by Mark August
“We should hear from her,” Zonara said.
“As soon as possible,” Lord Herrus said. Even House Tucchi would come off the sidelines when the structure of order threatened to collapse around them.
“Perhaps right now,” Attius said. All the eyes in the Council chamber turned toward him. “I had her brought to testify on her experience.” He nodded at Enna.
Taurus crossed his arms across his chest. The legs of his chair grated against the floor as he slid away from the table. “I’m skeptical about these theatrics.”
Attius smiled. “As you should be. I propose we bring this to a vote.”
“Second.” Three voices responded.
Attius gestured to the captain of the watch. It was the Duchess’ place to command the Council’s supporting staff, but the captain responded.
The chamber door swung open, and a formation of four guards marched in. All wore tunics emblazoned with the city colors and emblems. Between them, they pushed a wheelchair cradling a broken body. The woman tried to straighten her posture in the presence of the City Council, but pain collapsed her resolve.
Her hair was burned to the scalp in places. Blisters covered the side of her face, and a crippled hand twitched in her lap. Bandages covered splints on both legs to protect shattered bones. The honor guard halted in front of the Duchess.
“Please accept the admiration of the entire city for your dedication to duty. You will receive a full pension and the care you need to recover. Will you tell us about the cause of your injuries?”
“Yes, my lady.” The voice was soft and gravelly. With those words, she coughed into a handkerchief as her lungs fought against the effort.
The Council waited in silence.
“I was on watch near the docks. We were on the opposite side of the square when we saw fires flickering in the warehouse. We ran across the market square and went in the water side. The people inside weren’t expecting anyone coming in from that direction.”
Attius hadn’t heard this part before. “You say people. There were more than one?”
Coughs wracked the broken body again. One of the honor guards helped her back into an upright position. She continued when the spasms stopped.
“Yes, my Lord. Two. A man and a woman.”
“How could you tell?”
“Because I fought them both.”
Attius held himself back from leading the witness. A new lever. An edge against this hated wizard.
“Can you describe them?” The Duchess asked.
“The woman was short. Dark hair. Dark skin. Strong and fought with two hammers.”
Taurus snorted his disbelief. “You are saying a woman carried two war hammers?”
“No, my lord.” She paused and tried to catch her breath again. “A pair of worker’s hammers. Like a smith.”
“A craftswoman bested you?” Enna asked. She knew the answer to the question, and Attius knew she was setting up the reveal. The vote he needed would happen soon.
“No, my lord. The wizard. After he burned my partner with a bolt of flame, he came at me. He pulled down the boxes and left me to burn in his fires.”
“I wish you a speedy recovery. When you do, you have a place in my guard.” Attius stood up and pounded his hands together in applause. The rest of the Council came to their feet and followed his lead.
The woman couldn’t hold back the tears from her scarred face. The honor guard would spread the news through the barracks seconds after they returned her to her room. The Council sat down after the guard closed the door behind them.
“My fellow members of the Council, the threat to the city is real.” Attius’ statement was not met with protest. “We need to put our defenses under a single command. Pool our resources to find this wizard.”
“We are already doing this.” Lord Taurus leaned forward and looked down the table at Attius.
“We have, but I think the threat demands more forceful actions. We need to take—”
“Attius, we agree with you. What move do we take next?” Lady Zonara said.
Time to probe the depths of their commitment. “We need to put our guards under city command.”
The temperature of the room changed. Postures were rigid, and eyes darted to each other. No one spoke.
“We would start with the priority of protecting our families. The wizard is looking for our weaknesses. The rest of our resources should hunt down the wizard.”
“Who will lead this effort?” Enna asked. She resigned herself to this course of action, and she was ready to commit to hunting down the wizard. This next point was crucial.
“We’ve only been successful under Attius’s leadership.” Zonara delivered the blow precisely as they’d discussed.
Before the voices got out of control, Attius added, “My heir, Giomar, will lead the effort.”
Voices fought to be heard until they became shouts. Servants scurried away from the political conflict. The Duchess picked up the gavel and banged the table for attention.
“Lord Atros, members of the Council might think you and your house brought this situation upon us,” she said.
“That would be an interesting theory. The facts don’t support your assertion. The wizard came here years ago as an immigrant. I would have to be an excellent strategist to have that kind of foresight.”
“But this could have developed, Attius—” Lord Taurus said.
Attius dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “The situation flew out of control when the Council removed the sister. We lost the leverage because the Council took it away from me.”
The City Council fell silent.
The wooden gavel tapped lightly on the table. Attius wondered if the carpentry shop where the wizard Kincaid worked crafted the gavel.
“Ladies and lords of the Council, we need to vote on this action proposed by Lord Atros.”
The vote for wartime powers was unanimous.
The Duchess turned to him and asked, “Where do we begin?”
“We will start by hunting down the girl. That’s his weakness.”
Seventy-One
Kincaid - Second Night
“Kincaid, do not do this mission alone.”
“Sholeh, you can’t move with your leg.”
“The leg is fine, Kincaid. I am worried about your state of mind.”
“I have to keep the pressure on the houses. We can’t do that from here.”
“You do not have a good disguise, and no one is watching your back.”
“I can—”
“At what price to your soul?”
He wanted to give her a witty reply, but her question was serious. She was the only woman who could make him speechless. Now that Liane was gone.
“I’ll make sure I can live with it.”
“You need to be more than careful, Kincaid.”
“I can make some luck.” A grin fell from his lips as Sholeh turned away.
The crossbow from the burning warehouse rested in the corner of the walls. A heavy and unbalanced weapon. The stock was a rough-cut example of mass-produced weaponry. No skilled carpenter had placed a file near this work. He put his foot in the stirrup and cranked the steel string to the locked position. With a bolt nestled in the groove, he placed the ready weapon by the bedside.
“Let’s make sure you can make your own luck.”
“By all that is holy, Kincaid. What do I do after the first shot?”
“Ask your holy one for help.”
Kincaid leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead. His right hand lingered on her cheek. He didn’t trust himself to look into her eyes, and he didn’t glance back as he headed out the door.
Kincaid pushed his way through the throngs of people finishing their end-of-day errands. The chilly air was damp from the mist coming off the bay. The mass of people covered in heavy cloaks to hold back the weather was ample cover for Kincaid’s mission.
He kept to the small bridges over the canals and stayed away from the enormous squa
res and docks. Patrols would be more likely in these areas. He estimated a small window of opportunity, and he couldn’t waste the potential with a chance encounter with a guard.
This warehouse didn’t have a back door. Kincaid cursed under his breath and wished they had time to examine this shop before making his move. He’d have to stick to the main street for his entry.
House Junius was next on Kincaid’s list, and he argued throughout the morning with Sholeh about picking a higher-profile target. He’d wanted something of more value, and Sholeh convinced him the chances of more guards were significant. They’d heard about a small warehouse, and the choice seemed logical. And now harder.
Kincaid paused at the streetlamp. He reached under his cloak and pulled out a water flask. While pulling a long drink, he observed the street and the pool of light near the front door. The flask slipped back into his belt, and he stepped off with a stumbling pace. No one paid attention to ambling drunks on their way home from the tavern.
He was more than an ambling drunk as he filled his soul with a stream of magic. Voices thundered in his ears as groups with too-loud voices made their way out of taverns nearby. None approached him. Most importantly, he didn’t catch the clink of weapons and armor.
His meandering gait stopped near the door. As he leaned toward the frame for balance, he grabbed the iron lock in his hand. With a pulse of magic, he severed the lock shaft. One last look over his shoulder and he slid inside the door.
Darkness enveloped him. Slats of light seeping through shuttered windows didn’t provide enough light for drunken eyes. But Kincaid’s senses were beyond human ability. He moved unimpeded into the darkened structure.
Caesea was famous for the works of their glassblowers. Over a century, this craft evolved from functional work to masterpieces of elaborate art. Patrons from around the realms bid the prices of these masterpieces, and House Junius owned this trade. The warehouse didn’t need to be big for the supplies or the finished products. But the wealth was no less than the massive warehouse of stored cloths. He could make this attack hurt.
Kincaid willed sheets of fire between his forefinger and thumb. He coaxed enough heat to keep the flames a glowing blue. The storage boxes needed little encouragement to burst into flames. Imagining the dedicated work of skilled artisans to create this art, Kincaid paused before igniting the next fires.
Kincaid didn’t start this war. He turned to his task, and flames jumped toward the ceiling. The cackling blazes now added to the growing light around the room. Satisfied with his work, he made his way back to the door and slipped back to the street.
“You there, stop.” The clink of metal was unmistakable, and the booted steps ran at a measured pace.
He fumbled with the door as they approached. With the door cracked open, smoke billowed a trail toward the night sky.
“We must inform the master. Call the fire watch.”
He turned toward the approaching guards and gestured toward the burning structure. Four guards bore the emblems of the watch and held ready crossbows. The watch rarely carried ranged weapons and typically broke up drunken fights and caught petty thieves. They were prepared for trouble.
“Don’t move.”
The leader gestured for two guards to detach from the squad. They sprinted away from the burning warehouse. Kincaid’s pulse quickened as time sped up beyond his control.
“I’m trying to get help, sir,” Kincaid said. “I was coming to check the warehouse, and—”
“You were coming out of this building and closed the door behind you. Stand fast.” The crossbows were no longer pointed at the ground. The tension was as tight as the steel springs on the deadly weapons.
Another patrol came up at a double-time pace from the opposite direction. They came to a halt on command twenty paces from Kincaid’s confrontation. Surprise was a fickle ally, and the advantage of time belonged to his opponents. Sholeh was right.
“Sergeant of the watch, who did you apprehend?”
Kincaid remembered that voice. How could a member of the Atros family be in the heart of the Junius islands?
“My Lord, I’m not sure. We caught him coming out of the burning warehouse.”
“Did you raise the fire guard?” The sergeant nodded his agreement. “Then secure the street. And you, sir, turn around.”
Kincaid turned and faced a firing squad. A squad of six soldiers in two ranks spanned the entire street. Three soldiers in the tunics of House Atros leaned into firearms pointing at his chest. The second rank from Atros had their weapons at the ready. They were trained in volley fire.
Behind the bristling array of weapons was the noble heir of House Atros. He had a pistol with the hammer cocked for action in his right hand. Kincaid recalled only seeing him once in the prison cells, but one didn’t forget the nobility's arrogance.
“Pull back your hood.”
Kincaid complied as his mind raced to create an escape. Magic surged from a trickle into a torrent. Smoke and flames reached out to his mind as a source of magical influence. Watch members secured the intersection of the street now behind Kincaid.
Lamplight revealed his deep red hair, but the guards stayed disciplined and ready. Kincaid was reluctant to kill them, and the magic howled in protest.
“The wizard uses his magic for arson. Why?”
“Your prison wasn’t a luxurious experience. I thought I would get out at night and see the sights.”
“The next sight is the executioner’s ax, journeyman.”
“Hardly. You only brought six guards.”
“Ready—” On command, thumbs pulled back on hammers. The front rank tensed, and the back row hefted their weapons to their shoulder. One volley.
The snap of a steel spring put a crossbow bolt in flight. High angle, from above. The bolt left a wake in the air as it passed over his shoulder. No.
The projectile tore through the lion's symbol on the noble chest and parted the steel armor like cloth. Blood exploded with a fountain before the body fell to the cobblestones. The shriek of metal giving way to the slam of hardened steel called out to the power in his soul.
The first line didn’t wait for a command. They elevated their weapons and fired in a blast toward the direction of the crossbow shot. Explosions of fire and smoke from the barrels obscured the squad for a moment. The second line hunted for a target to engage.
Smoke from the shop answered his magical summons. The street filled with swirling acrid smoke from weapons and the burning warehouse. Another volley blasted out to hit the fleeing wizard.
As the hammers clicked forward, Kincaid sensed where the three barrels were pointing. The shots would all miss his position. His feet propelled him away from the reloading guards and toward an unsecured street.
He kept up a wall of smoke in front of him and billowed out behind him as he ran. He imagined this cloud moving at a sprint with him, but the string of reloading and firing commands coaxed him to new speed.
Shots rang out in the streets again, but Kincaid didn’t hear the slap of lead around him. They were shooting at the rooftops again. As he pulled the smoke with him, they could only see upwards. He needed to get back to their room.
Magic flooded his legs as he flew over the ground. He left the smoke behind in a dissipating wall. None of the guards would be eager to chase him through the smoke. The shots died out, and shouts grew louder.
Only one person could have taken that shot.
Seventy-Two
Kincaid - Respite
“You killed the heir of House Atros.”
“I saved your life.”
Kincaid and Sholeh faced off in her small room. Sholeh wouldn’t look up to meet Kincaid’s gaze, and he longed to hold her in his arms.
“But you gave up part of yours.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek and blinked fast to hold back the tears threatening to drip down her cheeks. Kincaid took a chance and pulled her into his arms. She collapsed into his embrace and rested her cheek on his
shoulder. In a moment, Kincaid’s shoulder was wet.
“I’m sorry you had to kill him.”
“By all that is holy, my soul feels torn out. I’m empty.”
“You’ve helped me fill my emptiness. It’s the only thing holding back the darkness.”
“The darkness is coming for us.”
“Then we don’t get caught.”
“The great wizard proclaims—”
“That’s not fair.” Kincaid tilted her back and held her so she could see his face. “I didn’t want this. I was in prison for using magic I didn’t know I had. People I love are dying.”
The defiant look in her eyes faded. “I regret taking that shot, Kincaid.”
“We can’t win this war, Sholeh. It’s too much.”
“But Liane and Master Barnet—”
“We won’t bring them back. And if the Houses band together to kill me, we’ll join our loved ones.”
Sholeh used her sleeve to wipe her face. She brushed her wet sleeve against her pant leg to wipe off the ashes from the warehouse fire. Kincaid brought his hand up to her cheek and used the few remaining tears to wipe away the rest of the grime.
“So, we will leave the city?”
Kincaid dropped his hands to his side and walked the length of the room. “I’m afraid we lost. We didn’t start it, but we can’t win it now. And no one will know if we lived or died.”
“We know we lived for each moment.”
Kincaid came back and held Sholeh in his arms. Her warmth buttressed his feelings and added strength to his conviction. They couldn’t stay in the city, poking at the noble houses.
“Agents of each house will watch the docks. Passage to the mainland will be difficult to secure.”
“This is true, but how long do you think the noble houses will let their goods stack up in warehouses? By your actions, the houses know their stockpiles are vulnerable. We must play a game of survival until the city releases its grip.”
“Sholeh, your plan sounds an awful lot like hope.”
“One of us needs to have it.”
“I’m usually the dreamer. This one is a nightmare.”