ballroom drew back reeling, some fell to the floor crying out with shock. I would judge that my ‘flashbang’ was a success, although I still needed to work out a better name for it.
I opened my eyes and saw Devon sitting on the ground. He was blinking and seemed completely disoriented. His sword lay beside him but his hand couldn’t find it. I had created my spell right in front of him, so he should have gotten the worst of it. The flashbang was a creation of pure light and sound, with no force behind it to break or destroy. His shield had not protected him at all, not being designed to do so. In fact his shield still appeared to be around him. How annoying, I thought.
I swung at him with my sword, but it failed to do more than knock him sideways. I needed something bigger, heavier. I cast about, looking for a better weapon. My eyes landed on the eastern fireplace. Striding over I looked for the fireplace tools, but someone had taken the iron poker. I started searching the kindling piled next to the hearth instead. The great hall had two fireplaces, and they were so large that the logs were cut almost three feet in length. I selected a sturdy piece fully four inches in diameter. I held it up in a double handed grip, it seemed to have promise.
I headed back towards Devon. He was standing now and still seemed blind, but he didn’t need eyes to see me. Using his mage-sight he pointed at me and said something I couldn’t hear. White hot flames erupted around me, but my shield kept out the worst. The heat was so great my clothes began to crisp and char about me. I ignored the flames and marched at him, “Lyet Bierek” I said again, and a great cracking ‘boom’ sent him to the floor.
The flash had partly blinded me but I didn’t need my eyes any more than he did. The log swung in a great arc as I slammed it into his face. He flew several feet, crashing into a chair near the edge of the room. I hit him again, pleased he was still conscious. I began steadily raining blows on him with my firewood club. He tried to raise his sword but I knocked his arm aside. I thought it might have broken which brought a smile to my face. I smacked him about like one of the dummies the guards practice with, beating him senseless.
Finally he collapsed, unconscious on the floor. As he passed out his shield winked out of existence and I grinned, raising my makeshift club over my head. Someone touched my arm and I almost swung at them before I realized it was Marc. He was shouting something but I couldn’t hear him. I removed the sound block from my ears. “…if you kill him they’ll have you for murder!” he yelled.
I looked at him stupidly, “Yeah, so what?!”
“You’ll be hanged!” he shouted back.
I thought for a second, “If I don’t kill him he’ll press his case and have Penny hanged!”
Marc looked at me for a moment, “You’re right. Kill him.” Then Dorian appeared, still blinking his eyes from my earlier spell.
“Let me do it,” he said, pointing at Devon with his sword.
We started arguing, trying to decide which of us should finish him off when James Lancaster found us. “Put the firewood down Mordecai. Dorian sheathe your sword!” his tone brooked no delay. I looked down at the piece of wood I held, it was still burning from the fire Devon had used on me, so I walked over to the fireplace and threw it in.
Around the room people were still recovering. Several men were beating out a fire that had started near where Devon tried to roast me. A large tapestry was in flames but it looked like they would be able to keep it from spreading. I walked back to the Duke, his son was arguing with him but he shouted Marc down, “I’m not hanging anyone, not you, not Penelope, not even this piss poor excuse of a lord here! Now shut up and let me think!” I was pretty sure that by ‘piss poor excuse of a lord’ he meant Devon, but there was a possibility he meant me instead.
I decided to ignore them and started looking for Penny. I found her with Rose, sitting at one of the small tables to the side. They were surrounded by a crowd of people, some of them watched me as I walked over. I showed my teeth and growled at them, “Move!” They cleared out quickly, and a few even ran.
I looked at Penny, she was sitting up but her face looked terrible. One eye was swelling shut and her nose looked like someone had formed it from a badly shaped piece of bread dough. “Oh Mort, your cheek!” she exclaimed. Her voice had a comical nasal twang, as if she were holding her nose pinched shut.
“Shut up stupid,” I said gently. I sat down next to her and touched her face with my mind. Sure enough the bone in her nose had snapped and been driven sideways. My experiments on my own bones had taught me a few things, so I spoke a quiet word first, damping all sensation in her face. Then I moved the bones back into place and reconnected them. My attempt at pain blocking wasn’t entirely successful, because she still let out a choked cry as the bones realigned. I couldn’t do anything about the swelling but at least she wouldn’t look funny when it healed.
I tried to kiss her but that didn’t work. Her nose was far too tender, plus she kept going on about my face. Eventually Rose dragged me over to a mirror along one of the walls. I was a horror, my right cheek was drooping, exposing my upper teeth; blood coated that side of my face and ran down my neck. Odd, I hardly felt it at all. I pushed the skin back together and sealed it with my finger and a thought, leaving a red line. I would later regret the rush job, since I still have an ugly scar there to this day.
That was when the screaming and yelling started up again. The doorway to the great hall only had a couple of guards still standing at it. Most of the others were scattered through the crowd trying to calm everyone down. The two by the doors were watching the events inside, so they never saw the men in black leathers who crept up on them from behind. They died quickly, but one of them screamed before his windpipe was cut through. Pandemonium erupted as people scrambled to get back from the doors.
The men spilling into the room were all dressed similarly, in black leather with masks tied over their features, hiding everything but their eyes. They carried sharp knives and long curved swords. I was pretty sure they hadn’t come to dance; they had the wrong shoes on. They spread out and began methodically cutting down the guests. People trampled each other in their efforts to get away, making it easier for the men to reach them.
Duke Lancaster was pushing his way through the crowd, he still hadn’t seen them yet, “What the bloody hell is going on here!?” He roared as people fought to get around him, then he saw the men. He was nearly cut down then, as he was still unarmed. Two of the men had him caught between them and a fallen table, but Lord Thornbear rushed into them from the side roaring like a bear. He didn’t have his sword either, but he held a chair and used it to smash one of the men to the ground. Then he drove the other back like some eastern lion tamer, holding the chair in front of him.
At least thirty of them were already in the room, spreading out, killing anyone they found. I could see many more entering through the main doors. “Lyet Bierek” I spoke and the men all around the doorway fell back, shocked and stunned. That bought us some time while Sir Kelton and the guards in the room struggled to form a line between the remaining guests and the men in the room.
The Duke and Thornbear were still cut off from the rest of us, surrounded now by a dozen men. The assassins were still disoriented and Thornbear fought like a maddened bull, swinging his chair back and forth, cracking skulls. Even so they would have been slain had Dorian not come to his father’s aid. He charged from the line of men with Sir Kelton and cut his way past those before him to reach his father.
I had never seen Dorian fight like that before, nor do I hope to ever again. He became a demon of slaughter with a sword in each hand. I wondered where he had found the second blade, and it was only later I realized he had taken Devon’s sword from the ground. Dorian ran through the men in his way, and as he passed they fell back, dropping weapons and crying out from the wounds he gave them. He went through them like a scythe through ripe grain.
Once he had reached the Duke and his father he paused to toss the sword in his off hand to Lord Thornbear who caught it deftly. The two of them fought on either side of the Duke then, steadily working their way toward Sir Kelton and his men.
During all of this I had taken a position among the guards who were struggling to form a defensive line. Marc was to my right wielding a sword to deadly effect. I tried to do the same but I was far less skilled, if it had not been for my magical shield I would have died several times over. We strove to drive them back but there were too many. Man for man the Duke’s guardsmen were better at face to face combat but the assassins outnumbered us several times over. We were driven back, step by step, till they controlled more than half of the great hall, and we were even further from the two Thornbears and the Duke, still fighting for survival.
The guards were falling one by one and now we had fewer than thirty men, barely enough to form a line across the room. A few more down and we would be overrun. “Dorian!” I yelled, “Run!” He caught my eye for a
