“Stay close,” the Gloom Bringer said. “You won’t be seen and your footsteps won’t be heard, but don’t walk into anyone, or they will know you’re close. When we get into the Duke’s presence you will not have long before he detects you. He is cunning and suspicious in equal measures, so do not hesitate and remember that I will not be able to assist you.”
As we clustered around close behind her, I gave thought to what would happen if we failed, since the Duke would know that the Gloom Bringer was complicit in the attempt on his life. I gave up thinking about it – it wasn’t my concern. Even if we were to be double-crossed at every turn, at least we now found ourselves with a chance to kill the Duke. The thought occurred that this chance might also be a double-cross and that we could be ambushed somewhere in these dungeons, but that would still have been no worse a position than being locked in a cell.
The Gloom Bringer travelled quickly, her long strides retracing the same corridors along which we’d come two weeks previously. She took us through the guard room without pause. There was no sign of any blood drinkers now, and eight men lounged about, appearing to be bored and restless. They looked puzzled as we went by, and one or two stared around the room as if they’d caught wind of something. From their reactions, I took it that they couldn’t see either us or the Gloom Bringer, but that some part of their minds could tell that something wasn’t exactly right.
“The minds of men are easy to fool,” said the Gloom Bringer with malice.
We went up the stairs which led onto the ground floor. There was no sign of the broken door, nor was there any indication that a replacement was on its way.
“It is night time,” the Death Sorcerer said. “Though the Duke does not sleep. He fears that if he does, his body may crumble, casting his mind adrift on the warp and weft.”
“What afflicts him?” I asked. I had long ago realised that something was wrong with him, but had never spoken to him about it. It wasn’t the sort of question he appreciated.
“He caught a wasting disease from one of the countless women he used to rape.” I wasn’t sure if I heard a note of disgust in her voice. The Gloom Bringer had little to be proud of herself, so I didn’t know if she had the conceit to judge.
“It made his balls dry up and then his cock shrivelled and fell off,” she continued. This time I was sure there was relish in her husky voice.
“The Duke has been hurt before,” I said. “And always his magics have healed his body.”
The Gloom Bringer chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. “This particular wasting disease is resistant to his magic, but the Duke is not a man to give up on his own life easily and he is reduced to using the life of others to sustain himself. I don’t believe that was the intended consequence.”
“What do you mean by intended consequence?” I asked.
The Gloom Bringer didn’t reply, and I guessed she had said more than she’d wanted to. The analytical part of my brain picked up the information, turned it over, examined it and then disgorged one of the many possibilities.
“The Emperor created this disease to kill the Duke, didn’t he?” I said. “He infected a woman and sent her to Blades for the Duke’s pleasure.” There was still no confirmation forthcoming. Sometimes silence conveys a clearer message than any number of words. I ploughed on:
“But Malleus hadn’t anticipated what his Duke would turn to in his desperation to cling onto life. And now, after all these years, after all the deaths, he’s finally realised that he needs to take more direct action. I see that the Emperor is fallible after all.”
“You amuse the Emperor, Tyrus Charing,” she replied. “But do not anger him.”
“I am not stupid, Gloom Bringer,” I said. “But do not think that I fear the Emperor, or what he might do to me.”
“He warned me about your stubbornness, Captain Charing,” she replied. “I think I can see why you were amongst his favoured.”
I didn’t reply to that accusation. I had never curried favour and had always just done my duty as a soldier and as an officer. Now, the notion that I had been the Emperor’s favourite was almost used as an insult against me. I thought it belittling, as if I was a faithful hound or an obedient child, rather than a man who always did his best.
As we talked, we continued at the same rapid pace that we had maintained since we left the cell. The keep had changed little since the last time I’d been here and I could tell that the Gloom Bringer was taking us to a flight of stairs situated towards the far end of the building. It wasn’t the quickest way upwards, but I didn’t know if the main stairs were more heavily guarded. I’d already noticed that she didn’t take us any closer to the patrolling guards than she needed to and I guessed that the concealing shroud became harder to maintain the more eyes there were looking towards us. As we progressed, I thought I began to feel the cloak, twisting the underlying threads of power that only men and women of magic could manipulate. When we came close to the guards I sensed a strange thrumming, as if the Gloom Bringer was diverting more of her power into maintaining our invisibility. When we passed out of sight, the thrumming faded again.
She found the steps and we ascended. The stairwell was narrow and doubled back upon itself every twenty treads. We nearly encountered men coming down from above, their heavy footsteps giving us plenty of warning about their arrival. Without pause, the Gloom Bringer turned and led us all the way to the bottom again, where we waited for a patrol of four soldiers to go on their way. The Emperor’s Death Sorcerers weren’t known for their caution, so I was sure that she was treating this visit to the Duke with the greatest amount of respect. I doubted she’d enjoy her meeting with the Emperor if she failed. Up we went again, onto the first floor. The steps continued upwards from this same stairwell and we hurried on, until we came to the second floor. I’d been here once or twice, but wasn’t sure of the layout.
There was carpet underfoot now – I imagined it had once been deep and rich, but now it was worn through in places, the original red become faded and grubby. We followed a corridor along the perimeter and passed a number of narrow windows. There was nothing to be seen through them – just more darkness. There were wooden doors along one side of the passage. They were dark, sturdy affairs and gave no clue as to what lay behind. Over the years, there had been officers and other important men on this floor. However, the Duke had always vacillated and every so often he would demand a clear out of the keep, as if he feared for his security. On those occasions, the higher floors would be left almost empty, or at least home to only a few of whichever men he decided he trusted at the time. I was fairly sure it was all a game to him, to keep people guessing.
“What will you do now that your Saviour is dead?” asked the Gloom Bringer, catching me unawares.
“There will be another Saviour,” I said, after giving the question some thought. “We have sworn ourselves to her service.”
“Did you not feel yourselves freed from your vows when she was killed?” the Gloom Bringer asked.
“No,” I said at once. “The Saviour’s body has been killed, but as long as I am sure of her return, our vow remains. We have lived for a very long time, and we will still be here when she comes back.”
“I wish you good luck, Captain,” she replied. I replayed the comment in my head and could not detect anything other than sincerity in the words.
There were more guards here, patrolling in groups of four and six. The passage was wide enough that we were able to walk by them easily enough, though it was clear that a number could tell that something was amiss. I knew that a few people were more sensitive to magic than others, but it came as a surprise to notice how many of the guards showed a reaction. It could have been owing to the effort the Gloom Bringer was putting into concealing all eight of us – even the thickest-skinned people could tell when true power was being deployed. I recalled Gagnol the Blackhearted’s assault on the ancient gates of Treads and how the power he called upon brought the wind rustling through our hair, as if there w
as a cross-over between the world we saw and the world Warmont’s Second used to draw his energies.
Further along, the corridor opened out into a huge room which must have taken up a considerable amount of the inner space of this floor. Huge, ugly square pillars supported the ceilings and shabby tapestries hung from the walls nearest to us, giving the first sign of decoration I’d seen. In the centre of the room, partially concealed by pillars, was an open, grand staircase, leading to the third floor. Two men were descending it, dressed in brown robes. Their heads were bald and they sported long beards. They were about twenty yards away and didn’t seem in any great hurry. The Gloom Bringer stopped immediately, taking cover behind a pillar.
“It’s Corporal Ploster’s brothers!” whispered Bolt gleefully, before anyone else could speak.
The Gloom Bringer wasn’t amused. “They’re two of the Duke’s watchers,” she said. “My shroud is subtle, but I will need to increase its power when they get closer. The magnitude will alert them to our presence.”
“Perhaps they will turn away from us and head in the opposite direction,” I said. There was an equal chance of them going right instead of left.
Of course, they did not turn in the other direction. As soon as they had finished their descent, they headed straight towards us. I had a few moments to note the look of surprise on their faces as we materialised a little way in front of them, running with our swords raised to strike. The first one fell to a diagonal cut from Beamer, which split his head in two and showered me in the pieces. The second sorcerer was quicker to react and raised his hand towards me. I felt an outpouring of force strike me in the chest and stomach, but I shrugged it off and finished the sword swing which I had sent in his direction. He surprised me by leaning quickly out of the way at a much greater speed than I’d expected. Even so, my blade took his arm off, and he opened his mouth to scream. No sound escaped his lips and his body ignited in front of me, suddenly burning a ferocious orange. I fancied I heard the air being sucked from his lungs as the heat burned him alive from the inside. The man was tough and I saw the flames dim briefly as his magics tried to suppress the mageflame that covered him. It was not enough and the Duke’s sorcerer died in comparative silence, the tissue of his body crackling as he lay on the carpet.
“We must act fast,” said the Gloom Bringer. “I do not know if there are other watchers who will have detected that burning.”
I looked at Ploster, since I had recognized the magic as his. “Sorry, Captain,” he said. “I took a gamble. Thought he was going to scream.”
“Let us hope that it is no matter,” I replied. We gathered about the Gloom Bringer again. Our encounter with the sorcerers had been brief and I saw no sign that we had alerted others of the Duke’s household guard. Regardless, there were two dead bodies lying on the ground that would be discovered in the near future. We could have dragged them behind a pillar, but the mess was too great to think that such a simple ruse would delay the discovery of our attack.
The Gloom Bringer had already reached the stairs. “The Duke is up here,” she reminded us. “The time to act is likely to come quickly, but I remember you to be decisive, Captain Charing. There will not be more than one chance.”
“Climb,” I said.
12
The steps ended at a carpeted landing, with the same decaying tapestries on the walls and little else to indicate that someone of note lived here. There were passages leading to the left and right, whilst straight ahead were two heavy doors, made of thick-looking wood. The doors were ostentatious only in their size, and although I had never been this high in the keep before, I knew at once who lived behind them. I looked along the corridor to both sides, but there was no sign of movement, nor was there anything to be heard.
“Stay close,” said the Gloom Bringer. “I can’t fool him for long.”
Without further pause, she strode across to the doors. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they had no handles on them and I thought it likely that they had magics embedded into the wood, to repel any unwanted intrusions upon the Duke’s quarters. Something appeared in the Gloom Bringer’s hand – I couldn’t see quite what it was, but it looked like an amulet of some description, made out of what I took to be gold. She held it close to the door. There was no dramatic signal of the amulet’s success, but a soft click indicated that the door had been opened. The Gloom Bringer pushed upon it and it swung back, gently and quietly.
I looked around at my men – there were no signs of nervousness and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen any outward display of fear from my soldiers. We had our swords drawn, even Ploster. The First Cohort’s sorcerer could definitely fight, but he didn’t always see the need to draw his sword before every battle. I guessed he thought that his magical blade would serve him better than his sorcery against the Duke. I caught Weevil’s eye and grinned at him. He returned the favour, showing me that he was ready and eager to find out what lay ahead.
The Gloom Bringer entered the Duke’s rooms. There was ample light, which emanated from small globes embedded into the walls. It was clearly magical in nature and of a peculiar pink shade that was strangely inappropriate for the surroundings. This first room was square and furnished sparingly with a large wooden table and two chairs. It didn’t look like a suitable place to eat or sit, but it wasn’t important for me to know its purpose.
“He knows I’m here,” said the Gloom Bringer.
We crossed straight over this room, stepping around the table. There was another door, which the Gloom Bringer opened with the more conventional means of a handle. The first chamber had been without menace – mundane, almost. This next room was anything but.
“This room is directly in the middle of the top floor,” whispered the Gloom Bringer. “From where the Duke considers it least likely that the screams will be heard.”
I didn’t know why she thought to tell us, but in a way, I was grateful for what she said. We’d entered the Duke’s torture chamber, though there was little in the way of imaginative tools. There were four low, wooden tables, perpendicular to the door we’d entered. There were binding posts and ropes on each table, where someone could be restrained. All four of the tables were occupied and none of the people lying there could have been older than sixteen.
“The Duke has convinced himself that the life glows stronger in the younger ones. And that their pain makes it glow stronger yet,” the Death Sorcerer continued.
I looked at the closest body, aghast at the ruination inflicted upon it. I thought I had seen it all, but the pain that this young girl must have suffered at the hands of the Duke was beyond my comprehension. For some reason, I was given the impression that the Gloom Bringer didn’t approve and she walked on, her face looking ahead. I supposed that there were degrees of commitment even amongst the evillest. We had hesitated behind her, taking in the sight of death, as if to remind ourselves that we’d once served the man who’d committed these atrocities.
“Come quickly,” she hissed.
None of us moved immediately. I heard the sound of a low whimper, uttered so quietly as if it sought to escape notice in the knowledge of what that attention would bring.
“This one’s still alive!” said Grids.
The young lad’s lips moved, though no more sound came from them. I couldn’t imagine how he had managed to live through the pain. Life is a gift that can often cling on stubbornly, long past the time we might have rather it had left us. I looked at the empty sockets where his eyes had once been and begged forgiveness, though I did not know who from. My sword ended his life, a single blow killing him when the previous hundreds of injuries had not.
We didn’t speak – none of us had any words to say. There was only one thing we could do to say our apologies to these dead children and we caught up with the Gloom Bringer, our jaws set and our knuckles white from where we gripped the handle of our swords. If there had been impressions left in the metal of my hilt, I wouldn’t have wondered at my strength.
&
nbsp; “He is through here,” said the Gloom Bringer, indicating another door, the same as the others on this floor. “He is already curious as to why I am visiting him at this late hour.”
We entered a new room, this one being bigger than the other two. There were bookshelves around the walls, devoid of books. There was a low table and a single padded chair. In one corner was a plinth, upon which sat a large globe of purple glass. And there was the Duke. He was seated in the chair, facing the doorway. He looked up and made an expression that was somewhere between a smile and a sneer.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?” he asked. He was dressed in dark robes that covered his body, but did not hide the thinness of his frame.
“This is the Emperor’s keep and I can come as I choose,” snapped the Gloom Bringer.
“Of course you can,” the Duke responded smoothly. “The Emperor’s Death Sorcerer is welcome at any time.” With the niceties over, he spoke again. “I assume you have come with news?”
The Gloom Bringer approached the Duke, slowly and casually. “The Emperor has spoken to me.”
“And?”
“He has discovered that he still has a use for Captain Charing and his men,” she said.
“I am not pleased. Am I to be denied Charing’s death? The man betrayed me, and by doing so he has betrayed the Emperor himself!”
“The Emperor is not concerned with your desire for vengeance,” said the Gloom Bringer. “He has other things that need his attention.”
As the Gloom Bringer finished her sentence, I watched the Duke’s eyes narrow in a sudden suspicion. “Who is it that you have brought with you?” he said.
I didn’t need to hear anything more. The muscles of my legs were coiled with anger and I ran at the Duke, my sword above my head. Behind me, I could hear the other men burst forward as they took my lead. As I emerged from the Gloom Bringer’s shroud I saw the old bastard’s eyes widen in shock. I was less than ten feet from him and my sword was already descending as I anticipated where the first, most important, blow would land.
Strength of Swords (First Cohort Book 2) Page 14