Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [162]
Acronis waved that aside.
“The ogre fleet has been sighted?”
“Yes, Legate. Where is Zahakis?”
Acronis shook his head. “I sent him away—”
A bellowing shout thundered through the villa. The shout was accompanied by the clash of arms and more shouting. Zahakis was yelling a warning to the Legate.
“I think we’ve found Zahakis,” said Skylan. “Or rather, your assassins have found him.”
Acronis stood with his sword in his hand staring at it as though he was not quite certain what it was.
“Zahakis is a good warrior,” said Skylan. “But he can’t stand against six men alone.”
Acronis’s gaze shifted to the still figure on the bed.
“I can’t leave her,” he said.
“I will stay with your daughter,” said Semelon.
Skylan turned, startled to see the priestess standing in the doorway. Aylaen came running up behind her, panting, “I tried to stop her—”
“Go help Keeper with the horses,” Skylan ordered. “And find Wulfe. We can’t have him running loose!”
Aylaen hesitated a moment, then ran off.
Semelon walked inside the room and looked down on the bed. She smoothed back the hair from the girl’s cold, pale brow. “I see her spirit in a great hall filled with light and laughter and music. Somewhere, she is dancing.”
Acronis and Skylan looked at each other in astonishment. But there was no time for wonder, or even for Skylan to thank Torval. The sounds of battle were growing louder. Zahakis continued to shout. Acronis bent to kiss his daughter.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I will not shame you.”
He flung open the door and ran out into the hallway, heading for the sound of clashing swords. Acronis looked extremely startled to find Skylan running alongside him.
“This isn’t your fight,” said Acronis as they ran down first one hall, then another. Moonlight streamed through the windows.
“Oddly enough, it is,” said Skylan, making a hasty sidestep to avoid falling in the fish pond.
The clashing steel, more shouts, and a low, gurgling scream ended further talk. Acronis slowed his pace. He raised his hand, cautioning Skylan to keep to the shadows and move silently.
The door to the villa stood wide open. Steel blades flashed in the moonlight. Zahakis stood with his back braced against the wall, swinging his sword slowly back and forth, the tip shifting from one to another of his foes, who were ranged around him.
The marble floor was slippery with blood and gore. The screaming was coming from a man writhing on the floor trying desperately to keep his bowels from spilling out of his gut. He was the only man down, though not the only man wounded. One assassin had blood streaming down his face; another was limping from a slash mark in his thigh.
The five guards still standing exchanged glances. They were going to rush Zahakis. Skylan gave a shout to draw their attention and ran into the entryway with Acronis at his side. The two converged on the guardsmen, who were thrown into confusion by their new foes threatening death from behind.
One slipped in the blood and went down. Skylan kicked him in the head and drove his sword into the unprotected armpit of another. Skylan jerked his blade free and whipped around, sword raised, to discover that the fight was over. Three lay dead or dying. The other two were running for their lives.
Skylan pictured this cowardly lot facing seasoned ogre warriors. No wonder the Priest-General wanted Treia to summon a dragon to do his fighting for him!
“Are you all right, Legate?” Zahakis asked.
“Yes, thanks to you. And our pradus.” Acronis smiled at Skylan. “I would grant you freedom in return for saving my life, young man, but you appear to already have it.”
He paused, rubbed his eyes, and said softly, “The night seems a terrible dream. Did you tell me something about ogres invading our city?”
“What’s this about ogres?” Zahakis asked, alarmed.
“The fleet has been sighted,” said Skylan. “They may already be sailing into the bay.”
“Legate,” said Zahakis urgently, “you and I should go—”
“And do what, Tribune?” Acronis asked with a weary shrug. “The triremes are in the boat