Raven's Hand Page 11

  Half a dozen soldiers rode at both sides, and another dozen rode behind Killian and his father. The men and their captain were noticeably tense. They carried on as though an attack was imminent. Yet, they were riding inside the city walls—walls that were said to be impregnable.

  “Isn’t this a bit like overkill?” Killian whispered toward his father riding next to him. “We’re only delivering a sword.”

  “But not just any sword,” Radden said. “This is the sword of a king, blessed by Eliam himself.”

  “Still,” Killian observed, “We’re behind the wall.”

  “Which should tell us something,” Radden said. “Something is wrong. The soldiers know it. The queen isn’t taking any chances…”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning something must have happened that we don’t know about,” Radden said.

  Killian straightened in his saddle. His father had allowed him to ride Esmeralda today, and her anxiety was filtering through to him. She didn’t like this whole situation any more than they did, causing Killian to believe even more that trouble lay just around the corner.

  They lapsed into silence as their procession continued down Halifax Way. The boulevard had been named after one of House Rainier’s previous kings. He had been a great general of his day and had fought valiantly to hold onto control of the kingdom. At least, that’s the way it was told in Rainier and cities under House Rainier’s sovereignty. The story was markedly different when told elsewhere.

  The captain called for their group to halt. Killian and Radden stopped their horses as the soldiers came up short around them. Up ahead, another column of soldiers was approaching by way of the intersecting King’s Road. Their numbers were far greater than in Killian and Radden’s escort group. Theirs would defer until the other passed.

  An officer from among the larger group came upon a white mare to stop beside Killian’s escort captain. They conferred briefly, and then the officer rejoined his group. Killian noticed an armored carriage that appeared to be the centerpiece of the battalion’s attention.

  “We’ll join their group on the tale end,” the captain called back to them.

  Killian glanced sidelong at his father. “What’s wrong?”

  Radden’s eyes darted around to nearby buildings and homes lining the boulevard. “I don’t like this,” he said. “It’s not good stopping. This would be the perfect time for an enemy force to attack.”

  “With a battalion of soldiers marching by?” Killian asked with a little chuckle. “Who would be so foolish?”

  “Someone who knows how we think…who is counting on us believing only a great fool would dare attack now.”

  Killian swallowed hard. His father’s words caused him to reconsider the matter. Could he be right? The queen had sent an armed escort for the prince’s sword. This battalion appeared to be marching with only a single armored carriage. And who was inside that carriage that was considered to be so important as to warrant such an expenditure of manpower?

  Certainly, it couldn’t be the queen. She and the prince were supposed to be waiting to receive them and Nathan’s sword. That thought—Nathan’s sword—moved vomit up into Killian’s throat. He sighed heavily against the sudden nausea and forced the thought of giving the sword away out of his mind. Still, who could it be inside that carriage who was so important?

  Esmeralda grew impatient beneath him as the carriage passed through the intersection. The battalion marched on beside and behind—soldiers on horses with broadswords, while others walked along carrying spears. The men seemed alert, but lacked the kind of nervous energy present in their own escort.

  At last, the final soldiers passed before them on foot. The captain of Killian’s escort motioned for their group to proceed. The horses moved forward as one and joined with the battalion at the rear. Over a block away, the top of the armored carriage was barely visible among a forest of silver-tipped spears and blue and silver flags bearing the standard of House Rainier.

  Killian watched now with Radden, leaving his doubts about the wisdom of an attack behind. His father had once been a soldier. He knew the kind of tactics an enemy might use in a situation like this.

  Still, nothing happened. Other than pedestrian traffic skirting by the procession of soldiers, there was no one else around. Citizens of Rainier were naturally curious about the parade and the carriage. After all, they had seen their king and queen travel these boulevards with escorts. They liked to pause in their daily activities to watch. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

  The sky was bright blue with only a few puffy white clouds drifting overhead. The air was warm, but not enough to be uncomfortable. The scents of distant market stalls filled the air with spices and bread and pies baking. It all seemed so perfect.

  Except, the sword was vibrating through the scabbard which was attached to Killian’s saddle. It pulsed like an impatient child tugging at his mother’s skirts. All may have seemed right with the world by general appearances, but the sword blessed by Eliam apparently knew better.

  Killian swept his gaze ahead. His eyes fell suddenly upon the buildings that lined this particular area of King’s Road. These businesses were of such a height on either side as to create the appearance of a valley within the street.

  The sword vibrated with even more intensity now. Killian grabbed the hilt and drew the blade free of its scabbard. The vibrations ceased instantly as he touched it, turning instead into raw emotion that fed into his mind. A terrible feeling of dread washed over him.

  “What are you doing?” Radden asked in a harsh whisper, hoping that no one else had seen what his son was doing. “Put that away!”

  Killian turned to his father. “An attack is coming,” he whispered back.

  An earsplitting explosion shook the ground and the buildings on King’s Road a moment later. Windows shattered. Men and horses up ahead of Killian and his father were thrown into the air. The armored carriage was thrown on its side. The explosion had gone off as it passed by a certain place in the street.

  At this distance, Killian had felt only the thunderous boom. None of the flame and shrapnel that had killed many at the blast radius had touched him or his father or the soldiers around them. The citizens of Rainier in the vicinity had been killed, injured, or driven into a numbing, screaming panic.

  Dazed, Killian felt Esmeralda’s fear. She reared up in terror and bolted away from the scene. Killian grabbed hold of her neck with his free hand, trying to calm her. The sword fed its desire to fight directly into his mind. Suddenly, Killian felt a calm wash over him and through him, even into Esmeralda by way of his contact with her.

  She responded as he responded. In that moment, a connection between sword and rider and horse occurred. Eliam’s peace was upon them. Courage and purpose arose, and Killian felt Esmeralda surge forward through the soldiers.

  He released his hold on her mane and swept the reins into his hand. In the other hand, Killian held the sword at his side. Soldiers lay in the street wounded and confused. They were in no shape to fight at the moment, but this was precisely when the real attack came.

  Men rose upon the rooftops of the buildings lining the King’s Road. Bows in hand, they began to rain down arrows upon the street below and the soldiers lying nearly helpless there. Some attempted to shield themselves, but most were too dazed to realize what was happening until they were struck multiple times. Horses screamed also, as those that survived the explosion with their riders were riddled with arrows. Men and horses fell back to the ground, their weapons clattering onto the road uselessly as rivulets of blood cascaded through the joints of the paving stones.

  Killian pulled the reins hard, bending Esmeralda to his will. “You can’t go in there!” he said to her.

  She protested through noises and the transfer of emotions, but Killian refused her argument.

  “You’re too big a target, and they’ll surely try to kill you with a rider onboard,” he reasoned. “Go around and find me when the time is right!�
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  Before the mare could protest further, Killian leaped from her saddle with the sword in hand. He wrapped the scabbard strap around his shoulder and torso, grabbed up a fallen soldier’s polished steel shield, bearing the crest of House Rainier, and charged into the fray. He did not understand exactly how, but Killian knew that he must make his way to the overturned carriage. Through the sword’s influence, he felt this to be of vital importance and he must not fail.

  Shouts and screams mingled with the swish of arrows and the moans of the dying. Figures moved forward from the shadows into the street, cutting down soldiers who were trying to recover from the initial blast. Killian’s mind reeled at the realization that these warriors were, in fact, Cindermen.

  How could this be? How could they have gotten into the city without anyone knowing? It wasn’t like they were inconspicuous creatures. Their appearance was actually quite alarming—you couldn’t miss them. Killian could only assume a plot involving numerous citizens and possibly even soldiers was now unfolding in an attempt to dethrone the heir to House Rainier before he could assume power in the place of his ailing father.

  One of the beasts stabbed a pike into the body of a crawling soldier, killing the man. Killian raised the blessed blade and struck the wolf-like creature down as he passed. Their target was abundantly clear. All of the Cindermen were converging upon the overturned royal carriage.

  Smoke rolled away from the armored vehicle. Of the four white horses that had been pulling the carriage, only one still tried in vain to rise from the ground upon a bloody and broken hind leg. The other horses were still harnessed together, but none of them moved at all now.

  Killian raced through the haze and fog created by the explosion. At every opportunity, he cut down the Cindermen that he found. Even their beastly strength and cunning was no match for the power of the blade blessed by Eliam. The sword moved his arm, making its will his own by a connection Killian could recognize but hardly explain.

  By now, royal guards and soldiers had also taken up the fight against the attacking Cindermen. Men and beasts clashed in a terrible struggle, shedding blood and rending flesh. Their cries joined together in a cacophony of woe that seemed to fill every space upon the King’s Road and its surrounding buildings.

  Through all of this, Killian ran at breakneck speed, trying to reach the overturned carriage. He did not know who might be inside. He did not care. The blessed sword willed him onward.

  Another two Cindermen engaged him, one swinging a war hammer, the other brandishing a sword slicked with wet blood. The war hammer attempted to bite into the blade but was repelled. Killian ducked below the next mighty swing and hacked through the beast’s legs below the knees.

  Rolling back to his feet, he brought his sword into an overhead guard position, catching his enemy’s sword before his own blood could be added to the blade. Sticky, crimson residue spattered Killian’s face. He ignored it, kicking out against the creature’s right knee cap. A howl of pain issued from its mongrel throat as the man thing buckled toward the ground. Killian forced his sword past and cracked it across the creature’s skull, sending the beast dying to the pavement.

  He reached the carriage, bounded from its bent axle to its upturned side. The whole side had been caved in. He pulled at the handle, but the warped frame refused to release the door.

  Killian wasted no time. He whipped the blade around, striking the hinges and then pulled again. The door came free in his hand.

  An attacker appeared behind him, leaping up to the carriage wheel with a long dagger in his hand. Killian swung the armor-plated door around and bashed the lizard-like man across the face. The creature reeled backward, falling away from the carriage.

  Killian found a woman inside, wearing ornamental dress, lying stunned at the bottom of the compartment. She stirred as he called to her. It was a miracle she was alive at all.

  “Give me your hand!” he cried, reaching down to her. She stood, grabbing for his arm and clasped hold. Killian grunted with the effort, hauling her out like a fish from a pond. Smoke whirled around the carriage. He could hear men closing in and the sounds of battle. He had to hurry.

  Drawing the girl up, Killian stood and deposited her upon the side of the carriage. Her hair was very black and only a little disheveled. Her elegant dress, clearly made for attending the royal court, was another matter. The gown was torn in places and singed heavily in others.

  Then she looked up at her rescuer for the first time. Killian’s eyes locked upon her face. This was impossible. It simply could not be. Before him, sitting upon the smoldering carriage in her ruined gown with an expression of shock upon her face, was the girl of his dreams.

  Chance Meeting?

  I sat upon a velvet seat cushion inside the padded, armored carriage Evelyn had sent to meet me. Kane and I had found exactly what she had said we would. A great many soldiers were waiting for us as we approached the South Gate earlier in the day. But this was not going to be as informal a passing into the city as I had hoped. Evelyn had also sent servants with a selection of gowns.

  These servants had been previously instructed to bathe and dress me for my journey through the streets of Rainier to the palace where Evelyn and her son would be waiting to receive me. I did not have any say as to the choice of the gown. Nevertheless, it was very fine, deep blue silk accented with silver clasps and a silvery white imprint of the coat of arms for House Rainier; an eagle in flight over a sunrise. To onlookers, the dress and pattern were no doubt beautiful to behold. For me, the dress spoke of their wealth while the pattern testified to my being their property.

  I endured their process—scrubbing away the previous night of road dust and sweat and Cinderman blood. They fashioned my hair, spinning it up into an intricate pattern piled atop my head. Oils for my skin and perfumes were applied. Only a little makeup was applied, allowing the natural tones of my pale skin to stand out. I was ready.

  Under guard they bundled me into the carriage. My final farewell came from Kane. He simply tipped his hat with a devilish grin and then rode away ahead of us. Talk among the soldiers had informed me that he was scouting the route ahead between us and my new retinue of soldiers and the royal palace well beyond the wall.

  Locked inside like a freshly polished gemstone, my caravan began its movement toward the city gate. The ride was not exactly going to be comfortable, but at least Evelyn’s wagons were well padded inside all of the armor plating. There seemed to be no escape.

  Twenty minutes later, I was growing restless as we neared the palace. I peeked outside through the small barred window. I could see another group of soldiers on horseback waiting for our long procession to pass. It was hard for me to make out any details about the group. They must have been soldiers sent by Evelyn to guard me on my journey to her and her son, Prince Nathan.

  They certainly weren’t taking any chances with my safety. Of course, after what had happened to Celia and Evelyn upon the road, I couldn’t blame her for her caution. Even my secret journey on horseback with Kane had somehow been known to Judah and his Cindermen.

  With nothing new to see, I returned my gaze from the road. I sat very still in my new gown, wondering how much further it must be until we reached the palace and my future with Prince Nathan and his soon-to-be queen. Yet, I was still not resigned to this fate. I would be free of this slavery and I would find my love, Killian, somehow.

  Tears began to form in my eyes. Quickly, I removed my handkerchief and dabbed them away before my makeup became ruined. I had no desire to be punished by Evelyn again.

  I bowed my head and offered up a prayer to Eliam. My hope was that he would help me; that all was not lost. “Please help me to find Killian,” I whispered.

  An explosion erupted in the street outside the carriage. Instantly, my hearing was reduced to a constant ringing sound. Light and fire flashed through the windows. I felt the heat, but heard only the ringing and felt the world tilting.

  I could not tell if I was merely dizzy,
or if something was actually happening to my world within the carriage. Then I was thrown sideways, landing heavily against the padded sidewall to my right. Glass shattered and scattered through the air around me as smoke filled the confines of the vehicle.

  I saw nothing but wisps of flame. The ringing was incessant. I felt numb all over my body, lying helpless against the padded wall, looking up toward what was once the unmarred left side of the carriage. Now, the door and wall was partially caved in.

  I wondered what had happened, but thoughts refused to coalesce. An attack of some kind, perhaps? Visions of Cindermen came into my mind, but I was too dazed to make sense out of anything. Was this my time to die? Would I be like Celia, pulled from a ruined armored carriage to have my throat cut in the middle of the road by a Cinderman?

  As the ringing in my ears began to fade, I heard more and more the sounds of battle: swords clashing, horses screaming, and men dying. I tried unsuccessfully to lift myself from the floor of the vehicle. My dress managed to hinder my every move. Already, it was torn and marred by smoke and fire.

  I heard footsteps pounding upon the carriage above me. A hand reached into the window, fingers pulling at the bent grill, trying to open the door. Those efforts proved unsuccessful. The hand retreated and my hope drained away.

  A piercing cry of steel drew my eyes skyward again. Molten cuts scored the door frame. The hand returned, grabbing the grill and pulling again. To my surprise, it came free.

  A head in silhouette peered down at me from above. I could see that it was a younger man, but no other details. His arm shot down into the carriage after me, insisting that I do something to help him save me. I mustered my final reserve of strength and jumped to grab his proffered arm. I missed the first time and then quickly gave it a better try. Success—I had him, or rather he had me.

  The young man hauled me up, his corded muscles straining beneath his shirt sleeve and my gripping hands. He pulled me out of the carriage and deposited me quickly upon the battered edge of the door frame. My eyes adjusted to the brighter light outside. I saw his face and shock almost overwhelmed me.