the keep and broken it into two distinct halves.
He caught a glimpse of a waving cloak on the floor above.
“Ceri!” he boomed. “Melisandra! Danae! Stop what you are doing this instant!”
More distant laughter.
There was a stairwell to his left and he took it, clamoring up stairs that were slippery and shifting from side to side even as he mounted them. He was back to clinging to the green, mossy walls so he wouldn’t fall, straining to reach the floor above.
And then he heard it.
Another sword fight.
Panicked, he made his way up the last few steps, propelling himself onto the landing. Oddly enough, the building wasn’t torn apart from this perspective. He could see a floor going all the way across to the other side where there was a doorway and a window. The sounds of the sword fight were louder now and as his desperate gaze searched for the source, a big body came stumbling through the doorway on the opposite side.
The man spilled onto the ground.
Little bodies followed, jumping on him, spearing him with their steely swords. As Maxton drew closer, he could see that the warrior on the ground was none other than Achilles de Dere, one of his closest and dearest friends. Achilles was an accomplished knight, powerful and talented, but he was apparently no match for three little girls who were outfighting him. He was on his back, trying to flip over so he could at least get to his feet, but the girls were pounding on him so much that all he could do was hold his sword up to keep their blades deflected off his face.
Achilles was in a bad way.
“He’s just a… child!” Achilles grunted when Danae landed a heavy blow. “Why should you want to hurt him?”
It was Melisandra who finally kicked his hand, forcing him to release his grip. As the sword fell away, she leapt onto his chest and put her blade against his throat.
“Tell me where he is,” she demanded.”
Achilles had his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Mercy, my lady,” he begged softly in a tone Maxton had never heard from him before. “Please show mercy. I shall submit to whatever you wish, but…”
Melisandra cut him off by leaning forward, her face in his, as she pressed her blade into his neck. “Begging is for the weak,” she snarled. “Tell me where the child is and tell me now. I will not ask again.”
Maxton had been standing there, horrified by what he was seeing, but his daughter’s seething demand forced him into action.
“Melly,” he said, dropping to his knees at Achilles’ head. “Melisandra, please. This is your Uncle Achilles. Why are you doing this? Who are you looking for?”
She didn’t look at him. She didn’t respond. She was focused on Achilles, who still had his hands up. As Maxton waved a hand in front of her face with no reaction on her part, Boone’s words were ringing in Maxton’s head.
Do you really want your girls involved in death and destruction as you have been?
Of course he didn’t. Not like this; never like this. But he was trapped in some kind of damnable nightmare where everything was topsy-turvy. His children weren’t listening to him and his friends were dying at their hand.
He couldn’t stand it.
Reaching out, he tried to grab the sword Melisandra had against Achilles’ neck, but he couldn’t seem to get a grip on it. His fingers would connect, but he couldn’t get a grip. He’d touch it and his fingers would slide away, as if the blade was coated with oil. He tried with both hands and he still couldn’t get a grip. Then he tried hitting it, but his hand bounced off. He rubbed at his hand, thinking to kick it out of his daughter’s hand, but she didn’t give him a chance.
She sliced through Achilles’ neck and the man disappeared through the floor.
The girls were on their feet, running for the stairwell again.
Grieved, Maxton followed. He stayed close to them this time, forced to face the fact that Boone was right – they couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t even stop them. They were moving much faster than he was up those slippery, ill-formed stairs, reaching the next level before he did.
But they met with something on that level that sent them tumbling.
A big sword was flashing.
Maxton stepped onto the next level only to see a blade flying at his head. He ducked out of the way, realizing he was watching Achilles’ wife, Susanna, fend