Chapter Eight

Ambush

Despite recent revelations, now didn't seem like the ideal time to stop to try talking to Nicolo.

We needed to get our people to safety, and when Nicolo was himself again, I knew he'd thank me for putting those lives first.

Fortunately, the revolutionary hideout was built for easy escape. In the current climate of fear and oppression, there was no sense in having a hideout you couldn't escape from easily because it was only a matter of time before we were discovered. Thus, there were trapdoors leading to tunnels, shifting panels in the walls, and a rope ladder leading up three floors to the roof. Right now, members of the revolutionary army were pouring for these exits.

It should also be noted that the entire army wasn't all based in this one building, not far from the Great Castle. Wylder was a canny campaigner, but even he couldn't hide a whole army. This was the forward command post from which Wylder commanded his slowly massing forces, there were other branches throughout the Castle Complex, and when the day of the revolution finally came, one of the major difficulties would be the logistical challenge of getting everyone to wherever they needed to be.

Still, the hideout contained thirty to forty people, including most of those who represented the commanders of the revolution.

"You need to get out!" I grabbed Wylder by the shoulder as he ran for the door.

"Like hell! I do not run from a fight!"

"The revolution needs you, Wylder! You're the one everyone follows. If you get killed, then the whole thing falls apart. That's why Nicolo is here. He's not after anyone else, he just wants you. Cut off the head and the body will die. He's beaten you once before and he knows he can do it again. You know all this already so can we please not argue about it?"

I saw the waves of frustration cross Wylder's face. He knew I was right, but leaving went against every fiber of his nature.

"I hate being in command."

He enjoyed it most of the time, but generally Wylder led from the front.

"You have to go."

"Good luck, Charlotte, you've been the best of soldiers."

No more words were necessary. He went one way, ushering people towards the nearest exit. I went the other, to meet the soldiers under the command of my old master—my old lover.

There were only a handful of us left, holding the line to give everyone else a chance to escape. As I came onto the fighting, I saw Gerda being driven back by a pair of soldiers, and raced to her aid, sword drawn. As I took one of the soldiers off her hands, she was able to tackle the remaining one.

"Fall back to the landing!" I called out to her. There we would have the high ground and could fight more on our own terms. More importantly, while we were drawing them into the middle of the building, the others were escaping at its periphery.

"What if they're covering the outside?" whispered Gerda, as we ran back.

"Then we're screwed either way," I replied. "But I don't think they're interested in the people running away."

"Why not?"

"Because Nicolo wants Wylder, and he doesn't think Wylder will run." He wouldn't have if I hadn't forced him.

"So, we're good?"

I shrugged. "The revolution is good. We might have a few problems."

The narrowness of the staircase that led to the landing enabled us to fight the soldiers on more equal terms, even though they outnumbered us five to one. Also in our favor was the fact that we were looking down on them, able to hurl things and rain down blows. But something was bothering me.

"Have you seen the Master?"

"Don't know what he looks like," replied Gerda.

"You'd know him if you saw him," I said, firmly. "Tall, all in black, fully in charge."

"I don't think so."

The soldiers charged again, and again we held the line, every moment was precious, allowing our people to get further away.

But if Nicolo wasn't here…

My only indication that Nicolo had been here in the first place was the man who had run in on Wylder and me to tell us of the attack. Perhaps he'd been mistaken, perhaps in his panic, he'd imagined seeing the sight that terrified him the most. Or perhaps there was a reason Nicolo was holding back.

A sick feeling closed in on my stomach; we'd remained to be a diversion for the soldiers so our people could escape with Wylder. What if it was the other way around? What if the soldiers were the diversion, making us think that the main fight was here, and Nicolo was outside, capturing Wylder and rounding up as much of the revolution as he could?

It was the sort of thing you could expect from someone like Nicolo. I'd fought beside him before and I knew how clever he was.

But if such was the case, there was little I could do about it now.

With a whoosh and thunk, a flaming arrow struck the banister of the landing, followed by two more.

"Right, that's our cue to leave!" I decided. We'd fought well and held the soldiers at bay for long enough to give our people a chance. Now it was our turn to seek escape, and the soldiers had inadvertently given us cover under which to do just that.

"Gerda, take the lead."

I saw her look at me.

"I'll be right behind you," I assured her. "Just go."

As Gerda went, taking those others who had remained with her, the soldiers raced forward, thinking that I'd been abandoned. Placing a hand on the banisters to either side of me, I swung my feet up, kicking the lead man in the face, hard enough to send him tumbling back down the stairs, taking the rest of his troop with him.

With my attackers lying in a struggling heap, I rushed up the stairs, following Gerda and the others. The fire was now starting to spread and I paused to help it on its way, kicking out a section of burning banister and using it to block the stairs. That ought to give us the time we needed.

Gerda was waiting for me at the top of the rope ladder that led to the roof, peering down into the increasingly smoky room below.

"I'm here, I'm here! Go! Go! Go!"

As Gerda left, heading across the rooftops to safety, I swarmed up the rope ladder as fast as I could. I could hear shouting from behind me and general confusion, but no footsteps, so the soldiers hadn't gotten past the burning stairs yet.

Reaching the roof, I glanced around me for any sign of Nicolo or any other soldiers but saw nothing. Hopefully, that meant I'd been wrong about the double-bluff, and Wylder and the rest of the group had gotten away cleanly.

On the sloping slate of the roof, I skidded down, jumping nimbly at the end, grabbing the passing eaves of the house, and swinging to drop safely down into the alley below. Everyone else had gone and it was my turn to make myself scarce. We would regroup later at a pre-arranged spot, once things had calmed down and we were sure we weren't being followed.

"Ah, there you are."

I'd been about to run when I heard the voice from behind me and I spun around. Nicolo emerged from the shadows, sword in hand.

"I'd been starting to think you weren't coming."

I'd been right about everything; about his using the soldier's attack as a diversion and then waiting outside to capture the real target of his mission. But I'd gotten one important detail wrong; Wylder wasn't his target, I was.

That was stupid. It was a tactical error.

Nicolo could have taken Wylder, the leader on whom the revolution depended, but instead he'd let his personal feelings get in the way and he'd come for me, a largely unimportant cog in the revolutionary army. King Balduin would not be happy about that. Nicolo didn't make many mistakes but this was a big one.

None of which helped me.

On the other hand, I'd wanted the chance to talk to him, and here he was now, in front of me.

Although he didn't look to be in a talking mood.

"Long time no see." I tried for a chatty tone in the hope that I could then move the conversation in the direction in which I wanted it to go. "You look good."

"You look like a bedraggled rat," said Nicolo.

"I guess revolutionary life doesn't agree with me like evil agrees with you," I snapped back.

Nicolo snorted. "Why is it that every revolutionary thinks they're on the side of the angels?"

"I guess it's because we're not burning down the homes of innocent citizens."

"Innocent?" Nicolo shook his head. "This city is filled with dissent, with treachery, with anarchy. And your revolution will only make that worse. The only way to end such behavior is to curtail it by force."

"By punishing people for what they say and what they think? Even if what they think is the truth?"

"Those traitors are as innocent as you are," snarled Nicolo, glaring at me with a hatred that cut me right to the quick. "Wylder's whore . Sent to kill me by any means necessary, including seduction."

"Then why didn't I, Nicolo?" I pointed out. "We both know I could have killed you many, many times."

"And we both know I can kill you now," said Nicolo.

"You think?" It hadn't been my plan to goad him into a fight, but goading came naturally to me.

"Do you honestly believe you can beat me?" he laughed.

"Do you honestly believe I can't?"

"We have fought together many times."

"We've trained together," I corrected him. "Like you and Balduin. And he beat you every time. Amazing that, because I'd say you were the better fighter."

I saw the anger on his face increase. This wasn't going well, but sometimes I just couldn't help myself.

"You could have caught Wylder if you'd tried," I pointed out.

He shook his head. "I don't want that washed-up old fool. His death or glory revolution is doomed. I want the trained assassin. That's where the real danger is. If you had the brains to break into the right tower, then maybe you would even have succeeded in your cowardly attempt to rob the Gath of a strong ruler."

I'd thought I'd seen movement in his window on the night I broke into Heir's Tower…

"You think I didn't know where the king sleeps?" I laughed. "I told you once before what your friend keeps in that tower. I can tell you more now."

"More lies!"

"Think what you like." I shook my head. "Now's the point that anyone else would say ‘ I never lied to you, Nicolo ,' but we both know I did. Virtually everything I ever told you is a lie. And I can't regret it because those lies brought me to you, and for one month I was the happiest woman in the world. And I never lied to you about that."

"Your lies will not endear you to me any longer, Charlotte."

But the way he said my name—there was raw pain there.

I swallowed hard. "I loved you as much as I said, as much as I swore, as much as I still love you now, despite everything. I still love the Nicolo I knew in Simnel. That's the truth and that truth will never go away, no matter how you try to pretend otherwise. I'll never lie to you about that or about anything else, and I'm not lying now when I tell you that I broke into Heir's Tower that night to rescue a little boy with eyes as violet as yours. His name is Arthur, and I'm glad he wasn't here tonight. He's safe."

"Nonsense," Nicolo shook his head dismissively, but I thought maybe there was just a hint of uncertainty in his voice, just a suggestion that he might be wondering if I was telling the truth.

"He was imprisoned by your ‘friend'," I soldiered on. "Part of Balduin's plan to kill you was because you'd gotten too powerful and he didn't like it. He was jealous of you, Nicolo."

"Lies!"

"Now you're safe. And, incredibly, I find myself glad about that. Because I still think I can save you from yourself."

"The only person I need saving from is the lying bitch standing in front of me."

"There are more like Arthur, you know?" Perhaps I could still convince him. If only he would listen. "More people like you. Right here in the Gath. I learned all about your people—your father's people…"

Nicolo's sword suddenly swung. "I won't listen to another word of this guff!"

I brought my blade up to meet his and the alleyway rang with the sound of clashing steel. Last time we'd fought, it had seemed to me that Nicolo's own anger had gotten the better of him. I now got the sense that he was determined not to let that happen again. He was every bit as furious as before, more perhaps, but I could see him trying to get control of himself.

"Are you angry at me, or because you know I'm right?"

Keeping him angry was one way of keeping him off-balance, but it came at a price as I deflected blow after blow from his sword, swung with all his strength. There was no room for error; Nicolo might be a careless fighter when he was in a rage, but he was always a strong one. If I let my guard down then I would lose my head in an instant.