“I should have done that before you left the Ward,” Brandt whispered in a breathy voice.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I…was afraid.”
“I wouldn’t have hit you.”
He smiled at the comment. “I know.”
“Why, then?”
Brandt’s gaze lowered before looking back into her eyes. “Because…I care. I find myself wishing to be with you. That is…new for me.”
A smile spread across her face. “I have that effect on people. They cannot get enough of me.”
Brandt chuckled. “You sound like me.”
“Good. That was the intent.”
“I have something for you, from Everson.” He withdrew two Chaos traps from his cloak pocket. Starlight sparkled from the etchings in the bronze disks.
“Two of them?”
“Yes. He said you may need them.”
Quinn took them and slid them into her vest. “Good. I expended the one he had given me while saving Varius.”
“There are wild rumors. Staff members are saying you saved the Archon’s life. Some of the stories are…well, I’m sure you can guess. What really happened?”
She looked away and appeared upset. “It was Wyck. He tried to kill Varius.”
“Wyck?” Startled, he realized he had said it too loud.
“Shh,” she hushed him.
In a quieter voice, Brandt asked, “Why would Wyck be here?”
“He said that Firellus sent him to Cinti Mor to spy as a guard for Dorlan. Unfortunately, when Wyck foiled an assassination attempt on the prelate, he was promoted and relocated here.”
“I’m with you so far.”
“I was working as Varius’ handmaid, so my room was beside hers. After hearing a commotion, I entered her chamber and found her unconscious with Wyck standing over her, about to kill her. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He attacked me, I fought back, and somehow…he died.”
Hearing the pain in her voice, Brandt took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry it came to that. It must have been difficult for you, even if the man was an ass.”
Quinn closed her eyes for a long moment.
In a quiet voice, Brandt asked, “I wonder why you chose to protect her?”
Quinn opened her eyes and took a deep breath before replying. “The Archon was the only reason the Empire has not attempted to extend their reach since taking Kalimar. General Kardan and half the council were pushing for war against the west. Varius took a firm stance to stop them, fearing the destruction it would yield. However…Wyck’s attack on Varius changed the situation.”
“How so?”
“She blames the kingdoms for the assassination attempt. Today, she spoke to the Council and the city prelates, in favor of war.” Quinn’s voice took on an edge of fear. “They are laying out their strategy and will likely attack soon.”
“What more do you know?” Brandt asked. “I must tell my sister.”
“Cassie?”
“Yes. There is something that few people know about us.” Brandt lowered his voice even further, now a faint whisper. He was about to share a precious secret, one he hoped she would hold close. “She and I can communicate telepathically. I simply must think it, and she can hear me, the same as I can hear her. That ability is why I’m here, to help you and to act as a conduit between you and the Ward.”
Quinn’s brow furrowed as she stared at Brandt for a moment. “They have weapons they intend to use against the kingdoms – explosive weapons made from something called flash powder. Explosives were used to blow up walls so they could quickly capture cities such as Sol Polis.
“Someone named Jarlish is developing a new weapon with flash powder. I fear what it might mean for the west and the destruction it might render. Imagine a Chaos-wielding army facing one armed with explosive weapons. What could a sword do against such power?”
Brandt wrapped his arms about her, and she squeezed him back while resting her head on his shoulder. It felt good to hold her and to be held. He wondered how she had managed to keep her edge, all alone in the stronghold of the enemy, hundreds of miles from anyone she knew. She squeezed him so hard that it was difficult to breathe. That alone told him more than mere words could convey.
“We will figure something out, Quinn,” he whispered. “Together, we will find a way to stop this war.”
Quinn relaxed her embrace and looked him in the eye. In that gaze, he saw a fierce determination and knew that she was about to ask something of him.
“Did you ever meet the king of Kalimar?
“King Dalwin?” He shrugged. “Sure. A number of times. The last was three or four years back.”
“Good. There is something I must do, but I cannot do it alone,” Quinn said. “I need your help, but it will be dangerous.”
Brandt grinned. She needs me. “Danger? Danger happens to be my favorite.”
Moving quietly, Brandt followed Quinn down the dark stairwell, the damp air growing cooler and carrying an ancient mustiness with it. He had visited the Kantar Citadel dungeon numerous times. The air in this stairwell rekindled memories of that place and the torture chamber it housed. His father said that he never used the chamber – that it only remained as a relic from Empire rule. Just thinking about that room – the instruments it contained, the horrors it had inflicted – sent chills down Brandt’s spine.
Now, Brandt and Quinn were entering a dungeon under the control of the Empire. He shuddered at the thought of being captured and tortured. Gathering his resolve, he put his fears aside and placed his faith in Quinn. If what she told him was true, he agreed that the opportunity outweighed the risk. Besides, her plan had merit.
The couple continued their descent with Brandt following the dim glowlamp Quinn carried, an uncharged lamp that did little to fend off the surrounding darkness. When she reached the bottom, Quinn led him to a pair of ornately carved doors, the etchings in the wood covered in dust. She opened the door slowly and the hinges emitted in a groan. Without pausing, she led him across a room filled with junk. Cobwebs billowed overhead as she walked past the refuse and opened another door. They entered a corridor with light pouring through an open doorway at the far end. Quinn rested the glowlamp on the floor and turned to face Brandt.
“With any luck, the jailor will be sleeping,” she said in a hushed tone.
He snorted. “It’s the middle of the night. We should be sleeping as well.”
“Hush. You agreed to do this. We must act, for we may not have much time.”
“Fine. Tell me what you need me to do.”
“Since there are only two of us, stealth should be used in favor of brawn. Besides, I have worked hard to get into this position, and I don’t wish to toss it aside now.”
“Fair enough.”
“When we get to the room, I need you to sneak in and steal his key ring. It may be hooked to his belt. Once you have it, make a run for it, but head away from where we now stand.” Quinn hefted the cudgel she procured. “I’ll knock him out from behind and then we can proceed.”
Brandt gave a nod and began to slip past her, stopping when she grabbed his arm.
“What?”
She pulled the dagger from the sheath strapped to her thigh and handed it to him. “Take this in case you need to cut the keys from his belt.” She gripped his tunic and pulled him toward her until their lips met, warm and soft and wet.
When Quinn released him, she stared into his eyes. “Pull your hood up to hide your face. Stick to the plan and stay alive.”
He grinned at her as he pulled his hood up. “You like me, don’t you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Go.”
Brandt headed down the dark corridor, lined with closed doors. As he neared the doorway to the lit room, the rumble of a snore arose. He peered around the doorframe and found the guard asleep in a chair behind the desk. The man was massive. Brandt pictured the man waking and pummeling him with his cudgel until he was an unrecogn
izable mess. He turned toward Quinn, who had trailed behind him.
“You didn’t tell me he was a giant.” He whispered.
“Hush. Just go get the keys.” She waved him along.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Brandt snuck into the room. Each step of his boots in the dirt seemed amplified, the crunch bouncing off the hard walls and ceiling. Brandt’s own pulse thumped in his ears as he neared the jailor, a drum that threatened to wake the sleeping giant before him. As Quinn had said, a black keyring hung from the man’s belt, but the man’s thick forearm covered the cord tied to it.
Moving slowly, Brandt crouched down and gripped the key ring. He tried to move it to expose the cord, but the man stirred. Rather than try and expose the cord further, Brandt lifted his dagger and began to saw at the bit wrapped through the key ring. The dagger slipped, the point going straight into the man’s arm.
“Argh!” The guard cried out, at first pulling his arm away and then swatting at Brandt. The man’s meaty hand struck Brandt upside the head, and he fell to the dirt with the key ring in his grip.
“You little thief!” the man growled as he scooped up his cudgel and stood.
Brandt crawled away from the man and had to roll to the side to dodge the descending weapon. The cudgel smashed into the dirt with a thud and a puff of dust. When the man raised it again, Brandt yipped and scrambled to his feet. He darted into the corridor and stopped just outside the door.
“Give me those keys, or I’ll kill you!”
The jailor hefted his cudgel and lumbered toward the door. Brandt backed away slowly, moving down the hall opposite from where Quinn waited. As the towering man neared the doorway, his thick body eclipsed the light and darkened the corridor. He stepped through and turned toward Brandt. A loud crack sounded, and the man bent his head forward, stumbling to the wall. The man spun toward Quinn with a backhand swipe, which she dodged by spinning away. Alarmed, Brandt dropped the keys and leaped upon the big man’s back. The guard twisted and backed Brandt into the wall, driving the air from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He slipped off and fell to the floor on his side. The man lifted his cudgel, and Brandt felt a stab of panic. A loud crack sounded when Quinn’s cudgel struck the back of the man’s head again, this time causing him to fall to his knees. Quinn swung with an overhead strike aimed at the top of the man’s head. Another crack echoed in the corridor and the man fell face-first atop Brandt.
With the dead weight of a three hundred pound man atop him, Brandt squirmed and struggled. “Get…him…off…me.”
Leaning hard into the man, Quinn was able to help Brandt roll the jailor over. Sitting upright with gasping breaths, Brandt stared at the man and hoped that he remained unconscious.
“That was close,” Quinn said.
He nodded weakly. “Yeah. Too close.”
“Do you think he saw me?” she asked.
“In this light? No way.”
“Good. I’d rather not kill him. Come on. We don’t have much time.” She turned, scooped the keys from the dirt, and stepped back through the doorway.
Groaning as he rose to his feet, Brandt stumbled before following her into the room.
Without pause, she walked straight to one of the cell doors and began testing keys. With her third attempt, the key turned in the lock and made an audible click. Quinn glanced back at Brandt, pressed her lips together, and pushed the door open.
The cell was dark, too dark to see anything. The smell was worse than anything Brandt had ever smelled before.
“Grab the light,” she said.
He walked to the desk, picked up the glowlamp, and shook it until the light brightened. At the back of the cell was a man, sitting on a pallet and leaning against the wall. With graying black hair and a scraggily beard to match, he appeared undernourished and the rags he wore were covered in splotches of dried blood and dirt.
“Are you all right?” Quinn asked.
The man squinted and blinked at the light. “Is this real or another illusion?”
Quinn entered the cell and squatted before the man. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I assure you, I am real. What is your name?”
“My name?” the man coughed. “My name is Dalwin Pretencia.”
Brandt moved closer to get a better look. The man’s state, with unkempt hair, beard, and tattered clothing made it difficult to be sure, but Brandt saw the same eyes as the man he remembered meeting years earlier.
“I think he tells the truth. I’m not completely sure, but he looks like Pretencia.”
Quinn gave Brandt a nod. “That’s good enough for me. Let’s get him out of here.”
She put an arm about the man and helped him to his feet. Brandt hurried to help as they half-guided and half-carried the man out of the cell.
“Grab the water from the desk,” Quinn said.
Brandt did as requested and held the pitcher to Pretencia, who drank eagerly, paused and coughed, and drank some more. Once the man was finished, Brandt replaced the pitcher on the desk.
“Who are you people?” the man asked weakly while staring at Brandt. “You look familiar.”
“We met in Kantar, sir. You know my father.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Young Talenz?”
“Yes.”
“We’re wardens,” Quinn replied. “And, we must get you out of the citadel…and out of the city.” She turned toward Brandt. “I’ll lead you to the courtyard and then you’re on your own. Once you have him safely away, you can return to your room. The servant’s quarters are never watched, so it is simply a matter of your getting back over the wall.”
“That’s all, huh? Just take the missing king to a ship without getting caught and then return over a guarded thirty-foot tall wall built upon a hilltop. Oh, and then it’s back to work at dawn, Brandt, so good luck with that as well.”
She smiled. “I have faith in you.”
“That is reassuring. Luckily, I know what to do. After all, I’ve done it before back in Kantar,” Brandt said. “How will you get back to your room without being seen?”
Quinn smiled. “Same way I got out – up the rope hanging from my window.” She pulled a metal disk from the small of her back. “If you draw the rune, I can use this to make him lighter.”
“I cannot weigh much now,” Pretencia said. “I have eaten little the past few months.”
“We need you even lighter for what I’m about to do,” Brandt said as he withdrew a wedge of coal from his pocket and began to trace a symbol on the man’s arm. When finished, he sketched the same rune on his own hand in preparation.
Quinn pressed the button on the case and a rod popped from it. “This may burn a bit, but it’s necessary.”
She touched the rod to the symbol drawn on the king’s arm. He jerked in pain, the hairs near the rod sizzled and smoked as the rune burst to life before pulsing and fading. She pushed the pin back into the trap and slid it into her pocket.
“Finished,” Quinn said. “It isn’t as powerful as a full augmentation, but it will help. Grab him and let’s get out of here.”
Doing his best to breathe through his mouth and not gag at the smell, Brandt scooped up the gaunt king. Already light, the king now seemed like an empty shell. Brandt resisted the urge to toss the man into the air.
“Let’s go,” Quinn said as she ran out the door.
With Quinn in the lead, Brandt ran down the corridor, the two retracing their steps back to the servant’s quarters and up the stairs to the main level. Rather than running through the central hall, they ducked out the side door to the western courtyard. Quinn stopped and faced Brandt in the starlight.
“When will I see you again?” Brandt asked.
“Soon. I need you to send information to the Ward.”
“Is that all you want from me?”
“Oh, stop. You know there is more between us than that.”
Brandt chuckled. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“Be safe, Brandt
. I’d be quite upset if anything bad should happen to you.”
Quinn then darted through the shrubs and faded into the shadows.
Turning toward the wall before them, Brandt considered the drop on the other side. He then looked down at the man in his arms.
“Hold on a moment. If we are to make it over the wall, I’ll need an augmentation as well.”
Brandt shut his eyes and gathered the raw Chaos surrounding him, drawing it in as if he were inhaling a storm. He opened his eyes and channeled the stored energy into the rune drawn on the back of his hand. It glowed brightly, pulsed, and faded as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. A moment later, his stomach flipped as gravity loosened its grip.
“Hold on to me tightly, You Majesty. This is going to be a bumpy ride.”
He burst forward with two long, floaty steps, and leaped, the two of them arcing high in the air. When they cleared the citadel wall, the breeze from the sea caught ahold of them, slowed their momentum, and began to push them backward as they descended. The wind drove them into the wall with Brandt’s sore back colliding into it and causing him to groan in pain. His feet then struck the top of the hillside and he rolled forward, losing his grip on the man as the two bounced and rolled down the hillside and onto the open plaza that encircled the citadel. There, they lay for a moment, staring up at the stars like a pair of drunken fools.
“Perhaps I should have used a different augmentation,” Brandt muttered.
“That was an interesting escape,” Pretencia noted.
“I’m glad you think so.” Brandt sat up and gathered the king in his arms. “If we make it to the ship alive, I do hope you’ll remember this moment fondly. It was an honest mistake.” He stood and began taking long, floating strides toward the harbor. “I may be known for my past hijinks, but this particular one was not intentional.”
With the city asleep, the trip to the western wall was quiet and uneventful. Finding the gate locked, Brandt leaped atop a second story roof near it and eyed the wall. Considering the wind, he leaped with a lower angle this time, clearing the wall by a fair distance before the wind grabbed ahold of him. He bounced off a sloped roof, rolled, slid off the side, and landed bottom-first in a narrow alley with the king on top of him. Again, the Reduce Gravity augmentation made the fall irrelevant, and he was up and off again in moments.
The Arcane Ward Page 27