Within the Hollow Crown (8 page)

Chapter 14: An Uninvited Guest at the Wedding

Michael had never written a book on how to staff a castle. Some have argued that he should have. He was particularly good at it.

Your best diplomat should be your High Lieutenant. Sounds obvious, perhaps, but most Counts didn’t follow this rule. Most appointed a close friend or a cousin that you couldn’t let down but didn’t know what else to do with. Michael chose Landos on merit, because he knew that the level-headed negotiator would be just the person to outsmart and out-charm those people who you never wanted to meet.

Always find a really good chef to be your main chef. A well-cooked meal could be the key to avoiding an international incident. And it makes people content. A good
sommelier
w
asn’t a bad idea, either.

It is important that your Castellan knows which way is South. This had been a problem in several castles in recent history. Michael took the time to test his Castellan on direction sense. He did not want to find out in the middle of a siege, as some had, that his catapults were facing the North Wing when they should have been facing the enemy force.

Make sure your Military Advisor did not rip the testicles from bothersome nobles, at least not without permission. She was allowed to think about it, and even ask frequently, just so long as she didn’t do it on her own.

Finally, when and if you can manage to find a fanatically loyal (if somewhat insane) jester as a servant, do so.

---

The events that transpired only moments after Michael and Sarah’s marriage were something as follows:

Nathaniel finished a rousing speech by announcing Michael and Sarah as husband and wife. The newlyweds released the doves and kissed, earning a resounding cheer from the crowd. A flurry of rose petals precipitated over the procession.

Michael, Sarah, and Prince Nathaniel were on the East Balcony, which was half a story above the courtyard. Just high enough to be seen from anywhere in the crowd, not so high as to seem like an arrogant ass.

Vye and the other honored guests sat along the front of the crowd, just under the balcony. Vye was stuck next to Rutherford and Lady Caroline, relieved that Caroline showed no signs of being pregnant. Behind them, crowded in tighter than a nun’s legs on a Sunday, were the commoners. Nothing like free food to assure a good turnout.

Michael stepped forward to make his speech, “Lords and Ladies, Citizens, and Guests,” he began, and then continued in some well-worded but ultimately empty expression of thanks. Vye was not paying attention. She was distracted by the smoke.

Not like a raging fire kind of smoke. Just a little wisp of smoke, rising from the ground right in front of the East Balcony. Where was the smoke coming from? Vye looked left and right, to see if anyone else had noticed, but everyone was fixated on Michael’s speech. He must have said something funny, because the crowd chuckled.

Then the smoke got wider. It became a thin veil of smoke, about the size of a door. Vye nudged the only person next to her, Lord Rutherford. Rutherford, however, was trying to clap extra loud to impress Michael. Vye turned around, looking to the back of the crowd. She wanted to find Gabriel.

Her distraction must have been noticed, because Michael stopped his speech.

“Lady Vye,” Michael said, “Am I boring you?”

There was another light chuckle from the crowd. Vye turned back to the Count, embarrassed. She blushed.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she said, “There’s just something…strange over here.”

“Well,” Michael said, more to the crowd more than Vye, “Don’t keep us in suspense. What is it?”

“It’s… Oh, Shit!!” was what Vye said.

The reason she said this was that when she looked back to the smoky doorway, there was a Turin man there, sword drawn, and charging at the crowd.

The
man was Halmir, and while his charge seemed panicked to some, Vye could tell that his movements were precise, and his footing certain. He knew what he was
doing
.

The Turin soldier came right at Lady Vye’s section, but because Lady Vye was looking fluffier than usual, he ignored her and impaled Lord Rutherford first.

And then, all hell broke loose. Calvin, the Castellan with direction sense, started barking orders. The Royal Guards pulled the Prince into the Castle before anyone could tell what was happening.

Vye reached for her sword, but ended up grabbing her own pannier. She tried to kick Halmir, but her dress was too frilly. Halmir, in the meantime, had killed four other men, each as they drew arms and attacked him.

Then, Halmir waved his hand across the entire crowd. There was a silent thud, a sort of empty popping sound, as everyone in the courtyard was stunned. Vye recoiled, her equilibrium shot to hell. She couldn’t hear a thing. And her vision blurred.

Halmir leapt up onto the East Balcony, clearing the ten-foot wall. This wasn’t a question of jumping. He made it look effortless. He knelt down and pounced, but Vye had never seen a human get that much lift.

Michael
was still up there. Damnit, Vye thought. Why did he have to be such a brave fool? Any other Count or Duke in the Kingdom would have fled in terror. But of course Michael wasn’t that kind of leader. There he was, shielding
Lady Sarah
behind him.
And, of course, that’s why Vye respected him.

Still, although Vye considered Michael a competent swordsman, she didn’t feel comfortable leaving him up there on his own. Especially not with
a Turin warrior who could appear out of a wisp of smoke, leap over walls, and stun a courtyard full of people.

But whereas the rest of the crowd kept reeling and stumb
ling, Vye found her hearing coming back to her. The sense of balance returned to her feet. She shook it off. Plenty of time to be dizzy later. She had to take action now.

Michael and Halmir were dueling it out on the balcony. Vye grabbed Rutherford’s sword, and ran to the nearest entrance. Two turns, one flight of steps, and one intervening curtain later, and she burst out onto the balcony--

--Just in time to see Michael fall to his knees. He had been impaled just under the left shoulder, somewhere very close to where Vye imagined his heart was.

Vye raised her sword and engaged Halmir. And finally she met her match.

It had been years since her training with Tallatos. She had returned with a sense of humility. Always training hard. Always prepared to lose. But after defeating Sheldon and every other combatant she had faced, she had grown confident. Not cocky, mind you. She had no concept of swagger. But she appreciated the fact that she was good.

So was Halmir. It only took Vye three swings and four seconds to figure out that he wasn’t just another arrogant swordsman. What was worse, he didn’t seem to care she was a woman. In the past, Vye always gained a little extra advantage. Fair or not, men always assumed she couldn’t fight, or didn’t want to hurt her. Halmir had no such reservations. He was fighting to kill.

Halmir figured out the same thing at about the same time. The Turin-Sen, as a group, were arrogant. They had trained so much longer, and so much more intensely, that they expected to win outright. There shouldn’t have been anyone in Rone capable of holding his own against a
Turin-Sen Warrior
.
But Halmir hadn’t belonged to the group for that long. He hadn’t drunk quite enough Kool-Aid to believe he was invincible.

They were matching stroke for stroke, block for block. Immediately recognizing patterns and counter-striking. Adjusting. Footwork, stance, technique all changing in a blur that only these two could have understood. Tallatos himself would have asked them to slow down so he could figure out what was going on.

But Halmir knew the stalemate favored Vye. The crowd hadn’t recovered as quickly as her, but they would recover. And who knows what other guards and soldiers were on their way. They could have parried each other all day, until the winner was finally decided by some minor advantage pressed at precisely the right time. But that would take too long. Halmir had to cheat.

He swung his free arm around, like he was swatting a very slow fly. And Vye went airborne, sailing backwards, and smashing into the wall. She managed to land on one foot and one knee, and keep her sword in front of her, but it was all for show. If Halmir had taken three seconds, he could have charged in, disarmed her, and killed her.

But Halmir was in a rush, and Vye wasn’t part of his agenda. He fled through the curtains and into the halls of the castle.

Vye coughed up a little blood, pressing her clammy hands against the cold stone walls, hefting herself to her feet. That was a hard hit. But as long as she still had breath, she was not giving up the fight.

She charged through the curtains, following the sounds of clashing steel to the base of the stairs. Vye figured the Royal Guard would try to get the Prince to the third floor. Because Hartstone was built on a hill, the third floor was also a ground floor. They could use the sally port to get to the reserve stables.

From the looks of it, they wouldn’t make it quite that far. Two Royal Guards were already dead. Halmir was stabbing a third one. A fourth charged at Halmir. The other half dozen Guards had dragged the Prince a whole flight ahead of the Turin soldier.

Halmir had recovered from his Shadow Door Spell enough now to use his most powerful magic. He opened his palm at the incoming Guard. From his hand, a small light shot out, with the speed of an arrow, looking like a candleless flame, striking the Guard mid-charge. The electricity danced over the Royal Soldier, crackling, smoking, burning his life force from his body. And eliciting a scream that would freeze your heart.

Vye charged in behind Halmir, hoping to catch him off guard. But he was prepared, turning to counter. And they were at it again, like they had never stopped. Neither surprised by the other’s skill level this time, pulling out all the stops. A blur of limbs and steel. The steps made it interesting, but it was almost academic. It changed their tactics. Their options. But not how well matched they were.

Halmir didn’t have time for this again. It seemed unsportsmanlike, to kill such a fine fighter with magic. He would have to destroy her. He opened his palm and faced Vye. The light enveloped Vye, crackling, lighting her up.

But that’s all it did.

Halmir and Vye froze for a second. A long, contemplative second. Vye was sure she was dead, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Halmir agreed, despite the fact Vye had apparently forgotten to fall down.

Or scream.

Halmir struck first, trying to seize the advantage in Vye’s hesitation. But her instincts kicked in and she parried him off. What the hell had just happened?

Halmir was sure there must have been some kind of mistake. A cosmic miscalculation. He pressed in, an aggressive stance, forcing Vye to back up a few steps. Again, he opened his palm, shooting an amped up version of the death spell. Again, the light struck Vye, surging over every inch of her body. She was glowing, radiant, like an Angel of Fury.

But as far as Vye was concerned, it was just a fun light show. It didn’t even tickle.

This time, Vye attacked first, catching Halmir while he was still thinking about the spell. Halmir fought her off well enough, but he didn’t have any answers. The spell should have worked. The spell always worked. What the fuck was wrong with this woman? Why wouldn’t she just die, like she was supposed to?

The Royal Guards had reached the third floor and were racing to the front gates. Halmir couldn’t waste more time here. He charged in again, having learned how to get Vye to back up a few steps. Once he had just enough room, he turned and leapt.

Again, when Halmir leaps, it’s not just a really good jump. He reached the first floor landing in one hop, then the second floor landing on the next. A full flight ahead of Vye, he took off on foot, conserving his remaining energy for the fight ahead.

Vye charged up the stairs... And that’s when she finally tripped
on her dress
.

“Oh, that just about does it!” she said, standing.

---

The Royal Guards burst through the sally port and dragged the Prince across the courtyard. They scurried for the stables at top speed.

They were halfway there when Halmir emerged from the sally port. While his prey was running, he just
walked. He didn’t need to run. He just needed to open his palm.

Vye, making a compromise between modesty and practicality,
had torn the skirt of the dress, ripping it from seam to waist. It was certainly a fashion statement, but more importantly, it gave her mobility.

She
charged up the three flights of stairs and straight across the third floor main corridor, and out the sally port. By the time she emerged onto the courtyard, the third Royal Guard was dying a horrible death.

Vye scanned the area. Halmir was walking, with an eerie calm, toward the Prince and the three remaining Guards. The Guards were almost at the stables.

Halmir fired another candle spell. The next Guard went down shielding the Prince’s body with his own. Vye saw that Halmir’s focus was fully committed to the Prince. She started to sneak up on Halmir, letting her feet rest on the soft grass of the summer.