Rage of a Demon King

  “What’s too late?” said Roo.’

  Sylvia jumped to her feet as Duncan stepped away.

  “Why, cousin,” said Duncan, “I was just trying to convince Miss Esterbrook that she should evacuate.”

  Roo studied the tableau a long moment and slowly drew his sword. “Now I see just how much of a fool I’ve been.”

  “Roo!” said Sylvia. “You can’t think . . . not Duncan and I?”

  Duncan put up his hands in a gesture of conciliation. “Cousin? What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Since this has begun, I have never understood why I could never gain an advantage over Jacob. Now I discover that he’s an agent of Great Kesh and that my own cousin has been feeding my lover information.”

  Duncan looked as if he was going to say something, then suddenly his smile turned to a snarl and he yanked his sword out. “Damn it, I have had enough of this charade.”

  He lashed out. Roo parried, then riposted. Duncan easily avoided the blade.

  Roo said, “That makes two of us.”

  Duncan grinned, and it was an evil, hate-filled expression. “You have no idea how much I’ve looked forward to this moment, cousin. Taking your table leavings, running your errands, while you favored that one-handed Rodezian dog. Well, this will end that insult and I will no longer have to share Sylvia with you.”

  “That’s the way it is, then?”

  “Of course, you idiot!” screamed Sylvia. She rolled off the bed as a flurry of sword blows came perilously close to striking her.

  Duncan said, “My love, I don’t need to kill the fat cow. I’ll kill Rupert here, then I’ll marry Karli. When time enough has passed, we’ll get rid of her and then you can marry me.”

  Rupert struck out with a blow aimed at Duncan’s head, and as Duncan’s sword came up to parry, Roo snapped the blade around to a side attack. Duncan merely turned his wrist, bringing his blade down to catch Roo’s blade. “Nicely done, cousin,” said Duncan. “But you were never my equal with the blade, and you know it. Eventually, you’ll make a mistake and I’ll kill you.”

  Roo said nothing. Hate filled his eyes at the realization of just how badly he had been played for an idiot. He feinted left, then came around from the right with a snapping blow that almost connected with Duncan’s left arm, but the taller swordsman danced nimbly back. “Karli would never marry you, you swine. She hates you.”

  Smiling, Duncan said, “She just doesn’t know me. She doesn’t appreciate my better qualities.” He lashed out with a full extension and almost took Roo in the shoulder. Roo ducked slightly and beat aside his cousin’s blade, then he also tried a thrust, backing Duncan away.

  Sylvia stood behind the bed, in the corner, clutching the curtains. “Kill him, Duncan!” she screamed. “Don’t play with him.”

  Duncan said, “With pleasure,” and suddenly attacked with more speed than Roo would have thought possible.

  Roo did his best to defend, and he found his speed matched his cousin’s, but Duncan was the more experienced swordsman. One advantage Roo had was he had fought a duel to the death only a year before, while Duncan hadn’t faced a serious foe in years. Duncan began to improvise his attacks, and Roo saw his advantage. If he could wear his more skilled cousin down, tire him, he could eventually survive this duel. Roo then set about not to lose, as Duncan closed to kill.

  Back and forth they moved, slashing and thrusting, blocking and parrying. A pair of candles threw dancing shadows across the room as the fury of movement caused the flames to flicker and gutter. The sound of steel on steel brought servants to the door of Sylvia’s room. A wide-eyed maid looked in, and Sylvia screamed, “Get Samuel!”

  Roo knew Samuel, the coachman, was a bull-necked thug of a man, and, now that he knew Jacob worked on behalf of Great Kesh, suspected Samuel might be one of Jacob’s agents. He knew that if Samuel got into the room, Roo would be distracted enough that Duncan would probably kill him.

  Roo tried to look hesitant, and when Duncan took the bait, overextending his attack, Roo launched a furious counteroffensive, forcing his cousin back against the far wall. Then Roo turned and hurried to the door, slamming it shut and throwing the bolt before Duncan could recover. “You’ll have no help for a while, Duncan,” he said, panting from exertion.

  “I don’t need any,” said Duncan and began to stalk Roo across the room. Roo crouched low and waited.

  Sylvia stood motionless in the corner, her face a mask of naked hatred as she watched the two men circle slowly.

  Blows were exchanged, but no injury was done. Each man had the measure of the other; they had spent too many hours practicing with each other. While Duncan might be the better swordsman, Roo had spent more time drilling with him than any other; they were evenly matched.

  Perspiration poured down both men’s faces and drenched their shirts. In the close air of the room on this hot summer night, they were quickly out of breath.

  Back and forth to no advantage, the men fought across the room. Roo watched Duncan closely for any sign he was changing his style or fatiguing. Duncan’s frustration was mounting, for while he had regularly defeated Roo in practice, this time the little man was holding his own, and if anything seemed to be gaining an edge.

  Pounding on the door signaled the arrival of Samuel, the coachman. “Miss!” he cried through the door.

  “I’m being attacked!” she screamed. “Rupert Avery is trying to kill me. His cousin Duncan is defending me. Break down the door!”

  A moment later a thud signaled the assault on the door. The coachman and probably another male servant were throwing their shoulders into the door. Roo knew that the door was heavy oak, locked with an iron throw bolt; he had locked it himself enough times. They would have to find something to use as a ram; their shoulders would give out before the heavy door did.

  Then Roo saw a flicker of movement and realized Sylvia was trying to run across the bed, past him, so she could unlock the door. He leaped backward and snapped a wild blow in her general direction, causing her to shriek and fall back. “Not so fast, my love,” he said. “You and I have accounts to settle.”

  Duncan let out a sound of pure frustration as he lunged and drove Roo back to the side of the bed opposite Sylvia. He glanced at the door as if gauging his chances of opening it. When his gaze flicked to the door, so did Roo’s blade, and a crimson stain spread on Duncan’s white silk shirt, as he took a nick in the right shoulder.

  Roo smiled. He knew that while it was a tiny wound, the blow to Duncan’s vanity was immense. Roo had scored first blood, and Duncan would become even more dangerous and reckless.

  Duncan swore and started to attack Roo as fast as he could, ignoring the door. He pushed Roo back to the corner, then lunged at him with a move designed to skewer the shorter man. Roo had anticipated the move, knowing that Duncan would follow his usual style and come at him angling toward Roo’s right. The practice over the years had revealed Roo’s tendency to move toward his own right when dodging. Roo knew Duncan knew this, and as it was the only likely move he could make, Roo did the unexpected. He leaped atop the bed on his left, bouncing off it as if he were an acrobat. He heard rather than saw Duncan’s blade strike the wall. He leaped off to stand next to Sylvia, and he turned to see Duncan pull back his own blade and leap atop the bed.

  Sylvia shrieked as she pulled a dagger from behind her pillow and struck at Roo. Roo’s attention was fixed upon Duncan, but he saw movement in the corner of his eye and dodged forward slightly. Pain exploded in his shoulder, as the blow, intended for his neck, missed and the dagger point slid down his right shoulder blade, skidding off bone.

  Duncan drew back his blade again, to skewer Roo as he had intended to do the last time. Roo fell back without conscious intent, and he struck Sylvia, who stumbled into the path of Duncan’s lunge.

  Both men froze a moment as Duncan’s sword point drove deep into Sylvia Esterbrook’s side. The beautiful young woman, her face contorted with hate and rage, suddenly went stif
f and her eyes grew round with astonishment.

  She looked down as if unable to comprehend what had just happened, and then she went limp. Duncan’s blade was pulled forward briefly, and as he attempted to wrench it from Sylvia’s dying body, Roo lunged. His aim was off and his arm weak from his injury, but Duncan was overbalanced and exposed, and the point of Roo’s sword took him straight in the throat.

  Duncan’s eyes suddenly widened, his astonishment a match for Sylvia’s. He stumbled backward and fell upon the bed, his head resting on one of his lover’s pillows as his hands went to his throat. Blood flowed from his neck, mouth, and nose and he gurgled as he sought to stem the flow with his hands.

  Roo stood there, bleeding, in pain, and out of breath as he watched his cousin lying on Sylvia’s bed, his blood staining the satin sheets and pillows. After a moment, Duncan’s hands went limp, falling from his throat, and his head rolled around to the left, as if he was staring at Roo and Sylvia, and the life fled from his eyes.

  Roo looked down at Sylvia, who lay at his feet, staring up with eyes as vacant as Duncan’s. The pounding on the door took on a steady, hard sound, and Roo knew they were using a table base or some other heavy object as a ram.

  He stumbled over to the door and shouted, “Stand back!”

  He unlatched the heavy iron latch and found three male servants, Samuel, a stablehand whose name Roo couldn’t recall, and the cook, all standing there with weapons. The cook held a kitchen cleaver, but the other two men carried swords.

  Roo glared at the three and said, “Stand aside or die.”

  Looking at the blood-spattered carnage behind the little man with the sword in his hand, the three servants moved back. Roo stepped into the hall.

  Behind the three men waited the other servants, maids, cooks, gardeners, and the rest. Roo said, “Sylvia is dead.”

  One of the maids gasped, while another smiled in obvious satisfaction.

  Roo said, “There’s an army heading this way. It will be here sometime tomorrow. Grab what you can and run east. If you don’t, by this time tomorrow night you’ll be raped and dead or slaves. Now stand aside!”

  No one hesitated. All turned and fled down the stairway.

  Roo staggered down the stairs, and when he reached the bottom, he saw servants were busy stripping the house of easily transportable items. He thought of returning to Jacob’s study and killing the traitor, but he was too tired. It would take all his strength to return home. His wound wasn’t critical, but it could be serious if it wasn’t tended.

  Staggering outside, he found his horse where he had left it tied. He put his sword in its sheath, and by force of will he climbed into the saddle. Pointing the horse toward the gate, he put heels to sides, and the animal cantered off, heading home.

  Luis dressed Roo’s shoulder while Karli fussed about, holding a basin of water. “It’s not bad,” said Luis. “The bone’s laid bare, but it’s all over the shoulder blade.” He was sewing up the wound with a piece of silk thread and a needle from Karli’s sewing kit. “Very messy, but nothing permanent.” As Roo flinched, he said, “Must hurt like hell, though.”

  Roo, pale from blood loss and pain, said, “It does.”

  “Well, if an artery had been cut you’d be dead by now, so count yourself fortunate.” He pulled tight the last stitch and motioned for a cloth, cleaning off the wound. “We’ll change the dressing twice a day and keep the wound clean. If it festers, you’ll be very sick.”

  Both men had been trained in dressing wounds, so Roo knew he was in good hands. Helen Jacoby said, “I’m sorry about Duncan.”

  Roo had told them Duncan and he had been jumped by bandits, fleeing before the invading army. He looked at Karli and decided he’d tell her the truth when everything was over, when his family was safe and he could ask her forgiveness. He might never love his wife, but now he knew that what he had with her was a great deal more solid than the illusion of love he had felt for Sylvia.

  All the way home, his wound pulsing with every heartbeat, he had cursed himself for a fool. How could he think she loved him? He had never been loved in his life, save perhaps by Erik and the other men who had served with him across the sea, and that was the love of comrades. He had never known the love of women, just their embrace.

  Twice he had found tears running down his face as he thought of the number of times he had dreamed of that murderous bitch being the mother of his children, and his anger at himself mounted.

  And his trust of Duncan . . . How could he have been so blind? He had let the fact of blood ties and easy charm mislead him about the man’s true nature: he was lazy, self-serving, and conniving. He was a true Avery, Roo decided.

  Drinking the mug of water Helen gave him, Roo said, “Luis, if anything happens to me, I want you to run Avery and Son for Karli.”

  Karli’s eyes grew round and tears began to form. “No!” She knelt before her husband and said, “Nothing’s going to happen to you!” She seemed almost desperate at the thought of losing Roo.

  Roo smiled. “Something almost did, tonight. I don’t plan on leaving this world any time soon, but I’ve seen enough of war to know that a man’s not consulted about his time of death.” He set down his mug and gripped her hands. “I’m talking about ‘in case,’ nothing more.”

  “I understand.”

  Then he looked at Helen and said, “I would like it if you’d stay with us for a while. After this is over, I mean. We’re all going to have to rebuild, and we’re going to need as many friends around to help as we can find.”

  She smiled and said, “Of course. You’ve been most generous to me and the children. They look upon you as they would a father, and I can’t thank you enough for the care you’ve taken in conducting my business.”

  Roo stood. “I’m afraid both our companies are going to be the worse for wear when this war is over.”

  Helen nodded, and said, “We’ll survive. Then we’ll rebuild.”

  Roo smiled and looked at his wife, who still looked afraid. “You two get some sleep. We leave in a few hours. Luis and I have a lot to discuss before then.”

  “Your wound,” said Karli. “You need to rest.”

  “I’ll rest in the coach, I promise. I won’t ride for a day or two.”

  “Very well,” she said, motioning for Helen to accompany her upstairs.

  Both women had awakened when Roo returned, and were wearing their long night shifts. As they climbed the stairs, Luis’s eyes followed Helen until they vanished from sight. “She’s quite a woman,” said Roo’s old companion.

  Roo had admired the way the thin fabric of her nightdress had hugged the curve of her hip as she mounted the stairs, and said, “I have always thought so.”

  Luis said, “So what really happened?”

  Roo looked at Luis. “What do you mean?”

  “I know a dagger wound when I see one. I’ve given enough of them, and you were struck from the side and rear. Had that been a bandit who knew what he was doing, you’d have been dead.” He sat down on a chair opposite Roo’s. “And bandits don’t jump armed men with nothing worth stealing.”

  “I went to the Esterbrooks’ estate.”

  Luis nodded. “You found Duncan with Sylvia.”

  “You knew?”

  The older fighter nodded. “Of course I knew. I’d have to be a blind idiot not to.”

  “I guess that makes me a blind idiot.”

  “Most men are when they think with that,” he said, pointing to Roo’s crotch. “Duncan’s been bedding the wench for more than a year.”

  “You said nothing! Why?”

  Luis sighed. “The reason I left the court of Rodez in shame was over a woman. I was made a fool of by a noble’s wife. I wounded him in a fight. By the time I reached Krondor and was captured, he had died and I was to be hanged for murder. That’s when I met you in the cell.” He nodded in memory. “I know what it is to think you’re in love, to be blinded by beauty and made stupid by the soft touch and warm scent. I kno
w the lady who ruined me was a calculating bitch who had no more use for me after I left her bed than she had for the servant who cleaned her shoes, but even now the thought of her in the warm candlelight can arouse my hunger.” He closed his eyes in memory. “I can’t say that if she appeared outside now, inviting me once again to share her bed, I could be wise enough to say no.

  “Some men never learn, and some learn before it’s too late. Which are you?”

  Roo said, “I never want to be that big an idiot again.”

  “Yet you gaze upon Helen Jacoby and wonder what it would be like to rest in those lovely arms, to rest your head upon that ample bosom, to feel her legs wrap around you.”

  Roo looked at Luis and his gaze narrowed. “What are you saying?”

  Luis shrugged. “Part of it is what any healthy man would wonder, for Helen is a beautiful woman, who has a warm and generous nature—I have thoughts about all such women, though I keep such thoughts to myself; all men do—but another part of it is Rupert Avery looking for something he doesn’t have.”

  “What is that?”

  “I don’t know, my friend,” said Luis, standing. “But you won’t find it in the arms of another woman, any more than you found it in the arms of your wife or Sylvia Esterbrook.” He reached over and touched Roo on the head. “You’ll find it here.” Then he touched him on the chest. “And here.”

  Roo sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” said Luis. “Besides, Helen is as dangerous in her own way as Sylvia was.”

  “Why?” asked Roo. “Sylvia betrayed me and was using Duncan to try to kill Karli and marry me, then kill me to get my fortune.” He looked hard at Luis. “You can’t think Helen is like that.”

  “No,” said Luis, with a sigh. “She’s dangerous in a different way. She really loves you.” Turning toward the door, he said, “When this is over, you would do well to send her away. See to her care if you must, but let her go, Roo.

  “Now I must go see to the wagons. You rest. You need it.”