Sons of Plague: Tales of Kartha Book One

by Kade Derricks

  They looked at each other, and then one stepped a little forward. He pointed back down the direction she’d come from. “Take this corridor to the end and then cut back to your left. Go past the next two doors—”

  Olinia slammed the dagger into the man’s neck, then spun and struck at the second before the first body hit the floor. The second guard dodged back, lowering his spear as he did. The spear’s tip missed Olinia by scant inches as she rolled beneath it.

  She slashed at the guard’s stomach; her blade glanced off the heavy armor.

  He brought the spear around again, but she was too close. He swung the heavy butt up at her and it clapped her across the ribs. She fell back near the wall. He followed, the speartip held low and ready.

  At the last moment, Olinia jumped to the side. The guard swung the spear to catch her.

  The weapon, like the sword still slung across her back, was too long for the corridor. It crashed into the wall, the shaft splintering with the impact.

  Olinia reversed direction. Before the guard could draw his shortsword, her dagger punctured his armor through the side. She drew it back and slammed it in again, this time a hand’s width further up. The guard fell, lifeless.

  A ring of keys hung from the first guard’s belt, and she took them through the doorway. She had to hurry. The men were too heavy to move, and anyone crossing the corridor would surely notice two armored bodies.

  Cells stood on either side of the passage.

  “Melios,” she hissed. “Melios!”

  “He’s gone,” a frightened voice said. “They just took him.”

  Olinia followed the voice to one of the locked doors, stomach plunging with dread. She tried the first key. “Capo? Where is he?”

  “I’m not sure. I…I heard them mention a temple on the fourth floor.”

  They must have another dagger; some other way to bring the Shade out. Why else would they take him? I’ve got to get to Melios.

  The third key turned the lock and she opened the door. She barely recognized Capo and Thevon. Agare’s brothers were covered in dirt and dried blood from a multitude of cuts and nicks. “What happened to you?”

  “Who are you?” Thevon said. “Are you a friend of Olinia’s? She said she’d send help for us, her brother, but Melios didn’t believe her.”

  “Yes, I’m a friend of hers,” Olinia said. She’d almost forgotten her altered face and hadn’t the time to explain her tricks to them.

  “How are we going to get out of here?” Capo asked.

  Olinia stopped, unsure of herself.

  How am I going to get them out?

  Truthfully, she hadn’t planned that far ahead. She’d been so hell-bent on saving them that it never occurred to her how they’d escape. Sounds of rattling armor echoed once more up the hallway. They’d discover the bodies soon. Time was running out.

  “Are there any other children here?” she asked.

  “Just Huxen; the priest took him a couple of hours ago. We haven’t seen him since,” Capo said.

  “Redheaded?” Olinia asked.

  “That’s him,” Capo said.

  “Good. He’s safe with some friends of mine.” Olinia hoped that was still true.

  More noises came from the hall; the fighting was close now. An Iridin ran into the cells. The archer from the window. His eyes were wild with fear. Olinia drew her short sword; he didn’t seem to see her, not even after she rammed the blade through his chest.

  What’s going on here?

  Another Iridin raced past the door, armor clattering, weaponless. A woman screamed.

  “Stay close behind me,” Olinia said. She held the sword ready and kept herself between the boys and the hall. “I’ll take care of whatever’s out there.”

  Another Iridin stumbled into the doorway. He stumbled and fell, face first, bleeding from his torn armor.

  “She has to be here somewhere,” a voice outside boomed. “Split up into groups and search every hall.”

  Olinia held the sword tight. They were looking for her. They knew she was on this floor, at least. She couldn’t let them take the boys. No matter what happened, she couldn’t let them have Agare’s brothers.

  They still have Melios, but I’ll not let the boys be taken.

  A head appeared around the door, about waist high. It was bearded and wearing a squat little helmet she recognized.

  “Dek,” she said. Olinia shifted her face back into her own.

  The dwarf stepped into the open door. He cupped his hands and shouted back down the hall. “I found her,” he yelled. Then he turned to face her again. He grinned. “I’ll bet you’re glad you waited for us in the city, aren’t you.”

  Olinia could have kissed him.

  CHAPTER 17

  The Lost

  Cagle raced through the Citadel, room by room, floor by floor, seeking his sister. Like a fool, she’d gone into the tower alone, searching for those boys the priest had taken for his grim sacrifice.

  I should have known she’d do it. I should have ordered Zethul or Meagera to make her wait.

  It wouldn’t have mattered. He knew his sister. Once she had her mind set, anything short of knocking her unconscious wouldn’t suffice.

  Iridin soldiers rushed at him—two abreast in the small corridor—and he cut them down. He crashed through the tower like a rogue wave, flowing around and over opponents, capsizing each with a quick sword thrust or sweeping slash, moving to the next, leaving a trail of debris-strewn chaos in his wake. Despite the long day and what now felt like hours of fighting, he was still faster than his enemies, stronger, too, but his sword was slowing. The blade had grown heavy and his muscles burned with fatigue. He felt so tired. It seemed even he had his limits. Only the urge to kill remained, burning hot and bright.

  “I found her!” a voice echoed to his left.

  Cagle turned down yet another hallway. Three bodies, bleeding, lay strewn across the floor, and a pair of women screamed when they saw him. They fled down the corridor’s end, turned, and vanished. Dek, one of Zethul’s dwarves, waved a hand from a doorway off the main hall.

  The dwarf stepped out into the open, followed by Olinia and a pair of painfully gaunt boys, each quite a bit shorter than his sister. She held them close around their thin shoulders.

  Though he wanted to be angry with her, he was too relieved to find his sister alive for it. “These your friends?” he asked.

  “Capo, Thevon, this is my baby brother.”

  “Nice to meet friends of my sister,” Cagle said.

  Both boys stared up at him, mouths open. They huddled close to Olinia, clutching at her pant legs. With the back of his hand, Cagle wiped at his face. His hand came away covered in blood.

  Scaring children. I must look a fearful mess.

  “I thought you said there were three boys?”

  “Melios is still missing. He’s up on the fourth floor. There’s a temple there. The priest may be getting ready to sacrifice him. Thevon thought he saw him carrying another of the daggers.”

  “We can’t allow that,” Cagle said. “Dek, take these boys back to the first floor. Everything should be clear behind me. Zethul has the other one there. Olinia and I will clear our way up.”

  “You should wait for the others. They’ll be here soon,” the dwarf said.

  Do all dwarves argue? Cagle wondered. Honestly, I don’t know how they get anything of note accomplished.

  “I sent most of them up the first stairwell. They are fighting their way toward the roof to stop those ballistae,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”

  The dwarf nodded.

  Olinia knelt down in front of the boys. “Capo, you and Thevon go with Master Dek here. He’ll show you down to your friend, Huxen, on the first floor. You’ll be safe there. I have to
go save Melios.”

  Safe as anywhere, Cagle thought. The Iridin had organized and struck back hard at his army. They wouldn’t win, of course. Cagle’s men had them outnumbered, and he would bet on any of his own, excluding Huir’s, against any three of theirs.

  “Let’s go, boys,” Dek said. He led the two back the way Cagle had come. “I’ll tell you about my cousin Zethul. You’ll meet him below. He’s got a warhammer like you’ve never seen...”

  The dwarf’s voice trailed off as he shepherded the boys around the corner and disappeared.

  “The stairway I came up is clogged with troops,” Cagle said. “Is there another way up to the fourth?”

  “Yes, follow me,” Olinia answered. She turned down the hallway and then again at the next one. Cagle paused to look out a window.

  Rain fell over Washougle in great drenching sheets; the sky flashed and thundered. Forked bolts lit parts of the city in white flashes. Cagle saw the Yoghens spread out below, some distance from the Citadel and holding scattered intersections. A few brave Iridin charged them and were quickly beaten back. Smoke rose from parts of the city; luckily, the driving rain would put out the fires.

  Sap the will out of the Iridin, too. Soldiers hate fighting in the rain.

  “This way,” Olinia said.

  They entered another stairwell—this one was empty—and started to climb. Cagle took his sister by the arm and moved in front of her. Tired as he was, he wanted to face the danger first.

  The door out to the fourth floor lay open. He went through. He heard men yelling and shouting all around, but the hall they stood in was empty.

  “Left or right?” he asked.

  “Right.”

  Cagle moved fast, clearing rooms on either side with quick glances. They navigated a few corridors and intersections, seeing no one. Olinia directed him to another long hallway. It too was empty. This part of the tower seemed to be abandoned. The fighting must have drawn everyone into the other one.

  At the hall’s end they found yet another nondescript corridor.

  How did anyone find their way through this damned maze?

  “The temple is just beyond the next doorway. Go straight through, then to the left,” Olinia said.

  Swords held bare, they continued on. At the last turn they stumbled across more soldiers. A group of armored men, weapons drawn, stood between them and a pair of white doors.

  Cagle’s sword took the first before he had time to raise his spear. He slapped the second man’s spear aside, slashed at his legs, and then moved to the next. One slipped by with only a scratch, and he heard Olinia’s sword crash across his armor.

  The last soldier managed to parry two of Cagle’s attacks with his sword; the third strike sent his weapon spinning away, though, and Cagle rammed his blade through the man’s breast. He looked back over his shoulder to see Olinia approaching. Moving with a limp, she had a nasty cut across her side.

  That was my fault. I should have finished them all.

  “It’s nothing. Go on. Finish this,” she said, breathing heavily.

  Cagle nodded. The best thing he could do for his sister was to capture the city’s leaders, including this priest, and then get a healer for her.

  He opened the door. Save for a few torches, the temple was dark. The flickering light glinted off gold lettering on the columns and benches. Near the back of the temple, near a raised dais, three men stood: one in full armor, another a great, hulking man dressed in an expensive-looking cloak, and the priest with a bandaged wrist. The priest held a black crystal dagger; an exact duplicate of the weapon Cagle had already recovered. A fourth person, bound and hooded, knelt on the floor beside the priest. His quickened breath rippled the cloth of his hood.

  “I told you we were not to be disturb...” The biggest man’s voice trailed off. His eyes widened at the sight of Cagle and Olinia.

  “Krona,” the priest said. “That’s him, the man from the courtyard. He’s a devil!”

  “Give it up, gentlemen. The tower has fallen. There will be no summoning tonight,” Cagle said.

  “We’ll see about that,” Krona said. Black-haired with a scattering of white-grey and eyes dark as coal, for some reason, his features tickled at Cagle’s memory. Krona drew his sword and, along with the smaller man, charged.

  The hungry beast that had grown stronger and stronger inside Cagle since the crystal had sunk into his skin growled with glee as he met them halfway. He caught both their swords with his own and heaved them back. His shoulders ached with the effort. The Iridin surprised him. Immediately, they both recovered and rallied to protect the priest.

  The smaller man did most of the fighting, but Krona used his longer reach to strike from the opposite side. Cagle circled, trying to keep them grouped together. He batted the small man’s sword aside leaving the Iridin’s side exposed. Cagle swung, but the Marshal was there, blocking it at the last moment with vicious strength.

  Cagle retreated back.

  Krona’s sword came from out of nowhere, and Cagle barely ducked in time. Then the other Iridin struck low and fast. His sword drew blood along Cagle’s ribs. The Iridin smiled and swung again as Krona brought his sword around from the other side.

  Sparks flying, Cagle battered back their swords, but they managed to hold him to the room’s center. His lungs pumped liquid pain with every breath and his blood felt aflame.

  I don’t have time for this. My strength is failing. I need to reach the priest.

  With a surge of brute strength that came from Creator knew where, he fought his way to the first row of benches and kicked one forward. The armored man avoided it, but the bench skidded over the floor, slamming both the priest and the hooded sacrifice aside.

  Krona and the other man pressed him back once more. These two weren’t like the other Iridin he’d faced. Both were skillful opponents, and they knew how to work together. One attacked while the other defended and they stayed far apart, well out of each other’s way.

  Where is Olinia? Cagle wondered. He took his eyes off the pair for a second to see her leaning against the door, squeezing her injured side.

  The distraction cost him. He missed parrying Krona’s sword, and it caught him near the elbow.

  He faltered back, and the smaller man grew too eager. Cagle dodged a wicked slash and brought his own sword around low and fast. The blade hissed as it tore open the Iridin’s stomach.

  Ignoring his fallen comrade, Krona pressed the attack. Cagle’s left arm hung useless, and yet he managed to parry. Trying to force his sword through, the big man leaned in against Cagle’s blade.

  Cagle collapsed to his knees. His strength had fled. His arm bled freely and he struggled to keep his eyes open. By the Creator, he was tired.

  Krona stepped close, bringing more of his great weight to bear. Both swords slipped lower, crossing just inches from Cagle’s head.

  Cagle willed his arm to hold, to push back and gain some room. It refused. He had to get up; he had to finish this and save his people. Save his sister. Failure here meant the end of the lowlands. He had to rise. He shoved, and Krona held him fast.

  “You are strong. No doubt about that,” Krona rumbled. “If I had my full armor, though, you’d be dead already. I’m going to kill you now,” the big man continued almost conversationally, as if discussing the weather or what to eat for the noonday meal. “No need to worry about the Shade.”

  Closing his eyes, Cagle prepared himself for the end. He had nothing left. Even with all his newfound strength, he had failed.

  Then the pressure lifted away. He opened his eyes. Marshal Krona lay on the ground in front of him, sprawled out and unconscious.

  “Told you I’d save you, baby brother,” Olinia said. She stood over Krona’s fallen body with an arm’s length of broken chairleg clutched in her bloody fis
t.

  Olinia started limping her way down the temple’s center aisle, her eyes fixed on the priest. He stood behind a teenage boy, hood gone now, with bound hands. The crystal dagger’s edge dimpled the skin at the boy’s neck.

  “Stay back. I warn you. I will summon the Shade here,” the priest said.

  Olinia didn’t speak. She kept limping relentlessly closer.

  Cagle dropped his heavy sword and reached for the bench in front of him. He pulled himself upright. His left arm still hung by his side in a blood-soaked, lifeless mess.

  “Surrender, priest, and we’ll let you live,” he said. He didn’t know if his sister would honor that promise—doubted it, in fact—but he needed to buy her enough time to get closer.

  “I think not. I think—”

  The clap of footsteps came from outside. “By the Creator,” a gravelly voice said.

  The priest’s eyes brightened. He looked toward the door and his mouth formed a wicked grin. “It seems you don’t have the Citadel yet. It is you who should surrender.”

  The door opened. The priest’s grin slipped from his face. For an instant, he froze, and the boy elbowed him in the stomach, then dropped to his knees. Olinia lurched forward. Her dagger shot forward into the priest’s exposed chest. The priest fell, and Olinia collapsed alongside him.

  “No! Master!” someone screamed.

  A hunchback scrambled from a side room Cagle hadn’t noticed. Wailing aloud, he knelt and cradled the priest’s head.

  “I will avenge you, Master,” he murmured. He looked at Olinia. He raised his hands.

  He held the second crystal dagger.

  “No!” Cagle screamed.

  The dagger started down for his sister. Olinia raised her hands feebly; she couldn’t stop him. The boy—still bound around the wrists—threw himself between the two. The dagger caught him over the heart. He gurgled and fell, and the hunchback roared in frustration. He tried to tear the crystal blade free but it refused to budge.