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The nightmares came again, sharp and vivid. Her mother screamed until she withered into a desiccated corpse, dried lips drawn back from gleaming teeth. Again Caina fled terrified through a silent maze. Again Caina saw her father die, blood pouring from his throat upon a slab of black stone.
But that wasn’t how her father had died. She had last seen him sitting glassy-eyed in his library chair, his mind destroyed by her mother’s sorcery.
The girl in the gray dress watched her, the silver comb glittering in her dark hair. Terror filled her expression.
“Why are you afraid?” said Caina.
The girl shook her head and put her hand upon Caina’s.
The child had no fear for herself.
She was afraid for Caina.
Chapter 18 - The Trap
Caina awoke a few hours before sunset, groggy and irritable. After an hour spent practicing her unarmed forms, and a quick breakfast (or supper, given the hour), she felt much better.
She was ready.
“Are you prepared?” said Halfdan, adjusting his own mask and cloak.
Ark nodded, lifted the whetstone from his sword, and slammed the blade into its scabbard. He slung his shield over his shoulder, and picked up a quarterstaff. “They say that retribution always finds you in the end, however delayed. Well, there will be no more delays for Icaraeus, not after tonight.”
Caina nodded and checked her weapons one last time.
“That’s the spirit,” said Halfdan, voice jocular, eyes deadly serious. “Let’s go.”
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By the time they reached the docks, Ducas’s men had quietly taken over all the houses surrounding Icaraeus’s mansion. The Legionaries had overwhelmed the previous tenants easily, holding them under guard until dawn. They found six of Icaraeus’s men watching the street from the crumbling mansions, crossbows ready. The mercenaries had been overpowered and disarmed, and joined the rest of the prisoners.
Caina, Halfdan, Ark, and Radast joined Ducas and a pair of centurions on the second floor of the house nearest Icaraeus’s hideout. Radast crossed to the window and began setting up his crossbow, scrawling calculations onto the wall with a piece of chalk. Caina had to admit that Ducas cut a striking figure in his gleaming armor and crimson cloak.
“Are we ready?” said Halfdan.
“I’m going to do well out of this,” said Ducas. “My own Legion command. Maybe even an Imperial magistracy. I hear the Pale needs a new Lord Governor.”
Halfdan made an annoyed sound. “And none of that will happen if Icaraeus gets away.”
Ducas grinned. “He hasn’t shown up yet. My men have been watching the house ever since we moved into position. No one has come or gone.”
“Possibly because you scared him off,” said Halfdan.
Ducas shook his head. “No. My men captured all of Icaraeus’s watchers. The mercenaries in the mansion haven’t seen a thing.”
Caina glanced out the window. She saw fishing boats floating down the river, almost at random. Hiram’s men. Everyone was in position. The trap was set.
Now they need only wait for Icaraeus.
“How many men did you bring?” said Ark.
“One hundred and fifty,” said Ducas. “Any more and the Legate would have started asking questions. I…”
“Quiet,” said Caina.
She heard the drumming of hooves and the rattle of wagon wheels. A fine coach rolled down the street, followed by four wagons, each loaded with armed men. Caina saw the rune-carved bracers upon their forearms. The coach and the wagons halted before the mansion, the mercenaries swinging down to the street, the coach’s door opening.
Lord Naelon Icaraeus exited the coach and strode towards the mansion, hand resting on his sword hilt. He wore expensive clothes, a rich cloak, and no armor. The mercenaries followed him, a few men remaining to guard the wagons.
At last, at long last, he was within their reach.
“Now?” said Ducas, voice eager.
“Not yet,” said Halfdan. “They’re too close to the wagons. Some might get away.”
“You,” said Ducas, pointing at one of the centurions. “Find Rilnus’s squad. His orders have changed. Tell him to secure the wagons and that coach.”
The centurion banged an armored fist against his breastplate and hurried away. Caina watched the mercenaries file into the abandoned mansion. No doubt they were impatient for Tigrane to arrive.
Halfdan stared at the mansion for another few moments, and then nodded. “Now.”
Radast came to one knee. He held an intricate crossbow of Strigosti design, one that could hold two bolts drawn at once. He squeezed the first trigger, the weapon shuddering, and a ghostsilver-tipped bolt sprouted from one of the mercenaries. The man fell against the coach without a sound, smoke rising from his throat. Radast wheeled and squeezed the second trigger, and another mercenary fell dead, again without a sound.
“Go!” said Ducas.
The remaining centurion crossed to the window. “Attack, in the name of the Emperor!” he bellowed, his voice booming like a trumpet blast. “Take the mansion. Take the traitor alive. Kill the rest of them!”
With an answering roar, the Legionaries poured from the surrounding houses, armor rattling, quarterstaffs ready. Caina saw the guards atop the mansion’s roof whirl in shocked alarm, saw the mercenaries in the garden start running for the house.
“Come on,” said Caina. She raced down the stairs, Ark following. They had their own task.
Capture Icaraeus. Dead or alive, but preferably alive.
The sounds of battle filled her ears as she came to the street. Two of the Legionaries lay dead, crossbow bolts jutting from their armor. The rest stormed through the gate and into the garden, a vicious melee swirling before the mansion. The mercenaries, equipped with swords and daggers, were better armed. But Legionaries were better armored, and the mercenaries’ enspelled bracers offered no protection from the heavy blow of a wooden quarterstaff.
Caina vaulted over the garden wall, and Ark landed besides her.
“Which way?” hissed Ark.
“Follow me,” said Caina. “The window I told you about.”
Keeping low, she and Ark circled around the melee, to the side of the house. Caina rolled through the broken window and dropped into the cellar, Ark following her. She beckoned him onward, ghostsilver dagger ready, and crept up the stairs. Ark moved with better stealth than most, but she still winced at the rasp of his boots against the boards, the creak of the stairs beneath his weight. Hopefully the sound of the battle would drown out any noise they made.
She came into the house’s main hall. Icaraeus stood not twenty paces away, sword in hand. She saw the bracers upon his forearms, their runes flickering with sickly green light. Two of the mercenaries stood with him, weapons ready.
They all had their backs to the cellar stairs. Caina gestured for Ark to remain still, reversed her grip on the ghostsilver dagger, and began to creep towards them.
“Who are they?” said Icaraeus.
“Legionaries, my lord,” said one the mercenaries.
“The Legion?” snarled Icaraeus. “How the devil did they find…ah. Those Ghosts, those damnable Ghosts. I’ll have Tigrane’s head for this. Though they’ve probably killed him already.”
“My lord,” said one of the mercenaries, “we’ve got to…”
Caina straightened up, snatched the mercenary's hair, and ripped the ghostsilver dagger across his throat. The mercenary fell, choking and clawing at neck. The second mercenary whirled and charged at her with a yell. He met Ark instead. The heavy staff smashed into the man’s face. The mercenary staggered, and Ark swept his legs out from under him. The man fell with a groan, and Ark’s brought the butt of the staff onto the mercenary’s head.
There was a crunching noise, and Caina and Ark were alone with Icaraeus.
“You,” hissed Icaraeus, glaring at Caina. He backed away, sword and dagger held ready. “I remember you. You we
re the one at the White Road Inn. You have caused me a great deal of trouble.”
“Surrender,” said Caina.
Icaraeus laughed. “I think not.”
“It’s over for you,” said Caina. “One way or another, it’s over. If you want to live, throw down your weapons. Otherwise we’ll kill you where you stand.”
“Surrender?” Again Icaraeus laughed. “I have allied myself with a mighty power. One that will give me what is rightfully mine, one that will give me vengeance upon the Emperor and his servants. And you want me to surrender?”
“A mighty power?” said Caina, letting the scorn into her disguised voice. “If you think Agria and her petty tricks are a mighty power, then you’re even more deluded than we thought.”
“How little you know, Ghost,” said Icaraeus. “Pray that you die before you learn the truth…”
The sudden tightening of his eyes was Caina’s only warning. She threw herself sideways as he flung the dagger at her face. Icaraeus sprang forward with a yell, sword in both hands, and came at Ark. Ark bellowed in challenge, swinging his staff to meet Icaraeus’s attack. Icaraeus twisted, sidestepped, and brought his sword looping for Ark’s skull. Ark barely managed to get his staff up in time.
With a surge of alarm Caina realized that Ark was overmatched. He was just as strong as Icaraeus, but Icaraeus was faster, and at least ten years younger. And Icaraeus had a sword, while Ark had only a quarterstaff. Again Icaraeus struck. Ark blocked in time, but the sword struck so hard that chips flew from his staff.
Caina rolled to her feet, silver dagger in hand, and lunged at Icaraeus. He disengaged with fluid grace, launching a single thrust to knock Ark off balance. Caina slashed at him, and Icaraeus parried. He rolled his wrists, spinning the sword around, and Caina jerked back just in time to avoid getting gutted. But not in time to avoid catching Icaraeus’s elbow across the face. She staggered back, while Icaraeus spun and drove his sword in a plunging thrust for Ark’s gut. Ark swatted the blade aside with a blow from his staff, but she heard it grate along his mail coat, and saw him wince with the blow.
Caina found her feet, and Ark backed away, staff held in a guard position. Icaraeus followed, his sword point swaying and dancing like a serpent’s head. They didn’t have to kill him, or overpower him. They just had to distract him until the Legionaries could break into the mansion.
She scooped up Icaraeus’s fallen dagger with her left hand, gripping it by the blade. She caught Ark’s eye, and he nodded.
Icaraeus laughed at her. “Throw it! You know that you can’t hurt…”
Caina obliged and threw the blade into his face. As before, it left no scratch upon his skin. There was a green flash, and the dagger twisted and writhed like a leaf in flame.
But this time the green flash was right before his eyes. Icaraeus snarled and stepped back, blinking, waving his sword back and forth to ward off any threat. He didn’t see Caina step forward and stab. He jerked back, but the silver dagger tore a smoking gash across his ribs. An instant later the length of Ark’s staff caught him across the gut. Icaraeus fell back against the wall with a thump, one hand clutched to his side.
He twisted away with a snarl, sword held out before him.
“You’re going to want to take those bracers off,” said Caina. “That wound will kill you otherwise. Painfully. Like Tigrane.”
“Not that you deserve any better,” snarled Ark. The sounds of fighting outside were getting closer.
Icaraeus lifted his left hand, palm out, his lips moving. For a moment Caina thought he was asking for mercy. Then she felt the sudden tingle, saw the green light swirling around his hand, heard his voice rise to a climactic howl.
Icaraeus was casting a spell.
Caina sprang forward, dagger leading, but too late. The tingle exploded to a sudden surge, and wall of unseen force slammed into her and Ark, flinging them both across the room. Caina tucked her shoulder and rolled, slamming hard into the opposite wall. The impact didn’t break anything, but still the force of the spell knocked the breath from her lungs.
Evidently Agria had not been the only one to learn a thing or two from Jadriga.
Glass shattered, and Caina rolled to one knee. She held her dagger out, expecting an attack from Icaraeus any second. But he was gone. Through the window, no doubt.
Caina scrambled to her feet, her legs protesting the movement, and glanced down at Ark.
“Go,” coughed Ark. “Don’t let him get away.” He got to one knee, wavered, grabbed at the wall for support. “I’ll catch up to you. Go, damn it!”
Caina nodded, raced across the room, and vaulted through the window.
Icaraeus was not going to get away. Not this time.
She spotted him sprinting across the garden, racing away from the battle raging before the mansion’s front doors. Caina tore after him, weaving and dodging past the bushes and tangled roots. Icaraeus leapt over the garden wall and vanished into the street. Caina smiled to herself and followed. He was running towards the river. Well, let him run. Hiram would greet him with open arms. Caina sprang over the wall, landed in the street, and looked towards the ragged bluff falling to the river.
There was no trace of Icaraeus.
Caina blinked in surprise. He couldn’t have possibly gotten away. Had he used a spell to escape? Perhaps, but Caina would have felt a spell that potent. Surely he would not have fled towards the Legionaries. Caina spun in a circle, searching…
She saw the flap of Icaraeus’s rich cloak as he vanished into an alley. He wasn’t running towards the river, or the Legionaries, or even to the docks. He was running towards the Citadel. But that was insane. He would find himself trapped against the base of the Citadel’s high crag. Had he fled in a panic? No, he was too cool-headed for that. He was up to something.
But what?
No time to think about it now. Caina sprinted after him. He might have been faster than Ark, but Caina was faster than them both. Icaraeus cast a quick glance over his shoulder, snarling with fury. He kicked over a barrel as he ran, dirty rainwater spilling over the alley. Caina jumped over rainwater and barrel both, took three more running steps, and slammed into Icaraeus, her arms catching him around the waist.
They both went down, Icaraeus’s sword tumbling away. He clawed at her, trying to knock her free, while Caina slashed at him with the dagger. She opened another smoking gash on his right shoulder, and he screamed with fury and pain. His head came up, his forehead slamming onto her chin, and Caina fell backwards. She crashed into the brick wall, and a wave of pain and nausea went through her. Caina tried to stand, expecting Icaraeus to leap upon her.
Instead he turned and fled, throwing aside his entangling cloak. Caina staggered back to her feet, trying to keep her balance. She set herself, ready to keep after him…
And hesitated.
Even wounded, Icaraeus was too strong to fight by herself. She considered running back to get some of the Legionaries. No, that would take too long. And Icaraeus had something up his sleeve, some trick, some clever hiding place. She was sure of it.
Why else would he flee towards the Citadel’s crag?
She could try to fight him, and she would probably lose…or she could tail him. Even Tigrane hadn’t known where Icaraeus spent most of his time. If Caina could find his secret hiding place, they would have him. She could double back, retrieve the Legionaries, and they would take down Icaraeus once and for all.
Caina nodded to herself, returned the ghostsilver dagger to its sheath, and set off in pursuit.
Chapter 19 - Black Vaults
Shadowing Icaraeus proved harder than simply chasing him.
A maze of old and abandoned houses lay between Icaraeus’s hideout and the Citadel’s crag. Caina raced down alleys, hid in doorways, ducked behind barrels, threw herself into shadows. Icaraeus kept looking over his shoulder. Yet his pace slowed, his breath coming hard and hot.
Finally, as Caina his in a doorway, he stopped, turned, and began casting a spell. Ca
ina recognized the words and the gestures, and she cursed. The spell would detect the presence of other minds within a few hundred yards of its caster. Fortunately, her shadow-woven cloak was proof against mind-effecting sorcery.
Unless Icaraeus was strong enough to penetrate the cloak's protection.
She pulled the cowl tight and waited.
He finished the spell, and Caina felt the sudden tingle. Her shadow-woven cloak stirred around her, rippling as if in a sudden breeze, though the air remained still. Icaraeus remained motionless for a moment, still breathing hard.
Then he nodded to himself and walked away. Caina breathed a sigh of relief. Her cloak had baffled the spell.
Caina followed him. Keeping unseen was easier now, and she prowled after Icaraeus as he drew closer to the Citadel and Black Angel Tower drew ever closer. Icaraeus clawed at his arms as he walked, yanking the bracers free.
Evidently Icaraeus knew enough to avoid Tigrane’s fate.
At last Icaraeus reached the base of the crag. The Citadel towered overhead, its walls grim and silent, its battlements lined with war engines. Black Angel Tower loomed like a dark sword against the night. Icaraeus walked to the cliff face, and Caina frowned. Was he going to climb up? Did he have allies within the Citadel?
Something shiny appeared in Icaraeus’s hand. He thrust it against the rock, and a doorway-sized section of stone opened aside without a sound. Caina glimpsed stone steps vanishing into the darkness. Hidden passages below the Citadel? She had never heard of them, and Halfdan had never mentioned them. If Icaraeus had indeed discovered some long-forgotten catacombs beneath the Citadel, they would make a perfect hiding place.
Icaraeus strode into the passage, and the stone door swung shut behind him.
Caina ran the remaining distance. She scrutinized the spot where the door had been. It was perfect – no lines, no cracks in the stone. It looked like any other weather-worn cliff face. Wait…a glitter of metal in the stone.
A keyhole.
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