The Crown Conspiracy

The princess gladly threw her arms around the thief’s shoulders and squeezed tight, as much out of fear as for safety.

“You might have actually made it,” the dwarf said, “and for that you have my respect, but you must understand I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t have someone walking around boasting they escaped one of my traps.” Then without warning, he abruptly closed the door, sealing them in.

-- 10 --

Hadrian heard the wail of a horn as he faced Braga in the corridor of the royal residence. “I think it will be quite some time until Wylin and the castle guards arrive,” he taunted the archduke. “I suspect the master-at-arms has more on his mind than responding to the demands of an earl from Warric to report to the royal residence when his castle is being stormed.”

“Mores the pity for you as I no longer have the luxury of keeping you alive,” Braga said as he lunged once more.

He swiped at Hadrian with lightning fast cuts. Hadrian danced away from Braga retreating farther and farther down the hall. The archduke showed perfect form, his weight centered on his back foot while only the toe of his front foot touched the ground, his back straight, his sword arm outstretched, and his other arm raised in an elegant bent L. Even the fingers of his free hand were elegantly posed as if they were holding up an invisible wine glass. His long black hair, peppered with lines of gray, cascaded down to his shoulders, and not a trace of perspiration was on his brow.

Hadrian in contrast acted clumsy and unsure. The Melengar sword was far inferior to any of his own blades. The tip wavered as he tried to hold it steady with both hands. He inched backward working to keep a distance between them.

The archduke lunged again. Hadrian parried and then dove past Braga, barely avoiding a return slice, which nicked a wall sconce. He took the opportunity to run down the hallway and slipped into the chapel. “Are we playing hide-and-seek now?” Braga goaded.

Braga entered and crossed swiftly to the altar where Hadrian stood. When the archduke swung at him, Hadrian stepped back, ducked a swiping stroke, and then leapt clear of a slash. Braga’s attacks glanced off the statue of Novron and Maribor, taking part of the god’s first three fingers off. Hadrian now stood before the wooden lectern, keeping his eyes on the archduke while he awaited the next attack.

“It’s so poetic of you to choose to die in the same room as the king,” Braga said. He swung right, and Hadrian glanced the stroke aside. Braga pivoted on his back foot and swung his sword overhead in a powerful, downward stroke. Expecting this attack, counting on it, Hadrian dove and slid across the polished marble floor on his stomach in the direction of the chapel door.

Hadrian got to his feet and turned in time to see Braga’s stroke had sliced into the vertical grain of the lectern. His swing had been so forceful that the blade was now wedged in the wood and the archduke struggled to free it. Taking advantage of his distraction, Hadrian ran to the door, slipped out, and closed it behind him. Driving his sword into the jam, he wedged it shut.

“That should hold you for a while,” Hadrian said to himself, pausing to catch his breath.

-- 11 --

“That little worm!” Arista spat through clenched teeth at the closed door.

The tower shuddered again, and this time larger pieces fell. One block of stone plummeted down, taking out a step only a few feet from them. Both shattered on impact and fell into the abyss of the tower’s foundation. With the loss of those blocks, the tower came free and began to twist and topple.

“Hang on!” Royce shouted as he pushed off the step. The two flew across the gap to the door. He grabbed hold of the large iron door ring, and they each found footholds on the ledge of the door jam.

“He locked it,” Royce informed her. He looped one arm through the door ring and removed his lock-picking tools from his belt. With his free hand, he worked the lock. A deep, resonating thunder shook the castle, and suddenly the rope tied to Royce went slack. The thief dropped his tools and pulled out his dagger. He cut the rope around his waist just as the stone slab attached to it passed them heading down. The rest of the tower was collapsing now.

Royce drove his dagger deep into the wooden door for another handhold as the tower fell around them. Walls hollowed out by the dwarf, splintered into shards, which burst and flew in all directions. Rocks and stone pummeled them as Royce and Arista cowered under the scant protection of the narrow stone arch of the doorframe.

A fist-size stone struck Arista’s back. She lost her tenuous foothold, and screamed as she fell. In an instant, Royce grabbed her. Grasping blindly, he caught the back of her dress and a substantial amount of hair. “I can’t hold you!” he shouted.