S. Turney - Interregnum

Again he grinned. If it weren’t so important, he’d have laughed. Although it’d be inaudible up on the gate in the night breeze and with their crackling brazier, the low susurration of Jorun and Brendan arguing drifted across the grass to where Tythias stood. They were like children at times.

For a few moments more he watched them and then turned his attention to the trees behind them, down towards the water’s edge. There was something eerie about the island tonight. A stiff but warm breeze blew, making the torches on the walls gutter where they burned, and causing whispers among the trees and shrubs that filled the night with imagined conversation. He watched.

And then only a minute or so later, there was a single flash from the top of one of the trees. It could easily have been mistaken for the twinkle of a star or possibly even a distant night fisherman’s boat from the walls, but Tythias knew it for a signal. That would be his little Sathina with her lantern, high in a tree under the watchful eye of his ally and long friend general Caerdin. He smiled. Along time ago he’d served as a Prefect under Marshal Covis and had been on temporary assignment under Caerdin several times. It’d been said that when Avitus became old and moved into politics, Tythias was one of the names that would be considered as the next Marshal, but the Empire plunged into chaos too soon and that time never came. And here he was now, Kiva and he both Mercenary captains with more than two decades passed since they served together, but it was astounding how naturally it came trusting to the man’s leadership and taking orders from him. With a sigh of genuine satisfaction, he glanced over at the other two crouching in the bushes. They were so busy arguing they hadn’t seen the signal. With a grin Tythias picked up a small pebble and took aim.

The stone bounced off Brendan’s shoulder and he spun around to see Tythias behind a tree gesturing wildly back towards the sea and then up at the gate. With a nod, he crouched lower and whispered to Jorun and a second later, the two broke cover and ran for the gatehouse. Tythias ducked out from the tree and ran with them.

“Keep your mind on your work you two!”

The three of them disappeared under the arch and Tythias pointed to Jorun and at a small door that led to the gate’s small guard room. It may be unoccupied but there was light shining out from under the door and enemies should not be left behind you. Jorun nodded and stepped to one side of the door, drawing a heavy mace from his belt. Tythias and Brendan didn’t stop to sightsee and the only evidence of Jorun’s activities was a brief distant crunching noise as they moved quietly up the steps to the next level.

The first floor of the gatehouse had a long table and a number of chairs, but they were rotten and ancient and largely unusable. The dust remained undisturbed except around the periphery, so no one used this level and probably the next one except to move between the ground and the wall walk.

Sure enough the third level was dusty, deserted and entirely unfurnished. The two rebels spared the room only a cursory glance as they passed through, up the final flight of stairs and out onto the roof of the gatehouse. The two huge drum towers of the Water Gate were connected by a central walkway, with stairs down from each tower onto the wall itself. Tythias had watched the roof for several minutes while waiting for the signal and had counted only three men. Three unprepared men.

The scarred mercenary captain was first out of the doorway, his straight sword with the serrated section of blade close to the hilt held forward and ready. There were in fact four men on the gate, one of whom had remained seated and hidden from the ground. Despite Caerdin’s order, he came to a halt several feet from where the four stood and sat around a brazier warming their hands. Moments later, Brendan came scraping to a halt beside him, his own sword out and paired with a long dagger in the other hand.

“One chance… that’s all” the captain of the Lion Riders announced clearly, if quietly. “Surrender and no one has to die.”

It was a hopeless gesture as far as Brendan was concerned and, as the men rose, their hands going to their weapons, the shaven-headed mercenary leapt forward. The seated man, struggling to his feet with his sword half-drawn was the first casualty. Brendan’s knife plunged through the back of the chair, pinning the stunned man to the wood. Letting the knife go, he spun round, his sword flashing as the second man finally freed his weapon. The two blades met with the ring of metal and a few sparks. Beside him, Tythias had leapt for the other two. Brendan fought like a maniac, his blade hammering across and down at the guardsman. The man was good and despite his surprise he was holding his own. Stepping back, the bald mercenary grinned and made a beckoning gesture. Behind the man he saw Tythias’ sword rammed deep into another guardsman’s chest and even he winced at the noise as the captain withdrew the blade and the serrated section sawed through bone on its way out.

The guard, growling, leapt forward at Brendan, his blade flickering. The mercenary grinned all the more as he turned the dancing blade easily aside each blow.

“We’re fightin’, not pissin’ about!”

The guard came on again and, as his blade flicked again toward Brendan’s shoulder, he ducked to one side and brought his foot down very heavily on the guardsman’s knee. There was an eye-watering crunch and the man collapsed to the floor whimpering. He opened his mouth to scream and the burly mercenary brought the pommel of his sword down on the top of the man’s skull with another unpleasant crack. The body went limp.

Brendan looked up to see that the fourth man had surrendered and Tythias had given him cord with which the man was already tying his own legs tightly. The burly mercenary grinned as the captain glanced over at him.

“Is that one dead?” Tythias asked.

Brendan shrugged. “Dunno. Hang on.”

With a grunt, he lifted the body, the lower leg dangling at unnatural angles and, with a step backward, tipped him over the parapet.

“I’d say yes, at a guess.”

Tythias grinned and turned as Jorun burst through the doorway at the top.

“Ack! ah-ah-ah.”

Tythias nodded sympathetically and pointed at the man busy tying his own legs together. “Make sure this little prick is very securely tied and gagged and then you and Brendan get going. I’ll see you at the Gorgon Gate.”

Jorun nodded and Tythias made for the stairs onto the wall. At the last moment, he looked back at Brendan. “And don’t try to make him fly. He surrendered.”

The burly mercenary gave him an exceedingly innocent grin and then trotted over to join Jorun. Tythias turned once more and jogged down to the wall. “Gods help the Empire with those two running amok together!”

Prince Ashar moved through the shadow of the Arch of the Four Seasons without a sound. He dropped back against the wall and scanned the Ibis Courtyard. Empty. Lifting his hands to his face he called out with the sound of an owl and was answered from all around with the sounds of night-time wildlife. Six. Six men in the courtyard. Ashar was proud of his men and wondered how many guardsmen had met an unfortunate end before they’d all made it here. He waited again for a moment and watched as the door to the Raven Palace opened and a number of the islanders exited with Sarios, Mercurias and his own doctor among them. The Prince moved quietly out of the shadow and made three barely perceptible movements with his hand as he trotted lightly across the stone. Figures melted out of the shadows all around the courtyard. Two came towards the door the islanders had just left, converging with their Prince. The others unhooked already prepared grapple lines from various places around the decorative stonework and began to climb. Ashar and his two assistants dropped back against the wall as Sarios led the islanders past. Neither the minister nor any of his fellows made any sign they’d noticed the black-clad assassins. Ashar nodded. They were being watched then.