Chapter 21:
To Arms
Mishalea lay naked on her bed beside High Commander Lynx. She'd taken to bedding Lynx somewhat recently as a precautionary attempt to balance the growing rift between him and Eiku. She couldn't afford to take sides, not without alienating one or the other and that she would not do. Not yet anyway.
There were so many things to be prepared for, so many complications. And she wished that Lynx and Eiku would set aside their private quarrel, in face of the larger tapestry. Neither would budge though. She had to be careful, to give in to Lynx sometimes and Eiku others, making sure that she didn't make it seem as though she were supporting one or the other.
And then she had admitted Lynx to her bed. Although it may have been a mistake, for Eiku was increasingly troublesome, it would at least give her one thing: Complete control of Lynx. In all the years that he'd served her, he'd only refused to do her bidding twice although he had argued with her about many decisions. Upon sleeping with her, he had practically ceased arguing and never refused her now.
It was ironic, she thought, that Lynx could be moved by such a tender emotion as love. And she was certain that that was what it was, she didn't just see lust in Lynx's eyes when he looked upon her she didn't just see desire. When he touched her, he tried as well as he could to make it pleasing to her as well.
No, she supposed he wasn't bad company… although not a particularly skilled lover, he was pleasant enough and she supposed that if she gave it much thought she would enjoy it.
She was getting sidetracked though.
Focus on the task at hand. The Shining Force. Was there any immediate solution to the Shining Force, that upstart band of peasants who dared to challenge the supremacy of Lord Darksol? If there was one, then it was dammed elusive.
She was willing to give it time. Although it had mostly been her forces that had suffered humiliation and defeat, it was Warderer's lackey, Gordon, who was dead, not one of hers. And Zalbard, also dead. She had immediately noticed the absence of his power, as she suspected that most of them had. And now her own army was going to stop suffering quite so badly. The war in Rune might be left solely up to her forces at the moment and might be far from won, but the immediate battle with the Shining Force would be a collaborative effort, mostly split between Warderer and Zeon.
And so, she felt that she had little to fear on that front for the moment. And she also hoped that this new plan would be enough to curb some of the plotting going on in Skull Castle.
While Max dared to threaten the very existence of the Darkness, it was essential that all servants of the darkness call a temporary truce until the Shining Force was properly killed. It was also highly regrettable that Zeon and Warderer were not taking to the idea.
Of course she detested them, probably more so than either one detested her, but the alliance was necessary. Zeon, she felt fairly certain, would bluster, shout, and threaten, but in the end he would not dispute the alliance, because he understood its importance.
And as for Warderer… ah yes, despite the fact that he was probably the single largest nuisance of Mishalea's life, the man could see the larger tapestry and often adjusted his own plans accordingly. The question was would he adjust his plans this time round?
She alone knew what motivated Warderer. Oh the others certainly could sense the hatred, the bitterness emanating from him the way that heat emanated from fire. But she alone knew why it did so. Warderer cared only for vengeance and would pursue it through insane acts the instant he sniffed the opportunity.
He should thank me. Hating me gave him the will to develop his talent.
Nonetheless, she was quite certain that the most self-control she had ever exercised in her entire life had been to resist killing that embittered agitator that day in the shrine. Indeed, it showed just how thoroughly she controlled herself now. The prospect of finally killing him had become even harder to resist as she realized that he was sick. At first she had thought little of his surprisingly changed appearance, it had been years since they'd met face to face, after all and changes were inevitable. But he was so much thinner, his face emaciated. Warderer dying? Perhaps his powers had already weakened? Oh, to take revenge, to wrap her power around Warderer and ambush him in his own stronghold, yes those were immensely pleasing thoughts. But, as her rage cooled, the more practical solution offered itself. Why expend energy she could not afford to waste when the problem of Warderer might simply solve itself? He was, she suspected, dying and it would be eminently more useful if the disease killed him rather than going through with the cumbersome business of killing him herself. And, after all these years it would be a sweet victory to win with no effort.
Abruptly Mishalea's mood of elation shifted. Warderer had such a talent. And it would have to die. What a waste.
That, Mishalea wearily acknowledged, was what came of not killing your friends before they became your enemies. At any rate, what was done was done and there was nothing to be gained from reviewing past regrets. She had created Warderer and now she would deal with the consequences.
For the moment she saw no prospects in the ancient hatred that bound her to rival factions of the darkness. And so she concentrated on the Shining Force.
Though her current reports of the group's movements were somewhat limited, they were nonetheless very interesting.
It appeared that there was some sort of army in the area that had already attacked the Shining Force once. Despite Max's undeniable charisma, Mishalea remained certain that the man made many enemies. She had tried to learn all that she could of this new army, but her own informants had failed her.
Kisaragi was reticent on the subject, but Mishalea was certain that the other woman was perfectly cognizant of the facts of this case. All the same she had expected that Kisaragi would only tell her what she wanted her to know, so she was content to let the matter be delicately dropped and concentrate on what Kisaragi could offer her: The Cypress Resistance.
According to all information the resistance was led by some strange creature called Gyan, reportedly a close connection to the royal family. There was probably nothing there, but Mishalea had ordered that followed up on. If she could seize on some weakness of this Gyan, then the Cypress Resistance might well collapse. She didn't want to help Warderer, but she was more worried about those malcontents than she was about him.
And even Gepple knew little of this new enemy of Max's.
Gepple…
She had not thought of the spy for days, but now she considered him. Had he known of Frabell's traitorous activities? Merely suspected? Or had no knowledge at all? Mishalea was cynically inclined to believe that he had known the whole time.
All the same, she wouldn't kill him for not telling her. Besides the possibility that she was wrong, he was the only reliable conduit she had to Death Woldol, and as long as the twisted former servant of Iom continued to be a player, she wanted to be informed about him. And though her own spies were thorough, Gepple could always find out much more than they could.
No, she wouldn't kill him for withholding information from her she would merely keep it in mind for the day when she finally did kill him as she was bound to do. Though there were very few ways to actually kill an undead enemy, Mishalea knew them all and was confident that Gepple would eventually fall. The easiest way to kill him would be through fire of course. An undead was after all, just the shade of a person in a dead body.
The shade fed off of the body and couldn't exist on its own without feeding once every few hours. And though the shade could abandon its host to risk trying to hunt out a new body and therefore avoid much danger, fire could destroy the shade. As could a special sort of ointment.
As she considered all this, her mind drifted back to her new alliance her strange new bedfellows. She was hardly concerned about Warderer himself, although she did privately suspect him of being the most talented sorcerer she had ever known, and she felt even less concerned with the minions he had surrounded himself with. Except mayhaps Hindel. Indeed, she knew too little about that man in the mask with the quiet voice.
It stirred a vague unease in her. And the man was out of place. Things that were out of place concerned her, especially where Warderer was concerned.
And the undead? She was rather scornful of them too. Woldol might, she conceded, be a problem, but he was hardly strong enough to prove a true enemy. Although… She shifted uneasily. What did Woldol want? He had been a powerful servant of Iom and had backed King Edmond the Reluctant when he tried to take the Cypress Throne from his brother. In life, Woldol had been a sadist and a plotter. He schemed and maneuvered, always for more power, and now that he was dead he seemed to do nothing but serve. It made her uncomfortable. Why should he subordinate himself in such a manner?
What do you want Woldol?
That left Zeon. He was powerful and she knew that a direct confrontation with him might be the end of her own life, but Zeon would be seriously wounded in such a struggle, so he hadn't tried it. Geshp could be a difficulty, but she was highly skeptical that he would choose to be. After watching him for a while, she was certain that he considered all possibilities as much as he could, and then chose the course of action that would benefit him the most.
Risking his life to kill her was not worth the trouble it would make at the moment and so she wasn't worried about him. Odd-Eye though… yes, he would be problematic. Very much so. Odd-Eye would always stand by his master Zeon, until he died anyway. And killing Zeon would be very difficult. Nobody knew that better than Mishalea.
His power was keyed to the Jewel of Evil. It was, in theory, possible to kill Zeon by destroying the jewel because he would then lose his power. It would be a risky ploy though and Mishalea had no intention of trying it unless she absolutely had to. That didn't stop her from trying to find the jewel though.
And Lord Darksol's revival was also a pressing concern. Long ago he had battled Zeon and been sealed away by the Devil King. Although he had triumphed at the same time by sealing Zeon's power in the Jewel of Evil and then cast it away. Zeon to this day had not found it. So his minions had protected him while he was in such a vulnerable position and she had saved Lord Darksol. The statue that dominated her shrine was Darksol. In order to break the sealing there were two sacrifices that would have to be made.
Darksol was a statue with gold plating. One sacrifice would destroy the plating… and the second would bring him back to this dimension. And it was imperative that she discover these sacrifices and resurrect him as quickly as possible.
And all had been going well.
Until that insolent peasant interfered. Damn Max!
He was rather hard to kill and she had been suffering the results of that far too much. And so she had had her spies invest considerable time in finding a potential traitor. Now reports indicated that there might be an opportunity in that direction, but it was hard to say. It might come to nothing. She wanted it followed up on very carefully though.
And there was also a rift between Max and Prince Nick. She doubted that it would prove to be very useful, but all the same she viewed the situation with mercenary optimism. She shifted restlessly as her thoughts turned to Ian. That would be a problem.
It was, she reflected sourly, regrettable that she hadn't been sure to kill him the moment she learned that he'd been born. Then again, at the time she'd had no idea how troublesome Kane's pestilential brat was going to be.
She still believed that her plan would have worked if not for Galm's interference. The deaths of the king, Max, Varios, Ward, Mae, and all the others would have been blamed on the treachery of the Cyprian ambassadors. Runefaust, Guardiana and Cypress would've proceeded to tear each other apart and everything would be perfect.
As it was, Galm had taken a hand and the Shining Force had been making her life a misery ever since.
Why did you interfere, Galm? Why do you stand in Lord Darksol's way?
She simply couldn't understand why he had personally started this war against her. Why he had allowed the Shining Force to exist. And that had brought her into her alliance with Rilix.
If a Vandal as powerful as Galm was going to get in her way, then she would need to find allies amongst the Vandal clan. And Rilix was perfect for her needs. The crone was bitter, twisted and hated Galm for reasons that she kept to herself. She was powerful and willing enough however, so whatever her past grievances were she would still be useful.
Mishalea sighed and shifted thinking about the most important of matters. She needed an heir. Disciples of the Darkness weren't necessarily invincible to time and Mishalea well knew that she could end up dead one day serving Lord Darksol.
There had been prospects over the years, but they had all come to nothing. Her own son Mephisto lacked the most important of qualities, and he had resented her and abandoned his birthright. Lynx and Eiku were bereft of the gift and Magus showed only a slight talent and Paezorta was too dangerous.
And Warderer, that frustratingly whimsical and unambitious young man, he had turned on her in wrath.
Focus on the task at hand.
She could at least do something about the Shining Force and she would therefore do so. Boldly, she stuck a hand in-between Lynx's legs whispering, "Lynx, Lynx my love."
He rose sleepily and murmured, "What is it my love?"
"I need a favor of you." She stared at him, putting all of her force in the green eyes that met his dark ones in a limpid gaze.
He nodded gently. "Of course. What is it?"
It was gratifying, she reflected, that he listened to her and looked at her rather than at her body. She replied, "I want you to give me Rune."
He sat up now and frowned. "How?"
"The key to Rune is Pao. I want you to take charge of it and send your army to conquer the plains. And I want you to be there in person."
In truth the key to Rune was Bustoke. The mountain town was impossible to take from the cliffs as the civilians could hold off her soldiers indefinitely. If Pao fell though, more soldiers could sweep through Bustoke from its northern woods and take the city. More soldiers could finally take over the whole of the Manarina Region. And then they could finally crush Guardiana.
Lynx understood all of this and would see the importance of her order.
He protested, "But I cannot just drop all of my duties here, it's important that I continue to—"
"Shhh," she whispered. "You won't have to be there the entire time. You will have to make regular trips though. I trust none of my generals to win a campaign the way that I trust you, Lynx."
Lynx hesitated, "But while I'm gone who will see to my duties pertaining the Shining Force?"
"Eiku will continue as he is doing. Bangar and Gwaid are both loyal to me as well. You won't have to worry about being gone for a while."
"Eiku." The contempt in his voice was pronounced. "He is not trustworthy to keep on M—"
"I'll also have Paezorta around to keep an eye on him as well as perform your duties while you're away."
He nodded now and said, "In that case, consider Pao yours."
Though Paezorta and Lynx had never been friends, she knew that they shared mutual respect for one another and had hoped that that same respect would be enough to quiet Lynx's protests.
She got up and then said, "Go back to sleep for now. I need to go and talk to Nosshu."
---
Lumba smiled, pleased. He hadn't expected the Shining Force, even just eleven of them, to be easy to kill, but this was luck, better than he had ever expected. To stumble upon Max himself, completely isolated.
He suspected that if Max was killed, the rest of the Shining Force would crumble. Oh, they'd probably still fight, but they couldn't actually replace him. And now it looked as though all of Lumba's work would pay off. It had been he, after all, who had suggested this trap to Chu Rao.
And it would be he who slaughtered Max and his companions. Killing the others wouldn't be easy though, and so he had requested additional soldiers for the assignment. And if he killed Max himself… well he would take the claim to Dava. Lumba had always had aspirations towards captaincy and he was certain that the death of Max could result in the realization of that dream.
Chu Rao might be a problem though. Despite being stronger than the others, his position as one of Dava's favored wasn't really all that secure. If he got in the way though, well Lumba could take care of that too.
---
Deanna had not said a word to him since they had left. And it was making Nick seethe with frustration. He didn't even like the man, but all the same it struck him as distinctly odd that he wouldn't speak.
So, he idly studied the patterns of light and shadow created by walking through a forest. He also asked questions about a duty, he was ashamed to say, he had neglected to get around to until now.
Mayfair and Yeesha told him what little they knew about the Cypress Resistance forces. Apparently Gyan was leading them, and for that Nick was glad. Gyan was an old friend of his as well as a loyal retainer to the Cypress Royal family. He had lost one of his eyes in service of the crown, but Nick was confident that Warderer would not hold Cypress long. If anybody could free it from his filthy hands it would be Gyan.
Gyan was also supported by some other old acquaintances of Nick's. Kashing, Gates, Shriek, and Randolf to name just a few. And he trusted all of them just as much as he trusted Gyan.
So he turned his thoughts back to his admittedly audacious scheme. Yes there was a risk to it, but the victory would be huge. Certainly huge enough to override any potential risk that the plan carried.
He tried to be patient with the others. He tried to remember that the Shining Force had not been fighting the dark god Iom for very long, that they had not seen what he could do. That they were used to fighting and hating Mishalea. He tried, but all the same he couldn't help thinking that Max was sometimes, remarkably stupid.
He didn't really blame the rest of the Force for agreeing with their leader though. That was what they were supposed to do, and they certainly believed that Max was right. As always, there needed to be someone at the top to rule or anarchy and chaos would spread. And therefore, the Force was doing the right thing, backing their leader up. It was just dammed inconvenient.
He had expected better of Princess… well, alright, Queen, Anri. She was after all, a member of royalty, educated, worldly, and rumored to be quite clever. He hadn't seen it though. She struck him as willful and foolish, especially the way that she didn't understand that striking Solo now was a necessity.
.
He supposed that the only reason she was believed to be so intelligent was because she ruled the wits of every man that she came across with her body.
The emasculating whore.
He decided to try and find out more about Deanna.
"So where do you come from?"
No response. He prodded, "Your parents?"
This time he noted that the upper corners of Deanna's mouth tightened for just a moment. A cold anger filled the young prince as he realized that the peasant was laughing at him.
He opened his mouth, when a hollow booming voice sounded out of nowhere.
"Shining Force. There is a whole platoon of Iom soldiers led by the General Barbara a mile to the north. You would be wise to strike out immediately."
Nick paused then murmured, "Ignore it. This is probably a cheap form of trickery in an attempt to lead us to an amb-"
The voice cut him off, "What you choose to believe or disbelieve is your own business, but whether or not you take it, this is my gift to you Shining Force."
Nick's jaw worked and then he said, "We can't ris-"
Deanna snapped at him, "This is a fine time for you to start worrying about caution! You should take it."
Nick peered quizzically at the young man and realized, with a bit of surprise to be honest, that he looked almost sick. "Why do you say that?"
"I… damn you, take it! It's telling the truth. I… I… take it!"
Natasha hesitated and said in a confused voice, "Deanna…"
Nick, upon seeing Deanna so agitated, felt less respectful and asked, "What makes you think that it's true?"
Upon receiving no response he prodded, "Does this have anything to do with your past? Were you a spy?"
WHAM!
Nick stumbled backwards blood gushing freely from his broken nose. "You hit me!" He was still more stunned, not from pain, but from the fact that Deanna had struck him.
"You hit me," he murmured sinking down into a sitting position.
In the meantime Deanna was snapping out orders. "We're going to go and investigate this claim with the view of attacking the platoon that we've been informed about."
Ruce shouted at him, "I'm not following you anywhere! You hit my prince!"
Natasha didn't pause at all, but jumped up beside Deanna, eyes blazing, and said, "I'm with Deanna at any rate."
Dawn quietly stood beside Natasha. Then after a pause, Claude flew over followed by Luke and Eric. Graham joined them. Yeesha, Wendy, Sig and Cray came next. Mayfair started walking over when Ruce put his hand on her arm and insisted, "You can't be condoning this!"
Mayfair looked down and then finally said, "Nick deserved it. He's been acting like a bloody bastard recently. And this venture was just plain suicidal."
Ruce started to protest when Nick cut him off, "Let her go. We'll… join him." The gods, how those words hurt! But it hurt even more to hear that Mayfair thought… thought that he was an arrogant bastard. He stared for a moment at Deanna and a cold, clear hatred flooded his veins. He silently swore to himself that the day he knew that Iom was no longer a threat he would kill the fucking bastard himself.
---
Domingo sighed. He was bored, lonesome, tired, and hungry. Ever hungry for Anri's love and knowing that he couldn't have it. He'd been a fool to ever hope that she'd love him… a fool to long for it even now, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
He sighed again.
"Is there anything wrong?"
He looked up quickly and swore under his breath.
Lowe.
He didn't feel like talking to anyone. Still he had to put on a pretense that he was alright, or he knew that the healer wouldn't leave him alone.
"Oh, I'm fine." He hovered in the air and started singing, "I'm the tap-dancing jellyfish! I'm the tap-dancing jellyfish! I'm the tap-dancing jellyfish! Hey!"
Lowe snorted, "You know, that would be more convincing if you didn't spend all of your time in this tent sighing and looking as though the sky had just fallen on your head."
"There's no need to be insulting."
Lowe almost laughed, but instead he just said, "Anyway you're going to go out and float around and talk to some people. And that's not a friendly suggestion. That's your doctor's orders."
Domingo glared at him. "Fine then. If you insist. Doctor," he added in a tone of biting sarcasm.
And so he did leave the tent to float around a bit. Only to run straight into Anri.
She smiled at him and said, "Oh. Hello. How are you doing?"
His mouth went dry at the sight of her beauty. "Oh, um… hello. That is, uh, I'm fine."
She said, "You've been cooped up in that tent for quite awhile you know. I hadn't realized that your wound was so serious."
He managed, "Well it wasn't really. I was just uh…" and his voice trailed off.
Anri asked, "I don't suppose you know what's been going on?"
Actually he did know, Lowe had been kind enough to keep him informed, but this was an excuse to stay and talk to her some. So he said, "No. I haven't heard much of anything. Except that Max went off to kill some devil or other."
"Well quite a bit has happened." She talked, and because Domingo mostly knew it all, he focused more so on her than her words. The rich vibrancy of this woman as she explained what had happened.
He suddenly realized that she was asking him something and he blinked. "Um… sorry, but what was that?"
"Well… you didn't seem to be listening so I—"
He quickly changed the subject. "So… what's happened to Guntz?"
"He took charge of sentry duty."
"Oh. Well that should be good. I mean he's a good fighter. And he'll do a fine job."
Anri raised a brow. She asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Of cour—"
There came shouts and screams out of no where. Anri spun about, and Guntz was running up to them battered and bleeding.
Before either one of them could phrase a question he burst out, "We're under attack! Everyone needs to be roused." He added, "It's Chu Rao again."
---
Diane almost screamed reflexively when Ian fell forward an arrow in the back of his shoulder, and she spun about to see… eight enemies menacing the small and, if the truth be told, somewhat drunken group in the bar.
Fumbling for her bow, she took aim at a big, strong-looking knight and released the shot. It slammed into his chest, slightly to the side of anything serious, but he looked surprised and it certainly slowed him down.
Her gaze swept over the other enemies quickly. Two tall men holding swords were there and three with axes. There was a mage lingering close to the back of the room with a rather shifty looking fellow sporting two knives who was hanging close to him.
Gort lurched to his feet giving vent to a bellow of rage. Musashi was slightly, but only slightly, steadier on his own legs. Ridion seemed fairly alert however, and Diane supposed that that much was a small blessing.
That was when an arrow zipped down from above only just missing Gort as he ran forward.
Another archer.
Damn.
Diane took a deep breath. What she was thinking was insane, just plain stupid. And yet… it had to be done.
She jumped forward and ran at the group. She supposed it was only their surprise at seeing an archer run straight at them that allowed her even the few moments that she had.
And then one man, wielding a sword, ducked down and took a swipe at her. She sucked in her stomach, just missing the slice, and swung her wooden bow at his head. It connected solidly and he dropped down, stunned.
Musashi was suddenly beside her, his katana dripping with blood. She glanced in confusion at the ground and saw the knight she had wounded, dead.
The samurai bellowed, "Get going! I'll try to hold them off."
She nodded and kept running.
The mage howled, "Stop her! You, head her off. The rest of us can take on these three."
She saw the knife-wielder nod, and crouched down flexing her muscles. She took a flying leap and landed awkwardly on the third stair up to the landing. Unfortunately her balance was a little wobbly and she stumbled back.
A hand grabbed hold of her boot pulling her further off-balance. Unfortunately for the man her foot reflexively kicked back, slamming hard into his face.
The man hissed with pain, but didn't let go of her foot and executed a cat-like jump onto the stair, immediately thrusting his blade at her breasts.
She moved, but was too slow, the knife slashing into her shoulder. With a faint cry bursting from her lips, she lowered her head and slammed it into his throat. Even as his head snapped back he took a wild swing at her. Without being conscious of her movements she jerked her bow in-between his legs and used it as a lever.
He fell onto the floor, his legs still on the stairs. She wasn't sure if he was dead or merely unconscious, but she knew he was no longer a threat and so she started back upstairs taking a brief glance behind her.
Gort lay on the ground, an arrow in his chest although one of the sword-bearers lay dead beside him. Ridion and Musashi were both hard-pressed and clearly wouldn't hold out long. They'd hold out a lot less long if she didn't stop that archer from firing at his leisure though.
Ridion fought like a demon, his axe dripping with blood and brains as one of the axe-bearers fell lifeless beside him. He grinned slightly and stared to bring his axe around to kill another when ice started growing up him.
He gasped in a panic as the ice enfolded him, molding around his body to destroy him or at the very least freeze him in place.
Musashi didn't hesitate at all. Seeing the same opening that Ridion had, his sword lashed out killing a second axe-bearer. His face didn't betray any pain as a sword lashed out across his chest, but Diane knew he couldn't take this for long. Even a warrior like Musashi… surely he couldn't take such punishment.
The upper landing was shadowy. Diane squinted, trying to make out the form of the archer who had taken out Gort. She took a cautious step forward and then felt a bowstring pressed against her throat.
The archer grabbed her neck and started shaking her. In a panic she bolted all of her weight into him. He fell back against the upper rail, but his hands never left her.
He grunted, "Damn… bitch! I'm gonna… gonna break your neck!
Life was occurring in slow motion. Even as she struggled to break his deadly grasp she could see the rest of the battle as though from some great distance.
Back on ground-level Musashi was breathing hard. He'd taken several minor wounds and a few bigger ones upon making some mistakes in combat. He'd also another long scratch across his chest from the sword-man when he'd taken an opportunity to kill the last of the axe-bearers.
The mage's eyes glowed with triumph as he asserted, "You're drunk."
"Might be," said Musashi, "but you're dead!" Moving so fast that his actions were a blur he slit the mage's throat with a cool reserve. The last man, the sword-bearer, suddenly looked wary and glanced cautiously to the upper landing hoping to have some back up.
Seeing Diane in a struggle for her life most like did little to increase his confidence. He made a low crouch and prepared to cross swords with his deadly foe. He ignored the ice cracking around Ridion. The dwarf made no move as he fell to the ground; which suggested unconsciousness if not death.
Diane brought her knee up, seeking to land a blow on the archer's groin. The archer shifted to protect his weakness striving to break her neck as he had threatened. In a sudden stroke of genius Diane bit the man's hand.
With a scream of pain both hands retracted from her throat. Seizing her bow she started raining blows upon him, gasping for breath. The man's hand dived into his tunic and out came a knife. Diane bulled straight into him and they both slammed up against the rail which gave an ominous crack.
The archer whispered, "No." His eyes widened in terror. "NO!" Struggling to make a leap back onto the platform he let the knife fall from his hand. Mistake. Diane thrust her bow out like a sword striking him in the middle of his chest. With a howl he went flying out into space and crashed into the wine shelf. Shards of glass flew everywhere as wines, ales, and beers poured out along the ground flowing all around the now dead man. Diane sank down numbly, trying to recover from his attempt to kill her.
In the meantime Musashi panted, "You're… you're much… better… than I… than I thought."
He was pressed up against the wall, the other man's sword at his throat. His only answer was a chill smile. And then the man collapsed on top of him. Musashi saw a small knife in his back. Standing at the foot of the stairs was Hanzou looking as he always looked: Sleek, shrewd, and dangerous.
"From behind," said Musashi, distaste plain in his voice.
Hanzou wearily replied, "I doubt you would like death much better. And you are very lucky."
"Why didn't you arrive before? Or were you sleeping through all this?"
"There were many more upstairs. I killed them all, but it caused a certain delay in reaching here. Thirteen I believe."
Musashi's tone was skeptical, "You want me to believe that you killed thirteen yourself?"
"I hadn't partaken in any of the alcohol that passed so freely past your own lips. And was therefore in a slightly more alert fashion when attacked," he pointed out. He added, "Enough of this. We should check on these two, and then see how Max fares. I doubt that he has not come under attack."
Musashi started to ask, "What abou—"
Hanzou cut him off, "Slade is dead."
Musashi hesitated, and then decided that for now quarrels could indeed wait. He went over to Gort and knelt, checking for breathing.
He called, "This one is still alive, though in bad shape. I think he can wait for a little while longer."
Hanzou replied, "I was about to say the same for Ridion. They are both lucky too."
The two men then stepped up and ran outside, hoping they would be in time to help Max.
---
Magus never even saw the attack coming. He started to open his mouth, doubtless to shout to his soldiers to kill Hans, when the king jumped up his knife held tightly to Magus's throat.
Red-faced in his rage Magus ordered, "Don't move! If I die here though, kill them all. Kill them al—"
His voice cut off in a squeal of pain as the former king of Alterone drew blood. He hissed, "Not another word Magus or I swear I'll cut your throat here and now."
Hans had stopped briefly, perhaps from surprise, but he continued, "You have murdered, plundered, and pillaged across this continent! You've raped our lands out of avarice and lust. You insult our women, kill our children, and gleefully slaughter those too weak to stand against you. You stand condemned to die for these crimes scum of the earth!"
Magus shrieked insanely, "Lies! All of them! Lies!"
One soldier, bolder than his comrades, jumped to his feet bellowing only to fall away with a shriek of pain as a lightning bolt struck him.
Alef stood beside Hans and warned, "Anyone who interferes in this trial will die."
Not a move was made in the Great Hall. None of the soldiers doubted the power of the wizadress.
Magus shouted, "This isn't a trial this is a—OWCH!"
The king snapped, "Be quiet!"
And that was when one of the windows shattered a stone flying in to strike the king right in his knee. He gave a cry and buckled weakly. Magus turned and sent a clobbering blow to the back of his neck, and then jumped down just dodging Hans' arrow. He croaked, "Kill them you fools! Kill them!"
Chaos erupted in the hall as a voice roared, "FREE ALTERONE!" General Torl was there with his small army charging to slaughter the stumbling soldiers that Magus commanded.
The king weakly managed to look up. He saw Magus's back as he ran towards the window. Magus turned away, almost immediately. There was fire outside the King realized, fire that streaked and illuminated Magus's face. The King drew an amazed breath. Magus was afraid. That changed everything. Mishalea's servant ducked low and slunk from the hall.
The king clambered to his feet already knowing that Magus was heading towards the secret passage. He ran after his enemy, and although the king wasn't much of a runner he could still see Magus pretty well.
Magus ran slapbang into a guard who started babbling, "Sire, there's an uprising in the cellars, Sire! The enemy's escaping!"
The king smiled.
Hear that Magus? Your worst nightmare has come to life!
Magus croaked, "There are reinforcements coming just behind me. Hold off the prisoner until they get there."
After running a little further Magus yanked on a chain in the ornamental dragon's head. It would open the way to his escape route. He glanced behind himself quickly, and as he did saw a flagon of wine slammed into his face.
As Magus spat and cursed at the wine dripping down his face, the king awkwardly advanced, a sword in his inexperienced hand as he growled, "Fight me you bastard! I won't let you get away!"
Magus ran at his enemy and seized a candlestick holder to use as his weapon. The king lashed out, but Magus easily dodged it and sent a blow straight onto the king. Stumbling back slightly, the king tried to ready himself, but Magus lashed out again. And again and again. Finally the king fell to his knees, his sword dropping from his hand.
Magus eagerly grabbed the weapon and set it to the king's chest, slashing it open.
The world had gone very dark and cold. The king never knew when Magus finally ran away. He just lay there, endeavoring to draw in breath through his ruined chest as each breath he heaved sent a shockwave of pain throughout his body.
"Free Alterone," he mumbled as he lay there dying for a dream.