by Ben Hale
Sparks came from the hole and then it went silent. Reminding himself to thank Beauty for the gorgon key, Jack eased the door open and withdrew the master key, reshaping it back into the innocuous knife. He slipped inside—and came face to face with a black reaver. He froze, but Val’Trisian chuckled as she strode past him.
“It’s not real,” she said. “Captain Sinder worships the black reaver he guards.”
His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he made out the reaver’s bulk. Although the likeness was flawless, it was just a statue. Then he spotted the walls and their decorations. Enchanted etchings prowled the walls, all of black reavers and dragons.
“Obsessed much?” Jack asked.
“There is a reason he has no wife.”
He stifled a laugh and moved to the opposite side of the room. Putting his ear to the door, he listened for guards in the halls. Val’Trisian had informed them that Captain Sinder used the bulk of his wealth on his home, reserving enough to hire a score of sentries.
Jack heard the faint footfalls but they were receding. Once they were gone, Jack eased the door open and stepped into the hall. When it proved empty he gestured to her.
“Care to lead the way?”
She grinned and took the lead. “Watch my back.”
“I intend to,” his said, his eyes on her curvaceous form.
She laughed lightly and darted down the hall. She may have been a noble, but she moved like a wraith, silent and swift. She glided through the corridors of Captain Sinder’s home without fear or hesitation. Then they turned a corner and a guard stepped out of a room. Shocked, he yanked his sword free.
Val’Trisian was faster. She drew her own blade and obliterated his defenses. When his sword tumbled to the floor she struck him in the gut with her free hand. He doubled over and she brought her knee into his face, sending him to the floor.
“Do all reigns fight like that?”
She sheathed her sword. “Not many,” she admitted with a smile.
They pulled the guard back into the room and left him bound. Then they advanced into the home until they reached the collection. The door was unlocked and Val’Trisian eased it open, shutting it behind them. She touched the rune on the side of the room and the lights brightened.
Weapons filled the room, lining every wall, the ceiling, and the inside of hundreds of displays. The collection could have armed the Talinorian cavalry with weapons to spare. Every type of blade, staff, and instrument of death was visible, many bearing enchantments that depicted dragons and reavers.
“I don’t think I care for the captain,” Jack said.
“No one does,” she said. “But his father had connections and helped him gain the rank and wealth.”
Jack felt the urge to destroy it all but turned to her. “Where’s the knife?”
She picked her way through the collection to the far wall, where an assortment of knives lay hilt to hilt. He spotted the key to the Eternal vault and checked it for curses. Evidently it wasn’t one of Sinder’s more valued items as no curses were attached. He picked it up and slid it into an empty sheath on his chest.
“That’s it?” Val’Trisian asked, and sighed. “I hoped for more.”
Jack spotted an asunder blade, the edge enchanted to sever steel. An idea crossed his mind and he turned to her. “Just how much damage would you like to do?”
She gestured to the horde of weaponry. “As much as I’d like to, we can’t possibly destroy it. The more valuable are protected by magic that would stop even a dragon’s fire.”
Jack reached for the asunder blade and lifted it down from the wall. “What about the acid breath of a black dragon?”
She caught what he was insinuating and her eyes lit with mischief. “You want to use his dragon like a weapon.”
“Of course,” he said, and handed her the sword. “I’ll hold the door for you.”
She grinned and they exited the collection—to find a dozen soldiers rushing toward them. Dressed in armor and helm, they were backed by an unarmored dark elf. Shorter than the rest, the dark elf was still in his nightclothes, which bore images of dragons and reavers.
Jack burst into a laugh when he realized it was Captain Sinder. “Do your undergarments also have reavers on them?” he asked.
Captain Sinder flushed. “Do not kill them,” he barked. “I want time to punish them.”
The dark elves charged and Jack pulled his dagger and crossbow, darting down the hall. Val’Trisian took the lead, her blade streaking in a pattern of defense that overwhelmed the lead guards. They cried out in dismay when their blades tumbled from their fingers.
Jack slipped around Val’Trisian and fired his crossbow at their feet, freezing them to the floor with a frost bolt. They cried out and fell awkwardly, unable to move their boots. Jack leapt over them and engaged the next one with his dagger. Working in tandem, Jack and Val’Trisian decimated the guards. Then one guard managed to evade Val’Trisian and came for Jack.
Jack aimed his crossbow but the guard ducked, driving for Jack’s chest. Jack just managed to rotate, the sword impaling his shadow. Then he felt a tug on his tunic and looked down to see the guard’s free hand grasping the Eternal key.
Jack’s eyes widened in surprise but his shock cost him, and the guard grasped his arm, spinning around and placing the key at his throat. Val’Trisian looked back and saw Jack pinned. She parried two thrusts and leapt forward but Jack raised his hand.
“Don’t,” Jack said. “He’s not a guard.”
She ignored him and darted in. The guard withdrew a glowing shackle from his belt and clamped it over Jack’s hand. It yanked Jack to the floor and sank into the stone, fusing to the floor. Then he pulled off his helmet to reveal his identity.
Gallow.
The assassin smirked at Jack before turning, catching Val’Trisian’s blade on his own. He leaned into a kick that sent her tumbling down the corridor. She rose and came again but soldiers filled the gap, charging at her. Her motions became desperate as she gave up ground.
“Jack!” she called.
“Go!” he shouted.
“I’m not leaving you behind!”
Jack pulled against the bindings but they would not budge. Gallow turned away from the dark elves swarming Val’Trisian and strode toward Jack. Through the press of bodies he met Val’Trisian’s gaze and knew she would not leave.
“Trust me,” he said, his voice somehow piercing the clash of blades. “Go.”
Indecision twisted her features and turned into a scowl. Then she leapt over a downed elf and darted down a side corridor. Half the remaining guards raced after her while Sinder pushed his way through to Jack.
“Well done,” he said Gallow.
Gallow knelt and pulled the second Eternal key from the sheath on Jack’s chest. “I was told not to kill you,” he said, his voice dripping with hatred. “But if I leave you here I won’t have to. They will kill you for me.”
As the other guards swarmed Jack Gallow slipped through the crowd, disappearing with a smug grin on his face. Alone and surrounded by elven guards, Jack was bound and dragged before Sinder. The diminutive elf straightened as if it would make him more impressive and his expression turned haughty.
“A thousand soldiers have been summoned and stand outside my gates. They will find your friends.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He frowned at Jack’s tone and gestured for him to speak.
“Did you steal a child’s nightclothes?”
Shock rippled through the guards and several smothered laughter. Then Sinder recovered and his face turned red. Without a word he stepped in and struck Jack. In spite of his size the punch knocked Jack to the ground. He laughed anyway, and Sinder struck him again. Then everything went dark.
Chapter 26: The Pit
The guards pushed Jack into a cell and slammed the bars shut before departing. He rose to his feet and looked around, surprised by the lighting. He’d expected a cell covered in dirt and infested
with rats. Instead the room was clean and well lit, containing a bed and even a privy adjacent to the cell.
Nary a crack marred the ceiling, walls, or floor. He was quick to test the bars and walls but found no hint of egress. Then he came to a rune on the back wall. Curious, he reached out and touched it—and a door swung open.
“This is new,” he said, poking his head out the back of the cell.
He stepped into a hallway and looked both ways. In either direction were matching doors leading to other cells. The hall was empty, so he followed the curving corridor until he reached a spiral staircase. The stairs extended from the ceiling of a large common area, and a giant platform came into view.
Hanging beneath the spine, the circular platform was hundreds of feet across. Dozens of staircases dotted the platform, providing a route for prisoners to move between the common area and their cells.
Criminals lounged about, with most playing cards, dice, or bones. He spotted a pair staring at a board game, and nearby a group trained for combat. Although dark elves dominated the populace, a smattering of surface races were also present, including a trio of surly elves talking in low tones.
The platform lacked walls or railing, so the edge of the platform dropped straight into the Well of Shadow. A fifty-foot illusion shimmered faintly, indicating that the prison was not visible from the outside. The shield likely ensured that the citizens of Elsurund did not have to see the prisoners at the base of the city.
Jack descended to the surface of the platform and strode to the edge, peering into the depths of the Well. The proximity to the illusion wall allowed him to feel a spark of power, and realized it prevented criminals from attempting to climb out. Then he heard a pair of footsteps approaching and whirled, causing a dark elf to jump in surprise.
“I was going to warn you about standing at the edge,” she said. “Criminals have been known to fall.”
“Or be pushed.”
She grinned at that. “The durans occasionally throw someone off to maintain fear.”
“Durans?”
“They are the ones sentenced for life.”
She jerked a thumb at a group of dark elves gathered in the center of the platform. Burly and covered in white tattoos, the group formed an invisible epicenter among the criminals. Jack noticed the further one sat from the durans, the more solitary and furtive the prisoners appeared.
“The guards let you murder each other?”
She looked up at the ceiling. Jack followed her gaze to see a trio of guardhouses hanging from the ceiling high above. Silver Guard and dark elves looked down from within the bowl-shaped rooms. Large crossbows were mounted on the sides with the weapons pointing at prisoners.
“If they see a crime they will kill the offender, but the durans are subtle enough not to get caught.”
“Who are you?”
“Amala.”
“Jack. What crime did you commit?”
She smirked and gestured to the fortress. “I tried to steal from a warden.”
“A fellow thief?” Jack grinned. “How intriguing.”
“Are you from the surface guild?” she asked.
“Only thing I’m guilty of,” he said. “After you get out you should visit the Thieves Guild on the surface.”
“I may take you up on that,” she said. “And if I’d known there were men as attractive as you, I’d have visited decades ago.”
He laughed lightly, drawing the attention of the nearby surface elves. “Have you ever met a member of the surface guild?” he asked Amala.
She pointed to the pair of humans playing the board game. “Actually we have one of your guild here.”
Jack peered into the distance until he spotted him, and his eyes narrowed. As if sensing the weight of his gaze the man looked up. Anger flared across his features and he rose to his feet. Then he strode across the platform to Jack.
“You,” he growled.
“Nemeth,” Jack said coolly. “I’m sorry to say it, but you look well.”
Tall and strong, the man looked very little like the thief Jack had betrayed a year ago. Gone were his limp and gut, and in its place were layers of muscle. With a shaved head and a skull tattoo on the bald surface, he looked more like a brute than the devious former thief.
“It appears you know each other,” Amala said, retreating from the budding tension.
“He killed my mother,” Jack said.
“And he sent me here to rot,” Nemeth said with a sneer.
“You deserved it.”
Nemeth stepped closer but Jack twisted to the side so the edge of the platform was no longer at his back. Nemeth rotated with him and stabbed a finger into Jack’s chest.
“I’ve spent a year preparing to face the Allegian Trial—all so I can come back and kill you.”
“You should leave revenge to me.” Jack sniffed in disdain. “I’m better at it.”
“You were always so arrogant,” Nemeth sneered.
“And you were always so stupid,” Jack said. “You had no idea who you were serving. All you cared about was the coin.”
Nemeth’s features tightened at the mention of Skorn. “I knew to fear him, which is more than you can say.”
Jack laughed, the sound low and mocking. “Do you even know when you lost your spine? Or did you ever have one in the first place?”
Nemeth regarded him with rage simmering across his features, but he held it in check. “I should thank you,” Nemeth said. “I’d grown soft in my retirement from the guild. Down here the elves healed my limp, and because of you I had the motivation to survive. I’ve regained my courage to kill.”
“Thief or killer, you’ll always be a pawn.”
“You won’t last a week, Jack. I swear it on my mother’s grave.”
“Don’t swear on a woman who’s disappointed in you.”
Nemeth’s eyes widened in fury and he reared back to strike, but a column of silver flowed between them. It dropped to the ground and shaped into the figure of a man facing both directions. The two faces stared at Jack and Nemeth as two hands raised liquid swords to each of them.
Nemeth scowled and leaned to see past the Silver Guard. “I have no need to complete the trial, now. Enjoy your final hours, Jack.”
He turned and strode away, and a moment later the silver figure turned into a thread of liquid and flowed back to its perch. Amala took its place and sighed.
“You’re lucky it didn’t kill you both.”
“Luck has always been a friend of mine.”
She smirked at that. “If that were true you wouldn’t be in the Pit.”
“Even friends betray us sometimes.”
She grunted in agreement. “Lucky or not, I’d suggest you find yourself a weapon. Nemeth is as dangerous as the durans. He’ll make good on his threat.”
“Not if I get out first.”
“You can’t,” she said. “Not from here.”
“What about the Allegian Trial he mentioned?”
Her gaze remained on Nemeth’s back. “It’s a test to prove your integrity.”
“That doesn’t sound difficult.”
She smirked and faced him. “You go into an arena and face a black reaver. If you survive, your loyalty to the dark elves is proven, and you walk free.”
“How many have survived?”
“One, and he was a prince.”
The flat answer caused Jack to raise an eyebrow. “Black reavers aren’t invincible.”
“They are when they get a taste of your blood,” she replied. “And they give your blood to the beast before the conflict.”
“So it’s a death sentence,” Jack said.
“Of course it is. Yet every six months a handful of criminals make the attempt. For durans it’s the only way out of the prison, and the potential prestige of being the first criminal to triumph outweighs the risk.”
“When is the trial?”
“Four days,” she said, and then her expression turned incredulous. “You’re not thinki
ng of entering, are you?”
“Perhaps,” he replied. “I like a challenge.”
“It would be a pity to lose that face of yours,” she said. “But it’s your life to lose.”
“And you?” Jack asked with a smile. “Ever thought of attempting the trial?”
She laughed lightly and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I actually like breathing. Besides, I only have another few months left on my sentence.”
Jack smirked. “Has anyone escaped the prison?”
“A handful,” she replied, “but more often than not the effort costs them their lives. Either they fall into the Well of Shadow or they’re killed by the Silver Guard. The few to accomplish it do so with help—but I doubt you have time to develop a plan.”
“What makes you say that?”
Her eyes flicked to the side, and Jack spotted Nemeth talking with the durans. He stared at Jack with abject hatred, as did the muscled dark elf at his side. There was no mistaking the look of murder in their eyes.
“Looks like he wants to kill me before the trial,” Jack said.
There was no response, and when he looked Amala was gone. He spotted her slipping into a group of prisoners a short distance away. She flashed him an apologetic look and then turned away, making it clear they were not friends.
He grunted in irritation. Having an ally would have been invaluable within the prison, but Amala obviously had no desire to go up against the durans. Those close enough to overhear the conversation also drifted away, leaving him alone.
But could his friends reach him before Nemeth did? And even with them, would an attempt get them caught? Or killed? He’d been in numerous prisons before but never one watched by Silver Guard, or placed above an endless pit.
Normally he would dismiss Nemeth as an empty threat, but the hatred in his eyes was sufficient to instill caution. Jack was in a foreign prison without tools, allies, or a means of escape. He’d be a fool to disregard the danger he was in.
A glimmer of light drew his attention, and he turned to find a spider of blue light climbing over the edge. On impulse he strode to it. He stooped and peered into the Well of Shadow, using the motion to hide picking up the spider.