“You right,” he said. He raised his voice, shouting to his captains-Bloodgutter, Rib Chewer, Dirtborn, Blackgaard, and the rest-who stood nervously nearby, waiting for his orders.
“Stop attack. Camp here. We rest. Enjoy spoils.”
And those spoils, he admitted with some pride, were great. Not just the treasures and provisions they had gained in sacking Garnet, Thelgaard, Luinstat. No… his gains were greater than all that.
“Est Sudanus oth Nikkas.” He murmured the phrase quietly, looking to the north and relishing the great Truth:
All that vast plain belonged to him.
The city gates stood open, and the few knights still on duty actually flinched away from Jaymes as he rode into Caergoth at full gallop. Everywhere he saw signs of the defeat-wounded men on porches, in alleys, even stableyards. Sergeants-major shouted and cajoled. Shamefaced men-many lacking the weapons they had dropped on the long retreat-took positions on the walls, in the gatehouse. Others marched with lackluster gait but with some semblance of discipline toward the castle or other defense points.
The exhausted men were fearful of pursuit, but Jaymes knew they were safe, for now. Following the destruction of the bridge, the army of Ankhar would be stopped at the Garnet River for a long time. Dram, Sulfie, and Salty Pete were not far behind him, making their way to the city as fast as their legs could carry them. Coryn had flown to destinations of her own, riding the wings of magic.
Within the city, Jaymes paid little attention to the disorganized army as he guided the horse along the city’s wide central avenue. A great plaza that had been the site of a teeming marketplace was now so empty he could cross it at full speed. The hooves of his horse clattered across the flagstones as, finally, he rode past the Temple of Shinare, with the great golden scales on the doors, and drew up before the gate of Castle Caergoth itself.
The great drawbridge was down, but several guards hurried into position to block his path. Two of them carried long halberds while the third drew his sword and stood firmly in the middle of the wooden span. Jaymes pulled his own weapon and waved it high.
“Get out of my way!” he snarled, sweeping the great weapon in a circle. “I have business with your duke!”
This proved persuasive, and the men cleared out of his path. One shouted a warning across the courtyard as Jaymes continued toward the keep, his horse stumbling and only gradually slowing.
“Guards! It’s the Assassin! Take him!”
The cry came from Captain Reynaud, who stood with drawn sword before the door of the keep. His black, curling mustache quivered as he glared at the rider. Several knights emerged from a door at the side of the courtyard, but like the guards at the drawbridge they displayed a marked lack of enthusiasm.
“You men-stand fast!” barked the officer. “See that he doesn’t get out of here!”
More men came running, blocking off the drawbridge. Others dropped a portcullis, closing access to the courtyards deeper in the castle complex. After a quick glance to make sure no archers were drawing a bead on his back, Jaymes dismounted smoothly.
“You returned quickly from the battle,” he drawled to Reynaud, still holding the sword in one hand. “You and your boss should have stayed around for the real fighting.”
The captain came forward, holding a great sword in both his hands. “Drop your weapon or die!” he challenged.
Jaymes merely laughed.
“Murderous bastard! How dare you!” spat the captain, dropping into a fighting crouch.
The man called the Assassin took the hilt of his own weapon in both hands. He twisted, and Giantsmiter flared brightly in the castle courtyard. Reynaud put up his left hand to shield his eyes, but he didn’t retreat one step. He waited, his sword extended.
Jaymes advanced and took a swing. The flaming blade hissed and crackled through the air, and there was no mistaking the fear that flashed in Reynaud’s eyes. Jaymes stepped closer, slashed again and again, each blow forcing his opponent back.
“Attack him, you fools!” cried the officer, gesturing to the half dozen men standing before the portcullis. They started forward cautiously, as Jaymes attacked Reynaud.
The captain turned and sprinted for the door of the keep as the other knights closed in-then backed away as Jaymes wheeled to face them, swinging the flaming sword in their direction. Unimpeded, the swordsman stalked up to heavy doors of the keep, doors Reynaud had just slammed shut.
A tremendous blow from the sword of Lorimar smote the barrier in two. Stepping through their smoldering wreckage, he found himself in the entryway of the vaulted great hall.
“You may not come here!”
These words were spoken by a cleric, a surprisingly youthful-looking man in a gold robe who stepped from a side room and held up one hand, gesturing for the warrior to stop. The cleric was handsome-but his expression was curled into a sneer of hatred.
“Get out of my way, priest,” declared Jaymes. “The scales of Shinare will not protect you from this accounting!”
“Perhaps not,” said the priest, the sneer curving into a cruel smile, “but my strength comes from a secret source. Stop where you are!”
The patriarch shouted words of command. Magic coursed through the hall, but Jaymes kept walking. The ring pulsed on his finger, grew warm as it absorbed the cleric’s spell.
“Slay him, my prince!” cried the priest. He brought one fist down into the palm of his hand, his eyes flashing. Jaymes heard a noise and looked up, saw the ghostly image of a hammer swirling in the air above his head. That conjured weapon smashed downward then vanished as soon as it touched its intended target. Again, the ring pulsed with warmth.
“Impossible!” croaked the priest, staring in disbelief.
Jaymes took another step closer to the wide-eyed priest. “Maybe your god has taken a vacation,” he said calmly.
“You dare to blaspheme-you’ll pay for that heresy!”
The priest retreated into the side room. Jaymes followed, saw the man push on a panel of the wall, opening a dark passage. He ducked inside, and the secret door swished shut behind him.
Jaymes sprinted after him, splintering the wooden door with a single blow, revealing a small landing and steps leading steeply downward into darkness. His sword burned, illuminating the way. He followed quickly, descending a spiraling stair for a long way down. At the bottom he raced through a dark tunnel, hearing footsteps scuffing rapidly along in front of him.
The swordsman’s fiery blade revealed a narrow passage with brick walls and frequent overhead arches of stone. These arches separated the segments of the tunnel into individual vaults. Several side passages beckoned, but Jaymes continued straight ahead, still following the footsteps.
Coming to a partially opened door, he saw it was fitted for a lock bar on both sides. Pushing through, Jaymes charged into a place where, very suddenly, he found himself groping through utter darkness. He wondered if Giantsmiter had faltered, but when he raised it up he felt the warmth of the flames against his face.
This was magical darkness, he realized, and his ring was apparently useless to dispel this effect.
A heavy blow from the sharpened corner of a solid object smashed the back of his head.
The darkness swallowed him completely.
“Where did the bastard go?” demanded Captain Powell.
Captains Marckus and Dayr, together with a young knight named Sir Rene, rushed into the courtyard. They had all heard the urgent shouts claiming that the Assassin was on the premises.
Marckus had returned to the officers’ barracks after brooding on his lord’s behavior and on many other things, during the long retreat. He had been pondering his next course of action with Dayr, who was bitter about his own duke’s failings, when the commotion in the courtyard had drawn their attention and brought them out.
“What has happened?” demanded the grizzled veteran.
“Reynaud claimed the Assassin came through here,” Powell replied. “It looks like he shattered the door and entered the keep.”
“We’ve got to find him-but don’t kill him!” Marckus declared urgently.
Powell flashed him a look of surprise-even understanding-then nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”
