Plague of Shadows

by Michael Wisehart

  A man near the front cautiously raised his hand, unwilling to speak out with Kerson standing so close.

  Shilvan, one of the clan heads seated on the second level, pointed at the man. “Speak.”

  “Why should we risk our necks for Aramoor’s citizens? We owe them nothing.”

  More than a few grunted, heads bobbing in agreement. The four leaders of the clans said nothing. They turned stiffly in their seats as if waiting for her to answer.

  “I’ll tell you why,” Kira said, scooting to the edge of her high-backed chair. “Because I gave my word.” She looked around the room. All four clans were represented, everyone wearing their clan’s color, whether by sash, headband, belt, or vest. The assembly room felt smaller somehow. She remembered how intimidated she had been the first time she had been allowed admittance. The banners hanging from the walls representing the four Warren clans, the pillars lining the outside with their bracketed torches, the men and women gathered around with a fierceness in their eyes that would have had most soiling themselves. Kira, on the other hand, had determined right from the start that she would sit in the top seat or die trying. Ten years later, here she was.

  “We might be some of the most cutthroat sons of faeries in Aramoor,” she said, “but at least we have our word. You ain’t worth a hock of spit if your word means nothing. Putting that aside,” she said with a wave of her hand, “who have these cloaked men taken?”

  No one answered.

  “Have they stolen the good citizens of Aramoor out of their beds? No! They’ve taken the homeless, the street kids, the castaways that no one cares about or will notice. You ask me why we should care. That’s why!”

  The room was quiet. Faces turned with quizzical looks, many shrugging in confusion.

  She shook her head. She was surrounded by idiots. “You,” she said, pointing at the man who had asked the question. “Tillweed, or Willis, or whatever your flaming name is.”

  The man gulped. “Tillis, Chief.”

  “Were you born here, Tillis?”

  The man glanced around the assembly hall. “In this room?”

  She growled, having half a mind to order Kerson to kill him for being stupid. “No! Were you born in the Warrens?”

  “No, Chief.”

  “Where were you born?”

  “I was born in the Maze.”

  Perfect. “So, it’s safe to assume that one or both of your parents are dead?”

  Tillis nodded slowly, clearly trying to figure out where this was going.

  “Where did you live before coming to the Warrens?”

  “In the tribes,” he said. “Rockslide, if it matters.”

  Kira sneered. She hated Rockslide. Her former tribe had been at war with them for years. She looked out across the rest of the gathering. “How many others started out on the streets before coming here?”

  Almost every hand went up.

  “That,” she said, smacking the arm of her chair, “is why this is important. What if these men had come five years ago, or ten? How many of you would they have taken?”

  Heads slowly rose as understanding sparked in their eyes.

  “These abductors are taking our future. What happens if there’s no one left to fill our ranks, no new generations for us to depend on? These kidnappers are stealing our people!”

  The crowd moved, anxiously shifting from one foot to the next, some reaching for their weapons.

  “We run these streets!” she shouted, hopping to her feet. “Are we going to let these Defiler-loving sons of goats walk into our home and steal from us?”

  “NO!” they shouted back, raising blades and clubs in the air. Even a few of the clan heads were on their feet.

  “Good! Because tomorrow night, we do what we do best. We slit their throats and feed their corpses to the river!”

  Each clan chose ten of their best to represent the Warrens. Kira, not having an official clan of her own since her rise to chief, volunteered Po and Kerson to be her escorts. She would have been hard pressed to leave them behind. Po, because of how he felt about her. And Kerson, because of his oath of fealty.

  It took all the next day to get them organized, armed, and moved down to the lower docks without alerting any of the city patrols. It had also taken some heavy negotiating to rent enough longboats and skiffs to transport everyone up the bay.

  They waited for cover of darkness before pushing off. The five longboats were larger than the one they’d used the night before, which helped ease the nervous tension in her stomach at having to once again leave the security of dry land. Each boat seated at least ten: eight in the middle, including two sets of oarsmen, a lookout at the front, and one at the stern running the tiller to keep them on course. The longer boats also came with the added blessing of not having to mix clan members. Each clan had their own boat.

  Instead of moving directly up the coast, they rowed farther out into the bay before angling north toward the river. As much as Kira hated being this far from shore, she didn’t want the ships in port to think they were a raiding party. A sight like that would have had the watchmen ringing the bells for sure.

  The thickening fog and calm water helped them glide along at a steady pace without the worry of being seen. Apart from the regular lapping of the oars, the bay was eerily silent. Kira kept a close watch from the bow of the lead boat as they approached the cliffs on the other side. She focused on what lay ahead, doing her best to swallow the rising fear at what might be lurking beneath their boat. The stone supports for the bridge loomed out of the fog on their right. They were getting close.

  By the time they reached the other side, her knuckles were white from clinging to the sides. She directed the helmsmen with hand signals, and they steered the boats over against the rock. She hoped they didn’t run into the kidnappers on their way in. She’d much rather surprise them inside than have to engage them in battle over the water.

  They slowed as they reached the outcropping of rock that blocked the hidden tunnel into the mountainside. The passageway behind the rocks was only large enough for a single craft. Kira’s boat was the first in. They drew in the oars to squeeze through, and everyone ducked, as the tunnel entrance wasn’t much more than a foot or two above the bow.

  Her hands trembled slightly as they floated through the blackness ahead.

  “Draw your swords,” she whispered back to the others, unable to see anyone behind her. “Pass it on.” She could hear the ring of steel on down the line. By now, all five boats had to be inside. She could barely make out a faint circle of light behind her from where they had entered.

  Without torches to light the way, the path ahead was lost to darkness. Kira reached up to feel her way along the rock, keeping the boat moving forward. The lap of the water against the boat and tunnel were the only sounds she heard. Soon enough, the echo of the water grew distant as the passage widened to the point where she could no longer touch the rock. She wondered how deep the channel was.

  A faint light marked a split in the passageway ahead. The light was coming from the left branch. Voices echoed in the distance. Not the kind of voices from a pleasant conversation, but from what sounded like cries of agony. The repeating echoes gave her some idea as to the size of the cavern they were floating through. By the sound of it, the roof had risen out of reach.

  They made it to the edge of the split and found a small inlet with a docking area that had been cut out of the stone. Torches lined the upper walls, lighting a hewn walkway that circled half the inlet. Rope ladders hung from the shelf every ten to twelve feet down to the water, where several boats were already tied against the sides. From the water to the top of the cavern was at least thirty feet. The walkway led around to a tunnel at the front of the inlet with a single guard standing watch.

  Kira’s boat was the first in, the others still coming up behind. She turned and whispered to Griff on the third seat. “Can you hit that guard from here?”

  Griff studied the distance. “I think so.”
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br />   “You think so, or you know so? You miss, and we lose any chance at surprising them.”

  He looked once again and nodded. “I can do it.”

  Some of the other boats were floating up beside them as Griff nocked an arrow and stood. “Don’t anyone move,” he whispered, drawing the string to his cheek. Kira held her breath, doing her best to keep the boat steady. Griff held the arrow for what felt like forever. She was about to tell him to shoot already when his fingers finally released the string, and the arrow flew from the bow with a thrum.

  The lone guard groaned and stumbled backward against the wall. She smiled, then the guard moved. He pushed himself up from the wall and stumbled for the open tunnel. Before Griff could nock a second arrow, there was another thrum from one of the boats farther down, and the guard groaned once more, this time slumping into a sitting position with his head drooping forward.

  Kira spotted Gwen two boats down, hooking her bow back around her shoulders.

  They stowed the oars and moved the boats into place alongside the remaining hanging ladders. Kira’s boat, along with two others, took the left side, while the other two took the right. She grabbed for the ladder, but Po insisted he and Kerson go first. Their way of keeping her safe. She finally agreed, standing back to let them head up the wall in front of her. She had to admit it looked kind of fun.

  It was an interesting experience, climbing up something that swayed back and forth. A quick glance over her shoulder had her clinging to the rungs. She hoped the rope held. She hated to think what might be swimming in those dark waters below.

  Before she could turn back around, Kerson grabbed her arm and yanked her up onto the walkway. She bit down on her tongue to keep from berating him. A quick punch to the arm let him know she didn’t appreciate being manhandled.

  Once at the top, she started around the shelf toward the tunnel entrance as the rest of her crew made their way up the wall and around the walkway on the other side. They met at the entrance. Whoever these kidnappers were, they had quite the setup. If it wasn’t so hard to access, or if not for the fact that she would have to cross the water to get to it, she wouldn’t have minded making this place an extension of the Warrens. A fallback in case the underground was ever taken.

  Griff and Gwen retrieved their arrows from the dead guard and nocked them once more.

  Torches lined both sides of the stone corridor ahead. Kira drew her sword and dagger and motioned them forward, cries of pain urging them to go faster. She stopped at each new corner and peered around the side before pressing on. By the time they reached the last turn, she could hear other voices besides those begging for mercy.

  She moved to the edge to peek around the corner when someone walked around the other side. She dropped her sword, catching the side of the blade with the top of her foot to keep it from clanging, and grabbed the man’s mouth, yanking him up against the wall. She planted her dagger in his chest and watched his eyes glaze over. It was an instinctual reaction, one she could have kicked herself for. They could have used him to find out who was inside.

  It wasn’t until Kerson had lowered the man to the ground that she noticed what he was wearing: a white mantle with a crest showing a sword piercing a rising sun. He was one of the White Tower’s guards, a flaming member of the Black Watch. What did the White Tower have to do with kidnapping vagabonds from the streets of Aramoor?

  A voice in the back of her mind whispered she needed to get out of there. If the Black Watch was involved, this was bigger than they realized. She forced the warning aside. She’d made a promise to Ayri. If Reevie was here, she was going to find him.

  Po handed her her sword, and she tried once more to get a look around the corner. The tunnel opened into what looked like a long room or wide corridor, larger than the one they were in. Cages—stacked three high—lined the walls on either side. They were filled with people. More of the Tower’s guards paraded in front of the pens, some stopping long enough to toss in what looked like pieces of bread. Those inside nearly tore each other apart trying to get to the food. The guards stood back and laughed, while others wearing black robes studied the cages and their occupants and scribbled on pads of parchment.

  What in the Pits of Aran’gal was going on down here?

  Kira tried to find Reevie amongst those huddled inside the cages, but they were too far away to get a good look at their faces. Another set of screams came from somewhere on the right, sending chills up her arms. Whoever it was, they were being tortured. Kira didn’t much care for torture, but there were times when she had found it necessary. She couldn’t imagine what required the torturing of a bunch of Aramoor’s destitute. Only the truly depraved would be caught up in whatever was going on down here. She had come to rescue Reevie, but now she just wanted to kill whoever was doing this.

  The Warrens’ fighters pressed in behind her, clearly just as anxious to get on with the killing as she was. With each new cry, they shoved her a little closer to the edge. They needed to get a better idea of what they were up against, but there was no way to do so without being seen. All they could hope for was the element of surprise.

  She raised her sword and gave the signal.

  Kerson released a roar that nearly had her jumping out of her skin, and they charged.

  Kira tightened her grip as she flew out of the tunnel just behind Kerson and Po, doing her best not to get trampled by the rest of the clansmen as they poured into the chamber. Griff, Gwen, and Preece were directly behind her.

  For a brief moment, the guards and the black-clad scribes froze, the nearest of them cut down before the rest even thought to reach for weapons.

  By the time Kira passed the first set of cages, she could see they weren’t in a single room but a large tunnel. The left side of the tunnel stopped at a set of wide stairs, leading up to an open chamber at the top, while the right side ended about twenty feet down, just past the last of the cages.

  Kira stuck her sword through the back of a woman in black robes as the woman flung her papers into the air and tried to run. Pulling it free, Kira turned and blocked a guard’s swing for her head. She raised her dagger to finish him off but was beaten to it by a couple of clansmen as they raced past on their way to the stairs, both sticking the man in the gut on the way.

  The prisoners huddled at the backs of their cages, crying out in fear. She scanned the first three on her side, but there was no sign of Reevie.

  “Bloody vomit! Kira! Behind you!”

  Kira spun. A short man in ripped clothing stood at the front of one of the cages on her left, pointing at the stairs. It was hard to tell who it was, as covered as his face was in dirt and bruising. But she recognized the voice.

  Reevie.

  “Watch out! There’s more!”

  She turned. Men in white uniforms emptied down the stairs from the rooms above like worker ants bursting from a freshly poked mound. Where had they all come from? Were they living down here?

  She didn’t have time to worry about Reevie. “On me!” she shouted to her fighters, and charged the stairs. Po and Kerson rushed past her and hit the front line seconds before she did. Kerson took three men down with one powerful swing of his axe. Arrows buzzed past as Griff and Gwen unloaded from somewhere behind them.

  Kira ducked, barely missing catching a guard’s sword with her neck. While she was down, she buried her dagger in his gut. He collapsed on the steps, tripping the man behind him, who fell forward and landed perfectly on the tip of her sword.

  “My thanks,” she said, pulling it out and swinging at the next. Po shouted and stumbled back a step, blood on his arm. She deflected the next sword, kicked the man in between his legs, and slit his neck when he dropped to his knees.

  The press of the Tower’s guards was forcing them back, but her fighters continued to cut through them with vengeance.

  A guard on her left landed a lucky strike on her shoulder. She yelled at the stab of pain and grabbed the wound. Kerson roared and buried his axe halfway through the
man’s torso, soaking Kira and those nearby in blood. She cautiously moved her arm, feeling out the injury. The cut hadn’t been deep enough to stop her; it just hurt like the blazes. Just another scar to add to her collection.

  She killed another guard with a quick lunge and thrust, then turned and shouted at those behind to free the prisoners. If they couldn’t stop the Black Watch here, they could at least get Reevie and the others out of the cages and back down the tunnel toward the boats.

  A wave of heat suddenly rose behind them, followed by screams. She turned. Four of her people, along with some of the prisoners, lay sprawled next to the cages. Each had been burned to the point of being unrecognizable.

  What just happened? Kira pulled back from the fighting. The prisoners were retreating from the opposite end of the tunnel where a single robed individual stood with arms raised. His hood was back. She couldn’t tell what he was saying.

  Kira had a bad feeling.

  Griff and Gwen turned to the newcomer, aimed, and released their arrows. They veered into the wall as if hitting an invisible shield.

  “Wielder!” Kira cried, grabbing Po and yanking him back down the stairs. “We need you!” They had barely made it through the clan lines when the lone wielder sent another wave of fire at the two archers. Gwen and Preece managed to dive into the tunnel they had come from, leaving Griff scrambling in the opposite direction. Part of the flames hit his side, and he screamed.

  Gwen charged out of the tunnel and jumped on Griff, trying to extinguish the fire with her own body.

  “Po!” Kira slowed as they passed Griff and Gwen.

  The wielder raised his hands once more, but nothing happened. He looked down, then tried again. Nothing. His eyes bulged, and he dashed down another smaller tunnel on the left. Kira ran after him, threw her dagger, and caught him in the leg. He went down screaming, crawling as fast as he could toward a large metal door at the end.

  Kira and Po caught up. “Stop!” Kira ordered, Po lowering his blade in the man’s path. The wielder reluctantly stopped.