Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [6]
Triumph blazed inside her, and her head lifted higher in renewed confidence. This man served her. No matter what he said, he was her protector.
The soldiers parted at his approach. Even Balter stepped back. Caelan strode past Vysal, then past Elandra without glancing at her. A few feet short of the emperor, he stopped and stood towering over Kostimon, fierce, proud, and grim.
The emperor stepped back. “Who are you? How dare you bring a drawn sword into my presence? Hovet—”
Kostimon’s voice choked off abruptly. He glared a moment, his jaw working. Chagrin warred with anger in his face.
Then his gaze snapped to General Paz. “Who is this man? How dare he speak to me unbidden?”
The general glared at Captain Vysal. “Identify this man at once.”
“You know me,” Caelan said before Vysal could respond. Caelan’s gaze never left the emperor’s. His youthful strength and vigor made Kostimon look shrunken and almost feeble.
Glaring, Caelan said, “You know by what right I speak unbidden. I brought your Majesty warning of this attack, and you heeded it not. I told your Majesty the Madruns were coming, and you ignored me. You had time to send for your armies, but you did not. I told your Majesty there were traitors close to you, men who would open the secret ways of the palace to your enemies. You sat and did nothing. Nothing, until now when your throne has been shattered and your palace burns. Your Imperial Guard has been massacred, and you bleat like the coward you are.”
The emperor’s face turned nearly as white as his hair. He glared at Caelan. “That is your death sentence, knave! You cannot talk so and live. Sergeant! Kill this man, who dares insult me to my face!”
Elandra drew in a sharp breath. She wanted to cry out in protest, but she dared not speak. Violence glowered in the faces about her. Every man’s hand gripped the hilt of his weapon. The wrong move, the wrong word would set off a fight like a torch thrown among straw.
“Sergeant!” Kostimon roared. “Kill him!”
Baiter did not move. He stood at attention, as rigid as stone.
Silence spread over them all, broken only by the soft jingle of bridles and the stamping of the horses. None of the guardsmen moved. Captain Vysal’s fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword until his knuckles were white, but not even he drew his sword.
Kostimon looked around at them all, his face strained and disbelieving. “Is this how I am served?” he asked hoarsely. “In my final hours, is this the loyalty I command?”
“Majesty,” Baiter replied, “lead us honorably and we will serve you honorably.”
A cheer rose from the men.
General Paz cleared his throat and let his gaze slide toward the door. Then he stepped to the emperor’s side and drew his sword. “If no one else will maintain order, then I shall, Majesty. To prove my loyalty to you, I shall kill this knave as you have commanded.”
“No!” Vysal called, but too late.
Paz launched himself at Caelan with a swing of his sword. Although Caelan stood with his own weapon drawn, he was not in a fighting stance. Nor did he look prepared for the sudden attack.
Watching in horror, Elandra choked off a scream.
But Caelan was not run through. At seemingly the very last moment before Paz’s sword struck him, he shifted his feet—quick and light—and swung up his sword to meet the general’s.
Steel hit steel with a resounding clang. Two quick exchanges, and Caelan’s sword tip flashed swiftly.
The general’s sword went flying across the floor ... with the general’s hand still attached to it.
Now Elandra did scream, her cry rising with the general’s own.
Paz stood there transfixed, staring at the stump of his right wrist. Blood spurted freely.
Shuddering,