Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades(178)

Kaden looked back for Pater, but the boy, already tired from his sprint from the Talon and slowed by his shorter legs, hadn’t even made it halfway across the square. At the bloody shout from above, he had dropped to the ground, a dark huddled mound in the vast expanse of silvery moonlight. Kaden silently cursed himself for not taking the boy in his other hand when he ran.

Immediately, other cries inside the dormitory filled the terrible silence left by the first, followed shortly by the sounds of flight and struggle. The rough voices of soldiers called out to one another, cursing their victims, and then the men poured into the square, making for the front of the tent, the steel of their drawn swords flickering with cold menace.

As the men disappeared, Pater stared longingly at the gulf separating him from the others, then back at the shadow of the tent. A deep hole opened in Kaden’s stomach.

“No,” he hissed, “over here!” but Pater was already scurrying back to the dubious safety of the pavilion. Kaden could hear Ut curse inside the tent, then begin barking orders. “Pater!” he called again, letting go of Triste for the first time in order to run back for the boy. Tan stopped him with an iron grasp on his wrist just as Ut’s broadsword swept a long gash in the canvas, and the man stepped through.

The Aedolian peered right then left. Kaden prayed he might not see the small boy huddled almost at his feet. It works for fawns, he told himself, years of useless accumulated knowledge bubbling to the top of his mind. The fawn has no scent. So long as it remains motionless, the crag cat passes by. He had almost managed to convince himself when the Aedolian glanced down, snorted, then hoisted his squirming quarry into the air with one arm, the action terribly effortless. Pater stopped wriggling when Ut brought the point of his sword to the boy’s belly.

“Where is the Emperor?” he ground out.

Pater shook his head defiantly.

“I’m here to protect him, you fool,” the man insisted, lowering without softening his voice.

“No, you’re not!” Pater insisted. “You want to hurt him. I heard!”

Kaden tried to wrest his arm free of Tan’s viselike grip, to step into the moonlight. Whatever these men wanted with him, whoever they were, it had nothing to do with Pater. Before he could move, however, the Aedolian slid his sword smoothly into the boy’s body, driving it all the way through until it emerged, slick and dripping, just below his shoulder blades. Kaden stared, transfixed.

“Run, Kaden,” Pater tried to yell, but his voice was terribly weak, the strangled wheeze of a dying creature. No sooner were the words out than he slumped forward against the blade.

For what felt like an eternity, Kaden couldn’t move. His mind played and replayed the horror of the scene until he thought the vision might have scoured all other thought from his mind.

Casually, almost dismissively, Ut let his sword drop, sliding the limp body onto the ground. The tiny heap of bloodied rags was no larger than a dog. Was it possible Pater had been so slight, so insubstantial? It was his voice that made him seem bigger, Kaden realized. He was always talking.

The thought snapped something inside him, some bundle of caution, fear, and restraint, and with a roar he leapt into the square. He could hear Tan trying to follow him, but he had always been faster than his umial, and half a step was all the lead he needed.

Ut turned toward the sound, and Kaden could see a cold, cruel smile spread across the Aedolian’s face.

“We would have stabbed the kid anyway,” he said, slinging the blood off his sword in a slow arc. “We’re not leaving anyone alive.”

I don’t need to kill him, Kaden thought. I just need to distract him, and Tan will finish the job. A small part of his mind told him that the idea was incoherent. He had no idea if the older monk was following him, no idea if he had his naczal, no idea if he even knew how to fight.

Kaden was beyond caring. He felt only a hint of dismay when two soldiers burst through the tear in the canvas while a half dozen more appeared around the side of the pavilion. When they saw the figure rushing at them across the flagstones of the courtyard, they hesitated, then spread out, flanking their commander. Whichever one he attacked, the others would cut him down from the side. Even now, the closest was readying his blade as Kaden clumsily raised his candlestick in defense.

Then, with the moist sound of metal tearing through flesh, the man collapsed, a crossbow quarrel jutting from his neck.

Kaden didn’t have time to gape before two more fell, blood gurgling at their throats. The others paused, then took a tentative step back. With a curse, Ut turned his attention from Kaden to the darkness surrounding them, searching for their invisible assailant. They both stared as Pyrre Lakatur strode into the square.