The Spirit Siphon (Magebreakers Book 4)

by Ben S. Dobson

  Indree shot him a glare. “The guilt-based approach, is it? Fine, let’s pretend I’m convinced. What are you going to do with Urnt once you’re through the portal? He’s a mage, and you’ll be barely better than comatose by then. Even if he doesn’t just burn you alive with spellfire, he can portal himself back.”

  “Not with those on,” said Tane, and pointed at Berken’s cuffs, hanging from Indree’s belt. “He’s never been taught to use his magic properly. If we charge him, he won’t get a spell off. We tackle him through and get the cuffs on before he can react. They won’t stop the siphon spell from this side of the Astra, any more than a ward would. But they’ll stop him casting anything else that would get him away from us.” That felt right; maybe it would mean something to Indree. “Berken got us here, and she’s going to get her arrest.”

  “He does not come back here,” Kadka said, panting for breath between the words. “We will make sure.” She clasped Tane’s shoulder like it was a sign of confidence, but he could feel her weight behind it. She was using him to keep herself upright. Dark circles had begun to spread under her eyes, and her shirt was damp with sweat. He had never seen her look so tired.

  But somehow, despite all that, hearing her say it made him believe it could work. When it mattered, Kadka always came through.

  “You’re going to have to trust us, Ree,” he said. “I know it’s not a great idea. I certainly don’t want to do it. But it’s the best chance we have, and we can’t afford to wait for something better. If it’s any comfort, we won’t even get the chance to try if Tinga hasn’t taken the wards down by then.”

  Indree looked from him to Kadka, and sighed. “Well… I liked the part about Berken getting the arrest, at least.” She rubbed at her forehead. “Astra, I can’t believe I’m entertaining this. The insanity must be catching.” Then, in a sudden rush, she closed the distance between them, grabbed Tane by the collar, and pressed her lips hard against his.

  In his weakened state, the force of it almost knocked him off his feet. He put his arms around her and held on for dear life.

  When she finally pulled back, she said, “Promise me I’m going to see you again. You, not some hollowed out husk wearing your face.”

  “I promise,” Tane said, though he wasn’t sure he could keep it. I’d hate for the last thing I say to you to be a lie. Let’s try something that I know isn’t one. “Ree, I… I want you to know that I lo—”

  She cut him off. “Don’t. Not like this. If you want to tell me something, come back. You can tell me then.” And then Indree took a deep breath, pulled Berken’s cuffs from her belt, and handed them to him. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s go see how this idiot plan turns out.”

  _____

  Tinga careened around the corner to find five men in red-and-gold palace guard uniforms staring straight at her, not ten yards away. They didn’t look good—sweaty and sunken-eyed, breathing heavily. They’d been exposed to Urnt’s spell longer than she had. That gave her a bit of an advantage, even if she wasn’t at her best either.

  “Audlander! Stop!” the man in the lead barked.

  The hall forked left and right from the direction she’d come; the guards were down the left-hand hallway, leading to Chancellor Urnt’s office. Tinga turned on her heel and ran down the opposite fork, putting distance between herself and the guards.

  And the ward room. She was going in the wrong direction, and she wasn’t sure yet how she was going to get around the guards to get to where she needed to be. Or how she’d get in when she got there, because it was almost certainly going to be locked. But for now, at least she was leading them away from the others.

  She ducked around a corner, into a hall lined with doors. Several of them sat open; they looked like servants’ quarters at a glance. Plain beds and furnishings, modest ornamentation if any. She was breathing hard now, struggling to keep herself moving as that cold emptiness spread down her legs, but she forced herself past the first room and ducked into the second, sliding in behind the door.

  Holding herself still and quiet was nearly as hard as the running had been. She wanted to collapse in a heap, to gulp in air, but she couldn’t. Instead, she focused on silence. Goblins had a reputation for being sneaky thieves, and while that was a stereotype, their innate stealth was real. When she took care and concentrated, she could move without making a single sound, not the slightest rustle or footfall. It was uncanny enough that some believed it to be Astral in nature, but wards didn’t block it, any more than they blocked a sprite’s flight or an ogren’s strength.

  “Spread out. Check every room.” One of the guards. His voice was flat, tired. The words were in Belgrian, and she only understood because she could speak the language—it went untranslated by her earpiece without a speaker to focus on. “I feel this sorcery as much as any of you, but we cannot surrender to it. Remember, if what Chancellor Urnt has uncovered of the Audish plot is true, they mean to do more than just assassinate the Kaiser. This will spread to the rest of the city unless it is stopped, which means our families. Every one of these foreign agents must be found before that happens.”

  Shuffling footsteps sounded from outside as the guards moved to follow the order they’d been given. A moment later, one of them entered the room; she could hear him just on the other side of the door that hid her from view. He moved in a little further, and she saw him from behind—a big, brown-haired man who would have little trouble restraining her if he had a chance to grab her. There was nothing to stop him seeing her now except that he was facing the wrong way. Silence wouldn’t do much good if he turned and looked right at her.

  But he didn’t turn. Instead, he staggered across the room to a plain wooden wardrobe, pulling it open to search. When he saw that it was empty, he sagged against it, lifted a hand to his head as if he was feeling faint.

  And then she saw it. A keyring hanging from his belt, bearing a half-dozen keys. It was hinged, with a clasp to remove it from the belt.

  That was her way in to the ward room. If anyone had the key she needed, it would be the palace guards. He was still resting against the wardrobe; if she was quick, she could unclasp the keyring before he grabbed her

  She started to step out from behind the door, hesitated, and ducked back into hiding. If he knew she’d taken the keys, it might give away where she was going. Astra, I should have practiced more on Tane. She never had managed to pick his pocket without him feeling it.

  Distraction is the trick. That’s what he said. She didn’t have time to come up with much of one. She had a few coins in her pocket; she took one out, bent low, and tossed it. It went where she’d aimed it, clanking against the floor beneath the bed.

  The guardsman swivelled his head to look; for the first time, she could see his face, at least in profile. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and his eyes sat in dark hollows. He pushed himself away from the wardrobe and began to lower himself stiffly and painfully to his knees to peer under the bed.

  As he did, Tinga crept up behind him. With one hand, she reached out, flicked open the clasp on the keyring. He stretched out to reach under the bed, his clothes shifting, and she used the opportunity to slip the ring loose, letting his own motion mask the slight tug.

  Then, still holding her breath, she turned and slipped quietly out the door.

  The other guards were still searching their rooms, save for one who was moving down the hall to the next, his back to her. She slunk back the way she’d come, turned the corner, and moved out of sight completely.

  At last, Tinga let out the breath she’d been holding. Her limbs felt like rubber, threatened to give way beneath her. But even so, she felt a grin stretch across her face. She’d gotten away clean. Even Tane couldn’t have done it better. Cestra isn’t going to believe it.

  There was no time to gloat, though. She’d have that chance later, when she pulled off the same trick on Tane. With the guards behind her and not likely to catch up, she picked up the pace as best as her fading energy allowe
d.

  The door to the ward room stood out from the others by virtue of being made entirely of brass. That was the practice in Thaless as well, or so she’d been told at the University—she’d never known anyone with enough money to have a ward room. But in theory, it offered additional security to insulate the room with brass against outside magical interference, and use brass-coated copper to actually conduct the magic to the rest of the building.

  Tinga didn’t have any magic, so that was a moot point. All she needed to do was open the door. She lifted the keyring; five of the six keys were cast in plain iron, but one was brass. That’s a bit of a giveaway.

  She slipped the brass key into the lock, and turned it. With a telltale click, the lock released. She turned the handle, and the door swung open.

  That’s the easy part down. Let’s hope they overlooked the next bit. She poked a toe over the threshold.

  It passed through without resistance.

  Ha! No extra wards. She’d hoped as much, and it made sense—the guards who had to actually come in and out on a day to day basis had no magic of their own, probably barely understood how it worked. And in a country where magic was highly restricted, it had probably never occurred to them to ward individual doors.

  Tinga stepped inside and closed the door behind her, let herself fall back against it for a moment. Astra, I’m tired. Tane had been right about the siphon spell being unblockable. Even enclosed in brass, she could feel it. She wiped her forehead—it was slick with sweat. Which was funny, because she’d never felt so cold in her life. She remembered the sunken eyes of the guard she’d stolen the keys from; hers were probably just as bad. It’s a good thing Cestra can’t see me right now. She’d say she didn’t care, but still. At least she didn’t have to run anymore. With any luck, no one would notice the keys were missing, which meant they’d have no reason to look for her in here.

  She just had to actually disable the wards.

  The walls of the room were lined with brass, and she could see places where it covered copper pipes running into the walls, channeling the warding spells to the outside. The pipes converged on a pedestal in the center of the room. She took a long breath, and then pushed herself back into motion.

  The pedestal was nearly as tall as her; she had to stand on her tiptoes to get a good view of the top. A glass panel revealed three scrolls set into copper brackets. Those would be the actual warding spells. Fairly complex to need so much spellwork—Althir had mentioned that Kaiser Gerrolt had gone the extra mile to exclude artifacts and magical comforts from the ward while still nullifying natural magecraft.

  The scrolls were marked with glyphs in the lingua, which she could have deciphered, given what she’d learned at the University. But they were also labelled in Belgrian, presumably for the convenience of the guards. Which made things faster. The one on the right was marked as the scroll governing the anti-magic wards. Thank you, Grandma Kirki.

  The case was closed with a heavy brass lock. The hole was too small for any of the keys on her keyring. Spellfire, she cursed to herself. Either the man she’d taken them from didn’t have the rank to open this lock, or he kept that key someplace else.

  What, then? If I remove the power source… She glanced down at the pedestal; there was a panel there that probably held the gems. It was locked too, and the panel was solid brass. She wasn’t getting it open any time soon.

  Only one way, then. I’ll have to apologize to Kadka later—she could have done this after all. Or maybe I’ll just keep that to myself. Just below the lip of the glass panel, a series of glyphs circled the inside of the scroll case. They weren’t so complex that she couldn’t figure them out at a glance. An alarm spell.

  If she did this, someone somewhere would be notified.

  But what else was she going to do? There wasn’t a lot of time; the cold, hollow feeling spreading into her fingers and toes told her that clearly enough. Tane and the others had to be feeling it too, and worse—they were closer to Urnt than she was. They were counting on her. And she didn’t fancy this being the way she went out, riven senseless in a country she didn’t much care for, with a sea between her and her family. And my Cestra. I’m definitely getting out of here.

  Which meant she couldn’t rest just yet. Wearily, Tinga grasped the top of the pedestal and climbed up onto it. It felt like scaling a mountain, but she made it up, and rose shakily to her feet atop the glass panel.

  And then she lifted one heel, and with all the strength she had left, she slammed it down into the glass.

  It didn’t break.

  “Come on!” she growled. Not much point in keeping quiet, given what she was doing.

  She lifted her foot again. Where it had been, a single, fine crack marred the glass. Her head was spinning, but she kept her balance somehow, gathered herself for one more try. I don’t think I have much left. If this one doesn’t do it…

  She kicked down one more time.

  The glass shattered.

  “Yes!” She reached down between her legs and yanked the right-hand scroll free of its brackets.

  No alarm sounded. If the glyphs weren’t just an empty threat, the alarm wasn’t audible, at least not here. Diverted to a guard post somewhere, perhaps, or directly to the guards themselves as a sending.

  Either way, she had to get out of there.

  She didn’t have it left in her to jump off without crumpling, so she clambered awkwardly down from the pedestal and lurched for the door. As soon as she was outside, free of the brass shielding, she reached up to squeeze Tane’s sending locket where it hung around her neck.

  The pressure in her ears came almost instantly. “Tinga? Is it done?” Indree’s voice, tight and urgent.

  “It’s done. Finish this.” Tinga leaned her back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Her legs were cold and numb and wouldn’t listen when she told them to move. Someone would be coming to see about that alarm eventually, but she was too spent to go any further. “And be quick about it.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  _____

  KADKA HAD INTENDED never to return to Belgrier. She’d never had any desire to. The time she’d spent there in her past had been perhaps the worst of her life. She’d still been mourning her mother, searching for some connection to a father she’d never known in a land of people who feared and hated her. The magic she’d dreamed of seeing when she left Sverna had been locked away out of sight, beyond her reach. She didn’t have a single good memory of the place.

  And now here she was, and it was actually sucking the soul right out of her. If there was such a thing as fate, or the will of the Astra, or whatever else, it had a mean sense of humor.

  She staggered around the last corner, leaning against Indree to keep herself upright. Carver was beside her, still hobbling along on his own; that rankled a bit. She didn’t like being a burden. But she couldn’t worry about pride, not now. The spell was worse for her than for him for whatever reason, and if she was going to be any use stopping Urnt, she needed to conserve what strength she had left.

  Which wasn’t much.

  Near the end of the hall on the right was the door she’d seen the council chamber through before. It was surrounded in guards, perhaps a dozen men blocking the way.

  They looked as bad as Kadka felt—they’d been closer to Urnt for longer. What had appeared at first glance to be a twelve-strong fighting force was really more like six still fully on their feet, brandishing swords they could barely hold straight. The other half-dozen leaned against the wall, or on the hilts of weapons held like canes. They turned tired, sunken eyes down the hall, and only a few looked capable of focusing on whatever threat that they believed Kadka and the others represented.

  “Stay back, Audish scum,” one of them called weakly, the tip of his sword drooping as he said it.

  Kadka put her hand on her knife, though she wasn’t sure she could do much with it just then.

  She didn’t have to. Indree cocked her head briefly, and then, “T
inga did it.” She lifted her hand, muttered a few words of magic.

  A wave of silver force detonated in the middle of the pack of guards, hurling them to either side. Bodies slammed hard against the wall and slid to the floor.

  “Come on,” said Indree. “They’re not going to be a problem.”

  Kadka grinned, even spent as she was. She respected an efficient solution, and a magical one was even better.

  They started down the hall again, past the crumpled guards. Most didn’t try to get up, either unconscious or just exhausted. The few that made the effort hadn’t even risen to their knees before Kadka and the others passed them by.

  “Is this one,” Kadka said, and nodded at the next door down on the right.

  Indree came to a stop. “Can you make it from here? I’m going to need to concentrate on the portal.”

  Kadka swallowed, released Indree’s shoulder, dipped her head slightly. “Will be fine. If Carver holds his end.” Her knee nearly buckled as she said it; she had to grab the wall to steady herself.

  “We’ll get it done, Ree,” Carver said, ignoring the jab. He held Berken’s cuffs gripped tight in one hand. He was stronger than Kadka just then, so that responsibility was his. “Just get the portal open.”

  Kadka looked at him. “You go high, I go low?”

  He nodded, and rubbed at the brass watch case in his pocket with trembling fingers. He was nervous. It didn’t matter. She’d been in enough tight spots with Carver to know she could trust him. And she did. More than anyone in the world, save perhaps Iskar.

  She just hoped he could trust her to stay standing long enough to finish this.

  “Let’s go, then,” said Indree. With a flick of her fingers and a muttered spell, she tore the door off its hinges and stepped through.

  Kadka followed her in, drawing her knife with a cold, numb hand. Just in case.

  Inside, men in the clothes of Belgrian nobles sprawled over a long rectangular table. Some had fallen to the floor, knocking chairs over as they went. A few were moving, weak fingers grasping blindly for some kind of escape. Most were still. Whether they were already riven or just unconscious from the trauma, she couldn’t tell.