They both hit the back wall beside the tapestry and recoiled to the floor. Magiere rolled blindly away and scrambled to her feet.
The tapestry swayed wildly, and Leesil was gone. Omasta climbed to his feet to face her.
Only three soldiers were still conscious. Chap rolled on the floor with one. Emel still battered steel with another in the corner who wouldn't give up, though the man made no headway in getting clear of the baron. Omasta tried to rush for the tapestry. Magiere slashed across his path with the falchion's tip. The lieutenant backed away.
"Move!" he yelled.
"Leesil is trying to protect Darmouth," she snarled back.
Omasta glanced to his left. The first soldier who'd assaulted Leesil lay huddled on the floor with his side split open.
Magiere's last hope faded. Omasta would never believe her.
Emel sliced his opponent neatly across the right shoulder, and the guard dropped his blade, crying out. The baron followed with his fist, and the man twisted and dropped to the floor. Chap had bitten both wrists of the soldier he fought, and the man retreated against the table, weaponless, as the dog snarled every time he tried to move.
The guard Magiere had bludgeoned twice was rising again at the table's far end. Emel raised his boot and stomped the man down.
Omasta saw all this and seemed appalled by Emel's actions. He looked back at the tapestry and Magiere.
"Don't," she warned. "It's over. You have to believe what I told you."
He inched forward. There was no fear in his eyes, but he didn't come at her immediately. "Move, Magiere… now."
She didn't want to hurt him, and it was clear he'd rather not harm her. She had to keep him back if Leesil was to protect an entire province.
Magiere mirrored Omasta's slightest move. His face filled with anger. This time he swung hard. When she blocked, the force between their blades made them both stumble. Magiere's frustration became rage, and her vision sharpened.
The room brightened before her as the ache filled her jaws.
Omasta hesitated as he looked her in the eyes.
Magiere feinted with the sword, and he caught it on his own blade. At the instant of contact, she lunged low.
Her shoulder caught below his rib cage, and she drove him back into the wall. He slammed against the stone, and she hopped back before he could rake her with his shortsword. One of his feet slipped, but he didn't fall. He grunted and swung at her. Magiere twisted aside and brought her blade down on top of his.
Both swords' tips hit the floor, and the impact of steel on stone echoed off the walls. She stomped down on his blade, rising up on her own force with her fist cocked back. Omasta stumbled as his weapon jerked from his grip. Magiere struck downward, sinking her weight into the blow.
Her fist cracked down the side of his face and collarbone, and Omasta crumpled, unmoving.
The only guard still standing was Chap's. Emel grabbed him by the throat and pounded his saber's hilt into the man's forehead.
Panting, with hunger burning her insides, all Magiere could do was shove the tapestry aside and assume the others would follow.
Darmouth fled down the stairs from the council hall to the old sergeant's office. One moment he'd been eating supper with Omasta in the safety of his own stronghold, and now his keep was breached by the one traitor who'd ever escaped him.
He'd never forgotten. When Leesil hadn't been found, anger grew inside of Darmouth like consumption. He couldn't abide such a useful tool in service to anyone else, most particularly any other province ruler in the
Warlands. Emel was in league with this half-blood. Darmouth was surrounded by betrayal, with only Omasta to depend on. He slapped the old tapestry aside at the bottom of the stairwell and emerged into the old sergeant's office.
There were his wolfhounds asleep on the floor. Kana, the tallest, raised his head and blinked, looking dazed and tired. With no time to stop, Darmouth hurried out the door into the storage area. He headed straight through the archway for his family's crypt.
The Hall of Traitors had the heaviest door in the keep.
Darmouth pulled out the key to unlock the ornate door, but he fumbled for a moment. Once it was open, he stepped inside.
Warm orange light washed over him from small braziers on the columns that were always kept lit for the dead. There were iron braces on each side of the door, and he reached for the oak bar resting against the wall. The door swung sharply inward, catching his shoulder, and Darmouth stumbled back.
He caught himself on his father's crypt, and his shoulder throbbed from the impact.
Leesil-that mongrel traitor-stood in the doorway, panting.
He looked like some mad creature out of the forested hills below the mountains. His hood was pushed all the way back, and white-blond hair framed a narrow face that glistened with sweat. His amber eyes sparked in the braziers' glow.
Darmouth's rage faltered. He knew what Leesil was capable of.
Leesil took a step into the room, and his gaze shifted between the crypts of Darmouth's father and grandfather. His eyes grew calm.
Many years had passed, and Leesil's face had changed. A strange realization occurred to Darmouth.
He looked so much like his mother… born out of treacherous blood.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shouts and footfalls echoed into the council hall from the main entryway as Magiere headed down the concealed stairway. She heard both Chap and Emel close behind her.
Her eyesight was still sharp in the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs she saw the opening covered by a hanging cloth and swatted it aside. She stepped out into a room with a chair, table, and broken quills. They had returned to the abandoned office adjacent to the storage area.
The two wolfhounds slept near the door. Both dogs looked drained and tired. Magiere ignored them and hurried out into the storage area.
She glanced about, searching for Leesil. Stepping between the piled crates, she saw that the ornate door through the center archway to her right was open.
Leesil stood with his back to her just inside Darmouth's family crypt. And Magiere saw the tyrant beyond two raised stone coffins.
The sight brought only partial relief. Leesil had cornered Darmouth in a place they could secure. They need only lock the warlord in and wait for the keep's contingent to eventually flush out the Anmaglahk. But Magiere wasn't about to leave Leesil in there alone. She reached the center archway, only steps from the door.
Two gray forms dropped from the ceiling inside the crypt and landed to the outsides of each coffin.
Magiere froze. Both were dressed alike in tied-up cloaks, cowls, and face wraps a color between charcoal gray and forest green. The one to the right was taller than Darmouth.
Anmaglahk. They'd been waiting there. Somehow they'd known Darmouth would come to this place.
The sound of distant voices and feet echoed from the north and south stairwells. Magiere couldn't tell if they came this way or not, and there was no time to make certain. If Darmouth's soldiers interfered, trying to take Leesil, she wasn't sure how far these elves would go to finish their mission. The soldiers' misguided efforts would make things worse.
Magiere glanced at Emel and Chap coming up behind her. The color in Emel's face drained when he looked past her and into the crypt.
"Keep out anyone who comes down," she said, and hoped the two of them could.
"Wait-" Emel began.
Magiere darted inside the crypt and slammed the door shut. The last things she saw as it closed were Chap's perked ears and astonished face.
All eyes in the room flicked toward her once.