Broken Rule | Chapter 39
This post is chapter thirty-nine of my not-previously-published epic fantasy novel Broken Rule, which I'm serializing here on Steemit.
The story so far:
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38
Lorne had followed Petro and Trapper when they left the cathedral with the priest. He had been hiding in an abandoned building with a clear view of the cathedral's ruins, waiting, hoping that someone would show up to try to deliver his new orders from the Black Circle, but seeing people he recognized was too great a temptation. He hadn't been able to move quickly enough to catch up to them when they went into the palace, so he had found a place on the plaza outside to sit and wait unobtrusively.
When the palace started to burn and people fled, he moved behind some hedges where he could watch what was happening, but not be seen himself. He was quite alarmed when the priest that had been walking with Petro stormed out of the palace and began hurling fire. Wizardry! His entire mission had revolved around it, and now here it was for him to see. He began to understand why the Black Circle was so concerned about it. The priest was murdering and destroying at a breathtaking rate. What would happen if a man like that were to go to Old Harbor? It was too horrible to even consider. He may not have orders from the Heart, but his own heart was clear enough on the matter. What the priest was doing was wrong, and he needed to be stopped.
When the giant stone statue had come, Lorne grew more concerned. If the statue and the priest were to work together it wouldn't take them long to lay waste to a city. Instead, they fought. Lorne quietly hoped that the problem would sort itself out, that the two wizards might destroy each other without him lifting a finger. But that was laziness, wasn't it? Wishing for order to appear instead of working to bring order to the world? The world was not a generous place, and Lorne's hopes were dashed. The Stone Woman was defeated, and still the priest was there, preparing to burn more and more. Hoping wasn't the way of the Hand. The Hand of the Black Circle must act. He must act.
But could he do anything? He hid, waiting for his time to strike. The priest dashed here and there across the plaza, shouting nonsense. Lorne wondered if what the priest was saying was mere mad ranting or if this was just some aspect of worship of the Most Holy that Bishop Vasili had never mentioned in their discussions. Either way, the man was dangerous and there would be no sense in trying to act against him without a plan. The fire that the man could summon to his hands was the primary danger, but there was another that Lorne had seen. Petro was watching the priest like a hawk, his axe at the ready. From what Lorne had seen when he followed them to the palace, Petro and the priest were friends. Lorne knew that Petro would try to stop him if he made a move.
Lorne stood perfectly still behind a hedge. The priest, breathing heavily, had finally stopped running. He had burned all of the people he could see in the plaza and was resting. Through sheer luck, the priest had positioned himself near the row of hedges that Lorne had used to conceal himself, and Petro was halfway across the plaza, too far away to interfere. Lorne's plan was hastily put together, but it was a sound plan. He crawled silently toward the priest and eyed his target through the hedge.
The priest bent over to catch his breath, his hands on his knees, facing away. His back was to Lorne, a mere ten yards away, a perfect target. Lorne pulled out his knife. He had never killed on a mission before, and in truth wasn't sure that he should be doing it now, but the Heart of the Black Circle wasn't here to tell him what to do. Waiting for them wasn't possible anymore. Lorne had seen what the priest had done with his own eyes, judged with his own heart, and now he would act with his own hand.
He pushed himself through a gap in the hedge and charged toward the priest. Lorne had barely begun his motion when Petro called out, “Learned, behind you!” Lorne had already begun to thrust with his knife when the priest turned. If Marek hadn't been so emaciated the knife might have found flesh, but it only bit into his vestments. Lorne had expected resistance from the man's body to halt his lunge, but when his knife found only cloth he had nothing to arrest his momentum and went sprawling onto the cobblestones. He scrambled and rolled onto his back, all the while hearing Petro's heavy footsteps running toward him. The big man arrived to tower over him. It probably saved his life, since the priest wasn't able to blast his fire around Petro's huge frame.
“Lorne?” Petro asked, dumbfounded. “Is that you? What are you doing? Gavril deserved what he got. There's no call to be loyal to a man like that.”
Petro was more interested in talking than in fighting. That was good. It would give Lorne time to formulate a new plan. He pulled himself into a crouch as he said, “What are you talking about?”
“You're trying to get revenge for Gavril. I know we told you he was a good leader, but we were wrong. He was a demon worshiper. Learned Marek was just giving him what he deserved. You should stop fighting and let Learned Marek bring you back to the light.”
Lorne had moved into a fighting stance. Low, ready to move as soon as Petro's axe started to come at him. If Petro's stories were to be believed he had been the victor in many fights, which gave him a distinct advantage over Lorne. But Lorne had spent weeks getting to know this man, and there had to be something he knew about him that he could use to get an advantage. What did he know about Petro? One thing he knew about Petro was that Trapper was never far away.
The moment the thought occurred to him, Lorne spun to his left, his left elbow thrown out at head height. Trapper had been creeping up behind him, and Lorne's elbow caught him in the temple. Trapper went down like a rag doll. Lorne turned the momentum from his spin into a roll over Trapper's unconscious form, and Petro's axe split the air where he had been a moment before.
Lorne sprang forward to push his whole body against Petro and buried his knife in Petro's gut. This close, there would be no way for Petro to bring his axe to bear effectively. Petro seemed to figure that out, too, and dropped the weapon in favor of grabbing Lorne in a mighty bear hug. Lorne cried out in agony, but twisted the knife. Petro convulsed in pain, loosening his grip, and Lorne slipped out. He stayed close to Petro, sliding around him like he was a pillar. His knife struck again, this time at the back of Petro's knee. Petro went down. Lorne knew that a wound like that would take the big man out of the fight. It might also keep him from ever walking again, but Lorne wasn't concerned about that now. He scanned the plaza for the priest.
Marek had been watching the fight, and Lorne saw him circling so that he could attack Lorne without catching Petro or Trapper in the blast. Time would only be to Marek's benefit, so Lorne charged him. He saw the priest's hands come up. Fire! Down! He somehow tucked into another roll in time, the white-hot beam of heat singing his back but not destroying him as the priest had intended. Lorne popped up at the end of his roll, his knife headed straight for Marek's throat. The priest instinctively raised his hands to defend himself, and Lorne's knife went through the muscle and sinew of Marek's left forearm. He pushed and twisted with all his might, but Marek was doing something with his right hand. An explosion of flame engulfed both of them. Lorne tried to scream, but his voice was lost in the roiling flames. Unable to see, unable to reason, unable to do anything except try to escape the pain, Lorne ran. And tripped. His legs hit the huge form of Petro, and he went head over heels. He hit the ground, and some of the flames went out. Petro, his knee still crippled, threw himself on top of Lorne, smothering the flames further. His weapon gone, his body burned who knew how badly, pinned under the crushing weight of a man twice his size, Lorne stopped struggling and went limp. Neither the initial engagement or the escape had gone perfectly this time, but Lorne considered it a far more successful plan than his previous interaction with a wizard.