The Wounded Guardian (8 page)

‘Halt! Who are you and what is your business?’ one of the gate guards challenged. There were only two of them, although there was a bellpull behind them that would sound the alarm. But neither guard made even the slightest move towards this alarm. At first glance Chelten’s group was strange enough—they had arrived after midnight and were dressed all in black; black tunics and black leggings, broken only by the badge of Duke Gello over the left side of their chest.

Duke Gello was the commander of the army. Where could the harm be in men with his badge?

‘We are from Duke Gello—part of his bodyguard. We are here to steal the Dragon Sword, throw the country into chaos and allow our master to seize power,’ Chelten said conversationally.

Both guards roared with laughter.

‘An excellent jest! But seriously now, who are you here to see?’

Chelten pointed behind them.

‘Who’s your watch officer tonight?’

Both instinctively swivelled. ‘Lieutenant Blunt’s on tonight,’ one said. ‘Do you want us to call him?’

Chelten smiled. ‘No, I’ll find him,’ he said casually,
then drew a long knife and slammed it into the back of the first guard’s neck. He liked working with knives. Knives could be concealed so easily on the body, whereas people were always asking you to take swords off, or hand them over. Besides, killing with a knife meant you had to get close to your victim. The second guard started to turn, but before he could open his mouth, Chelten’s men were on him, one holding his mouth shut as three others thrust short-swords into his lungs and heart.

‘Quickly now!’ Chelten urged them on as they dragged the bodies into the shadow of the gate and hurried over to the guardhouse where the rest of the guards would be relaxing between shifts. Not that Chelten was concerned by a handful of the Royal Guard. He had picked and trained his men for this night over the past year and he would back them against a force three times their number.

So it proved. Four men were relaxing in the gatehouse with their officer but, without a warning, they stood no chance. They were hacked down without mercy.

Chelten smiled thinly. He signalled for two men to watch the gate, then led the other four into the palace grounds. They paused by a servants’ door before going inside and he decided to run through the instructions one last time. They had trained incessantly for this but killing the guards would have got their blood racing. He wanted no mistakes.

‘The Dragon Sword will be guarded by no more than four men. We will need to be swift. Any servants we see must be killed instantly. Understood?’

‘Why don’t we finish the job and just go in and kill the Queen? The guards are dead and the palace is at our mercy!’

‘Three reasons, Karney—first, her quarters will be warded by magics cast by her tame magician. Try to get in there and you’ll be trapped until morning. How would that look then, eh?’ he slapped the man’s chest, right over the badge of Duke Gello. ‘Second, if we killed the Queen, suspicion would fall on the Duke, and the nobles might just rally around an alternative that put himself up for King, like Count Sendric. Third, and most important, I say we don’t, and I’ll rip your guts out if you disobey me! Clear?’

Karney, and the other three, quickly nodded, so he waved them inside. He was annoyed but only slightly. Killing the Queen was the course of action he had proposed to Duke Gello. With the Queen dead, the way would be clear for Gello to take the crown, as the next in line to the throne. But the Duke had other ideas.

‘Chelten, I cannot seize the crown! That would lead to all sorts of problems. No, I must be seen to be reluctantly taking on a heavy responsibility because my dear cousin is not up to the job of ruling.’

‘And how will they see she is not up to the task?’ Chelten dared to ask. Normally he would not have been so bold but Gello had to trust him absolutely to tell him this. After all, what they were discussing was treason.

‘She’s a woman! Women can’t rule! It is a fact that should have been obvious years ago but my fellow nobles need something dramatic to prove it to them. When the Dragon Sword is stolen, it will show she cannot keep the country safe and they will turn to me. You, of course, will steal it and take it out of the country. Then we shall have Norstalos, and from there we can crush every country that does not bend to me!’

‘Being killed would also show she couldn’t protect the country,’ Chelten had offered, almost drunk with the thrill of being able to speak to the Duke like this. Besides, he was reluctant to leave the country just when the Duke was seizing power. He wanted to be there for that—and for when the rewards were handed out.

‘It is an attractive idea but her death would create more problems than it would solve,’ Gello sighed. ‘She was ordained by the church, and no doubt they would accuse me of the death. Unfortunately most of the peasants still listen to the blithering of the priests and I don’t need unrest in the villages. What I need are the peasants volunteering their sons for my army of conquest, not muttering about regicide and revolt. Then there are the nobles. I’ve won most of them over to my side and I have them ready to act. As soon as the Dragon Sword is gone they will call for me to take over. But if the Queen is dead there are a few who might bring up the Dragon Sword…’

Gello paused then and even in that intimate atmosphere Chelten knew his master well enough not to say anything. Gello had been the Crown Prince, groomed from birth to be the next King. But then he had been unable to draw the Dragon Sword, meaning he could never take the throne. The disgrace and humiliation had led the Duke to this point. It may have been years ago but it might as well have been yesterday. Chosen for his skill with a blade, Chelten had been assigned to protect the young noble. Chelten, just a few years older than Gello, had idolised the young Duke and King-in-waiting. Both had been devastated when Gello had tried, and failed, to draw the Dragon Sword. But
while Chelten was still content to serve the Duke, Gello’s disappointment turned to anger and bitterness, then hatred at the way his cousin would take the throne. A burning desire to take back what he saw as his stolen birthright had launched Gello on this path.

‘No, this is the best way. Having you “discover” the Dragon Sword in another country will be the official end of my cousin and prime the country to invade our neighbours. A glorious future awaits!’

Thinking of that glorious future lightened Chelten’s steps as he led his men in a silent rush through the palace. He had walked this route a score of times during the day. The Dragon Sword was kept on the second floor, in a converted meeting chamber. He led his men up side stairs and along a wide passageway then paused them at a corner. He drew his knives and nodded at his men. This was no time for talking—the last guards would be paces away. They could even hear the pair of them chatting softly; the usual talk of men on boring guard duty—about drink, women and when they would get off the night watch. Chelten signalled to Karney to lead two men into the chamber to take out the guards there. The last man would watch Chelten’s back. It was the way they had planned, although Chelten was supremely confident of taking out two of the Queen’s Royal Guard. Royal Guard! That was a laugh. Royally useless, they were. A pack of peasants, only chosen from King Riel’s old regiment, the Rangers. Thought that put them above everyone else but they would soon find out that was a fatal mistake. He let his anger flower for a moment, then stepped around the corner, already moving into a run, feet silent on the wooden floor in his soft leather shoes.

The two guards looked up, and only had enough time to choose whether to ask a question or fight back. Unfortunately both had become too used to a soft duty and chose to ask what the man in black was doing, rather than focus on the bright knives in his hands. A fatal error.

The other two guards may have been alerted by the noises outside but they had been relaxing, eating a meal at a small table. They had just drawn their swords when Karney burst in and immediately found themselves facing three skilled swordsmen. It only took moments for them to die. Chelten let his men shut the door, drag the bodies away and retrieve his knives. Instead he walked across the room to where the fabled Dragon Sword sat on an elaborate stand in the centre of the room. Even in the dimly-lit chamber, its hilt and scabbard seemed to sparkle, adding both light and lustre to the shadows. He stepped closer and stroked the bejewelled scabbard. It was truly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The leather scabbard felt curiously warm to the touch and he felt his hand drawn towards the elaborate golden hilt. The hilt was the dragon’s body, the pommel its coiled tail, while the wings flared to form the quillons. His hand ached to touch the hilt, to see if he could draw the Sword. He could feel his heart beating faster as his fingers drew near. Another heartbeat and he would be touching it…what if he could be the wielder of the Dragon Sword? It was a thrilling thought. His fingers moved closer, then a warning hiss made him jerk back his hand as if scalded, and he spun to see who had made the noise.

‘Who was that?’ he snapped.

‘Who was what, Sergeant?’ Karney asked for all of them.

Chelten turned to look at the Sword again. Had it…Surely not! He reached out once more, then thought better of it.

‘Bring me a cloak,’ he snapped.

Hands now protected by thick cloth, he took the Sword down and wrapped it up. He was unable to restrain a triumphant smile.

‘Now for the horses. We shall ride to Tetril, hide there for a few weeks, and then return in triumph. We’ll move only at night and stay off the roads. Nothing can stop us now!’

The palace was in an uproar. The bodies had not been discovered until the daily food deliveries had arrived just before dawn. Even then there had been a delay because the deliverymen had run to fetch some militia rather than go inside by themselves, then the militia sergeant had not wanted to walk into the palace without an officer, then the officer had to find a Royal Guard officer, who had to find the Royal Chamberlain to talk to the Queen. The sun had risen before there was enough organisation to send word to close the city gates. And then there was the dispute over who should pursue the invaders. The militia’s responsibility ended at the city gates, while the Royal Guard only had jurisdiction over the palace. Anything beyond that fell to the army, which was commanded by Duke Gello, and his permission had to be sought before messages could be sent to the cavalry regiments to pursue the thieves and murderers.

Queen Merren had been woken by her maids but had been unable to come down to inspect for herself until she had been dressed and her hair styled. Her father had always said that royalty was not allowed to look as though it had just leapt out of bed. It was
a frustrating wait and she found herself fighting the urge to scream with anger for the maids to hurry up. There were far more important things than hairstyles going on, yet she knew if she did not walk out looking immaculate, there would be more whispers spread about her.

She forced herself to look in the mirror. She knew she was not the image of a saga princess; her chin was too strong, her nose just a little too long, but she had long blonde hair and green eyes and men always fell over themselves to pay her compliments. Although the things they said behind her back…she sighed and submitted to the efforts of the maids.

Finally she arrived at the gate, to find the militia and the Royal Guard arguing over who should be sent to Duke Gello. Resisting the urge to yell at them and keeping her face impassive, she ordered the militia to send the messages, although she knew it would take most of the morning to find the Duke, then have messengers reach the cavalry. The thieves would be long gone by then. Listening to the conversation quickly showed her there was little more she could do. They were at a loss and she had no desire to listen to excuses from the Royal Guard or apologies from the militia. Besides, as soon as she had seen that the Dragon Sword was gone, she had felt an icy fist close around her heart. Something had to be done and she did not trust these men to achieve anything. Instead she summoned her Royal Magician, Barrett, to a private audience chamber, where she could be sure gossiping servants in the pay of Duke Gello were not going to report what was said…

‘What can you tell me?’ she asked him immediately. Of all the men who served her—or pretended to serve her—she trusted just this one.

Unlike the typical mage, Barrett was relatively young, in his mid thirties, with long dark hair tied back and no hint of the beard that the older wizards seemed to love. Instead of strangely-coloured robes, he preferred to wear tunic and trousers, albeit of a rich purple and green, while his wizard’s staff was plain wood, unadorned with the usual feathers, silver charms and strange bones that often festooned a traditional wizard’s staff. It was a statement in itself. Only someone so talented in the magic arts could so disdain the usual costume of his kind.

‘It was undoubtedly Gello’s men, my Queen,’ Barrett sighed. ‘No ordinary thieves could have gained entry so easily, nor dealt with so many Royal Guards in silence. And who else has so much to gain?’

‘Agreed. So what will happen if I simply accuse him, and demand he submit to the Archbishop of Norstalos, for judgement by Aroaril?’

Barrett looked at her in shock. ‘Accuse the Duke of murder and theft of the country’s greatest treasure? We could try it, but there is no way we could force him to appear before the Archbishop. It would, perhaps, throw some doubt in the minds of ordinary people, but as far as the nobles are concerned, they would not stand for it. The most powerful noble in the land treated like a common criminal without a scrap of evidence? They will clamour for Gello to take over.’

Merren sighed. ‘That is what I feared. So what will he do with it?’

Barrett considered for a second. ‘He has to get it out of the country. With the Dragon Sword gone, the people will be afraid and the nobles will be terrified. It will only be a matter of days before the Duke
claims he was asked to step in with the army to maintain the peace. Then some of his men will “find” the Dragon Sword in another country and he has an excuse to lead an invasion. By then he will be King in all but name, and, with the country at war, who will stand in his way when his tame nobles call for him to be anointed as ruler? So what if he cannot draw the Dragon Sword?’