Reign of Madness (Revised Edition) (66 page)

 “It has begun,” said Striker Shezar, his voice still
being projected throughout the arena.

“What is happening?” Dark Tidings asked.

“All across the city the army is rounding up foreign
intruders
as spies and illegal immigrants,” the striker said with revulsion for the
orders. “The important foreigners are to be held and ransomed back to their
families and liege lords, and the others will be sold off as slaves. We must
move quickly. The army was to gather the spectators in the arena so that they
can weed out the foreigners. I cannot guarantee they will be careful in their
judgments, and
you
are most certainly a target. The strikers were to
help maintain the porticos against the more talented fighters. You have killed
most of us here, but others will be coming, and even you cannot take on an
entire army.” The last was said at a considerably lower volume as the power
that enhanced the speakers’ voices abruptly ceased. Likely, the army did not
want heard what the striker just revealed.

“We must gather as many others as we can and make our way to
the duke’s estate,” Dark Tidings replied.

“We are with you,” sounded a deep voice with a Torreli
accent. It was Brendam LuDou, Captain of the Royal Guard for King Desbian of
Torrel, former tournament champion and the official who had tested Dark Tidings
to certify him as a contestant in the Fifth Tier. Most of the other Fifth Tier
combatants who remained on the field were gathered with him. So far, the
soldiers had avoided entering the field where lay the corpses of five of the
king’s elite strikers, so the contestants had a bit of time to organize.
Everyone knew more soldiers would be coming, though, and then it would be too
late to escape.

“Why not the docks? We must escape the island,” the striker
announced.

“I have already prepared an escape,” the black wraith
stated.

The striker’s brows rose, and he said, “We had no chance of
taking you alive, did we?”

“Never,” said the wraith.

While the soldiers were trying to prevent it, a number of audience
members were dropping over the arena wall in an attempt to escape the soldiers
in the stands. Rezkin had warned his friends about the possibility of problems
and told them if they needed an escape, they were to stay together and get to
the field as soon as possible. The last of the group, Baron Fendendril, had
just been assisted down the wall when a large hooded figure intercepted a
soldier who was attempting to follow. The hooded figure dispatched the soldier
and slipped over the wall. He approached Dark Tidings as the group arrived.
Shoving his hood back, Kai bowed slightly and saluted with a fist across the
heart.

“Kai!” Shezar exclaimed in astonishment.

Kai nodded once to his fellow striker and then turned back
to Dark Tidings. “My king, the city is in chaos, and the army has swarmed the
streets. They are taking as many prisoners as possible, but they do not
hesitate to kill those who protest too much. Already many of the buildings are
in flames, but our ship should be secure for the moment.”

The group of Eastern Mountains men came running up behind
Rezkin’s friends, each wielding a massive battleax. “Your tribe is with you,
Chieftain Dark Tidings,” announced Chieftain Gurell. We heard what the striker
said. We will not be taken for slaves!”

Rezkin surveyed the faces of the gathering crowd. A great
number of people, most of them foreigners, were flocking to his banner –
so to speak. He did not actually have a banner, but he was certain Kai or one
of his other devoted vassals would make sure he had one. Dark Tidings began
issuing orders, which were relayed and carried out by the strikers and other
experienced fighters around him. He arranged his people so that the fighters
were stationed around the perimeter with the strongest fighters in the rear and
lead, and the noncombatants were protected in the center. Many of these were
women, and even a few children or small-men were amongst them.

Kai directed Rezkin to the portico where the fewest army
soldiers had gathered before he entered the arena. Without the strikers to
bolster their defense, many of the regular soldiers fled. When they noticed
Striker Shezar at the forefront, a few even turned on their comrades to assist
the group’s escape. Those who did not fall beneath the assorted blades wielded
by the strikers, tournament competitors, and anyone else who happened to be
carrying a weapon fled in terror of the group. Any of the escapees who did not
have a weapon collected them from the fallen as they ran. More people joined
the group as they made progress through the halls of the arena.

The escapees emerged from a side portico that had previously
been reserved for official use only. Kai had been correct in his assertion that
this area was less heavily guarded, and the lack of soldiers was for good reason.
The portico opened into a narrow corridor less than twenty paces wide between
the arena wall and a steep rubbly slope. The heaviest fighting was at the front
where Rezkin, Striker Shezar, Chieftain Gurrell and a few other ax-wielders and
Swordmasters were cutting through the unit of Ashaiian soldiers who were
attempting a blockade. Kai held a group of accomplished fighters at the back,
which included Striker Roark, and they held off any soldiers who attempted to
follow them through the portico. As the number of corpses lying in their wake
grew, fewer soldiers attempted to stop them.

The group made it past the arena grounds and flowed into a
less populated side street. Not enough army units were available to occupy
every artery in the city at once, and Kai and Shezar took to the rooftops to
scout ahead. The group moved quickly but became slightly strung out as some of
the noncombatants fell behind and fighters had to fight off a few random groups
of overzealous and overconfident soldiers.

Dark Tidings called a halt to regroup when they reached a
mid-sized square. Captain Jimson, who had thus far gone along with the group
for the sole purpose of guarding his charges, grasped Frisha’s arm and pulled
her close.

“Lady Frisha, we should stay here and take cover. From what
the striker said, the army is gathering foreigners. You and the others will not
be in danger if we simply return to the inn,” the captain stated with haste.

Frisha jerked her arm from Jimson’s grasp. “No, I am staying
with…
him
,” she said as she motioned to the dark wraith that was issuing
orders to those around him with ease. “I don’t know where Rezkin is, but he is
sure to be wherever Dark Tiding is taking us. I won’t leave him. Besides, you
heard Uncle Marcum, your
General
. He said to stay with Rezkin
no
matter what
.”

Jimson had already made the connection, though. He had been
present when Kai swore his allegiance to Rezkin, and now the man was deferring
to Dark Tidings. He had already heard the rumor that Rezkin served the True
King as his Voice, and now he understood the truth of it. Jimson had known
Rezkin was a Swordmaster, but he would never have believed the man to be as
impossibly skilled as the wraith who had won the Fifth Tier and Melee without
so much as a scratch.

“Rezkin cannot help you now,” Jimson gritted through his
teeth. “Dark Tidings is an enemy of the king. General Marcum,
your uncle
,
ordered me to protect you, and I cannot do that if you are seen with a
traitor.”

“Dark Tidings
is
the king!” Frisha exclaimed. “My
loyalty is with Rezkin and the True King, Captain Jimson. Where is yours?”

“We must be going,” said a deep, disturbing voice from
beside him.

Jimson turned and said, “This is madness. Drascon, Millins,
the guards and I can escort the others back to the inn where they will be safe.
The army is not after
them
.”

“No one is safe,” Dark Tidings replied. “We go to the ship,”
he said as he started to turn away.

Jimson grabbed Dark Tidings’ forearm and said, “I know who
you are. You cannot do this to them.”

“
I
am not doing this. Caydean is doing this.” Dark
Tidings motioned around him at the frightened faces and said, “Do you support
his actions, Captain? Do these innocent people, who were invited
guests
of the kingdom, deserve to be imprisoned and sold as slaves? Do they deserve to
be killed if they resist? Will you carry out Caydean’s orders against them?”

Jimson stared at the black voids behind which he knew to be
icy blue eyes but said nothing. Dark Tidings turned his disturbing gaze to
Drascon and Millins and said, “None are forced to attend me. You may go now, if
you wish, and protect any who desire to flee with you, but you
will not
prevent any from accompanying me. It is time to make your choice.”

Jimson looked around at the nobles he was ordered to escort
and asked if any had a desire to remain in Skutton. They each lifted their
heads in defiance and shook their heads. Even Baron Fendendril agreed to
accompany Dark Tidings after seeing the stubborn set of his son’s jaw. Millins
took one glance at a young Sandean woman with a swollen eye and cut lip and
declared his loyalty to Dark Tidings. Drascon simply nodded and walked over to
join the fighters still guarding the perimeter.

Jimson turned to his friend who was wrapped in a demonic
disguise and said, “For what it is worth, my personal respects lie with you. It
seems my charges agree, so I have no reason to turn back.”

A loud hoot sounded from the rooftop a few buildings over,
and Dark Tidings looked up to see Shezar waving his hands around in a complex
series of motions. “We must move quickly,” the wraith announced.

The group set off again toward the duke’s estate, taking
seemingly random turns that were actually carefully orchestrated by the scouts
to avoid as many patrols as possible. Even so, several skirmishes broke out, and
the group lost a few of its number. At one intersection, they reached a
blockade that had previously been occupied by several cross-bowmen. These
cross-bowmen were now lying in pools of their own blood having been taken out
by the scouting sentries.

Eventually, the group made it beyond the last of the city’s
buildings and onto the open road leading to the estate. No soldiers or guards
patrolled the road, now, and the group moved as quickly as possible. Several of
the men had stowed their weapons in favor of carrying struggling children, and
those men and women who were not used to such physical stress were stumbling
and breathing heavily. No one suggested stopping for a rest. The consequences
of failing to escape were too terrible to consider a respite. Rezkin felt the
weight of responsibility on his shoulders. The group was full of his friends,
comrades, vassals, and complete strangers, but they had
all
put their
trust and faith in him.

The escapees came to a halt just inside the tree line that
bordered the fifty-yard open space before the estate walls. It was fully dark
now, and it was unlikely they would be seen amongst the vegetation. Rezkin
gathered the strongest fighters and organized an offensive. He ordered the
battle mage to construct a ward to shield them from arrows, and with little
time to spare, the unit stormed the walls.

At first, the guards laughed at the small force that emerged
from the dark, but once they realized they were being set upon by several
strikers and the infamous Dark Tidings, they lost their humor. The strikers and
the wraith began scaling the walls unaided and unhindered, and the soldiers
could do little to stop them with the mage’s shield extended as it was. The
ward was not a shield in the classic sense of the word, for the battle mage
would have found it nearly impossible to maintain that kind of magic for long.
Wesson had actually constructed a magical barrier that would incinerate
anything that attempted to pass through it. Arrow shafts turned to ash while
the heads melted into hot globules that hurt when they struck but did not
puncture. The mage could only extend the shield so far, though, and he had to
release it just before the elite forces reached the top of the wall or they,
too, would be incinerated.

One soldier jabbed down on Dark Tidings with a spear. The
dark warrior twisted out of the way and grabbed the weapon by the shaft. The
inexperienced guard failed to recognize his predicament and kept a tight grip
on the weapon. When the ascending warrior jerked the spear roughly, the man
fell over the wall with a scream, followed by a thud. Just as Rezkin threw
himself over the balustrade, two swordsmen took swipes at the warrior. Dark
Tidings avoided one but took a slash to his armor when he reached out and
grabbed the other. He jerked the man around and rammed him into the first
sending both men tumbling over the wall.

The strikers had managed to reach the top and set about
clearing the wall of Ytrevius’ guards. It was only minutes before Striker Roark
was opening the gates for the rest of their assault force to enter. As the
highly skilled fighters cleared the courtyard, the remainder of the group made
their way across the field. Once inside the walls, they made straight for the
manor house. Even Rezkin was surprised when a large tangle of massive roots
suddenly burst through the flagstones and crashed through the thick wooden
doors. Tieran wore a sheepish grin as Wesson patted the young aspiring life
mage on the back.

Once the doors had been destroyed, many of the guards ran.
Those who stood their ground died. Rezkin considered it a waste. If they had
followed the
Rules
, they would have known this was a fight they could
not win, and they would have run, too. The duke was a smart man, but he was far
too reliant on his wards. Rezkin simply ran through them, and moments later
they unraveled under Wesson’s destructive attentions.

Beyond the foyer was the Great Hall where the duke presided
over disputes and held court with lesser nobles as though he was a king. The
hall was most heavily warded, and once the invaders were beyond the doors, they
encountered heavy resistance from the duke’s personal guard. Rezkin’s group
lost a few more of its less skilled members and a woman they had been
protecting, but the guards were no match for the highly talented tournament
competitors and strikers.