Chapter 40 – Talon and Spear
As they journeyed to the summer palace, far beyond the city, the twins noticed an ironic pattern. While they had struggled to push their way through the crowd on their way inwards, now that Sir Kyr had discarded his disguise, making their way forward proved far easier. Even with as crowded as the streets were, as soon as anyone noticed Sir Kyr, they would scream in surprise, then panic would subsequently begin to spread. Before the twins even had time to react to try and calm them, the crowds would vanish like water turned to vapor, clearing a path for them. It saved them precious time which the twins knew would be vital if they were to reach the Empress. Besides, Zull thought with a touch of humor. It’s not like we care anymore about hiding from the Master. He knows about us, just as we know about him. All the pieces are on the board, now it will simply come down to our skill.
Even with the shrieking and general raucous nature of the crowd, both were drowned out by the ear-splitting detonations of the various fireworks overhead, celebrating the Jubilee in a gorgeous, if deafening display of color and sound. With all this noise, one could march an army into the city without being noticed, Zull thought. He wondered if that was exactly what the Master had planned, or indeed, if he had already done so.
Zaphyr, clutching her kitten to her chest, ran alongside Zull. Both struggled to keep up with Sir Kyr who, even feeling weak as he did, could run faster and longer than any human could. “You shouldn’t have brought the kitten, Zaphyr,” Zull said through gritted teeth. “He’s just going to draw your attention away from what matters; saving the Empress.”
“I’m not leaving my cat,” Zaphyr insisted. “We’ve left behind or lost too many people already.”
Zull winced at that, the memories of Vard and Vyle still far, far too fresh in his memory. He wondered distractedly if Vyle was still alive and, if so, what was happening to him at this moment. If the Master hurts or kills him, then he will pay, Zull promised. Besides all the others they had already lost to Prince Blyth and his schemes, the promise felt insignificant, a haunting reminder of just how many still waited to be avenged.
“Up ahead,” Sir Kyr said, pointing with a claw as he spoke. “There’s a cobblestone road leading out of the city. It’ll take us right to the Summer Palace.”
“How can you be certain?” Zaphyr asked between gasps as she struggled to keep pace.
“Vyle told me as much,” Sir Kyr said simply. With a renewed burst of speed, he charged ahead, the crowd melting away before him as fearful whispers about the “abomination” swirled around them. A low, frightened murmur ran through those watching as they wondered what he wanted. Since all eyes were on Sir Kyr, few noticed the twins, and even those who did were too surprised to question why they followed the knight’s trail. As they reached the edge of the city and the festivities, the crowd closed back behind them, the panic subduing somewhat once the gathered onlookers realized that Sir Kyr wanted to harm them, he would have already done so. Most of them soon forgot about the twins and their protector altogether as they returned to their revelries, peacefully content and unaware of the Master’s conspiracy unfolding around them even as they cheered for their hostage Empress.
Once safely away from the city, Sir Kyr drew up to a stop, the twins stumbling to a half beside him. Now away from the city and its many torchlights, the only illumination offered was the pale-half moon and the stars. It made Sir Kyr look like a monstrous shadow, without form or substance.
“Why are we stopping?” Zaphyr asked.
“You two need to catch your breath and conserve your energy,” Sir Kyr said. “I could run all the way to the palace, but if I did so, I would leave you behind, which we cannot risk with the Master’s agents now freely roaming about.”
“How far is it to the palace?” Zull asked.
“By foot, from here? Perhaps an hour,” Sir Kyr said.
Zull considered this. “We don’t have much time to spare.”
“I know,” Sir Kyr responded. “However, it is better than becoming separated. Our only hope is our combined talents.”
“Then we take it slower, if we need to,” Zaphyr said. “You need to save your strength as well, Sir Kyr, until we can heal you.”
“Of course,” Sir Kyr said quietly. Zull squinted, but in the dark, it was impossible for him to read the knight’s expression. “Now then, let us keep moving.”
At a slower, more measured pace, they hiked through the countryside, heading towards the palace. With nothing to hear but the distant celebrations in the city and each other’s faint breathing, and nothing to see but the swimming shadows which swirled around them, cast by the half-moon above, the journey seemed oddly timeless. This sensation was only enhanced by the dread they both felt of what was surely to come, which made things seem to drag on interminably.
It at last ended when Sir Kyr said quietly, “halt.”
“Do you see something?” Zaphyr said, straining her eyes in the dark to no avail.
“Look ahead,” was his only response.
The twins both did so, and though they could faintly make out in the distance the silhouette of an enormous building lit by torchlight from within. “The palace,” Zull murmured softly to himself.
“Aye.” Sir Kyr adjusted his stance, dropping a hand to the hilt of one of his swords from habit. “We will need to be careful in our approach; we have no idea how well guarded the palace may be.”
The three of them crept along, growing steadily closer to the fortress. Once they got close enough, they saw that the palace was very similar to its winter cousin in the city, most likely being constructed by the same architect. It was tall, ornate, and clearly meant as a visual display of the Empress’ power. Even the twins could tell it had no utility as a true fortress.
A painstakingly maintained garden completely encircled the palace. Despite the dark, they could see the rows of flowers of all colors, growing in carefully sculped bushes and shrubs. Between the garden and the palace itself stood a miniature village, consisting of a ring of buildings acting as servant’s quarters, kitchens, stables, and anything else needed to support daily life within the palace proper. The trio saw no lights within the servants’ village, which appeared from a distance to be abandoned. They snuck their way through, pleasantly surprised at the lack of security they found. Even the garden itself was deserted. Only once they reached the palace itself did they see guards, patrolling in pairs of two or three, lazily keeping an eye on the surrounding countryside.
“They’re overconfident,” Zull whispered. “They don’t really expect anyone to challenge them, not all the way out here.”
“It’s the last mistake they will ever make,” Sir Kyr promised. He crept towards two of the closest guards, the twins just behind them. He stepped on a twig fallen from a nearby shrub, the cracking sound it made resounding unnaturally loud in the stillness.
“Do you hear something?” one of the guards asked. The trio froze, their forms blending into the darkness to make them almost impossible to see. Unconsciously, Zull and Zaphyr held their breaths, fearful even the slightest movement might give them away.
“It was just a wild animal,” the other guard said. “There’s nobody out here but the two of us. Come on, let’s get back so we can get some grub.”
The two of them turned to continue their rounds. As soon as they did so, Sir Kyr lunged towards them, grabbing both around the neck with his taloned claws, the momentum of his movement driving them forward to the ground in front of him. Zaphyr and Zull could hear a sickly crunching sound coming from the direction of Sir Kyr, though in the shadows could see nothing. After a moment, Sir Kyr stood back up and walked over to them.
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“They’re disposed of. I would hide what is left of the bodies, but we do not have the time,” Sir Kyr said plainly. Neither Zaphyr nor Zull pressed him for further details. “Let’s sneak in before the next set of guards comes around and stumbles over them.”
They agreed, creeping along the exterior of the palace until they reached a narrow, unadorned door plainly intended to be used by servants so they could enter or leave unobtrusively. Sir Kyr tested the handle and found the door to be unlocked. Pushing it open, they stepped through.
Within, the palace looked much the same as its winter sibling had, though if anything it appeared to be decorated even more extravagantly. The servant’s door led them to a large wine cellar. One wall was stacked with large barrels, each of which had writing on them in a script neither twin recognized. The other wall had several glass wine bottles resting in niches. Zull walked to the wall where the bottles were hung and, taking one down, studied it introspectively for a moment.
“This hardly seems the time for a toast, Zull,” Sir Kyr said.
“I’m aware,” Zull said. He struck the bottle against the wooden wall, shattering it with a loud popping noise as wine spilled across the floor. He looked at the shattered bottle, its rim jagged, which he still held in his hand.
“Making yourself a weapon?” Sir Kyr asked.
“Something akin to that,” Zull said. “Zaphyr, hold out your hand.”
Zaphyr, realizing what Zull intended, did as he commanded. Quickly and cleanly, Zull ran one of the pieces of broken glass in his hand along her palm, making a narrow incision. She winced but said nothing. Finished, Zull proceeded to toss the broken bottle in the room’s corner. Sir Kyr, baffled, said nothing, trusting by now that the twins did not act without a plan, however strange it seemed.
Their momentary delay finished, they passed out of the wine cellar and into the chambers of the greater palace. Though they were unfamiliar with the environment, they were guided by the noise of a large group of people talking loudly and excitedly in the distance, which they headed steadily towards. They hoped that they would find the Empress and the rest of her court there. Their hopes were confirmed when they saw another guard holding a short sword, standing before a large set of closed doors. Seeing them approach, his eyes widened, and he braced his back against the door, blade pointed in their direction.
“Come one step closer, and I’ll cut apart the lot of you,” he threatened.
Zaphyr raised her cut palm, which now had a tiny trickle of blood on it. With a thought, the blood formed into a thin needle which hovered in the air before her. With a thought, it slammed through the guard’s forehead. He jerked back, then crumpled to the floor, dead before he even hit the ground.
“Good work, Zaphyr,” Sir Kyr said appreciatively. “Clever, using Choler’s technique to such effect.”
Zaphyr, her face expressionless, did not respond.
They approached the door the guard had been protecting. Sir Kyr shoved the door open, revealing a long hallway whose walls and ceiling were both covered in mirrors, creating a bewildering reflective effect as countless copies of oneself stared back from every direction. Under ordinary conditions, it would have been a pleasantly distracting room to relax in and enjoy a pleasant conversation. In their present situation, it barely registered in either Zull or Zaphyr’s consciousness, especially when they had more pressing matters to deal with: a pair of disheveled looking men, clearly mercenaries of some type, standing at the opposite end of the room. One carried a club, the other a crossbow.
“Halt? What is your business here?” the one with the crossbow asked as he lifted the weapon, which was loaded. He gestured threateningly in their direction, holding the weapon casually, clearly well-practiced with its use.
“We’re here to see the Empress,” Sir Kyr said, telling the truth.
The man sneered. “No one can see the Empress, except on Captain Erevex’s orders.”
Sir Kyr nodded. “So, ‘Captain Erevex,’ is leading the rebels. Good to know. I recommend the two of you stand aside, or you shall soon meet a swift and unpleasant end.”
The men looked to each other, then laughed once.
“Very well,” Sir Kyr said.
Zull frowned, twisted his hands at his side. The man holding the crossbow’s mouth gaped in sudden confusion as he dropped the weapon at his feet.
“Why’d you do that?” his companion asked angrily.
“I-I don’t know,” he stuttered. “All the sudden, my hands felt numb, and I couldn’t carry it.”
“Cutting circulation to the hands is a neat trick, isn’t it?” Zull asked.
The men’s eyes widened in realization. “Hemomancers,” the one carrying the club hissed. “The twins.”
“So, you know who we are,” Zaphyr said. “Unfortunately, that information won’t help you now.” She summoned more bolts of blood, and even as the men charged towards her, she struck both killing them before they had made it even halfway across the chamber.
“Impressive,” Sir Kyr said.
Zaphyr smiled wanly. Her face was noticeably pale compared to before. Though she had suggested the idea to him, some days before, Zull had his misgivings. She can’t keep doing this; it’s taking too much of her blood, he worried. However, for the moment he said nothing; he did not want to ruin his sister’s momentary triumph.
Stepping over the two bodies, they made their way to the far side of the chamber, whose door was slightly open. They saw an adjacent room, in which stood a small wooden table with a porcelain vase atop it and a bookshelf at the far end. Beyond that, there was a pair of doors, behind which they could hear low murmuring and occasional shouts, telling them they were close to a large group of people. Zaphyr’s cat took this opportunity to jump down from her shoulder and race to the further door, which it sat down in front of and waited expectantly for them. Entering the room, the twins looked around for a moment, then, seeing nothing, moved to the nearest door.
Grabbing the door handle, Sir Kyr cracked the door open, allowing them to peer through. On the other side, they saw one of a pair of interconnected ballrooms. The ballroom they were looking at had clearly been prepared for a feast, with a long table down the middle stacked high with fresh fruits, succulent meats, and towering cakes from across the empire. A group of men dressed in the same livery as the rest of the royal guards sat around the table, chatting with each other loudly as they feasted with gusto. Sir Kyr slid the door back shut, the distaste on his face evident. The trio moved to the further door, which they intuitively guessed would connect to the other half of the ballroom. Zaphyr’s kitten, sitting in front of this door, was by this time mewling piteously.
Peering in, they saw a tightly bunched group of nobles, their expressions ones of terror. In the center of the group stood the Empress, unphased, and General Steroth, still astonished. A ring of guards stood around them, carelessly carrying pikes or short swords. Clearly, they would rather be with their companions in the ballroom feasting than overseeing the prisoners. As Sir Kyr and the twins entered the room, slamming the door open to announce their presence, the guardsmen and mercenaries all looked to their leader for direction.
Standing halfway between the circle of nobles and the door was Captain Erevex, smirking. He held a spear of his own in one hand, before passing it to the other. Adjusting the patch over his right eye, and said, “You must be Sir Kyr.”
“Aye. And you, in turn must be Captain Erevex.”
Captain Erevex smiled, tipping his head slightly. “Always a pleasure to meet the competition. I hear you’re quite the accomplished swordsman.”
Sir Kyr nodded once, briefly. “I am.”
“Humble, too,” Captain Erevex noted. “I assume you are here to save the Empress, then?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m afraid I simply cannot let you do that, so it appears I have no choice but to duel you.”
“Yes, it would appear so,” Sir Kyr said. Zaphyr and Zull took a step forward, but Sir Kyr raised a hand warningly. “This one is mine.”
Captain Erevex laughed. “We’ll see about that.” He hefted his spear, calculating his attack for a brief instant, then charged towards Sir Kyr, weapon held out before him. Sir Kyr, drawing his sword with lightning speed, raced towards his opponent as well. Mid-motion, Captain Erevex ducked, then spun, bringing his spear around to strike at Sir Kyr from below his guarded stance. Sir Kyr, anticipating this move, dropped his hands downwards in a sharp motion, knocking the shaft of the spear aside, before bringing his blade back up and singing towards Captain Erevex’s neck. The motion carried Sir Kyr three paces past Captain Erevex. Both men came to a halt, their backs now facing each other. Captain Erevex raised one hand to his throat, which had been sliced cleanly across by Sir Kyr swing, so quickly that he hadn’t even felt it until after the fact. He coughed, blood spattering across the front of his pale blue uniform. Using one hand to try and staunch the bleeding from the wound, he slowly turned to face Sir Kyr.
“And they said you were dying, pathetically hobbling along on the last of your strength,” Captain Erevex gasped, blood dribbling from his lips with each word.
Sir Kyr gave an apathetic shrug. “I am.”
Captain Erevex grinned again. “I never stood a chance, did I?” Slowly, he sank to his knees, dropping his spear to the floor with a loud clatter. While he tried to say something else, all that came out was a weak gasping and bubbles of hot blood. He swayed, then fell beside his spear, eyes wide.
“Good work, Sir Kyr!” Zull and Zaphyr said triumphantly.
The knight nodded, acknowledging their cheers, then swayed abruptly. Then, just as his opponent had done a moment earlier, he fell to the ground, laying unmoving on the marbled floor of the ballroom.
“Sir Kyr!” Zaphyr said in fear, racing to stand over where he had fallen. The other guardsmen, uncertain what to do with events proceeding so quickly, moved to intercept her, but Zull said sternly, “I wouldn’t approach either of them if I was you. My sister is a hemomancer, and a particularly powerful one. What’s more, she’s very distressed right now, and liable to take it out on the first person idiotic enough to try and poke her with their spear. So, if you cared about your health or safety, I would recommend putting your spears down, and surrendering to the Empress. Then, go tell your friends to do the same.”
The guards hesitated, looking to each other for guidance now that their leader had fallen. Gradually, one by one, they lowered their weapons to the ground and stood to the side, expressions blank with shock. Zull sighed with relief, glad that it had not come to another fight. He walked over to where the Empress was standing, who watched his approach with a calculating, measuring expression. This is what everything had been coming to, he thought. Finally, after all these weeks, he would get to speak with the Empress.