That was all the opportunity Fyn needed. With renewed determination, the injured avatar stumbled faster towards his target, steadying himself on fallen furniture and avoiding the fire that was beginning to spread around the room. Janak had finally reached his toppled desk and was searching through its scattered contents.
Duvarek tried to untangle himself from Kenton’s collar and chain, but his gauntlets lacked the dexterity required. For a few precious seconds, the enthralled master forgot his mission to kill Fyn and instead sought to break the chains that bound him: he tried to wedge Mercy’s tip into their grey links but failed; he hacked at them with the same strength he’d used to break Kenton’s tachi, and failed again; finally, he grasped the shortsword with both hands and tried to slip its blade between the iron collar and the bronze gorget protecting his neck.
‘Annev! Slow him down.’
Kenton threw a rust-spotted manacle at him, its dangling chain still connected to Duvarek’s collar. Annev caught it, felt the tingle of its magic, and instinctively knew that, like most of the items in Janak’s study, it was an artifact of modest power. He saw Kenton handcuff the other manacle to a dead guardsman.
Flaming brilliant.
Annev looked around the room and spied another body less than a dozen paces away. He moved towards it, hoping to anchor Duvarek with the weight of a second corpse, but then the chain and its fetter flew from his grasp, yanked sharply away by Duvarek’s strong hands: the warrior had realised their plan and the compulsion would not allow him to be detained. Duvarek dropped Mercy, gripped Kenton’s half of the chain with both hands, and pulled the cuffed guardsman towards him. Kenton leapt atop the corpse and forced a grisly tug of war, doing everything he could to buy Fyn the precious seconds he needed.
Annev turned to gauge the other boy’s progress and saw Janak had pulled a blue bottle from the wreckage of his desk. With a shout of elation, he uncorked the vial and downed its contents, shuddering as he did so. Fyn reached him moments later and snatched the Rod of Compulsion from Lord Harth’s feverish grip.
Annev took a step back, hoping for a change to come over Duvarek, but the Master of Shadows still moved as if he were compelled: he reclaimed Mercy and stalked towards Kenton, intent on removing the obstacles between him and his mission.
Annev swore, seeing the danger his unarmed companion was now in. He dashed to support Kenton, chancing one final glance at Fyn, which made him stumble in surprise. Having drunk from the rune-inscribed bottle, the merchant’s sun-browned skin had faded into an inky metallic grey, the same colour as dull steel.
‘You can’t kill me!’ Janak laughed. ‘Cruithear protects me!’
Fyn stared at the crippled merchant, confused by what he was seeing. Using his mace, he tapped the dome of Janak’s bald head and was surprised by the scrape and clang of metal on metal.
Janak laughed again. ‘You see! I am—’
Fyn raised his mace and swung, crashing its armour-piercing blades into Janak’s face. The merchant cried out as sparks flew, and when Fyn lifted his weapon, it was to reveal a modest dent and two small holes in the man’s forehead.
‘Gods,’ Annev breathed.
Janak cried out again, clutching the injury, but he was laughing, too. ‘Haha. You think – arrgh – that you can hurt me?’ He was groaning, clearly in pain, yet he forced himself to smile. ‘Cruithear strengthens me! He has taken Keos’s power and shares it with me.’
‘Help!’
Annev had forgotten Kenton amidst Janak’s madness. He sprinted for Duvarek as the man reached the cuffed corpse. With one hand gripping the chain that bound him to the dead man’s manacled arm, Duvarek raised Mercy and swung.
Kenton rolled away, abandoning the dead guard as the shortsword crashed into the dead man’s arm. Instead of severing the limb, though, Mercy’s blunted edge bruised the skin and splintered the bone beneath. Duvarek hacked again, undeterred by the inefficacy of his weapon. Meanwhile Fyn continued to slam his flanged mace into Janak’s metal face. CLANG. CLONG. CRASH.
Duvarek finally chopped through the dead guard’s fractured arm, scooped up the manacle chained to his collar, and returned his attention to Fyn.
‘Kill them all, Duvarek!’ Janak frothed, his face a ruin of crumpled metal. ‘KILL THEM—’
CLANG! CLANG! CLONK!
Janak went silent and Duvarek swayed on his feet, then swung his visored helm from side to side, seeming to take stock of his surroundings.
‘Dove?’ Kenton said, daring to hope. ‘Are you in there?’
The man in the bronze suit looked down, weighing the iron chains in his left hand and the shortsword in his right. When he looked up, his visored face pointed directly at the Master of Sorrows.
‘You will all die.’
Duvarek leapt at Annev, shortsword raised for a piercing blow. Instead of dodging or rolling away, Annev swung with all his strength, his axe smashing into Mercy and sending both weapons skittering across the floor. The Master of Shadows landed atop Annev, knocking him to the ground, then began wrapping his iron chains around the boy’s neck. Annev fumbled for leverage and came up with the guard’s severed limb. Desperate for an advantage, he slid the macabre lever into Duvarek’s knot of chains, wincing as the man pulled tight and tried to strangle him.
Kenton appeared above Annev’s head with Mercy clutched in both hands, but then looked between Duvarek and Annev, hesitating.
‘Visor …’ Annev choked, struggling to keep the cold metal links from crushing his windpipe. It was a slim chance – Annev could see no way to lift the man’s faceplate, let alone remove the magically sealed helm, and the great helm’s slotted visor had proved impervious to Kenton’s tachi – its gaps were too small for even a dagger to enter.
But not too small for air …
Kenton smashed the tip of Annev’s shortsword into the warrior’s slotted visor as Annev stopped fighting the chains that were choking him and slapped both palms atop Mercy’s fuller. In that same instant, he called upon the blade’s magic, willing its edge to form a thin sliver of sharpened air, hoping his need was great enough for the magic to manifest.
Kenton gasped as the shortsword caught on the slits of the great helm, and there was a sickening crunch, wet and piercing, from inside. Duvarek released the chains wrapped around Annev’s neck and clawed at his visor with gauntleted fingers before he slid off Annev’s sword and collapsed to the floor. Annev gasped as the loosened chains pulled tight again, then relaxed when they did not throttle him further. Beside him, the bronze warrior twitched, convulsing as his head slapped the ground. After a final thrash of movement, Duvarek’s body lay still.
Annev’s heart was pounding. He looked up at Kenton and saw the avatar staring wide-eyed at the dead man in the bronze suit. The boy looked in horror at the instrument of death held in his hands and at Annev touching Mercy’s exposed blade. He let go of the hilt, leaving the artifact to Annev, and stepped away from the man he’d just killed.
Annev set the weapon aside, extricated himself from the chains that bound him, and sheathed Mercy. He nodded at Kenton.