Quests by Numbers (Rogue Spotter Book 5)

by Kimberly A Rogers

  It took a good bit of time before Lauren seemed to be over her bout of sickness. I brought her over to the opposite corner again and settled us both on the ground. She leaned her head against my shoulder, eyes closed and skin pale, as she asked faintly, “What was that smoke?”

  “Python’s Breath. The dragons use it to subdue rogues or shifters who’ve lost all sense of their humanity. Unfortunately, it can have a lingering reaction on anyone who isn’t a shifter.” I paused when Lauren shifted her hand to rest against her abdomen. She didn’t ask it, but I knew what she was worrying over now. Whether the baby would be affected.

  I didn’t trust whoever had caught us to not be listening to our conversation now. And, I did not want to hand them any leverage to use against us. I couldn’t comfort her in words this time. Instead, I could only reach over to cover the hand resting on her abdomen with mine. I squeezed twice, and then pressed a kiss to her temple.

  Tugging Lauren up with me, I had to hunch nearly in half to stand on my feet. It seemed someone was waiting for just that, however, because a narrow section of rock depressed where we had been sitting only a moment ago. Moving in front of Lauren, I approached the section cautiously before I pushed against the stone. It clicked and then slid to the right, vanishing inside the wall.

  I waited a moment and when nothing attacked, I reached a hand behind me. Lauren’s slim fingers wrapped around mine, and I led us into the dark. The ceiling was still too low for me to stand up straight, and the tunnel walls were a tight fit. I had to turn sideways to scoot through three different narrow spots. Finally, the tunnel emptied into a much wider one and I was able to stand upright, my back aching at the prolonged time I’d spent hunched over. No sign of our bags or of anything else for that matter, aside from a bronze brazier casting its flickering light across the white stone walls of the tunnel.

  Spying a bundle of torches, I grabbed one and set its head in the brazier until the flames caught. I’d grabbed a second when Lauren’s gasp pulled my attention to her and then to whatever had alarmed her. Movement in the shadows. A heavy step echoed in the tunnel followed by the sound of metal grinding together.

  My suspicions were confirmed when the firelight caught on smooth bronze. I swore under my breath as I grabbed Lauren by the arm and pulled her around behind me. “Talos automatons.”

  “I thought those were disbanded for faulty . . . programming.”

  Lauren sounded a bit faint on the last word, and I hoped she wasn’t about to collapse or have another bout of sickness. Keeping my free hand on her arm, pushing her so she stood at my back, I didn’t dare look away from the approaching Talos automaton. One of the Fae had been tinkering with automatons, mucking about in hopes of recreating the Talos. Instead, they’d managed to create a series of seven foot tall, oversized mechanical men whose programming led them to follow orders even if it meant trampling owners underfoot. A few cases had reported the automatons working together to pull an owner apart by the limbs when he’d attempted to leave the boundaries of his estate. Faulty programming was a bit of an understatement.

  I raised the flickering torch, but the bronze man merely kept up his approach. Then another appeared, huge feet clanking and bronze covered legs scraping together with every step. This one extended deceptively human looking hands. I almost preferred the older models with clamps instead of proper hands. Letting them grab us would be a potentially deadly mistake, especially without my weapons.

  We were forced to back up and then to turn down a winding side tunnel to avoid the automatons’ outstretched hands. When we came to a crossroads, I attempted to turn right only to have a third Talos automaton appear. We went left, the floor of the tunnel sloping slightly as we went . . . down. The automatons were driving us down somewhere. Further into this twisting maze of tunnels.

  Eventually, we stumbled into a larger room. The automatons ceased pursuing us although they remained grouped in the archway leading into the room. I felt Lauren grip the back of my jacket as I slowly turned, raising the torch high. Light and shadow fought each other, flickering into being before vanishing. Yet, I could make out the bright paints of frescos. I moved closer to one of the walls. A fresco of a pale man leaping the horns of a charging bull stood out in stark contrast to the red walls of this particular room. They had painted the stone . . .

  I moved in a slow circuit around the room. More frescos covered the length of the two walls and either side of the archways leading from the automaton filled tunnel to another empty tunnel. These showed stylized griffins, more bull leaping, and even a minotaur chasing a woman and fighting a man. A groan escaped me, however, when the torch’s light flickered across a distinct carving. The ancient Greek symbol Delta. The mark of Daedalus.

  “I thought you said the labyrinth was kept cleared by the dragons,” Lauren murmured.

  “I did.” I glanced down at her as I added ruefully, “Unfortunately, that would be the labyrinth that was built for the amusement of Knossos’ clientele. That is the mark of Daedalus, which means we are likely inside the original labyrinth, the one he built for Minos’ monsters.”

  “And there are faulty automatons blocking the only way we currently know that might lead out instead of further in,” she concluded. She fell silent for a long moment and then sighed. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.” When I looked at her, she was frowning at one of the walls. “What’s that?”

  “Shadows, probably.”

  “No, there. Put the torch closer to the wall. In the shadow under the minotaur’s horns, right behind his head.”

  I lowered the torch obediently. The shadow didn’t flee the light. Instead the stone around it cleared to reveal a niche carved into the wall. And something was partially filling it. Handing Lauren the torch, I reached inside the hollowed space and pulled out my knives, still sheathed. After checking them, I looked at Lauren and allowed a small smirk to appear. “It seems we are expected to do something more than flee the automatons.”

  Next we found Lauren’s satchel. Lauren dug through it, drawing out her head shawls and two water bottles. As soon as her brow furrowed and a frown tugged at the corners of her mouth, I knew what hadn’t been left in the satchel. Well, it would have been remarkably incompetent of whoever had captured us to leave the crown piece with us even if they didn’t know what it was or what it meant. So far, I had seen a rather disturbing lack of incompetence of any sort from this lot.

  “Who do you think is behind this?”

  Lauren’s quiet question pulled my attention from a probably futile plan to attack the automatons. I nodded to the bronze men. “There aren’t many fool enough to mess with Talos automatons these days. And having access to Python’s Breath narrows the list even further. If I had to guess, I would say we are now the unwilling guests of the Minos Guild.”

  Lauren grimaced before her attention shifted to the archway behind us. “Eight. Two.”

  I whirled, drawing my knives and wishing I had my sword. A rush of fetid air filled the room, and then a pale grey shadow ducked inside. A screech sounded. Harpies. Their wings were a dusty grey and their women’s heads were leached of color with only thin fuzz covering their scalps, more feathers than hair. Their talons outstretched, they swept toward us. I gave a shout as I leapt at the closest one.

  She screamed in Greek when I sliced her leg just above the scaly skin while barely avoiding a cut from her tainted talons. Cursing me. Fortunately, harpies weren’t able to hold magic with their words. They merely made for rather foul noise mongers. Dangerous more for the filth in their feathers and the guarantee of sepsis from any scratch or bite they managed to land on a body.

  I dodged the harpy’s wing, then jumped up to stab at her abdomen. I cut the tip of her feathers, but didn’t hit anything solid. I could’ve thrown a dagger, but there was always the risk she’d flutter off with it. My sword would have been handy. Very handy. I ducked beneath her grasping talons and then twisted around to grasp her legs just above her feet. The harpy screeched an out
raged curse in Greek as she plummeted toward the ground, my weight bearing us both down.

  Ducking my head slightly, I pulled until I could rest my feet solidly against the floor. Bracing my legs, I let out a shout of my own as I swung the harpy to the side. Catching her off guard, I let go and the momentum of my swing sent her pinwheeling against the near wall. She was still screeching curses in Greek as she struggled to regain her equilibrium, crashing to the ground in a fluttering pile.

  Another scream echoed through the room, chased by the smell of burning feathers. I looked around in time to see Lauren’s fierce expression as she swung the torch at the second harpy. Her tail feathers were singed already. This time the torch caught the filthy creature in the chest. She screeched horrifically and then wobbled in the air, flapping her wings frantically. Lauren didn’t make a sound as she pulled the torch back and swung again like she was attempting to send a ball flying or burst a disturbed piñata. She caught the harpy in the foot.

  Turning my attention back to my own fight, I focused on the harpy as she finally managed to launch her unwieldy body into the air. She flew toward me, talons outstretched and ready to rip into me. Slipping to one side, I sliced first at her leg, then brought my second dagger down on those outstretched toes successfully severing a talon. She screamed louder and wheeled around, blood dripping in her wake as she fluttered out of the room. The second harpy lost all courage and attempted to flee. She knocked into me, but was too preoccupied with her singed and smoking feathers to attempt to scratch me.

  For a moment, I considered chasing them to end their threat permanently. Then, Lauren touched my arm. Looking into her pale face, I could see that she hadn’t fully recovered from the ordeal with the Python’s Breath or from fighting the harpy. Attempting to distract her, I offered a crooked smile. “You realize there are better ways to roast a chicken, yes?”

  Lauren stared at me for a moment before her gaze cleared. Rolling her eyes even as she smiled, she clicked her tongue at me. “Mathias, that was probably the saddest attempt at a joke you have ever made.”

  “Oh come on, that was funny.”

  She smiled a little wider. “No, it was really bad.” Her smile faded as she looked in the direction the harpies had flown. “It’s only going to get worse from here, isn’t it?”

  My own smile vanished as I finished cleaning my knives on a scrap of cloth I’d found. “Most likely. The Minos Guild wouldn’t just stop at collecting those foul pigeons.”

  I paused at the sound of stone grating against stone. A portion of the wall beneath one of the griffin reliefs slid away to reveal another shadowed niche. Cautiously reaching inside, I pulled out my sheathed sword. Securing it in its shoulder sheath, I glanced at Lauren. “It seems we’ve passed round one.” Knowing we had no other choice, I nodded toward the archway. “Come on, then, into the breach once more. We’ll find a way out of this place. I promise.”

  “Did you bring a magic ball of thread?” she asked with a small sardonic smile.

  I grinned. “Unfortunately, I seem to have left it in my other coat.”

  “So careless, my dear.”

  “I’ll take much better care from this point forward,” I stated.

  Lauren looked up at me for a long moment, and I knew she heard the promise there. She nodded as she raised the torch with both hands. “All right then, let’s keep moving.”

  “That’s the spirit, love.”

  “With you, Mathias, I never really have much choice.”

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Lauren

  Walking around a dead harpy is one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever done. Keeping my shawl wadded over my mouth and nose, I tried not to breathe until I’d managed to edge around the fetid pile of flesh and feathers. She hadn’t even been one of the two who’d attacked us when we’d first arrived. By my count, we had run into no less than six harpies now, and Mathias had killed three of them.

  He used a scrap of cloth to clean his sword and then dropped it beside the harpy’s body. He didn’t bother to sheath his sword again as he moved ahead, however, merely reaching his free hand back to me. I grasped it, grateful to see the coldness in his eyes had faded now that this threat was . . . dispatched. We’d reached another crossroads when the harpy attacked, and now Mathias studied our choices.

  I peered into the darkness of the tunnel directly in front of us, the continuation of the one we’d been following. A faint glow appeared in the distance. Numbers, no doubt. I looked to our right and spied another faint glow. The noise of the fight or the smell of the harpy’s blood had probably called more creatures. I did not want to meet them. They were far enough away that I could only hope they couldn’t make us out yet, even with our torch fallen on the ground.

  The tunnel to our left was clear of any glows, however. Tugging on Mathias’ hand, I stepped to the left. He followed without asking questions. Something I was grateful for since I didn’t know if we were still being spied on by the Minos Guild, whoever they may be, and I didn’t want to clarify I was a Spotter. Just like I hadn’t dared mention the baby, something Mathias hadn’t mentioned either not even as our stowaway. I glanced at the torch, but it was partially covered in harpy blood now and already spluttering weakly.

  Mathias released my hand long enough to pull out one of his knives. He handed it to me, leaving me no choice save to take it. Once we’d left the harpy’s odious body behind, I stuffed my shawl back into my satchel. Our steps were muffled by sand that had been spread throughout the tunnels. Unfortunately, it muffled anyone else’s approach too, which meant I needed to stay perfectly alert.

  It was almost too quiet. Nothing came out of the dark to attack us. And, the tunnel we’d darted down didn’t seem to have any offshoots or to cross with any other tunnels. The lighting was different too. Not pitch black but muddled, almost grey. I could see the outline of Mathias’ long lean frame directly in front of me and the muddied grey walls on either side of us, but it was as though a light filtering system had been left in partial working order bringing with it the gloom of twilight or a foggy evening on the moors. That’s what it reminded me of . . . when we had been traveling through the moors of Scotland.

  I grimaced at the memory. At least, it wasn’t as damp or filled with midges. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if we ran into a redcap or a kelpie in the labyrinth. Unless, those paranormals weren’t deemed exotic enough to fit the tastes of the Minos Guild. Well, a redcap probably wouldn’t, but a kelpie was rare enough and dangerous enough that even the Minos Guild might want one in their collection.

  Realizing my thoughts were teetering on the brink of spiraling into despair, I gave myself a mental shake. We weren’t being attacked at the moment and, as suspicious as it was, I wasn’t going to argue with having a small respite. I could only hope and pray that we weren’t about to walk into something even worse . . . or another trap.

  We kept walking until Mathias abruptly stopped in his tracks. Leaning around him, I could see why. We had reached a dead end. The tunnel’s grey walls now curved in front of us, which left nowhere to go except back.

  I frowned as I caught a faint shimmer out of the corner of my eye. Not from the wall that had appeared in front of us. This was in a sort of shadow to the right. How a shadow could shimmer I have no idea. It was the only word that seemed to fit what I was not quite seeing, however.

  Nudging Mathias’ arm, I nodded to the shadow. “What does that look like to you?”

  Mathias’ mouth pulled down into a faint frown as he studied where I’d indicated. “I’m not certain . . .”

  Then, he raised his sword and tapped its tip lightly against the rock directly above the shimmering shadow. I squinted. There. I could just make out the faint carving of what looked like a double headed axe blade. That was strange . . . although perhaps not as strange as seeing a shimmering shadow.

  Mathias, on the other hand, seemed to think it was worth poking again. Quite literally since he jabbed his sword i
nto the shadow. I jumped at the movement. The sword didn’t stop, though. It kept going until the entire length of the blade vanished into the shadow, the shimmers coming faster until they were practically dancing around the sword.

  Then, Mathias put his hand in the shadow. I really wished he had found a different way to test it. A low roar echoed from behind us, back the way we had come, and I edged closer to Mathias even as I tightened my grip on his dagger. That was not a good sound. Someone must have caught our trail or possibly our scent if the roar was from a shifter or any other paranormal that was more beast than human.

  A light touch on my arm drew my attention away from the foggy tunnel. Mathias was watching me, eyes shadowed but a faint frown still apparent. He nodded to the shadow. “We go.” He paused, seeming to consider his words, before he added in an undertone, “Practice, Lauren.”

  Before I could process his meaning, he’d stepped into the shadow. Vanishing until only his free hand remained, open and waiting. I looked from the grey tunnel behind us to the shimmering shadow and then shook my head. This was the sort of utter lunacy I’d hoped we’d be leaving behind. Knowing I didn’t have a choice, I placed my hand in Mathias’ outstretched one and gripped it tightly.

  Walking into the shimmering shadow was one of the most difficult things I’d forced myself to do. Instinctively taking a deep breath, I held it as I stepped into the shadow while Mathias pulled me forward. It felt different. It wasn’t like the squeezing sensation of the glamours or the horrible stinging burning of the glamour at the Colosseum. It was . . . more like stepping into a pool of warm water, faint warmth trickling around me as it enveloped me. Not squeezing, though, more of a sort of . . . cradling.