<hr>


    Chapter 21


    It’s Nothing Personal


    Tanlor dutifully followed the prince and his guards.


    The prince swayed as he walked, although not as much as Tanlor would have expected considering how much wine the man had drunk. Since arriving the Prince had put away as much drink than most men would drink in a year. And not cheap stuff either, these were all Reinish wines and whitewhiskeys from the more renowned distilleries. The man had even paid Tanlor’s entire month’s salary worth on a single glass of wine in the White Foxes earlier that night.


    Prince Daegan was chatting nonsense to Captain Ferath—a good man, in Tanlor’s opinion. He was friendly with the other Dukesguards, and Tanlor had seen him in the sparring grounds a number of times although not faced him himself, the man’s skill with a blade was certainly worthy of envy. Tanlor had little desire to ever be on the opposing side of the man in a battle.


    However, Ferath’s paramount skill was undoubtedly his ability to listen to the drivel this crip—hindered—prince spat from his mouth each day. Even now, as the prince blabbered on about the poker game he had with Duke Orland’s son, Captain Ferath nodded along and seemed incredibly interested.


    Intently interested.


    Tanlor felt a tension rise in his shoulders, something seemed very off about the way Captain Ferath walked alongside his prince. He was far too focused on the man, as a bodyguard he should be more focused on his surroundings and potential dangers… especially in a foreign land. His stride was purposeful and firm, Tanlor recognised his gait as a man that was readying to jump into a battle. Tanlor tried to dismiss the thought, but the more he watched, the more uncertain he became.


    This is not a man on guard duty. This is a man who is ready to kill.


    As the group strode into the eastern tower, they passed a pair of gate guards; he recognised both men Palace guard. Tanlor hung back a little so as to be out of earshot of Captain Ferath.


    “Send for Captain Keltin,” he whispered, hurriedly, “have him come to Prince Daegan’s quarters with a squadron. Tell him something is amiss with Prince’s guard.” The gate guards exchanged a confused look with each other but they nodded and without question, one of them dashed off back toward the main palace building. Tanlor trotted to catch back up with the Prince and his guards; there were three of them including Ferath.


    The man turned his head toward Tanlor as he caught up, his eyes narrowing. Tanlor also didn’t miss that Ferath’s hand moved slowly toward the hilt of his sword.


    “Apologies.” Tanlor said, off-handedly, “I thought I had spotted an old acquaintance.”


    “A girl?” Prince Daegan asked, a smirk on his mouth.


    “No… unfortunately,” Tanlor returned with a disarming smile, “but in either case, I was mistaken.” Ferath’s hand did not move away from the hilt of his sword and he eyed Tanlor suspiciously.


    Tanlor nodded forward down the hallway, “should we be moving on?”


    The group continued along the hallway and Prince Daegan launched back into his retelling of the poker game from earlier that evening. Tanlor took a steadying breath.


    I’m probably overreacting.


    Keltin wouldn’t be upset by Tanlor being overly cautious and it wasn’t as though Tanlor had a history of false alarms. Keltin had always encouraged the Dukesguard to trust their gut in any situation and there was certainly something in Ferath’s demeanor that was making Tanlor uneasy. He just couldn’t place exactly what it was. The man had always been a bit aloof but friendly enough, tonight he was acting very strange.


    As the group climbed the steps that lead up to the apartments, the prince prattled on,


    “Ugh, to think that at home there is a treaty feast happening tonight… and I’m stuck here, playing poker and retiring before the sun has even risen,” he sighed, dejectedly.


    They passed another pair of the Palace guardsmen at the top of the stairs, again they were men that Tanlor recognised.


    “I bet my brother’s entertaining some Keiran Honorsword right now,” Daegan slurred, “probably some sexy red-eyed one… have you ever seen a woman Honorsword, Ferath?”


    “Can’t say I have, my lord,” Ferath replied.


    “Me neither, maybe the Keirans are all”—the prince fumbled for his words—“you know—like you lot,” he mumbled, waving a hand at Tanlor, “sexist and what-not.”


    The group proceeded on into the Prince’s apartments and when Tanlor moved to follow them, the captain turned, blocking his path, “thank you for the escort, sir Tanlor,” he said, firmly.


    “You can come in for a whitewhiskey, Tanlor, if you wish?” the prince offered despite Tanlor on many previous occasions telling the man that he didn’t drink.


    “Duke of Hardhelm sent over a casket of good twenty-five year,” Daegan said, tossing his jacket over a chair, “as old as that daughter he keeps trying to push on me.”


    Tanlor hesitated with the offer, he had never shown any form of sociability to the Prince and to start now could possibly alert Captain Ferath to Tanlor’s suspicion. The prince’s words about Danielle’s father trying to cajole Daegan into pursuing her, also gave him a bitter spark of jealousy. He didn’t particularly want to spend any more time with the man.


    “I’m sure you have other duties this evening” Captain Ferath interjected, keeping a hand on the door, barring Tanlor’s path.


    Why are you acting so strange?


    “No, thank you, Prince Daegan,” Tanlor said, “Captain Ferath is correct… I have rounds to make. Goodnight my lord” He bowed his head, turned and made his way back down the stairs.


    Where he waited.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ***


    “Odd man, that Tanlor,” Daegan said, undoing his vest and walking over to the whitewhiskey decanter, “Although I do enjoy his friends. That old terrible storyteller and that Davan fellow—I think that was his name anyway.” He took a hearty gulp of the whitewhiskey, it burned his throat and filled fire in his stomach. A new habit he’d picked up in the last few weeks here, it was so cold that he enjoyed having a glass of the stuff before getting between the frigid sheets.


    The other highborn in this place keep a heated topaz by their beds to heat the sheets before getting in, no doubt.


    Daegan himself could not avail of such a luxury so he made do with a glass or two of whitewhiskey. He poured himself out a glass, and turned to face the captain, “Do you want one, Ferath?” he offered. Ferath shook his head, and the solemn look on his face gave Daegan pause.


    Ferath calmly drew his blade. The silver curved sword, sliding noiselessly out of its sheath.


    “Ferath?” Daegan yelped, “w-what’s happening?” instinctively, he glanced about the living room looking for the danger.


    But there was nothing.


    “What are you doing, Ferath?” He blustered.


    “It’s nothing personal,” Ferath said sadly. He took a slow step towards Daegan, the other pair of guards standing by the door, not looking at him or Ferath.


    “Ferath, this is a weird joke,” Daegan choked, but already he knew this wasn’t a joke. The tension in the room was palpable while Ferath was slowly walking towards him. Daegan took an instinctive step back and stumbled into the table with the decanter, it dropped and smashed. Daegan darted for the balcony doors to his left and Ferath was quickly upon him.


    “Guards!” Daegan roared. Ferath swung and Daegan leapt backwards out onto the large balcony patio. He had no sword on him… why would he? The cold air rushed at him, fuelling his adrenaline.


    “Why, Ferath?” Daegan shrilled, rounding to face the men.


    “Like I said, it’s nothing personal,” Ferath replied evenly, taking another lunge at Daegan. Daegan lept back and felt the palisade of the balcony at his back.


    “Nothing personal? This seems very fucking personal!”


    His training he had as a boy was kicking in, training he had done with Ferath. He quickly scanned his eyes over the balcony patio for any kind of weapon. Daegan could hear now the Duke’s guards in the main living room and clanging of steel. “Out here!” he shouted, as Ferath took another swing. Daegan evaded again but Ferath’s blade seared hot across his shoulder as he twisted away along the palisade. His heart was beating so fast, he could feel it throbbing in his shoulder, the pain dulled by the adrenaline.


    “This will be over quicker if you just stop,” Ferath said, again lacking in any emotion.


    “Yeah—I’ll just stop and let you fucking kill me!” Daegan snapped as he leapt away before Ferath could strike again. He reached for a plant pot, grabbing it chucking with all his force at his former bodyguard. Ferath, sidestepped and lunged out again with his blade. Daegan attempted to sidestep towards the balcony doors but slipped and crashed down against the ground. His shoulder was hot from his blood, a sharp contrast to the frost coated tiles. He looked over to what he slipped on and saw the handgun in arms reach, the one gifted to him from Guildmaster Grimsworth right where he’d left it on the night of his arrival. He launched himself, which was more of an awkward body shuffle, toward it. His fingers clasped the grip and he spun on Ferath.


    In his fall, Daegan hadn’t noticed one of the Dukesguards had made it to the balcony and was trying to jab Ferath with his spear. In close range like this, Ferath easily evaded and thrust his sword into the guardsman’s neck. Blood sprayed across the tiles as the man slumped to the ground.


    Daegan didn’t hesitate and fired the pistol, missing the first shot. In a panic and still lying on his back he took a second shot without properly aiming, missing again, followed by a quick succession of two more, none impeding Ferath’s path. Through panic Daegan struggled to understand how he was missing at such close range.


    I’m pointing it right at him! Work, damn you!


    Ferath charged him, it was a reckless move in the small confines and Daegan understood that he was now rushing to finish him. Daegan, still on his back, kicked himself backwards and took another shot; this one landed in Ferath’s torso. The man grunted and faltered. As he did so, Tanlor burst from the balcony doors, his great bastard sword swinging in a large arc. Ferath didn’t attempt a parry, and instead evaded the swing and attempted to step into Tanlor’s reach. Tanlor was evidently very well practised with a larger sword in small spaces, he fell into a low kneel with his swing, twisting his body around to take another swing at Ferath who had to jump back to avoid being sliced in half.


    Tanlor rose and fluidly placed himself between Daegan and Ferath. Both men were staring at each other, weighing the other man’s abilities. Daegan had never seen Tanlor spar, but the other Dukesguards had claimed he was a formidable opponent.


    “Drop your weapon,” Tanlor said through gritted teeth.


    “This doesn’t concern you,” Ferath said, calmly.


    “This is the Duke’s palace so it does concern me, now lower your weapon”


    Six bullets, Daegan remembered. Six bullets he had fired that evening when testing the weapon. Ferath had refilled the barrel for him. And he had just shot four meaning he had two shots left. He stepped out from behind Tanlor and levelled the gun at Ferath, taking a moment to take a breath and aim at him.


    “Tell me now, Ferath, why are you doing this?” He could feel the quiver in his own voice, breaking from fear and confusion. Blood was dripping from Ferath’s gunshot wound and now faced against the two armed men, he hesitated. Daegan took a step closer, but Tanlor held out his arm. “Don’t go within his range, my lord. Captain Keltin and the rest of the guard are on their way”


    “Speak Ferath!” Daegan shouted, his fear and fury untamed, “What orders are you acting on?”


    Ferath looked at him and smiled. And then he vanished in a cloud of dust


    Vanished!


    He didn’t run or dive over the balcony. For a fraction of second the man had appeared to be falling into the ground has the cloud of dust rose up but then he was gone.


    Daegan gasped and Tanlor swiftly raised his sword into a counterstance position. Both men held their positions until the cloud of dust settled, revealing nothing. Slowly, Tanlor edged toward the spot where Ferath had been standing, glancing about the balcony for any sign of the man. After verifying he had indeed disappeared, he kicked at the settled dust.


    “The tiles are all gone,” Tanlor mused in confusion, “but other than that it seems solid.


    tapping the ground with his boot.


    Daegan hesitantly stepped over, also looking about the balcony for any sign of Ferath. Inside the apartments he saw his other two guards, Karsel and Timms both lying dead on the floor along with another of the Duke’s guards. He walked out to the balcony and peeked over the edge but saw nothing but the deep blackness of the sky and the few remaining lights of the city below. Tanlor was next to him leaning far out over the balcony, trying to see into the balcony below.


    “Is Ferath a talented stonebreaker?” he asked and Daegan shook his head.


    “I-I don’t think so, at least he never mentioned it before.”


    But then again, Ferath had attacked him. There was obviously a lot the man was hiding from Daegan… Tanlor pulled back from the balcony, “I’ve heard of master stonebreakers, who can disintegrate a stone wall and reform it in a few moments… but a regular soldier and in a few seconds? It doesn’t add up. How long has he been in your service?”


    Daegan was still shaking his head. I need—I need to sit down. His mind was racing, I need to get home… I need to get out of here. Ferath, he—how could he? Why would he?


    “My other guards, we must wake them. Thalan also.” Daegan said eventually, looking to Tanlor.


    “I’m not sure they can be trusted right now,” Tanlor replied, “You were just attacked by your own men. We should wait for Keltin. He will know what to do.”


    <hr>