The Crimson Campaign

Tamas dashed toward the hallway where Nikslaus had disappeared. It was a long hall, perhaps a hundred yards into another wing of the manor. Tamas opened his third eye, fighting off the dizziness, and searched for signs of Wardens or the Privileged.

A soldier leapt out of a side room with a shout. Tamas closed his third eye, reeling back as he felt a sword slice cleanly along the side of his stomach. He fended off another thrust and drew his second pistol, firing from the hip. The shot took the Kez soldier in the chest. The man lurched forward, then tried to step back. A look of surprise crossed his face as he fell to the ground.

Tamas left him where he was and sprinted along the hallway. The pain of his bad leg throbbed like the beat of a drum and the cut along his side stung in the open air. He slowed as he rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, only to find another hall leading off a hundred paces long.

No sign of Nikslaus.

“Sir!” Vlora came up beside him, breathing hard.

“He came this way,” he said.

She nodded and trotted out ahead of him.

Vlora was about fifteen paces ahead of him when a Warden burst out of the cover of a doorway and slammed into her. His momentum took them both across the hallway and out of sight, into another room.

“Vlora!” Tamas ran forward, only to stop when a voice called out.

“No closer.” Nikslaus. The voice came from just inside the doorway where Vlora and the Warden had disappeared.

“I’m coming to kill you,” Tamas said.

“Not if you want this one alive.”

Tamas looked down. Both pistols were spent. He might be able to angle a bullet around the corner. No. He knew he could.

“Vlora?” Tamas called out.

No answer.

“If she’s dead,” Tamas said, “I’ve no reason to stop myself from coming around this corner.”

Tamas heard a deep, angry grunt, and then Vlora’s voice. “I’m all right, sir.”

“For now,” Nikslaus said, “but if she bites my Warden again, I’ll let him snap her neck. I’m using her as a shield, Tamas. If you angle a bullet around that wall, it’ll hit her.”

Tamas sheathed his sword and drew a pistol. He reloaded quickly, steadily, and then shoved it in his belt so he could reload the other.

“How is your leg?” Nikslaus called. “I’m surprised you can put that much weight on it.”

“It was healed by a god. It feels fantastic. How are your hands? Did Kresimir grow them back for you?”

Tamas was satisfied to hear a low curse.

“Surrender, Tamas, or I kill the girl.”

“Kill her,” Tamas said. “I don’t care.”

“I think you do. I recognize this one. Vlora. I never told you that was one of my little schemes, did I? Having her seduced.” Tamas heard another low grunt — the Warden — and then Nikslaus’s laugh. “You probably thought it was the nobility. Well, that’s what the fop thought, too.”

“She betrayed Taniel,” Tamas said. “Like I said: kill her.”

Nikslaus clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Oh, Tamas. I know everything about you. I know your hopes and your fears. I know your favorites. She’s always been one of your favorites. Did you think about bedding her after Taniel canceled the wedding? I know you did. So suddenly available. How that must have tempted you.”

Tamas opened his third eye and stepped away from the wall. He could see Nikslaus’s bright glow in the Else through the wall. It was several dozen paces back from the corner. Closer, he could see the dull glow of the Warden and the barely perceptible glow that Vlora gave off in the Else. The Warden was using Vlora as a shield. Tamas would likely hit Vlora if he tried to angle a bullet around the corner.

“Throw your pistol down, Tamas, and I’ll let her live,” Nikslaus said.

“Why should I trust you?”

“You’ve no choice. The courtyard is filling up with soldiers. I don’t care how many mages you brought, you’re outnumbered and outmatched. You throw down your weapons and come out, and I give my word that this girl lives.”

“Why so magnanimous?” Tamas said. He drew his second pistol. He aimed one at the glow of the Privileged and one at that of the Warden.

“Not sure what’s come over me,” Nikslaus said. “Maybe it’s the prospect of your head on a pike!” His voice rose to a shout. “Think of it, Tamas. Only a couple months ago, it was me trapped inside a manor, while your soldiers filed into the courtyard. What a reversal of fortunes! Maybe I’ll cut off your hands before I kill you.”

Tamas examined the walls. Marble over limestone, most likely. To pierce it, he’d have to put half a horn’s worth of powder behind a bullet, and concentrate energy around the bullet to keep it from fragmenting. One, he could do. Not two.

“I wouldn’t take the time,” Tamas said. He lowered the pistol aimed at Nikslaus and uncocked the hammer. He set it on the floor and slid it out into the middle of the hall where the Warden could see it.

“I’m unarmed. Now let her go,” Tamas said.

“When I see you on your knees!” Nikslaus screamed.