Blood and Honor (Forest Kingdom Novels) (38 page)

“We have a King again,” said Gawaine. “Redhart has a King! Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!” roared the guards, and there was a clash of steel as they drew their swords and raised them to him in the warrior’s salute. “The King! The King!”

They cheered him again and again, until the crypt was full of echoes. Jordan looked at Sir Gawaine. The knight nodded simply, and bowed again. Jordan looked at Taggert, kneeling grinning before him, and made a sudden decision.

“All right,” he said crisply. “Let’s strike while the iron is still hot. I may have the crown and the seal, but I’m not King until I’ve made my oath to the Stone. Gawaine, take charge of these guards, and clear a path between here and the Great Hall. Offer pardons to any man who’ll support me. Cord, you stick with the steward and me. No one is to get close to us unless you know and trust them personally. Roderik, you stay close as well, in case I need any political advice. Well, don’t just stand there, people, get moving! We’ve a throne to win!”

The guards looked expectantly to Sir Gawaine for his orders. He sighed very quietly, and bowed to Jordan. In a matter of moments he’d taken charge of the guards quickly and efficiently, left one company as bodyguards, and led the rest out of the crypt. Cord and Taggert fell in on either side of Jordan, weapons drawn and at the ready. Roderik gave him a hard, measuring look.

“You’ve got your confidence back in a hurry, Your Highness, but the fact remains that without me you haven’t a chance of holding onto the throne. You’re out of touch after your years in exile. There’s more to being king than wearing a crown and sitting over the Stone. You need to know who can trust and who you can’t: who’ll take a bribe and who’ll stay bought. I know these things. You need me, Viktor.”

“Never said I didn’t,” said Jordan. “As long as you remember which of us gives the orders, I see no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy a long and profitable relationship. Right?”

Roderik thought about it for a moment, and then bowed reluctantly. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” said Jordan. “Dominic might be out of the running at last, but there’s still Lewis to worry about.”

“Just a minute, Viktor,” said a cold voice behind him. “What about me?”

Jordan looked around and found himself facing the Lady Heather. Her gown was spattered with somebody else’s blood, and gore dripped from the knife in her hand, but she was apparently unhurt herself. She glared fiercely at Jordan, then looked at Taggert and if anything glared even harder.

“I never knew you and the steward were such good friends, darling. So close, in fact, that you forget all about me the moment she turns up! Do tell me all about her, Viktor. Leave nothing out. I never realized you had a taste for slumming.”

I don’t need this
, thought Jordan tiredly. I
really don’t need this right now
.

“We’ll talk about it later, Heather,” he said finally.

“We’ll talk about it right now! Send this overmuscled cow about her business—I want to talk to you, Viktor. It seems to me you’ve had your first taste of power, and it’s gone straight to your head. You’ve forgotten who your real friends are!”

“Overmuscled cow?” said Taggert.

Uh oh
, thought Jordan. He looked around him for some support, but everyone was ostentatiously studying the scenery. This was his problem, and no one else had any intention of getting caught in the firing line.

“Overmuscled cow?”
said Taggert again.

“Heather,” said Jordan, very calmly, “I don’t have the time or the inclination to put up with this nonsense. Go back to your quarters and stay there. You’ll be safe there. I’ll come and see you as soon as I can, but right now I’m rather busy.”
Besides which, I have a strong suspicion that if I don’t get you out of here right now, the steward is quite probably going to carve you up into handy bite-size chunks
. “I can’t stay any longer. People’s lives are at stake, and I have to think of them first.”

“Cut the nobility crap, Viktor. It doesn’t suit you.” Heather’s sneer made her look suddenly ugly. “I know you, Viktor. You can’t fool me.”

“No,” said Jordan, “You don’t know me at all, Heather.” He nodded to two nearby guards, and they snapped to attention. “See that the Lady Heather gets safely back to her quarters, and then stand guard at the door until I send someone to relieve you.”

The guards saluted crisply, and stepped forward to stand on either side of Heather. She looked at Jordan for a long moment, speechless with rage, and then turned and stamped away. The guards hurried after her. Jordan sighed silently. She didn’t really deserve treatment like that, but he had to do it. She was quite right: she did know Viktor well. Too well. It wouldn’t have taken her long to work out who he really was. He’d have had to break off with her anyway, and her making a scene had solved the problem nicely. He wouldn’t have felt half as guilty if he hadn’t enjoyed it so much …

“I’m sorry that happened,” said Taggert, tentatively.

“I’m not,” said Jordan. “We were never really suited. It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Now let’s make a start for the hall, before something else happens to delay us.”

Jordan hurried down the castle corridors with Cord and Taggert at his side. His company of guards moved before and behind him, making sure that everyone kept a respectful distance. Gawaine and his guards had done their best to open up a route for him, but there was chaos everywhere. Rumors were spreading like wildfire, half of them contradictory, and no one knew where they stood anymore. No one wanted to commit themselves to anything until they were sure which faction was going to come out on top, and, of course, there were always those ready to take advantage of the chaos for their own reasons. A good many people wanted to swear allegiance to Jordan when they saw the crown on his head, but he didn’t have time to stop. He just smiled, waved, and kept on running. A growing crowd followed on behind his guards. Jordan tried to step up the pace, and found he couldn’t. Air was burning in his lungs, and his breath rattled in his throat. A stitch ached in his side, but he didn’t dare stop for a breather. He didn’t think he’d be able to get started again if he did. And besides, Lewis could still get to the hall before he did …

For a long time, he was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he didn’t notice what was happening to the corridor around him. In the end, Taggert hit him fairly hard on the arm to get his attention. He looked at her in surprise, and she jerked her head at the corridor walls. Jordan looked closely, and his skin began to crawl. The wooden wall panels were slowly writhing and twisting, as though they were alive. As Jordan watched, part of the wall split open like a rotten fruit, and something dark and spindly with too many legs darted out into the corridor. The steward’s balefire sword appeared in her hand, but Cord got there first. He bludgeoned the creature repeatedly with his mace, and it struggled fiercely as it died. Its saliva spilled onto the floor, and steamed like acid. Cord glared into the opening in the wall, but Jordan just kept on going, and after a moment Cord hurried after him.

“Someone else must have opened a gateway,” panted Taggert. “The Unreal’s broken through again.”

“Great,” said Jordan breathlessly. “That’s all we need. Who’s behind it this time? It can’t be Dominic.”

“I don’t know. This new one can’t have been open long, but each time a gateway is opened, it gets that much harder to close. Our best bet is to get you to the throne, so you can use the Stone to control the Unreal.”

Jordan was too short of breath to answer, so he just nodded and kept on running. Strange lights appeared on the air. Booming voices spoke in the earth beneath the castle. A burning man stood to one side, and laughed unpleasantly as his flesh was consumed by the flames. Visions flickered at the corners of everyone’s eyes, always just on the edge of becoming clear. Jordan stared straight ahead and ran on, refusing to stop for anything.

Finally they rounded a corner, and there were the huge double doors that led into the Great Hall. And standing before the doors were Prince Lewis, Ironheart, and a company of heavily armed guards. Jordan and his party came to a sudden halt, and for a moment the corridor was still and quiet, save for the gradually slowing breathing of the new arrivals. Lewis waited patiently for them to get their breath back before he began speaking.

“You took your time getting here, Viktor,” he said calmly. “As soon as I discovered you had Dad’s will, I knew it wouldn’t be long before you headed back here with the crown and the seal. You’re really very predictable, you know. Especially since I introduced a spy into your people.”

“Oh hell, not another one,” said Jordan. “Who is it this time?”

“No one important,” said Lewis. “But someone with access to everything that was going on. After all, no man keeps secrets from his wife, does he?” Lewis snapped his fingers, and two guards hustled forward the Lady Emma. Gawaine groaned softly.

“I had to do it,” said Emma defiantly. “Lewis knew so much already, and he had Ironheart and the Monk—you couldn’t hope to win. I had to go with the winner. He promised me he’d protect you, Gawaine, if I agreed to keep him informed of your plans. I did it for you, Gawaine.”

“Trusting little soul, isn’t she?” said Lewis. “Now then, Viktor, you let me have the crown and the seal, and I’ll let you live.”

“Do I look crazy?” said Jordan. “You want it, you come and take it. Or aren’t you as brave without your tame sorcerer to back you up? Where is the Monk, anyway? Run off and left you in the lurch, has he?”

“He’s around,” said Lewis. “Keeping busy. I’m afraid you don’t understand the realities of the situation, Viktor. Either you hand over the crown and the seal right now, or I’ll have my people kill the Lady Emma. Slowly and painfully, right before your eyes. You see, I’ve been studying you, Viktor. You got soft in exile. Now, do as you’re told. Or else.”

Jordan glanced quickly at Gawaine, but the knight was staring fixedly at Emma. Jordan scowled desperately, torn so many ways he didn’t know what to do for the best. But, of course, there was only one thing he could honorably do. He pulled the heavy gold ring off his finger and hefted it sadly in his hand. “The royal seal,” he said quietly. “It’s all yours, Lewis.”

He snapped back his hand and threw the ring with all his strength. It struck Lewis squarely in the left eye, and he lurched backward, screaming. Jordan and Taggert leapt forward almost as one and cut down the two guards holding the Lady Emma. And then Ironheart’s steel fist lashed out with murderous speed, and crushed the back of Emma’s skull. She fell limply to the ground and lay still. Taggert’s balefire sword swept crackling through the air and sliced clean through Ironheart’s gauntlet. The severed hand fell limply to the floor. No blood spurted from the armor-clad stump. Ironheart howled horribly, the sound echoing eerily in his featureless helm.

Lewis threw himself at Jordan, and sparks flew as their swords clashed and danced apart. Their guards milled around them, more interested in killing their enemies and settling old scores than in protecting their leaders. Sir Gawaine knelt beside his dead wife and held her hand, oblivious to anything else. Cord swung his mace with awesome strength and speed, but it was all he could do to dent Ironheart’s armor. The knight took even the most punishing blows with virtual indifference. But while Cord kept Ironheart busy, Taggert went to work on him with her balefire sword. The crackling white fire sliced into the dull steel, whittling away at Ironheart like a dull knife on a stubborn block of wood. Gaping rents appeared in the armor, but Ironheart took no hurt from them, and no blood ran. Taggert’s hackles rose as she hacked away at the stubbornly advancing knight, and wondered crazily if he could die. But finally one last cut severed Ironheart’s head from his body, and the suit of armor fell heavily to the floor, and never moved again.

Lewis’s guards lost their confidence as they saw their champion brought down, and when Cord and Taggert turned to join the fight against them, they dropped their weapons and surrendered. Only Lewis fought on, raining blows on the grimly defending Jordan. He continued to back away, and wished he had his flare pellets with him. Even a smoke pellet would have helped. Lewis was strong, fresh, and very experienced with a sword. Jordan was none of those things. So far he was holding his own, bar a few minor scratches, but he was tiring quickly, and Lewis knew it. Jordan kept backing away, his mind working furiously. All he had to do was say the word, and Taggert or Cord or any of his guards would rescue him. But if he did that, they’d lose all respect for him. It’s not enough for a future King to be brave and strong: he must be seen to be brave and strong. Unfortunately, right now Lewis was the stronger.

Jordan suddenly remembered an earlier fight, when Gawaine took on Dark John Sutton. Dark John had all the advantages, but Gawaine beat him anyway.
He was a duelist, sire, and I am a soldier
. Jordan grinned as he remembered Gawaine’s winning trick. He moved in closer, and spat right into Lewis’s face. Lewis’s blade faltered and he drew back instinctively, and Jordan ran him through. His sword punched out of Lewis’s back, and the prince was dead before he could draw in enough breath to scream. He fell to his knees, almost as though bowing to Jordan, and then he fell on his side and lay still. Jordan pulled his sword free, and spurned the body with his foot. There was an impressed murmur from the guards, and Jordan nodded to them tiredly. With a bit of luck, they’d all been too far away to see exactly how he beat Lewis. They probably assumed he’d beaten the prince by sheer strength of will, or something. He rooted among the-bodies of the fallen guards till he found the royal seal, and slipped the ring back on his finger.

“Pardon me, Your Highness,” said the Steward quietly, “but I think you ought to take a look at this.”

Jordan moved over to where she was kneeling beside Ironheart’s headless body. She showed him the head she’d found inside the featureless helm, and Jordan’s stomach heaved. The head looked as though it had been dead for some
time
. Half the face was already eaten away by decay. Taggert dropped the thing with a grimace, and wiped her fingers thoroughly on her robes.