Pervor stood in the doorway, admiring his queen’s determination. Tassin might be too diminutive to ever be considered a warrior queen, but she did not lack courage. She strode towards the mass of fighting men, her soldiers surrounding her in a wall of slashing steel. Tyron’s sword became a silver blur as he hacked and parried, thrust and blocked, bodies piling up at his feet. The sight of the prize spurred the invaders, who fought with renewed vigour, pushing back the defenders. Tyron staggered as a blade slipped under his guard from behind, piercing his armour. Even the best swordsman could not hope to win against so many.
The advisor had spent a sleepless night pondering his best course of action, torn between obeying his queen and his late king. She was determined to die rather than marry a man she hated, while King Litham had only wanted his daughter to be safe and happy. Pervor was reluctant to unleash Manutim’s magical warrior because Tassin would, in all likelihood, hate him for interfering and, if all did not go well, probably have him executed for disobedience. A slight hope that she would see reason when confronted with the battle’s bloody slaughter and accept one of the kings had kept him in check, but she clearly intended to go through with her childish threat to kill herself, or try. The risk to her life was too great. He must take action, no matter what the consequences.
Pervor turned and descended the stairs. In the corridor, scurrying, terrified servants dived into doorways like hunted rabbits. A wailing lady-in-waiting clutched his arm, but he shook her off. He hastened to the dungeons, finding the steps unguarded. Going to the fifth cell, he opened the door.
The strange warrior stood beside the casket, apparently asleep. His eyes opened, staring through the advisor with a chilling lack of expression. Pervor stopped just inside the door. Manutim had instructed him on how to give orders to the warrior, explaining what he called the weapon’s ‘set up’. He had shown Pervor tiny images of the chief advisor and Tassin, and played recordings of their voices, which he had claimed would be used to ensure the weapon recognised them.
Pervor had found the glowing images and disembodied voices somewhat alarming, but his king had ordered him to trust the wizard. The weapon’s human form had surprised him, and he had refrained from trying to persuade Tassin of its true nature, knowing she would find it hard to believe, as, indeed, he did. He did not doubt Manutim’s claim, however, especially when the weapon’s lack of humanity in all respects other than its appearance bore it out so convincingly. He recalled the strange words and manner in which the wizard had directed him to address the warrior.
“Voice recognition confirmation.”
The brow band flashed. “Voice recognition confirmed. You have level three access.”
“Command override input, password, star fall.”
“Acknowledged. Password accepted.”
“Input: new assignment of bodyguard duty to primary command subject Queen Tassin Alrade. I order you to take the Queen from this castle and protect her. No matter what she says, or how much she protests, this order overrides that. In all other things, you will obey her, but you will not leave her side while there is danger, and you will protect her. Do you understand?”
“Understood.”
“Go then!” Pervor motioned to the door. “Hurry!”
The warrior strode out with lithe, gliding steps, and Pervor followed, falling behind as the cyber broke into a lope down the corridor.