Orgull swore and hefted his axe, moving to meet the newcomers. ‘Take the boy!’ he yelled without looking back.
Maquin looked at the scene, between Orgull and the crying boy who was shaking Eboric, the huntsman’s head lolling.
‘What do we do?’ Tahir asked.
We swore to protect the boy, but we swore an oath to each other, as well, as Gadrai. He looked at Orgull, swinging his axe, then punching the iron-capped butt into someone’s face. Men were crammed in the corridor, for the moment holding back in the face of Orgull’s ferocity, but the corridor was high and wide, built by giants. Even the bulk of Orgull could not fill it. Once his attackers gained their courage he would be flanked and overwhelmed. He won’t be able to hold them long enough.
‘Tahir, take the boy, get the hell out of here. We’ll buy you some time.’ He gripped Tahir’s arm, saw the indecision in the young man’s eyes. ‘One of us must live,’ he hissed. ‘We are the last of the Gadrai. And we swore to protect the boy. Stay and you make us oathbreakers.’ Tahir stood a heartbeat longer, then nodded curtly, tears filling his eyes.
‘I’ll see you again, on this side or the other,’ he said.
‘I’m not dead yet,’ Maquin said. Tahir took the boy and ran; Maquin slammed the door shut. He turned and yelled as he swung his sword, stepping into line beside Orgull. ‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ breathed Orgull, glancing at Maquin as he swung his axe, severing an extended arm just below the elbow.
‘I’m too old for all this running,’ Maquin said. He lifted his shield high and stabbed a warrior in the gut, one of Jael’s from the way he was dressed. I’m going to die here, Maquin thought as he blocked and stabbed. The thought did not scare him. The thought of failing Kastell hurt far more. At least Tahir has taken Gerda’s boy. That is one oath I have kept, unto death. He smiled grimly. Come then, Death, take me across your bridge of swords, but know this: I won’t be coming alone.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
LYKOS
‘Gerda, where is your son?’
Gerda was tied to a chair, rope burns on her wrists and ankles where she had struggled. Blood speckled her face and one eye was mottled and bruised. It appeared that Jael was not one to spare the rod during questioning. Lykos looked on approvingly.
They were in the feast-hall, corpses strewn about and the stink of death thick in the air. Lykos and his Vin Thalun had used grapple-hooks to scale a high unguarded tower in the fortress. What little resistance they’d met had been surprised and cut down without even slowing them. They had swept into the great hall as Jael had been assaulting the gates, the following slaughter quick and fierce. Gerda had been discovered leading a counter-attack in the corridors. When Lykos arrived the fighting had been furious, her shieldmen savage in their defence of her. And she had not been shy with her blade, either. He might have admired her as a warrior, but for the fact she was a woman. Still, they had been outnumbered, attacked from two sides. It had not taken long.
‘Where is he?’ Jael demanded.
‘Far from your reach,’ Gerda said through swelling lips.
‘Where?’ Jael repeated.
‘I don’t know.’ Gerda’s head lolled, her eyes flickering. Jael slapped her hard with the back of his hand.
‘You’ll not leave us yet,’ he said, then nodded to a man at his side. ‘This is Dag. He is my huntsman, a skilled tracker. He also has other skills, such as how to skin an animal. Usually this skill is reserved for the dead, for good reason. Apparently the pain is unbearable, like nothing else this side of death. He is going to skin you. Going to peel the skin from your fat body, piece by bloated piece, until I have an answer. It will take some time, I should imagine.’ Laughter rippled the room.
Dag stepped forward, a tiny knife in his hand. A warrior clamped Gerda’s wrist, her eyes bulging with fear.
‘First the nails have to come off,’ Dag said as he bent over Gerda. Lykos felt the urge to look away, but resisted. Gerda screamed, a trail of sobs and spluttered half-words between each crescendo of pain.
‘Then the skin is cut, just a little,’ Dag said over Gerda’s ragged breaths.
Footsteps from beyond the feast-hall clattered, and a warrior hurried to Jael’s side.
‘We have encountered strong resistance, my lord,’ the warrior said as he bowed.
Jael waved a hand. ‘Take more men and crush it.’
‘It, it is not so easy,’ the man said, looking uncomfortable.
‘How many,’ Jael snapped, eyes still on Gerda.
‘Two, my lord.’ That got his attention. ‘They have barricaded the corridor.’
‘With what?’
‘Our dead. It is hard to explain, but I do not think it will be easy to finish them.’
‘Where are they?’
‘In the cellars, my lord.’
Gerda’s head snapped up at that, noticed by Lykos as well as Jael.