Black Crown FINAL Kobo Page 19

  “We should take a break. Have a little water and some fruit,” I say.

  Mushtan nods his approval.

  There are many sighs as our group slumps to the floor, and shares out water skins and small bundles of fruit. I chew on a date as I take in our surroundings, trying to get as many clues as I can from the space. It’s almost like an entry room in a castle or mansion. A little bit like Mushtan’s large hallway back in Jakani. There are white marble pillars placed intermittently around the room, and the walls are carved with the same art as the first tunnel. These depict much violence, but they also show many people performing day to day tasks, such as herding cattle and making wine. Then there are the more interesting drawings, those which show ancient powers. I see fire bursting from hands, waves of water controlled by Aelfens with serious faces, and many huddling for cover from a tornado. Some of the pictures show tall Aelfens overseeing shorter people in chains.

  “Mushtan, who are they?” I ask.

  He squints at the picture. “I think they are slaves,” he says. “Human slaves.”

  “There were humans back then?” Cas asks, moving closer to the drawing.

  “Oh, yes,” Mushtan says. “Aelfens and humans co-existed for a number of years before the humans rose up and defeated the Aelfens.”

  “So they were slaves?” I mull over the implications. “And all these years I thought it was us who were bloodthirsty and power hungry. But in actual fact we were treated as slaves. But why didn’t the Sihrans kill all the humans with the Ember Stone? They could have stopped the war and kept magic in the realm.”

  “But how powerful would they have been then?” Sasha points out. “Only slightly more powerful than any other Aelfen. Whereas, if they knew they were immortal and could come back whenever they wanted, all they have to do is wait until humans have taken over. Wait until we’re at our weakest, and then come back to rule us like Gods.”

  My head hurts from all these immortals, and Gods, and Ancients. Why does it have to be so complicated? Why does it always have to be someone fighting someone else?

  Our thoughts are interrupted by the scuffing of movement against stone. Cas whips around to face the entrance to the stairs. “What was that?”

  Mushtan climbs to his feet. “It could be rats.” But his hand hovers over the hilt of his scimitar.

  There’s the sing of metal as Cas unsheathes his sword. I have a fireball in my hand, but Mushtan signals for me to extinguish it.

  “It’s too dangerous for you to use your powers here,” he says. “We have no idea how safe the structure is.”

  I consider the dubious ceiling above. Getting buried under the sand doesn’t appeal to me, so I put out my flame and reach for my dagger instead. On my right hand is my sharp hook—ridiculous looking but practical and deadly. The silence in the tunnel thickens and thickens, until I feel it might smother me. We’re waiting, but we don’t know what it is we wait for. My hand is clammy against the hilt of my dagger. Cas adjusts his weight from one leg to the other.

  And then a rat trots around the corner. Mushtan lets out a hearty laugh, followed by the chuckles of the rest of the group. Mushtan leans back and starts to return his scimitar to his belt when by an arrow whooshes through the air, scraping the side of his cheek. A moment of silence hangs in the air as Mushtan’s jaw slackens in shock. We all stare at the arrow as it hits the ground, and then I turn to Cas to see his back straighten, and a flush of red find his face.

  We’re under attack.

  My senses are now tuned, and when I hear the sound of an arrow being nocked, I rush back and away from the entrance to our small space. Mushtan gestures for his men to do the same, and Sasha gets the Borgans away. The arrow narrowly misses one of our men, but still there is silence coming from the stairs around the corner.

  I move closer to Cas and whisper, “We didn’t hear a thing until that rat. There can’t be many of them.”

  Cas frowns and nods, acknowledging my words. I know what he’s thinking; it’s the same as when I first saw Allerton. His father’s men are on the other side of that wall, perhaps even his father himself. He may have given up his quest of revenge to come with me to the Anadi Sands, but how will he react if he comes face to face with the man who killed his mother? I swallow my fear. The last thing I want is for Cas to become reckless in the middle of a battle. We need cool heads to win a fight. I need him to be safe.

  Mushtan talks quietly to his men in Jakani, and then moves closer to me so he can whisper. “They are waiting for us to go to them. We cannot do that. They may have set a trap.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to fight them where the space is narrow and they cannot get away?” Cas says.

  “They can retreat more easily,” Mushtan replies. “And we do not know what they have back there. No, we wait. They cannot shoot any more arrows at us from here. They will have to reveal themselves.”

  Cas nods reluctantly. A bead of sweat runs down his temple, and his jaw is clenched tight. I know full well the kind of patience it takes not to rush straight at the person responsible for killing someone you love.

  My attention is wrenched back to the entrance. A shadow flits across, quick as a flash, and then three men come running into the room, their swords held high, screaming a terrifying war cry. The sight of them, their imposing stature, the red ring of their eyes, and the fierce expression on their faces loosens my stomach. For a brief moment I’m rooted to the floor of the tunnel, and the blood drains from my face. I only come to life when our soldiers lurch forward and begin to fight. The swords clash. Metal screeches against metal. Cas runs forward to help them, and another three men come around the corner. Mushtan’s face is grim, his mouth set. A hard feeling in my gut tells me that this is only the beginning.

  Chapter Twenty-Four – The Sudden Battle

  I try to reach Cas, but Mushtan pushes me back. “No. You stay here, Hada-Ya. Do not fight.” His eyes are dark and intense. I can do nothing but nod in agreement, and swallow away the dryness in my throat.

  Cas is soon in the middle of the battle, slashing his sword towards the throat of a soldier. I get a better view of our attackers. They are dressed in light armour: their helmets have no face guard and appear to be leather, as are their boots and bracers. Their colours are a deep burgundy, and they wear the king’s crest on their breasts: a roaring bear wearing a crown of thorns. I shiver at the sight of it. Cas must know these men, and now he is dodging their blows.

  The three men are easily overpowered by our group. One is unconscious, and the others flee the area, moving back around the corner. I meet Cas’s gaze and we both frown. His face is flushed pink from the fight, and he has a red mark over one eye from a punch, but apart from that he’s unharmed. But still we frown because something is amiss. Why send only a few men? They must know that our group is significantly larger. These are the king’s men who must know by now that we have soldiers from the sultan, good fighters from the Borgans, and a trained prince. Something doesn’t add up. We both know it, and from the sight of Mushtan’s furrowed brow, he suspects something, too.

  When the silence breaks, my stomach almost falls to my knees. Since I first began my journey through the Waerg Woods, I have been faced with the kind of monsters that haunt your nightmares. One of those monsters was created by my good friend Beardsley, and he was more afraid of it than anything else. The formidable brass spider almost fills the room as it scuttles around the corner and into our dimly lit space. It’s one thing to face an enormous automaton outside in the expanse of the desert, it is quite another to come face to face with it in a small space. Every part of my body longs to run from this creature, yet there is nowhere to go. All exits are blocked by its ginormous body.

  Cas dashes back as the spider lifts its deadly leg and crashes down, injuring the unconscious soldier. With another flick of its razor sharp legs, one of Mushtan’s men is knocked to the floor. He rolls out of the way as the spider’s leg comes crashing down.
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  “The eyes! We need to hit it in the eyes,” I cry out. “Sasha, your amulet.” I turn to my red haired friend.

  “No,” Mushtan warns. “No magic down here. It’s too dangerous.”

  I feel so helpless. Cas runs at the spider, landing a blow under its belly, but soon becomes trapped in the cage of its legs. Most of Mushtan’s men dance away from it instead of attacking. The spider circles around the tight space, knocking our fighters to the ground with easy blows.

  “Cas, drive the sword up,” I shout.

  My new husband turns towards me, and his bright silver eyes flash. He lifts his sword, and finds a weak spot where two metal plates meet underneath the spider. He forces his sword up through its body. The spider responds, scurrying forward, dragging Cas along the ground. As I call out his name in terror, Mushtan hurries forward and blocks its path, meeting a spider leg with his scimitar. It gives Cas the time he needs to force his sword further into the spider’s body, slowing it down at last. Mushtan smirks at the metal creature before driving his scimitar into its eye.

  “Cas, get out!” I warn.

  Cas attempts to yank his sword out from the body of the spider, but it’s stuck. I watch in horror as the huge creature begins to fall on top of him. As the spider folds in on itself, Cas abandons his sword and throws himself across the floor, narrowly missing the spider as it crashes to the ground. Treowe is next to him, pulling him back on his feet as I rush towards them, throwing my arms around him.

  “I’m not hurt,” Cas murmurs into my hair, but I can feel the beat of his heart. I know his fear.

  There’s a cough behind me, and I realise where we are and that there are people watching us. Heat flushes in my cheeks as I break away and clear my throat.

  “The danger is not over,” Mushtan whispers. “Listen.”

  I stop, quiet my breathing, and listen. When I close my eyes, my mind clears, and my senses sharpen. Beneath us there is a surge of waking power, so strong that my body longs to run away from it. But I force myself to listen more closely. I can hear the sand above us, the slight movements, the rustle of it settling, and then I hear everyone in the room, their breaths, their heartbeat. This is new. This is exciting. My powers are growing again, but I must control myself. Concentrate.

  There are more men. I open my eyes and turn to Mushtan. “At least a dozen,” I whisper. “All waiting for us.” I pause and add. “Did you know I could do that?”

  “Do what?” he asks.

  I shake my head thoughtfully. “Nothing, it’s not important.”

  “They thought the spider would take care of us,” Mushtan continues. “And now they have no choice but to throw all their remaining force at us. They will attack, but first they will wait to see if we will grow impatient and attack them. We will not grow impatient. They are in the cold, dark, tunnel of this temple. We have this room, some light, and some comfort.”

  “So we just wait?” Cas says. His clipped tone reveals his frustration. He is eager to face the man who killed his mother.

  Mushtan meets Cas’s gaze and holds it. “Yes.”

  I place my hand on Cas’s arm to cool the temper bubbling beneath the surface.

  “What if we move forward?” I say. “What if we continue on into the temple?”

  “They will follow us silently and slit our throats,” Cas says.

  “He’s right,” Mushtan says. “They will pick us off one by one. Starting with the weakest. They will keep you alive, Hada-Ya. Everyone else will be dead.”

  “As soon as they take me out of here, I will light them on fire and watch them burn,” I say. “But in this small space, I can’t do anything. I would hurt everyone.”

  “We can beat them in combat,” Cas says confidently. His voice is strong, but his eyes betray his fear.

  Mushtan moves quietly around the group to deliver instructions, while Cas retrieves his sword from the fallen automaton. We arrange into three tiers. On the first tier are the strongest fighters in the group: Mushtan’s men and the Borgans. Next, are Mushtan, Cas, Treowe, and some of the younger fighters. At the back are all the women: me, Ellen, Sasha, and Aliyah, which seems ridiculous to me, but I decide not to argue with Mushtan. At least here I can watch Cas and try not to let him get into trouble. Between us and the place we know the king’s men are hiding, lies the body of the spider. I try not to stare at its jewelled eyes and broken legs. Instead I spin the dagger in my hand and wait. I glance across at Aliyah, who has drawn a scimitar. Her jaw is tight, but her eyes are determined. She longed for adventure, but I wonder whether she is truly prepared.

  “This is going to be brutal,” Sasha says. She holds a long, thin sword. We all have weapons, even Ellen.

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” she replies. “People are going to die.”

  My heart twists at the thought of anyone being hurt, but before I can respond, there’s a shout, and then a stream of arrows fly through the room, followed by the king’s soldiers in their red armour. I drop to the floor on my left and roll away from one of the arrows. Two of Mushtan’s men are injured immediately. But there is nothing I can do for them, because in mere moments, the fighters are upon us, and there is the clash of swords against swords.

  This is my first taste of battle. I’ve seen fights before—I’ve been involved in many—but I have never seen men fight each other with the sole intention to kill. I get to my feet, hold out my dagger, and pull myself together. I won’t be any help to anyone if I remain open mouthed and in shock at the sight in front of me.

  Cas wastes no time. He is through the first tier of men and fighting. But I can’t help but notice how he avoids delivering a fatal blow. He meets the slashes of his opponent’s sword, but he avoids their throat and chest, and avoids any blow that might be too deep. The Borgans, however, are fearsome fighters. They draw blood from their enemies as easily as cutting through butter. The extra training, and Treowe’s weapons, have paid off. I find myself appalled and yet impressed while watching them.

  But then my attention is pulled to a house of a man with thicker, more ornate armour, who stays back away from the main fighting. He wields the largest sword I have ever seen. It takes him two hands to control it, and he swings the mighty thing from his shoulders. He is the only fighter to wear a helmet. I find that I cannot move my eyes to any other target. Who is this man?

  With my heart beating fast, and a growing sense of unease building in my gut, I turn to find Cas in the chaos. I find his sandy hair, and see which direction he is heading. Cas cuts down almost everyone between him and the tall man. He can barely keep his eyes from the enormous two-handed sword wielded by this mystery man. And that’s when I realise what is happening.

  “Oh no,” I whisper to myself, moving away from the other women and into the fray. From behind, I am barely aware of Sasha calling my name. I know now what I must do. I know who that is. Cas knows the sword. He knows it is his father.

  There’s a whoosh, and I duck to my knees in time to see one of the king’s soldiers on my right. His sword comes crashing down. I meet it with my dagger. He’s far stronger than I am, so my dagger can only hold for a few moments, but I am quicker and I dodge out of his path, jabbing him on his left with my hook. The soldier falls forward in pain, but he is not hurt enough to stop fighting. He turns back to me and swings his sword, but I realise now that he is not attempting a fatal blow, instead he attempts to knock me out with the hilt of his sword. In that instant I am so distracted that I am too slow to move, but just before his blow is about to reach me, Treowe cuts the man down. The soldier slumps to the ground, blood seeping from an open wound.

  I scuttle back away from Treowe, not even thanking him for saving me, instead nauseated from the stench of blood and sweat rising from the fighting men. I pass Mushtan as he spins and ducks like a man half his age. He fights with two scimitars, slicing open his opponents in swift, arcing movements. My stomach lurches at the sight of blood. How could I ever have wan
ted revenge for my father? If I had known the realities of death, I would never have craved the kill. I would never have wanted this.

  No, I must ignore these thoughts. I have to find Cas. If I am right, and he has gone to fight his father, it could result in him making a rash error fuelled by his grief. I need to help him. I allow myself one last glance back at the rest of my people; Aliyah swings her scimitar with a determined expression on her face; Sasha parries a blow with her sword; Treowe fights two soldiers at once; Ellen jabs her dagger at one of the smaller soldiers. I turn away and the room seems to go quiet. My mind begins to focus, and everything drifts away. Amidst the roar, and clash, and blur of the fighting, there is one image standing out: Cas on his knees, unarmed, and the king’s sword about to slice him in two.

  Chapter Twenty-Five – The Difficult Kill

  A soldier runs towards me, blocking my path. But I throw myself at him, using all my weight to knock him to the ground. Then I sprint towards Cas. The king sees me approach, and that small distraction gives me enough time to slash at him with my dagger. But the king leaps back in time, and swings his almighty sword towards me. I dodge the blow, moving around him using the footwork Cas taught me. When I take another swing at the king, I manage to slice into his armour, drawing blood on his upper arm. Out of the corner of my eye, Cas gets to his sword and is back on his feet.

  The king backs away, seeing that he’s outnumbered. He lowers his sword, and for a moment I think he is about to surrender. But then his hand goes to his face, and he pulls the helmet from his head.

  “What?” Cas blurts out.

  There’s a shock of untidy dark hair, and then a man stands before us, no, a boy, with pale eyes and a smirk on his lips.

  “What’s the matter, brother, surprised to see me?” Lyndon says to Cas.

  Despite Lyndon being younger than Cas by a year, he is as tall and as built as a fully grown man. He is also the spit of his father, down to the way he carries himself, and his thin lips.