He stomped across the room, drawing his sword in the process, his glare seething. Leveling his blade at Quinn’s heart, he held it inches away.
“Remove their gags.”
The two soldiers responded instantly and began to untie the cloth from the two prisoners. With her mouth free, Quinn gasped and spit and worked her jaw. Her throat was dry from having it forced open for hours with little water to quench it.
“What do you know about this?” Iko demanded.
Quinn looked at Varius and shook her head. “I am sorry, Iko. I had no idea.”
“Lies!”
He extended the sword until the tip pressed against her sternum. She refused to flinch or acknowledge the pain although she felt blood track down her stomach.
His face twisted in a snarl. “I am through with your lies!”
Quinn shook her head. “This is not a lie, Iko,” she said in earnest. “Not this time. I did not know, and if I had, I would have stopped it.”
Iko’s entire body shook, his jaw clenching. With a flick, he ran the sword point across Quinn’s tunic, slicing the fabric and her skin as he focused on a new target.
With his blade leveled at Brandt’s throat, Iko asked again. “What do you know?”
Brandt’s eyes flicked toward Quinn and back to Iko. “I…I don’t know anything. Not about this.”
Iko closed his eyes, clearly frustrated. A long moment passed before he opened them, spun, and slid his sword into the scabbard.
“Fetch the guards outside the door.” Iko’s voice sounded cold – emotionless. “We will lock down the citadel and find the assassin. When we do, I’ll make him wish he had never been born.”
As commanded, the man hurried to the door, opened it and lurched back as a sword emerged from his back. As the blade was withdrawn, the man crumpled to the floor to reveal Delvin standing in the doorway. Delvin’s thrown knife buried deep into the throat of the other soldier, who fell to his knees and clawed at it as blood gurgled from his mouth.
“Assassin!” Iko shrieked his eyes flaming with hatred.
Iko drew his sword and launched himself toward the door. Desperate but still bound, Quinn swung her leg out, kicking Iko’s shin hard and hooking his ankle as he passed by. With a grunt, he crashed to the floor and slid across the tiles. Brandt scrambled toward Iko and kicked his hand, knocking the sword free. As Iko’s blade spun toward the open door, Delvin leaped over it and then lunged out with a kick. The toe of his boot connected with Iko’s face, the force snapping his head backward and likely shattering an eye socket. Delvin raised his sword, ready to deliver the killing blow.
“No!” Quinn shouted. “Delvin! Don’t kill him!”
Delvin held his blade ready as he glared down at Iko, who stared up at the sword while blood ran down his face, his brow and cheek torn open.
“What good can come of allowing him to live?” Delvin asked. “This is the Archon’s son.”
Quinn walked toward her mentor, pleading. “I know him well enough to know there is good in him.” She glanced toward the dead leaders, slumped over in their thrones. “Thus far, he has been a pawn to his mother and the Empire. Varius and the Council will pull his strings no longer.” She turned back toward Delvin, meeting his gaze for a moment. “You have seen to that.”
Delvin frowned, his eyes shifting from Iko to Quinn and back. “What do you suggest we do with him?”
She moved closer and gazed down at Iko, who glared at Delvin with unmasked hatred in his eyes, one of which was blood red. “We tie him up and gag him, as he has done to us.” You deserve that much, Iko, Quinn thought. We’ll see how you like it. “And leave him here until he is found.”
After a moment of consideration, Delvin grimaced at Iko and shook his head. “Sorry about this.”
With a hard kick, Delvin’s boot slammed into Iko’s face. Iko rolled onto his side and held his head as he groaned in pain.
“Turn around,” Delvin said as he gestured toward Quinn.
As requested, Quinn turned her back to him, felt a blade slip between her wrists, and the rope fell away. Quinn rubbed at her raw wrists and rotated her arms to loosen her sore shoulders. She turned to see Delvin with his sword ready and a dagger in his other hand. I wonder where he keeps those knives. The tear across Iko’s forehead was twice as bad as before, the lump beneath it an angry red. His eye was bloody, purple and swollen.
“Use the rope to bind him. There should be enough remaining from what I cut away,” Delvin said.
Quinn knelt and tied the rope around Iko’s wrist before tying it to the other. When she finished, Delvin moved to Brandt and cut his wrists free.
As Quinn had done, Brandt rubbed his wrists and nodded to Delvin. “It feels great to be freed. Thanks.”
“Why, Delvin?” Quinn asked.
Delvin squatted and pulled his dagger from the dead guard’s throat before wiping it and the sword on the man’s clothing. “You know why.”
“Did you have to kill them all?”
He inspected the blades in his hands as he stood. “Don’t be so naïve, Quinn. Did you really believe there was any other outcome? These people wanted anyone like your boyfriend dead.” Delvin pointed his dagger toward Brandt. “Every single one. They would commit genocide for no reason other than their fear of magic and the power it holds. In the end, it was us or them. I saw an opening, so I took a shortcut. We are now free of their thirst for conquest and their desire to control our lives. In the end, the world will be better for it.”
Delvin’s statement hit upon the very conundrum Quinn had been facing for months. She had desperately sought another outcome, but the solution had eluded her. Despite despising the ideals the Empire stood for, Quinn did not wish Varius and the others dead, so she had made every effort to stop them without reaching this end. Those efforts had only delayed what Delvin declared as inevitable. Perhaps it was, she admitted to herself.
Delvin extended the sword toward Quinn. “If your conscience is satisfied, tie his ankles, gag him, and let’s be off.”
Quinn accepted the sword without another word. Brandt gagged and bound Iko as she looked on with troubled thoughts. Despite how angry she had been with Iko during the journey to Sol Polis, she now found herself feeling sorry for him.
“I need a favor, Brandt,” she said. “Are you able to heal right now?”
He shrugged. “Sure. Give me your hand.”
Quinn shook her head. “Not me.” She pointed toward Iko. “Him.”
Brandt frowned. “Why?”
Quinn growled. “Just do it, Brandt.”
“Will you two hurry?” Delvin peered out into the receiving hall while standing over the dead soldier in the doorway. “There’s no telling when someone will find the mess out here.”
Brandt reached for Iko, who flinched and jerked away. Grimacing, Brandt grabbed Iko’s wrist and closed his eyes. The magic took hold, healing the wounds on Iko’s forehead and eye, leaving only dried blood on his face. Iko’s body shook with a chill and Brandt stood.
“He’ll be crazy hungry, but I consider it poetic justice since he didn’t feed us all day.”
“Enough chat. We leave. Now.” Delvin darted out of the room.
Quinn and Brandt exited to the main hall, where two more corpses waited. Ydith had an ugly gash across her hand, the surrounding skin blackened. Her tongue was black and swollen as was Tarshall’s, who had a similar cut across his thigh. Blackbane, same as the others, Quinn thought. Delvin poisoned his blade before he attacked them. A scratch is all it took for them to die.
The three of them ran for the side door, into a long corridor, and stopped at the door that led outside. Before Delvin could open the door, Quinn gripped his wrist.
“There is a guard just outside.”
Delvin’s brow furrowed and then he smiled. “Step into the doorway when you hear the signal” Without another word, he burst out the door, panting hysterically. “They broke free and they’re after me!”
“What?” Quin
n heard Berd reply, “Who is after you?”
“The spies! They killed everyone! Look out, here they come!”
Quinn glanced at Brandt, who shrugged and jumped into the doorway in a menacing manner. With her sword in the lead, Quinn stood beside him.
The rain had become a downpour. Berd stood two strides outside the door with his back to Delvin. The big man’s eyes grew wide when Quinn appeared. He drew his sword, stiffened, and fell to his knees. Delvin put one foot against Berd’s back and yanked the dagger from the guard’s neck. The man toppled over and twitched briefly before falling still.
“Did you have to kill him, too?” Quinn asked while staring down at the dying guard.
“Oh, please, Quinn. This is us or them. Escape or die.”
Delvin spun and ran through the rain toward the gate with Quinn and Brandt close behind.
Sergeant Marissa and two male guards Quinn didn’t know stood just outside the bars, both facing away from her as they attempted to huddle beneath wet cloaks. Delvin slowed to a creep as Quinn and Brandt did the same. He then gestured toward Marissa and the guard on the left while he snuck up behind the guard on the right.
Quinn gathered her will, knowing she had little choice. Escape or die, she told herself. She imagined thrusting her sword between the bars, the blade skewering Marissa in the back. Repulsed, Quinn lifted the sword high and slammed down hard, the pommel striking the woman’s helmet with a loud clang. Marissa collapsed to the cobblestones.
Brandt had one arm around a guard’s neck, the man struggling until Delvin stabbed him. The guard then slid down the gate bars until he was sitting. Brandt let the man go before he and Delvin turned toward Quinn.
“That was loud,” Brandt noted.
“Exactly.” Delvin growled. “It will be a miracle if nobody heard you.” Anger was thick in Delvin’s voice. “What were you thinking? The woman’s back was facing you. Why not just stab her and be done with it?”
Quinn glared back in defiance. “I’ll not murder an innocent person. Killing her was not my mission.”
Delvin turned to Brandt. “Is she serious?”
“Yeah.” Brandt put his arm around her and grinned as rain ran down his face. “Makes you love her even more, doesn’t it?”
With the shake of his head, Delvin opened the gate. “You two will be the death of me.”
He led them out into the quiet square, past the glowlamp at the corner, and down a dark city street. At the first intersection, they joined a group of sailors returning to the docks, melting in with the cluster at a nonchalant pace.
Quinn knew Delvin. He had a plan and would get them out of Sol Polis. Her time in Kalimar was finished, and it was time to go home.
I’ll see you soon, Everson, she thought. Please stay safe.
31
Positioning
The sun was a glowing ball to the west, partially blocked by tree trunks. With the tight clustering of trees in the wet earth, the forest canopy grew high above. That’s how it was on the east side of the Gramble River as it neared the sea – low swampland unfit for buildings or travel.
Percy advanced carefully, seeking solid ground for each step as he crept toward the sunlight. Beyond the trees, the river flowed south. A single rowboat sat in the middle of the river, creating a wake of ripples as the flowing water slipped past it. Two fishing poles dangled over the water, the lines trailing toward the sea. Percy knelt just inside the first line of trees and surveyed the situation.
Gramble Bridge was north of the boat, far enough to make the boat appear innocuous but close enough for an easy view. Five people occupied the boat, three of whom wore leather armor hidden beneath grey cloaks. He could also see the runes drawn on two of the bridge’s brick arch supports. This is just as Budakis recorded in his notes. The fishing poles are just for show. When the army reaches the bridge, the magic-wielders plan to destroy it.
His task, as outlined in the plans supplied by Sculdin, was simple in concept but nearly impossible to execute. Having trained for years with a seasoned ranger, Percy was an expert in hunting, tracking, and woodcraft, but his skill with the bow easily eclipsed his other talents.
He eased his bow over his head and drew three arrows. The sun dipped lower, half hidden by the mountains far to the west. Percy waited patiently, praying that Mollis had the same sense.
Noise to the north informed him of the Imperial Army’s approach. Through the tree trunks, he spotted the vanguard rounding the bend and heading toward the bridge.
Led by Mollis, who sat proudly on his horse, the army began crossing. The people in the boat took notice and stared toward the bridge, waiting.
Oh, you pig-headed man, Percy thought.
He moved forward, emerging from the woods as the last of the sun faded. In the dusk, the boat and its occupants became silhouettes hundreds of feet away.
Percy stood at the edge of the bank and measured the wind coming from the sea. He lifted his bow and focused on his target. Calm filled him, his target seemingly enlarging as he stared the man down, pulled the bowstring back, and loosed the arrow. Without waiting, he drew another arrow, and loosed again. The first arrow struck, his target jerking in reaction. The others in the boat turned toward the dying man in surprise as the second arrow struck. Shouts came from the boat, men standing, rocking the boat as they drew their own bows. Percy drew and fired three rapid arrows before retreating to the woods. He didn’t care if the last three arrows found their targets. The remaining guards were irrelevant. He had killed the two who lacked armor – the two enemies who could truly cause damage.
Jogging through the woods, Percy soon emerged to join the army as they marched across the bridge. In the middle of the pack, Brillens was on his horse with a messenger riding beside him. Mollis, Brillens, and the messenger, Kerns, had the only horses in the army since they were still waiting for the cavalry to catch up. Where are you, Iko? We need that cavalry.
Iko and Commander Korbath should have arrived by the time Mollis reached Wayport, moving at a far faster pace than the foot soldiers. Where the cavalry might have been, there was only a train of steam carriages towing war machines and wagons filled with weapons, tents, and food.
Percy hopped up onto the bridge wall and ran, passing the soldiers as they crossed the river. He glanced toward the rowboat. A single soldier feverishly rowed south, pushed along by the current while the others in the boat remained unmoving, likely dead.
Over a quarter-mile to the south, Wayport waited. Fresh tree stumps filled the area between the bridge and the city – now an open field split by the gravel road as it turned and ran south toward the city gate. A few hundred feet to the north side of the road was the newly established forest edge. The only break in the trees was the road that led north, toward Fallbrandt.
Incredible, Percy thought. Everything is exactly how it was outlined in the journal Iko stole from General Budakis. Possessing the journal provided the Imperial Army an immense advantage. The attack plan Kardan and Sculdin had hatched was designed specifically to counter the strategy Budakis had outlined.
Percy slowed as he drew even with Mollis. The man looked down from his steed and nodded.
“Good work, soldier. I knew you would ensure our safety.”
Percy wanted to lash out, but he kept his tone even. “It was a close thing. I had to wait until the sun set so the glare wouldn’t affect my shot.”
The man nodded. “The timing was perfect then.”
Sighing inwardly, Percy shook his head. There is no point in pressing. He is too arrogant to understand how close his impatience nearly caused disaster.
“What now, Commander?” Percy asked as he gazed over the field of stumps. In the failing light, many of them glowed as if made of glowstone. Smart. Lighting the field will prevent us from sneaking close to the city.
“Our orders are to prepare and wait until the signal,” Mollis said as if he religiously followed his orders. “While I would love to attack now, we will remain away from the city a
nd wait. I just hope whatever Sculdin is planning happens soon.”
32
Surprises
Tenzi strolled Razor’s deck, staring up at the stars emerging in a sky still pale purple to the west. Shuttered glowlamps hanging from each mast provided just enough light to navigate the ship’s deck, moored alone in a narrow cove. To the east, across an open bay, was the city of Wayport.
Glowlamps at the end of the city piers gave her perspective, as did the dotted line of blue lamps beyond the piers – lights mounted on the masts of the ships moored there. The blockade was a key component to Brock’s plan and was the reason he brought a fleet of fifteen vessels with him to the city. Of course, the three hundred soldiers and ninety-six arcanists the ships delivered to Wayport were part of the plan as well.
A shadow moved near the prow, joined by a familiar voice. “I was wondering if you had forgotten.”
“That’s fair,” Tenzi admitted. “I do get distracted sometimes.”
Parker shifted closer, meeting her as his arms wrapped about her waist. “Since we are stuck here waiting, there is less to distract you.”
“True. Still, the report delivered this morning has me disturbed.”
“Why? The Imperial Army marches toward Wayport. Brock suspected that would happen.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I’ve seen enough to know things don’t go as you suspect. Surprises are the most likely outcome.”
He laughed.
“I hate surprises.”
He laughed harder. “Of that, I am well aware.”
“I also despise doing nothing. Just sitting here, waiting for something to happen.”
“You have made that clear. I might agree, but I am still feeling a thrill each day I wake outside a dungeon cell.”
She reached up and touched his cheek, recalling Parker with a noose about his neck. “I was afraid I might lose you.”
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