Chapter 18 – Desperate Ambush
"He died like a true knight."
Felix blinked and looked up at his father. That stoic, solemn face, as immoveable and gray as a statue. They both stood alone at the edge of the gravesite, dozens of flowers scattered on the casket inside. Above, storm clouds lazily swirled round and round, preparing to drench the land.
"What?" he asked. The sky rumbled, distant thunder warning of the impending storm.
Rodrigue heaved a deep sigh, the cloak clasped about him hanging heavy on his shoulders. "I said he died like a true knight."
Died like a true knight. Those words infuriated him. How dare he glorify Glenn's death like that? This wasn't honorable. It wasn't what he chose! Felix curled his fist and raised his arm, ready to strike Rodrigue across the jaw.
Then he paused. This wasn't right. He remembered the gravesite and his father saying those words, but the circumstances had been slightly different. Another clap of thunder boomed overhead and beneath it, an unusual noise. A melody, slow and haunting. Felix glanced behind them, but there were no other mourners on the hillside. Only the pair of them.
"Yes, never forgetting his sacred oath," Rodrigue continued, stooping to the pile of dirt beside them. He grabbed a handful and sprinkled it into the hole, humming along to the sad lament. "Magic words and crafted lies." His voice sounded strange, muted and warped.
Tiny pinpricks like those of a dozen hungry mosquitos needled the back of Felix's skull. An ache mounted at the base, spread through his jaw and behind his eyes. "What are you babbling about?" None of this was right.
"Keep the veil across your eyes," Rodrigue sang, flicking the last flecks of dirt off his gloved hand. Around him and the hole, the air rippled with watery distortions. Robed smokey figures appeared in the center of them, fading in and out of view. The melody appeared to come from them. Felix couldn't see their faces, only black empty voids in the hoods.
Thunder growled and the skies darkened, blotting out the last vestiges of the sun. "A true knight," Rodrigue said again. Only now he didn't sound like himself at all. His voice dropped an octave and was filled with malice and bloodlust. Where his father once stood, Anaximandros leered over him, the scars standing out brightly against his expression.
In the pit, the casket creaked open. Felix spared a quick look down and saw himself in the casket. Withered, blanched, a husk with milky white eyes and moth-eaten clothes. His stomach plummeted into the soles of his feet as the hellish corpse lurched forward, snapped its neck up at him with an audible crack, and drew its sword.
"A true knight." Anaximandros' voice slithered in his ears as the robed figures solidified, their chorus swelling. The other Felix clawed at the dirt, digging into it, crawling up, up the side of the grave. Coming for him. Coming to drag him back into that casket. That prison it had escaped.
"No!" Felix tried to shout, but it came out as a whisper. He unsheathed his sword, holding it before him and backed away, keeping his weapon at the ready. He pointed it back and forth between Anaximandros, the grave, and the strange figures, daring any of them to approach.
After a few feet, his boot slipped into emptiness. He spun around and found himself back at the edge of the grave, again facing the demented version of himself, its translucent skin pulled tight across the skull. Despite the blank eyes, he saw a malice in that twisted form that matched Anaximandros' own.
Anaximandros stood to the side, watching Felix's terror with utter glee while lightening flashed above. He belted out a hateful laughter than mixed with the rolling thunder, the entire sky echoing his mocking, and he called out to Felix, "Our true knight!"
Roaring, Felix swung at Anaximandros and his sword clashed against the solid steel of another sword. The corpse-like Felix, who sneered at him with no lips and long, rotted teeth. Anaximandros and the robed figures vanished. It was only the two of them.
"Knight," the other Felix rasped, like its throat hadn't been used in eons. Its strength, however, matched Felix's and the corpse swung its sword high. Felix caught it, stumbling backwards a step to block it. "Magic. Oath."
The corpse ripped its sword back and swung with blinding speed, swishing through the air. Felix caught the first blow, but before he could recover, a sting ripped through his ribs. The sword cut through his clothes, leaving a trail of red and black that smoked. Then another piercing pain in his leg. As he wobbled, the sword slipped out of his thigh.
"No knight here," the twisted Felix clucked its dusty tongue. "No knight."
Felix raised his sword in time to catch his foe's next blow. This creature, whatever it was, moved as fast as he did on his best days. Maybe faster, despite its decrepit body.
"Magic, oath, knight. Magic, oath, knight," it taunted in a sing-song tone akin to rocks tumbling into a pit. It swung low and Felix managed to parry the swipe, taking another step back. Again, his foot slid into emptiness. Somehow, he was on the edge of the pit again.
"Magic, oath, no knight."
Felix gritted his teeth. What was that insipid chanting? It sounded familiar, like he'd heard it before. But where?
The knight travels across the land. Those words popped into his head. As though he knew them or could hear them? Even now, an echo swirled through him. There was no one else at the grave, no other actual noise beyond the shuffling corpse approaching him, sword at its side. Still, he heard those words.
Never forgetting sacred oath. An oath. He'd forgotten something. Or someone? Someone close to him. Because of… magic words. Yes, magic. To forget about…
"Annette."
The other Felix paused, tilting its head on snapping vertebrae. It raised its arm, dirt trickling to the ground, and pointed its sword at his face. "No oath. No knight."
Felix planted his feet into a fighting stance, ignoring the burning in his leg and ribs. He raised his sword, daring the monstrosity to attack. Its jaw cracked open wide beyond any human limits and unleashed an unholy howl as it rushed him.
It went high. Felix blocked it and stabbed low. The thing weaved to the side and cut at his arm. Pain coursed through his shoulder, but he pushed through, stepping in close and swiping his sword across the creature's chest. It stumbled backwards toward the pit, the slash across its chest an empty gorge of dust and bone.
Felix threw himself forward, ramming his good shoulder into the corpse. It fell over the side, screaming and flailing as it fell into the casket. The heavy wooden lid slammed shut, devouring it and mountains of dirt tumbled in from the sides, burying the monstrosity.
Collapsing on his knees as the adrenaline subsided, Felix felt the full effects of his injuries. He couldn't hold his sword, but his fingers refused to unclench themselves. The gravesite blurred and Felix closed his eyes, his stomach churning. What kind of poison had that corpse stung him with?
I will always wait for you.
Annette. He heard her. He searched the hillside, but he couldn't see her. He crawled away from the grave, listening intently. He had to find her. He had to.
I will always wait for you.
Darkness. That was all he could see now. No, have to fight it, he told himself. Have to find her. Have to. Have to.
Annette.
"—have to help him."
"But is he dead?"
"I can't tell. There's a pulse, but it's thready."
"Some kind of shock?"
"Maybe you should—"
"I'm not letting him go!"
Voices above him. And a soft cushion beneath him. So very soft and pleasant. He could lay on it for hours.
He opened his eyes slowly and saw a myriad of fuzzy, colorful blobs around him. One of them boomed with a loud, "He's awake! Get back, get back. Let's give him some room!"
One remained, a fiery red that gradually came into focus, shaping into a face he knew very well. Those great big blue eyes watered as he reached up to brush her cheek. "Annette." Simply saying her name felt like it lifted all the weight and misery off his chest and levitated him.
She hiccupped, tears rolling down her cheeks, and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Then she knelt over him, pressing her forehead to his, her long curls covering both of them. "I thought I lost you."
"You'll never lose me. I love you."
Annette choked out a short laugh. "I-I love you too."
He reached blindly for the back of her head and kissed her. She squeaked in his mouth, but gladly returned it. By the goddess, he hadn't experienced anything so wonderful in who knew how long. He could've laid there for hours, kissing her, touching her, being with her. It was heavenly. She'd brought him back from the brink and he swore to dedicate the rest of his life to her then and there.
All these thoughts raced through his mind, each vying to be the first out. Instead, he asked, "What's under my head?"
She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "What? Oh, uh, my lap."
He turned, confirming it, and sank his head further into her. "It's so soft."
Annette stammered, her cheeks flushed red. "Uh, uh, um, F-Felix? Maybe now's not the time?"
Suddenly, he remembered the other blobs and voices attached to them. Sitting up, a headache pounded against his skull. Almost as bad as the insufferable grins of Dimitri and Ingrid.
"Good thing we left Gustave with the defenses," Ingrid said.
"Indeed." Dimitri offered a hand and Felix took it reluctantly.
"Not another word," he warned them, standing up and wincing. Dimitri raised his hands innocently.
"How are you feeling?" Ingrid asked.
"Like hell. But I'll survive. What's happening?" Then, a sudden onrush of memories slammed into him like a tidal wave. They washed away the implanted false ones that he had been cursed with and he remembered everything now. Every truth, every underhanded deed he did while under that spell. How this losing predicament was all his doing.
Annette caught onto it before the others and touched his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay."
"No, it's not. This is all my fault. I have to fix this." Easier said than done. Anaximandros' army outnumbered them by a good margin.
"And we'll help you do that," Dimitri said. "You're our secret weapon now, after all. If you could distract them, we could escape."
"I was sent in to lower one of the bridges," he said. "But Anaximandros split up his forces to focus on both sides. Even if I manage to keep the attention of one half of his army, the others will be waiting for you at second gate. Do you have reinforcements coming?"
He exchanged a glance with Ingrid. "We're hoping to—"
"So, no then." The forces outside of Fhirdiad presented a problem too, but Felix forget about them for now. The army directly outside the castle was the immediate problem. "Can't meet them head-on. Can't hold up here because they'll find a way in. And if you plan to use me, I can't linger in the castle or they'll get suspicious."
"What about confusing their army?" Annette asked. "Spreading some chaos and escaping during that?"
That wasn't too bad. "Anaximandros," Felix said slowly and quickly turned to the others. "He's the leader. If we could take out him and the rest of his group, we might be able to throw them into disarray."
"Those Who Slither in the Dark," Annette whispered.
Felix nodded. "Yes. There are some devout rebels among the army, but there's plenty of mindless vagrants and murderers among them. If you break down their command, then their army should fall apart enough that we could fight through and escape."
"How do we do it then?" Dimitri asked. "Another trap?"
"I doubt they'll fall for any more bridge traps easily," he said. "If we could lure them into the castle, then we could cut them off, take out Those Who Slither in the Dark, and leave during their panic. To lure them in, we'll need some enticing bait." He looked pointedly at Dimitri.
The king's lips thinned, frowning at the idea. "Are you sure that's the only way?"
"It's the one most likely to work. The longer we stand here debating it, the more suspicious they'll become." Ingrid didn't seem pleased by the plan either and he couldn't blame them. Minutes ago, he'd have had their heads on pikes. Now he was asking them to place Dimitri's life in his hands. "I won't let anything happen to you. After all," the next words sat like bile on his tongue, "I'm the Shield of Faerghus."
Dimitri's face cracked into a smile. "Tough to get that one out, eh?" Felix cut him a stern glare, but the king relaxed. "Very well. We'll go with your plan."
"Might want to rough him up a bit," he suggested to Ingrid. "Make it look authentic that I bested and captured him."
"Surprised you don't want to do it yourself," she said, steering Dimitri out the door.
As enjoyable as the thought was, he was more preoccupied with Annette. Now that they were alone together, he could finally talk to her in peace. Only, as he stood there, watching her shuffle her feet nervously, he realized he hadn't the foggiest idea what to say to her. Nothing seemed appropriate to the situation and the mood had changed from earlier when he first awoke.
"Thank you," he mumbled and waved a useless arm around the room. "For saving me." That was woefully inadequate and he searched for something to add onto it.
"You're welcome," she said and swung her arms at her sides for a moment, reaching out towards his hands. He shifted a little, letting her grab one hand, her soft, delicate fingers curling around his rough, calloused digits. "How much do you remember?"
"Most of it. You, especially."
She blushed at his answer and her eyes crinkled in delight. Then she looked down. "I really did think we'd lost you. When I saw you at the town gate, you were like someone else entirely."
He shrank inwardly at that. To think that he had frightened the woman he loved the most like that was unforgiveable. "I'm sorry."
"I know you were after Dimitri. But when I saw you, I thought you might even…"
He tilted her chin up and offered her a small smile. "I'd never hurt you. Even while under their spell, all I could think about was protecting you. Honest. In fact, I kept trying to plan how best to keep you out of danger."
"That sounds like you," she said, giggling and his heart beat faster. She leaned into his chest and he embraced her automatically, the familiar sensation long missed. He could've stayed there for hours holding her.
Annette raised her head, stood up on her tiptoes, and pecked his lips. As she started to pull back, he bent down, refusing to break the kiss. "You won't get away that easily," he murmured against her mouth.
"Neither will you."
"I wish we had more time."
"We will," she said and hit her fist lightly against his chest. "Promise you'll come back to me."
He grinned and rested his chin in her hair, inhaling that sugary scent that clung to her as if he'd stepped into a sweet shop. Although he detested such things, as always, she was the sole exception and he wanted to surround himself in her smell and warmth. "I promise."
Felix wasn't wrong about the army attempting to find a way in. When they returned to gather Gustave and the others, they found that some more soldiers arrived at the front gate, carrying large beams of timber that spanned the gap of the moat. "They've brought a couple so far," Gustave pointed out from one of the smashed holes in the doors. "They're slow going, but it won't be long before they have their own bridge across and bring in another ram. We've shot down the few who tried to cross. However, I fear it won't be long before they start to get through."
The archers in the towers reported that the rebels were still at work throwing grapples at the drawbridges, windows, or anything they can reach. The castle soldiers ran themselves ragged, cutting any lines that caught on.
Once Dimitri and Felix explained their plan, Gustave and his men greased the ropes holding the chains with the last of their oil. Annette hoped it would be enough. They didn't have nearly as much as last time.
She walked with Felix, Dimitri, Ingrid, and Gustave to the west drawbridge, surrounded by a detachment of soldiers. Dimitri looked the worse for wear, sporting bruises and carefully-placed cuts along his face, and dangling pieces of armor. He took it all in stride though, standing tall and proud like an exemplary king of Faerghus.
Annette caught Felix's eye once or twice, sneaking him a small look of encouragement or an "I love you." She stopped when Gustave noticed something between them. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at his daughter and Felix, both of whom avoided looking at him or each other for the rest of the march.
She feared for Felix and Dimitri as the soldiers scattered to their hiding places in the foyer of the west entrance. This could all go wrong so quickly. As Gustave headed to his spot, Annette leaned up and pecked Felix's cheek. "Good luck," she told them, then ran to the right side, disappearing behind the column closest to the gate and pressing her back to it. She held her hand out in front of her, a dozen spells at the ready.
In the towers above, Dorothea, Bernadetta, and Ingrid waited with the rest of their archers, prepared to fire a volley and set fire to the bridge once the rebels crossed. She hoped they could make the shot again and fast.
Felix opened the doors and loosened the wheel of the drawbridge, letting it slowly fall flat to the waiting army outside. He hadn't been kidding about the size of their forces. Annette counted at least a dozen row of rebels and thugs, standing eight abreast, all armed to the teeth.
A large figure donned in golden armor and a heavy helmet stepped forward, brandishing a large ax before him. Judging from the surprise of Felix's face, she supposed it wasn't Anaximandros. Felix raised his sword to the figure and pushed Dimitri ahead of him, showing off the king, hands bound and utterly defeated. Some of the rebels cheered and whistled at the sight.
However, the armored leader didn't step forward. He beckoned Felix to come out further. They weren't taking the bait
Felix exchanged a glance with Dimitri. Annette already sensed their unspoken foolish notion and nearly had an aneurysm at it. Was this how Ingrid felt all the time around these two? She wanted to leap out and call them back, insist they abandon the plan, but she couldn't.
From across the foyer, Gustave drew his ax and signaled the soldiers to stay put. Felix stepped out onto the bridge with Dimitri, dragging him along as his prisoner. The armored leader stepped out onto the bridge along with a handful of troops. They still didn't seem to be buying it and Anaximandros wasn't in sight either.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong about all this. Her father must've sensed it too. He raised his axe and shield up higher and spread his legs, ready to sprint to help.
Felix and Dimitri met the rebels, thankfully less than halfway out. Annette couldn't shake that feeling of dread though, like they were walking into a trap instead of the other way around.
Suddenly, a strangled cry shot out of the darkness deeper in the foyer. Before she could turn, a hand clapped over her mouth and a cold piece of steel pressed into her throat. "Conjure one spell," a quiet voice threatened, "and you'll end up like your comrade." On the edge of her vision, she spotted a dead soldier, slumped against a wall with a knife in his back.
"Now let's move," the person commanded her. He dragged her out into the open and toward the bridge. Gustave immediately noticed and started to move, but the figure held the knife up higher, digging the blade under her chin. Her father stopped and ground his teeth, a fury on his face that she'd rarely seen.
What was the villain holding her planning to do? Kill her in front of Felix? Use her as a bargaining chip?
Speaking of Felix, she heard him as they stepped out onto the bridge. "I'll ask again. Where is Anaximandros, Chilon?"
"He's elsewhere," the golden leader rumbled.
"Bring him here. I have his prize." Felix hadn't noticed Annette and her captor yet. Dimitri had and his single eye widened. The plan was ruined.
"Yes. I'm sure he'll be most pleased with that. You know, he was worrying about you. We all were. We feared you had died in there. But I see there wasn't any cause for concern. After all, you're a loyal ally, aren't you? And we're your loyal allies too."
"Obviously."
"Allies look out for one another. Good thing too," Chilon pointed to Annette and Felix turned, shock and anger immediately overwhelming his calm demeanor. "What's that you've got there, Dolofonos?"
"A soldier of the king," Dolofonos said, yanking Annette closer. "Seems a few people were planning an ambush in the foyer." He tutted Felix and shook his head. "Very sloppy. You need to be on guard against this filth. Lucky for you, Anaximandros is well aware of how sneaky they are and made sure I got in first to slip over here and help out."
"What do you mean?" Felix asked. His gaze flicked to Annette, trying to reassure her. Little good it did with a knife pressed to her throat. If only she could cast one spell, just one, they might escape.
"He's on the other side. Got a couple others in and he's about to bring down that drawbridge too."
"Between that and the makeshift bridge at the front, we've got them surrounded." Although she couldn't see him, Annette heard the smug smile in Chilon's voice. "Now," he raised the blade of his ax to Dimitri, lifting his chin up, "Anaximandros wants to handle him personally. But I don't think he'll mind if we take care of the rest now. Starting with her."
"Care to do the honors?" Dolofonos asked Felix, turning Annette toward him. It wasn't really a question. Chilon's hands tightened on the handle of the ax, silently threatening him. The handful of rebels laughed darkly among themselves. Dolofonos tilted Annette's chin a little higher, showing off the knife, clearly telling him that if Felix didn't do it, he would. Then they'd slaughter Felix where he stood.
Annette looked at Felix, who appeared unsure what to do. Was it true what they said? Had Anaximandros already taken the castle? Had they really lost?
The far side of the bridge trembled, the rebels stepping onto it, swelling with bravery. With a shout, a dozen or so rushed for them, stampeding toward victory.