Weapon of Fear (45 page)

Metal!
 Mya realized. 
Duveau’s only
affecting metal!
 

The
wooden armor and weapons fared poorly against the storm of gold and steel,
however, and two of the knights went down in moments as the shreds of their
metal-clad brethren stabbed and slashed.

Imperial
guards joined the fray, slashing at Duveau with gleaming halberds and firing
bows from the balcony.  Those close to the wizard found their own weapons
turned against them, and although some arrows seemed to find their mark, the
archmage remained unscathed.  Wherever an arrow struck, his robe changed hue
and texture, from silver cloth to polished stone, then back again.  The shafts
shattered and fell in pieces.

With
another wave of Duveau’s hand, the high balustrade above and behind the dais
smashed back against the row of archers there.  Several bowmen crashed through
the lofty stained-glass windows in a shower of colorful shards.

The
fleeing crowd of nobles and courtiers thinned, expanding Mya’s view even
further.  Twin storms of metal now flew in deadly swarms around the prince and
Duveau, the former lashing against the scintillating sphere, the latter
slashing and stabbing at anyone who came near.  Arbuckle’s defenses had failed
to kill the archmage, and from the look of the continued onslaught, the barrier
surrounding the prince was slowly shrinking.

“Is
it time for you to
intervene
yet?”  Lady T peeked around the pillar for
a glance, then ducked back, horror plain on her face.

“You
think
?”  Mya grasped the release tabs of her gown and jerked.  The dress
fell away and she kicked off her shoes.

Unfortunately,
Mya didn’t see how she could get to Duveau without getting cut to pieces.  If
she simply charged him, she’d fare no better than the poor guards trying to
fight through the flying swords, shields, and bits of armor surrounding him.

How
do I kill him if I can’t even get to him?
  Mya gritted her teeth. 
Think!  Think like Lad…

“I’ve
got to get over there!”  Mya looked for a path that might not get her killed
and didn’t like what she found. 
Nothing for it
…  “Try not to die while
I’m gone!”

“Your
concern
for me is touching!”  Lady T hunkered behind the pillar.

“Don’t
flatter yourself, Lady.  I need you alive!”

Mya
ran straight at the next pillar and leapt.  Planting one foot against the column’s
engraved surface, she launched herself up.  Her fingers met the lower edge of a
balcony, and a deft twist brought her up and over the balustrade.  Nobles
cowered among the seats, and she did a double-take when she recognized Duke Mir
of Twailin.

Damn
it, what were the chances of that?

The
duke and duchess stared at her in terror.

“Sorry! 
No harm intended, milord.  I’m trying to save the prince’s life, but I’ve got
to get to Duveau.”  Mya crouched, readying herself to leap.

“Wait!” 
Another man—a wizard by his rune-embroidered robes—crouched on the balcony,
incongruously unrolling a large painting on canvas.  “I have a way to distract
Duveau, but it won’t last long.”

She
glanced at the dais and cringed.  The shimmering sphere around the prince and his
wizard was still shrinking.  It wouldn’t be long before Duveau’s magical attack
broke through.

“Whatever
it is, do it now!”  Without looking back, Mya launched herself from the
balcony.

Bouncing
off another lofty pillar, she landed in a sprawling heap among the seats on the
adjacent balcony. 
Lad would have done this much more gracefully
. 
Another duke and his entourage were fleeing, and barely noticed her.  Mya
disentangled herself from the broken furniture and took another running leap
toward the dais, launching herself as far as she could.

Don’t
miss, Mya! 
If she
fell, she’d plummet into a tornado of sharpened metal. 

She
caught the twisted balustrade above the dais in an iron grip and slammed into
the wall.  Thankfully, Duveau didn’t seem to have noticed her, so focused was
he on fending off the attacking guards while besieging the prince with flying
steel and gold.  Scrambling onto the balcony, she dashed along it, leaping over
the twisted metal and several dead and wounded guards.  In passing, she
snatched a handful of arrows from a quiver, ignoring the daggers and swords. 
Nothing
metal…
  She noted with satisfaction that the tips of the arrows were bone. 
The prince had prepared his forces after all.

At
the far end of the balcony, she glanced back at Duke Mir’s box, and her jaw
dropped.

A
tiny burning woman hovered in front of the now-blank canvas in the wizard’s
hands.  No more than three-feet high, her skin shimmered orange, and her hair
writhed in crackling flames.  Blowing a kiss to Mir’s wizard, she flipped
around and soared straight at Duveau.

Mya
gripped the arrows in one fist and gauged her target.  A whirlwind of metal
surrounded the archmage. 
Timing, Mya
…  If she leapt before the fiery
woman distracted Duveau, he might direct the hail of steel at her.  One blade
through her heart, and she’d be finished.  But if she waited too long, the
crown prince would die. 
Timing…it’s all about timing.

The
flaming woman streaked right at Duveau’s head.  With a flick of one hand, the
archmage sent metal lashing at her, but the shards that touched her burst into
molten fragments.  She was knocked aside by the impacts, but on she flew,
stoically fighting through the storm of steel, eyes blazing and black teeth
gleaming.  Molten slag spattered the floor around the archmage, but the hail of
metal thinned with every piece that fell in glowing hot bits.

It’s
now or never
.

Mya
leapt.

Arbuckle
crouched behind Keyfur, gritting his teeth to hold his panic in check at the
horrific onslaught.  The scintillating shield reverberated as pieces of metal, and
worse—pieces of bloody armor, pieces of men and women he knew—all torn apart and
flung at him like weapons hammered against it.  Duveau’s powers exceeded
anything he could have imagined.  The men and women of the Imperial Guard,
brave knights and squires, all sworn to protect him, fell in bloody tatters.

My
fault…

He
knew they all couldn’t have been warned against wearing metal for fear of
Duveau learning, but that gave the prince no comfort.  They were dying because
of him.

Metal
sang against the shimmering shield, inches away now as it shrank with every
resounding blow.  His ears rang with the howl of impacts, the muffled screams
of his dying guards, and the continued stoic chant of his brave wizard
protector.

Keyfur
…

The
mage no longer stood straight over his charge, but crouched to remain inside
the shield.  His voice rang hoarse, his sweat dripping onto the floor as if he
had been laboring for hours, though the attack couldn’t have been going on for
even a minute.  The shield scintillated and shrank as missile after missile
slammed into it.  Arbuckle hunkered closer, pressing up against Keyfur’s legs,
and felt them trembling.

Suddenly
the wizard’s chant rose into a shriek.  The mage didn’t stop his recitation,
but each word sounded as if it had been ripped from his throat.  Arbuckle felt
a warm spatter against his cheek and looked up.  A rain of blood blinded him,
but not before he saw that Keyfur’s outthrust hands were now thrust
outside
the rainbow barrier into the tornado of metal.

As
Keyfur’s blood smeared the rainbow of light about them, Arbuckle prepared
himself for death.

Mya
plunged through the tornado of steel.  Tattered armor and broken weapons
pierced her without pain, knocking her off target.  Twisting like a cat, she
thrust the arrows down at the crown of the archmage’s head.

Duveau
moved.

The
arrows pierced the wizard at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, just above
the collar of his enchanted robe.  The force of the blow drove the shafts down
into his chest, and blood flooded over Mya’s fists as the arrows snapped off in
her grasp.

She
smashed to the floor with stunning force, felt a sickening crunch as the bones
of her knee and shoulder shattered on the unyielding flagstones.  Her head
cracked down hard as she rolled, and her sight faded to gray.  Her subconscious
would have none of it, screaming at her,
You missed!  He’s going to kill
you!  Move!

Too
late—shards of metal showered down on her.

Huddled
on the cold stone, Mya wondered why she didn’t feel the painless rending of
flesh and organs, the sickening weakness of her lifeblood leaving her body. 
She knew what that felt like.  Instead, she shuddered as bones began to snap
back into place.  She wasn’t dead.  Rolling over, she looked up at Duveau.

The
archmage stood in open-mouthed shock, one hand scrabbling to stem the bright
blood that pulsed from his neck.  All the flying metal surrounding him had fallen
from the air, inanimate as his magic failed.

Ha! 
I didn’t miss… 
Mya
bridled her elation as she noticed Duveau’s other hand fishing something from a
pocket, a small black sphere no bigger than a marble.  Clutching it in
trembling fingers, he raised it to his mouth.

Mya
didn’t know what the sphere was, but whatever Duveau meant to do with it
couldn’t be good for her.  Knowing she couldn’t regain her feet and reach him
before the black sphere met his lips, she felt around desperately for some sort
of weapon.

She
never got the chance.

“Noooo,
wizard!”  The tiny burning woman darted in, her blazing hands closing around
the archmage’s wrist.  Flesh hissed under her burning grasp.

Duveau
screamed.  His hand spasmed open and the black sphere fell into the mire of
blood and metal.  He tried to fling the fiery woman from his arm, shrieking
arcane words.  Frost formed around his other hand even as blood pulsed from his
neck, and the little burning woman’s eyes grew wide with fear.

Mya’s
fingers found a broken spear, the splintered tip of the shaft needle sharp. 
She took aim and threw it with all her strength.

This
time she didn’t miss.

The
broken shaft pierced Duveau’s left eye and exited through the top of his
skull.  The archmage’s head snapped back, and he stood there for a moment like
a bloody silver pillar, then dropped like a poleaxed steer.

Mya
leaned back and heaved a sigh.  It was over.  Shifting as the last of her
broken bones ground back into place, she started as the tiny burning woman flew
at her, black teeth gleaming in a snarl. 

“Sssilly
woman!  Master Woefler
promised
I could eat him, and you ruined it!”

“Sorry.” 
Mya coughed, and felt a catch in her chest.  Swallowing her nausea—
No pain
—she
wrenched a piece of broken plate armor from between her ribs and dropped it to
the floor.  Plucking a few more pieces of metal from her flesh, she waved
toward Duveau’s body.  “You can have what’s left.”

“Oh,
he’s no good now!  There’s nothing left but meat!  No sssoul!”  The flaming
woman glared at her with eyes that blazed like Hades, then flew away.

Mya
lurched to her feet and looked toward the dais, wondering if she had struck in
time.

Arbuckle
sat amid a pile of fallen metal and a heap of blood-soaked robes, his shoulders
heaving.  The crown prince of Tsing was alive.  Unfortunately, she couldn’t say
as much for the prince’s wizard.  Bright blood painted the mage’s flamboyant
robes as he lay in Arbuckle’s arms, his sweat-sheened face a deathly gray.  His
hands were gone, and blood pulsed from the stumps of his wrists.  The prince
was trying to staunch the flow, but to little effect.  Mya shook her head.  The
wizard would bleed out in moments without a healer unless—