Novel 2. Royal Justice

— What kind of ambush?

— Ambush... ambush with crossbows. There are three enchanted arrows for fire. The rest are regular. The gamekeeper will lead the queen quickly, the retinue will fall behind, there'll be fewer close guards than us. We'll fire a volley at point-blank range, and if that doesn't work, we'll finish them off in hand-to-hand combat.

— How'd the main force get there? Describe the route.

With a slurred tongue, the mercenary laid out the information they needed. Armando rose with a sigh:

— Gotech, pull up his pants.

The bailiffs moved farther away so that the exhausted prisoner could not hear them. Glancing sideways at the log on which the failed falsetto had collapsed, Ardano muttered:

— We're in trouble. It's true. The queen doesn't like entertainment, but she does go hunting sometimes, they say, to keep in shape and take a break from the palace. She takes very few people with her.

— Yes, — De Gorazzo sighed. He felt little better than the mercenary left on the log. — What are we going to do?

— Do we have a choice? — Gotech raised his eyebrows. — We go to the city, report to the Count.

— By the time we get to the capital, by the time we report, by the time they check the information, by the time they send for the queen, by the time they find her in the forest... — Armando bit his lip. — It would all be over long ago.

— Well... no matter how it ends, it won't be our fault. We did what we could. — The big man shrugged.

— Yeah, but did we do everything? What if the ambush succeeds?

— It wouldn't be our fault anyway.

— Yeah, only... who do you think organized all this?

— The Duke de Veronni, to a fool's eye. He's next in line to the throne.

— Exactly. — The young bailiff slammed his palm on his hand. — The queen dies, de Veronny becomes king... How long do you think you and I will live after that?

— Damn it. — Gotech grinned angrily and slammed his fist on his forehead.

— And then... — Armando paced back and forth, kicking piles of leaves and clumps of snow. With a slightly bewildered smile, he splayed his hands. — You know I like Queen Octavia. More than the Duke, and in general... She's young, beautiful, and she's ruling the country well so far.

— So that's your criteria for a good ruler? — smirked the giant. — Young and beautiful?

Armando closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the slender black-haired girl who had listened to his oath of office with a serious face and a smile in her eyes. He nodded:

— Criteria as good as any, just so you know.

— So...

— Since our guest gave away the ambush position, we're going straight to the royal forest. To save Her Majesty. I don't know how, really. We'll figure it out on the way. Do you mind?

— Not at all. — Still grinning, Gotech rubbed his chin with fingers as thick as wieners. — "Queen's savior" — that'll sound great when I come to match. And if the queen agrees to attend the wedding... Let's go, my friend. Now.

Chapter 4

The temptation to take the prisoner with them was great, but to carry him across the rump of one of the horses would only slow the bailiffs down. So they tied him tightly to a tree, gagged him, and built a new fire nearby.

— Pray for our health,— Armando said to the thug as he tightened the last knot. — If we live, we'll come back for you before you die. If we die, don't be sorry. No one else knows you're out here. And don't worry, we ain't seen no wolves around here in a long time.

He and Gotech checked their equipment as they rode past the camp. The royal servants were not going to fight when they left the capital, and they had taken few weapons with them. Both had light crossbows. Ardano had a short-handled axe attached to his saddle, and de Horatso had his grandfather's broad sword hanging from his belt. His father's much more decent sword was left rusting somewhere on the fields of the last war, next to his father's bones. The bailiffs replaced their armor with sturdy leather jackets lined with fur, their helmets with ordinary warm hats. However, even full knight's armor would hardly help them against half a dozen thugs. Armando knew where to look for the other killers, thanks to the long tongue of the overtired prisoner, but the young official had no idea what he would do with them when he found them.

— The best thing would be to meet the Queen's retinue and warn her, — he said to Gotech, who was riding beside him. — But as it happens, the ambush is in a specific place, and the hunters will be moving all over the forest... Even if we hear the horns of the hunters, we won't know where Octavia is.

— The traitor will have to lead Her Majesty to the assassins anyway, — said the giant, as calm as ever. There was no trace of the brief confusion that had possessed him recently. — If we find the ambush, we'll find the queen.

— Yes, — Armando nodded, more to himself than to his comrade. — And then we'll see.

They could not gallop, and not only because of Gotyeh's horse. Trying to gallop down a forest path was a far more certain death than fighting a band of mercenaries. The only question was what would happen first — whether you would meet a deep ravine behind an unexpected turn or a sharp branch at the level of your face. They had to ride at a quick pace, sometimes at a trot. The sun was rising higher and higher, peeking out from behind the tops of the bare trees, and Armando's anxiety was growing. The young bailiff fidgeted in his saddle, glancing back and forth, biting his lip. After checking everything he could in his equipment, tightening every strap, he suddenly muttered under his breath:

— It's a pity we don't have Vittoria with us. Her dead birds would have scouted and delivered the message in no time. She's not much of a rider, though. She's a city girl.

Gotech grinned, but said nothing. Soon the riders were past the old clearing separating the simple forest from the crown forest and into the hunting grounds of the royal family. After another quarter of an hour, Ardano pointed to hoofprints in the thin snow:

— Look at that. Fresh.

— And they lead in the right direction — de Gorazzo nodded. — Can you estimate how many men have passed?

— More than a dozen for sure. — Gotech turned his horse to follow the trail. — The bastard didn't fool us.

The snow was not yet solid, but there were patches of dark earth and wet leaves. The farther away from the clearing, the deeper into the forest, the more there were. The leaves kept the prints of horseshoes much worse than snow. At one point the bailiffs dismounted to get a better view of the tracks, and then Armando threw his horse's bridle over a convenient bough.

— I'm guessing we're close. We go quietly from here.

— You know I'm a master of stealth, — Gotech grinned, jumping down from his saddle. De Gorazzo felt the ground shake with a slight thud.

— That's why you keep twenty paces behind. Don't lose sight of me, but don't get too close.

Armando, with crossbow at the ready, crept from bush to bush, his companion following as smoothly as he could, crouching low. Suddenly de Gorazzo heard a low horse snorting ahead. He gestured to Gotech to stop, and continued on his own half-crouched, keeping his head below the dry bushes. Fifty paces later he came to a deep hollow at the base of a wooded hill, where a small herd of horses was crowded together. The horses were being tended by a bored mercenary. He chewed on a straw and stared at the top of the hill with a dazed stare. Tucked behind the sprawling roots of an old oak, Armando waited a moment, looking around. Everything indicated that the mercenary was alone here. The royal bailiff took the captured crossbow off his shoulder and put it beside him in case he missed the first shot. He took careful aim with his own weapon and held his breath. He pulled down the bowstring. The arrow struck the mercenary in the back of the head, and he slumped to the ground without a sound. The slam of the bowstring seemed like a thunderclap, and the horses that saw the corpse became agitated, but the noise attracted no one's attention. Armando went back a little way, waving his hand to Gotech. The two of them dragged the dead man away, and the herd, sheltered in a hollow, quieted down at once.

— Where to now? — The black-skinned giant asked in a businesslike tone. He seemed to like what was happening much better than Armando. Not surprising, considering that Gotech had once been a soldier.

— Up.

The top of the hill was practically bald, and the bailiffs crept up it, so as not to give themselves away early. Finding shelter again near the roots of a dead tree crowning the hill, de Gorazzo propped himself up on his elbows and looked down. As he had expected, the opposite slope also ended in a long, deep hollow. Only this one was not occupied by horses... The dark jackets of the mercenaries blended with the damp fallen leaves covered with snow. But the bailiff did not need to count the killers, he already knew how many there were — exactly fifteen. The thugs were crouched at the edge of the hollow, each holding a loaded crossbow.

— Why are they downstairs and not here? — The bailiff asked in a whisper. — The view is better from here.

— Even two of us can be seen from a distance, not like such a crowd, — said Gotech, who was also looking at the mercenaries. — And they'll bring the victim right to them anyway, so why the view? The bastard said they'd fire a volley at point-blank range, and then go into the melee.

— Can we shoot them in the back from here, do you think? — Armando frowned. Here they were, and still no plan. No good improvisations came to mind.

— No chance. Even with four crossbows. The slope's not that steep. Once they figure out where the arrows are coming from, they'll come up and slaughter us.

— Then maybe...

Armando hesitated. The sound of a hunting horn came from far away. One on the right, one on the left. And a third closer. The last horn sounded especially clear and resounding.

— Hunters. — De Gorazzo picked up a handful of wet leaves from the ground and clenched them in his fist. — And the third...

— Her Majesty... — Gotech exhaled.

The hunters came into view suddenly, spilling out from behind the trees. It was easy to recognize the young queen among them. Octavia the Ninth rode just behind the huntsman, standing in the stirrups and holding a thick spear in one hand. Of course, on the hunt, the girl did not dress in her famous armor — instead of plate, she wore a black and gold men's suit, tightly fitting slender figure. The queen's head was covered only by a small triangular cap with a feather, and her loose hair, the color of a crow's wing, fell in heavy waves over her shoulders. "And she's even more beautiful than I remember..." — Armando thought out of place. The hunters, meanwhile, were moving straight toward the ambush, apparently going around the hill.

— What are we doing? There's no time. — Gotech looked at his comrade with a sidelong glance. Armando's eyes darted from the mercenaries below to the hunters in front of them. The decision came in a flash, like an epiphany. The assassins planned to shoot only at point-blank range? Well... The young bailiff placed his crossbow on a comfortable bend in a dry root, took aim. Swallowing, he offered a short prayer to the heavens and fired. Two perfect shots in a single day was an incredible stroke of luck for a less than perfect marksman, but de Gorazzo had succeeded. It was hard to believe that the Creator had responded and guided the bailiff's hand. The arrow he fired struck the belly of the traitor huntsman, who was riding at the head of the hunters. Armando was aiming for the chest, but it was good enough. The huntsman collapsed and began to fall from the saddle. The young queen sharply laid down her horse, and her companions immediately found themselves beside her, took her in a ring and covered her with themselves. And in the hollow below the hill there was some confusion — the mercenaries definitely thought that one of their own had fired before the time. The confusion, unfortunately, lasted only moments. Octavia's escort had no sooner turned back than the assassins fired a volley. Distance and not the most convenient position did their job — the mercenaries had to aim at the horses. Three enchanted arrows struck the ground in front of the riders, sending fountains of earth, fire, and smoke into the sky. When the veil dissipated, Armando saw horses thrashing in agony and men lying motionless on the ground. A few horses with empty saddles were rushing away, sounding a frightened roar through the crown forest. None of the hunters remained in the saddle. But a lone figure in black rose to his feet. Queen Octavia, who had lost her cap but appeared to be completely unharmed, stood up, staggered slightly, drew her sword in a decisive movement... and immediately disappeared behind the guards. De Gorazzo counted seven — most of the arrows had indeed gone to the horses.

— R-r-r-r-ra-a-a-a-arg! — The mercenaries did not reload their crossbows. They knew that the main part of the royal retinue would be here soon, and time was running out for them. With swords, spears, and axes, the assassins swept over the edge of the hollow and charged at Octavia's escort, cheering themselves with fierce yells.

— And what are we now? — No longer fearing to be seen, Gotech straightened up, shook off his pants.

— What do you mean, what? — Armando, to his own surprise, was seized with excitement. If they're going to do the job, they're going to do it to the end. — Their backs are before us. Let's go!

They ran down the slope, drawing their weapons as they went. The mercenary squad clashed with the queen's bodyguards, and almost immediately two shrieking royal bailiffs slammed into their rear. De Gorazzo saw his friend use a hook to grab the neck of one of the assassins, jerk open his throat, and then the young official had no more time for that. The queen's guards could not hold the formation, their thin line crumbling under the onslaught of the enemy. The fight immediately turned into a chaotic massacre among the trees, with one fighting two, two fighting three, clusters of fighting men bumping into each other, and fighters switching sides. Armando jabbed the point of his sword into the back of a man's neck, chopped another man's hand, fended off a weak blow from an axe, shoved a mercenary with his shoulder, ducked under the swing of a sword, tripped over a man's foot, fell face down, and jumped up in a hurry.

And he saw Queen Octavia right in front of him. The black-haired girl stood with her back against a broad oak tree, skillfully fighting off three assassins with her sword. There were no bodyguards nearby, and a trickle of blood was running down the queen's forehead, pouring into one eye, so Armando didn't hesitate for even a second. Emitting a cat screech instead of a battle cry, the bailiff sprang at one of Octavia's opponents, sliced him in the knees from behind, and attacked the other. The mercenary turned, took the blow to the hilt of his sword, and deftly kicked de Gorazzo in the shin. Armando yelped, fell on his side, and pressed his own sword against his body... and the young queen, pushing her elbows off the tree, sprang forward. With two swift lunges, she slashed the assassin's right wrist and belly, and turned on her heels toward the last remaining enemy. He, armed with a light infantry spear, put all his strength into a swift jab — Octavia did not have time to defend herself, the tip slid along her ribs, cutting the black fabric of her winter jacket. The girl pressed the spear against her side with her elbow, grabbed the shaft with her free hand, and with a single swing of her sword finished the spearman before he could release his weapon and retreat.