“I think it’s angry,” Niath said.
“So am I,” Thea said, sword held ready. Fear mixed with anger in her stomach. None of her training had prepared her for facing a multi-legged opponent. She chose to focus on the anger. It was more useful. “Got any spells that would help?” she asked.
Niath flung a hand out, blinding light arcing from his fingertips into the octopus.
It shivered, making a low, moaning sound that Thea never wanted to hear again in her life, and grew again in size, the spikes deepening in colour from pale yellow to orange.
“That didn’t work,” Thea said.
“No.”
Niath tried again. Another bolt of magic flew from him into the octopus.
The creature made the sound again, turning Thea’s stomach. It sounded like it was enjoying itself entirely too much. Its body swelled, tentacles thickening.
“It feeds off magic,” Niath said. He sounded disgusted.
“Trust the Ageless to have a magic-eating creature guard their vault,” Thea said, irritation spiking. “Stay behind me and try and keep out of my way,” she told him, taking a step forward.
The octopus had grown so that it covered most of the floor between them and the door. It was stretching out towards them again, a little more cautiously than before. There was just one tentacle creeping towards them. Thea swung her sword, slicing into the tentacle. The sword bit and stuck for a moment. Whatever the octopus had done to arm itself had also toughened its hide into armour. Thea wrenched the sword back and the creature howled again, the end of the tentacle broken, at an odd angle with the rest of its limb.
The octopus lifted itself on four of its legs, its eyes staring at Thea with the flat focus of a predator.
“Now it’s really angry,” Niath said, voice higher than it had been.
“It’s only got six legs left,” Thea said, moving to one side. The creature was faster than she was, but that was no reason to give it an easy, stationary target to attack.
“We only have one sword,” Niath pointed out.
“I’m open to suggestions,” Thea said, slashing forward as another tentacle curved towards her.
The tentacle never reached her, and she swung around almost too late, finding another tentacle, spikes raised, aimed at her head.
She swung the sword with as much strength as she could, severing the limb through, despite the armour.
The creature seemed to shrink where it was, the eyes still staring at Thea. Not defeated. Not by a long way. It looked like it was thinking. That sent a chill across her skin. An opponent that could move far faster than she could, and which could think.
Thea shifted her grip on her sword and risked a glance over her shoulder to the shelves, looking for anything else she could use as a weapon.
There were no crossbows or swords or daggers. Instead, there was a collection of what looked like ornate boxes and small, jewel-encrusted statues. They looked heavy. And about the right size to fit in her hand.
“Throw things,” Thea said, reaching back and grabbing the nearest object.
She saw Niath’s brows lift, clearly wondering if she had lost her mind, but the Mage complied, grabbing the nearest thing and throwing it at the octopus even as Thea threw the statue in her hand.
The octopus raised its tentacles to deflect the first thing, but the second thing hit its body squarely, denting the mass. It shrank further into itself. The armour that ran along its tentacles did not cover its body. They had a chance. A small chance, but it was better than nothing.
“Keep throwing things,” Thea said. “Use both hands,” she added, as Niath threw a single object. She kept her sword ready, and grabbed another item from the shelf.
Even as the next round of objects landed on the creature, it surged up, using two tentacles for support, a low, grating sound emerging from its body, the rest of its tentacles, spikes raised, stretching out towards Thea and Niath. As it lifted from the ground, Thea saw that its underbelly was an open mouth, full of serrated teeth.
There was no time to think. No time to be frightened. No time to be sick.
The enormous creature was on her, spreading out until all she could see was the creature, its limbs and spikes and those awful teeth.
She swung the sword, using all her Ageless-born strength, slicing through everything in her reach, feet light on the stone floor as she moved, ducking under one of the reaching limbs.
Bits of creature littered the floor around her, and a golden box the size of her fist narrowly missed her head, the box landing in the creature’s mouth.
The octopus retreated, its broken and severed limbs tangling around its body. Protecting itself.
Thea glanced behind her. There. The golden lion that Niath had seen earlier.
She reached up, grabbing the object, tucking it under her arm, and following the octopus as it retreated.
It saw her coming, and one of the limbs snaked out towards her.
Thea stamped on the severed end of the limb. It shrank back towards the creature.
She was close enough now. She just hoped that she and Niath had done enough damage already for the golden lion to have some effect.
There was no time for any more thought. She threw the golden lion into the creature’s body, hearing the crunch of its impact, seeing the limbs around her quiver and go limp.
Dead. Or so she hoped.
She made sure, stabbing the sword through one of the creature’s eyes, as deep as the blade would go. As she pulled the blade out, a torrent of foul-smelling black blood came with it.
She staggered back from the smell, sword dripping blood onto the floor, panting for breath, trembling with shock and revulsion.
“I think you just saved our lives,” Niath said. He didn’t sound like himself.
Thea looked over and found him pressed against the shelves, another statue held in one hand, ready to throw. Somewhere in the fight he had shed his human aspect, the angles of his face sharper, fangs gleaming at his mouth. Hiandar.
Sensible people were afraid of hiandar. They were among the most powerful of the night kind, and deadly when they chose to be.
Thea grinned at him.
“I think we’re even,” she said, then wrinkled her nose. “Ageless, that thing stinks. I need some fresh air.”
“The door has magic in it,” Niath said, putting the object back on the shelf and making his way to the closed door.
“Will it burn?” Thea asked.
He glanced back over his shoulder. Almost back to his human aspect, mischief across his face.
“It might,” he answered, and turned back to the door.
Which opened before he could do anything, the brighter light from the corridor outside showing Reardon, Ware and Winchell.
The Ageless and the Watch Captain stared at the Mage, their eyes travelling past him into the room to Thea, and across the floor.
Thea looked around and grimaced. It was a mess. The once neatly ordered room was now the site of slaughter, bits of the dead octopus littering the floor along with the shattered chest it had been stored in, inky black blood covering almost all the remaining floor. Scattered here and there around the room were the precious objects that she and Niath had thrown at the creature, including the great, golden lion resting on the creature’s head like a crown.
CHAPTER NINE
“What have you done?” Winchell shrieked, trying to shove past Reardon to get into the room.
The warrior grabbed the older Ageless’ shoulder, shoving him to one side, and glared into the room.
“Just the one guardian?” he asked Winchell.
Guardian. Thea’s mind snagged on that word, and she looked back over the scattered bits and pieces of the creature she had killed. She swallowed, wanting to be sick. She had killed something assigned to guard the Ageless’ possessions.
“In this room, yes,” Winchell said, sounding surly.
“Are you alright?” Ware asked. “Thea? Mage?”
“Fine
,” Thea and Niath said together.
“Where did you get that sword?” Reardon asked. Thea remembered a conversation a few weeks ago, before she and Niath had killed the escalus, where Reardon had wanted to know why she had not used a sword to tackle the creature, and she and Ware had reminded him of the law that forbid the Watch, and humans in the city, from carrying bladed weapons.
He was glaring at her now, the full force of his age and power focused on her.
“I gave it to her,” Niath said, turning and holding a hand out to Thea. She gave him the sword, as reluctant to let it go this time as she had been the first time she had held it. It was the finest weapon she had ever held. Niath murmured a word and it turned back into the small knife, which he tucked back into his robes. “The creature got more powerful when I used magic on it,” he added, turning back to Reardon. “If Officer March had not used the sword, we would both be dead.”
“How did you manage to trigger the alarm?” Winchell asked, voice too high. “What were you doing in here?”
“We were shut in,” Thea said, exhaustion washing over her. She remembered Simon’s nervousness as he had looked towards this room. She turned away from the door, looking around the room, trying to see anything out of place. Apart from the dead creature and scattered objects.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Winchell said.
“What happened?” Ware asked.
“One of the workers was assigned to show us the vaults,” Thea said, the better part of her attention still on looking around the room. “He seemed nervous about this room, so I asked to see inside.”
“He pushed Officer March inside and shut the door behind us,” Niath said, irritation clear. “And then he tripped the defences.”
“Ah, there,” Thea said. She had finally seen something out of place.
In a room that had been full of wooden chests set in a neat line and objects placed carefully on shelves, there was a small leather pouch at one end of the shelves. In plain sight, but with everything else in the room she would have missed if it she hadn’t been looking for it.
She stepped over the bits of octopus and crouched down near the pouch. It looked perfectly harmless, but she was not inclined to trust that.
“There’s no magic on it,” Niath reported.
“Good,” Thea said. Still, she was careful as she reached out to untie the knot holding the pouch closed. She opened it to reveal a double handful of bright, golden coins. The Archon’s coins. Made in the mint not that far from where she was. “I wonder what they are doing here?” she asked, mostly to herself.
“Winchell?” Reardon asked, the sharp tone drawing Thea’s attention.
She rose to her feet and turned back to find the Treasurer thin-lipped, glaring at Reardon. She knew the look on Winchell’s face. Someone who had information and did not want to share it.
“How did the coins come to be here, sir?” she asked.
“We’ve had a few coins go missing here and there over the last few months,” Winchell admitted.
“This was not reported in the verification,” Reardon said, brows lowering.
“No. It is not significant.”
Thea glanced back at the pouch of coins. Gold coins. More wealth than most city folk would see in their lifetime. And Winchell did not think it was significant. She wondered what else he had not mentioned.
“A dozen gold coins. Perhaps more. And you don’t regard it as significant?” Reardon asked, brows lifting.
“We punished the Conscripted workers who we suspected,” Winchell said.
Thea shivered, stomach turning.
“It wasn’t the Conscripted workers who stole these coins,” she said, her voice flat.
“Nonsense. Of course it was.” Winchell wouldn’t look at her, though. He had just needed someone to blame. To consider the matter closed. Dealt with. And, as with the forgeries, had not been prepared to look beyond the Conscripts.
“None of the Conscripted workers can get into the vaults, can they?” Thea said, keeping her tone even with an effort.
Winchell glared at her, his human aspect fading, the planes of his face angular, the frost of his presence creeping out through the air. He was ancient. Not quite as old as the Archon was supposed to be. But close. And the number of his years gave his presence an almost physical weight that pressed against her shoulders. Easy to see why humans had treated the Ageless as almost god-like when they had first encountered them.
Thea knew better, though. Despite the power seeping into the air, the Ageless were not gods. Far from it. They were as prone to petty infighting as any humans.
“Can they?” Reardon asked. Unexpected enough that Thea blinked and looked at the younger Ageless. He carried far more power than Winchell did, but kept it more tightly confined. Perhaps a side-effect of his decades of military service.
He wasn’t looking at her, though, focused on the Treasurer.
Winchell did not answer.
Which was answer enough for Thea. And for Reardon, it seemed.
“Thea, the worker who shut you in here. Would you know them again?” Ware asked, breaking the tense silence.
“Yes, sir. The supervisor called him Simon. She gave him her key to let us into the vaults,” Thea said.
“Simon? No. Impossible. He has been here for years. Decades,” Winchell said, face pinched. “We thought he might replace Dorcas when she retires.”
“Dorcas is the supervisor? When is she due to retire?” Thea asked.
“Next month,” Winchell said, face stiff.
“And was Simon to replace her?” Thea asked. She knew the answer already, but clearly Winchell had not imagined that Simon would be annoyed at being passed over for promotion, his decades of loyal service overlooked.
“No,” Winchell said, glaring at Thea. “Dorcas’ cousin is taking her place.”
“We need to find this Simon,” Reardon said.
“This is not your concern,” Winchell said, turning his glare on the warrior.
“One of the trusted workers in the Archon’s Treasury has stolen coins from her mint,” Reardon said, voice flat. “It will be of serious concern to the Archon when she learns of it.”
“This is not my concern,” Ware said, sounding more diffident than he normally did. Thea sent him a narrow-eyed stare, wondering what he was up to. “However, I am sure the Archon would be better pleased to know the matter had been dealt with before she even learns of it.”
His words had an impact on Winchell, who stiffened. Perhaps realising for the first time that, no matter how long he had been in service as Treasurer, he still answered to the Archon. And Edris was famous for her short temper and violent ways of dealing with those who had displeased her. Like the servant she had dropped to the ground earlier.
As the absolute ruler of her empire, no one would question or challenge whatever Edris decided to do. None of the Ageless would stand against her. Not even to save one of their own.
“Very well. Let us find Simon,” Winchell said, heading for the door. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Bring that,” he ordered, flicking his fingers to indicate the leather pouch before stalking away.
“Do you think he meant you or me?” Niath asked.
“Definitely you. I’m not handling anything stolen from the Archon,” Thea said, taking a step away from the mage, and almost slipping on the blood-slick floor. She seemed to have got away with killing a guardian. She was not going to press her luck further. “I will be glad to get out of this room, though.”
“Quite,” Niath said, gathering up the coins.
Reardon and Winchell were nowhere in sight, but Ware was waiting outside the room, expression serious enough that Thea’s back straightened.
“Have you found any evidence that the forged coins were made in the Treasury?” he asked her.
“No, sir. I think it would be impossible. The process is closely monitored.”
“The forged coins lack the Archon’s signature,” Niath said, “which wo
uld be present in anything produced by the mint here.”
The magic that Thea could sense. She wondered if it had indeed come from the Archon herself, or if that was just another tale of the Ageless. Someone, or several someones, with a great deal of magic had set up the Treasury and its mint. Thea had never met Edris in person, so had no idea how powerful she really was.. The brief glimpse of the Archon earlier was the closest that Thea ever wanted to get to the Archon.
“That means the coins must have been made elsewhere,” Ware said, voice heavy. “I was almost hoping that they had been made here,” he said, turning and walking along the corridor with heavy strides.
Thea felt a chill crawl over her skin as she followed her captain, her thoughts from earlier coming back.
Somewhere in the city, someone had forged the Archon’s coins. The Ageless’ response would be violent, and the whole city was vulnerable to her rage.
~
They came out to the floor of the mint to find all the workers frozen in place, looking up.
Thea followed the line of their gaze and her fingers twitched. She wanted a weapon. More than one if possible. Or, even better, to be very far away from here. Neither weapons nor distance were available, though.
In the open space above them was the brilliant white, wide open span of an Ageless’ wings. And a body suspended in the air, held by his neck.
From this distance, Thea could not make out his face. But she knew who it was. Simon. The worker who had shut Thea and Niath into the vault.
Held suspended by the Treasurer, in his Ageless aspect, which sent more chills through her even at this distance. The ancient power he carried slid through the air, filling the entire Treasury.
He was speaking to Simon, words too low for Thea to catch. Simon made a wailing sound, clutching at the fingers around his neck, legs moving as if he could run away through the air.
The Treasurer’s wings twitched and there was a snap that echoed through the entire building before Winchell opened his hand and Simon’s body fell.
Down and down and down. Past the open mouths and horrified stares of the Conscripted workers on the floor above. Towards the open mouths and horrified stares of the workers around Thea and Niath.
False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2 Page 9