Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (106 page)

Instead of free-falling, Nedwin was now swinging toward the tower. The balcony projected far enough that he had some upswing before reaching the wall. Nedwin extended his legs to absorb the impact. It felt like he had jumped off a roof but had landed well. As he swung back away from the wall, he was already climbing.

The grappling hook had a good grip. He had kept hold of the rope. He had not fallen and splattered against the paving stones of the courtyard more than fifty feet below. Now it was a race.

Hand over hand he ascended—long smooth pulls. For his height he was not a heavy man, and his gangly arms had more strength in them than some might expect. Few men could climb a rope faster. But would he reach the top fast enough?

Nedwin heard the door to the balcony open. He could not panic. He was almost there. Hurried footsteps approached the end of the balcony. The guard had clearly seen the grapnel and was rushing to investigate. He had not called out a warning. Nedwin had five more feet to go. From the sound of the footsteps, the guard would reach the grappling hook just before Nedwin reached the top. If the guard kicked the grapnel, Nedwin would die. If the guard looked over the edge, he might have a chance.

When the guard looked over the edge, Nedwin reached up, grasped him by the collar, and yanked with everything he had. The unprepared guardsman came over the railing and plunged headfirst to the courtyard. He did not cry out, but he landed loudly. The dogs barked with renewed vigor.

With a small crossbow ready, Nedwin climbed over the balustrade. The door stood open. He heard another man coming. The instant the guard appeared, he received a quarrel in his heart from ten feet away. Nedwin closed the distance and covered the man’s mouth as he slumped into oblivion.

His next crossbow ready, Nedwin entered the room. No other guards presented themselves. He knew the layout and quickly confirmed that no other soldiers were stationed on this floor of the apartment. He listened. There would be guards outside the main door to this room. There would probably be a guard or two immediately outside of Copernum’s bedroom door. In spite of this, Nedwin heard nobody responding.

He had to hurry. If anyone tried to check in with the guards he had eliminated, his cover would be blown. He raced to the fireplace, where embers glowed at the hearts of charred logs.

The chimney extended down to other levels, but layers of iron bars had been inserted below this point to forbid access. The last time Nedwin had checked, no bars prevented upward access from here. This floor was part of the royal residence.

Ducking into the warm fireplace, Nedwin climbed. Copernum had once sent an assassin to kill Jason. The assassin had accessed his room through the fireplace. Nedwin could not help smiling as he reached the royal bedchamber.

Copernum was asleep. Nedwin could hear him breathing. Listening intently, he detected nobody else in the room. Avoiding embers, Nedwin crept silently from the enormous fireplace.

Alarms would sound when the dead guard was discovered in the courtyard. The yowling dogs could summon alert eyes to the scene at any moment. A million other factors could lead to the discovery of his intrusion. He did not have much time.

On light feet, by the faint glow from the fireplace, Nedwin crossed to the bed. His hair mussed, Copernum slept with his mouth open. His neck looked scrawny. A strong blow from the short sword might cut all the way through.

Copernum had personally tortured Nedwin throughout the final years of his incarceration. The chancellor had experimented with nervesong much more than any of the other torturers, lifting Nedwin to excruciating plateaus of agony. Nedwin frequently relived those experiences in his nightmares. Last night, in fact, Copernum had supervised the festivities.

Nedwin had dreamed of giving Copernum a dose of nervesong. He carried some in one of the vials around his neck. He had fantasized about letting his tormentor sample the anguish he had administered so liberally.

But tonight was not about vengeance. Tonight was about justice. Any extra time he took might get him caught. Nedwin did not belong to himself. He belonged to Galloran.

Nedwin did not need Copernum to know who was dealing the death blow. Nedwin did not need to see the recognition and terror in his eyes. It was enough to anonymously bring the traitor to justice. One swift stroke. A more merciful death than Copernum deserved. But it would suffice.

Nedwin drew the sword. It rasped faintly while escaping from the sheath. Copernum mumbled and shifted slightly. Nedwin raised the weapon high and brought it down hard.

The sharp blade sliced through the scrawny neck. Nedwin did not pause to relish the success. It was simply a mission accomplished.
He moved away from the bed, back toward the fireplace. But then he paused.

The sword was sharp and heavy. Almost a cleaver. And Copernum had a skinny neck. But the neck had bones and muscle and tendons. The blade had cut through too cleanly. And why had there been no blood?

When Nedwin turned back, the body was leaning over the far side of the bed. There was still no blood. The severed head remained on the pillow, glaring at him. It was not an expression that had frozen on the face at the moment of the execution. The traitor was clearly still alive.

Copernum was a displacer! No wonder the head had separated so neatly! The knowledge stunned Nedwin. The secret had been kept perfectly. Yet there was the proof, a decapitated head that clearly remained alert.

Raising his short sword again, Nedwin charged the bed. The headless body turned, lunged, and plunged a sword into him. Nedwin staggered back, falling to the floor. Copernum must have kept the sword by his bedside. There was no mistaking that the wound was fatal. It didn’t hurt, but he was going to die.

The body reclaimed the head, and Copernum came to stand over him, his eyes narrow. “That was very foolish, Nedwin.” He rubbed his neck. “You could have injured me. Fortunately, I have a few secrets. It will take a better man than you to claim my life. Revenge is an ugly business, Nedwin, as you are aptly demonstrating.”

“Justice,” Nedwin managed. At any moment he would pass out. He clung to his awareness.

“Justice, you say? Yes, you learned much about the emperor’s justice at my hands. I would love to give you another taste of justice. Or why just a taste, when we could have a feast? We used to have such times, the two of us.”

Hands trembling, Nedwin produced a vial from around his neck. He swiftly uncapped it, raised it to his lips, and upended it, swallowing the contents.

“No need to poison yourself,” Copernum chuckled. “You have escaped me. Your wound is plainly lethal. This time death will have to be justice enough. It would have been more entertaining to take you alive, but I can still make an example of you.”

Nedwin tried to reply, but his voice would not cooperate. There was still no pain, but his vision was dimming, and he could hardly breathe. Copernum continued to talk, the words unintelligible, like a low conversation heard through a thick door. An irrelevant conversation, Nedwin realized. He had failed. He closed his eyes. No! What if he got up? What if he found the strength to pull the sword from his body? What if he used it to strike down the traitor? Maybe Copernum would finally stop talking. The man had always talked too much, especially during torture.

Nedwin tried to sit up. He could not even raise his head! He tried to swallow, but his throat was not working. He could not open his eyes. He seemed disconnected from his body. Where was he? Oh, yes. The royal bedchamber. He had failed. He was dying. So this was what it felt like. He wondered what would come next. While Copernum droned on, he painlessly slipped away.

CHAPTER
30

T
he castle was finally silent. Nedwin had waited long into the night, prowling the hidden passageways, listening to feet walking, armor jangling, clothes rustling, fire crackling, doors closing, locks clicking, liquid pouring, utensils clinking, lips smacking, and furniture creaking. He had caught fragments of hushed conversation and heard muffled giggles. He had listened to a woman humming an infant to sleep. But eventually the fires had burned low and stopped snapping, the quietest discussions had ceased, and people had quit haunting the corridors.

There would be guards posted at certain doors, and many sentries out walking the walls, but the halls of the castle were as deserted as they would ever get. Soft snores and skittering mice were the loudest exceptions to the silence. In another hour the kitchens would revive as bakers got an early start on fresh bread, but until then the castle belonged to whoever could furtively claim it.

The target he had chosen for tonight was not a matter of vengeance. After weighing his options for days, Nedwin had concluded that his decision to pay Copernum a visit was not driven
by personal prejudice. It was an important step toward reclaiming Trensicourt. It was a matter of justice.

Galloran had treated Copernum with leniency. And how had Copernum repaid the undeserved mercy? With treason. He had stolen the kingdom while his king was away. He had murdered good men in the night. He had openly claimed Trensicourt for the emperor.

Copernum had not even tried to conceal his crime. By announcing it publicly, in essence he had confessed to high treason. The punishment for treason was execution.

Despite his many unsavory characteristics, Copernum was an excellent strategist. While he survived, Trensicourt would be much more difficult to reclaim. The usurpers already lacked their giants. Without Copernum’s leadership, the false government would be significantly more vulnerable.

It would not be easy to reach him. Copernum had abandoned his former rooms and claimed the royal residence as his own. Nedwin knew of no secret ways into the royal tower. If Galloran were familiar with any, he had kept the knowledge to himself. In the interest of making the tower secure, it was possible that no such passages existed.

But long ago Nedwin had noticed a single vulnerability. A certain balcony was theoretically accessible from a particular window across the way. Nedwin had never been able to avoid noticing such things. Taking advantage of the vulnerability would require skill, and a little luck. Nedwin felt sure he could do it.

There was another option, much less subtle. Nedwin knew where to find the stash of twelve orantium globes. With liberal use of the spheres he could probably blast his way through doors and guards quickly enough to reach Copernum. But Nedwin knew
that if he entered with orantium, he would never escape. The commotion would rouse too many guards.

Nedwin wanted to survive. There would be many other targets besides the giants and Copernum. The deceitful chancellor had started a dishonorable war, a sneaky war, the kind of war without banners or trumpets, a quiet war waged in the darkest hours of the night, and Nedwin was uniquely suited to this form of combat.

Galloran would not want him to throw his life away. How could Nedwin keep serving the king and his causes if he let the guards cut him down? The other men still loyal to Galloran needed his leadership and expertise. He would enter quietly, claim Copernum, and escape to fight another day.

The castle remained still. The hour to act had come.

Nedwin passed into an empty room through a hidden panel. He wore moccasins and quiet black clothes. Stealth was his armor. He wore a short sword nearly broad enough to pass as a cleaver. The heavy blade would serve well for tonight’s errand.

Listening carefully, Nedwin hurried down a hall and then climbed a winding stair. He reached the desired door, a monstrosity of wood and iron. With slender tools he coaxed the lock. The resultant click boomed like a gong to his ears. He held still, senses straining. The sleeper within breathed evenly.

After putting the tools away, Nedwin produced a handkerchief. Among the vials around his neck he found the desired solution, and he dampened the cloth. He eased the door open and strode to the bed. A stocky man in his fifties lay on his side. He had bushy eyebrows and black hair poking from his ear.

Nedwin firmly placed the handkerchief over the sleeper’s nose and mouth. The man gasped, shuddered, and fell still, his breathing slower than before. His eyelids had squeezed but never opened. He would not wake until late in the afternoon.