"You and you, with me," ordered Savelda. "The rest of you, with the marquis."
And, followed by the two men he had selected, he disappeared through a door leaving the gentleman and four swordsmen in the courtyard.
Gagniere went over and tried to open the same door, only to find it had been locked from within. He then stared at the half-blood, who met his glance and smiled at him from beyond the row of freebooters, as if they were an insignificant obstacle separating the two of them. This idea wormed its way into the mind of the marquis and he became frightened.
Gathering up a sword from a dead body that had fallen from the walkway above, he cried: "Attack!"
Themselves unnerved by Saint-Lucq's predatory calm, the hired swordsmen flinched and then rushed forward. The half-blood parried two blades with his rapier, planted and then left his dagger in the belly of his first opponent, and spun round and slit the throat of the second with a reverse thrust. In one smooth motion he ducked down in front of a drac who was preparing to strike high, slipped under his arm, and stood up, throwing the
reptilian over his shoulder. The drac fell heavily on his back and Saint-Lucq lunged to pierce the chest of the remaining mercenary, whom he disarmed. Then, completing his murderous choreography, he brought the rapier he had just acquired to a vertical position, and without looking, pinned the drac to the ground with it.
Expressionless, the half-blood turned to stare once again at Gagniere.
There was still a wyvern in the enclosure, although no doubt it would have fled earlier if it had not been chained up. Saint-Georges struggled to saddle it and he already had one boot in the stirrup when, amidst the racket of the storm, he heard distinctly: "Step back."
Bruised, wounded, and bleeding, Laincourt stood a few metres behind him, pointing a pistol. He was a sorry sight, but there was an almost fanatical light in his eyes.
"Obey," he added. "I'm just waiting for an excuse to blow your brains out."
Without making any sudden moves, Saint-Georges set his foot back on the ground and stretched out his arms. He did not turn around, however. Nor did he move away from the wyvern and the pistols tucked into its saddle holsters. Pistols that Laincourt, behind his back, could not see.
"We can still reach an understanding, Laincourt."
"I doubt that."
"I am rich. Very rich. ..."
"Your gold is the reward for your treachery. How many men have died because of you? The latest of your victims were no doubt the couriers from Brussels, whose itineraries you gave to the Black Claw. But before them?"
"Gold is gold. It shines everywhere with the same brightness."
"Yours will be worthless where you're going."
Saint-Georges suddenly spun about, brandishing a pistol.
A shot rang out.
And Laincourt watched the traitor fall, his eye burst and the back of his skull torn out by the ball.
Then he gazed at the saddled wyvern.
The storm was now at its height. Whirlwinds of energy had formed at ground level and lightning bolts fell from the sky every second, digging craters wherever they landed. The castle looked as if it were being battered by a cannonade that was determined to destroy it. "OVER HERE!" La Fargue yelled suddenly.
He was crouching near Agnes whom he had just found and was raising her head. The young woman was unconscious. Her hair was sticky with blood at her temple. But she was still breathing.
"Is SHE . . . ?" asked Ballardieu, who had come running, fearing the worst.
"No. She lives."
A rider appeared from a breach in a rampart. It was Almades, who towed the Blades' mounts behind him. They were good warhorses, fortunately, and thus did not panic in the din of battle.
"Agnes is in no fit state to ride!" declared La Fargue.
"I'll carry her!" replied Ballardieu.
A lightning bolt struck nearby and showered them with smoking earth.
"Look!" cried the Gascon.
The vicomtesse's black coach was coming from the keep, driven by Saint -Lucq.
"Bless you, Saint-Lucq," murmured Ballardieu.
The half-blood pulled up the coach in front of them. He had great difficulty controlling the team of horses. They whinnied and reared at each explosion, making the vehicle lurch backward and forward. Marciac seized the animals by their bits to settle them.
La Fargue managed to open the door and saw a form inside.
"There's someone in here!"
It was Gagniere. Fainted away, after receiving a sword wound in the right shoulder.
"A new friend!" joked Saint-Lucq. "Come on! Hurry!"
Ballardieu climbed aboard holding Agnes in his arms. La Fargue closed the door for them, then mounted the horse whose reins the Gascon, already in his saddle, held out for him.
"Come on! All hell is going to break loose!"