“There are lives depending on a lot of things, girl. We lost a lot of good men taking this worthless courtyard of yours, and now you want to rush into some tower and lose more? We aren’t grain to be cracked and ground into flour,” Zethul said. The dwarf’s eyes were hard.
“Cagle, please,” she said. “We have to help them. I promised. I need you to—”
Cutting her off with a stern look, Cagle drew the crystal dagger from his belt. He knew the dwarf well. Arguing will get us nowhere. There are better ways to push. “Zethul, have you ever seen anything like this?”
Slowly, the dwarf reached out and took the blade. His pipe flared orange and his eyes softened as his fingers traced over the crystal. There were torches all around, throwing light throughout the little square, and for the first time, Cagle could really see the dagger. The edges were thin, translucent, but the interior was dark and smoky like the ocean’s swirling depths. He looked closer.
It almost looks like there’s movement inside. Does this Shade creature somehow live in there?
“No joints. It’s a solid piece of crystal, and no tool marks, either.” Zethul touched the dagger’s tip to the stone. He dragged the weapon over it and it screeched painfully. He raised the dagger to study the point. Dust and flakes of gray rock covered the tip. “And hard enough to scratch stone. Most crystals would have shattered.”
“This is what they use to summon a deadly beast,” Cagle said. “They call it a Shade, a creature of mist and shadow, and they were going to use it on that boy.” He nodded to the redhead.
The boy stood with the soldiers, trying to lift one of the heavy dwarven weapons. The wounded men were laughing at him as he strained. One of them patted him on the shoulder. “There’s a priest hiding in there who planned on murdering that child to summon a monster to kill me. He has more children inside. Three at least. What if he has a second dagger?”
Zethul watched the boy for a minute. His pipe flared orange and hot again. A few stray embers burst free from the bowl and fled into the night air. The boy had given up on the hammer now, and the men were trying to teach him one of their songs. Zethul’s eyes turned hard.
“Fine. Let’s go see about this tower.”
CHAPTER 16
Forced Entry
Olinia followed Cagle and Zethul back to the Citadel and the concealed door. She wished the dwarf could run faster, but he pumped his arms for all he was worth. At least he can see in the dark. I’ve smacked my face twice now trying to go too fast.
Fifty feet back from the Citadel’s wall, they stopped. The archers in the windows were gone—all save one—but for light the Iridin had thrown down several torches along the wall’s base.
“They aren’t going to make it easy,” Cagle said. He pointed into the blackness. “We followed the priest’s trail right up to the tower’s base.”
“Can’t get any closer with that lookout up there. They’ll see us in the torchlight and we’ll have a dozen archers trying to stick us,” Zethul said. “Can either of you get him from here?”
Olinia looked up at the bowman. It has to be seventy feet, and none of us have bows. I don’t see how—
Cagle’s arm whipped forward. Olinia saw a flash of something smooth and round flash from his hand. It flew flat and true, striking with a loud smack, and the archer’s head pitched back. He sagged to his knees then fell out the window, dropping to the ground with a heavy whump.
“That’ll do,” Zethul said, eyebrows raised.
The three ran to the wall.
“Here, the blood trail ends right here.” Cagle tapped his sword on the drying splatter.
Zethul examined the blood on the ground first. Then he ran his fingers along the wall, touching every joint, tracing along over each stone. He shook his shaggy head. “I can’t feel any air. No gaps, either. Not one. If there’s a door, there has to be a gap or a mechanism of some kind.”
He put his ear to the stone, then gently touched the flat face of his warhammer to it. He moved to the right, then to the left, tapping, listening. “I can tell it’s hollow, but I can’t sense the mechanism. Might be spelled somehow. Whoever built this knew what they were doing.”
“There has to a way in,” Olinia said. The priest managed it somehow. And him missing the use of a hand.
“Maybe he signaled the tower and they opened it from inside,” Cagle said.
Screams came from behind them. Men were shouting in the square, and the clash of weapons rang out.
“They’ve reformed and come against the square again,” Cagle said.
Zethul hoisted his hammer.
“No, I’ll help them. Stay here and see if you can find a way inside,” Cagle said.
“My men are dying. I should be with them, not here.” Zethul gave him a dark look.
Cagle’s look was twice as hard. “We need to take this tower. Aside from our concerns about this Shade, I’m sure the city leaders are inside. If we don’t get in there quickly, every man and woman in Washougle will rally against us within days. How many men will we lose then?”
“Fine,” Zethul said.
“Olinia, don’t do anything rash. Once you find a way in, wait for me,” Cagle said before running off at a blur for the square.
“How does he do that?” Olinia asked. “How does he move so fast, and how did he kill the bowman?”
Ignoring her, Zethul went back to tapping at the wall. He reminded Olinia of a woodpecker searching for the softest part of an oversized tree. “He hit the bowman in the head with a rock.”
“From so far?” Olinia was dubious. The archer had been at least seventy feet up, and they’d been fifty feet from the tower. Throwing a rock that far and hard enough to kill, or at least to knock the guard out, would take incredible strength.
The dwarf ignored her. Tap-tap-tap. His hammer sounded. Tap-tap-thunk.
“What was that?” Olinia asked.
Thunk-thunk-tap, the dwarf searched with his hammer. “Here’s the edge of the door. Still no mechanism,” he mumbled.
“Can’t you just beat the door down? That’s what you did at the gate.”
“The gate was wood. Not stone. This would take much longer.”
He felt at the stone with his hands again. Olinia heard a shout above.
They’ve finally noticed their missing archer.
An armored helm appeared at the window, peering down. The guard spotted them and then disappeared. There were more shouts from inside. “They’ve found us,” she said.
“Just a moment,” Zethul said. He pushed and strained against various stones. A bowstring snapped above and an arrow clattered against the wall, just missing them.
One of the dropped torches lay nearby. Olinia grabbed it and threw it aside. A little less light can only help.
“Damned door,” the dwarf swore. He stepped back and swung his hammer for all he was worth. It struck the stone and sparks flew. He swung again and there were more sparks. Arrows kept clattering all around. A fragment of stone broke free.
The archer above suddenly cried out; he at clutched an arrow in his stomach and fell from the window. He landed on top of the first with a muffled crash.
Reeve and a pair of his hunters, each with their bows drawn, emerged from the dark, followed closely by Meagera and Vlan.
“Cagle sent us,” Meagera said.
“We’ve taken the city, then?” Olinia asked.
“There’s still fighting to do—a few scattered mages and troops—but yes, we have command of the city,” Meagera said. “Your brother has the army back whole again in the square and along the edge of the courtyard. The Iridin commander is trying to muster his own soldiers back together for a counterattack. If we can take their leaders quickly, it will be less bloody for everyone.”
Zethul ignored them. Again and
again, he swung the hammer, face a roaring red, sweat flying. A string of curses flew from his lips in a language Olinia didn’t understand. At last, he collapsed to his knees, unable to lift the hammer once more. For all his efforts, the dwarf had hacked out a hole in the stone almost a foot wide.
“Let me try,” Vlan said.
At the giant’s rumbling words, Zethul looked around, bewildered and seeming to notice them for the first time. “When did you get here?” he asked.
“A few minutes ago,” Meagera said. “You were so busy making that racket you didn’t hear us.”
Reeve offered his hand to Zethul, but the stubborn dwarf refused and stood on his own. He backed away from the door and Vlan stepped closer.
Leaning down, the giant lined up his own hammer, a plain piece of black iron twice the size of a smith’s anvil, with the same spot. He brought it back, then swung it in a downward arc. With one shot, he shattered the stone doorway.
Zethul looked at the broken stone, then up at the giant. “I loosened it up for you.”
Vlan gave a booming chuckle. With a huge hand, he reached in through the door and pulled out several handfuls of broken rubble.
Olinia started for the door. Meagera caught her by the arm.
“Your brother said you were to wait.”
“It’s been too long already. For all we know, the priest has already killed the others,” Olinia said. She had to save Melios and those boys. She couldn’t stand the thought of telling Agare her brothers had died while she waited for help outside.
“If he had, this Shade creature would be here. Without the dagger they’re of little use to him,” Meagera said.
“I have to go in anyway. I’ll be fine,” Olinia said. With that, she changed her face to match one of the dead bowmen. She didn’t have their clothing, but dressed as she was—a heavy cloak over plain leather armor—she was sure she could pass for one of the defenders easily enough.
“We’ll go with you,” Meagera said.
“No. I can slip by unnoticed if I go alone,” Olinia assured her. “Wait for Cagle.” She shrugged off the mage’s hand, took up one of the torches the Iridin had dropped to the tower’s base, and moved inside.
Olinia crept through the empty corridors. The Citadel’s base was a labyrinth of tunnels, intersecting and weaving and spiraling off in a dozen different directions. The gate she’d entered through last time was fifteen feet higher up the tower, and this lower level bore no relation to the first or any other floor she’d seen. There were no signs to guide her and the passages were dark, coated in a layer of sticky dust and framed by the occasional cobweb and long-legged spider. The dust made her task easier. She saw the priest’s tracks and bloodtrail plain. Though dried, the splatter glistened in her torchlight.
Doubtful he’s still down here, of course. All Zethul’s banging would have driven him higher. It’s a wonder there aren’t guards down here.
The floor beneath the tower wasn’t that large, and soon she came upon a passage to the next floor. The priest’s trail led up; Olinia followed.
After several landings, she faced an immediate decision. More stairs led up, but there was a door to the first floor, as well. The stairwell was swept clean here, and the dark floor hid the priest’s blood. She paused to think her next move through. Now that she was inside, the priest was her secondary concern. Her main mission was to rescue Melios and Agare’s brothers. She had to find and then free them.
Where would they keep prisoners?
There hadn’t been any cells on the floor below—not that she’d found, anyway. She couldn’t remember any from her previous trip in the Citadel. There was no help for it. In the end, she would have to check through every floor.
The door swung open without a sound into another hallway. Olinia walked in, head held high, like she belonged there. She heard men talking ahead in a room off to the left. She passed by their door without slowing.
“I tell you, there are monsters right out of legend out there. I saw one at least fifteen feet tall with a warhammer the size of an ox. They broke through the outer wall like it was nothing more than cloth,” a voice said.
Olinia kept walking. She found an armory and decided to pick up another dagger for herself. Her sword lay buckled over her back, but her own dagger had been lost in the earlier mayhem. Most of the corridors were narrow, and a sword could prove unwieldy. She considered a bow, but if she met anyone in charge, they might set her to watching one of the windows.
A myriad of weapons hung on racks along the walls, and she settled on a ten-inch dagger along with a well-balanced short sword to complement her own longer blade. She’d just finished belting the extra weapons on when she heard footsteps echoing in the corridor. She froze and listened.
Just go on by. Nothing to see in here.
The steps came closer. A boot scraped over the floor near the armory’s doorway.
“Is it true?” a voice asked her from behind.
“I’m sorry?” Olinia turned. He was young, barely old enough to shave, and he licked his lips nervously.
“Is it true the invaders have monsters out there?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any yet, but I have seen soldiers aplenty.”
“Whin says they have giants. He was at the wall when they broke through. I didn’t sign up to fight no giants.”
“I’m sure the army will push them back before they reach here,” Olinia said. “Did you see anyone wounded come this way? I found a blood trail and heard something about a wounded man.”
“Yeah,” the boy nodded. “The High Priest was injured out in the courtyard. His wrist was bleeding awful. What kind of men would harm a priest?”
What kind of priest murders children to summon a monster, Olinia wanted to say.
“Where did they take him? I’m usually out on the north wall. I don’t know my way around the Citadel too well.”
“Up to the third level. The healers are all there.”
“I also heard something about the tower guard capturing a prisoner. Where would they bring one of them?”
“Third level, as well. The cells are close to the south wall.”
“Thank you, soldier,” Olinia smiled.
The boy grinned back at her. Olinia walked past him, and then spun and struck him on the back of the head with her dagger hilt. He collapsed in a heap, and she dragged him behind a stack of barrels. He’d been helpful, and she didn’t want to kill him.
“There, that’ll keep you out of the way until this is over.”
She found a different stairwell at the far side of the tower and started up. This one was more active, a busy stream of men flowed in both directions, shouting orders, most carrying crates or small barrels of food, water, weapons, or other supplies the defenders would need.
Olinia joined the fray. She kept her head down and tucked in behind a big man with a stack of folded blankets, trying to move through it all without being noticed. Following the young soldier’s advice, she skipped the second floor and stepped out onto the third.
The first hallway was every bit as busy as the stairs. Wounded men, healers, orderlies carrying all manner of bandages, steaming mixtures in pots of every shape and size, and potions bustled about. Guards strode along, bumping and nudging into each other, often drawing curses and scornful looks.
Little chance I’ll find the priest in all of this.
The boy on the first floor had said the prisoners’ cells were on the south wall. By now, Olinia’s bearings were well and truly lost. She had no idea which way south lay.
An open window stood to her right, the evening air brushing over her cheek. An archer leaned out. He held his bow in one hand, his dinner in the other, a piece of coarse bread with a thick slice of fatty ham baked inside. He turned and saw her, offering a simple nod of the head.
He took a bite large enough to puff out his cheeks, started to chew, and then stared out the window again; he set his food on the sill, nocked an arrow to his cheek, and sent it shrieking below. He turned back to give her a mischievous little grin and took another bite.
He’s just killed one of my countrymen, maybe even my brother. Certainly, Cagle would be out there by now. Olinia’s hand found the hilt of her dagger. I should stick him, then push him out that damned window and let him die screaming. The guards would surely see her, though, and, fighting alone in the midst of so many, they’d swarm her like ants after a juicy grasshopper. In the end, she would accomplish nothing save killing one enemy.
Rescue Melios. Kill the High Priest. She could do more harm to them if she succeeded at both her tasks.
She ducked and dodged her way down the busy corridor, turning at the end into a quiet stretch of hallway. She passed several rooms—none looked occupied—and finally saw a pair of guards standing at attention at the next intersection. In the hall behind them she could see a number of doors branching off on either side. Each door had a heavy lock. Cells.
Olinia strode on down the hall past them without slowing. There was an empty window beyond the pair, and she took up a position there. She kept her face pointed out, but out of the corner of her eye she studied the guards. Both were alert, so no chance at taking them by surprise. Each wore a set of heavy armor, and they looked both fit and disciplined.
Usually, they put the dim-witted men to guard duty. Evidently this Marshal Krona was no fool.
Deciding that direct and to-the-point would best suit her purposes, Olinia returned and stopped in front of the pair. Their expressionless eyes took her in.
“I lost my bow. Snapped right in half shooting at the invaders. Either of you know where I can get another? I haven’t spent enough time in this damned labyrinth to learn my way around yet,” she said.
Sons of Plague: Tales of Kartha Book One Page 26