King of Foxes

When the last ward was smashed, the air suddenly sizzled with energy and three men materialized in the room. Pug, Magnus, and Nakor looked down at the dead mage. Nakor said, “You did better than I thought you would.”

 

 

Pug said, “Get everyone out of this room, Tal. There are things here that only we three are equipped to confront.” He looked down. “Just because this body is dead doesn’t mean the magic doesn’t linger. There may be traps still.”

 

Tal turned and ordered his soldiers out of the room.

 

Magnus nodded. “Nakor’s right. You did well.”

 

Pug said, “How goes the rest of the fight?”

 

Tal shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve received no word from Creed or Quint, but now that this…man is dead, I plan on seeing this thing ended.”

 

As he turned to leave, Pug grabbed his arm. Looking Tal in the eyes, he said, “Before you find Kaspar, remember this: you’ve been harshly used all your life, Tal, by the Conclave as well as by Kaspar. Would I have given you up to kill this enemy of mine?” He pointed to Varen’s corpse. “A hundred times over, my friend.” For a moment pain passed behind Pug’s eyes. “You would not be the first of those I cared about to die.” His hand tightened a little on Tal’s arm. “The Conclave will ask nothing more of you: from now on your life is your own to do with what you will. In any way we can we will help, with gold, land, pardons from the Isles and Roldem. Ask what you will, and if we can do it, we will.

 

 

 

“But one thing above all you must understand. You are at a crossroads, and from this moment forward who you will be is in your own hands. Decide what sort of man you wish to be…then act.”

 

Tal nodded. “Right now I have but one goal, Pug. I will find Kaspar, then after I end his life, I’ll worry about the rest of mine.”

 

Without another word, he picked up his sword and followed his mercenaries down the hall and away from the magician’s lair.

 

 

 

Tal shouted orders and swung his sword. His company had encountered a roomful of Olaskan soldiers who appeared determined to defend that part of the citadel with their lives. The room-to-room fighting was bloody and unforgiving. Tal passed few wounded, but a great many dead on both sides.

 

He had been fighting for two hours, the pain he suffered at the hands of the magician now forgotten. He had cleared half a dozen rooms since leaving the magician’s wing. Runners had come telling him the outer bailey and the lower rooms of the citadel were secured, and that men were being detailed to guard Olaskan prisoners. But the closer he got to Kaspar’s throne room, the fiercer was the defense.

 

The fighting went on for the rest of the day, and twice he had to withdraw and take water and food. His arms felt as if they had iron weights tied to them, but he kept coming back to lead his men.

 

After hours of fighting, Tal realized they had surrounded the throne room, and he quickly sent runners to ensure that the doors were secure. He motioned for a dozen men to follow him, for he knew there were other, less obvious, ways out of that room.

 

He found an entrance to the servants’ passages and almost died when he opened the door. Only his exceptional reflexes allowed him to block the sword thrust that greeted his tripping the latch.

 

“Pikes!” he shouted and men with pole-arms raced forward. They lowered their weapons and drove the defenders back down the narrow passage, and Tal and his men followed.

 

There had been half a dozen men in the passage, and they turned and fled after two were struck down by the pikes. Tal hurried after them but stopped running when he realized they had found the servants’ entrance to the throne room.

 

A peephole had been drilled in the door and covered by a simple piece of metal on a screw. It had been put there so that servants wouldn’t interrupt the Duke when he was conducting formal court.

 

Tal peered through and saw Kaspar standing in the middle of the room, directing his defenders. He was wearing his black armor and bellowing commands, looking as much like a bear at bay as the one Tal had killed protecting him those years past.

 

Tal judged he could possibly reach Kaspar before the Duke recognized he was in the room, but he couldn’t be certain. Better to wait for a few minutes and see how the assault on the three entrances went. Tal knew he could spare more soldiers than Kaspar, for by what Tal could see, he had less than a full company in the room.

 

From outside came a voice, speaking Roldemish but in a heavy accent—a Keshian commander. “Will you accept quarter?”

 

Kaspar laughed. “Never!”

 

 

 

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