Starwatch

by Ian Blackport

  Maylene found herself oddly impressed by the girl’s strengthened resolve, and did not feel the comment warranted a harsh rebuke. “Wishing doesn’t make the sentiment true. Though you can cheer for my demise if it makes you feel better. You wouldn’t be the first.”

  She crouched and loosened rope binding Aryll to the rail. An ungentle heave brought the girl onto shaky feet and sent her stumbling up stairs. Pitted grooves in the floor indicated where the burning substance had fallen, though Aryll’s eyes could not be torn away from a jagged hole seared through the stone ceiling. Walls and wooden furnishings were barely visible in the gloom above, with one chair leg perched precariously over the edge.

  “By the gods,” Aryll uttered. “What…what did this?”

  “A nice surprise for your compatriots’ arrogant minds,” Maylene answered, allowing warranted arrogance to creep into her voice. “Let them struggle to comprehend how boorish thieves achieved the impossible.”

  Maylene cupped both hands atop a thigh and braced herself against one wall while Zalla hitched the lantern to her belt. Tightening ropes slung over one shoulder, Zalla lifted a boot and Maylene shoved her toward the ceiling. Zalla clutched at rough stonework, heaving her forearms and chest into the chamber above. Slender legs dangled until she managed to swing one over and climb beyond sight. She scrambled around and lowered an arm through the gaping hole.

  “You next,” Maylene declared.

  Aryll stared with unhidden loathing. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Climb up or I’ll drag you backward by the ankles. It’ll be a much less pleasant experience.”

  “You don’t have the time for that.”

  “I’ll make time.” Maylene grasped her collar and tugged the pint-sized galen closer. “Don’t test me, girl.”

  Aryll countered with a scowl but obediently stepped into Maylene’s awaiting palms, raising hands bound at the wrist for Zalla. The young student scrabbled against a stone wall until Zalla succeeded in hauling her over the melted ledge.

  Maylene stepped back and lifted her gaze to where Zalla perched. Shrugging the haversack off a shoulder, Maylene threw it into her accomplice’s arms. “Tie the slipped constrictor hitch like I showed you, drop it through the hole and then get our gear in place.”

  Panic flitted across her anxious features. “You aren’t coming?”

  “Not yet,” Maylene answered. “I need to buy us some time first. Almar and his goons showed faster than I’d hoped. Thankfully we anticipated there might be a need for delaying tactics. I’ll be right behind you though. Remember, don’t cinch the knot too tightly or I won’t be able to release it.”

  “Be careful,” Zalla said. “Don’t leave me waiting for long.”

  “Count on it.”

  Maylene jogged down steps scarcely illumined by a solitary torch and positioned herself facing the entry. Hands clenched at her sides, she planted both moccasins and prepared to pose as a daunting figure. Until seconds turned to minutes and the door refused to budge.

  Hacking through dense wood by hand was evidently a tedious chore, and Maylene considered finding a place to sit while it crawled to fruition. Instead she cracked knuckles caked in dry blood and stretched cramping muscles in her legs. A respite was always appreciated.

  Splinters ejected as iron chewed through, revealing axe heads burrowed within carvings. Light peeked beyond serrated hollows when curved weapons were dislodged to unleash further strikes. Maylene lifted a hand, picking beneath one fingernail crusted in grime. Finally the locking mechanism buckled against an unrelenting onslaught and crumpled into warped metal. She straightened her shoulders and assumed a stoic visage as doors crashed inward, revealing hunched guards lathered in sweat and gulping deep breaths.

  Faces stared in mingled confusion and fury when they sighted her standing alone with empty hands. One sentry strode through and tossed his axe aside, unsheathing a longsword instead. Others followed suit and Maylene found herself staring at a cordon of surly, aggravated brutes wielding blades.

  The Captain of the Starwatch Guard crunched one boot down amid wooden shards, his trembling hands balled into fists. “You.”

  Maylene lifted a palm and waved. “Hello Almar. Nice to see you again.”

  “I suspected you might be complicit in this scheme when you failed to arrive earlier.”

  “Don’t take it personally. I had more pressing matters to pursue.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “What others?”

  Frustration slipped through Almar’s otherwise composed features. “You don’t actually believe this is a viable plan, do you?”

  “Why not? It’s all gone well for me thus far.”

  “Even surrounded by a host of guards in the heart of Starwatch, with nary an exit in sight?”

  “I contemplated the possibility and decided it wasn’t liable to vex me.”

  One female guard snickered, though Maylene could not tell if she found the response witty or merely thought this burglar was insane and worth derision. To an outsider unfamiliar with her record, there was every reason to assume the latter. Maylene might even have joined in, if she stood on the opposite side.

  “I’m troubled,” Almar conceded.

  “Sorry to hear that. About what?”

  “Whether to pity your stupidity or bravery more.”

  “That continues to presume the traits should garner ridicule,” noted Maylene. “I’ve seen both come in handy depending on the scenario.”

  “I’m growing weary of this idle banter.”

  “Not me. Discourse only serves to further help my cause.”

  Almar grumbled and let his shoulders fall, assuming the guise of a man who genuinely seemed eager to avoid confrontation. “Don’t be an idiot, lass. Surrender to our care. You can’t escape from us.”

  “I’ve based an entire career on the assumption there’s always a way out. I haven’t been proven wrong yet.”

  “Today seems a likely candidate.”

  “In your narrow and unimaginative mind perhaps.”

  “There’s only one exit from this chamber, and we’re standing between you and it.”

  “Are there no others?” Maylene tapped her chin in mock contemplation. “Hmm, maybe I planned this jaunt poorly. I wish I’d put more thought into my caper.”

  “Your game is finished. End this now and no one needs to be hurt.”

  “I still have a trick poised up my sleeve. But before we lay all our cards on the table, I have one tidbit to share. Galen Vanrir is bound and gagged somewhere on this floor.” She smirked and touched one forefinger to her temple. “You’ll want to remember that, since it’ll soon be imperative for your lapdogs to track him down and untie the cantankerous geezer.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because the way I see it, Captain,” Maylene said, “you have a choice.”

  “Do I? And what might that choice be?”

  “Recover one rare artifact in my possession.”

  Almar grinned and cocked his head. “Or?”

  “Save thousands.”

  Maylene seized her lantern from the floor, ripped its cloth hood free and smashed rippled glass against one shelf while Almar stared in helpless horror. Incandescent flames spurted over dry parchment and belched churning black smoke, obscuring windows and hazing ruddy torchlight.

  “Chase me or save your precious library and an old fogey!” she hollered. “Can’t do both!”

  Blistering heat radiated against her skin, blossoming outward with savage disregard for hallowed antiquity. Melting globules spilled from fracturing shelves coated with embers while ash touched her mouth and induced a hacking cough. This act of desecration was little different from destroying money to Maylene’s mind, since each charred scroll might fetch a hefty sum. She cursed the necessity of her deed.

  Holding a filthy sleeve over her mouth, Maylene charged up a flight of stairs bathed in weaving orange as shouts accompanied frantic footfalls. Let the guards turn their mur
derous intentions to dousing flames rather than beating her. She had even helpfully given them unwarranted practice during the scullery blaze days earlier.

  Maylene reached the hanging rope and tightened her fingers around coarse hemp, planting both feet against a stone wall. For the second bloody time tonight, she climbed using only the strength in her steadily depleting limbs. Thank the gods Almar took his sweet time breaking through, granting her a welcome reprieve. Quavers rippled through her shoulders even after she released the cord and crawled forward on carpet.

  A strangled yelp vented from Maylene’s scratchy throat when hands seized both ankles, smashing her chin into the floor. She floundered and grasped the taut rope, peeling flesh from her palm as she was dragged backward. Burly arms latched around Maylene’s thighs, hauling higher while blood filled her mouth.

  “Try running now,” Almar decried.

  She jerked legs constrained by the captain’s hefty bulk, unable to wriggle from his grasp. Her lacerated palm smeared blood over the rope, painting strands cardinal. Maylene slipped one hand into the quiver on her belt and retrieved a blowpipe dart with tense fingers. She shrieked as Almar clambered closer, lashing knuckles into her ribcage. A scaling hand snatched the lone braid flopping from her scalp and fiery spasms tore into aching flesh.

  “Chew on this, fucker,” she snarled.

  Maylene whipped her arm downward, pricking his throat with a needle laced in tetrodotoxin. Almar tore the projectile from flushed skin as his jaw slackened, no longer able to form coherent words. He wilted aside and all at once she felt crushing pressure leave her body. Maylene wrenched one leg free and smashed the sole into Almar’s forehead, pitching him into a soundless tumble through the cavity.

  She scrambled toward Zalla’s knot and grasped the working end, yanking a slack bight through and releasing the rope. Hemp slithered across cracked tiles and disappeared from sight into the hole, no doubt spooling atop a paralyzed and livid Almar. She climbed upright, exhaled through scalding lungs and sprinted from the chamber.

  *

  Aryll crouched beneath a windowsill opposite the chamber’s lone doorway, eyeing Blaer while she fiddled with a slender black cord. The open pack was nestled at her feet, revealing strange equipment and apparatuses. Once finished, Blaer secured a second line alongside the first and faced Aryll again.

  “Silk weave,” Blaer elucidated, trundling the spools toward Aryll. Loose cord trailed behind her, wending back to a sturdy rail. “Hard to believe what this cost to acquire.”

  “Why are you doing this? You don’t seem like a bad person.”

  “Now isn’t the time to appeal to my humanity.”

  “Would you ever hurt me?”

  “Probably not. But I’m not the one who makes those choices.”

  “What’s your real name? Since I’m betting Blaer isn’t a contender.”

  She tossed rope beneath the window and retraced her steps. “Sorry, Aryll. I’m afraid you won’t be learning much about me. Trying to endear yourself to me isn’t a bad tactic. It won’t work, of course. But it’s a practical attempt.”

  Aryll shuffled closer on her knees. “Your friends won’t escape from Starwatch with their scroll. I can promise you that. Thieves have been trying for centuries and none succeeded. But you can give yourself up now. You haven’t hurt anyone. I’ll talk to the Headmaster and maybe convince him to be more lenient on you.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret I’ve discovered.” Blaer hefted the haversack, dumped it on the floor and pulled out clinking harnesses. “It’s not wise to wager against the people I’m working with. They have a tendency to come out on top.”

  Blaer removed an oilcloth satchel holding the codex and stuffed it within her jacket, leaving only a subtle bulge. Next she helped Aryll upright and attached leather around her waist and thighs, cinching hitches and straps through close-fitted buckles. Rawhide pinched Aryll’s skin, a trivial concern compared to the dawning anxiety swarming through her mind. “What are these for?”

  “I’m sure you’ve already figured it out.”

  Blaer unlatched iron and shoved one window ajar, inviting a chill wind through Aryll’s bones. Retrieving bound coils from carpeted floor, she flung rope outside into the night. Moonlight unveiled a red tinge to Blaer’s face and neck, flushed with perspiration.

  “You’re nervous, too,” Aryll remarked through quickened breaths. “I can see you are.”

  “I’ll manage. This is Kalyna’s specialty. We’re in good hands.”

  Aryll placed shackled hands against the windowsill, steadying her uncertain balance. “The woman who’s already threatened to kill me. Lovely.”

  “Only if you insist on causing us headaches. She isn’t vindictive by nature. Only unforgiving.”

  Aryll suffered an involuntary shiver, though she did not know whether the culprit was an imminent descent or displeasing a homicidal thief. Thudding footsteps brought Aryll around to face the entry, her prayerful hopes for salvation at the hands of a guard swiftly quashed.

  Kalyna staggered into the room glistening with sweat and wrapping ripped cloth around one bloodied hand. Tangled strands spilled to either side of a face dotted with black splotches. She surveyed Aryll and nodded. “Good. You’ve got our girl dressed.”

  Blaer tossed Kalyna a jangling harness and started fastening metal implements onto clasps hanging from her own. “We pressed for time?”

  “No more than usual.” Kalyna secured leather around her hips and paced to the window. “I hate vertigo.”

  Aryll crept closer and stuck her nose over the void, inhaling a sharp breath. “Are you insane?” she squeaked.

  “A little bit, yeah.”

  “You want us to go out there?”

  Kalyna pulled several scrolls from the haversack and slipped them into her doublet. “Can’t get down to the ground any other way. It’s all about a simple lack of choices.”

  “Please let me go. You can tie me up or whatever you want. I’ll sit right here and not do anything. I swear.”

  “After Blaer went to all the trouble of outfitting you? What a rude thought.”

  “And if the guards find this room while we’re out there?” Aryll questioned. “They might not know I’m with you and cut the rope.”

  “Let them try. It’s a wonderful material fashioned in some city with an unpronounceable name way south in Balnir. Takes ages to slice through, and the guards here are otherwise occupied currently.” Kalyna tugged torn fabric from her pocket and looped it around Aryll’s jaw. “I resisted the temptation to gag you before. Consider it a courtesy. But I can’t permit you to exhaust your little lungs shrieking for all the world to hear. Imagine what festival revelers might think if they chanced to glance upward and saw three women abseiling down Starwatch’s exterior. Why, they’d be mortified.” She clapped the panicky girl on her back and grinned. “But we haven’t much time for conversation. That fire I started won’t burn forever.”

  Aryll’s slender brows lifted skyward and she struggled to speak through cloth restricting her moistened lips. “Fire?”

  “Try not to worry too much about it. Quite a few guards seemed genuinely enthusiastic to stop it from spreading.” Kalyna stepped close and clipped Aryll’s harness to her own before attaching braces to both lines threading through the window. “We’re going tandem, you and me. Now then, out the window, kiddo. I promise I won’t let you fall to a horrific, messy death far below.”

  Kalyna pushed Aryll over the windowsill as her panicked hands grappled for purchase on varnished wood. Her fingers were prised loose while Kalyna swung legs over and joined Aryll. With nothing else to grip, Aryll sought to clutch the other woman’s clothing, only to have her hands batted aside. Kalyna grasped metal loops, feeding cord through while Aryll bumped and grinded against the tower’s exterior. Descent was a languid process, noticeable to Aryll’s eyes only by the position of certain stains and grooves marring granite.

  The Asdori woman soon halted, swaying into a st
one surface smoothed by centuries of caressing wind and rain. “I want you to take a glance down.”

  Aryll stared into dark eyes barely discernible beneath the moons, though chose not to obey.

  “Humor me.”

  She tried shoving fabric from her mouth with a dry tongue and peeked beyond hanging legs to the ground. Remorseless fear assailed Aryll, slicing through her chest and clamping on the heart within. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered, seeking to burrow into a safe hole far beyond reach.

  “And the desired effect is achieved,” Kalyna purred. “I want you to appreciate the bind you’re in. Right now you’re better off alive, but if you lose your value as a hostage, then you’re literally dead weight to me. Which I’m happy to jettison as the situation demands. You might be impersonating a potato sack, but my arms are burning like you wouldn’t believe. It won’t pain me to drop you if I’m given a reason. Quite the opposite, in fact. Stay quiet, stay limp, and we’ll get along magically.”

  Aryll offered a weak, insincere nod and felt her body pitch downward at a steady rate. She refused to open tearful eyes, instead conjuring whatever fictitious scenario might calm her frayed nerves. Gusts whipped sweaty hair but did nothing to cool skin laced in burning pinpricks.

  Eventually their descent ceased with a lurch and Aryll opened her eyes. Sallow moonlight glinted against a black surface reflecting her distorted face. Kalyna touched one glove to the rippled glass and rapped her knuckles three times. A squealing noise preceded the window opening inward to a shadowed chamber sparsely lit by candlelight.

  Hands reached out and grasped rawhide harnesses, tugging them within until Aryll felt her boots touch glorious, blessed floor. After Kalyna detached the clips binding their harnesses together, a bump from the woman flung Aryll to crumple with loose rope spooling over her legs. Aryll groaned and placed quavering hands on the floor, hearing Blaer scamper inside close behind.

  A startled voice echoed in the confined chamber. “Aryll?”

  “Ah, friend of yours?” inquired Kalyna.

  Aryll glanced upward and shoved herself onto bruised knees. Familiar disbelieving eyes illumined by flickering fires gazed into hers. She reached up and strained to tear soggy fabric from her mouth with fettered wrists. “Kimiko…what are you doing here? You’re helping these people?”