by Jackson Lear
I examined the lock as best I could, hoping that the rest of the castle would be fitted with a similar mechanism. It appeared to be an enclosed double drop-bar, a tricky bastard reserved for the wealthiest of homes back in Syuss. It meant I had to pry two independent bars up at the same time to unlock it. Even from the inside of the room I couldn’t see the inner workings of the lock. I tried the dagger. No way it would fit through the keyhole. Tried Saskia’s seeing wire. Wasn’t strong enough to lift one bar let alone two. I tested the chisel. A thin sliver of wood came off the three-inch thick door. With any luck I’d find someone with an actual key along the way.
I checked the corridor. The only source of light came from an open arrow slit at each end, the dim moonlight piercing through the narrow opening. Some chatter from down the left hand side came from the staircase below. Upbeat chatter at that. Friends talking, drinking, whatever. I returned to the window. Loken, Saskia, and Lindum were staring up at me. Lindum heard everything. I sent Loken a signal. 1: Z. 2: V. 3: A. 4: You.
He gave no indication of approval or dismissal. He simply glared, his life now in my hands. I peeled back into the dark corridor of the unknown castle and slipped away, curious to see who would find me first.
Chapter Thirteen
More than ever, I needed to keep my wits about me. Anyone hiding in the dark corridor would sense my movement, my overall shape passing over the faint light from the arrow slit behind me. All they had to do was wait until I drew closer. I trailed my fingers across the rough stone wall to guide me. Counted the doorways along my way. Checked each of the keyholes to see if anyone was inside. The fifth door yielded results. Light. I squeezed Saskia’s seeing wire through the keyhole. Someone dressed well enough to be considered a noble was passed out on his bed, a cup of wine sitting on the table next to the flickering lamp.
I lingered, my heart thumping wildly in my chest, bracing myself for another one of life’s stupid decisions. The noble remained still, one hand resting on his belly. I tried the handle. Locked. Half relieved, half disappointed. I gave him a solid ten seconds to see if his belly rose from a deep breath. Couldn’t tell. The layers of clothing up here made it difficult to figure out. I moved on.
A helix staircase. Went up. Paused at the top as a couple of cubs talked freely amongst themselves, one carrying a glowing bulb as they moved easily from one end of the corridor to the other. No indication that they were aware of a trap or impending massacre. I kept my dagger pointing out, just in case. Kept going up.
My view from the top-most arrow slit gave me a dizzying sense of dread. Three hundred feet down onto uneven rock. I had been prepared to jump that far? The strength in my legs shook just from the thought.
I returned to the rooftop stairwell. Checked the surrounding keyholes. No light came from any of them. Whispers came from the fifth room to the south. Isparian voices. Opposite side of the corridor: someone speaking in Telucian. Female. She sniffed back a sob and spoke again. Zara. No one else seemed to be in there with her.
I got to work slicing away the tough wood surrounding the lock. One sliver across, one sliver down, a notch here and there, twisting, squeezing, doing everything as quietly as possible to chisel my way through a door in almost perfect darkness. I lost my patience a few times and had to take some deep breaths to regain my composure, knowing that I probably had to do this twice more to free the rest of the vanguard and Alysia. Hopefully the chisel would hold up.
Boots. Nearby. I scrambled away, darting around the corridor and holding still. The bear and two cubs emerged with a set of candles. Stopped at the vanguard’s door. Unlocked it with sickening ease. Went inside. Chains rattled. Locks clicked open.
“Where are you taking him?” came Jarmella’s voice.
No answer. The bear returned, yanking one of the hooded vanguard along behind him, followed by the two cubs again.
I was tempted. Believe me, I was tempted. A dagger and a chisel. The bear unawares. Keys at his belt and three weapons easy to pick up. But I was a solid fifteen yards away and if the cub dropped the candles we would be fighting in total darkness. Less of a problem if I wanted to kill everyone in front of me, more of a problem if I was trying to save one of Kasera’s people from a wayward strike.
I considered a spell. Launch the bear towards me. Stab him in the throat. That would still leave two cubs fifteen yards away with the ability to shout. Perhaps launch their prisoner towards me? Too high of a chance he would be injured on the landing.
I waited too long. The cubs locked the door. The bear pulled their prisoner away, down the stairs, returning the corridor to darkness. I needed a moment for my night vision to return. Annoyed at losing my chance of finding an opening I crept back to Zara’s door. Continued working the chisel by touch alone.
At the count of two hundred I paused, returned to the southern end of the corridor and remained by the arrow slit. I had a reasonable view of the courtyard down below and our dungeon next to it. I had a chance to massage my hands after gripping the chisel a little too tight.
Another hundred seconds passed. The bear and his hooded prisoner emerged. He was thrown back into the dungeon with Loken and the others. No other prisoners were taken. Door locked and barred. The bear returned to the castle. So far no blood bath, but it was coming.
I wrestled with that fucking door for longer than I cared for, but at long last I managed to break through that stupid piece of shit, it swinging open with ease while the lock remained in place. Zara rose. Could barely see who it was.
“It’s me.”
“Oh shit. How long do we have?”
“No idea. Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She crept into the corridor. I stared back at Zara’s unusually short hair. “I know. Assholes tossed my wig off the side of the castle.”
“Did you have any tools hidden in there?”
“Lock picks and the like. They weren’t happy to find those.”
“You still got out of your manacles.”
“I don’t hide everything in my hair. How did you get in?”
I held up the chisel.
“It sounded like rats gnawing at my door for ages. Where’s everyone else?”
“Loken and the others? In the dungeon. Jarmella and a few others? That door there.”
“And Miss Kasera?”
“Third floor. Western corner. There’s going to be a massacre.”
“No kidding.”
“And we’re the distraction. Take this.” I gave her Elizandria’s dagger and got to work on the next door. “Did anyone say anything useful to you?”
“No.”
“What about a ghost?”
She didn’t answer.
“Who did you see?”
“No one.”
“Bullshit. I saw someone pretending to be my father. Who was yours?”
“Tell me more about this massacre.”
“According to Elizandria the whole castle is about to erupt into a free-for-all. Everyone hates everyone, no one trusts anyone, few want the alliance with the vampires, fewer still want Agnarr on the throne or Ispar backing one of their nobles, so the best guess right now is that there is going to be an all-round slaughter and someone else will sit on the throne by this time tomorrow.”
“And how do we fit in?” asked Zara.
“Easy. We get the blame, which means they are going to have to act fast. Whoever wins will be able to unite the nobles with their hatred of the southerners.”
A split in the wood formed. I pried it open as best I could, chiseled away whatever stubbornly refused to break. Finally wrenched the lock free, allowing the door to swing open.
The room was pitch black. Splotches of color crossed my eyes, my ears tingling with the shuffles from all directions.
“Jarmella?” asked Zara.
“Over here.”
“Keep talking so I can find you.”
Jarmella did so, reciting “I’m over here,” several times until Zara bumped into her.
“
Who else is here?” I asked.
“Vyfred, Ivar, Otario, and Aedalis.”
“Odalis and Leif are back in the dungeon,” I said. “Who did they just take away?”
“Berik,” said Jarmella. Mage. Twenty years old. Tall. Wide hips. Sizeable ass. Thighs like tree trunks and a quick-witted retort that was faster than a belt across the face. She had darker than usual skin coupled with bedazzling green eyes. That practically made her a witch in anyone’s book; a kink for some, reviled by others. “I expected you to be dead by now.”
“I expected to die before reaching twenty. Were Magnus and Arvid up here as well?”
“They’ve been swapping us around since we were brought up here. We’ve each been taken downstairs in a hood, doused in freezing water and forced to drink that blood wine. I saw them both but I don’t know where they are now.”
Zara cracked the first lock.
“Thank you,” said Jarmella. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re getting out of Brilskeep right now,” I said. “Violently if we have to but I’d prefer to avoid that. After we get you lot out we’re freeing Miss Kasera together. Then we’re going for our weapons. I believe they are hiding behind the great hall and down the stairs. If we can do all of that quietly we will lower everyone else’s equipment through one of the dungeon murder holes to arm the rest of the vanguard. Then we free them, the sailors, hijack the ship we came in on, and sail out of here.”
I was met with a round of silence.
“There’s no way we can do all of that without violence,” said Jarmella.
“Were you all kidnapped on imperial land and taken hostage by a known enemy? Someone who has orchestrated deadly raids against imperial citizens and soldiers? Were you all deprived of food and water and had your lives threatened with being pushed off the side of the castle?”
Zara cracked another manacle.
“I can’t have anyone hesitate. Not tonight. You each need to be able to save all of our lives by doing whatever is necessary. Right now ‘necessary’ is being as sneaky as fuck so that no one even knows we’ve escaped. I hope it stays that way but if it doesn’t then I expect each of you to grab the first weapon you find and ram it into the face of anyone who’s trying to kill us.”
The last manacle broke free.
I was hoping to hear some agreement from at least one of them. “Zara?”
“Ready. Keep your chisel handy.”
We reached the third floor. Alysia’s. Candle light stretched across one wall. Two cubs stood at the far end. I signaled behind to Zara. Swapped places. She signaled in return: Go around.
Either way it looked like we would be noticed by them if we made a move, but at least from the other stairwell we would be closer to the attack, giving them less chance to fire off a spell.
Zara signaled the move to the vanguard. Down one flight of stairs, along the corridor, then up the other side. Zara and I led the way, tiptoeing down every step with our fingers tracing the wall to guide us through the darkness.
I peered out into the corridor. More light. Someone else down the far end. A mercenary. Maybe sixteen years old. Fidgeting. On edge. A nervous lookout waiting for a signal that was long past overdue.
We didn’t have long.
Zara tapped me on the shoulder.
A clatter of bowls and a food tray struck the stone floor nearby. A scream curdled through the castle. Female. High-pitched.
The mercenary sprang to the side. Sword drawn. Ready to attack.
I ran down the stairs, charged along the corridor, bounced off a wall and around the corner, and found a maid backing away from me, shaking with fright, cowering, whimpering. We were in the great hall. In front of us was a slaughter of dead bodies.
Chapter Fourteen
Cries ricocheted through the castle corridors. Thumps of leather boots tore through every room. Bellows in a northern tongue to gather the troops, seal the exits, and close the city.
The maid shrieked as she ran from me, no doubt shouting: “The great hall! They’re in the great hall!”
Unarmed men and women lay dead at my feet. Some with obvious sword wounds to the chest and neck. Blood was still spilling from their throats. Zara pushed past me. Checked a couple of the faces. Pulled their eyelids up with her thumb. Sniffed their mouths. Our crate of wine lay open, the bottles uncorked and on the table, the goblets still reasonably full. One of the bottles rolled to a crash on the stone floor.
Zara rose. Dusted her hands. “Let’s go.”
I pointed the vanguard to the far door. “Our gear should be through there. Down a staircase. Zara and I are going after Alysia.”
We broke apart, the five members of the vanguard briefly searching the nobles for any weapon before Jarmella hurried them into action. Zara and I ran back the way we came.
Boots stormed behind us, forcing us down one corridor and to a flight of stairs with incoming grunts from above. Zara threw herself against the wall beside the opening. I did the same. The first sword emerged. Northern. I ran my chisel through the bearer’s throat. Zara did the same with Elizandria’s dagger. The northerner shuddered, his muscles squeezing tightly while momentum propelled him forward. He staggered on the last step, falling, instinctively twisting to the side to brace himself against the impact.
Shouts of an attack bellowed into my ear as the next northerner skittered to a stop, swinging down from the staircase with his sword and swiping to the side while I kept him busy. Zara scooped up the fallen cub’s sword, skewered our new attacker in the shin. He howled in agony, the cut driving cleanly through his calf muscle. Zara snapped her sword up, nicked his attacking hand. I caught him in the gut. She got him in the thigh. Both twisted. Both wrenched our weapons away. The cub behind thumped his friend forward with little regard for his wellbeing. I drove the chisel into the dying man’s throat. Twisted. Gathered up his sword and wondered who would give me a third weapon.
Zara and I feinted a retreat, drawing the cub into pursuit. She turned first. The cub skidded forward. Zara ducked, scythed through the air and swung upwards on the return. The cub dodged her first attack, recoiled from the second, and found my new sword hurling towards his face in a haphazard throw.
It thumped him side-on, a nice nick just beside his nose as he brought both arms up in a cross to block the attack. Zara skewered him an inch from his balls, striking his femoral artery. She pulled back. The cub hissed and hobbled away, his leg going numb and unable to hold much of his weight. Just as he realized that this was his end he drew in a deep furious breath – a death knell spell rising forth. I threw my chisel at his face. He shuddered, eyes closed, blocking himself once again and giving Zara the opportunity to ram her sword into the underside of his chin, straight through his tongue, and slicing all the way into his tonsils.
I retrieved my chisel, handed the cub’s sword to Zara, took one for myself, and charged up the helix staircase. “It’s no longer a diplomatic mission!”
Zara whistled a quick burst of a bird’s call, a signal to the vanguard in case they could miraculously hear her.
We reached Alysia’s floor. The bear and three of his cubs were barreling down the corridor, racing towards us and Alysia’s room.
Outside a thunderous BOOM lifted us off our feet. Our mages had obliterated the door to the dungeon. The vanguard were about to storm the castle.
War cries flooded the grounds, rising through the narrow windows with shrieks of mayhem and murder echoing all around us.
The half-bearded bear was going to reach Alysia’s room first. He slowed, his cubs still racing towards us. Two with axes. One with a sword.
I bellowed a warning to Alysia and charged forward. One of the cubs fired off a spell, knocking my ankle out from under me and dropping me into a belly flop. Another threw his ax at me, it arcing through the air and striking my arm. I felt the slice shear through my armor and send warm blood towards my elbow.
Zara leapt over me. Engaged with the cubs. I got back to my feet. “Stay to the
right!”
She shifted over. I ducked and sliced into the cub’s boot, using my chisel hand to block the next attack. Swiped again at the other foot, skewered his heel. He didn’t even realize the hit but his balance certainly did.
“Forward!” I shouted, driving Zara through the narrow corridor. Our cub hobbled back, expected to land easily and couldn’t, now flailing about as we pushed him back. He slipped, dropping to one knee. I ran my sword straight through his temple. Couldn’t retrieve it easily. Left it in his head. Scooped up his sword instead.
Zara lunged at the other two and stepped back, feinting and provoking, concentrating an attack one, two, three to the middle of the corridor. The cub finally fell for the routine and swiped for where Zara should’ve been exposed, but Zara had it covered. The moment the cub lunged Zara did the same, throwing her body against the wall and pinning his ax hand against the brickwork. Rammed her sword straight up into the cub’s throat, tongue, and head.
I stepped into the opening. The final cub was a whirlwind of frenzied panic, hacking and swiping with two small axes and a reach greater than mine. But there was a pattern. I lunged. Missed. He recognized it too and pulled back to protect his hands on the next swipe, but I got him. Sheared two of his fingers clean off at the knuckles. His ax remained. His grip still tight. I crashed my sword into his ax. Slowed his momentum down, stabbed his hand again with my chisel. The ax fell from his grasp. I stabbed again and again, severe wounds to his hand and doing whatever I could to scare him. I kicked at his knee. Hooked it. Knocked him off balance. He fell into a lunge while I pulled away. Zara knocked his ax to the side, kicked him in the face. He lunged again, catching her foot in a tight grip and wrenching her off her feet. He slammed his forehead into her leg while Zara yelped, twisted, snapped both legs around his torso as she tried to find a choking point. I crunched down on the cub’s weapon hand. Drove my chisel through his padded shoulder, into his heart, skewered him again into his lungs. His strength at holding on was downright impressive. He punched at Zara, getting a couple of decent hits considering his near death situation.