“We’ll take them as well.”
Griff nodded slowly. “Good hunting, your highness. Stay safe.”
Relam smiled tightly. “No worries. I’m a soldier now, after all.”
“You passed the trials just this morning,” Griff pointed out.
“Yeah, just in time,” Relam muttered. “Come on,” he said to the guards. “Be ready for battle at a moment’s notice.”
“Your highness?” one said tentatively. “Are you-”
Relam held up a hand to stop him. “Fine. Let’s deal with this now, shall we? I passed the trials this morning, am a full soldier now, and it was my family attacked by these assassins. I will go after them and I will lead you into battle.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “Are there any other questions now?”
The guards shook their heads mutely. Some still looked doubtful, but from their determined gazes, Relam could tell that they would obey.
“Good,” he said, nodding jerkily. “Let’s go.”
The young prince led the way out of the kitchens, into the main corridors of the palace. The servants’ corridors may have been faster, but Relam knew the main corridors better and these were the ones the assassins were more likely to use. Relam jogged up the first two flights of stairs and along a hallway, his five guardsmen in perfect formation behind him. The clanking of their armor was nearly deafening but there was little he could do about that. The next loudest sound was the heavy breathing of the men directly behind Relam. That sound was far more concerning. It told the prince his men were tired, and possibly out of condition. He frowned, wondering why the palace guards were not made of sterner stuff, then pushed the matter aside.
“Your highness, where are we going?” the man behind and to his left gasped between strides.
“To the royal suite,” Relam replied curtly. “That’s where the assassins were last seen. We’ll start there, then try and guess the most likely escape routes for them.”
“Good plan,” another guard grunted. “Unless they have already left the palace.”
“In which case no plan is a good plan,” Relam countered. “Or at least, no plan would have much chance of succeeding.”
They jogged on, finally turning onto the corridor the royal suite branched off of. Ahead, Relam could see the bodies of the guards that had stood outside the door to the main room. As they drew closer, the prince could make out noises as well, the sounds of someone searching the room.
As they approached, a third palace guard crawled slowly out of the royal apartments, his hand covering a massive wound in his stomach. His face was contorted with terrible pain, his eyes squinting nearly shut. Blood welled from between his fingers and poured from the ragged hole in his armor. When he saw Relam and the others approaching though, he stopped moving and stared, openmouthed.
The prince broke into a run, hoping maybe this man would know what was going on, where the assassins were. But, as he drew within ten meters, a black-clad figure leapt out of the royal suite, knelt on the guard’s back, and cut his throat with a leaf-bladed dagger. The guard gurgled horribly, then lay still, his blood mixing with that of the other two slain guards.
The assassin looked around then and saw Relam and his small band of guards. He gave a warning shout, then flipped his dagger in the air, caught it by the point, and threw it in one seamless movement. Relam, surprised by the swiftness of the attack, froze in panic. He had no shield, no way to deflect the spinning blade. He threw his sword up in defense, but at the last moment one of the guardsmen reached over and stuck his shield in the dagger’s path. The dagger hit the unexpected barrier side on and clattered to the stone floor.
“Get him!” Relam shouted, rushing forward at the assassin, sword flashing.
The assassin hesitated, then reached for another dagger. Before he could draw it though, one of Relam’s guards was on him, kicking his hand away from the blade and smashing his shield into the side of the man’s head. The assassin crumpled, unconscious. The other four guards dashed past and into the royal suite, shouting and yelling. Relam blinked in surprise as they passed him by, trying to catch up with everything that was happening. Belatedly, he realized that maybe he wasn’t as qualified to lead them as he thought. Maybe, because of their experience, they outranked him by a little.
The prince followed the guards into the royal suite, moving quickly through the doorway. The guards were facing two black-clad assassins, each of whom was standing with a knife in either hand, waiting calmly.
Relam turned around, glancing at the guard in the hallway. “Is he alive?” he asked, gesturing to the downed assassin.
The guard felt for a pulse, then nodded. “Barely,” he grunted.
“Take them as well,” Relam said, gesturing to the remaining two assassins. “Just in case. Better yet,” he continued, turning back to face the black clad men. “Throw down your weapons and we will let you live.”
The assassins exchanged a glance, then lowered their blades, holding them with the hilts towards Relam and his guards, as though prepared to surrender. Relam stepped forward to take the daggers. As he did, he caught a glint of triumph in the eyes of the nearest assassin.
Then, the black-clad men casually flicked their wrists and sent the four daggers spinning towards the prince.
Relam started to drop flat, then was tackled bodily by a large man, knocking him off of his feet. He felt three heavy impacts through the body of his rescuer, then they both landed heavily on the stone floor. The prince heard several heavy thuds and grunts of pain from the direction of the assassins,
