Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [161]
Skylan and his companions cut through the atrium, taking the shortest route to the armory and the stables, which ran through a narrow passage that separated the kitchen and the bakery. Due to the risk of fire, the large ovens with their roaring fires were kept separate from the main house, yet close enough to the kitchen so that the cook had ready access. A stone archway covered the passage. They were beneath this archway, in its shadows, when both Keeper and Skylan came to a sudden halt.
Skylan’s braced arm stopped Aylaen and Wulfe. Keeper grabbed the priestess, putting his huge hand over her mouth.
From this part of the villa, they had a good view of the paved road that led up the hill. The road was to their left. The barracks, the stables, and the armory ahead on their right. The main part of the villa and the atrium were behind them.
Six men wearing the uniforms of the Temple Guard came riding up the highway. They rode swiftly and brazenly, not bothering to keep to the shadows. Each man carried a naked sword, blades shining in the moonlight.
“Have they come for us?” Aylaen whispered.
Skylan shook his head. “Raegar thinks we’re lying dead in the catacombs. They’re here for the Legate.”
The men galloped past never looking their direction. They were heading for the front entrance. They had nothing to fear. No soldiers would be there to stop them. Seeing them gave Skylan an idea.
“Aylaen,” said Skylan, “stay here with Wulfe and the Priestess. Keeper, go fetch horses and weapons and enough armor to make us look like the Legate’s soldiers. I’ll meet you around at the front of the villa.”
Aylaen caught hold of him. Her eyes were gray in the moonlight and bright with anger.
“You’re going to save him, aren’t you? You’re going to risk your life to save him—the man who made us slaves!? Leave him to his fate.”
“I would,” Skylan said, “but I need him.”
He ran off, retracing his steps through the atrium. As he ran, he calculated the amount of time it would take the soldiers to reach the front of the villa. They would have to dismount and gain entrance through a locked door. Once inside, they would lose time searching the large house for Acronis, whereas Skylan knew exactly where to find him.
He went to the lighted room and flung wide the door that led from the atrium. The flames of the oil lamps wavered and danced as the night air rushed inside with him. The still, pale figure lay on the bed. Chloe’s body had been washed and perfumed. Her hair was brushed and arranged around her face. Her hands lay folded on her chest. Her eyes were closed. Her expression was peaceful, with even the hint of a smile.
Skylan looked about for Acronis and could not find him. He knew he could not be mistaken. A father’s loving hands had brushed her hair and composed her body. Then Skylan heard a sound coming from the far end of the room.
Acronis was attempting to position his sword so that the hilt rested against the wall and the point pressed into his breast. Once he had the weapon set, all he had to do was lunge forward to drive the blade into his chest.
“Would you shame her?” Skylan asked.
Acronis jerked. The sword slipped. He caught it as it fell.
“Get out,” he said harshly. “Or better yet, hold this damn sword. You don’t have to do anything. Just stand there—”
“I don’t have to do that much,” said Skylan. “Six men with six swords are coming to kill you right now. And if you survive them, you can always die fighting the army of ogres that is about to descend on your city. At least if you are murdered, your daughter would not be ashamed to know that her father is a craven coward.”
“Ogres,” said Acronis in astonishment.
“And