Gears of Troy 2 Page 17

  I ducked in time to avoid another shot. Only after the fact did I realize another glint of motion in the moonlight served as my warning. Slowly, my eyes were beginning to adjust to what I was seeing.

  The brief flashes were coming from open windows above the fortress gates. The men who were firing at us, it appeared, were covered head to toe in black armor—that was what I saw each time one of them moved to shoot: the black metal on their forearms as they reached out from the windows to release their arrows. We were in the dark of night, their castle was black, and their armor was black, making it extremely difficult for intruders unfamiliar with the fortress layout to know what they were looking at. Suddenly, the lack of lighting in the city made more sense to me. Any sort of illumination would diminish the effect and potentially give the men away.

  “Everyone!” I shouted. “Come to me—quickly!”

  I hauled ass over to the building Caria was hiding behind. Thankfully, Linos and Tewan were in one piece, the messenger already waiting for me when I approached. Five other soldiers made it over soon after, but there was no sign of Scander. I hoped he was still winding along the wall fighting watchmen away from this mess. Everyone watched me intently, their breaths coming in anxious gasps.

  “Okay, they’re wearing black to blend in with the fortress. We’ll need to light a fire to see them. Once that’s done, those of you with bows are going to have to pick them off before we can advance. Got it?”

  They all nodded.

  “Where do we find a torch?” asked one of the soldiers.

  “Yeah, I’ll admit that’s kind of up in the air at the moment.”

  “Does anyone have flint and steel?” asked another trooper.

  “I don’t—do none of you?” My plan was seeming less feasible with each passing second.

  The men all looked at each other, shaking their heads. Only Tewan seemed positive, wearing that smirk I was quickly growing accustomed to.

  “I have got you covered there, my friend,” he said, reaching into a pocket in his robe and pulling out exactly what we needed to light a fire.

  “Great,” I exclaimed. “So that leaves us only missing one thing: something to burn. Maybe we can find a torch in one of these . . .”

  I trailed off. Tewan’s smirk grew larger. He already had it figured out. He tapped his index finger against the stone of the house we were huddled against and then pointed to its roof—its thatch roof. I almost slapped myself upon realizing the oversight.

  “Of course,” I laughed. “Do it.”

  Some of the men propped him up as he set to work igniting the straw in different places. The others and I blew and fanned the small embers until the fire grew in size. Arrows flew overhead several times, but we stayed low enough to prevent them from hitting us. When we had a couple decent flames going, I ventured a peek around the corner of the house.

  The light was already lending more definition to the castle. I was able to see where many of the stones began and ended. The windows themselves were still cast in shadow, but I was sure that once one of the shooters moved into view, his armor would make a nice reflective target.

  “I think that’ll do it!” I said. “One of us needs to lure them out. It looks like they’ve stopped shooting for now.”

  Before anyone else had time to think it over, one of the soldiers said, “On it!” and ran out into the main road.

  Caria and two others snapped into action, readying their bows. When our man began shouting, baiting the guards to act, our archers switched places with me and waited for a sign of movement from the tower.

  They all released their arrows at once, and Caria turned to me. “We got one!”

  I laid a hand on her shoulder. “Good job. You guys cover us while we move in.”

  Linos, Tewan, and the other two soldiers followed me into the open. I gestured for our man who was playing the distraction to accompany us. I paid little attention to the windows as we charged for the gates. Every so often, an arrow would soar ahead of us. I did not notice any more coming from the fortress itself.

  We slammed into the gates, almost tripping over the bodies of our brothers and their steeds in the process. The doors were, of course, locked.

  “What now?” asked one of the men.

  “I’m thinking our best bet is to get up in that window,” I said.

  All heads turned upward.

  The guy who asked the question said, “That is very high for any of us to climb.”

  “I know, but we’re going to have to—at least one of us who can let the rest of us in.”

  “I will go,” said Linos. He leaned his club against the wall. “Someone, stand here.”

  One of the men stood against the wall and the tribesman used him as a ladder. When Linos was standing on the soldier’s shoulders, the Trojan slid his palms under the Thirian’s feet and thrusted him up as high as his arms would allow. Linos jumped the rest of the way and slipped out of sight.

  There were startled screams immediately after and a torrent of clanking and thuds. Soon, we heard scraping on the other side of the doors, and then they swung open. Linos was standing there to greet us with a mischievous smirk. He went to collect his club, and the six of us hurried inside.

  It was lucky that no floor separated the windows from the doors. There was only a walkway lining the front half of the main room which allowed easy access to the windows. Two guards lay dead along this narrow strip of stone—one pierced through the eye by an arrow, and the other in a pool of blood which still poured from several significant lacerations along his body. I called for the other three to join us.

  Ahead of us lay two spiral stairs that met on either side of a landing from which another set of stairs started and reached over our heads to the next floor. The nine of us ascended these steps, hoping we would find Mursili at their end.

  The second flight of stairs was enclosed by two walls, one of which was illuminated with a row of torches. I was relieved to finally be able to see without squinting. The steps led to an ornate set of wooden double doors. Gold symbols were inlaid along the edges of each door, and I hoped they were not part of some kind of protective spell that would blow my foot from my ankle when I kicked the barrier open.

  I charged ahead and did just as I’d planned, forcing both doors wide open as the wood around one door’s latch splintered against the will of my boot. The gang rushed in behind me, and we all stopped in our tracks to take in the sudden change of scene.

  This room was surprisingly well-lit from what the outside had led us to believe. I saw no windows, so that explained that much. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, spread out every three yards or so. They were so high that I could not touch them if I jumped. The floor was covered in a smoky emerald green marble, so clean that I saw my reflection peering back at me. The room was large, but it did not take up half the space of the main hall below us. On either side of the wall at my back were several doors similar in appearance to the one I had just broken through. It looked as if we might have to explore these one at a time.

  “I wonder if these were the former rulers of Cannakale,” Caria mused. She was referring to the dozen or so paintings lining the wall in front of us.

  “No idea,” I said. “But let’s keep our eyes on the prize. We can come back and check it out later.”

  I made for the closest door to my left but spun around at the sound of one opening further down the wall behind me. A black-clad guardsman was walking into the room. Upon registering what he was looking at, he spun around quicker than I did and almost slipped on the smooth marble in his haste to retreat. The door slammed shut behind him.

  “That looks promising,” I said.

  We gathered around the door, and I prepared to kick it in. My foot met only open air as the door swung back open and ten of the King’s guard rushed out to greet us. Two were on top of me in an instant, pinning me down and making ready to disembowel me.

  Linos’s club wiped them from my field of view, and I managed to kick my le
gs in the air and rock backward onto my stomach. The gang rushed in to the space I left behind as I pushed myself up.

  Linos had killed one immediately, but the other was rising to his feet, having only been knocked down by the weight of his comrade who suffered the brunt of the Thirian’s weapon. The guard was on his feet before the chief could reclaim his weapon, so Linos drew his sword and parried the blade heading for him in the next breath.

  My attention jerked to the others. Caria was positioned furthest away from the enemies next to me, her bow ready to end a life as soon as she felt she had a clear shot. Tewan’s hand was covered in another man’s blood as his dagger dived deep into its victim’s throat. The messenger fell to the ground as the guard at the tip of his knife flailed his arms aimlessly and doubled over into his attacker.

  One of our Trojans had already died at the hands of two enemies, and the rest were doing their best to hold their own. I swooped in to avenge my fallen brother, the tip of my blade leading me forward. My sword sailed into one man’s stomach in a gap between the metal covering his torso and that of his leggings. The other man raised his weapon to attack but flew back as an arrow pierced his unprotected neck.

  I turned just as another of my men was run through by an enemy blade. I cursed and cut him down, cleaving into the back of his neck. He dropped straight down as if the gravity anchoring him to the floor had suddenly multiplied tenfold.

  The two combatants beyond him had not finished their fight. My guy held his sword overhead blocking the enemy’s weapon that was bearing down on him. Most of the Trojan’s weight was on his hind leg as the enemy pressed into him, forcing his back to arc more with each second. I darted up to them and slid my blade into the foe’s exposed armpit. He hollered and his weapon clanked against the marble. The Trojan regained control of his balance and finished his adversary off with an unnecessary but humane slice to the throat.

  The two of us hacked away at the next man down the line, freeing another of our brothers from the struggle. The enemy collapsed as three needles bore their way into his torso.

  I glanced at Linos to see that he had taken care of his opponent and was on his way to join us. There were only two left now. The seven of us surrounded them and closed in.

  The guards dropped their weapons and held their hands high. I raised a hand to stay my men.

  “Where is your King?” I barked.

  “Upstairs!” one said.

  “Where are the damn stairs?”

  He jerked his head to the door they had just come from. “There’s a set of stairs in there—the only one that leads to that room.”

  “And the King will be in that room?”

  They both nodded vigorously.

  “What else is up there? Who else is up there?”

  The other spoke this time. “The science men, the King and six of his personal guard, His Majesty’s witch, and Princess Matanaza!”

  The first man added, “They are making preparations for a weapon up there. We do not know what it does. Please, let us go—this is everything we know.”

  “All right,” I said, gesturing for my men to let them through. “Get the hell out of here—and that means leave the city!”

  Without another word, they sprinted for the stairs and disappeared.

  “Do you think that was wise, sir?” asked one of the Trojans.

  “It’ll be fine. They’ll probably run into Scander anyway.”

  We carried on through the door. The next room was much the same as the last, only smaller. As the men had described, there was a spiral staircase waiting for us in the middle of the floor. I approached with Linos at my side and the others close behind.

  “I’ll do the honors.”

  I ascended the stairs as Linos fell in with the rest of the crew and cautiously crept up with me. Like before, this stairway led to a wooden door lined with gold sigils, but this door was not doubled like its predecessor, only wide enough to permit entry to one person at a time. I had no doubt that the people on the other side were aware of our presence by now, and I knew that the first person to burst through the threshold would likely meet a swift death. So, I didn’t burst through. I lifted a hand and knocked.

  16

  “Come in,” rasped an aged voice following a click in the door.

  It popped open, and I nudged it the rest of the way, leading my entourage into what I was sure would be the final showdown.

  The room was cozy with all of us inside. The walls were made of polished grey marble, but little of the glossy material shone through from behind the massive slabs of slate covering them. Every inch of these slabs was filled with foreign symbols, but not like the ones I had seen on the doors. I did not know whether I was looking at written words or mathematical equations. A plain wooden table hugged the wall to my left below one of these boards, and it was covered with pieces of parchment, on which were etched similar signs.

  Other tables were spread around the room, and on them sat all manner of instruments. There were too many glass vials to count—half of them were empty, and the other half contained liquids of varying colors. Around these were scattered many unusual tools that reminded me of the ones I had found in the black box at Dardanelles. The room was illuminated by a single chandelier, bathing us in an ethereal blue. I could only guess at what this mood lighting did to contribute to the dark practices that were clearly taking place here. Everything I saw fit what I had expected of an evil king’s lab, except for one essential ingredient: the scientists.

  Watching us from the opposite end of the room were seven figures—an elderly man who I assumed was the King, and his six guards. The man wore a tall green turban and matching robes that draped to his feet. He stood with a slight hunch and silently watched us with the kind of knowing look only permitted to crafty individuals. There was a glass of glowing cyan liquid in his boney fingers.

  The men on either side of him stood like statues. Their armor was similar to that of the guards we had just faced, except that the visors of their headgear ended in a single point, making them look like big menacing birds of prey.

  “We’re here to find the cure for King Priam,” I demanded.

  Half of the old man’s lip curled upward. “My scientists could help you with that,” he croaked.

  “Where are they, then?”

  Without looking, he pointed a thumb to a red curtain draped behind him. I had not noticed before, but now I realized that it did not simply serve as a wall decoration, but also as a divider between two room.

  “They are in the next room,” he said nonchalantly.

  “I have a feeling you aren’t just going to hand them over.”

  “Clever boy . . . No, that would be far too easy . . . but you have come all this way . . . It would be a pity to send you home empty-handed.”

  I pointed my sword to him, and the two guards closest to either side of their master lurched forward. He held up a hand, and they stepped back in position.

  “We’re either leaving with that cure or we’re not leaving at all,” I said.

  Mursili nodded. “That is understandable. What would you say to a contest, young man? Make things interesting?”

  I held my sword in place. “What kind of contest?”

  “It is simple: you and I fight to the death. My men will keep their distance, and your men will keep theirs. Hm . . .?”

  I did lower my sword upon hearing that. “Are you serious? You . . . and me . . .?”

  “That is correct. What more could you expect of an epic showdown?” he cackled. “We would fight with our bare hands, of course.”

  “And if I win . . .”

  “Yes, yes—if you win, you may take your precious cure and leave unharmed. If I win, you die and are out of my hair. Simple as that. Do we have a deal, young man?”

  I huffed. “Sure, then. Have it your way.”

  I dropped my sword and waved my allies back. In return, Mursili gestured for his guards to stand against the wall on their side of the room. The King c
hugged the glowing liquid and tossed the glass over his shoulder. He then removed both his turban and robe, leaving nothing covering his skin but a loin cloth that looked more like a diaper. Even his scalp was bare for the world to see, with all its peeling skin and liver spots.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “What? Do you mean my drink?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It was just the start of my little field test. You’re my rat, boy.”

  The final word exploded from his lungs, punctuated by a sound that was a mixture of a belch and a moan. I took a step back as Mursili grabbed his stomach and bent forward and then suddenly jerked upright and fall back to the cold stone of the floor. From there he writhed around in agony as if something was devouring him from the inside. His veins grew dark and I could see them pulsing even from where I stood across the room. He pounded a knuckle into the floor, and I thought for sure he was about to break his own hand. After several agonizing moments, he lay flat and then jerked up into a seated position.

  Mursili was looking in my direction, but I was not sure if he was seeing me. His eyes were blank, or glazed over. I could not tell in the strange lighting if I was only noticing his advanced cataracts for the first time or if this was . . . something else.

  His mouth dropped open, and from it came this long continuous moan like the wailing of a vengeful spirit. The veins popping in his neck grew even larger as if they were parasitic worms feeding on the frail old man. They climbed all the way to his eyes and forehead even as I watched.

  He jumped to his feet with a dagger-toothed sneer and roared, “Come, boy! Give me everything you have!”

  I did not know how to react. Even with all the veins and the lack of pupils, he still just appeared to be a crazy old man. He charged for me with outstretched arms, and I stepped in and grabbed him by the neck with a single hand, stopping him in his tracks.

  His smirk never wavered as he wrapped his fingers around my forearm and pressed them into my skin. I howled, incredulous that his knobby little stick fingers caused me to bleed. Out of pure reflex, I punched him in the face with my free hand. He flew to the ground, releasing my arm.