The Dragon's Mark

“Surprise!” they shouted when Henshaw led Roux into the room.

The older man started, then scowled first at the two of them and then back over his shoulder at Henshaw.

“Traitor!” he said, “I suppose you’re in on this, too, then? What are they doing here?”

Henshaw gave one of his rare smiles. “Celebrating your birthday, of course, sir.”

Garin smiled easily, ignoring Roux’s brusque manner. “Did you think we’d forget?”

“It’s not a question of forgetting. You’ve never bothered with my birthday before. What’s so different this year?”

But he accepted the surprise good-naturedly and even began to enjoy himself as the evening wore on. They ate together in the dining room down the hall—braised duck in a pear chutney, which Annja thought was exquisite—then returned to the study for drinks and conversation.

Garin and Roux had lived so long and seen so much that Annja could listen to them for hours. Roux was entertaining them all with a tale of the time he’d slipped inside a royal palace for a rendezvous with a visiting princess when what sounded like gunfire split the night air outside.

“Did you hear that?” Annja asked.

The other three had for they were already in motion. A lifetime spent in dangerous situations had fine-tuned their senses, including Henshaw’s, and they all recognized the sound of guns when they heard them. Annja did, too; she was just surprised to be hearing them at Roux’s secluded estate.

Henshaw went straight to the computer sitting on a nearby desk. As he settled into the seat in front of it an alarm began to sound throughout the house. He silenced it with the touch of a button and then pressed another. A section of the wall to the left of where he sat split apart as a result, revealing sixteen security monitors in four rows of four. Each of them showed a different part of the manor grounds and on several of them Annja saw gray shapes racing across the lawn, firing at the hired security force as they came.

The hiss of hydraulics captured Annja’s attention and she turned away from the monitors to see both Roux and Garin waiting impatiently for the vault at the back of the room to finish opening. Annja hadn’t been inside that room since her first visit to the estate but remembered the treasure trove of multiple currencies and weapons it contained.

Roux could have armed and financed a small private army with what was in room.

It was the weapons stored in the vault that her two companions were going for. Garin armed himself with a pair of heavy pistols while Roux took a rifle for himself and then carried another over to Henshaw.

Garin held up a pistol for Annja. “Here, take this.”

She shook her head. “Thanks but I’m already carrying all the weaponry I need.”

“Suit yourself,” Garin replied, then joined the others at the security station where Roux was trying without much success to reach the head of his security detail on the radio.

When he was unable to get a response, Henshaw gestured to the escape tunnel at the back of the vault. “If we leave now, sir, there will still be time to get you off the estate.” Annja knew that it led up to the third floor and from there out onto the slope of the hill against which Roux’s mansion had been built. A Jeep waited on the road above, ready to take the master of the house to safety at a moment’s notice. Once before, when the estate had come under attack, all four of them had used the tunnel to get to safety. It sounded like a good plan to her now.

Roux was silent for a moment, considering, and then looked over at Garin for his opinion.

The other man hefted the weapon he carried and grinned at Roux. “It’s your call, but if I were in your shoes, I’d be a little pissed. After all, it is your birthday.”

There was no missing the challenge in Garin’s answer and Annja bristled to hear it. He was practically daring Roux to make a stand! And of course, given the history between the two men, there was almost no way Roux was going to ignore that and do the right thing, which was to get the hell out of there while they still had a chance.

She was opening her mouth to advise against taking on the intruders themselves when Roux did precisely what she expected him to.

“Garin’s right. This is my home and I’ll be damned if I’m going to run like a rabbit at the first sign of trouble.”

And that was that. Annja knew any further discussion was futile. Roux had made up his mind and, being the good manservant that he was, Henshaw would carry out his instructions to the last. With it being three against one, there wasn’t even any sense in arguing.

Annja shot a murderous look in Garin’s direction, but he was studying the images on the monitor and didn’t see it. Or if he did, he chose to ignore it, which would certainly be in keeping with his usual behavior.

If something happens to Roux…

She would just have to ensure that it did not.

They quickly devised a plan that, when it came down to it, was pretty basic. The four of them would take up position inside the foyer and defend the house against anyone who tried to enter.

Annja just hoped it would work.

They left the study and quickly made their way through the house toward the front entrance. Roux led the way, followed by Henshaw and Garin, with Annja bringing up the rear. They were just passing a wide staircase that led to the second floor when Annja skidded to a halt.

The others ran on, but her attention was caught by the landing on the second floor. Her intuition was calling to her, telling her the problem was above her, on the second floor, rather than out front where the others were headed. Ever since taking possession of the sword she’d been subject to heightened senses and her intuition was just one of them. Right now it was telling her that there was a problem on the second floor, one that would come back to bite them in the ass if they didn’t deal with it right away, and she had learned to trust such instincts.

Were they too late? she wondered. Were the intruders already inside the manor house?

Leaving a potential enemy at their backs could prove disastrous, so when she shouted at the others to come back and received no response, she made the decision to check things out on her own.

Turning away from the others, Annja charged up the stairs.

3

There were six of them.

They were dressed in dark, loose-fitting outfits with hoods pulled up right around their heads and ninja masks covering the lower parts of their faces, making it impossible for her to identify them.

Five of them stood in a rough semicircle facing the door, swords in hand. The sixth stood behind the first group, watching, and Annja didn’t need to be told that this was their leader. If she was going to get some answers, Annja suspected she was going to have get past the first ranks and confront him herself.

So be it.

They didn’t give her time to think, never mind formulate a plan. No sooner had she taken it all in, then they were upon her, the first three rushing forward while the other two closed up ranks in front of their commander.

It was almost as if they had been waiting for her.

The lead swordsman was quicker than the other two, eager for the chance to confront her. As he came forward she sized him up, her mind processing a hundred tiny details in the space of an eye blink, from the position of the sword in his hands to the angle of his hips to the length of his stride.

She moved to meet him.

He struck as soon as he was in range, intending to overpower her with his strength and speed. The tip of his sword came slashing in at her side, then rose at the last second in an attempt to reach her neck.

Annja brought her own sword up in her standard two-handed grip, parried his blow and, using his momentum against him, jammed an elbow into his face as his speed prevented him from stopping in time.

There was an audible crack, blood spurted from the intruder’s nose and he dropped to the floor.

Annja kept going, moving in on the other two.

They were a bit more cautious than their comrade, splitting up and moving to either side as she continued forward. Annja knew they intended to force her to confront one of them and allow the other to strike at her exposed back, so she didn’t hesitate, choosing instead to rush the one closest to her.

Sword met sword, the blows ringing in the air, as they flew through a flurry of exchanges. From the corner of her eye Annja could see the other intruder getting ready to make a strike, so when her current foe used a horizontal strike to parry her blow, she went with the motion, pivoting on one foot and driving the other directly into her attacker’s gut, knocking him to the floor.

Even as he was falling backward, Annja was continuing the turn and bringing her sword around in a sweeping arc, taking the third attacker’s blow along its length and letting it slide harmlessly to the side. She let her momentum carry her into a full three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, swiveling sharply around to smack the intruder on the side of the skull with the flat of her blade.