Shadow Prowler Part 27

Groaning in disappointment and cursing the entire world, I turned over onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Cowardly sleep had fled from me like a healthy man fleeing from a leper. At first I thought I'd been woken by another one of the goblin's tricks. But I couldn't see the little jester anywhere around. I hoped very much that he was sleeping like a log somewhere as far away from me as possible, after exhausting himself during the day. After all, it must have taken a serious effort for him to give Harold a lesson in how to control a horse and then go on to wear me down with all his whining about the chain mail I hadn't chosen, so that eventually I had to give way and go with him to select an iron shirt from the king's armory. The delighted jester had taken himself off to his bed with a smile of triumph.

But if Kli-Kli wasn't to blame, then what was it that had woken me up? There it was again! That was it, definitely. Those shouts. They had woken me up. And that clash of weapons.

It sounded as if there was a full-scale battle taking place in the corridors of the palace. But then who was fighting whom, and what about?

I tried to think on my feet as I searched for my trousers in the darkness and at the same time groped for the crossbow and the bag with my bolts that I had left on a chair. Outside, bugles sounded to rouse the guard. First one, then another, and after a short while the alarm signal was ringing throughout the palace grounds.

I grabbed my crossbow and dashed to the window. There was no question of lighting a candle. It would have taken too long to find one. I would have to load the crossbow by the light of the stars. Yes, I can load it in complete darkness, but it would have been annoying to confuse an ordinary bolt with one of the magical ones, then roast myself as well as my target when I fired.

"Alarm! Alarm!" The bugles rang out, echoing each other.

Outside, people were dashing about with lighted torches-for some reason, not one of the magical lanterns the Order had installed in the grounds of the palace was lit. Several guardsmen ran past right below my window, two of them carrying a wounded man. A little farther off there was a unit of soldiers heading in the opposite direction with the points of their spears glinting menacingly in the flickering light.

Two human shadows darted out of the palace and ran off into the depths of the garden. One of the guards in the first detachment spotted the fugitives and most of the soldiers ran off in pursuit, leaving their two comrades with the wounded man.

One of the men they were chasing stopped and threw his arms up. Then he started spinning round and swaying from side to side. The guards slowed from a run to a walk, approaching the strangers cautiously, not really sure what this madman was doing. They realized the answer to the riddle too late. The man stopped his crazy spinning and flung one hand out toward the soldiers, and the guards were simply tossed in all directions like children's straw toys.

Darkness! He was a genuine shaman!

In immediate response to the shaman's magic, a silver streak of lightning struck from somewhere in the upper stories of the palace. I ducked down in surprise, trying to get rid of the multicolored carousel that was spinning in front of my eyes, and when I could see normally again, the fugitives no longer existed. On the spot where they had been standing there was a huge round circle of scorched earth, with the gra.s.s still burning around its edge. Some magician of the Order had really put everything into his blow against the enemy. There was nothing left of the intruders.

The bugles began calling again, sounding the alarm and calling men to arms. The din outside my door was unbelievable. There was already fighting at the end of the corridor where my bedroom was. Which meant there must be a lot more of the attackers, otherwise why couldn't I hear cries of victory from all those guardsmen?

"The king! Stalkon! Valiostr!" The royal guard roared out their battle cry.

"The Nameless One! Vengeance!" was the reply.

So it was the supporters of the Nameless One who had resolved on this bold move!

Those rotten skunks were everywhere now. Sometimes it seemed like it would be wise to suspect your own frail old granddad of sympathy for the Nameless One, even if he wouldn't normally harm a fly. And the stronger the rebel magician became, the more supporters he acquired among humankind.

Someone pounded hard on my door and I trained the crossbow on it just in case.

"Harold, it's Kli-Kli! Open up, quick!"

The voice certainly sounded like the one that belonged to the king's jester.

The battle was moving quite rapidly in my direction and if the little goblin really was outside my door, he could be in big trouble pretty soon.

I hastily opened the lock.

"I'm not alone, don't shoot!" shouted Kli-Kli, darting past me into the bedroom like a little green mouse, with two shadows following straight behind him. They were a little bit bigger than the goblin, but a lot smaller than me.

"Close the door," said the goblin. It was a good idea. "Deler, let's have some light."

I did as I had been told and turned the key, wondering if we ought to barricade the door with furniture.

A small flame flared up, and then a torch, illuminating the faces of my visitors. The jester was without his cap with the bells and his expression was unusually serious and intent. There was a dark, shallow scratch on Kli-Kli's cheek and he was clutching an ax in both hands. Standing beside the jester was Deler, holding the torch in one hand and a double-edged poleax in the other. It had a vicious-looking half-moon blade. Unlike the goblin, the dwarf didn't look disheveled. Even the hat with the narrow brim sat on the short fellow's head as if it were a part of him.

The third visitor was Hallas. The gnome paid no attention to me, as if he were simply visiting his home in the Steel Mines, and ran across to the window and looked outside. He casually leaned his battle-mattock against the wall.

"This is Master Harold," said Kli-Kli, introducing me to the warriors.

Deler politely doffed his hat; the gnome simply nodded.

"What's happened, Kli-Kli?"

"An attack! They were trying to get through to the king, but the guards suspected something was wrong and the sparks started flying!"

"And the rotten skunks have really got cheeky!" Deler boomed. "They're dressed up in guards' uniforms."

"But who are they?"

"Crayfish," the gnome said, and spat, without turning away from the window. "Creatures of the Crayfish Dukedom. And probably other supporters of the Nameless One from among your townsfolk!"

He pulled a face that suggested he cared no more for the townsfolk of Avendoom than he did for gkhols.

"Anyway, listen, Harold," the jester started gabbling. "One of those units is moving down the corridor toward us. Alistan's lads are holding it up, but still falling back, the numbers are too uneven. We have to help them."

A din as loud as the one in the corridor suddenly broke out below the window.

"Those lads are done fighting." Hallas chuckled and slammed his fist down on the windowsill in an excess of enthusiasm. "The guards have threaded the lot of them on their spears."

"Come away from the window, you bearded fool!" the dwarf shouted excitedly. "We have to give the others a hand now!"

"Fool yourself!" the gnome retorted to his partner, but he came over to us, picking up his mattock on the way.

"How can we help them, Kli-Kli?" I asked, pulling on my shirt and ignoring the argument between the two Wild Hearts.

Four of us against that number of men? And not forgetting that two of us didn't even know how to hold a weapon properly. Or were the dwarf and the gnome so good that they didn't need me and the goblin?

"The guards are falling back and those skunks are following them. As soon as the killers are past our door, their backs will be exposed. And that's when we'll strike."

"They're getting close already," said the gnome, listening to the battle with his ear pressed against the door.

My face must have betrayed too skeptical an opinion of the goblin's crazy plan, because Kli-Kli added: "Harold, use your brains! You've got bolts loaded with fire magic and ice! If we blast them from the rear, it will really make a difference!"

"How do you know what I've got?" I asked, already unloading the crossbow, removing the ordinary bolts.

After a moment's hesitation, I flung the bag with the rest of the charges over my shoulder.

"I had a rummage in the things your dwarf tradesman brought with Stalkon's ring," Kli-Kli replied, not embarra.s.sed in the least.

"Just a little farther!" Deler had joined Hallas and was frozen beside the door, holding up the torch and his poleax at the ready.

"Gentlemen, don't get in the way," I warned the Wild Hearts. "Or you'll catch it from my bolts, too."

"Magic!" said the gnome, pulling a disdainful face.

"Don't you be so clever," Deler told him. "Whatever you say, Master Harold. And if this wiseacre tries anything, I'll rip his beard off."

Just then, the gnome roared: "Now!"

He swung open the door and went tumbling out into the corridor, together with the dwarf. Kli-Kli and I followed right behind them. I prayed hard that I wouldn't end up on the edge of someone's sword.

The guards were fighting desperately, but retreating. They were being forced back by about twenty-five men in exactly the same gray and blue uniforms as themselves, but with white armbands. Fortunately the corridor was rather narrow, so the king's men could more or less hold off their attackers, who were unable to take advantage of their superior numbers. And the spears that the small group of His Majesty's men wereholding also gave them a certain advantage over the enemy. The attackers were advancing in two ranks. The ones at the back had not yet joined in the battle and were simply walking along behind. Their backs were unprotected. ...

I had to take advantage of that as quickly as possible. The guardsmen had almost exhausted themselves holding back the enemy.

The bolt struck the crowd of conspirators, releasing the elemental fire. There was a rumble and a flash, and someone screamed in horror and pain. At least five of the killers were dispatched into the darkness. All that was left of the man I had hit was a smoking firebrand. But I must give our enemies due credit-they were quick to figure out what was going on. Seven men separated off and came in our direction, leaving the rest of the unit to continue the battle.

The gnome roared and went dashing toward the fighters who were running in our direction, but Deler tossed aside his torch to free his hand and managed to catch Hallas by the beard and yank it downward, hard. Hallas howled in surprise and indignation and fell to the floor. Deler and Kli-Kli did the same, knowing what was about to happen.

I shot for the second time, aiming at the ma.s.sive brute who was bearing down on me with the fluent stride of a delirious wild boar. This time there was a shrill ringing sound as the elemental snow was released from its magical trap, and my face was p.r.i.c.ked by hundreds of chilly little needles. The impact was quite close, and it was a miracle that my own skin didn't suffer any unpleasant consequences. As was only to be expected, the brute fell apart into two solidly frozen halves and the two men who were running immediately behind him had all the protruding parts of their bodies frozen solid, too. The others were stunned-they shook their heads, and put their hands over their eyes as they slid about on a sheet of ice and they all howled. Especially the lad who now had icicles instead of fingers and whose clothes were covered with a crust of snow.

Hallas started beating the enemies who had still not recovered from my latest shot. Deler decided that he wanted a bit of amus.e.m.e.nt, too, and his poleax started singing in unison with the gnome's battle-mattock. One of the enemies tried to strike at him from above with his sword, but the ginger-headed dwarf dived under the blade as it descended, and sliced off both of the bold warrior's legs. The man fell, choking on his scream, and the gnome ruthlessly finished him off by bringing his mattock down on his head. In literally half a minute there was no one left of the bold group of seven, or rather the group of four who had survived my shot. The dwarf and the gnome made an inspired team.

"Stalkon and the Lonely Giant!" Hallas roared, waving his mattock as he ran toward the rest of our enemies, who were now battling with guardsmen revitalized by the unexpected help that had come their way.

Deler went after him.

The advantage of numbers was on our side now, and the guards all roared together as they crushed the final resistance.

"We showed them!" Kli-Kli said spiritedly.

The goblin jester was standing there with his short little legs set wide apart, and the blade of the ax, which looked huge in his hands, touching the marble floor. He noticed my skeptical look.

"All right, all right, Harold! You showed them," he agreed amicably. "But if I hadn't been defending you ..."

"You were defending were defending me me?" I asked indignantly, reloading the crossbow as I spoke, but this time with ordinary bolts.

"Yes, I was!" It was not easy to embarra.s.s this jester. "But even if you don't agree that I saved you, my contribution is still worthy of all the treasures of Siala. After all, I was the one who invented the brilliant plan of attacking the unsuspecting enemy."

"Be careful you don't brag yourself to death," I told Kli-Kli as I watched the final villain being run through by a guardsman's sword.

"Behind you, Harold!" the goblin squealed, and I swung round sharply.

An entire detachment of warriors was coming toward us from the other end of the corridor, but it was hard to tell who they were-guardsmen or enemies dressed in guards' uniforms.

When they saw me point the crossbow at them, the new arrivals shouted: "Stalkon and the Spring Jasmine!"

"Harold, they're ours!" the jester shouted, concerned that I might shoot the king's younger son by mistake. He was given the name Spring Jasmine for that time when ... But that's another story altogether. I hope someday there'll be a time and a place for it, and grateful listeners.

The large detachment of guardsmen under the command of Stalkon the Spring Jasmine drew level with us. Miralissa strode alongside them, bow in hand, a long dagger at her side dripping with gore. Her eyes sparkled, as always, but this time it was an icy, focused gleam, fearsome to behold. I gave thanks to every G.o.d I could name that she was on our side.

"I see that you're in the battle, too, Kli-Kli," the prince chuckled.

The lad was only sixteen years old, but he held a sword with confidence, and the gentlemen guards would have followed their future king onto red-hot coals if necessary. The young Stalkon's breeding was obvious. Like all his kind, he had been given every advantage-some of us had to learn the hard way, but not him. He seemed competent and well liked by his men, though. I'll give him that. He didn't look a lot like his father and his older brother, Stalkon Divested of the Crown. The slim, agile prince was more like his mother, Stalkon the Ninth's second wife.

"Our glorious jester will defeat them all," laughed the baron, whom I already knew from our encounter at the gate.

"We gave them a good hiding!" said Hallas, coming up to us with his mattock bloodied right up to the handle.

Other guards from the unit that we had helped to hold out started joining us.

"My prince!" Lieutenant Izmi's shirt was soaked in blood, but he was standing firmly on his feet, ignoring the slight wound on his forearm. "I am happy that you came to our a.s.sistance!"

"It wasn't him," I said, determined not to be cheated of my share of glory and grat.i.tude. "If the jester hadn't come up with a brilliant plan, I wouldn't have fired my magical bolts and the glorious gentlemen Deler and Hallas wouldn't have put their weapons to work, and you, lieutenant, would be in the next world by now."

The bugles started sounding again, but this time there was a note of victory in their voices, and immediately a messenger came running up to the prince and started gabbling rapidly: "The north and west wings of the palace have been completely cleared. There are still isolated skirmishes in the east wing, but Milord Alistan and the guard will deal with the curs themselves. On the third floor of the south wing the battle is in full swing. The enemy is well entrenched in the small ballroom and we can't smoke him out."

"What about my father?" the prince asked curtly.

"The king is safe. He is on his way with three units to join Milord Markauz. He asks you to enter the south wing from the Pearl Stairway, and Alistan will proceed from the Hall of Flowers."

"Let's go and crush these woodlice!" the prince growled.

The guardsmen went dashing after their future king. The gnome and the dwarf went with them, running in the front row and almost overtaking young Stalkon himself. Those two races really would give anything for a good battle.

"Let's go, Harold," said Kli-Kli, tugging on the edge of my unb.u.t.toned shirt. "Your crossbow will be needed again."

"I'm a thief, not a soldier," I protested. "And anyway, there are plenty of men here with crossbows."

I really had counted at least eight men among the guards carrying heavy army crossbows, which fire bolts that can go right through a soldier in heavy armor. But I tagged along with everyone else anyway, not really knowing what made me do something so insane.

The signs of battle were everywhere. Weapons lying around, broken urns, tapestries torn off the walls, blood, and bodies. There were guardsmen and impostors lying on the floor. Before the morning came someone would lose his head. It was more than just fifty or a hundred warriors who had managed to get into the palace. The count ran to hundreds, and there was no way that many could have slipped in here without help. So there were traitors among the servants of the court and also, I feared, in the ranks of the guards. The king's sandmen had a big job ahead of them trying to uncover the villains.

As our unit moved through the corridors, stairways, and halls of the palace, more guardsmen joined us. Sometimes just one man, sometimes twenty at a time. The battle was already over; the critical point that decided whose side Sagra, the G.o.ddess of war, would take today, had been pa.s.sed. We had held out.

The enemy had thought that the men in gray and blue could be taken by surprise, and he had paid for that. Whatever goal the supporters of the Nameless One had set themselves, this time they had failed completely, and I didn't think there was going to be a next time. At least, not another daring attack like this one. Milord Rat would do absolutely everything possible to prevent even a mouse from slipping in, let alone several hundred killers.

"Izmi, take four platoons and enter the south wing from the garden," the prince commanded. "We'll spring this mousetrap shut!"

"Marquis Vartek, are your men ready?" Stalkon asked the white-haired guardsman.

"Yes!" Yet another of my acquaintances from the gate was in a determined mood.

"Along the north corridor, pin them to the wall. Everybody else follow me!"

"Harold, we're with the marquis!" said Kli-Kli. He had completely taken command of my actions now.

The rest of the guards were following the prince into another corridor.

"An extra crossbow won't come amiss," Vartek said with a nod, accepting our company into his little unit.

We turned into a wide, dark corridor where there were no torches or lanterns burning. They had either been put out or quite simply never been lit. The only light was about a hundred paces ahead of us, so we almost had to feel our way along. Fortunately, no one attacked us, only Deler started groaning and hissing when someone stood on his foot in the darkness. In this part of the palace four corridors came together all leading into an immense hall with mirror walls. Of course, it wasn't as gigantic as the throne room, but it was quite big enough for the remaining supporters of the Nameless One to a.s.semble in. They were crowded together in the center, waiting with their weapons drawn. About forty men in a circle. There was something large and dark behind them, covered with a black cloth. I couldn't really see what it was-the defenders' backs screened the unknown object very securely.

We had cut off all four corridors: the prince and his guards were approaching from one side, Izmi's unit from a second, Alistan Markauz, in his beloved armor, was creeping up with his spearmen from a third, closing the ring. And we were on the fourth side, with five guards and the Wild Hearts. Now there was simply nowhere for the intruders to go.