Styrax checked his pace as he reached the corner, in case an axe was going to be swung blind, then shot round it. A grunt of surprise preceded a heavy spear being thrust forward. Styrax, ready, grabbed the shaft and tugged hard, pulling the youth from the shadows. Gaur, close behind as always, slammed a hairy fist into the unprotected fore¬arm holding the spear. The youth yelped and dropped the weapon, t rying to scramble back until he realised the bestial general had him by the scruff of the neck.
'You'll do,' muttered Styrax. He took the boy from Gaur and gave him a shake. Startled, fearful eyes stared up at the huge white-eye as the boy froze. 'You understand me?' Styrax demanded in Chetse.
The youth flinched then opened his mouth to speak. Unable to find words, he nodded hurriedly.
'That was a foolish thing to do. Lord Salen would have used it as an excuse. Lucky for you that you just tried to run me through instead of one of his men, wouldn't you say?' Styrax smelled an acrid smell rise up from the boy, who looked to be less than thirteen sum¬mers – too young to join the army, too young to have developed the muscle a Chetse warrior needed. He smiled and put the boy down, then removed his helm and let the boy see his face, instead of the unnervingly angelic aspect of Karkarn etched into the faceplate.
'I want you to do something for me, boy,' he said. 'Did you hear what happened at the gate?'
The boy managed a nod.
'That was us killing the men who've been guarding you. They were going to wait until dawn, and then kill the general. Are you related to General Dev?'
Again, he got a nod. In a dry rasp, the boy said, 'He's my great-uncle, sir.'
Styrax thought it sounded strange to hear the Chetse tongue in a high girlish voice. It sounded lighter, more poetic than he'd suspected – until now, he'd only heard it spoken by soldiers. 'I thought as much. What's your name, boy?'
'Esech, sir.'
'And you know who I am?'
The boy nodded, unable to say the words.
'Esech, I gave no orders for the general to be killed, nor for many of the other things Lord Salen has done in the city since I've been gone. Do you know what I do to men who don't follow orders?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Good. Now tell me whether there are any more Menin in the stonedun.'
'Only four, sir; two in Uncl- in the general's chamber and two at the door.'
'Thank you, Esech. We're going to go and free your great-uncle now. I want to talk to him a while.'
'You're- Are you going to kill him?'
'No, I'm not. You believe me, don't you?'
The boy froze, unsure, incapable of saying to this huge white-eye's face that he disbelieved the Menin lord. After a moment he lowered his eyes and nodded.
'Good. Now go back to your family's rooms and tell your family that in a few minutes the stonedun won't have any guards. That means you will be able to do what you like, but it's not going to be much fun on the streets tonight. I suggest you all stay quiet and safe. Can you do that?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Then nod once more if I just keep on going up this main stair to reach the general's chambers, and go back to your rooms.' Styrax watched the boy bob quickly and scramble away. He straightened and replaced his helm.
'Right, no unnecessary commotion here. Kohrad, take Gaur's cross¬bows and go ahead. You can see well enough to get both guards?'
Kohrad nodded and sheathed his own sword, the flames from the blade licking at the gold band on the scabbard for another heartbeat before dissipating. He accepted one of Gaur's crossbows, loaded it with ease as the general did the other, then turned and began padding softly up the steps, both crossbows levelled and ready. Styrax followed close behind, weaving a simple spell to bind the tunnel's shadows around his son.
The darkly flickering armour melted into the murky surrounds and Kohrad turned up the last corridor without hesitation. Styrax caught sight of the two drowsy, bored guards over his son's shoulder only just before Kohrad shot them, one following the other so swiftly that the second man didn't even have time to see why his companion had grunted before a bolt hit him in the throat. Styrax stepped over the corpses to the closed iron-bound door.
More sloppiness, he thought to himself as he realised the door was too thick to allow the sound to travel. I would hope for better from my own army than this. Don't tell me they let the old man claim he'd catch a chill and allowed their numbers be divided the night before he was damn well scheduled for execution? Haven't they even contemplated someone attempting a rescue?
He drew a breath and hefted Kobra. The strange, fanged blade was pitch-black colour – except after it had killed, when it took on a deep red sheen. Styrax had always considered it a hateful weapon, too eager to drink the blood of those he killed. Unfortunately, that also made it the most powerful sword he'd come across, with the exception of that wielded by Koezh Vukotic, the last weapon forged by the Elf king Aryn Bwr, which was filled with last king's grief at the assassination of his son.
Styrax could have taken that sword as he watched Koezh Vukotic's corpse putrefy and disintegrate, but it had rejected him. There was not enough loss in his soul, he suspected. After he'd touched the blade with his scarred hand, Styrax hadn't wanted it either – so much pain would eat its way into a man, and that power was not worth the high price demanded. A long time ago he had been told that he would have to take everything he had, that nothing would be given freely to the Saviour he was to become. That suited Styrax, even after he'd rejected the dubious honour. He had earned his 'gifts', and bore no debt to the Gods because of them.
Kicking the door off its hinges, Styrax stormed dramatically into the room, almost colliding with the guard who had jumped up from his chair and was still fumbling for his sword. Styrax scanned the room quickly, then swung Kobra up to meet the second soldier's axe which was crashing down towards his hip. The force of his blow drove the man back and Styrax stepped away to give himself space to swing his broadsword properly, removing the man's head in a shower of blood and shattered bone. The other guard had regained his feet, but he barely had time to raise his own weapon before he found himself spitted on Styrax's sword. The magical blade pierced the centre of his cuirass and pinned him, whimpering, to the wall. Stepping close, Styrax snapped the man's neck to finish him off quickly, and led the sword jammed in the stone, feeding greedily.
He took stock of the living: two women cowered near the bed, obvi-ously terrified, while a young unarmed Chetse soldier by the window looked almost frozen on the point of running forward. Styrax ignored them all and walked to the bedside, where an elderly man bad raised himself up on his elbows. His only reaction was to raise an eyebrow at the newcomer, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by the thick grey bandage wrapped around his head.
'Ah, General Dev,' Styrax said graciously. 'I hear you're scheduled for execution in the morning.'
'Lord Styrax.' Chote Dev acknowledged his fellow soldier. 'I had suspected as much – but it appears that is no longer the case.'
Styrax paused and stared down at the man. 'Well now, that rather depends on you,' he replied gravely. He pulled up a chair and sat down besiele the bed as Kohrad and Gaur arrived at the open doorway. 'You are no fool, and running a guerrilla campaign at your
age would be rather taxing. I think you'd enjoy an easy retirement – and I don't actually want to have to kill you and all your family in a most unpleasant fashion. It would be a tedious waste for both of us.'