Two Kingdoms 20: Doors and Corners

[DoctorM]

TWO KINGDOMS 20:  DOORS AND CORNERS

Author's Note: This is the sixteenth part of an AU construction about a very different post-1120 Gwynedd where the coronation challenge at Kelson's coronation went rather differently--- very differently. This segment falls I think a bit after "Tower".  As always, input and comments are very much appreciated.


There's snow beginning, and there are bodies in the street, horses and men both. Blood, too, pooling on the cobblestones. Men are dashing back and forth trying to get control of the horses.

Christian pushes himself up on one knee and takes a breath. There's pain in his right ankle— sprained, maybe. Not broken. He can stand, but he can feel bruises starting down his side and his left shoulder. There's a knife in his hand— the little black-coated boot dagger, not his kinzhal. He's pressing hard into the thumb groove on the knife and he can feel wetness dripping from his right hand and more of it soaking along his shirt front.

Michael Gordon grabs him by one shoulder and pulls him up. "Don't you be dead, damn you! Don't you even goddamn think about being dead!"

Christian tries to look round. It's hard to see—  his vision is dazzled, and what he can see is washed out. He can feel snow on his face, but all he can see looks like flashes at the corners of his eyes, like rips in the fabric of the day. He manages to get to his feet and braces himself on his cousin's arm.  "I'm not dead," he rasps. He looks down at himself. "Not my blood. It's not." He looks down at the street. "They killed my horse. They killed my effing horse."

Michael  Gordon is out of breath, too. "So's mine. Dead in the street, not a mark on him. So many horses. We lost people, too. It's not good."

"Did we get all of them? The street and the the bridge? We need prisoners, we need somebody alive." Everything around him feels empty and hollow and slow. On the steppe it felt like that after a sudden windstorm.

"The street, sure, nobody's moving but us. Up on the bridge— I've never seen anything like that."

Out in the street Donal Gordon is standing looking at them. "Davey Comyn's dead," he says, "They took his leg off at the knee. And one of yours, the big R'Kassan. They beat his head into the cobblestones." He's got his sword still, and he's half holding it, loose in his hand. "I don't know what I saw, I don't know what I saw— just lights, lights and colours. It looked like a dragon for a minute, all in light..."

Christian looks around. Falcon Horse are milling in the street, most of them dismounted. Some are trying to clear their eyes— those have to be Deryni. Others are holding blade wounds. He points at three still mounted. "Get the hell down the street, cover the next side street! Nobody comes out, nobody comes down.  Who's up on the bridge? Get people up on that bridge— now, now, now!"

He looks back the way they'd come. Dead horses, maybe a couple more dying on the ground, spasming and kicking. He sees a man in Falcon Horse livery slash at a  sprawled body with a sabre. More of his men have bows out now, and they're stringing them while they're running to the stairs down from the bridge. 

Michael Gordon is blinking against flashes, too. He shakes his head. "I'm your heir. I just don't want to have to succeed you right now."

He can breathe now, The world around him is still shot through with flashes. He sweeps his knife hand back towards where his horse is lying. "Somebody find my sword!  Get my effing sword! Search the bodies. You heard me."

They're coming down from the archbishop's palace when it begins.  The Prince of Kheldour and his retinue, plus a dozen or two Falcon Horse in a column on their way to the barracks near the St. Leonard's docks. A cold, grey Valoret day, and the Queen's Remembrancer is riding down to the river to put some life into the city garrison.

It's an ordinary enough street, houses for artisans and the middling merchant class. Wide enough for his horsemen to ride three abreast. Almost no one about on a cold day with snow about to fall. He's talking to Michael Gordon and one of the R'Kassan engineers the Queen has hired and he sees his cousin looking up at the clouds. He feels it himself in a moment—  like storm weather coming on.

Christian frowns. The Deryni in his retinue can all feel it. He looks down the street. There's a footbridge crossing over just in front of them. It crosses the street from one second floor to another. Three men are on it, one coming down towards the other two. The first of the two half-turns to say something and Christian can see it, a faint blue shimmer forming over the man's body.  He knows what that is, knows in a heartbeat what's about to happen.

"Shields! Shields!" He yells that out and points up. "On the bridge! On the bridge! Shields!" Every Deryni in the column has to be hearing that.

He calls up his own shields and out of the corner of his eye he sees movement and the glint of metal along the street. His captains are shouting in the steppe tongue: "Csapda! Csapda! Ambush! Ambush!"

Men are dashing out of doorways with heavy axes and war hammers. He grabs for his kinzhal in its saddle scabbard and everything explodes around him in  sheets of white light.

His men are up on the footbridge, and one signals down: three bodies up there. The trooper leans over the bridge. "Christ, they're burned! Two of them are burned to death. Charred like old firewood. Not a mark on the third. It has to be magic, it has to be Deryni magic."

Michael Gordon picks an axe up from the street. "This one was coming for you." He points at a dead man lying half on Christian's horse. "Their timing was off, that's all. If they'd waited half a minute, the ones on the bridge would've done a strike, and we'd never have seen this lot with the axes. We'd have all been blind."

Christian points up with the boot knife. "Crossbows. If they'd come out with crossbows up there, I'd be dead in the street. All of this, all of this arcane strike thing was just...too much, you know. The axemen just waded in. They were in everyone's way. What they needed was just crossbows."

He limps back to a body. The R'Kassan engineer is there, stunned. The engineer points down at the dead man. "This one's from home," he says. "He's in your colours, though. He needs a real burial service. One from home, not the Church here."

"We'll get him one. I'll see to it."

There's light all around him, and what he can hear is a sound like the ocean on a rough coast. Far, far away there's the sound of metal and voices. There are spots of brick-red on the blue of his shields, whatever's being used against him trying to burn through. The horse screams and rears and something heavy crashes into it. The horse screams again, this time in real pain, and starts to go over and down. It's still lashing out with its fore hooves, and he can the sound of something being struck hard.

Christian kicks his feet out of the stirrups as the horse topples. He's not about to die under a fallen horse or lie there with a broken leg. He comes down hard on the street, and there's pain through one ankle. His sword is gone, and he scrabbles for the first blade he can get at. He claws the little dagger from his boot and tries to roll away from the horse. Its blade is not much more than three inches, but it's what he has: black and made from a single piece of steel. His thumb presses into the groove in the metal and he sees a shadow getting up from the street, axe gone, and staggering towards him.

The man half falls over the dying horse and has his own blade out. Christian comes up and pushes himself into the heavy body. He stabs out over and over, pumping hard into leather and quilting. He bears the man over to one side and keeps pumping, the point of his boot knife going in fast, easily a  dozen times. Blood pours out onto his shirt. There's blood from the horse, too. He has no idea if that's from an axe wound. The man tumbles away and Christian can hear the roar again. Off to his left scarlet sparks fly up from the cobblestones. He can smell  something burning. He brings up his shields to one side and tries to focus.

He can see the bridge, see figures moving on it, trying to target him. Something bright and pulsing flies past him and flowers up against the stonework of the bridge— one of his Deryni sending a strike up. He throws out two bursts of  light and sees one of the figures up there fall back, haloed by red. Another strike hits the street by his side.  Sparks flicker on the stones. Something like smoke rises up from the horse's body. The sounds of metal and voices grow louder over the storm-hiss of Deryni power.

He's half-up, braced on his off hand, and he manages to focus on the knife blade and use it to point. He can feel energy going out through his hand  and something like a dripping globe of witch-light soars up and hits just over the bridge. Someone up there screams.

Behind him he hears Michael Gordon's voice shouting. He can feel Deryni messages going out to the palace: Shrike, Shrike, Shrike.

And then, quick as it began, it's done. The ocean sound is gone, and so are the sounds of steel on steel, of panicked men and horses. Men are crying out in the steppe tongue: Elmentek! Ez mind! Thay're gone! That's all of them! Meghaltak! Meghaltak! They're dead, they're dead!

He can barely see through the flashes of light in his eyes, and he tries to stand. Muscles spasm and twitch in his left arm. And...it's over.

Christian pulls Michael Gordon aside. "Get up on the bridge," he says. "Get people into both ends. Find out where the three up there came from." He points at Donal Gordon and one of the Falcon Horse captains. "Get down those alleys. Find out what opens into them.  They came out of doorways. Which houses? Kick in doors if you have to." 

He steps past a body with a blood-soaked shawl in Gordon colours over its face. "Get into those houses! I want sheets and blankets. I want our people covered and picked up. Strip the dead horses. Start going over everybody we killed. Anything— rings, clothes, writings, everything. Find out who they are. Look for anything that ties them to a place. Did we kill them all? Start asking— did anyone see any of them running? Don't take no for an answer from anyone."

Falcon Horse riders with bows are up on the footbridge. They're shying back from the dead. He has no idea what it must look like, what the strikes have done to the bodies. His men have seen war out on the steppe or down in the Anvil. If they're sickened  up there, it must be bad.

One of the archers waves down and points. "Horsemen coming! At the canter!"

Christian and his captains are pointing. "Form line! Form line!" He still has the boot knife in his hand. Donal Gordon dashes up with Christian's kinzhal and passes it over. He slides the little black knife back into its sheath and works his hand around the hilt of the kinzhal. There's a violet gleam from the hilt— the family amethyst, an heirloom from Iomaire field long ago. If he's going to make a last stand, it'll be with a light-horse sabre and the gem.

He looks round. What's left of the retinue are formed across the street. There are men with bows kneeling on stoops; more are up there on the bridge. Michael Gordon is next to him with one of the axes. The R'Kassan engineer is off to one side with a raven's-beak war hammer picked up from one of the dead attackers.

Horses are coming into the street, a long ragged train of cavalry in a mix of liveries. The lead horsemen are in grey and black, Aurelian's colours, the State Inquisitor's men.  A nimble black desert-bred reins in and Marc-Friedrich Aurelian jumps down. Behind him State Inquisition troops— the Slayers, they're called these days —are dismounting and running to household steps and doorways. Tolan Horse and more Falcon Horse are pelting up as well.

Aurelian stares at him, at the blood soaking his shirt and jacket and hose.  Christian holds up a hand. "Not my blood," he says.

Aurelian shakes his head. He taps a gloved fist on Christian's chest. "You'd bloody better have chain mail on under that," he says. He looks at the dead in the street and the bodies of the horses. He grins. "I can't let you out of my sight for even a minute, can I?"

Christian shrugs. "Their timing was off. They set their men on us before they started trying to do Deryni things. No discipline."

Aurelian stares down at the black burns across the street stones. "I can still feel it. That's  a lot of power."

"They had three Deryni that we know about.  Power enough— everybody's half dazzle-blind down here. But again, no discipline. They just threw strikes. Couldn't focus and aim worth a damn."

Aurelian gestures to the Slayer captains. "Get into those houses! I want every head of household and every male over twelve in every house on these two blocks out here, out in the street! Start asking questions. Anybody doesn't answer, they go back for a full interrogation. Go through everything in those houses. Any sign the householders were hiding this lot, start making examples." He looks back at Christian. "The Queen practically threw me up into the saddle to get down here. She wants examples made, too. Nothing ordinary. She's beyond furious."

"I'm on her side. Shields and strikes aren't the way I planned to start the day." He looks at his left arm and tries to will the twitching and spasming to stop. "Christ, I've never done that before. Not for real."

"Who has? Strikes and duels-arcane. That's all in stories and songs. Until today.  Do you know who they were?"

"Not yet. I didn't hear them say anything. They look like anybody and nobody.  Hired muscle. The ones down here— a couple look like Howicce, maybe. Those heavy beards, you know? But Howicce men work for everybody. They go everywhere."

"The Deryni, though. They had to come from somewhere. Not just west country axemen. The Haldanes wouldn't do that— hire Deryni assassins. If they had Deryni here, if they had Deryni in charge, that's Wencit and Rhydon."

"Stefan Coram, maybe, or at least his followers."

Aurelian grins again. "It's the Eleven Kingdoms. You have some self-important Deryni Council and it can't even run an assassination right. And if it's Wencit, well, I'd have thought better of him. This shouldn't have been hard to bring off."

Christian squeezes his eyes shut. "I know. You could have done it at eighteen, got it right the first time. That's why I'm glad you're on our side."

Aurelian tilts his head to look at him. "Christ, can you see?"

"Everything's just bright. It's like being snow-blind, or sand-blind out in the Anvil. It'll pass."

"It'll pass after I get you to the Moors. They're good with things like being light-struck. If I bring you home blind, the Queen will not be a happy lady. Right now she's about half-ready to do a full ratissage in this quarter of Valoret."

Christian looks up at the bridge. Slayers are up there now, helping his men go over the bodies. He can hear doors being forced open and protesting Valoret locals being driven out into the street.

"Like I said— I'm on the Queen's side. Dead from an arcane strike in some merchants' street isn't how I want things to end." Christian signals for a horse. "Let's find out if it's Wencit or Coram. We'll find out and then we'll start paying calls of our own. We stop them now, or next time they'll try for Charissa. And I'll start burning things, too— Beldour, if I have to, Coram if I can find him."

[Jerusha]

Wonderful chapter!  My heart was practically in my mouth.  I would not want to be the one behind this and have to face the wrath of Christian, Aurelian and the Queen. 

[DoctorM]

Wonderful chapter!  My heart was practically in my mouth.  I would not want to be the one behind this and have to face the wrath of Christian, Aurelian and the Queen.

Thank you very much! (And Joyeux Noel here on Christmas Day 2021!)

[DerynifanK]

Well that was exciting. I wonder who was behind the attack. Glad it is not the Haldanes. Still, I would not want to be the ones being hunted by Aurelian and Christian. A very violent interchange. Had me on the edge of my seat. Anxious to see what comes next.

[DoctorM]

Well that was exciting. I wonder who was behind the attack. Glad it is not the Haldanes. Still, I would not want to be the ones being hunted by Aurelian and Christian. A very violent interchange. Had me on the edge of my seat. Anxious to see what comes next.

Thank you! We'll see who's behind it. Whoever it is, they're about to have a very bad winter.

And-- Merry Christmas and the best of 2022 to you!

[DerynifanK]

I have to say I can't see either Wencit or Coram being so incompetent in planning an attack or in hiring mercenaries who were incompetent. I certainly don't see Morgan or the Haldanes using untrustworhty mercenaries. Makes me wonder if there might be another player here, one we haven't thought of yet. Intriguing thought.

[DoctorM]

I have to say I can't see either Wencit or Coram being so incompetent in planning an attack or in hiring mercenaries who were incompetent. I certainly don't see Morgan or the Haldanes using untrustworhty mercenaries. Makes me wonder if there might be another player here, one we haven't thought of yet. Intriguing thought.

Hmmm... Interesting thought. Very interesting. We'll have to see!

[Laurna]

Thank you for the Christmas Present, This was FUN!

I really like the way Christian has flashbacks to the action. Glad for Christian's sake that the men riding up were sent by the queen and not adversarial, I was almost worried you planed to take Christian hostage.
I can see where this ambush might have come from a minor rebel  front, someone who had money but not the best resources. Why am I thinking of Queen Jehana's relatives? Or maybe a single CC member acting without consent of the whole CC.

Good Scene, Doctor M!

[DoctorM]

Thank you for the Christmas Present, This was FUN!

I really like the way Christian has flashbacks to the action. Glad for Christian's sake that the men riding up were sent by the queen and not adversarial, I was almost worried you planed to take Christian hostage.
I can see where this ambush might have come from a minor rebel  front, someone who had money but not the best resources. Why am I thinking of Queen Jehana's relatives? Or maybe a single CC member acting without consent of the whole CC.

Good Scene, Doctor M!

Thanks, Laurna!

I think you may be seeing some of the possibilities here for who was behind the attack.

Happy Boxing Day, by the way!

[Nezz]

Oh very nice! I quite enjoyed this one. I had to keep reminding myself that the people on the other side might be "the good guys" and that in a different story I'd want them to win.

Can't wait to see the queen's reaction to all this...

[DoctorM]

Oh very nice! I quite enjoyed this one. I had to keep reminding myself that the people on the other side might be "the good guys" and that in a different story I'd want them to win.

Can't wait to see the queen's reaction to all this...

I think you'll get to see that very soon. I suspect she will *not* be in a forgiving mood.

[DerynifanK]

I don't recall "forgiving moods" being one of Charissa's traits. Of course she went through a lot from a very young age so I guess that is somewhat understandable. I do hope she doesn't go ff half-cocked and start  reprisals before she knows who was responsible. She has enough enemies without creating more by acting hastily and unjustly.

[DoctorM]

I don't recall "forgiving moods" being one of Charissa's traits. Of course she went through a lot from a very young age so I guess that is somewhat understandable. I do hope she doesn't go ff half-cocked and start  reprisals before she knows who was responsible. She has enough enemies without creating more by acting hastily and unjustly.

I think that with Aurelian as her Inquisitor of State she'll do some investigation first. But she is going to take this very seriously. For that matter, so will Christian.