Arcanius (20 page)

“Enough,” Earl Ageus shouted. “If he speaks again, subdue him by whatever means are necessary.”

“You no longer command here, Father!” Brutas shouted.

The men holding Brutas did nothing, but Rafe drew his dagger and threw it at Brutas. The weapon didn’t turn in the air the way a throwing knife would; instead, the way Rafe threw the dagger, it flew more like a spear, only the handle was aimed at Brutas instead of the blade. The weapon thumped into Brutas’ head and knocked him senseless.

There was a moment of calm as Brutas sagged in his captors arms, and everyone looked at Rafe in surprise. Then, with a shout, the king’s soldiers rushed forward. Rafe saw the back exit door swing open, and he rushed to face the soldiers trying to flank them. He drew his sword as he jumped from the dais, and with one fearsome thrust, he killed the soldier who was first through the small door. Rafe’s momentum knocked the dead man backwards into the soldier that was just coming through the door. They collapsed, and Rafe had time to glance over his shoulder to where his father stood at the rear of the shield wall.

“Steady!” Grentz shouted.

The clash of men echoed in the long room. The earl’s wall bristled with spears, but the king’s soldiers had spears, too. Metal drove into wood with a splintering crack, and men were impaled—their screams made Rafe’s blood run cold. Then both lines of men smashed together, shield on shield. Swords were drawn, as the hacking and shoving of the wall began. Men were cursing, and the weapons clashed like the sounds of Rastimus’ infernal forge from the afterlife.

Rafe didn’t have time to watch the chaos behind him as another soldier jumped over his comrades and attacked Rafe with a furious war cry. Rafe batted the man’s spear to the side but then had to slide out of the way as the man tried to ram him with his shield. Rafe spun around, letting his sword extend away from his body. The soldier was turning, too, and raising his shield, but he wasn’t fast enough. The tip of Rafe’s rapier flew over the edge of the soldier’s shield and cut a gash across the man’s face. It wasn’t a killing blow, despite the fact that Rafe felt the sword glancing off the man’s skull. But the blade slashed across one of the soldier’s eyes, causing him to fall backward, dropping his weapons and writhing on the floor.

The door leading into the room was still blocked as the soldiers in the corridor beyond tried to drag their companions out of the way. Rafe snatched up the wounded man’s shield and repositioned himself to defend the narrow doorway. Spears were cast through the small opening toward Rafe, who dodged to the side. A soldier tried to slip in, angling away from Rafe, but he wasn’t fast enough. One quick thrust from Rafe’s long sword stabbed into the man’s inner thigh. Blood fountained up as the man fell to the floor.

Behind Rafe, his father’s shield wall was slowly being battered down. Thirty men still held the wall in place, but there were over fifty pushing them back. It was a bloody, deadly game, one all the men had trained for, but the first most of them had ever fought in. The nine cities of Valana had been at peace for decades, and the only combat between the cities were duals fought by the champions to settle minor disputes. Grentz was encouraging his men, trying to point out weaknesses, but it was only a matter of time before they were overrun.

The next men through the small door that Rafe was defending came in a clump. Three men charged through together. Rafe wounded the first, his sword slashing across the man’s shoulder, but the other two were unharmed. They spread out, trying to attack Rafe from opposite directions, but they hadn’t counted on Olyva, who had snatched up one of the spears that had been thrown through the open doorway. She ran forward and stabbed her spear into the closest man’s back.

He fell with a gurgling cry of pain as Rafe kicked the legs out from under the other soldier. He fell hard, and Rafe stabbed his sword into the man’s neck. The soldier with the shoulder wound was back on his feet, his shield discarded and his sword now in his left hand. He swung hard at Rafe, who caught the blow on his shield and followed it with a low swipe, slashing his sword under the shield and ripping open the man’s stomach.

Rafe heard the shouting behind him as the shield wall broke. He decided he might be able to break through the guards outside the audience chamber so he dashed toward the doorway, only to be met by several spears, two of which punched through the shield’s wooden boards. Rafe let the worthless shield fall and backed up. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the remaining men of the earl’s guard had surrounded their ruler, Olyva, and Desyra. Rafe ran up onto the dais, joining his father to defend the earl.

“Kill him!” screamed Brutas, who had regained his senses.

The king’s soldiers moved forward, but the fighting was ferocious. The king’s soldiers preferred to stay out of reach of the guardsmen and stab at their opponents with their spears. Rafe parried with his sword and slashed back with his long weapon. The rapier was longer than the average sword, but the king’s soldiers quickly learned to respect it and stayed out of reach.

“You can’t win!” Brutas shouted gleefully. “Order your men to stand down, and I will spare your life.”

“You are not the earl,” Ageus shouted. “The men of Avondale will rise up against you.”

“Then I will crush them, as well. Now surrender, or I shall slay you all, including the women.”

Rafe looked across the hall. Most of the earl’s soldiers were wounded, dead, or being held captive. There were bodies and blood covering the polished floors of the earl’s hall, but no sign of Tiberius.

“Lower your weapons,” Ageus said wearily.

“My lord, no,” Grentz said.

“We are defeated,” Ageus said, putting a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “No more of your brave men should die for me.”

“You heard him,” Brutas shouted. He was holding a rag against his head now and still leaning on one of the guards. “Drop your weapons.”

Rafe had faced death. He had been hurt and felt himself dying, yet nothing had ever pained him as much as seeing his father throw down his sword in defeat. The king’s soldiers stepped forward and snatched Rafe’s rapier out of his hands.

“Take Rafe Grentzson and his bitch captive,” Brutas said coldly.

Rafe’s anger flared, but Brutas was wisely staying out of reach behind his troops. The soldiers pulled Rafe’s hands behind his back. When he resisted, he was punched hard in the stomach, doubling him over. He heard Olyva scream in protest, but there was nothing she could do to help.

“Some of those men you killed were my friends,” said one of the soldiers holding Rafe’s arms. He twisted Rafe’s right arm painfully as he taunted the young warrior. “This isn’t going to be a fun experience for you.”

“Stop it!” Desyra shouted as Olyva was roughly bound the same way as Rafe.

Grentz looked at his son with regret in his eyes. Rafe did his best to nod and reassure his father, but he couldn’t speak, only gasp for breath. Grentz and the other soldiers were herded to the far side of the dais, while Brutas approached his father, who was being held by two soldiers.

“You old fool,” Brutas sneered. “Did you really think you were man enough to overcome me?”

“Take up a sword, my son,” Ageus said. “And I will face you man to man.”

“Oh, no, you aren’t getting out of this that easily. Did you know that Leonosis reopened the dungeons? I’m sure you’ll be right at home there.”

“Brutas, what has happened to you?” Ageus said. “How did your brother convince the other earls to follow him?”

“You bore me with your questions,” Brutas said. “Teach him the penalty for annoying the Earl of Avondale.”

A large soldier drew a wicked-looking dagger and started toward Earl Ageus with a savage grin on his face. Rafe looked at his father, who shoved the nearest soldier out of his way and sprinted toward the dais. He didn’t have a weapon, and Rafe knew what was about to happen.

“No!” Rafe shouted.

But Grentz would not be stopped. Two soldiers turned to stop him, but he lowered his shoulder and rammed into the nearest soldier’s shield. Rafe heard his father’s arm snap; the pop was loud, like a dried quill being broken in two. But Grentz never slowed. He slipped past the soldiers and bounded up onto the dais, his broken arm dangling helplessly as he threw himself in front of Earl Ageus.

The big soldier was just about to stab Ageus with his dagger, but instead he stabbed Grentz. The sword master’s eyes opened wide, as the soldier twisted the blade. Grentz stood perfectly still for a moment; the earl behind him was completely white and trembling. Then Grentz drew the soldier’s sword with his good hand. The soldier shoved the dagger, digging the blade around inside Grentz, doing as much damage as possible, but Grentz didn’t seem to notice. He raised the sword and hacked it into the side of the soldier’s neck.

Both men fell together as Rafe struggled to break free and rush to his father’s side. Blood was spilling down Grentz’s legs, and his skin looked blue around his mouth and eyes. He turned his head and looked at Rafe.

“Father!” Rafe screamed.

“Son,” Grentz said, then he died.

Earl Ageus fell to his knees beside Grentz and held the sword master’s head in his lap. He looked at Rafe, who was shouting in fury, as the other soldiers punched and kicked him into submission.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Rafe. “I’m so sorry.”

“Take him away,” Brutas said as if the whole scene were no longer amusing. “Countess, would you care to join me for wine?”

“Of course,” Countess Mauryn said. “It would be my pleasure.”

Rafe watched helplessly as Earl Ageus was dragged away and Grentz’s head thumped onto the stone floor. Then a spear butt was slammed into Rafe’s head, and he was swallowed by blackness.

Chapter 22

Tiberius

Tiberius stood in the darkness, watching the shadowy figures of the secret brotherhood leave the cavern. He understood their caution, and recognized the genius of their carefully orchestrated rites. He couldn’t see any of the men’s faces, and by leaving first, they kept him from hiding somewhere outside and watching to see who left the small hovel that served as an entrance to the secret cavern.

His mind was buzzing with even more questions. He had no idea how to tap into the power of the stones. He had the Balestone in his possession, but the stone’s willfulness and hunger for power made him leery of even touching it. He had grown up seeing the destructive nature of selfish ambition and he didn’t want to end up like his brother. The Balestone had to be destroyed, but he didn’t know how to do that, either. He might even destroy the world in his feeble attempts to save it. He felt a great weight settling onto his shoulders. Nothing else mattered anymore, not if he failed.

“It is time for us to take our leave,” Ennis said in a tremulous voice. “This way.”

Tiberius followed the older man, his eyes craving light. He was tempted to cast the spell for light and bathe the cavern in bright, magical illumination, but he didn’t want to disrespect his host or the incredible risk the brotherhood had taken in sharing their knowledge with him.

They wound their way out of the cavern and back into the hovel. Ennis extinguished his candle and set it on a table next to the others. Tiberius was tempted to count the candles and learn how many other men were part of the secret society, but he chose not to. Their secrets would be safe with Tiberius. He hadn’t seen them, had no idea how many there were or who they were. If he were captured and tortured, he couldn’t betray their secrets.

Once they were outside, Ennis moved slowly, leaning on Tiberius for support.

“Did you know about the book you sold me?” Tiberius asked.

“Know what about it?” the old man asked.

“Did you know it was there? Did you know I was going to find it?”

“No, I didn’t realize what I had,” Ennis said. “My father was a book collector, picking up whatever he could over the years when people sold their books or passed away. I still have most of his collection. Old books are not very popular at market.”

“So you didn’t know the book fragments were there?”

“No, I just picked a box and went hoping to get enough coin for a hot meal,” the old man said. “What will you do now?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” Tiberius said. “I need to find the Emerystone, but I have no idea where to look. There aren’t any maps that show the blighted lands.”

“Perhaps not,” Ennis said. “But there are maps of Valana before the cataclysm. In fact, I may be able to help you.”

When they got back to Ennis’ small home, Lexi was anxiously waiting for them. She was hidden in the shadows as Ennis and Tiberius came into the dark outer room of the modest house. Tiberius saw her slipping her Wangorian dagger back into her belt as she stepped out of the darkness to greet them.

“You’re back,” she said, sounding relieved.

“We are. Are you okay?” Tiberius asked.

“Sore, but I’ll be fine. Did you learn anything?”

“A lot,” Tiberius said. “But it would be better if we waited until we were out of the city for me to explain. Ennis’ brotherhood risked their lives to share their information with me.”

“So what do we do now?” Lexi asked.

“We need to find an old settlement that was run by the wizards of the Four Orders,” Tiberius said, following Ennis into the well lit back room of the home. “Ennis thinks he can help.”