Chapter 42: The Return
Of all the things that Zull had expected to accomplish in his life, riding on horseback alongside the supreme commander of Waed’s military to save the empire that ruled the entire known world had not been particularly high on that list. Indeed, since nearly all their journey had been on foot, and Zull had lived his entire life in the port of Varin, this was the first time that either he or Zaphyr had ever ridden a horse. He found that he wasn’t particularly enjoying the experience.
At first, he had been extremely distrustful of the creature; a tiny, not entirely rational part of his mind feared that it would break into a gallop at any moment, sending him sprawling on the ground with a bruised back, or worse, broken bones as it sprinted away. No such thing happened, and indeed he found that the horse responded perfectly to every miniscule flick of the reins he held. Moreover, it trotted along patiently and obediently behind Zaphyr and General Steroth’s own steeds, showing not a hint of rebellion. Sir Kyr faced the opposite issue: while he had been an experienced and accomplished rider for years, his monstrous and uncanny nature startled the horses, which shied away from him and seemed frightened by his very presence. While one of the horses did eventually submit to letting Sir Kyr mount him, it had done so reluctantly, and Sir Kyr clearly had difficulty controlling the animal throughout their journey.
Once they had received the Empress’ blessing, they had waited only long enough for a quartet of horses to be saddled, then they had set off, riding back the way they came as fast as Zull and Zaphyr’s status as novice riders would let them. With the pale moon overhead amidst a circlet of glittering, shimmering stars accompanied by the steady rhythm of the horses they rode, the journey back to Melkis seemed even more oddly timeless and dreamlike than the one out of the city had. It occurred to Zull then that their ongoing lack of sleep, combined with the incredibly high pressure and tension of their situation, was pushing them all to the absolute limits of their mental and emotional strength, which then made their mission all the more risky. He felt like a piece string, stretched to its maximum tautness: any more tension, and he would snap entirely.
This train of thought led him to look to Zaphyr, riding uneasily on her own horse. Her mouth twitched nervously as she rode, as if she was unsure where to laugh with delight or scream in terror. Probably both, Zull mused. He worried about her more than anything else, and about the toll that their journey had clearly taken on her. She had been shaken by all the violence they had seen, and indeed, been forced to commit. Should we find ourselves with no other resources and no choice but to kill, what would she been willing to do? he wondered. A few weeks ago, he could have answered that question confidently. Now, he wasn’t sure.
Dark thoughts like this stayed with Zull throughout their long ride, until he found himself shaken out of his reverie by their arrival in Melkis. Drawing his horse up to a stop, General Steroth peered over the crowds, which continued to mingle despite the late hour as the celebration dragged on and on. He grimaced slightly, then said, “I specifically told my men to guard these streets. There should be patrols of soldiers weaving throughout these crowds, keeping an eye out, but I see nothing. It would seem they have abandoned their post, though whether from cowardice, confusion, or treachery, I cannot say.”
“Where is the garrison located?” Sir Kyr asked, drawing his steed up alongside General Steroth. The crowds parted partially to make room for the great war beast, creating an island of empty space around the four riders. Sir Kyr had been given a new riding cloak before leaving the palace, which he currently wore draped around himself, to avoid another riot. Though Zull admitted to himself that the crowds fleeing before Sir Kyr would expedite their journey, he also knew it wasn’t worth the risk of casualties resulting from the stampede, not when they had other options. General Steroth turned to the others and said, “Follow me.”
The knight and the twins obediently followed behind the general, who led them down one of the city’s main thoroughfares, eventually stopping at an undecorated, two-story wooden building which seemed indistinguishable from those standing on either side of it. No sign hung above the door, making it even harder to tell the building’s purpose from a glance. It looked to be part of a larger complex, including several of the other nearby buildings, which shared a common courtyard with. It occurred to him suddenly that the outside might be plain and beneath notice on purpose. The sheathed weapon is the unsuspected one, he considered.
General Steroth stepped up and knocked on the door three times sharply, then stepped back and waited patiently. After a moment, the door was opened by a soldier in armor, who stared at them blearily. Then, he recognized General Steroth and hastily snapped to attention, saluting smartly. “Sir,” he blurted out. “I did not expect you at this time of night.”
“It’s a surprise visit,” General Steroth said dryly. “Now, fetch Captain Zel, and do so quickly. This is of the upmost urgency.”
Stumbling over himself in his haste, the soldier closed the door again, rushing to do as Steroth had ordered. A short while later, the door opened again, and now Captain Zel, his uniform disheveled and his expression confused, stood before them.
“General Steroth,” he said, a flat statement as his eyes quickly ran over the twins and Sir Kyr. Ignoring them for the moment, he continued, saying, “I was not expecting your arrival, Sir, and my men and I had already turned in for the night, save for a few sentinels. What can I do for you?”
“Why aren’t there any soldiers patrolling the streets?” General Steroth said, nearly growling in his frustration. “I expressly told you to keep watch throughout the whole city for the entire night.”
Captain Zel tilted his head slightly, his expression now one of utter bewilderment. “Sir,” he said slowly. “Did you not receive the orders from Prince Blyth?”
General Steroth, clenching his fists at his sides, drew his face into a bitter grimace. “What did you say?” he asked hoarsely.
Captain Zel, now thoroughly bewildered, explained haltingly, “we…we received orders from Prince Blyth on the Empress’ behalf, a few hours ago, that we were to stop patrols for the night, as the threat of the Master had been dealt with.”
General Steroth sighed, his normally stiff posture slumping into a slouched, almost defeated expression. “Far from it. Prince Blyth was, in truth, the Master. He, along with Captain Erevex, played us all for fools, it would seem.”
Captain Zel stumbled, leaning against the door frame to keep himself from falling over entirely from shock. He looked towards Zull and Zaphyr, unbelieving. They nodded once, confirming the general’s story.
Continuing, General Steroth said, “he, along with his traitors and mercenaries, currently holds the Winter Palace, and have Prince Grevel hostage within it.”
Bowing stiffly to the general, Captain Zel said quietly, “what would you have me do, Sir?”
“Prepare your men to move as quickly as possible. We are heading to the palace to take it by force. Tonight,” General Steroth explained. Without another word, Captain Zel rose and stepped back into the building, leaving the door open behind him. General Steroth turned slightly to look at the twins, a slight smile on his face. “Good to see that it isn’t all dire news tonight. The army still stands with the rightful Empress.”
“Then, retaking the palace should prove easy,” Sir Kyr said.
“Not necessarily,” General Steroth said, rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he did so. “Fighting in a building can be quite tricky. If your enemy chooses to, they can make you bleed for every room, leaving a trail of corpses in their wake. Tight spaces always make for nasty combat.”
“That isn’t even mentioning that we shall have to face Prince Blyth himself, the Master,” Zaphyr said, speaking for the first time since they had left the palace. “His hemomantic skills are so refined, he can kill just with a look as he stops your heart. He told us as much himself.”
General Steroth stroked his mustache as he considered this. “As I said, the fighting will be tricky. But I have always said there is no such thing as an unwinnable battle. With careful planning, and a clear head, we can still seize victory.”
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“Then what are we waiting for?” Sir Kyr demanded impatiently.
“For Captain Zel to ready his men.”
They did just that, and soon enough, Captain Zel led them to a large courtyard behind the garrison building, which it shared with several others, which Zull deduced were the soldiers’ barracks. Nearly a hundred soldiers, wearing their armor and holding spears, stood there, blinking sleepily. “This was all I could find, given the time constraints,” Captain Zel said apologetically.
“It should do,” General Steroth replied. He then quickly explained to them the current situation, just as he had for their captain. By the end of his short speech, they were all fully awake.
“We face a dire situation here, men,” General Steroth said as he concluded his explanation. “The fate of not just the city of Melkis, but the throne itself, all of Waed, hangs in the balance here tonight.” He looked around, judging the reaction that his speech was getting from the men. Encouraged, he continued. “The treacherous Prince Blyth thinks he can seize the throne by force and duplicity under the cover of night and impose his mad dreams of a ruined, despotic Waed upon us all. But if a single loyal soldier still stands, he shall not become Emperor Blyth. Tell me, is there a single man loyal to the Empress here?”
Every one of the soldiers roared enthusiastically, shaking their spears above their heads. In the distance, another salvo of fireworks exploded, the sound of the explosions punctuating their cries.
“Excellent,” General Steroth said, nodding once with satisfaction. “Then ready yourself, men, because we head to the palace tonight, to take it back from the mad Prince and his foolish followers.”
He snapped his fingers, and Captain Zel came to stand obediently beside him. “Your orders, Sir?” Zel said.
“It is time to march.”
With the aid of the garrison, it now proved easy for them to make their way through the mass of the crowds as they headed back towards the Winter Palace. Marching in a loose formation, spears at the ready, the crowds were forced aside by the sheer weight and scale of the formation. The men marched in an elongated diamond shape, compressed by the comparative narrowness of the streets. At the center of the rough diamond were Steroth, Zel, the twins, and Sir Kyr. They were all now on foot, having left their horses at the barracks. “Once inside a crowded city like this, there is little value to riding our horses, and there will be even less upon reaching the palace,” Steroth had explained. The others had gone along with his suggestions easily enough.
Another cascade of fireworks exploding overhead created a shower of azure and emerald sparks across the sky, lighting the entire scene in their fantastical colors. It was a staggeringly beautiful sight, but neither Zull nor Zaphyr could bring themselves to notice it, let alone truly enjoy it, considering their current situation. They stood now on the precipice, the final challenge, their greatest battle. Everything we’ve done hinges on this, Zull considered. The thought struck him with more than a small amount of irony. He seemed to have been promising himself that with every challenge they had gone through, that it would be the last they would have to face, that after that he could rest easy. And every time, a new obstacle rears its head, another threat to our safety or the empire’s peace. When will it end? Will it ever end?
The Winter Palace, standing at the center of a large city square, now reared before them. While during the day its elegantly carved walls had seemed elegant and graceful, in the dark of the night, mixed with the occasional splashes of fey light from the fireworks, it appeared monstrous, nightmarish, a twisted thing of unreality. No lights were visible in the windows of the Winter Palace, and the curtains of every window had been drawn closed.
“What now, Sir?” Zel asked. “Should we burn the palace down, smoke them out?”
“No, there are too many innocents inside, most of all Prince Grevel,” General Steroth said.
“Not to mention Argus Vyle,” Zaphyr added.
“If you must,” General Steroth responded absently. He stroked his beard as he thought, mind racing furiously to try and reach a decision. “A fire risks killing them as well. Do you have any siege equipment, Captain?”
“The garrison possesses none, Sir,” Captain Zel said regretfully.
Sir Kyr bared his fangs in a gruesome smile. “There’s nothing to it but to go in and fight them directly.”
General Steroth nodded his head slowly. “I fear you speak truly, Sir.” With a flick of his wrist, he gestured to Captain Zel, who then barked for his men to break down the palace’s doors. Four of the men carried between them a wooden beam they had taken from the garrison building to serve as a makeshift battering ram. Together, they approached one of the palace’s many gates, pulling the ram back, then slamming it forward with all their strength. To everyone’s surprise, the gate flew open upon the slightest touch of the ram, showing that it hadn’t been barred, or even closed properly, from the inside. They waited for soldiers to pour out of the gate to attack them, but there was no response. The hall beyond the gate was shrouded in darkness, not a single lantern, candle, or other light source visible.
“An open door, and a dark hall,” Sir Kyr said. “I smell the scent of anticipation, mixed with fear, coming from within. This is a trap.”
“Of course,” General Steroth said. “Which means, of course, that we must walk into it.”
Sir Kyr growled once but said nothing. Slowly, they filed into the hallway, with a group of soldiers standing in the front serving as their vanguard, followed by Steroth and the others, then the rest of their small army following behind.
Within, it was difficult to make out anything due to the darkness, but it was clear that the hallway had been emptied, what furniture there was either having been moved or smashed. Messages had been scrawled across the walls, though in the darkness it was unclear what they were intended to say.
“I don’t like this,” Zaphyr said uneasily.
“Neither do I,” Zull said. “Be careful.”
“You know,” General Steroth observed. “It’s times like these when I wish I hadn’t given up smoking.”
Sir Kyr perked up, snuffling slightly as he swung his nose back and forth.
“Someone is coming.”
A few moments later, a stooped, withered gnome of an old man, carrying an iron lantern in one hand, entered the far end of the hallway. Stopping and squinting, he glared at them, his expression one of obvious and total distaste.
“Visitors,” he said, spitting the word as if the very thought nauseated him. “And with hostile intent, I might wager.”
“You serve Prince Blyth,” Captain Zel said, drawing his sword and pointing it at the grinning figure.
“Emperor Blyth, you mean. Or, the Master, if you prefer. I take it you wish to speak to him?”
“Arrest him for the high crime of treason would be a more accurate guess.”
The figure clucked his tongue loudly, as if he were disappointed with them all. “That, I cannot let you do. You see, he is currently performing the delicate finishing touches of a quite long and time-consuming ritual which he has been undertaking for the better part of the night. For you to interrupt him would make all that work be for waste, and I simply cannot tolerate that. I am very curious to see the results, after all.”
Zull shuddered as he realized what the ghoulish man meant. “You mean, he is already attempting to drain Prince Grevel’s life essence? We must stop him!”
The figure’s eyes darted to Zull, where they narrowed as he carefully evaluated the boy. “Ahhhhh,” he said, drawing out the sound as long as he could. “Zull Tyrell. And that would make the slack-faced welp beside you Zaphyr. Your reputation precedes you, and I must say, it does not bode well for you.”
“If you have heard of us, then you should know that your Master hired four assassins, all trained in hemomancy, to kill us,” Zaphyr said. “They’re all dead, and we’re still here.”
He laughed, slapping his knee loudly as he hopped from one foot to another in evident glee. “Oh child, child, child. And who trained you? Gerok. And who trained your precious Gerok? Me. I am Vasil Reinhand. I was trapped rotting in this prison long before either of you were even born, and I shall live on long after your sad and ultimately pathetic lives have ended.”
“And who imprisoned you? Wasn’t it Gerok, whom you taught? You must be quite the teacher, to be bested by your own student so easily,” Zull said.
“I have had enough of this,” Steroth said, growling. “Men, seize this fool.”
As the soldiers advanced, Reinhand held up a hand warningly. “I wouldn’t take another step if I were you. We had plans in case of visitors, you know. The Master made sure that you couldn’t interfere with his plans.”
“What do you mean?” Zull asked warily.
Reinhand smiled, revealed that half of his teeth were missing. “Gunpowder makes such a lovely explosion, don’t you think?”
“I don’t-”
A roar drowned out all sound at that point as the middle third of the hallway seemed to erupt upwards, then collapsed inward with a tremendous thundering sound. As the floor fell into the tunnel beneath, a relic of the catacombs that spread beneath the entire city, several of the soldiers standing on the edge of the precipice lost their balance and fell in. Zaphyr teetered on the edge, throwing her hands out to try and find support and grabbing none. Zull, reacting without a second thought, ran to the edge of the chasm and shoved Zaphyr away from it with all his might. He stumbled then, and, carried forward by the momentum of his charge, disappeared into the pit as well. Without a word, Sir Kyr followed after him, jumping down into the pit and vanishing from sight.
All of this happened so quickly that by the time Zaphyr had stood back up and cleared her head, her brother and guardian were gone, and General Steroth and Captain Zel now stood besides her at the edge of the chasm, looking across to the gleefully grinning Reinhand.
“What did you do to Zull?” Zaphyr shrieked across.
“Why, nothing at all,” Reinhand said, taking on an expression of mock innocence. “I cannot say the same for Emperor Blyth’s new pet, however…”
Zaphyr, gritting her teeth, hissed, I’m going to kill you. She tensed up, taking a step back from the edge of the pit, then ran forward and leapt. She landed on the other side, stumbling for a moment before regaining her footing. General Steroth and Captain Zel, hastily directing their men, set up wooden boards to act as bridges across the pit to join Zaphyr, who faced the withered old man, hatred in her eyes.
“You can’t escape us,” Zaphyr warned.
“On the contrary,” Reinhand said serenely. In unison, every door in the hallway flung open, and various soldiers and mercenaries all began to pour into the hallway, attacking the Empress’ forces from every side. “I have no intention to run.”