the fireplace were the only light in the room, leaving pockets of shadow.  When Marcus looked towards the fireplace, he saw the top of his father’s head in one of the chairs facing the fire.  He moved around the chair to confront his father.

His father was sitting there, slightly slumped over, skin pale and eyes open, fixed and staring.  His mouth hung open, dried drool visible on the corners, his face covered in rough stubble.  Marcus knelt down and reached out to touch his hand, but it was already cold.  He heard Keria gasp.

Movement near the corner of the room caught his attention.  He rose quickly and brought up his sword.  As he watched, his mother stepped into the light of a nearby candle, holding a wine glass in her hand.

“What is this about, Mother?”  Marcus demanded.  “What happened to
Father?”

His mother sat down in a chair and took another drink before she responded.  She looked up at her son, her eyes cold but slightly unfocused.  “That was your foolish brother’s doing.”  She said.  “I told him that the potion had to be used in small doses, but he did not listen.”

“Potion?”  Marcus demanded.  “What are you talking about?”

“I was given a potion by the demons I serve.”  His mother replied directly, seemingly unconcerned about the revelation.  “It makes men biddable to suggestion.  It has to be used carefully because too much will kill.”  She smiled a cruel smile, twisting that beautiful face.  “Why do you think your father and the king agreed to marry Rolas to the princess?  Your father loved you and wanted to see you happy.  After you had made your intentions known that night, I had to take steps.”

“Why, Mother?”  Marcus said sadly.  “Why did you betray us?”

“Because I should have been Queen!”  She snapped.  She swayed slightly and raised a hand to her head.  “If it had not been for your father’s interest in me, I would have won the king’s heart.  But his father and the king’s father put an end to that.  It should have been me on the throne, not stuck in the far reaches, expected to be nothing but a brood sow.”

“It was shortly after you were born that I committed myself to the demons’ cause.”  She continued, though her voice began to slur.  “I was told that I would one day rule, if I did what I was instructed.  At first, I was only asked for information about the court.  Then, I was given a potion and told to make sure Brother Jonas drank it.  I was able to slip it into his drink at a palace function, but his wife drank it instead.  That was when she took ill and died.”

“I was more successful when I was told to eliminate the queen.”  She said, looking at Keria.  “It was one small step on the path to ruling, my dear.  Your mother was simply an obstacle that had to be removed.”

She took another drink of her wine and turned back to Marcus.   “I was forbidden to kill your father, though.  My masters thought that it would be too suspicious if he were to die, and then I married the king.  I was stuck with my lot until recently.”

“The demons decided it was time to change the direction of the realm; Sanduas and its clerics had thwarted them long enough.  I was to get Rolas married to the princess, and then we could eliminate the king and Keria, leaving the kingdom in our hands.”  She shook her head.  “Of course, it was likely that I would have to eliminate Rolas as well.  He was just too unstable.”

“You have condemned yourself, Mother.”  Marcus said harshly.  “You will not escape the headman’s ax.”

“You are wrong about that, my son.”  Arelia said, another smile crossing her face.  “I have failed in my task.  I have no intention of being here when the demon comes for me.”

“I will not allow you to leave, Mother.”  Marcus stated coldly.

“I don’t need you for that, Marcus.”  His mother said, lifting her cup.  “There was enough potion left for me to escape.”  She shuddered, the cup falling from her hand.  Her head slumped forward.  “Escape from all of you.”  She whispered and went limp.

Marcus stood and simply stared at her, his mind numb, stunned and disbelieving.  Keria came up to him, wrapping her arms around him.  “We need to go, Marcus.”  She said gently.  “There is nothing you can do.”

Blinking away sudden tears, he nodded and straightened his shoulders.  They left the apartments to find Daen kneeling down and wrapping part of his shirt around Nathen’s arm,
who was sitting and leaning against the wall.  A makeshift bandage was already around his head.

Marcus looked down the hall and saw Justian lying on the floor, a pool of blood around him.  As he reached down to help Nathen up, the sound of approaching men echoed down the hall.  He pulled Nathen to his feet and stepped forward to meet this threat.

Several tense moments passed, then he relaxed when Commander Helgrant appeared, leading a group of Royal Guardsmen.  They were all bloodied, but whole.

Helgrant saw Keria behind Marcus, relief crossing his face.  He stepped forward and knelt.  “Your Majesty, we have secured the palace.  The remaining men of Marcelas’ force have fled.”

Marcus started at the title used.  Keria stepped forward, eyes wide and suddenly full of tears.  “What are you saying, Commander?”  She said brokenly.

“We found your father in his quarters, my Queen, but the king was already dead.”  Helgrant said sympathetically.

Keria stood there, swaying slightly.  “Thank you, Commander.”  She said, voice thick with emotion.  “Send runners to the army garrison.  Tell them that the soldiers are to deploy around the city.  Any of Lord Marcelas’ men found are to be captured or killed.  Also, send soldiers and clerics to secure the dungeons.”

“There are some clerics waiting in the sewers, my Queen.”  Daen said, kneeling.  “With your permission, Nathen and I will go find them and lead them to the dungeons.  We also have to free a couple of servants that we left tied up.”

At Keria’s nod, Marcus’ friends ran down the hall.  Helgrant sent one of his soldiers to relay Keria’s order, then ordered the rest down the hallways to make sure the area was secured.  He looked at Keria’s face, sympathy in his eyes, then moved down the hall a short way, leaving Marcus and Keria alone.  Before Marcus could say anything, she turned and threw herself into his arms, weeping.

…

With the smell of the sewers fading slightly, Norlan followed Jonas as they made their way up the crumbling stone stairs, Maxis at his side and his maul gripped tightly in his hand.  They had worked their way through the sewers and found the stones that indicated Nathen’s fall.  They quietly explored the area until they discovered these stairs leading up towards the dungeons.

They reached the top of the stairs and found a rusting metal door barring their way.  Norlan slipped past Jonas and tried to lift the latch as he pulled on the door, but it was rusted shut.  Motioning Jonas to step back, Norlan jammed one of the spikes on his maul into the latch and, using the maul as a lever, pulled with all of his strength.  With a loud squeal of grinding metal, the latch gave way.  He jammed the spike between the door and its frame and pulled again.  After a few seconds of effort, the rusted hinges gave way and the door creaked open.  Norlan pulled it open, then stepped through, maul at the ready.

Maxis slid past him, moving ahead.  Jonas patted him on the shoulder, indicating to continue.  They slowly made their way down the stone hallway, Jonas’ shining form the first light these walls, covered in a slick greenish moss, had seen in decades.  They came to a sharp turn in the hall, which led to another door, made of heavy wood.

Maxis stopped against the door, sniffing around the bottom.  He stiffened, his hackles rising and a low growl rumbling in his chest.  Norlan reached out and pulled the dog back from the door while Jonas released his power, the hallway going dark.  Norlan carefully lifted the latch, winching at the sudden click it made, then slowly pulled the door open.