To Rouse Leviathan, page 12
Malissa glided back to the bed and sat near the headboard. She leaned against the carved wood and arranged her robe so that one white leg remained exposed. She also loosened the neckline just enough. The Hedonae dropped a hand possessively to Tomas’ head, stroking his hair without looking at him. Tomas closed his eyes and tried to control his reaction to her fondling. He sensed something important was about to happen and he desperately wanted a clear mind.
Across the darkened room, massive wooden doors swung open. A large woman, rather plain-featured, strode confidently into the room. Clad in a uniform of white and gold, the woman brushed her calloused hand across her empty scabbard in annoyance. She stopped just inside the chamber, her trained eyes taking in the two figures on the bed, the fireplaces at either end of the room, the sunken bath near the far hearth, the rugs and furs carpeting the stone floor, the obscene tapestries on the walls, the shuttered windows, entrances and exits, possible weapons, and the guardian felines. She had never seen this chamber before and had no desire to do so now. She knew only too well what happened in this cursed tomb. With a wary glance at the growling cats, she turned her attention to Malissa, with distaste plain on her face. “You dare to summon the Captain of the Ambassador’s bodyguard in the middle of the night?” the newcomer challenged.
Malissa smiled. “We both know why you came, Danae.”
Some of the Captain’s composure drained away. Her suspicions aroused further, she surveyed the chamber a second time. The dim light hid the features of Malissa’s companion in the bed, but Danae dismissed him as a dead man anyway. “You knew my brother’s name. No one else in Saxhaven even knows I have a brother. What are you up to, witch?” Danae asked.
“No one in Saxhaven?” Malissa asked. “Not even Antony, your precious Ambassador?”
Danae clenched her fists. “No,” she admitted reluctantly. “He hires and trains only those without close family. Usually he selects orphans.”
“And so you lied to Antony, when you came to him?” the Hedonae pressed.
“How many are willing to train women to arms? I had no desire to remain on the farm, to dig in the dirt all of my life, and bear sons for some brute who regards me no better than his oxen,” Danae said fiercely.
At the first sound of the Captain’s voice, Tomas’ eyes flew open. He burrowed deeper under the covers, wishing he had the will to pull away from the Hedonae’s touch. But her stroking fingers held him like alabaster chains. Now he realized he had doomed not only himself. Malissa’s fingers tightened in Tomas’ hair and raised his head from the pillow. The firelight played on his haggard features. Unwilling to face Danae, Tomas closed his eyes. “Don’t you recognize my newest plaything?” Malissa asked.
Danae cautiously advanced a few paces and peered at the dim figure on the bed. Then she stopped and her hand clutched at the empty scabbard again. The cats snapped to their feet and their growls rose in pitch. Her eyes wide in grief and horror, the Captain ignored everything but the man at Malissa’s side. “Tomas,” Danae groaned. “Oh Tomas, what have I done?”
Tomas pulled away and crawled to the far side of the bed, as his shame overcame the Hedonae’s spell for a moment. Malissa folded her hands on her lap.
“How did you find out?” the Captain asked quietly.
“Men share their deepest secrets with me. They want to please me. It was only a matter of time before I found him. Tomas was honored, and obligated, to accept a summons from Llorgau himself. How often does a simple farm boy rise to the notice of the Sagamore of Saxhaven? Once here, I granted him audience, and he was most . . . willing.” Malissa turned to the huddled Tomas. “Weren’t you, my husky treat?”
“I’m so sorry, Danae. I couldn’t . . . can’t help myself,” Tomas said, his voice muffled by the covers he clenched to his face.
“No man can, brother. It’s not your fault,” Danae said, her voice dead with despair. “This is my doing.”
“Yes it is, Captain of the Ambassador’s bodyguard,” Malissa said as her dark gaze returned to the other woman. “And only you can set this right. Only you can save your brother now.”
Danae advanced another step and the cats crouched, ready to spring. “You seek a traitor, to betray Antony. Well, keep looking witch. Antony is the only man who ever treated me with decency and respect.”
“Tomas!” Malissa said, a deep, powerful note of command in her voice.
Without thinking, Tomas crawled back to the Hedonae’s side. His glazed eyes looked right through his sister. Malissa seized his long hair and drew his head into her lap. The pale woman slid her palm down his naked back as she spread her poison. Danae’s brother shuddered in ecstasy, his eyes drifting closed. A fresh wave of the Hedonae’s scent swept the room and Danae could only imagine what that narcotic aroma was doing to her brother. “You have no choice, Captain. You know what I will do to him,” Malissa purred with silken malice.
There was a moment of tense silence as the Captain’s internal struggle played across her face. She considered attacking the Hedonae, but without weapons the vicious cats would pull her down, and Tomas would be dead anyway. Her brother was the only family she had left. The mountain-dwelling Targ had killed the rest in a raid on her village. She hoped Antony could somehow save himself from her weakness and treachery. “What do you want?” Danae finally asked.
Malissa shoved Tomas aside like a broken toy and stood. She folded her arms and regarded the Captain. “The Ambassador’s secrets. All of them.”
Danae smiled faintly. “No one knows all of his secrets. He is a diabolically clever man.”
The Hedonae lanced an ivory finger at the man on the bed. “Don’t annoy me, woman. I will suck him dry and have his withered corpse tossed on your doorstep,” Malissa hissed, her outstretched arm suddenly quivering with rage.
“I will tell you what I know,” the Captain said, and then bared her teeth in a snarl. “But only in exchange for my brother’s life and freedom. If you kill him or try to keep him here, I will never rest until your dead body lies at my feet.”
Malissa turned her back on the other woman. She walked slowly to an overstuffed armchair and settled herself in it. She calmly returned Danae’s hate-filled glare. “Save your empty threats for those you have the power to harm. I am beyond you,” Malissa said coldly. “Now speak, before I grow bored and kill your brother anyway.”
**
For a long time after the Captain left Malissa’s bedchamber, the Hedonae sat in her chair, thinking, a smile of victory playing about her wickedly sensual lips. The cats curled on either side of the chair with their keen eyes on their mistress. Deep in exhausted slumber, Tomas lay where she had left him. Malissa glanced at a shuttered window and grimaced at the hint of dawn’s light trying to invade her dark domain. Anise had never properly repaired that window, after Morgan had shattered it so long ago. She would punish the wretched servant with a penalty both delicious and cruel. The thought of Morgan stirred the Hedonae and raised unusual feelings of longing and remorse. There had been something familiar about him, about the untapped life energies that surged in his powerful body, some ancient bond between them, something she had not felt in centuries. Malissa had been exiled to a land of fragile phantoms who could never satisfy her constant cravings. But Morgan was different. No, she was deceiving herself. By all accounts the breed he resembled had exterminated itself in madness and savagery, after being abandoned by their creators. Of the Hedonae, only Malissa remained, left behind when the others were taken away.
Malissa shook off the ghosts of the distant past and returned to the bed. The cats watched her every move. She sat beside the sleeping Tomas and, almost gently, laid her hand on his head. “Your sister loves you enough to betray everything she believes in,” Malissa said. “What is it like to be loved like that?”
At Malissa’s touch and the sound of her voice, Tomas roused. He gazed at the Hedonae for a moment then looked away. A tear rolled from the corner of his eye. Malissa caught it with a fingertip and stared solemnly at the moisture. “Tears,” she murmured distantly. “I shed my last tears a long, long time ago. I wept for two entire races, bound hopelessly together and then ripped apart.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Seige
From his vantage point on the mountainside, Kreeg lowered a tube from his eye. The distance lens brought the battle close enough for him to see important details. With the afterimage of a fireball etched into his vision, Kreeg turned to the Harrier next to him. “Sergeant Kale, bring Arost to me,” he ordered. “And assemble the other Captains.”
As the sergeant ran to obey, Kreeg lifted the glass again. Billowing smoke and flame obscured the roof of the keep. Gargoyles with grappling hooks and ropes flapped toward the turret. He directed the device at the main gate. A cluster of Immortals crowded there with shields interlocked above their heads. From time to time the rear of the mass parted, as dead and wounded soldiers were carried from the keep. Harriers now entered the castle, to replace the Immortals inside. As he watched, the shield-wall opened again to reveal a group of soldiers struggling under the weight of a dead troll. With an oath, Kreeg jerked the glass from his eye. Kale returned with Captain Arost and five other Harrier Captains. Kreeg faced them. Arost looked nervous, yet subtly defiant. Kreeg studied him for a moment, controlling his anger. “Captain Arost, I placed you in charge of the gargoyle Swarm,” the Commander said.
“Yes, Commander,” Arost said.
“And I ordered the Raav Maximilian taken alive,” Kreeg continued.
Arost could see where this was going. “Yes, Commander.”
“So how did you proceed?” Kreeg asked with forced patience.
Arost took a deep breath. “My goal was to secure the roof of the keep and then send soldiers to the roof,” he said. “I intended to trap the defenders between two hostile forces.”
“As I ordered,” Kreeg interrupted.
“Yes, Commander, as you ordered,” Arost agreed.
“Continue,” Kreeg said.
“The Raav and two Ha’ashtari savages held the turret. They blocked access to the rooftop and fired arrows at our troops. Then they destroyed the first shield formation with some kind of acid. I could not let that happen again. So I ordered a mass attack, which drove the defenders back under the cliff. But the gargoyles failed to dislodge them from their position. Therefore, I ordered a withdrawal and set a trap. When the Swarm’s departure lured the Raav out again, I had the gargoyles sweep the roof with snag hooks. I gave them strict orders to target only the two Ha’ashtari. They succeeded in removing one of the Ha’ashtari, but the Raav drove the rest of the gargoyles away. It was then that I decided more extreme measures were necessary,” Arost explained.
“You ordered the Swarm to use a naphtha bomb?” Kreeg asked, his voice tight.
Arost met the Commander’s gaze for a moment, and then looked down. “Yes, Commander.”
“And risked incinerating every living thing on the rooftop, including the Raav?” Kreeg asked.
“I assumed the Raav would retreat into the keep when he saw the bomb, and the fire would clear the roof,” Arost said.
“And did he?” Kreeg pressed.
Arost spread his hands. “The smoke blocked my view, and you summoned me before it cleared.”
“As you know, gargoyles have limited intelligence, somewhere between a dog and a third-generation Immortal. Their leaders must be smarter,” Kreeg said. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Arost became visibly angry. His face flushed, but he kept his eyes down. “Yes, Commander,” he grated.
A savage cry drifted from the besieged fortress, penetrating the sounds of battle. Kreeg raised his glass and scanned the rooftop. The only living thing on the roof was a Ha’ashtari with knives raised to the sky in defiance. A few gargoyles hovered there, unwilling to approach the wailing figure. Kreeg turned to Arost, who glanced up. When he saw the Commander’s face, Arost grimaced.
“It appears the Raav did not survive. Whether he perished in the flames of your haste, or was killed by the Swarm under your command does not matter,” Kreeg said. “But the Ha’ashtari lives. Perhaps the Mhoul will be content with an ignorant savage instead of the Raav.”
“It’s not my fault!” Arost shouted. “You can’t blame his death on me.” Arost’s anger broke through his control. He stepped back, his hand twitching by his sword hilt. Kreeg watched him impassively. Sergeant Kale tensed, his eyes fixed on the Captain.
“I was Commander Torla’s favorite. When Ssardon had him killed, I should have taken his place. But no, the goblin picked you. You don’t deserve Torla’s position and now you’re trying to dishonor your most dangerous rival,” Arost said. He looked around at Kale and the other Captains. “Can’t you see what he’s doing? We have to stop him.” The Harriers glanced at each other, but did not respond. None of them seemed inclined to support their comrade. “Look at him,” Arost cried. “He’s not worthy to command Krang Fere Harriers, the finest of the Mhoul soldiers. He’s a coward and dresses like a cattle herder.”
Kreeg’s face hardened. “Arost, are you challenging me?” he asked, his harsh voice cutting through the Captain’s outburst.
Arost turned to face the Commander, his hand finally settling on his rapier. Arost yanked the blade free and drew his smallsword. “Yes, Kreeg. I challenge you!”
What followed was more of an execution than a duel. Kreeg’s rapier flashed from its sheath and, before Arost could parry, the Commander’s sword laid his throat open. With a look of complete surprise, the Captain sank to his knees. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. As his lifeblood poured down his breastplate, Arost’s weapons fell from his hands and he collapsed on his face in the dirt. The other officers stood waiting before the Commander, their faces grim. Several regarded the Commander with new respect and a little fear.
Kreeg spoke. “I’m not like Torla. I have no interest in scheming and deception, just to gain power. I’m a simple soldier. Arost started this, and I finished it. He had only himself to blame. Any questions?”
“No, Sir!” the five Captains responded in unison.
“I’m promoting Sergeant Kale to Captain in Arost’s place,” Kreeg said. “Take the body and give him a proper burial. Dismissed.”
The Captains saluted. Two of them dragged Arost’s corpse away. Kreeg motioned for Kale to remain.
“I hate this,” Kreeg said softly, his eyes on the departing Harriers.
“It had to be done,” Kale replied. “It was you or him.”
“I’ll speak with Ssardon,” the Commander said. “This has gone on long enough. We’re losing too many soldiers for no good reason.”
Captain Kale saluted as Kreeg walked down the mountainside. Kale stared after the other Harriers as he contemplated the former Captain’s fate.
**
The Harriers renewed the assault on the third floor while the officers held the other two trolls in reserve. Morgan had lost his spear and he fought with Lex Talionus. The others wielded spears, swords, or knives. The Harriers were at a serious disadvantage as the defenders struck at them from all sides while they tried to climb the stairs. The confines of the stairwell allowed them to advance only one at a time. Morgan’s group killed many soldiers, but not without a price. Wounds marked all of the battered and bloody defenders. Morgan limped from the troll’s mace. Lor fought with his left arm clenched against his broken ribs and a bloody froth at his lips.
An officer ordered the Harriers back, creating another break in the assault. Morgan stood gasping, as sweat streaked the blood and grime. Although the Mhoul soldiers had tried to take him alive, he had suffered several wounds in the heat of battle. White-faced, Lor propped himself against the tunnel wall. The others stretched aching limbs and caught their breaths. All too soon, heavy steps echoed in the stairwell, and the men readied themselves. A troll exploded through the trapdoor and was nearly in the room before they could stop it. The huge creature carried an axe with a blade on one side and a spike on the other. The troll attacked with the deadly weapon. The crippled Lor went down again, a welling gash in his thigh. Then the brutal axe severed Tak’s spear-shaft. Rees thrust and his spear lodged in the troll’s hip joint, but a counterstroke forced him to retreat empty-handed. The maddened troll snatched the spear from its hip and flung the weapon aside. Overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the assault, the defenders fell back and the troll gained the landing. In its wake, Harriers surged up the stairs and poured into the chamber.
Knowing that all would be lost if they did not retake the landing, Morgan charged the troll. The Princess tossed another spear to Rees, who also attacked the dun behemoth. While Lor guarded his flank, Tak pelted the emerging soldiers with head-sized rocks from the tunnel. Because a direct hit by the axe could shatter his sword, Morgan did not parry. Instead, he danced around the troll and struck through every opening he found. But Morgan’s injured leg hampered his movement so much that the monster’s armor deflected most of his thrusts. Rees also weaved around their giant adversary, stabbing repeatedly.
The Harriers turned toward Tak and Lor, who kept clear of the troll and his tormentors as they fought. Lor fell a final time and Tak retreated to the mouth of the tunnel. The Princess drew her three-bladed Ha’ashtari knives and slashed through the knot of enemy soldiers to join Tak. Rees thrust at the troll’s head as Morgan dove forward in a roll. Morgan chopped into the unarmored joint at the back of the thing’s right leg. With its tendons severed, the troll went down on one knee. The troll swung at Morgan, turning the axe to strike with the flat of the blade. Morgan could not avoid the stroke and parried with his sword. Lex Talionus snapped just above the hilt and the impact slammed Morgan to the floor.
