North Star Guide Me Home

by Jo Spurrier

  The dog hit the wall with a yelp, but then staggered up with a shake of its head, jaws dripping with blood.

  The enemy mage scrambled up and took off again. He glanced back, scowling, and that glimpse was enough for Isidro to recognise him. Even wounded, the man was as much soldier as mage and within a few paces he was sprinting through the halls.

  With a silent curse Isidro pressed on again. ‘Stay behind me,’ he ordered the men as the mage ducked around a corner. ‘He’ll be throwing down traps. Keep that hound back.’ The dog had shaken off the impact and was about to set off again when one of the men seized it by the collar.

  ‘Sir, he can’t get through that way,’ the nearest guardsman said. ‘That passage was closed off when the checkpoints went in.’

  Isidro nodded, but he knew no wall would be anything more than a delay to the mage ahead of them.

  Around the corner he felt the first of the traps. The mage had thrown a stone down onto the floor, and Isidro felt its power pulsing from a dozen strides away. With a needle-thread of power he pierced it, and as the energy bound within it drained away a glowing tangle of cords briefly flashed into view. He’d never seen the like before, but after Kell’s tripwires he could guess what it would do. By the time the men reached it, the stone had failed and, as a boot kicked it, it exploded into a puff of chalky dust.

  Around another bend they found him, breathing hard as he attached a clump of stones to the wall with a gob of waxy substance. He glanced around, wide-eyed; he’d been relying on the trip-wire stone to give warning of their approach.

  The men spread out to surround him. One of them, carrying a crossbow, raised it and loosed the bolt. The mage tried to shield, but Isidro was already countering. The flickering veil of light winked out, and the bolt struck his thigh. His leg folded as the man grunted in pain.

  ‘On the ground,’ Isidro commanded in Akharian as the guard loaded another quarrel.

  The mage looked up at him with undisguised hatred. It was the same expression he’d worn the last time Isidro had seen him, when the Akharians fled the cavern at the heart of Demon’s Spire. ‘Go fuck yourself,’ he spat. ‘Barbarian scum. I always knew you were keeping something from us.’

  There was one bundle of stones on the wall, and another in his hand. The mage clenched his fist around it and Isidro felt the power throb under his touch.

  GET DOWN! Rasten snapped in his head, but Isidro was already in motion. As the Akharian woke the enchantment, his senses blazed with the fury it contained.

  Isidro cast a hasty shield, gathering all the power he had, but in the space of a heartbeat Rasten added his strength, letting Isidro seal the passage with a wall of inky-black and deep, blood-red.

  Then, crouching on one knee upon the stone, Isidro clenched his teeth and sent a thin probe through the wall he’d built. He knew what the mage meant to do. The devices were meant to cause chaos and confusion and let him slip away in its wake. But now that he was cornered, they’d do just as well to keep him from being taken alive.

  The stones burst just as Isidro tapped into the power they held — tearing themselves apart in a firestorm of fury, unleashing an inferno that would have roasted his guardsmen alive. Isidro drew off as much power as he was able, rerouting it into his shield. He would keep the wretch alive if he could. Delphine might hate him for it, but if the enemy had any information on what the Akharians had planned, he’d do whatever it took to wring it from him.

  But as the stones spent their strength and the blast died down, he knew he was too late. There was a brief flare of pain, an echoing kiss of searing heat, but then it was gone as swiftly as a snuffed candle. By the time the blast was spent, there was nothing left alive in the passage beyond it. The stench of scorched skin and hair hit him like a punch to the gut.

  His mage-light had winked out, and Isidro cast another into the air to gaze down at the remains.

  The hand and arm that had held the stone was simply gone. Most of the torso, too. What remained — the head, neck and shoulder — was connected to the lower body only by a narrow strip of flesh. The mage had turned his face away from the blast. The skin of his scalp was charred and split, but his face was untouched.

  Isidro dismissed the corpse with a toss of his head and turned to the guards. ‘Find a blanket or something to carry this in,’ he said. ‘The king and Lord Ardamon will want to see it.’

  ‘Yessir.’

  He took a few slow strides past the smoking body, peering into the darkness ahead. The guards said this passage was blocked off, but the mage had come this way with purpose. He’d been prepared to be spotted, he had a plan in place to deal with it … so why let himself be trapped? Was that blast meant to tear down the walls and let him through? No, it made more sense for it to be a decoy, a distraction from some other means of escape.

  Leaving his mage-light bobbing over the corpse, Isidro called up another and held it in his false hand as he kept moving onwards.

  There was power in the air, a faint hum like the buzzing of distant insects. He hadn’t felt it back there — either it was too faint, or the mage and his stones had drowned it out. But here he could sense it as clear as day … and he’d felt it before. A year ago, in the far north, when he and Delphine had been chasing Blood-Mages through Earthblood, he’d felt something like this.

  Isidro closed his eyes and let his senses guide him, feeling his way with his hands. After a few cautious steps, something cool and rippling washed over him.

  He opened his eyes, and found himself standing inches away from a solid stone wall, into which his hand had vanished up to the elbow.

  With one more step he passed through the illusion, the veil flowing over him like a cool, dry waterfall, a tingling ripple of power. His mage-light, still clutched in his false hand, showed him to be in a cluttered chamber, although someone had cut a path through the ruin of charred and broken furniture.

  He’d seen an illusion like this before, guarding the lower entrance to Earthblood, a place the Akharians had held since last winter. So, they’d found a way to bypass the zones and checkpoints. He clenched his jaw, wondering just how many of these hidden doorways the cursed Slavers had made inside his home.

  Two guards burst through the false wall behind him, swords in hand, eyes wide and alarmed. ‘Sir!’ one of them cried out. ‘In the king’s name, let us go first next time!’

  Oh. Of course. He still wasn’t used to having an escort everywhere he went. ‘Apologies,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘What in the Black Sun’s name is this?’ the guard said, every muscle of his body tense as he swept the chamber. ‘Some kind of portal?’

  ‘No, no,’ Isidro said. ‘Just an illusion.’ He ducked back through, bringing the men with him. ‘Six of you stay here, guard this spot. I’ll send reinforcements. The rest of you, gather up that carrion.’

  As he started back, he reached for Rasten. Get the others up, he said. They need to hear of this.

  Everyone was gathered in the common room by the time he returned — all except Sierra. Cam stood when Isidro returned. ‘I hear there was an intruder,’ he said with a glance at Rasten. ‘And that the wretch has been dealt with.’

  ‘Both true,’ Isidro said. ‘Any trouble here?’ That question was directed at Rasten, who shook his head.

  He told them the tale of it, and at the end Ardamon hissed in annoyance. ‘It’s a pity you didn’t take the wretch alive.’

  ‘I tried,’ Isidro said with a shrug.

  ‘Who knows what we could have wrung from him, what with a master torturer in our hands and all.’

  Cam glared at him. ‘I don’t have a torturer. Sierra has a bodyguard.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do whatever it took —’

  Cam cut him off with a curt gesture. ‘It’s a moot point in any case, since the wretch is dead.’

  Isidro cast Rasten a sidelong glance. The dog he’d taken out leant against Rasten’s leg, panting, and he lowered a hand to rub its ea
rs. It hadn’t occurred to Isidro just who would have put the mage to question, and in that instant he was glad the man was dead.

  Delphine laid both hands flat against the table. ‘Issey, these hidden passages. Tell me again … you say they’re screened, somehow.’

  ‘Yes, like the entrance to Earthblood. They’ve had plenty of time to study the wretched thing. If we can figure out how it works, maybe you or Alameda can work out a way to detect and disable them. The Gods only know how many of the cursed things they’ve planted.’

  Biting her lip, Delphine nodded.

  With a terse breath, Cam set his fist against the table. ‘Alright. So what was the son of a bitch doing? You’re sure he was alone?’

  Isidro nodded.

  ‘One man is not an attack. But they took a risk — we’d never have found these cursed doorways if he hadn’t led you there. So what in the Black Sun’s name was he doing?’

  Rasten shifted his weight with a creak of his leather coat. ‘May I speak?’

  Cam cut him a sharp glance, but nodded.

  ‘They need to know if Sierra’s truly injured or just bluffing,’ he said. ‘Their plans hinge on it.’ He turned to Isidro. ‘Did he have any devices?’

  ‘A pouch full,’ Isidro said. ‘But there’s not much left after that blast.’

  ‘I’ll have a look anyway,’ Delphine said. ‘Alameda, too. We’ll see what we can work out.’

  ‘Could they have a device that’ll tell them what state she’s in?’ Isidro asked her.

  She shrugged, spreading her hands.

  ‘They might not need it,’ Rasten said. ‘She absorbs and radiates power every cursed moment of the day. If they’ve taken a measure of her usual levels, they might make a guess by comparing them.’

  Delphine frowned. ‘That makes sense … but then why would they risk coming so close? Surely they could take the reading from the level above or below us?’

  Rasten shook his head. ‘No. I wondered if they’d try something like that. I put a shield around her, and she’s too weak to corrode it.’

  ‘So they couldn’t get a reading either way,’ Cam asked, and he gave Rasten a nod. ‘Good thinking. But next time you have a thought like that, cursed well tell us, would you?’

  A brief war of emotions played out over Rasten’s face. For an instant, he looked stricken, then surprised, and then he bowed his head. ‘Yes, your grace.’

  There came a soft wail from Delphine’s open doorway — Illiana was awake. Delphine strode off to see to her, and Isidro turned to Ardamon. ‘Ardo,’ he said in an undertone, ‘the man I killed. Anoa might want to see him. It was her old master, when we were slaves.’

  Ardamon pulled back, his eyes wide. ‘You’re sure?’

  Isidro nodded. ‘I knew the bastard well. Just don’t mention it around Delphine until I’ve had a chance to break it to her. He was her kin.’

  ‘Alright,’ Ardamon said, ‘but I’d advise to do it swiftly. I can’t tell how Ani’s going to take it, but I can tell you she won’t be cursed quiet about it.’

  At the table Cam rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘What hour is it?’

  ‘A few hours ’til dawn, I’d say,’ Mira answered.

  ‘Well, that’s the night done for. Send down for some breakfast, would you, my sweet? If we’ve got the whole cursed palace to search, Ardo, we’d best get on it.’

  ‘One thing first,’ Isidro said. ‘How’s Sirri?’

  ‘Still sleeping,’ Cam said. ‘But she looks better, Rhia says. The fever’s broken.’

  Even with that welcome news, Isidro’s stomach was tense and knotted as he followed Delphine’s steps.

  Inside, he found her lifting Ilya from her cradle. ‘I suppose we’d best get to this wretched illusion. Let me just give Ilya to the nursemaids …’ She started for the door, but Isidro caught her arm, pulling her back. ‘Delphi, wait. There’s …’ he sighed. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

  In the guardroom, Anoa crouched on her heels beside the dead man. With a knife in her hand, she set the flat of the blade against Torren’s cheek to turn his face towards her. Wickedly sharp, the knife scored a thin line into his skin, weeping a slow ooze of blood. His eyes, wide open and vacant, were already clouding over.

  Isidro felt Delphine tremble as he tightened his arm around her shoulders. ‘Delphi, it might be better to wait —’

  Anoa glanced around at the sound. Her face was sombre, more sad than anything else, but she was no less lovely for it.

  Delphine drew a deep breath. ‘No,’ she said, ‘he was a rapist and a torturer. He’d have been quite happy to hand me over for the same fate after you took me prisoner in the Spire.’

  Her expression unchanged, Anoa turned back to the corpse. She set the point of the knife under his eye, and with the barest hint of pressure, the tip pierced the skin. ‘Was it quick?’ she asked Isidro.

  ‘Yes. The blast killed him right away.’

  ‘But he knew he was trapped. He knew he had no chance to get away.’

  ‘Not quite,’ Ardamon said. ‘There was a hidden door there that only a Sensitive could have found. He thought he was dying to protect it and that he could get rid of Isidro into the bargain.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Anoa said as a slow welling of blood oozed from the dead man’s wound. ‘Did it hurt?’

  ‘I daresay,’ Ardamon said.

  ‘Good. It’s just a pity you couldn’t take him alive, Isidro.’

  ‘I tried,’ Isidro said. In truth, he was half-glad he’d failed. As valuable as the Akharian’s information would have been, he wasn’t sure what it would cost to wring it from him. Rasten would do it for Sierra’s sake, but the consequences of that were too many and too complex to guess.

  Anoa wiped her knife on an unbloodied patch of Torren’s shirt, and stood. ‘What will you do with it now?’

  ‘Hang it from the gates,’ Ardamon said. ‘Let the rats and crows have at it.’

  Anoa bit her lip and cast around. Her eyes settled on something near the door and Isidro followed her gaze to see Rasten leaning against the frame, watching. She glanced down at the corpse. ‘I thought it would help to see him dead,’ she said at last. ‘I thought it would make me feel better.’

  ‘It helps a little,’ Rasten said, ‘just not as much as you hope. It doesn’t change what happened. But I’d go watch them string him up if I were you.’

  She glanced up at him again, looking as though she was about to weep. ‘Truly?’

  He nodded. ‘Just see it done, and walk away knowing you never need worry about him again.’

  Anoa nodded as a tear spilled down her cheek. ‘That sounds good.’ Then, with her head down and her dark hair spilling over to hide her face, she retreated into the royal chambers. Rasten stepped back from the door to let her through.

  Isidro squeezed Delphine’s shoulder, and she leant against him with a sigh. ‘What’s that old saying? Live by the sword, die by the sword? He earned this fate. Now …’ She shook herself. ‘Let’s get to work.’

  It took a few hours to extract the camouflage device. It was similar to the one Delphine had recreated, but simpler overall. Once it had been removed, the true doorway was revealed. There was a shocking, ragged hole in the stone wall.

  As the stonemasons began to close the hole, Isidro went with Alameda and Delphine to take the device back to the workshop. By then, the other mages were reporting for duty, and Isidro detailed the sharpest of their Sensitives to search for more of the hidden passages.

  Once the search parties were dispatched, he tried to assist Delphine and Alameda in creating a device to detect the faint field the camouflage device gave off, but soon had to admit he was out of his depth … they were talking of concepts and theories that he had only barely touched on. Delphine tried to explain, but every moment she spent on him meant they were losing time. In the end Isidro left them to it, and joined one of the search parties instead.

  Three more passages were found, with two other possibilities detec
ted, though the source of the faint ripples of power couldn’t be ascertained. Isidro explored those two himself, but found nothing, leaving him to wonder if they were sensing some other device hidden nearby. If Sierra were stronger, he’d bring her down to trip the stones into failure, but it was too risky for now.

  At noon he returned to the workshops and joined the women for lunch. They’d had only minimal success, for the device they’d crafted was prone to shorting out. The meal was spent in a terse discussion of what might be done to fix the device, to which Isidro listened in silence. The debate was brought to an abrupt end when a nursemaid, escorted by a half-dozen guards, brought a wailing Ilya to Delphine to nurse.

  Isidro retreated to the office, where he sat down with a map of the palace and the hidden doors and tried to tease some pattern from them. If they could only find where the wretches were holed up, but for weeks Ardamon had sent patrols into the unused regions of the palace, and they’d turned up nothing at all. Either the Akharians were somehow shielding their workings, or all these devices were being constructed outside of the palace and then smuggled in … which would be simple if they’d placed another hidden doorway in one of the outer walls.

  The previous night’s short sleep, combined with the warmth and quiet of his private office, saw him growing drowsy and, though he fought against it, when the click of the door and the shuffle of boots on the floor roused him, he found he’d fallen asleep with his head pillowed on the crook of his good arm.

  It was Lavani, bringing him a bowl of Delphine’s coffee. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Here, Madame Delphine asked me to bring you this.’

  He took the bowl and sipped it with a grimace. It did seem to wake one up. ‘Thanks, Lavani. How’s it going out there?’

  ‘It’s quiet, sir. Alameda and Madame Delphine have each taken a device to help the search. They couldn’t make it stable enough for any of us new mages, as they need running repairs to keep functioning.’