The Agent (39 page)

With nearly the entire palace guard rushing to the walls and outer doors, only the servant staff roamed the halls in search of loved ones or a place to hide. No one paid any heed to the two intruders as they strode confidently down the corridors.

“Crap!” Garran exclaimed and shoved Adam down a side passage.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just saw Gregor, and I think he spotted us.”

“What do we do?”

Garran swallowed and took a quick look around. “Keep going, find your sister, and get out. I’ll try to lead Gregor away.”

“Garran, if he catches you…”

“It doesn’t matter now. I lied when I said I didn’t need you anymore. Once you get Evelyn away and our people take the capital, I’m the one who is no longer needed. It’s up to you and Evelyn to gain control and destroy The Guild once and for all. You have to lead the people to rise up against their oppressors. I cannot do that, and that is what this is all about.”

Adam shook his head. “Even now, through all of this, I still do not get you.”

“Yeah, ain’t it awesome? Here, take one of my knives. Maybe you can stab someone when they aren’t looking. I’ll make sure Gregor sees me and lead him away.” Garran grabbed Adam by the elbow before he could leave. “By the way, the baby isn’t Gordon’s. I thought you should know just in case you were thinking about pushing her down the stairs.”

“I wouldn’t…Why would you think I would even consider doing something like that?”

“It’s all about options. Never mind. Just go.”

Adam turned down another corridor as Garran ran to the end of the hall and waited for Gregor to appear. He allowed the senior agent to catch sight of him before rounding the next corner.

Seeing Garran slip away, Gregor lengthened his stride, unsure if he trusted his eyes or if he was chasing a phantom conjured up by his mind. Every time he rounded a corner, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the young man who had managed to turn a simple coup into a colossal pain in the ass. If he truly was chasing Garran through the palace halls, then this was his big gambit. This night would ultimately declare the winner of their months-long game of cat and mouse.

He turned a corner and found himself alone in an empty hall. The sound of breaking glass issued through the throne room doors. Gregor drew his sword and held it at the ready as he pushed open one of the doors and stepped through. Garran stood next to a liquor cabinet, taking a deep swig from a bottle before casting it away where it shattered near the foot of the dais. A graveyard of broken bottles lay in front of the steps, their contents soaking the thick carpet.

“Seems like a waste of good booze,” Gregor said as he casually strode into the room.

Garran took another long pull, read the label, and shrugged before tossing it away. “I’ve pissed in better.”

Gregor shook his head and chuckled. “You do like to stick it to authority.”

“Amongst other things. Too bad you never married.”

“It’s almost a shame I have to kill you.”

“You don’t. Take your ill-gotten gains and leave. Go retire somewhere quiet and never show your face in Anatolia again. I won’t stop you, and I won’t come looking.”

“Sorry, but I just can’t do that.”

“It’s too bad you didn’t show this much dedication to Remiel,” Garran said as he drew his reaping blades and sauntered down the dais steps.

It was the first thrust of their fight, and it struck home. Gregor shook off the verbal strike and readied his sword. “I think we both know you aren’t ready to face me.”

“I don’t know any such thing. You are getting pretty long in the tooth these days.”

“Weapons play is like sex, experience trumps youth every time.”

“That’s assuming one still has the strength to swing his sword.”

There was only a moment of positioning before both men transcended. Garran knew he faced a superior foe and immediately took the offensive. His reaping blades nearly hummed with the power and speed of his swings as they cut through the air and rang out when Gregor parried.

Garran knew his best hope lie in fatiguing Gregor quickly and delivering a telling blow when he faltered, but that event looked unlikely to come, the odds shifting against Garran with every swing that failed to connect.

Where Victor had fought with furious zeal and overwhelming power, Gregor moved with the practiced, flawless perfection of a true sword master. His swings, thrusts, and parries looked almost lackadaisical, but his sword was always there to block an attack, his body never failing to shift away to give Garran’s blade a hair’s breadth of room to pass harmlessly by.

Within minutes, Garran felt the toll wrought on his body by his furious assault while Gregor’s breathing was steady and controlled and had barely broken a sweat. Sensing Garran’s flagging strength, Gregor pressed the attack and drove him back across the room.

Garran bled from half a dozen wounds of varying depths while Gregor displayed only a single cut to his thigh. While none was lethal or even severe, the slow but constant blood loss took its toll. Knowing that he had lost whatever edge he might have possessed, Garran executed a risky gambit, one that had paid off against Victor, and he hoped it would do so with Gregor.

Garran waited for Gregor’s thrust, parried it, and spun behind him while slashing at his exposed side and back. His left reaping blade scored a solid hit on Gregor’s side. Continuing his pirouette, his right weapon dove for the agent’s back to deliver a mortal blow.

Gregor did not attempt to mimic or follow Garran’s twirl. He turned his side toward Garran, accepted the deep cut, and thrust out, taking advantage of his sword’s greater reach. Garran’s reaping blade hissed past, snagging a wrinkle in his leather coat. His sword whisked over the top of Garran’s seeking reach and plunged into his chest just to the right of his sternum.

Garran staggered backward toward the dais, dropped his weapons, and collapsed against the steps. “Bloody hell.”

Gregor approached, ready to finish the fight, but Garran held up a staying hand. “Wait!” He coughed out a wad of blood as he fished inside his coat pocket for a tobacco twist. “Allow me a final smoke and a drink before you finish me.” Gregor balked, wondering what sort of trick Garran was playing. “Come on, we both know I’m already dead.”

Gregor sighed and retrieved one of the few remaining bottles from Gordon’s liquor cabinet. His feet squelched on the alcohol-soaked carpet as he handed his former protégé the whiskey. Garran accepted the bottle with a smile and took a long pull. He clamped the tobacco twist between his blood-flecked lips and lit it with a sulfur stick.

Garran smiled, sighed, and coughed as he took a long drag from the opium and rapture root-laced twist. He looked at the puff of smoke that swirled out of the hole in his chest and laughed.

“I really am a goddam mess.”

“I can’t think of a single person in this world who would argue with that. I don’t suppose you’ll save me some trouble and tell me what you did with Adam?” Garran raised his hand and gave him the finger. “I thought not. Contentious to the end. I really did have high hopes for you, Garran. I hate to have to do this.”

Garran looked up as Gregor approached, his sword held to deliver a swift, fatal blow. “I’ve been looking forward to doing this for years.”

Garran lit another sulfur stick, touched it to the wooden box containing a dozen more, and tossed it at Gregor’s feet. The alcohol-soaked carpet burst into flames and engulfed Gregor’s feet. The senior agent barked out a cry of surprise and danced backward to escape the fire. Garran shoved himself off the steps, staggered forward, and spit mouthful after mouthful of potent liquor at Gregor, spreading the flames up his legs until they engulfed his entire body.

Gregor screamed and flailed about the room until Garran picked up one of his reaping blades from the floor and buried it in his head. Gregor collapsed in a flaming heap, his terrified cries instantly silenced.

“That’s for Colin, you sonofabitch.”

Spent, he staggered back to the dais, sank down against the steps, and let the booze and drugs take him away from his mortal pain.

CHAPTER 39

Adam stole down the hall, ducking into alcoves and empty rooms to avoid the occasional, terrified servant or palace courtier seeking a place of refuge from the impending siege. It took only a few minutes for him to reach his sister’s rooms, and he prayed she was inside. If Gordon or his soldiers had taken her away to hide her elsewhere in the palace, it could take hours to locate her.

The Prince found the outer door to Evelyn’s chambers unlocked. Steeling his resolve, he opened the door partway, peered into the room, and entered. Adam’s heart lurched when he found the room empty. He made it halfway across the living chamber on his way to Evelyn’s bedroom when three soldiers stepped out from behind the curtains and an antechamber. Adam stopped and raised his knife. Gordon appeared from the bedroom gripping his wife’s hand.

“Hello, brother,” Gordon greeted.

“Adam!” Evelyn cried.

“Release my sister at once!”

“I think not. Where is Garran?”

“He is dealing with Gregor and has likely killed him by now. You are done here. The palace will soon fall, and we will destroy The Guild for good.”

“I think not. The inner walls will keep out your barbarians long enough for reinforcements to arrive. I will give you one chance to surrender and accept the very gracious offer I made you and my dear wife.”

“Never!”

“She has already lost so much. Do not be the reason she loses the last of her family.”

Adam glanced at the three soldiers and met Evelyn’s eyes. Evelyn stood proud and gently shook her head.

“No,” Adam declared. “The Altena line does not yield to tyranny, even at the cost of our lives. I will give you one chance to surrender before I give you to the headsman along with your conspirators.”

Gordon smiled at his wife. “Well, you cannot say I did not try to keep my pledge.” He looked to his guards. “Kill him.”

“No!” Evelyn shouted.

The three men rushed forward as one. Adam fell into himself and reached for his power.

“Stop!”

Two of the soldiers froze mid-step, their eyes wide with fear when their bodies refused to obey their commands. The third man stumbled, regained control, and continued his attack. Adam ducked the blow and dodged away. The soldier followed, swinging his weapon in hopes of quickly ending the fight.

Even with his recent training, Adam knew he lacked the soldier’s skill with the blade, but he was not defenseless. He wielded the knife as if it were an extension of his body and wove it into his monastic meditation exercises. His blade soared and swooped, deflecting the soldier’s swings and thrusts.

The Prince’s odd fighting style baffled the soldier, but he knew a purely defensive routine, no matter how well executed, would eventually fail. It took only a single missed parry to end the battle, so he stepped up his attack.

Adam felt himself tiring. He lacked the stamina of a true swordsman, but he possessed other talents, although he loathed using them in such a brutal manner. With no other choice, he called upon his god-touched power once again. He knew the soldier’s resolve was too great to overcome, particularly now that he was focused on combat, but oftentimes subtly could prevail where brute force failed.

Adam held Garran’s knife in his offhand and sheathed it in magic that would cause the man not to notice it. The small blade flashed forward inside of the man’s guard. The soldier’s mind vaguely registered the plunging stroke, but he dismissed it as the threat it truly was. The knife struck him in the chest, piercing the leather and mail armor, and sundering the beating heart beneath it.

Adam quelled his rising nausea and pointed the bloody blade at Gordon. “It is over.”

“It is not over!” Gordon seethed. He wrapped his arm around Evelyn’s throat and pressed a dagger against her swollen belly. “You have accomplished nothing! My allies will come and destroy you and your pathetic army.”

“They will not arrive in time. We have conspirators throughout the city and even within the palace. They will open the gates to our forces and bar them against yours. I have another army approaching as we speak. Even if The Guild could manage to raise enough swords to fight the Hillmen, they will find the city denied them and will be crushed against the walls by the mercenaries you invited into the country. You offered to spare my life, and I will make the same offer this one time. Let my sister go and run. Run as far and as fast as you can.”

Gordon shook his head, the last of his resolve flagging. “No, this cannot be.” He turned his head toward the sounds of battle outside the window in the courtyard below. The barbarians were on the palace grounds. “Promise me that you will not hunt me down, that no agent will seek me out for vengeance.”

Adam nodded. “I swear it.”

“I swear on the souls of my father and mother, neither I nor any agent in my name shall seek vengeance upon you,” Evelyn promised.

Gordon glanced around the room before pushing Evelyn toward Adam. “I never asked for any of this,” he said as he sidled around the room to reach the door.

“Gordon,” Evelyn said, “leave the crown. It was never yours to wear.”

Gordon tore the gold crown from his head and tossed it onto the sofa before sprinting through the door and down the hall. Evelyn wrapped her brother in a tight embrace.

“I never thought I would see you again!”

“I am sorry it took me so long and you had to bear all of this alone, but I am here now. Let us leave this place. We have friends in the city who will shelter us until our forces seize the palace and end The Guild’s threat.”

Evelyn pushed away from Adam and scooped up the discarded crown. “No. There has been too much blood spilled for this crown, and it stops now.” She handed the crown to Adam. “Put this on. Gordon has some proper clothes here you can wear.”

“What are you doing?”

“I am doing what a good queen does. I am taking control of my kingdom and ending this violence.” She looked to the two men frozen in place. “How long will they remain like this?”

“Not long.”

The furious queen strode up to the nearest man and delivered a powerful slap. “You now stand at a crossroads, soldier. Will you obey your rightful King and Queen, or will you maintain your treasonous loyalty to murderous usurpers? Think carefully as your life depends on your answer.”

The soldier felt the hold on his body release with Her Majesty’s rebuke. He glanced from his fellow and to the last of the Altena line. “What would you command of me, Highness?”

“Rally the guard force. Inform them that the true rulers of Anatolia are once again in power, and order them to stand down and take no offensive action against the invaders. Any man who disobeys my order will be put to death for treason.”

The man ducked his head and elbowed his companion into motion. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Adam watched the two men scurry from the room. “Evelyn, you know I cannot take the throne.”

“Of course I do, but most of them do not or will likely have forgotten that small detail long enough for us to restore order. The people need to hear from their King, and for this one day, that is you. Now, go get dressed so you can address your people and stop these Hillmen before they burn the entire city to ground around us.”

Evelyn strode over to a wardrobe and began pulling out articles of clothing. Adam quickly donned the regal garb until Evelyn declared him suitably dressed for the task.

Adam stopped as he laced up his velvet doublet. “Oh my god Garran!”

“What?”

“I forgot about Garran! He lured Gregor away so I could find you.”

“You said he had killed Gregor.”

“I was bluffing. I have no idea what happened. I have to find him.”

“We do not have time. He could be anywhere.”

Adam scooped up the knife he had dropped onto the floor. “I can find him.” He rested the blade on the palm of his hand and called upon his magic. The knife swiveled until the tip pointed in the direct they needed to go. “He’s this way.”

Adam led Evelyn by the hand down the halls back in the direction where he and Garran had separated. Adam slowed as they neared the throne room and the knife ceased its wavering. He rushed into the room and held his sleeve over his nose and mouth to block the acrid stench of burnt flesh.

He strode past what he assumed was Gregor’s charred remains with barely a glance and rushed to where Garran lay on the dais steps in an expanding pool of blood with an empty bottle clutched in his right hand. Adam felt for a pulse and feared he was too late when he touched Garran’s pallid, clammy skin, but then he felt the weak thrum of a single heartbeat beneath his fingers.

Adam reached deep and pulled upon every bit of power he possessed and sent it flowing into Garran’s body. Garran’s life force was so far gone that it felt as if Adam were trying to blow out a candle from across the room, but he continued to pour healing energy into his fallen friend until he had nothing left to give.

Garran moaned, opened his eyes to slits, and swung the bottle at Adam’s head. “Die, you bastard!”

Adam grabbed Garran’s wrist and held it firm. “Garran, it’s me, Adam!”

“I know it’s you! You just screwed me out of what was likely the only chance I would ever have of dying with dignity. Now I’m probably going to die like a filthy wretch, mad with fever from syphilis and lying in my own filth. Nice going, Pickle Tits.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure you have soiled yourself, so there wasn’t quite as much dignity in this death as you might think,” Adam said. “And you might not have syphilis, but I’m sure you are rife with a host other diseases, sexual and otherwise.”

Garran took Adam’s hand and squeezed it. “You always know what to say to make me feel better. Oh, Adam, you should have seen it. I was there, on the other side.”

“Heaven you mean?”

“It had to be. I had a prick like a pike and an opium pipe with a bowl the size of a goddam water tower. It was glorious…and you took that away from me, you sonofabitch!” Garran tried to strike him once more.

Adam restrained him and tried to keep him calm. “I’m sorry I saved your life.”

Garran coughed and swooned as he tried to sit up. “You should be.” Garran beckoned Adam to come closer. “Help me sit up.”

“You need to lay back and rest.”

“I need to tell you something. Come close. I made a promise, and I have to keep it,” he whispered hoarsely.

Adam cradled Garran’s head in his arm and helped him sit up as he knelt beside him. “What promise?”

“Come close. Look me in the eyes.”

Adam leaned closer, barely able to hear Garran’s words. “What is it?”

“That’s two.”

“Wha—”

Garran’s fist flashed and punched Adam in the crotch. Adam dropped Garran’s head to bounce on the dais as he clutched his groin, toppled onto his side, and moaned.

Evelyn stood over her brother. “This is the man who defeated our kingdom’s two greatest agents, toppled The Guild, rescued us both, and restored our rule? Our nation has truly fallen on hard times.”

Evelyn shrieked and danced away when she glanced down and found Garran’s fingers scrabbling at the edges of her dress in an effort to peek beneath it. “Ew, you retched little man!”