The Radiant War

Chapter 12b

     He didn't waste a moment longer, therefore, but opened the door again and lunged through. As he'd expected, the two men had their backs to him, watching the door that had smears of his blood all over it. Servants, butlers or something, wearing stripy nightshirts and nightcaps and with bare feet. He hit the nearest as hard as he could on the back of the head with the hilt of his knife and the other man gave a cry or surprise and alarm, stumbling back away from him. Malone decided he wasn't a threat and ignored him, running away from him down the corridor towards the central part of the mansion. There was a lot of movement ahead of him, some very close. A maid in a nightdress suddenly appeared, screamed and disappeared through a door.

     “A dog man!” he heard someone saying behind him. “A bloody half raised dog! Not a human at all! Completely savage! He went that way!”

     Malone had been in the Brigadier's mansion enough times to know how they were laid out, and he headed towards where he expected the stairs up to the main family bedrooms to be. In his heart of hearts, though, he'd given up any hope of being able to accomplish his mission. It was all going wrong! His plan had been to sneak around the house while everyone was asleep. Kill Benjamin in his sleep and escape before anyone knew he'd even been there. They would wake up in the morning, be shocked when they discovered the killing...

     Now, though, the whole house was awake, and there were no doubt at least two, possibly more, trained killers between him and Benjamin. And even if he got past them, Benjamin himself was the most dangerous of all. As an adoptee, he almost certainly had the ability to cast curses, and most nobleman were trained in the use of duelling weapons as well. Malone was as good as dead.

     He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Every soldier knew they might find themselves in a situation like this sooner or later. He knew exactly what the Brigadier would do if he were here instead of him. His face would show not the slightest change of expression. He would simply ready himself to sell his life as dearly as possible. Very well, that’s what he would do. There would be no more butlers and maids ahead of him, he knew, and nothing he’d seen or heard suggested that Benjamin had other family members living with him. If he continued on towards the family bedrooms he would find himself facing trained killers. Benjamin's goons and bodyguards. That was good. It meant he could just kill everyone he came across until one of them killed him. He took a tighter grip of his knife, therefore, and took another deep breath before continuing on his way.

     His left arm was throbbing painfully. He tried to ignore it. Ahead was a flight of stairs, and standing half way up was a man he recognised. Dennis Wilks. One of the men who’d accompanied him when John Martin had brought him to meet Benjamin the first time. He'd been John Martin's henchman then. Now that John Martin had been taken to be adopted, Dennis Wilks had evidently been hired by Benjamin.

     The way to survive a fight, the Brigadier had always said, was by fighting, but attacking Dennis would be suicide. The man had a pistol in his hand and, being up the stairs, had the benefit of the high ground. Malone had to make Dennis come to him. He allowed himself to be seen, therefore, then skidded to a halt, his bare feet slipping on the varnished wooden floor. Then he ran back the way he’d come. There was a gunshot and Malone felt the bullet parting his hair as it zipped past his head. “There he is! Heading for the east sitting room!” Malone heard thumping footsteps on the stairs as the man pounded after him.

     In a battle between a man with a gun and a man with a knife, the gunman would always win if they were separated by more than four feet, but if they were closer than that the knifeman had the advantage. Malone had to draw him in close, therefore. He ducked into the first room he came to; a room that seemed to be filled only with shelves on which finely decorated porcelain plates were standing. He hid behind the door and tried to control his panicked breathing. If Dennis Wilks was lacking enough in discipline to just come running in...