LXXXV
Sweat steaming under the solid trap of his armour, Alex hastened down the long rope of corridor, the tunnel extending endlessly.
Dark red windows chased him with a sideways glance, the creeping night defended against by only the small flames of standing torchères and lamps; their small glows were oppressed easily.
"Alex!"
Ignoring his pursuer, Alex kicked open the next door he spotted, the quake of breaking wood flinching screams from within. Maids held each other, on the floor, in terror, cowering away. It was another guest bedroom— not what Alex was seeking out.
"Alex, I know that's you!"
"I'm busy," he replied.
"There is no way I'm leaving you alone," Thomas insisted, marching over to him.
Alex quickly shut the door and stepped away as Thomas got close, hiding the servants inside.
"You need to go back."
"I know what you're doing," Thomas barrelled on. "And it's too dangerous."
Alex didn't have time for this. "By being here with me you're putting yourself in danger, too. You have a wife and daughter waiting on your return."
He continued his search, rushing to the next door, the armoured thuds of footsteps following. His speed was dragging as if he'd been burdened with dragging the weight of Thomas behind him as well.
Thomas grabbed his arm and Alex whipped it out of his grasp.
"And you're on a suicide mission!" Thomas shouted.
"If the duke doesn't kill you first then King Fabian certainly will!
Yeah, I know what you plan to do— and that man is far too skilled for you and he'll be surrounded by dozens of guards who will also be better than you. This is suicide! And for what?"
"It has to be me," he ground out, over his barely controlled temper.
"That's James' role! He has to be the one to finish King Fabian off!"
"Fuck off!" Alex snapped, shoving Thomas back by his chest. The other man stumbled, wide-eyed in shock. "And that's an order!"
Thomas wouldn't understand. He wouldn't get it— not if Alex even attempted to explain. Despite everything they'd planned, the detrimental truth had become obvious: James still loved his brother.
King Fabian was James' last family and, without predicting how James would react, King William planned to put the two in front of each other once again, all this time later.
Alex worried that James might decide to give up before he dared to murder his last tether to this world.
The possibility was both frightening and likely and Alex would not take any chances.
He would get there first and save James by taking the act out of his hands.
"Listen," Alex said, calming. "Leave me and go look after yourself, okay?"
Even if it meant going up against the greatest swordsman in the nation, Alex would keep his promise to James and protect him from harm. No matter the cost.
"And leave you to die alone? Not you, too..."
Alex kept his expression steady. "Better than dying in a pair."
Thomas owed them nothing. His loyalty lay with his family, as it should've been.
Lips twisting downwards, Thomas struggled with the thought, torn. The hesitation presented an opportunity Alex needed to make his escape, taking the choice out of Thomas' hands, just like he'd done in the past. Except, this time, he would do right by Thomas.
"If you want to help us, go kill King Fabian's duke. I'll come and find you. I promise."
Thomas groaned, ducking his head. Then, he began to drift backwards. "You promised," he sternly repeated, pointing at Alex. "Otherwise I'll have to find you."
"That won't happen."
A smoky scent bittered the air, Thomas' dark stature melting into a dry grey fog as the distance between them widened. A faint rumble quivered in Alex's ears below the smashing of metal against metal and the shouts and cries of dying men.
Alex worried James might find it difficult to see in the dark smoke. He quickly banished that distracting thought.
He had a job to do.
"Well, well, well. Is that you, clay face?"
Alex stiffened, the black smudge beyond him sharpening as it crept closer, the edges tracing the contours of multiple men. Alex involuntarily stepped back before his gaze snagged on the door he'd broken into. He stopped.
"Caelan." Alex knew that voice.
His brother sneered, coming into view. "I wish your cowardness surprised me. You're disgusting, hiding out up here whilst your countrymen die."
Alex said nothing, assessing the situation. There were four men in total that he could see. There might have been more further down the corridor and out of view. He couldn't tell.
"Then again, you never saw us as your kin. And us, we were never considered your family, were we?"
"You're wrong," Alex said. "It was always you who never considered me as such."
"He answers back," one of the other men chuckled, in mocking surprise.
"That mouth is probably the only smart thing of his," another piped up.
"You don't want to know where that mouth has been," Caelan added, cringing. "He was blowing old men before he even learnt to speak."
"Disgusting."
Maintaining the neutrality of his facade, Alex watched, in his peripheral vision, as one of the soldiers wandered up to that broken door, displaying a mild interest in it.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, aiming his gaze carefully.
"I think you know what," Caelan replied. "Isn't that why you came up here to hide away?"
The conversation had only distracted the soldier's interest for a moment before it returned. He was only an arm's length away from that room.
"I'm not sure I understand."
"You don't think Dad wouldn't notice you've been avoiding him? You're a fucking retarded animal, Alexander."
"I apologise."
That soldier lifted his hand to press against the splintered wood, giving a small and curious prod and Alex launched forward, sword drawn and slicing down in a single movement, the blade vibrating as it collided and lodged in the man's bone.
His arm was almost severed, wet plashes dripping to the ground. He screamed.
The raspy cry echoed and carried, alarming any nearby soldiers of their location. The company may save Alex if he held out; the maids in the room, however...
"Are you insane?" Caelan yelled.
"Isn't this why you came here?" Alex challenged, swiping his sword in the air, the blood spraying off. His hands were still wet from earlier kills, the grip slippery in his palm. It wasn't going to be easy.
"You cut off my arm!" the soldier sobbed furiously, hyperventilating, crushing the wound with his other hand in a panic. "Y-you—"
"Don't look away when you're in the middle of murdering someone," Alex said.
"This isn't murder—" his brother spluttered. "This is culling the problematic bull from the herd and removing him from the gene pool!" With the declaration came a lousy swing that Alex was quick to parry.
"I think you got mixed up, My Lord. Bringing three men along with you to slaughter an animal, where's your pride? You'll never get close to Colby's nobility with cowardly tricks like that. You're inferior and pathetic in comparison."
"Shut up!"
Caelan shouted as he aimed yet another clumsy swing of his sword, his body pulled by the outstretched weight of it. Alex dodged it with relative ease, assessing how to conserve his energy best. He was still outnumbered.
"Caelan," one of the other men said, voice tight with fury as he tended to his injured friend. "Let us—"
"No!" Caelan snapped. "No, you stay right there! Don't you fucking move a single step— do you understand me?"
The relief of Alex's small victory hardly dampened the anxious pounding of his heart. Even after he eliminated Caelan, he'd still have two more people to fight and he'd be more exhausted than them.
Caelan went for him, carrying a punch behind the strike of his sword, Alex having to block it head-on, his forearms aching with the weight.
"You've never beaten me," Caelan sneered. "I'm not sure why you think this time would be different."
Alex barked in laughter, even though the situation wasn't amusing. He gathered his strength and rammed through. Caelan stumbled back a step, the unexpected shove catching him off balance.
"That's because, this time, your dad hasn't asked me to lose."
Caelan's fury made him even more reckless than usual, his form lacking discipline and his swings heavy and unconstrained, his body getting dragged around and staggering from the heavy weight thrown around. It was only a matter of time until he tripped over his own feet.
As Alex dodged yet another wide attack, he swung his blade at Caelan's legs, the metal shin guards taking the brunt but the force passing through, injuring them internally. Caelan shouted in pain and rage, falling to the ground, sword thrown from his hands and sliding across the tiles.
Kneeling suited him, Alex thought.
Unfortunately, it gave a mandate for the other two able soldiers to step in regardless of Caelan's wishes. Feet shoulder-width apart, Alex readied himself as the two drew their blades. Alex was tired, but he wasn't dead yet.
"What's going on here?"
Amid their fight, strangers had crept up on them, appearing from the thickening smoke.
Shit. Were they Ankaid knights drawn to this place by the noise? Alex inched backwards before his face scrunched up at the memory of the guest room they were outside. The maids would still be in there.
Alex's worst fears were quickly drained away, his knees weak, when Harrison, helmetless, came into view, several guards following him.
"He attacked me!" Caelan cried, the advisor's presence a welcoming one. "He attacked me and my men! Look at us!"
Caelan's dogs agreed and protested to Harrison, gesturing wildly.
At the very least, they weren't aiming their swords Alex's way any longer.
As they made up events, bouncing accusations off each other, Harrison was still, smiling slightly, as if listening to their explanation.
Then, cutting through their incessant rambling, Harrison stated:
"Alexander, you are needed in the hall."
It stunned the others into silence.
"Of course," he replied, accepting the way out he'd been presented, even if it meant he had to abandon this wing. It wasn't likely King Fabian was here, otherwise Ankaid soldiers would have been close enough to hear and interrupt their commotion.
Alex walked past Caelan's crumpled body, and past the men tending to their friend, not suppressing the sense of self-satisfaction that came from viewing their outrage and pain. They'd follow shortly.
"And what about us?" Caelan protested, angrily.
Harrison smiled. "What about you?"
"He attacked us!"
"Most unfortunate. I suppose you'll think twice before abandoning your battle next time."
Caelan's throat-tearing fury followed them down the corridor. "Alexander!"
As the haze shielded them, a sudden breath wobbled out of Alex, the tension shattering into something momentarily weak. He didn't let it show as Harrison led them away, the sooty air worsening his lightheadedness.
One of Harrison's guards walked especially close to him. Alex warily scrutinised the person, trying to identify their intentions through their eyes, past the slit of their helmet. They were a familiar dark brown.
"Bloody hell, Thomas."
"That's what I should be saying," Thomas muttered back, equally quiet. "You're lucky that I not only found Harrison but that he listened to me."
"I'm going to commission you a fucking statue in the middle of the square for this."
Thomas chuckled.
"You should've known better, Alexander," Harrison loudly spoke. "What were you thinking?"
"I had a reason," Alex insisted.
"No, I assumed you had a reason. I just want to know what it was."
Alex kept his voice steady, despite the dizzying breathlessness that tried to drag at his lungs. "James gave me a particular task to complete." He twisted the truth.
Harrison cocked his head in thought, glancing at Alex over his shoulder. Alex kept his face cold and neutral.
"You don't have to worry about that anymore," he said. "There will be no more running around from you."
Alex's confusion must've been evident because Harrison added: "King Fabian's duke is dead."
Shit. It was a good thing, yes, but Alex was being chained to the main battle, Harrison misreading his actions. He wouldn't be forgiven for sneaking away a second time, not with an express warning. How was Alex meant to find King Fabian now?
"The Drykas army currently has the upper hand," one of the other men updated Alex as the sounds of war sharpened and strengthened.
"A fire has broken out on the first floor.
Almost all lines of defence have been broken.
Our men are still searching for King Fabian but are stuck and unable to reach the fourth floor. "
Alex got to see for himself as they turned the corner, the aggressive barking of soldiers ordering civilians and servants to sit on the floor in clusters, much of them injured and bleeding from gashes, their tear-stained faces marred in horror and despair.
The misery, nor the compliance, gentled their handlers who threw them to the ground like sacks of grain.
Suddenly, Alex felt far away in his own head, watching the scene with a sickened numbness. The events transpired beyond his control, the wailing louder than any shouted command. Women, some only teenagers, were being broken apart by Drykas' own men.
Only two people in a war? No, James was delusional. There were thousands.
"I'm going to stick with Duke Chamberlain," Thomas told Alex before leaving. "I'll make sure he doesn't try anything else."
"I love you, man."
Thomas snorted. "Cocksucker."
Alex turned to Harrison. "Thank you for coming to my aid."
Harrison merely hummed, not providing anything else in response.
As grateful as Alex was, he didn't once believe the act was free. Harrison, eventually, would ask him for something in exchange— if he hadn't already received such a favour from James. Not that Alex would know. James never told him anything.
Turning blind to the mistreatment and hating himself for it, Alex took off to the third floor, returning to the front lines. If he couldn't try to find King Fabian by searching untouched areas, at the very least, he could get to the front of the pack and beat the others to it by mere seconds.
He'd save James.