28. Haldric
twenty-eight
Haldric
Haldric took a deep breath and nodded at his aunt. The longer they waited, the more time it gave their enemies to prepare.
With a roar, Duchess Janelle barreled through the door, banging it heavily back. From the startled cry behind it, at least one ambusher had been lurking there and now had a bloody nose to show for it.
Moving quickly after her, Haldric took in the room. The torches had been dimmed to make it easier to hide. Still, he spied movement off to either side in the shadows—archers, most likely. Two more figures stood at the far end of the room blocking the door to the corridor.
Before he could take in more details, a figure appeared directly in front of his aunt, lunging forward with a sword.
Fire burst in the air as she deflected the blow with one enchanted ax and swung the other down.
The attacker screamed, clutching at his bloodied arm as his sword clattered from his useless grip.
Haldric expected the attacker to move or get out of the way. Instead, he stood defiantly in their way. With a start, Haldric realized he recognized him. It was the boy from Revesole—the one who’d glared hatefully after their carriage as they’d departed.
“For Ilthabard!” the kid shouted, managing to draw a dagger with his off hand. “For freedom!”
As the boy threw himself forward with an unpracticed strike, Haldric saw his aunt tense, raising her axes.
“No!” he shouted. “He’s just a kid! Don’t—”
But it was too late. The boy collapsed in a spray of flame and sizzling crimson blood.
Haldric bowed his head. He knew he shouldn’t mourn him—the boy had ambushed them, tried to kill them. But having glimpsed the desperation that fueled him, Haldric mourned him all the same.
Were these rebels then? Judging by the boy’s presence, it seemed likely. But then…how had they gained access to the palace?
The twang of crossbows resounded, and Haldric snapped back to his senses when a flash of pain seared his shoulder.
He stumbled but kept his balance, glancing at the bolt protruding from his flesh.
As he’d predicted, his ward had slowed its momentum, lessening the impact. But it still hurt like the Void.
“Forward!” his aunt cried, dashing toward the door.
Haldric stumbled after her, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating from his wound. It was his own blasted fault for getting distracted like that. He knew better than to lose focus in the middle of a battle. Fendrel would’ve clapped his ear for making such a basic mistake.
Glancing toward the distant corners of the room, Haldric channeled fresh runeflame into his palm and unleashed a bolt of force at each.
Surprised shouts rang out, filling him with satisfaction, though he heard no cries of pain.
At least, the blasts might make the archers think twice before leaving cover to shoot.
He continued to hurl hasty Evocations into the corners as they neared the door. The two figures there stepped forward, their drawn swords glinting.
Haldric’s gut roiled when he realized it was the pair of guards who’d been standing watch when they arrived.
Traitors…or rebel pretenders wearing stolen armor?
He supposed it didn’t matter. Either way, Janelle met their assault with a furious roar and a flurry of ax blows still bolstered by Haldric’s enchantments.
Metal glinted near his feet, and he glanced down to see the boy’s dropped sword several paces away. He scrambled for it, relishing the solid weight in his grip as he rose. For all he’d resented being forced to learn how to fight these past few years, he was certainly grateful for that training now.
He stalked forward to join his aunt. She was holding her own against the pair of attackers, though these were better trained than that boy had been. Together, they’d managed to bar her path to the door.
Haldric considered joining her, then narrowly dodged a streak of black as a crossbow bolt ricocheted past. On second thought, perhaps he’d be better off continuing to offer fire support.
Suppressing a grimace, he unleashed another volley of arcane bolts, gratified when he heard a scream from the shadows.
He had no way of telling whether it had been a mortal blow.
Still, it had hopefully bought them precious seconds.
Throwing himself into the melee, he lunged at one of the false guards with an overhand strike.
Though the ambusher brought his sword up in time to block the blow, Haldric risked channeling one of the more basic spellblade techniques he’d been practicing into the strike, sending a silent prayer to the Goddess it didn’t backfire without the proper sigils in place to act as a focusing conduit.
Streaks of lightning arced wildly from his blade.
He barely evaded getting caught in the blast, electric bolts singing the hair on his arm.
The guard shuddered as the brunt of the energy coursed over him.
Janelle took full advantage of the distraction to hack at him with her axes. The guard fell in a spray of blood.
That left only the one attacker between them and the door. To his credit, the man didn’t flinch, settling in with his sword raised. “More of us will be here soon. You can’t stop the swelling tide now that it has begun.”
Haldric raised his free hand. “We’ll see about that. MOVE.”
The Compulsion gripped the man, and though he fought against the spell, by the time he’d thrown it off, he’d already staggered a handful of steps to the side.
He tried to recover and swing at them, shouting for the archers to fire, but Haldric and his aunt were already sweeping past, crashing through the door into the hall.
Haldric’s foot collided with something, and he stumbled, glancing down to see the bodies of the two guards Janelle had brought with her lying there, their throats slit.
Janelle slammed the door shut just in time to catch another crossbow bolt. “You got something for this door?”
Nodding numbly, Haldric sent an Alteration flooding the lock to harden its interior mechanisms. “That should slow them down.”
“Not for long. And while that Void-eater might’ve been bluffing about reinforcements, I don’t fancy calling him on it. If they’ve penetrated this far into the palace, there’s no telling how many of them there are. We need to get you out of here while we can.”
Picturing Benjin still locked in that cell, Haldric started down the hall. “There’s somewhere I need to go first.”
Muttering a curse, his aunt fell into step beside him. The magical glow was already dimming from her armor and blades as Haldric’s enchantments faded. “You’re hurt!”
Haldric tore the crossbow bolt free of his shoulder and tossed it aside, beginning to weave a basic Restoration spell as he walked. “I’ll live.”
“Goddess be praised, you’re as stubborn as your father when you want to be.” Despite her irritation, Haldric could’ve sworn he caught a note of pride in her voice. “All right—can you at least tell me where we’re going so I can chart us the safest path?”
He hesitated before admitting, “The dungeon.”
She jerked to a halt in the middle of the hall, and he braced himself for her reaction. Sure enough, it didn’t disappoint.
“Are you insane! Your father is dead, the palace under siege, and you want to go running off to your kidnapper? Goddess’s mercy, the Grand Magus’ spell was supposed to undo that boy’s enchantment on you!”
The Grand Magus…
Again, Haldric recalled Dexil’s ritual even as mention of his father conjured a sharp lance of pain to rival the one in his shoulder. “What happened wasn’t Benjin’s fault. It was mine.”
She eyed him askance. “Yours?”
He stared at the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “There’s no time to explain right now but believe me when I tell you Benjin had nothing to do with it. And while our identities may have been false, the love we felt—that was real!”
“Even if what you say is true, it’s madness to head for the cells. Once we get you to safety, we can regroup and gather more soldiers to retake the palace.”
Setting his shoulders, Haldric resumed walking, his stride determined. “You’re welcome to flee if you like, Aunt. But I’m not leaving here without Benjin.”
With another string of curses, her boots stomped after him. Haldric huffed out a relieved breath. He hadn’t relished the thought of navigating the halls alone.
The section of the palace near the royal chambers was eerily deserted. He remained on edge for another ambush, but they encountered no signs of anyone, friend or foe. It wasn’t until they neared the palace’s center that they began to catch sounds of distant battle.
He paused at an intersection, glancing uncertainly toward the echoed clash of swords. “Should we try to help?”
The skin around Janelle’s face tightened as she shook her head. “What we’re doing is dangerous enough. We’ll have to trust the guards to fight on their own.”
Nodding, Haldric reluctantly continued on. Though he’d managed to heal the worst of his wound, his shoulder still ached. The sounds of battle faded, the pervasive silence even more unsettling.
If the palace were truly under attack by invading rebels, he’d expect to see far more signs of activity: panicked servants and rallying guards. Yet other than the occasional sounds of distant skirmish, there was nothing. It was as if the entire palace had been abandoned.
Which made it all the more startling when they rounded a corner near the dungeons and almost collided with a hurrying figure moving the opposite way.
Haldric had his sword up, an instant away from striking before he caught himself. “Grand Magus!”
Dexil appeared unusually flustered, his fancy robes disheveled and most of his jewelry askew. His eyes widened when he took them in.
“Prince Haldric! And Duchess Janelle!”