‘Just grazed me,’ he said, moaning. ‘I’m fine.’
Annev chanced a look at the back of the room and saw the three guardsmen with shields were covering the four crossbowmen as they reloaded. Four more guards had begun to navigate the edge of the room, weaving around the pillars, furniture, and assembled art.
They’re trying to flush us out, Annev realised.
At the opposite end of the room, Janak brushed away a crossbow quarrel that had struck his magical shield and shook the Rod of Compulsion at his men.
‘Kill them, you shits!’
In response, the four approaching guards broke from cover and charged, forcing the avatars to fight them in the open.
‘Now shoot them!’ Janak yelled.
The crossbows twanged a moment later, and Annev ducked behind a pillar again, escaping the flying quarrels. Kenton took shelter behind a stout wooden chest, still holding off a guard, and Fyn escaped injury by placing his own opponent between himself and the crossbowmen. Two crossbow bolts punched into the man’s back, toppling him, and Fyn finished him off by crunching his maces into the fellow’s neck and chest.
Janak’s not going to give up, Annev realised, parrying the sword stroke of the fat guard still facing him. It doesn’t matter how many we kill. He’ll keep throwing men at us until we’re overwhelmed or we’ve killed every member of his guard.
But why stop there? Janak had the Rod of Compulsion. He could force them to fight every member of his household … every citizen of Banok.
‘Fyn!’ Annev shouted, dancing back from a sword thrust. ‘You have to kill Janak!’
‘Can’t with that shield up!’ The avatar flicked his maces, flinging gore across a bleached leather divan, then he ducked behind a pillar to avoid the next wave of quarrels.
Right, Annev thought, his back to his pillar while the guards reloaded their crossbows and the fat guardsman circled around the other side. As he waited for the man’s attack, Annev tried to recall everything he knew about wards of deflection: the source of the spell was likely an artifact near Janak – something he was touching that had a glyph or symbol inscribed on it. Probably not the incense lamp since that was inside his protective sphere …
The guard reached around the pillar, swinging his shortsword for Annev’s head. Annev ducked and dropped to the ground then stabbed with Mercy, aiming for the man’s groin. The man deflected the low blow and kicked Annev in the face, sending him sprawling. Annev spat a mouthful of blood and hazily saw the crossbowmen taking aim once more. With no other cover nearby, he gritted his teeth and rolled back towards his opponent.
Sharp air! Annev thought, imbuing his will into the weapon and extending its edge. At the same time, the crossbow bolts flew, two of them smashing into the ground where Annev had just been.
The guard raised his sword, prepared to deflect Annev’s clumsy attack and then skewer him on the floor. Instead, Mercy crashed through the guard’s blade, slicing perfectly through metal, flesh, and bone – but Annev’s attack didn’t stop there: as the guard’s forearm and sundered shield fell to the ground, Mercy continued her arc, slicing deep into the man’s midsection.
The guard toppled, blood pooling from his injuries, and Annev took sanctuary behind the pillar once more. The dying man gripped his bleeding forearm, and Annev watched the life leave his eyes, feeling sick. This was the first person – not a witch or a feurog – whose death he had directly caused and he felt awful, but he also knew there had been no choice: none of them would survive the night without blood on their hands, and Annev couldn’t let Janak threaten Chaenbalu and his friends. He steeled his resolve, quieting the part of him that saw humanity in his attackers. They were like the feurog – brutish puppets following the commands of a maddened puppeteer – and if Annev did not kill them, they would certainly kill him.
‘Idiots!’ Janak roared, wheeling his chair in front of his desk. ‘Stop wasting time with those crossbows and kill these fools!’
Annev studied Janak and suddenly the answer dawned on him. Of course … the wheels! He turned, shouting at Fyn, who had taken cover behind the bronze suit of armour.
‘Fyn! Break the gems on Janak’s chair!’
‘Break what?’
‘The wheels!’ Annev shouted. ‘Smash the stones on the wheels!’
Fyn didn’t seem to fully understand, but he nodded and dashed out into the open.
Annev eased out from behind the pillar and took in the scene at a glance. Kenton was crouching behind a pillar, a makeshift dressing around his wounded leg. Meanwhile the guards at the back of the room had exchanged their crossbows for spears and were fanning out, circling around and behind Annev and Kenton’s position. Annev dashed over to Kenton and helped the raven-haired boy to his feet. Kenton tested his leg, nodded with satisfaction, and hefted his tachi.
At the other end of the room, Fyn was beyond the noose of the guards’ trap and had reached Janak’s chair. He raised his flanged maces, preparing to strike, and Janak lifted the dark rod, pointing it at Fyn with a roar. The avatar froze in his tracks.
‘No!’ Annev shouted, his attention torn between Fyn’s struggle with Janak and the approaching guards. The soldiers stayed just out of range, levelling their spears, and Annev and Kenton pressed their backs together to face them.
‘This doesn’t look good …’ Kenton muttered, his tachi raised in front of him.
Across the room, Fyn’s arms shook as he struggled against the full strength of Janak’s Rod of Compulsion. Gradually, the boy’s arms fell back to his sides.
The guards surrounding Kenton and Annev tightened their circle. One soldier made a tentative stab at Annev’s chest and he flashed Mercy, slicing the head off the spear. Their defences tested, the other guards nodded to one another, pulling back their weapons for a coordinated group attack.
Fyn yelled, jerking his maces back into the air as the ring of guards around Annev and Kenton stepped forward, striking to skewer the boys. Annev saw a flash of panic shoot across Janak’s face as Fyn’s maces crashed down on both sides of the chair, shattering the engraved lapis stones at the centre of each wheel.
Janak screamed.
A wave of destruction took the room in a thunderclap of pent-up magic. It threw Fyn head over heels away from the merchant. Trinkets and treasures were scattered across the floor, pedestals toppled, and easels snapped in half. The guards were knocked off their feet mid-strike, while Kenton and Annev, leaning against each other, staggered and fought to steady themselves, ears ringing. The force of the explosion drove furniture screeching across the floor towards the back of the room, leaving a curious half-circle of devastation surrounding Janak’s wheelchair.