He stumbled forward, falling to his knees before the tablet that bore his mother's spirit."Mother," he whispered, his voice cracking."Mother, I'm scared.I don't know what to do.Everyone is dying, and I'm—I'm all alone."
The unlit candles flickered alive.Chinedu’s head snapped up.He scrambled to his feet, backing away.His foot caught on a loose stone—one of the floor tiles, shifted by age or neglect.He stumbled, flailing, and his hand struck the edge of a column.
The tablets shuddered.One fell.Another.A third.
A grinding sound came soon after.
One of the larger tablets—a carved piece of marble bearing the name of an ancestor Chinedu didn't recognise—slid sideways, revealing a dark opening behind it.A hidden passage.The strange sound of hissing came from the dark, and the boy gulped.
Fate, it seemed, had other plans for the last prince of Borjigin.
The throne room of the Borjigin palace had become a slaughterhouse.
Altansarnai's elite guard held the doors, their curved blades wet with the blood of Somadina's remaining loyalists.The Borjigin prince stood at the far end of the hall, backed against his own throne, a sword in his hand that he barely knew how to use.His guards lay dead or dying around him.His courtiers had fled or been cut down trying.The great hall where he had hosted a feast just hours ago now stank of iron and voided bowels.
Altansarnai walked through the carnage, each step striking fear into the hearts of his enemies.
He hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Somadina."He spoke the name, drawing it out as if to taste it."Son of an Igwe.Grandson of an Igwe.Great-great-grandson of an Igwe.All that blood, all that breeding, and look at you.Shaking.Sweating.Backed into a corner like a rat."
Somadina's grip tightened on his sword."My city—"
"Your city is mine."Altansarnai kept advancing, his men fanning out to block any escape."Your people are mine.Your throne is mine.The only thing left that might have been yours is that woman, but I had her on her back in my room."He smiled."She fought.I liked that.Made it interesting."
Somadina's face went white, then red."You are not a man of honour!"
"Honour?"Altansarnai laughed."Speaking of honour to a warlord is like asking a fish to climb a tree.At least fight; it'll make your defeat more interesting."
Somadina screamed and charged.
It was almost pathetic.
Altansarnai sidestepped the wild swing, caught Somadina's wrist, and twisted until the sword clattered to the stone floor.A knee to the gut doubled the prince over.A fist to the back of the neck sent him sprawling at the foot of his own throne.
Altansarnai placed a boot on his spine and leaned down, speaking conversationally.
"You gave me your city.You gave me your woman.You gave me everything, and you got nothing in return except the privilege of dying on your father's floor."He pressed down, feeling vertebrae shift."I want you to know that.In your last moment, I want you to understand exactly how completely you lost."
Somadina's fingers scrabbled at the stone.His mouth moved, but no words came out.
Altansarnai raised his sword.
The blade never fell.
A sharp, burning pain erupted in his side—just below the ribs, angling up, aiming for his kidneys.A trained fighter, trained enough to know his armour's weakpoints.Altansarnai's breath left him in a rush.He looked down and saw steel protruding from his own flesh, blood streaming down his armour.
Altansarnai spun, or tried to—the blade in his side made the movement awkward and painful.He stumbled back, creating quick distance, one hand going to the wound, and found himself staring at a man he had been told was dead.
Ragnar Valthorne.Behind him, the bodies of Altansarnai's elite guard lay scattered, removed from existence without even a scream.Unhurried, he bent to pick up a new sword.He was taller than the stories said.Younger.His eyes were the colour of coal, and they held absolutely nothing akin to mercy.
"You're dead."Altansarnai's voice came out strangled."The box—the body—"
"Was very convincing," Ragnar agreed.He walked across the room, coming closer."My compliments to the Igwe at your feet.He did excellent work verifying the corpse."He tilted his head."Completely wrong, of course, but thorough."
Altansarnai's men moved to intercept him.
In the blink of an eye, they had fallen.
