“And what building are we interested in?” queried Hicks staring at Hoyle intently. There seemed to be some underlying tension that Celia was noticing, but unable to determine the source.
“Why the Goralon Merchant’s Guild, of course!” replied the smirking man. “Apparently they have Celia’s, my apologies, the embassy’s, stolen trinkets, as well as the money they owe me for some work I did for them.”
“I see,” said Salrissa, looking at Celia coldly, “and why do you feel that they have your trinkets?”
“Dar'Shilaar do not use trinkets,” Celia replied indignantly. “I placed a trace spell on the items in question. It led me to the Goralon tower on Merchant’s Square,” she admitted more firmly than she felt. Her pulse was pounding, and her breath was shallow as she sat on the edge of her seat, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She gripped her amulet through the thick fabric of her robes, its familiar presence calming her only very slightly.
“Needless to say, we need to help her get into the tower and retrieve her items,” stated Hoyle with the most serious expression she had seen on his face in the short time since she had met him. “Along with my gold.” He added, looking pointedly at Salrissa and Hicks.
The table was quiet as a serving woman brought two mugs of a brown, cloudy liquid, and two plates of stew slathered over a thick piece of bread. Celia hadn’t noticed who had ordered, but was thankful as she realized just how hungry she was. Sampling her meal daintily, she took a bite of bread soaked in warm stew, careful not to spill any on her robes, and felt the warmth spread throughout her body. Once the serving woman was gone, no one spoke immediately.
“So what is the plan?” asked Salrissa finally.
Chapter 5
Hoyle watched Celia carefully as the three of them waited on the side of the Merchant’s Square. She still gripped her necklace or brooch under her robes with one hand while holding her cloak tight against the bitter wind with her other. He could see her brown, fawn-like eyes widen at every noise. To say she was not comfortable was an understatement; it appeared to him that she had never been out in the Imperial City at night, or any city for that matter. Thankfully, her deep burgundy robes and cloak appeared black in the night, and had allowed them to hide in the deep shadows as several City Guard squads passed them in the night. During the day, the City Guard had some modicum of professional restraint, but at night they had been given free rein to do as they pleased.
The third of their group was Salrissa, now wearing her full black leather armor, which covered her head to toe, including a faceplate that left only her piercing blue eyes and a small portion of her forehead exposed. She walked through the shadows like she owned them, like they were her obedient servants. Hoyle liked to think she had feelings for him, but he was under no illusions. Their time together was a release for her, and nothing more. Her emotions were buried deep. But he was glad she had come.
Hoyle thought back to when they had retreated to his room in the Red Rooster Inn after their meal to make plans. Celia had been wary and nervous, even with her eyelids drooping, and moved a stool over to sit by the room’s only door.
“We’re going to have to try and use stealth to get in, which shouldn’t be too much problem for some of us,” Hoyle began.
“Um – we?” queried Hicks “I don’t think so Hoyle.”
“Why not, you’re fair with a sword. Only as backup mind you.”
“You and Salrissa may work at night, but I have a day job, and the days start when the rooster crows, whether I like it or not.” Hicks stated. “I’m out.”
He looked at Salrissa, who turned from looking out the window and shrugged, “I need the exercise,” was all she said before turning to once again look out the small window.
“There must be some other way...” Celia stammered. “Can’t we go to the City Guard and have them arrested? I mean, if they did steal the items.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye, still gripping whatever necklace she wore beneath her robes. He could tell she might be a bit naive and inexperienced, but she was far from stupid. Even though neither had mentioned it since the encounter in the alley, Hoyle couldn’t believe how quick she had put the pieces of the truth together from so little information. He fingered his earring while he thought.
“The Goralon Merchant’s Guild, as well as their embassy over in the government quarter, are effectively Goralon soil by treaty. If the City Guard so much as went onto the property without being invited, it could provoke war with Goralon. Or at least have them pack up and halt trade with the Empire,” Salrissa concluded quietly. She still had not turned from the window.
“How would they know?” Celia questioned.
“The mirrors,” was all Salrissa replied.
“Magemirrors? But they were created to help people,” Celia protested. "Besides, we prefer the name felia'shilaar..." she said the last under her breath.
“Best intentions...” Salrissa trailed off, her back still to the room.
“I’m not sure what you mean...”
“Did you flaming wizards," she threw the word out as a curse, "ever consider what might happen if the Emperor got a hold of these trinkets of yours? Did you ever think how much power the Empire would wield with these mirrors, and gates, and skyships? And then your precious Dar'Shilaar went and just handed it all over to our dear 'benevolent' Emperor Randramas.”
Hoyle watched the exchange quietly, noting that Hicks was staying out of it also. He could sense a deep resentment from Salrissa, but of course, didn’t know why. Another fact to remember, he thought.
“We needed a place of safety...” Celia whispered. She could vaguely recall the words from one of the historical manuscripts she had studied in Mahad’avor;
Our survival requires us to come to compromise with the lesser of two evils. May our children forgive us if we choose wrong, for into those hands we will hand over the ability to stabilize, and possibly conquer the Continent of Kaladahn. For better or for worse, only the future will tell.
“How safe do you feel now?” The question, with no emotion, looked like it stung Celia somewhat. Celia let in hang in the air, unanswered.
---o---
Now they were standing tight against a building, using it as shelter from the wind, while watching the tower across the square. Two soldiers were now out front, holding their cloaks against the wind with one hand, while resting the other on the pommels of their swords. The windows were still all shuttered, but light peaked around a few shutters on the lower two floors. The top floor was dark.
“Let’s stick with the plan, and only enter the tower if necessary.” Hoyle said. “Salrissa, I will need your pouch for this to work.”
Salrissa handed over a small black pouch, ornamented with a very small shard of a black magestone; she gave a quick nod and vanished into the shadows with a single stride. Celia jumped slightly in surprise, turning her head side-to-side. She seemed shaken yet again.
“Why don’t you wait here?” Hoyle asked.
“Then what guarantee do I have that you will retrieve my items?”
“Nothing other than my word”
“Yes, well then I’m coming,” Celia stated. Apparently trust was still an issue.
“Fine, stay close, and stay quiet,” Hoyle directed and moved out from the shadows and across the square towards the alley near the tower. As fast as he moved, Celia stayed within three paces of him, and was fairly quiet considering she wasn’t in the business. Staying in the shadows, Hoyle worked his way to the carriage gate to the side of the tower and tapped softly twice.
After a short wait, the gates opened a crack, and piercing blue eyes looked out from the shadows. Salrissa stepped back and let the two of them into the stable yard. Hoyle looked around, surveying the yard. To the right of the gate was the carriage house and stable, further into the yard looked to be warehouses. The tower windows on this side were also barred and shuttered, with light peeking out from a few. He proceeded to the carriage house, lingering outside as he
listened for guards, but he could not hear any, so he stepped inside.
The interior was almost black as pitch, but he could see the darker shadow that was the carriage. He moved towards it in the dark, stopping briefly as he heard a noise further back. Listening he could hear the chuffing of horses breathing in the deeper darkness, so he continued to the rear of the carriage. Opening the rear hatch, he confirmed that the chest with his gold was not there. It was worth a shot he thought, fingering the small key he still had in his pocket from that morning.
“Rounds!” Salrissa warned with a whisper from near the open doorway, as she and Celia moved into the shadows within the carriage house and pressed their backs against the wall. Hoyle kept one hand on the pommel of his sword, and ducked down behind the carriage wheel in the dark.
A silhouette moved in front of the open doorway, backlit by the meager light from the tower windows. He turned his head side to side, a small glow giving his scarred face a reddish cast. Hoyle could smell the strong cigar from where he was hiding, more than eight paces away. The soldier turned and walked to the gate that Salrissa had closed behind them, checked it, and moved toward the back of the tower in no particular hurry.
Salrissa and Celia moved over towards him, Salrissa gliding through the shadows as if she could see through them, Celia stumbling over some uneven floor, nearly falling. “Well?” Salrissa inquired quietly.
“It’s not here, so we’ll have to get into the tower.” He responded.
“By it, you mean the chest or pouch containing the items, I assume?” retorted Celia. By the tilt of her head she was trying to see Hoyle’s face, but he suspected that there was not enough light for a good look.
“Yes, that among other things,” was his reply.
“Wait here,” directed Salrissa as she vanished through the doorway and into the shadows.
Hoyle counted. It was just habit while he was waiting. It was part of his rule “It is better to be careful than dead.” Nothing he could think of could take more than a one hundred count that hadn’t gone wrong. He had yet to be proven wrong, so that became a part of his rule. If he got to a one hundred count before Salrissa returned, that would be his cue to bolt. In the past, he had only ever reached eighty-nine seconds whenever Salrissa had told him to wait. Tonight was no exception, reaching only a sixty-three count before she returned.
“Follow me,” she said, and turned back the way she had come.
Hoyle and Celia carefully made their way out of the dark carriage house and followed Salrissa’s dark shape to the back corner of the tower and around. The area by the back tower entrance was dark, but Hoyle could still smell the acrid smoke of the torches. The entire yard was dark, but he could see the darker silhouettes of the warehouses about twenty paces across the yard. He saw a lumpy pile off to one side of the steps to the door, and distracted Celia from what must be the soldier’s bodies. Whether Salrissa left guards alive or not was always uncertain, probably depending on whether she took them by surprise or not.
“Shouldn’t there be guards?” asked Celia, looking around.
Ignoring Celia, he turned to the door, bent down and retrieved his “lock resetting” hardware from a small hidden pocket inside his boot. Within seconds he had the door unlocked. He pushed it open as quietly as he could manage, peeking into what appeared to be a well lit hallway. Seeing no one, he opened the door all the way and led the two women into the hall. “Can you do something about this light?”
Salrissa swung her arm with her cloak over it, similar to a bird’s wing, or maybe a bat’s, and the candles for the closest half of the hallway went out in the small, but deceptively powerful gust of wind. “Better?” she asked quietly with an arched eyebrow.
Hoyle nodded absently and quickly took stock of the area. The hallway ran straight through the tower to a door at the other end which no doubt opened to the stoop, containing the two soldiers guarding the front of the tower. On one side, about halfway down, a stair rose to the upper floors. They could smell delicious aromas from the door to their immediate right, most likely the kitchen, and loud voices could be heard from a door on the left, across from the base of the stairs.
He moved quickly and quietly down the hall and peaked up the stairs to ensure it was clear. Noting that it was, he began to climb the steps, the ladies following. He was pretty sure whatever items of value were held in the tower would be as far from street level as possible, which meant the third floor. It was also most likely that any high ranking guests would have quarters on the upper-most floor, away from the day-to-day business of the guild. That being said, Goralonians were an odd bunch, zealously worshipping the death and battle aspects of Voral the Father, or Benraw the Twin: war, destruction, strength, chaos. At least, those were some of the rumors he had heard growing up in a small village near the border of Goralon.
Cresting the first run of stairs, he came face-to-face with a statue of Voral’s death aspect; a muscular male form, wearing a knee length torva with the head of a flaming skull. The statue was in a small alcove facing the stairs, and was probably meant as a warning for someone like him. He ignored it, listening for noise from the doors along the length of the hallway beside the stairs. A second flight of stairs was obvious at the other end of the hall, superimposed over the ones they had just come up. The hallway was much darker on this floor, so he could see that some of the rooms were obviously occupied based on the light coming under the doors, but could hear no obvious sounds from the occupants.
“Where are we going?” Celia whispered tentatively.
“Top floor.” Hoyle whispered in reply.
“Why?”
“That’s always where the good stuff is,” he replied. “Always."
"Not always..." Celia said under her breath resentfully. The vault she had put the quafa'shilaar in was underground.
Salrissa slid past them at the top of the stairs with a look, and swiftly moved down the hallway, briefly listening at each door she passed. Hoyle followed her to the base of the next flight of stairs and up.
As the trio reached the top floor, they began to hear shouting from outside the tower. They rounded the banister and looked along the hall, seeing two doors at the near end and two at the far end. Hoyle could see flickering, multi-hued light from under one of the doors at the far end of the hall, so he moved in that direction. As they reached the mid-point in the hall, with a wall to one side, and the waist-high banister along the stairs to the other, they heard a loud crash from below. Almost immediately, shouting and the ringing sounds of swords clashing echoed up from below. Then the unholy screaming began.
---o---
What is happening? thought Hoyle as he was forced to cover his ears. He watched the door with the flickering light, but nothing seemed to change. However, a door from behind them burst open, revealing a large form cursing as he pushed his way through while settling his armor. The man looked up and met Hoyle’s eyes. “You!” he exclaimed, and drew his sword, almost ignoring the two women with him. He glanced down the stairs toward the screaming, and then advanced toward the trio, his eyes not leaving Hoyle’s.
“Where’s my money Brows?” he demanded.
“And the quafa'shilaar - the magestones,” Celia added with a squeak, as she stepped behind Hoyle.
“And the magestones?” he continued smoothly.
“What will you need with any of that, since you’ll be dead in a minute anyway?” taunted Brows with a sneer. He swung his broadsword in lazy loops in front of him as he closed the distance.
“You got this Salrissa?” Hoyle asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes.”
“Hey Brows, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine. Please meet Salrissa, a member of the Sisters Kass,” Hoyle swept his arm toward Salrissa with a bow and a flourish as she stepped between him and the larger man with a questioning eyebrow for Hoyle. She hadn’t known that he knew she was a former Sister.
Hoyle saw a brief flicker of doubt, or possibly
fear, on Brows’ face, as Salrissa pulled out a double-edged knife in each hand and took a relaxed fighter’s stance in the narrow hallway. He moved towards the door at the end of the hallway, pushing Celia in front of him, as the sounds of steel hitting steel began behind him. The screaming from below dropped to a lull, and they could hear the sounds of soldiers moving through the lower floor, and coming up the first flight of stairs to the second floor below.
Hoyle tried the door, even though he knew it would be locked. It was worth a try. He dropped to one knee and retrieved his lock picks from his boot and made short work of the lock. He could tell without looking back that Salrissa was easily holding her own, hearing the clangs of weaponry ebb and flow up and down the narrow hallway behind him. By Celia’s flinches and gasps, he could sense when one of the combatants got close to wounding the other. Turning the handle, and cracking the door open slightly, he peered into the scintillating light of the darker room.
Stepping into the room with Celia following close behind, Hoyle saw a disturbing sight. At the far end of the dark room, was the pulsing light, coming from a small altar to Voral. He could tell there was some sort of runes drawn in blood around the skull-headed figurine of the god. A tall, thin, robed figure rose from his knees and turned. It was Whisper. He was wearing some sort of thin, metal circlet on his brow that held a glowing magestone. Runes of glowing blood covered his cheeks and forehead, with the blood running down over the magestone.
Celia pushed past him, “Where are the rest of the quafa'shilaar?!” she demanded.
“You are in no position to make demands, silly girl.” Whisper responded quietly, but fiercely, his gaze on Hoyle.
“Oh, but I am. Cravash!” Celia intoned, pointing her rigid fingers at the robed man. Small marbles of light coalesced quickly at the ends of her fingers and shot towards her target.
Hoyle watched as Whisper countered with a spell of his own, mouthing the words to the spell quietly. He waved his hand in an arc in front of him, which trailed a wide swath of shadow that hung in the air. The glowing orbs hit the shadow and vanished – like candles being snuffed out. Celia stood with a stunned look on her face, but recovered quickly, beginning to chant the words to another spell.
Stones Unbound (The Magestone Chronicles Book 1) Page 4