In unison, the black-armored guards silently unsheathed their own slightly curved, single-edged blades. Ghostlike, they assumed fighting stances.
Marcellus stood protectively in front of Nyori. The gathered nobles gasped and drew back, unwilling to leave despite the threat of violence.
Nyori heard other swords unsheathe behind her. A ring of grim-faced knights of Kaerleon joined Marcellus with naked swords in their fists.
"Have you lily-gutted excuses for soldiers gone mad?" Harlin's jowls shook in his fury. "You dare to call yourselves king's men, drawing steel in my presence? Sheathe your swords and report to your captains for punishment. That is an order!"
The men said nothing, though a few shifted uncomfortably. Josef's face had hardened to the mask of the warrior as he shouldered his way to the front of the knights. "The king replaces us with these foreign men from lands no one has seen, milord. They are not to be trusted!"
Marcellus stared at Harlin. "The sanctity of Kaerleon is above all things. Even his Majesty. You will take me to him, Harlin. Or men will start to die right now."
Harlin looked at all the bared weapons. He licked his lips nervously. "Wait for a moment, Marcellus. For the grace of Deis, do not shed blood on the king's very doorstep!" He cracked open one of the heavily gilded doors and quickly dashed inside.
The strange guardsmen silently faced off against the knights of Kaerleon. Despite being outnumbered by about twice their number, they did not seem at all disturbed. Nyori stared at the man in front of them, who looked back with unblinking eyes.
The eyes. They look so familiar…
Marcellus nodded toward the one in front. "Who are you men? Where are you from?"
The man bowed courteously. "We are meigi from Honguo, if it pleases you. I am Shiru, the captain of these men. I have heard of Marcellus Admorran. To meet as men is an honor."
Marcellus nodded in return, for all the world looking as though he were on a social call. He had not even unsheathed his sword. But his eyes — his eyes shimmered with fire begging for a release.
Honguo. Nyori realized why they seemed familiar. Their eyes had the same almond shape as Han, the young man she met with Rhanu and his band of bounty hunters in the wilds. Why such foreigners where hired out in Kaerleon was beyond her, but her questions where interrupted as the doors opened wide.
"His Majesty the king will see you now, Sir Admorran." Harlin spoke gravely, as though to salvage the dignity he lost earlier. "Only you. Remove your weapon."
Marcellus unbuckled his sword belt and handed it to Dradyn. His face was composed as a portrait. "The lady Nyori is under my protection, Harlin. She will accompany me."
Harlin stiffened. "Did you not hear what I said, Sir Admorran?"
Marcellus' voice conveyed the perfect degree of scorn. "Does a woman unnerve you, Harlin? You think you and your foreign guards cannot contain her?"
Harlin's rubbery lips compressed, and his face reddened. "I am a Doorkeeper for the king, Sir Admorran. Stay your insults; they are beneath you." He nodded to the meigi.
"Make sure you watch the woman."
The meigi fell in behind them as they followed Harlin through the entrance. Nyori felt a presence similar to that at Marcellus' manor as soon as she passed the threshold. Her hand automatically went to the satchel at her belt. Eymunder was hidden there in its reduced size, as Marcellus had warned her the staff would attract unwanted notice.
As the doors closed, Josef spoke in a fierce whisper.
"We are with you, milord!"
The doors slammed with a settling finality.
Chapter 22: Marcellus
Marcellus immediately noticed all the windows were shuttered and barred. The only illumination was the ghostly light from the torches placed in wall sconces about the room. Oil lamps burned as well, casting pale, shuddering light. Shadows quivered everywhere, and Regnault Lucretius was lord of them all.
The shriveled husk of what had once been the greatest king in an Age sat on his throne. The Mace of Kings rested in the crook of his arm, gold and gleaming, tipped at the top of its crown with a glittering lunestone. Lucretius had lost the weight of health and perched upon his throne like an ungainly stork. It was as if the true king had long since died, but his skeleton still wore his flesh and pressed on. Despite the fury inside, Marcellus could not help a swell of pity for the man he had all but worshiped. Lucretius was the father he never had, the great king he and the entire kingdom adored.
"I should have known." Lucretius' smile disappeared beneath the swath of his unkempt beard. "I should have known you would return despite all the odds against you. You always return, Marcellus. You never fail."
Marcellus grated his words out between clenched teeth. "The Companions are slain. Jaslin — my brother, my best man was slain. My wife — my wife and child are dead! You sent me on a fool's errand, Regnault, and you will tell me why."
Lucretius' flesh was that of a dying man, but his eyes peered at Marcellus in reptilian fashion, full of dark intelligence and cunning.
"Yes." Lucretius smiled at the admission. "I am guilty of these things and more, but there are forces at work that you cannot comprehend. Powers so dark and terrible that I, even the mightiest of kings cannot face."
Marcellus felt the storm build inside of him. "You speak of these wraiths, these akhkharu? Yes, I know of them. I have seen their handiwork, and have slain them with my own hands. You sold your soul and the future of your kingdom to those daemons?"
Lucretius hurled the Mace of Kings across the room, where it struck a priceless display of Destinian porcelain. As the pieces shattered, Lucretius stood and became a powerful specter in the flickering light. The meigi were barely visible, silent shades of men who did not even blink at the explosion of rage.
"You dare to pass judgment upon your king, you who have never borne the burden of lordship? You destroy one or two of the Gifted and think you have won a war. You wretched fool. If you knew what I know, you would tear your own eyes out to stop seeing the black future that awaits; you would slit your own throat to end your agony."
Lucretius' eyes lit so wild that Marcellus took a step back despite himself. The king's voice filled the room, pounding the walls like heavy waves.
"What stands against you is older than time, darker than any shadow, and more powerful than the wind that drives the sea. Who can stand against such? Not the king, Sir Admorran. We are but men. It is not in us to stay the path of gods."
He paused and grimaced sourly. "Yet what is that to you, the Champion of Kaerleon? You see the Gifted as just another enemy to conquer. That is why they ordered your death, you and the faithful Companions who served you."
Nyori stepped close and laid her fingers on Marcellus' arm. "He is one of them," she whispered. "I can sense it."
"And so the Shama reveals herself," Lucretius said as he stepped from the dais. "Your whisper is a shout to my ears, Nyori Sharlin. We have been searching for you. Had we known you would willingly deliver yourself to us, we wouldn't have bothered."
Marcellus stood in front of Nyori. "You speak with a poisoned tongue that flickers from another man's mouth. That is why you shun the sunlight. What did you do with the king? Did Lucretius fight against your control once too often? Is that why you finally slew him and stole his face?"
"You have gone mad, Marcellus." Harlin stepped to Lucretius' side with a hand on the pommel of his poisoned rapier. "Have you come this far only to make wild accusations? Your words are treason. Stand down, or I will kill you."