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Ludgera
“You’re weak.” Agnark’s father, Lord Valdkin Yamat stares down at us from his high horse. He didn’t even come into the mansion to get us himself, he had some of his soldiers come inside as Kit, Agnark, and I were planning our evacuation, just in case one of the mobs came here. There was no alarm, no time to resist. Agnark tried to fight them off and protect me even though his body is still in terrible shape from the rune he cast. But of course it was useless. Kit tried, I tried, but the two of us, even though Kit turned out to be very good with a rapier, were no match for five heavily armed and armored men.
They dumped us out here, in front of Agnark’s father, who’s now berating him.
“You should have just had your fun with that girl and left her. But no, you had to go and get attached! She was your weak point, so I used her, trying to get you to realize that she was a liability. But you ignored my lessons!” He threw his hands up in the air. His dappled grey horse snorts, emphasizing his point.
“Then,” He continues coldly. “You betray me, ignore all the generosity I’ve shown you, and go and publish this nonsense–” He holds up one of our flyers, “Forcing my hand early! The men weren’t ready! The Priests could only send ten sorcerers!” Agnark is silent, staring at his father. Lord Yamat stares back at his son coldly, evaluating him. “Maddrelk?” He calls to one of his retainers.
“Yes, My Lord?” The retainer asks. He’s the one carrying the house crest, the Unending Eyes.
“Remind me what happens to hounds that can’t understand the most basic lessons.”
The retainer gulps, obviously understanding the implications. From somewhere off in the distance I hear Kit’s shouting increase. I glance over my shoulder. She’s fighting harder, kicking at one of the guards. Then I realize that it’s not just that, she’s trying to direct my attention somewhere.
I follow her gaze and see two peasants, quickly approaching, worried looks on their familiar faces. One of them is too tall. Wait, it’s the elf Prince! And– is that Blix? They were coming to warn us! But they’re too late. What can they do when we’re already surrounded by over fifty of Lord Yamat’s men? Not to mention the sorcerers I’ve spotted amongst them.
“The hound gets put down, Sir.” Maddrelk replies to Lord Yamat’s question. “We write it off as a lost cause, and put it down.”
“Would you suggest I put down this disobedient mut?”
Maddrelk looks absolutely frantic, like he doesn’t know the right answer. “Ummm… I wouldn’t be able to say, Sir. He is Your son after all. I wouldn’t want to overstep my boundaries persay–”
“Oh shut up.”
“Shutting up.” The man says gratefully.
“Do you remember,” Lord Yamat says, now addressing Agnark again “The phrase ‘When Poison fills the Skies, the Reign of Worlds will fall to the Eyes?’”
Agnark blinks, startled and confused. “You told me that prophecy was madness, that the monk who spoke it was high on Murdenblum!” He exclaims. I glance at him. My first instinct is to be upset, another thing he didn’t tell me about! But I guess I can see why he didn’t tell me, if he thought it was insanity. Still–
“Things change,” Lord Yamat interrupts my thoughts, smiling severely. “Once one of the priests on our team made a breakthrough on a neutralizing agent for the poisonous gas, I realized that we’d been wrong all along. The prophecy was real. There could be a life after the Scourger has done it’s work, and I will rule over it. Because we’re of the same blood, I will give you one last chance. Abandon your sweetheart and join me. You can inherit the empire I form, and your sons can take it after you. If you refuse me, I’ll simply have to create a new heir. It won’t be too difficult, but it will be annoying.”
The horse steps in place, as if it too is nervous of Agnark’s response. He stares at me, face hardening, and turns to look at his father.
“I made my decision when I spilled my blood to cast that spell.” He says coldly. “I stand with my paramour, my prince, and my kingdom’s neighbors. I do not stand with you, father.”
I smile at Agnark, delighted by his open rebellion. His father doesn’t share my opinion. “Idiot.” He says coolly. “You shall die alongside everyone you stand with.”
Turning his horse away from us, he makes an abrupt slicing motion to the guards, and I realize what’s about to happen. “Wait!” I shout, desperate to delay our deaths even by a second. But what can I do? What can I offer that will make him hesitate? It won’t even help in the long run, a few more seconds won’t matter, there’s no way Blix and Prince Faladel can reach us in that time.
As my thoughts race, Lord Yamat turns towards us, unaware of the chaos in my head. He raises an eyebrow at me, expectantly. “You have something of importance to admit to before you die?” He asks, his upper crust accent impeccable.
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“Ahh…” I hesitate, before brilliance strikes. “Wouldn’t you like to know how to get a double agent within Yaluda’s inner circle?”
Agnark shoots me an alarmed stare. I hesitate, waiting for Lord Yamat to take the bait. He does, trotting his grey steed in a neat circle so he’s facing us again. Everyone is watching us. I gulp. All my senses are screaming that this is dangerous, but I’ve never shirked danger before and I won’t start now.
“What exactly do you mean by that?” Each consonant is pronounced carefully, poised to strike.
“Exactly what it sounds like.” I say, feigning confidence as I can feel a sword pointed at my throat from behind me. Don’t worry. I imagine reassuring Agnark. I won’t betray Kit and Blix. Unfortunately, he doesn’t receive my feeble attempt at telepathy, and is still staring at me, completely shocked. The whole area has gone silent. I wince internally. I hope Kit didn’t overhear that and get all offended thinking I’m going to betray her. Maybe I should send her a mental apology as well. Once Lord Yamat stops freezing me in place with his ice blue eyes.
“How.” He says, and it’s not a question, it’s an order. Internally, I smile. I’ve got him, I’ve secured our lives for a couple more seconds. Now I just need a way to extend those seconds without ratting out my friends.
Externally, I tremble. I look scared. I look desperate. My etiquette teacher that finally gave up on me when I was ten would have tears in her eyes at how much I’ve taken in her ‘hiding your emotions lessons’.
Finally I stammer out “I– I want some reassurance. Promise me on your house name that you’ll let us go after I tell you. That you’ll let us live out our lives in peace without any interference.”
I’ve always been good at making deals. And at being infuriating to the grownups around me. Only one of those skills seems to have kicked in right now though.
Lord Yamat dismounts and stalks towards me. “Just like I would expect of a destitute noble house that has fallen so low as to embrace trade.” He spits the word, disgust apparent in everything from his voice to the way he draws his sword and puts it to my throat. “There is no deal here, girl. You and the mut die now. Or you tell me and then you die.” I’d love to give him a good scolding for referring to Agnark– His own son! –as a mut, but I resist the urge, gulping instead as I try to think of a way out.
A few more seconds. My heart thuds away. Just a few more seconds. I feel the cold of his all too sharp blade scratch at my neck, and then jerk away as something steals his attention.
“What the–” He says, still in the accent that comes from generations of entitlement.
It’s the servants. Kit has riled them all up, somehow gotten their hands on makeshift weapons– and some real weapons! Rakes, a shovel, Kitchen knives, a rolling pin, more than a couple of daggers, her own rapier– how did that not get confiscated by a guard? –along with a motley assortment of items from around the house and even a splintered whalebone corset. I know Kit was the one who showed me the usage of hoop skirts for concealment of random items, but how would one ever fit a shovel up there?
The servants, armed with whatever they have, attack the guards violently. They aren’t trained, aren’t aiming for weak points in the armor or any of the vital points, but they are enthusiastic! They strike, and then scamper back, avoiding the soldiers’ confused and uncoordinated response. The men had been able to handle Kit, she was just one girl with a rapier after all, but apparently they didn’t know how to respond to this motley cast of characters. Lethal force? Or did their master want the servants alive? They’d probably only been ordered to keep them contained.
That changes as Lord Yamat, realizing what the chaos is about, shouts “Get rid of them you idiots, they were never going to survive this anyway!”
The servants draw back, apparently fearful of lethal retaliation. Well, except for the cook, he keeps beating at soldiers’ heads with his gigantic rolling pin. Kit has to physically grab him and pull him back into line with the others. And then I realize it.
She’s commanding them. This isn’t a cowed group, it’s a tactical retreat!
As soon as the chanting begins, I realize why. The sorcerers! Lord Yamat said he had support from the church, that means he has sorcerers on his side. I watch in awe as Kit’s clever plan takes effect. Blood rises into the sky, collected for spells. But it isn’t just the sorcerer’s blood. The spell sings to the open wounds of Lord Yamat’s men as well. Open wounds caused by desperate attacks by the servants. Lord Yamat’s own men are consumed by his spells, collapsing in front of the servants and leaving room for them to charge at the now heavily diminished forces of our adversaries.
I hear a groan from next to me.
Agnark! His wound is open! We patched it up, but it isn’t enough! The spell, it could kill him if it takes enough blood! He’s already weakened! I lunge over to his side, seeing the trickle through the wraps on his hand. I place my palm over his, trying to apply pressure, to keep the blood in. But I can feel it pushing back at me. Slipping slowly through the lines on my palm. It won’t be enough. Desperately I jerk my head up and twist it around. Maybe, if I can stop whatever sorcerers are nearby–
My eyes settle on Lord Yamat. He looks torn. He obviously wants to kill me, to kill us, to get revenge for this chaos that it must look like we had some hand in. But his men are more important. Or maybe I’m being too kind, and it’s actually the information I promised that is just too tempting. Somewhere in the background I notice that Blix and Prince Faladel have joined the fighting, attacking from the rear.
Lord Yamat gets back on his horse, and shouts in a somehow enhanced voice “Stop the Spellcasting!”
It booms, vibrates over the field, and the effect is instant. The spells drop, but the damage, both on the battlefield and to Agnark is already done. He’s passed out again. Still alive, but for who knows how long?
Lord Yamat pays no attention to us, rounding up his men and renewing his attack on the tiny servant army. They start losing ground, retreating towards the manor, still defiant, but much more desperate. Kit shouts something over the noise to her brother, but I can’t hear it. The fighting has moved on, and it’s clear the tides have turned against us. Without the element of surprise, we’re nothing.