Last Life

Book 3: Chapter 8

“YOUR WORSHIP! This way!”

I turned my head, hearing a familiar voice to my right. Pierre Claverie, the pikeman I had given a drink of diluted wine, was now signaling to me animatedly.

With a sharp burst forward, at the last moment I slipped between the pikemen’s shields as they, obeying hacking commands from their officers, started slowly stepping back and forming a solid formation with spears out in front.

“Shield wall!” a broad-shouldered bruiser barked wearing a silver lieutenant’s token on his chest. “Step to, punks! Keep Her Highness safe!”

“Get back!” the sergeant shouted into the crowd, his eyes flaring with rage. The man’s right cheek was crossed by a hideous, deep scar, making him look like an old fighting dog. “They’re trying to rise up!”

I ran further, thanking Pierre as I went.

“Get them!” The crowd roared back.

“They want to let the witches go!” a woman’s voice blared piercingly.

Once behind the soldiers, after running ten steps forward, I stopped and quickly looked around. The square around the temple was packed full of people. How many were there? A few thousand? On the backdrop of the raging ocean of screaming and roaring bodies, the formation of twenty pikemen slowly but surely walked back to the temple steps, looking like a tiny island.

The people, their faces warped by hate, were pushing forward in a single burst of fury. The bloodthirsty wave swallowed up the hesitant city folk from the first rows before it reached the shield wall. That morning, they had come with their families to a temple service, delighted that they could watch an execution so close to the platform. And now they and their children were dying beneath the feet of a monster with a thousand heads and a thousand voices.

The junior priests, wrapped in gray robes, flitted off toward the temple like a flock of frightened sparrows. Behind them, leaving their post by the criminals and drawing short swords, the Stone Knights followed in an organized fashion.

I saw some of the knights looking malevolently at the witches. They, chained up to granite posts with embedded steel rings, were essentially being sacrificed to the mob. All huddled together, the women looked like old moldering statues made of congealed ash. Left one-on-one against the enraged human mass, the witches got ready to make their lives come at as high a cost as possible.

A crazy idea came to mind suddenly, but I strangled it in the cradle. No... I was not going to be fast enough to save anyone. Even if I made it ahead of the crowd, how could I break the chains on their arms and legs? I could try to break the metal with energy pulses, but that would take time I simply did not have. And what if they weren’t made of common iron? No... It would be suicide. What did she even have in mind when she prayed for my help?

I felt sincerely sorry for the child, but my conscience was clean. The full responsibility for the girl’s death laid first and foremost on her grandmother, who allowed the situation to get out of control. And I was not going to die a fool’s death for someone else’s mistake.

Okay. I’d seen enough. Not wasting another minute, I ran for the nearest carriage. A moment later, I sensed a flash of mana behind me. The witches had begun their final battle. I didn’t know what they were using on the people dashing their way but, based on the shrieks and piercing screams of pain, it must have been something very nasty.

Before a minute was even up, the shrieks turned into a roar of triumph — the crowd must have gotten what it wanted. I turned in a flash and shuddered.

The witches’ bodies had essentially been torn to shreds. These once upstanding shopkeepers and housekeepers were now caked in blood and scowling menacingly as they leapt and flailed their arms in the air like primordial creatures.

And if I had given into my momentary impulse, my guts would now be littering the ground beneath these possessed half-people. The biggest paradox in the whole situation was the fact that tomorrow, if of course these people lived to see it, they would all revert to common law-abiding city folk. And go on living their quiet petit-bourgeois lives like nothing had happened.

As expected, now that the crowd had tasted blood but not sated their thirst, they obeyed the warlike cries to:

“Get the priests! They wanted to take mercy on unclean!”

“Get them!”

I ducked beneath the carriage just in the nick of time. Stones, sticks, and other heavy objects started flying at the pikemen, nobles, and priests from every direction.

A few of the junior priests, having decided to take shelter next to the unfinished platform, immediately paid the price for their languor and lack of foresight. They met the same fate as the people they had dragged out here to execute not one hour prior.

Once finished with the junior priests, the wave of blood-maddened city folk split into two.

The first half rolled at the pikemen, while the second, curving around the shield wall island, ran toward the main entrance to the temple where the nobles escorting the princess were standing with pale faces.

The senior priest, by the way, unlike his underlings, got his bearings in the blink of an eye. His white, gold embroidered garments flickered past the temple doors. In the same place, I saw the dark garments of the Stone Knights. They sure moved quick.

I should also note that the princess’ bodyguards reacted quickly. While the other nobles floundered and tried to flex their privilege, the princess’ personal guard picked her up in her “little box” and carried her around the temple.

Watching Captain de Scalon, I snorted in satisfaction. Smart move. A jam had formed in the temple doors composed of the bodies of the rich visitors who, driven mad with fear, were trying to take shelter in the abode of the Most Luminous Mother.

Based on the tell-tale bone armor, the head of the princess’ personal guard team was one of these royal strykers I’d heard so much about. If he was as powerful as combat mages I’d seen before, the princess was in good hands. The four bodyguards were also clearly no common soldiers. The king wouldn’t just trust his granddaughter to anyone. Guys like that probably had another way out already in mind for emergency situations. Probably many. Essentially, if I wanted out of this hell, it would be best to follow the example of the princess’ bodyguards.

Okay.

Getting out from beneath the carriage, I ran off after the guards as they rounded the corner of the temple. Loping like a hare, I raced forward. When I was just twenty steps from the corner of the building, I realized I was not the only person to be so observant.

People were running toward the corner the princess and her guards had just ducked behind. At first, I thought they were all like me and trying to find safety but, upon closer inspection, I realized they were not ordinary city folk. Their actions were just too coordinated and targeted. Then it hit me. They weren’t running for safety... They were chasing prey. It didn’t take a genius to realize who they were hunting.

Still, I didn’t believe that everything happening was a planned provocation orchestrated with the goal of murdering or capturing Carl III’s granddaughter either. If not for the princess’ capricious display provoking the already enraged crowd, the execution would have gone according to plan. And every player in the show would have gotten what they wanted. The onlookers could enjoy the sight of fresh blood, while the priests and aristocrats reinforced their reputation among the populace as foes of the unclean.

So then who were these people? Atalian spies who spotted an opportunity? Mercenaries hired by de Gondy or de Bauffremont now playing their part in the play? Or was I wrong to think ill of them? What if they were another component of the princess’ guard team who had previously been in plainclothes in the crowd and were now trying to cover the king’s granddaughter’s escape?

In one way or another, I didn’t actually care. These games were not for me. My task was to get out of the mess my own curiosity had gotten me into alive and unharmed.

Though I had a respectable excuse. I had to be certain Lada was not among the witches sentenced to die. Honestly though, I had to admit that even if she had been there, I would not have been able to help her.

I had to slow my pace and duck into the shade of the temple wall. Leaning against the warm wall, I stopped for a moment. Waiting for the strange group to round the corner, I kept going. Standing there, I counted twelve people. Scanning revealed nothing. I was just too far away. A dozen fighters against five bodyguards, one of whom was a combat mage... I’d have put my money on Captain de Scalon.

Cautiously peeking around the corner, I looked at what was happening. Aha... It couldn’t be the last option. The people who came after the princess were clearly not a support group. At the end of quite a wide gallery with statues lining the wall, a battle was being waged. And based on the many flashes of mana, one of the pursuers was also a stryker.

I breathed a heavy sigh and turned around. The people were raging and pushing. Alas, I would not be able to make it across the square. The only way out was through the ill-fated gallery.

I also would not be able to hide where I was. Very soon, the enraged crowd would be here.

“Damnation!” I hissed, unclipping the silver wing and stashing it in my pocket. Then, quickly pulling out my neckerchief, I tied it around the bottom half of my face.

As usual, the aura sapped energy from several bruts at once. Drawing my sword and dagger, I breathed a heavy sigh. If things kept going at this rate, it wouldn’t be long before I went broke buying new weapons to replace ones ruined by energy pulses.

Quietly stealing past on the wall and hiding behind statues, I moved forward. Walking up closer to the fight, I finally realized why Captain de Scalon decided to stand and fight rather than continue moving. It was very simple — there were two groups. The second was waiting for the princess and her bodyguards at the end of the gallery, blocking their path.

In total, there were more than twenty foes. Though now probably less. By the time I got there, four bodies were already lying on the marble floor motionless with pools of blood spreading beneath them.

Scanning revealed that one of the attackers was indeed a stryker. The rest were regular people.

While the combat mages fought amongst themselves, the ungifted combatants pressed the bodyguards up against the wall where a pale Princess Adèle was hiding. Her eyes shimmered, her hair was disheveled. Biting her lower lip and squeezing her little fists to her chest, she watched fatedly as five attackers standing behind their comrades hurriedly loaded small crossbows. Thanks to their excellent armor, the defenders survived the first volley, but it was clear they were all already wounded. One of them was barely holding on.

The second volley was incoming.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright purple ribbon behind the pedestal of a statue. The princess must have accidentally dropped it while running here.

The bad guys had their faces covered like me. We were also dressed similarly. Yet another tick in the column of the Atalian theory. Some of them were cursing in Vestonian, though. Clearly a ragtag bunch.

I bent down to pick up the little ribbon and tied it to my elbow. At least this could differentiate me from the attackers.

Strangely, the princess spotted me. Just as she did the ribbon on my elbow. Our gazes met. After I sent her a wink, she hit me with a wave of hate and scorn. Then her eyes shot up into her forehead. I had gotten started.

First of all, I attacked the crossbowmen. Before they could react, I took down three. Once the others noticed their brothers in arms start to die suddenly, they turned around and, casting their useless crossbows to the floor, started drawing short swords. I had achieved my primary goal — stopping them from reloading.

Then began a short dance with death I had to give all my effort. A few times, I thought I was done for, but every time death passed me by. If not for the timely arrival of the princess’ bodyguards and — most importantly Captain de Scalon — who helped take down my opponents, things easily could have turned out tragic for me. But nevertheless I took some damage. Grazes, a couple cuts, including one on my shoulder which proved quite deep. But in comparison to others, I still came away with just a little scare. Two of the princess’ bodyguards perished. The others were barely hanging on.

“Identify yourself!” de Scalon said to me when it was all over. Noticing that I was cautiously backing away from the gallery, he burst forward but the princess stopped him.

“Captain! I order you to stop. If not for the young noble’s timely intervention, I’d have died. He stopped the crossbowmen!”

After what the princess said, de Scalon winced as if he’d eaten a lemon, but stopped.

“Your Highness, you’re too trusting,” he came with a sigh, watching fatedly as I made my way for the coveted exit. “And what makes you think he is a noble?”

“Only nobles are capable of acting so gallantly!” the princess exclaimed, proudly thrusting her chin up while a rosy glow appeared on her pale cheeks. “I am right, aren’t I?!”

“Entirely so, Your Highness!” I said with the most gallant bow I could muster, removing my hat. If Bertrand had seen it, he’d probably have been proud of his student. “But alas, I cannot tell you my name. Sooner or later, you will find out though! All I can say is I am no enemy to you, and I sincerely thank all the gods for giving me the chance to be here at the right time!”

I looked significantly at the purple ribbon on my elbow.

“I hope you forgive me this small impertinence, Your Highness!” I said with another bow. “And now, with your permission, I have to be going!”

Before ducking into a passage, I saw a dreamy smile on the princess’ face. Ahem... I was afraid to even imagine what kind of fantasies were swirling in her head. Probably just like in a romance novel about knights. A mysterious stranger saving the beautiful princess. She was probably not thinking about how hundreds had died in the last hour and how, tangentially, blame for their deaths lied on her.

Even if she reached that conclusion, her grandfather the king would set her right in short order. Heh... Would he ever! His only and beloved granddaughter was not to blame for a thing! It was all the priests, witches, rabble... Anyone but her.

Still, for fairness’ sake, it should be noted that Adèle had good intentions. She was just trying to save a poor little girl from dying. How was she supposed to know how things would turn out?

And those vile thoughts occupied my mind the whole way home. I had to note that the authorities reacted quite effectively. The streets of the old capital were flooded with city guard divisions. A few times, I had to change directions to avoid trouble and constantly check if someone was trailing me.

One time, I was stopped along with a few other city dwellers. But the sergeant at the head of the guard division spotted the silver wing I’d pinned back on the lapel of my doublet and let me get on my way without any talking.

When I saw my buggy at the gates, I breathed a sigh of relief. Jacques had not let me down. The old war dog sensed something was wrong immediately. Were it Bertrand in his place... I was afraid to even consider what might have happened. The old man would never have left his post waiting for me. Heh... I had just been casting blame on a teary-eyed little girl, but my actions had put those dear to me at risk as well.

And here they were. They must have seen me through the window. They all spilled out onto the porch together. Jacques, Bertrand, Gunnar, and Kevin. My old servant ran straight over to me. Gasping and panting, he looked over my now shredded clothing. Seeing the blood on my shoulder, Bertrand gave a soft cry of fear.

“Draw me a hot bath, if you would,” I came.

My valet immediately started giving orders to Gunnar and Kevin, hurrying after them as he did.

“Well?” Jacques snorted. “Satisfy your curiosity?”

“Heh,” I shook my head. “You wouldn’t believe whose acquaintance I made today...”

I started walking toward the porch when I heard the patter of hooves behind me. Turning, I saw a rider bearing the de Gramont chevron on his chest. Hm... So, was this one of the retinue men who escorted Max’s cousins to Abbeville?

“Chevalier Renard!” he said to me. “Message for you from His Lordship the Count de Gramont! I was ordered to take a reply.”

Accepting the small scroll he extended, I unfurled it and read the brief message. As expected, my cousin had complained to his dad about me. I now had to go for a family lunch in the de Gramont manor in the New Capital.

“Tell His Lordship that I accept his invitation.”

The retinue man gave a mocking twinge of the lip, jerked back on the reins and galloped away.