Jon Sprunk - Shadow’s Lure

“With your permission, Majesty,” the major said. “I would accompany you to safety.”

“Of course,” she replied as they hurried her away.

Her last view of the throne room was of Duke Mormaer drawing a huge sword from an ornate scabbard while his soldiers fanned out with weapons readied. Josey’s silk shoes made a soft patter on the floor as she jogged to keep up with her escorts. Their flight reminded her of the night she had been whisked through these corridors by Ral and Markus during their insane bid for the throne. That feeling was reinforced as they turned a corner and passed through the wide chamber that had once been a trophy room. Even though the room had been converted into a sewing nook with cushioned chairs and placid arrays, she breathed easier when they were well past it.

Captain Drathan took a lamp from the sewing room and led them into the east wing of the palace. Scaffolds and tarps covered the walls, and crates were stacked in the available niches-all part of Hubert’s pet project to turn this wing into new apartments for the palace’s many servants. As they came to another intersection, Ozmond and Captain Drathan turned down opposite corridors.

“This way,” the captain said. “There is a postern leading to the north bailey.”

Ozmond gestured down the other hallway. “We should get the empress back upstairs to the imperial suite. There are stairs this way.”

Captain Drathan shook his head. “Upstairs is no good. For all we know, the upper levels are in the hands of the assassins.”

“There is only one assassin,” Ozmond said, “and he is occupied in the throne room with Duke Mormaer. The empress would be safer-”

“Gentlemen.” Josey cut them both off. “I’m right here.” When they quieted, she said, “Ozmond, I appreciate your concerns, but this is the captain’s area of expertise. Captain Drathan, if you would-”

“Pardon,” Major Volek said. “But if I may interrupt.”

Josey looked past the tall officer. The corridor they had just come down was pitch black and silent. Gooseflesh prickled her forearms. “Yes, Major?”

Major Volek pointed down the opposite hallway. “If we proceed straight, I believe we will arrive at the east guard tower, where more reinforcements may be found.”

Captain Drathan nodded. “He’s right.”

“Let’s go, then,” she said.

Captain Drathan sent the two guardsmen ahead while he and Ozmond flanked Josey, with Major Volek bringing up the rear. They navigated the corridor around several turns, and then stopped before a blank wall. Blocks of chiseled granite lay beside buckets and trowels, and other masonry tools. The bitter odor of lime hung in the air.

“I don’t-” Captain Drathan began, only to have his words cut off by a grunt.

Josey turned. The lamp clattered on the floor, somehow staying alight as the captain fell to his knees. He turned away as he collapsed, revealing the back of his uniform, drenched with blood. Major Volek’s helmet bounced off into the darkness as he crumpled beside the captain. The two guardsmen pushed past Josey to take up positions between her and the unseen source of the attacks. Something flashed in the lamp’s feeble light, too fast for her to see. One soldier collapsed where he stood; the other was jerked into the darkness as if he were a puppet. Horrible screams filled the corridor, and then died away.

Josey stepped back from the corpses. The fallen guardsman had rolled over onto his back; ribbons of bloody sinew trailed from the gap where his throat had been. She put both hands on her stomach. Terror coursed through her as she considered the fate of her child. No ! I will not allow this to happen. Caim, why aren’t you here when we need you?

Fingernails biting into her palms, Josey held her breath. She almost sobbed as Ozmond drew the rondel at his hip and stepped in front of her. When he made to approach the darkness, Josey grabbed his arm.

“Don’t!” she whispered.

“Majesty, we cannot remain here.”

“I know. Just a moment…”

She let her words drift away as a shape moved at the lamplight’s edge. At first she thought it was Duke Mormaer, but even a brief glance revealed that the figure was far too large. Its shoulders spanned the width of the corridor. Yellow flames danced in its bulging eyes. It was coming for her.

Josey didn’t have time to be frightened. One moment Ozmond stood before her. Then talons flashed, and he was slumped against the wall, blood pouring from a row of parallel slashes ripped down the front of his coat. His mouth moved, but no sounds came forth. She read the words formed by his lips.

Forgive me.

Tears filled her eyes. This was her fault. She had no right to put these brave men in danger. She was nothing, no one… I am the Empress of Nimea. The words rose from the depths of her soul. She wanted to cast them aside and reject them, but she couldn’t. Not even in the face of death. Josey met the assassin’s glowing eyes as she reached under her gown. Her fingers closed around the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. I am descended from kings and warriors, queens and protectors of the people. If you desire my death, come seek it.

She drew the knife, and almost dropped it as a brilliant glow banished the darkness. The blade shined like a white-hot iron. Josey lifted the knife as the creature shambled toward her, and it paused. She was shocked. She had expected it to knock aside her tiny weapon and take off her head. Yet it held back. As if troubled by the knife…

She advanced a step. The monstrosity held its ground, but did she see a hesitation in its manner? She didn’t know why her knife was glowing, but she wasn’t going to give up any advantage she could find. If the creature was bothered by the strange light, then she would use it. Josey took another step. The assassin swiped at her with its curved claws. She lunged behind the point of her blazing stiletto, but a gust of hot air buffeted her to the floor an instant before a crackling burst of blue-white light filled the hallway.

Huddled against the newly constructed wall, Josey smelled powdered stone and quicklime. Two dark shapes loomed over her. She didn’t cry out, not even to spit in the face of her enemies. Two shapes?

Her vision cleared over a span of several heartbeats to reveal Hubert and Hirsch standing over her, the adept leaning on her lord chancellor. Beyond them, Captain Drathan and the major sat against a wall. There was no sign of the assassin. Josey placed a hand over her abdomen. Was the baby hurt? She wished she could know. Please be all right, little one. Everything is fine now. But was it? She felt like this nightmare was never going to end.

“Where is it?”

“Gone,” Hirsch answered. His voice was wan, and he looked terrible.

Josey’s palms stung a little where the skin was scraped, but otherwise she felt fine. Then she saw Ozmond. Both hands pressed to his bloody chest, he looked over at her and smiled. Before she could make the order, Major Volek stood up, shook himself off, and volunteered to find a physician. Once he was gone and Ozmond had been made as comfortable as possible, Josey looked over as Master Hirsch picked up her knife from the floor. The blade shimmered in his hands.

“My knife…”

“I enspelled it,” Hirsch said, “using the skin samples we obtained by the river. I wasn’t sure if it would be effective against the creature. Evidently, it is.”

She had trouble focusing on what was being said. “What?”

“Majesty,” Hubert said. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m all… fine. Where did the monster go?”

Hirsch shook his head. “It got away. I gave him a blast in the hindquarters he’ll not forget, but the thing has more lives than a Hestrian moorcat.”