Return of the Damned

18

"Put me down there," commanded Lindroos, pointing to a spot in the courtyard. "Near the door."

The janni did as Lindroos commanded, setting her down gently before the door on the edge of the courtyard inside the ducal palace. The other janni set the duke down next to her.

The minute Duke Ramas had his feet on the ground, Lindroos punched him in the face, and the duke fell backward.

Lindroos nodded to the jann. They proceeded to disarm the old, fallen fighter.

"I want you to understand, Ramas," said the blackguard, pacing before him, testing the sharpness of her blade as a chef might test her cleaver, "I have no qualms about killing you." She leaned down, smiling in his face. "In fact, I think I'd enjoy it."

Christo Ramas simply nodded.

Lindroos stood up. "Good," she said. "As long as you play along and behave, there's no reason for me to torture or maim you." She pointed the tip of her sword at him. "You don't want to be maimed, do you Ramas?"

The duke shook his head.

The jann stepped back, taking the duke's weapons and most of his armor with them.

"You two stay and guard this entrance," she ordered. "The duke is going to show me where he's keeping our friend trapped inside a terribly cramped bottle."

Regdar's lungs burned inside his chest. He'd never run so far so fast, wearing heavy armor, in all his life. He tried to distract himself by looking at the things around him. The ground was littered with dead or dying soldiers-that didn't make him feel any better. Beside him, Tasca and Whitman ran at full speed.

Whitman was having a hard time of it, trying to keep up. With his typical determination and his teeth gritted tight, the dwarf carried on, charging toward New Koratia with all of his strength. His boots of speed helped briefly, but in the end it was Whitman's willpower that allowed him to stay with the elf and the human.

Tasca, on the other hand, made the run seem effortless. He smiled when Regdar looked at him. Then he shrugged, obviously responding to the look of confusion on Regdar's face. The elf was as composed and casual as a princess at a harvest festival.

The eastern wall of the city came up quickly. Regdar felt as if he'd never make it, and he'd never been so happy to be wrong. The arched entranceway was completely unguarded. The group headed into the city, toward the bridge from the Merchants' Quarter over the river to the duke's island keep.

Under normal circumstances, Regdar would have expected to be stopped at several checkpoints along their route. Security getting over the River Delnir onto the island in the middle of New Koratia was always tough. Being attacked by an army of mercenaries and genies was hardly normal circumstances for the trading city.

Duke Ramas limped down the long, dark corridor.

"Move it, Ramas," ordered Lindroos, jabbing the tip of her blackened blade into his back. The jann had removed the duke's chestplate, leaving only a linen shirt between the weapon and his skin.

Christo stumbled forward, pulling away from the blade but hopping gingerly on his injured leg. He turned and glared at the blackguard.

"I'm going as fast as I can," he said through gritted teeth. "If that bothers you, take it up with your goons who smashed up my leg."

Lindroos shoved him down the hall. "Tell your sob story to someone who cares," she said. "And keep moving."

Christo glared for a moment longer, his eyes locked with hers, then he turned and continued down the hall. He took three limping steps before Lindroos shoved him again. Skipping forward a step, he caught his balance, then reversed directions.

His elbow flew backward and smashed Lindroos in the nose. The sound of crunching cartilage was magnified by the narrow stone corridor, and blood trickled down the blackguard's face. With her arms flailing to her sides, she stepped back, touched a hand to her lip, then looked down on the crimson smear on her fingertips.

The duke wheeled around, pivoting on his good leg, and lifted his fists in front of his face-one slightly higher than the other, both right below his eyes. Setting his feet shoulder width apart, he braced himself for a fight.

Lindroos rubbed her wrist across her face, clearing most of the blood. Her nose pointed off in a different direction than it had only moments before. Lifting her sword, she pointed the tip at the duke.

"How valiant," she said. "Fighting an armed opponent with just your bare hands. I see why they made you duke." She punched a fist in the air, followed by a parody of a kick. "Did they teach you to box in aristocrat school?" she asked, laughing.

Christo lunged forward and jabbed with his right hand. His punch was blindingly quick, and it caught the mocking blackguard on the chin. Her head slammed back, and she almost lost her balance again.

Lowering her head, Lindroos rubbed the back of her neck and her cheek. After opening and closing her jaw several times, she turned her attention back to Christo.

"Okay, old man," she said, "I'm through being pleasant." With a quick feint to the right, Lindroos lunged and caught the duke in the crook of his right arm. Her sword opened a wound in his exposed bicep from elbow to shoulder.

Duke Ramas hissed and limped back. The wound bled freely. When he tried flexing his arm, he could see the slashed muscles moving across each other under the flow of blood. The pain made his vision grow narrow, so he let the arm hang straight down his side. With his good arm he steadied himself against the wall.

Lindroos stepped forward and punched him hard in the face with the pommel of her sword. The duke's knees went weak, and he collapsed onto the stone floor.

The blackguard leaned over the bleeding old warrior. "Don't make me kill you here," she said. Lifting her sword to the side of his head, she slashed off a piece of his ear.

Christo let out a cry and put his hand up to protect his head. Warm blood ran down the side of his neck. "If you kill me, you'll never get the bottle," he spat.

Lindroos leaned down and picked up the ragged bit of ear. "If I kill you, I'll take you apart bone by bone until you wish you'd never heard of that bottle," she hissed. "And I'll still find it, if I have to dismantle this city brick by brick."

Regdar slowed to a walk as he crossed over the bridge. They were close-close enough that he needed to catch his breath before the fighting began again. Two city blocks past the end of the bridge, the tall walls of the ducal palace rose imposingly into the air.

The fighter waved the group toward the northern corner. "There's a door to the courtyard there," he explained. "Going around to the front gate will take too long."

Tasca and Whitman nodded, heading for the portal they'd used so often. Jozan, Alhandra, and her remaining holy avenger followed close behind.

Naull stepped up close to Regdar. "Here," she said.

Reaching up and wrapping her hands behind his head, the wizard lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed the big fighter. After lingering on his lips for a long moment, she finally pulled away and spoke an arcane word. Her hands buzzed with power, and Regdar felt suddenly stronger.

"For luck," she said smiling.

Regdar curled his fist up toward his head. His biceps bulged. "Thanks," he said, smiling. "Now if you could only make that permanent."

"For that," replied Naull, "you'll have to stick around for a while."

The big fighter blushed. "Maybe I will."

"See that you do."

The rest of the group had already passed through the door. The clash of weapons drifted over the wall to the two lovers.

"Trouble," said Regdar, and he took off at a run, with Naull following close behind.

Inside the courtyard, Whitman and Jozan battled two jann. Alhandra and her holy avenger were trying to get into flanking positions, and Tasca stood in the rear, patiently waiting his turn to get at either of the outsiders.

As Regdar closed in, he watched Jozan take a step back and level his hands at one of the janni.

"Flee," he yelled, his voice booming above all other noise in the courtyard.

The janni dropped its weapon and jumped into the air, flying straight away from the cleric as fast and as directly as it could.

Lindroos looked down on Duke Christo Ramas. She kicked him in the face, and he sprawled across an elegantly woven rug.

She shook her head. "You have a nice room, Duke," she said, circling around him and sheathing her sword. "You live surrounded by such beautiful things. I can't believe you'd sacrifice all of this for a lousy bottle… that you don't even know how to use."

The duke struggled to his knees, and Lindroos kicked him again in the ribs. He coughed and collapsed to the floor, spewing blood and mucus.

The blackguard continued pacing around the room. "You have lovely paintings… nice furniture too." She stopped and feigned surprise. "And would you look at that," she said, pointing into an adjoining room. "Your bed is all the way over there, in a whole separate room of its own! Well I'll be."

Christo rolled onto his back. His face was bruised and badly swollen from the beatings. Rivulets of blood crisscrossed his face, both dried and fresh. He struggled to hold himself upright enough to see Lindroos as she paced around him.

"It must be nice to live amid all this luxury. So I'll tell you what," she said. "I'll let you keep living, and you can even keep all of these wonderful possessions, if you just tell me where that bottle is."

Christo coughed again, struggling to breathe, spitting blood and goo onto his soiled shirt. When he regained his composure, he glared up into her eyes and slowly shook his head.

"No," he said with a raspy voice.

Lindroos knelt in front of him. She grabbed the duke by his collar and lifted him to her face. "I've been more than patient with you, Ramas," she said in a cool, metered voice. "But this is the last time I will ask you." She pulled a dagger from her boot and held it against his throat. "Last chance now. Where… is…my… bottle?"

Christo looked up at the blackguard with hatred plain on his face. He held her stare for a moment, then he shifted his gaze, breaking eye contact. His expression softened, and he dropped his head.

"You win," he said. "It's in the next room, behind a false wall, behind the bed." He pointed with his chin.

Lindroos smiled wide and dropped the duke to the floor. "It's about time," she said, turning and heading into the adjoining room.

Regdar pulled his greatsword out of the last janni. The creature convulsed then fell silent.

Waving his hand over his shoulder, he led the way into the palace. They wound through a series of long, stone hallways, then up a flight of stairs. Deep in the center of the palace, taking up almost a quarter of the second floor, they came to the duke's personal chambers.

Regdar slipped quietly through the open door with Alhandra close behind him and the others behind her. Inside, a huge, canopied bed dominated the floor. A painting of King Ramas hung behind it. At its foot, a set of double doors opened into a second room. Regdar heard a voice, and he held his finger up to his lips, further silencing the already quiet crowd.

Peeking around the corner of the open double doors, the big fighter saw the duke lying on his back-his face bloodied and bruised, his eyes swollen and narrow. Next to him knelt Lindroos. She held him by his collar.

"I've been more than patient with you, Ramas," she said. "But this is the last time I will ask you." She pulled a dagger from her boot and held it against his throat. "Last chance now. Where…is… my… bottle?"

The duke looked up at her, then he looked away. Regdar leaned out a little farther, catching the duke's gaze. When they made eye contact, the big fighter nodded.

The duke's eyes widened for a flash, then he dropped his head.

"You win," he said to Lindroos. "It's in the next room, behind a false wall, behind the bed."

Lindroos let go of the duke and stood up.

Regdar pulled back, hiding himself behind the doorframe. Alhandra stood right behind him, and he nudged her in the ribs, looking over his shoulder to give her a nod.

"It's about time," said the blackguard.

Regdar held his sword over his head, the tip pointed to the ground, both hands wrapped around the hilt. He took a deep breath and waited. His heart was pounding so loud in his ears he couldn't hear anything else.

A flash of black crossed into his field of view. Regdar heaved downward with every bit of magically enhanced strength he could muster. He heard himself roar as his greatsword descended. The tip hit metal and punched right through. He forced more strength behind the strike, and his feet lifted off the ground with the force of the blow.

Regdar's attack knocked Lindroos to the floor. His sword stabbed right through the blackguard's shoulder and into the wooden planking, pinning her to the floor like a giant bug.

Alhandra sidestepped Regdar and lifted her holy blade into the air.

"Heironeous, grant me the power to smite the wicked!" she shouted, and her blade sliced down on Lindroos's neck.

The blackguard's helm clanked on the ground as her head rolled free of her shoulders.

Alhandra stared down at the body of her dead sister. "And may you see it in your heart to have pity on those who have fallen from grace," she said, finishing her prayer.