Aiden also moved to act, reaching for the scroll at his side and lifting it up, scanning the contents of the page briefly before reading the incantation. A faint ripple in the air accompanied the ignition of the parchment, indicating that his careful reading had resulted in success. When the ripple enveloped the assassin the result was less than he’d hoped for. Holister seemed to hesitate for only a moment before continuing the fight, shrugging off the incantation with sheer force of will.
Pacian sensed a moment of confusion in the assassin’s rhythm and took full advantage, leaping forward like a cat and stabbing him in the back. Holister staggered from the blow and cried out in shock, yet still managed to slam his elbow into Pacian’s face.
He stumbled backwards with blood flowing freely from his nose, but his efforts had not gone unrewarded – the distraction allowed Nellise to crack her staff into his arm, shattering bone and forcing him to drop his dagger.
It was a minor victory, for the man was almost as deadly with his sword alone, but his brimming confidence had been destroyed. The haunted look on his clean-shaven face spoke volumes about his new perspective on this fight.
Snarling with barely controlled rage, he pressed the attack against Nellise, who struggled to keep his sword at bay. More than once the assassin feigned an attack at her torso, but then changed the angle of the strike to hit her unprotected legs, cutting through her robes and drawing blood.
Aiden looked over at Sayana, hoping she had enough left in her to assist the cleric, but she was struggling to regain her footing and exhaustion weighed heavily on her features. It would be suicide to go against Holister in her condition, leaving her with only one option to help.
She set aside her axe and lifted her arms, with the faint light of energies surging along the markings visible on her exposed body. The energy faded again as she slumped, too weak to invoke the power within. Instead of giving up, however, Sayana seemed to be thinking about something, a process that appeared interminable as Nellise fought for her life mere yards in front of her.
And then something astonishing happened.
The feeble light in the room dimmed as Sayana lifted her arms again, and the dimming was accompanied by a strange tingling sensation in the air around Aiden that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
The lights on Sayana’s body began to coalesce once more and this time, built to the point that she was able to invoke a torrent of flame. She sent it streaming at Holister, who roared in pain and surprise as his clothing burned. He fell to the ground and rolled around in an effort to put it out. Nellise didn’t give him time to react however, and struck at him with her staff again and again until he ceased struggling.
Aiden was taken aback by the brutal display. Nellise breathed heavily from the exertion with blood dripping from her weapon. Her face was a mask of hatred, and it seemed like as though was about to continue the assault, yet something held her back. The battered assassin looked up at her with something akin to terror, his burnt hands held up in submission, awaiting the final strike which did not come.
“Finish it,” Pacian growled, regaining his footing and coming to stand near Nellise. “He’s a piece of low-life filth, just like those monsters who raped you in the cave, and he’s got nothing to say to us but lies.” The cleric held the end of the quarterstaff over his face, poised to strike.
“We’ve won,” Aiden said, his voice little more than a whisper. “There’s no need to kill him. He might be able to tell us who’s behind this.”
“He’ll lie and try to weasel his way out of this,” Pacian contested. It occurred to Aiden that Pace could easily have done the deed himself, but he seemed to be more interested in convincing Nellise to do it.
“He’s a wanted man,” Aiden continued from across the room. “There’s no way he’s going to walk away. Let him live, and we’ll learn what we can before he gets thrown in prison.” Nellise continued to hesitate for a moment longer, and then let out a loud sob as her shoulders slumped. Turning away from the battered man, she walked over to a wall and leaned back against it, sliding down to the floor, crying softly.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Pacian growled, readying his dagger to finish off the assassin but caught at the last moment by Ronan, who held back the thrust.
“Aiden says we talk to him, and that might be hard to do if he’s dead,” he said evenly to Pacian. The two men locked eyes for a tense moment, until Pacian relented and backed away.
“Thank you for my life,” Holister croaked as Aiden hobbled over to stand before him. Looking around, Aiden saw a nearby chair that hadn’t been damaged in the fight, so he pulled it over and sat down.
“Who hired you to kidnap the princess?” he asked bluntly, having no inclination to bandy words with this man.
“I don’t know their names,” the assassin replied. “We don’t talk directly, just through papers left at a certain place at a pre-arranged time.”
“Told you,” Pacian said sarcastically, which Aiden chose to ignore.
“Show me these papers,” Aiden ordered, and Holister directed his gaze to a table nearby. There were a few sheaves of paper near the lantern, which Ronan picked up and idly browsed.
“There’s not a lot here,” he reported, “just a few brief sentences about times and places.” He took out the note they’d retrieved from the assassins in the alleyway and compared the two. “The handwriting is identical. Number One strikes again.” Aiden nodded and considered this for a moment, then moved onto the next topic of interest.
“It seems you and your lackeys were expecting us,” he stated. “How did you know we were coming?”
“My employer wishes you dead,” Holister said, breathing heavily, “and being the heroes of Culdeny I figured you might be kind of tough, so I made plans to lure you here. It wasn’t difficult to convince the thieves’ guild to send you our way, given the alternative was their death.”
“Perry,” Ronan remarked ominously. “That son of a bitch played us. All that time he needed to ‘think about it’ was bullshit.”
“Don’t judge him harshly, I didn’t make it easy for him,” Holister coughed. “Can I get my wounds looked at? You wouldn’t want me to die before I tell you everything, right?” Aiden didn’t answer right away, as he was fuming over Perry’s betrayal.
“Maybe I should just let you die here, slowly,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice. “How does that sound?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Holister replied blandly. “I may be a proper bastard, but I like living too. What will it take for me to keep breathing?”
“Your total co-operation, of course,” Aiden informed him. “Who were those robed warriors?”
“Associates from down south,” the assassin answered. “I was in retirement when I got news of this job, and most of my old crew were dead or out of reach, so I had to recruit some help. They’re some sort of religious fanatics that worship the old god of death, but they’re basically just assassins when you get right down to it. The sleeping poison is theirs.”
“And that blast of black energy that hit me?”
“They have eerie powers,” Holister replied dryly. “Honestly, I don’t know as much about them as I should, but they were available for a mere pittance, so I brought them on board.” Aiden pondered this for a moment, but mentally filed it away for later consideration.
“How much were you paid?”
“Five thousand gold sovereigns,” Holister answered, drawing a low whistle from Ronan and a look of incredulity from Aiden. “I wasn’t keen on taking this job, but the offer just kept going up until I couldn’t say no.”
“That’s a staggering amount of gold,” Aiden breathed. “Who could possibly afford it?”
“Aside from the King? Probably only three people in the entire city. Senator Augustus Johnson, Ronald Bartlett and Lady Aryssa Chelsea.”
“Bartlett’s dead,” Aiden informed him. “I assume the rest of his family still has the bulk of his wealth, and God knows the man was invol
ved in this from the beginning, but there has to be someone else involved for this to still be in motion.”
“Yes, his brother, Thomas Bartlett,” Holister said. “He lives in a modest place in the north of the city, and he’s a likely candidate. Senator Johnson is a shifty one, and he’s been accused of shady dealings behind the scenes so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved somehow too.”
“Where do I find him?”
“You’d either have to gain entry to the Senate, or go break into his mansion,” Holister breathed. “It’s in the north-eastern side of the city. Good luck getting in there, though.”
“Why’s that?” Ronan asked, frowning.
“It’s some sort of historical mansion. The gate is covered in arcane runes and nothing short of obtaining the proper key will get you in there.”
“I have to say, I’m surprised to find you so… co-operative,” Aiden remarked.
“You beat me,” Holister shrugged, somewhat awkwardly considering his injuries. “My operation is ruined and as I said, I’d like to keep living, if at all possible.”
“There’s more to it,” Pacian added from nearby. “He’s not telling you everything, I guarantee it.”
“In that case I think we’ll let Mister Kinsey take it from here,” Aiden replied, drawing a less than cheerful look from the beaten assassin. “So you remember him, yes? That’s who you’re going to have to deal with if you don’t talk to me.”
“I swear, that’s all I know,” Holister said emphatically.
“Where were those other robed men going when we came in?” Aiden persisted.
“Escaping of course,” came the reply. “That door leads up to the streets, so they’ve already disappeared into the night by now.”
“I see,” Aiden nodded. “I have one last question. The plan, as I understand it, was to kidnap the princess in Bracksford. You and your people were never meant to see her, and yet you’ve been here in the city for at least a week… which means you were hired for some other reason. Explain it to me.” Holister stared back at Aiden for a long moment before answering.
“You’re a sharp one, I’ll give you that,” he said, “but I can’t answer that question so you’d better just take me to Kinsey… unless of course you’ve got the stomach to get the information out of me.”
“He doesn’t, but I do,” Pacian said, leering at the beaten assassin.
“Kinsey would be more than happy to take it from here,” Aiden finished evenly, ignoring Pacian once more.
They were a weary group indeed as they made their way out of the complex. Valennia and Sir William had finally come around, though they were still quite intoxicated. Maggie was sound asleep, and could not be woken so Val carried her instead. Sayana was surprisingly energetic after the fight, and Aiden speculated that the strange light-dimming effect was involved somehow.
They made their way upstairs and upon opening the front door to the old building, the group was treated to the sight of a heavy snowfall that blanketed the streets in a thick white powder. Aiden had lost track of the time during their time underground, but it was obviously deep into the night.
“We’re in the docklands,” Ronan remarked, looking out onto the street. “We’re fortunate it’s snowing out there – it’ll keep the streets clear. Come on gorgeous, you can go first,” he said to Holister.
The assassin was too injured to complain, and staggered outside to be marched through the streets with Ronan’s sword at his back. Valennia shivered in the frigid conditions, for her tattered halter top was the only thing ‘protecting’ her torso from the elements. Aiden gave her his longcoat, which she gratefully accepted.
By the time the Fair Maiden Inn appeared through the thick snowfall, they were all properly chilled and eager to go inside, but they were intercepted by a familiar looking man with a cane, and two City Watchmen.
“Mister Wainwright, I do believe you have something that belongs to me,” Kinsey greeted them.
“How did you know we’d be coming here tonight?” Aiden asked as his companions filed back inside the inn.
“I may be blind below ground, but on these streets little escapes my notice,” the spymaster replied, gesturing for his aides to take Holister into custody. “Congratulations on your success. I must admit I was surprised to learn of exactly who you were parading through the streets.”
“It’s not over,” Aiden warned. “Some of his associates got away, and he knows more that he isn’t telling us.”
“I’ll see if I can inspire his further co-operation,” Kinsey said. “Get some rest and see to your injuries, Aiden. I will contact you again shortly for a proper debriefing.” Aiden nodded, and watched the spymaster walk Holister away until they disappeared into the night. Pacian was the only one still standing outside with him, and an awkward silence descended.
“Are we okay?” Pacian asked softly.
“I guess,” Aiden replied absently. “I can’t really expect you to not be you, but you need to learn some limits. If Nellise had killed him, we’d never have learned anything.”
“There’s no guarantee that what he said is the truth,” Pacian cautioned. “Hell, he was probably filling our heads with fanciful tales just to buy his associates some time to get away.”
“Maybe,” Aiden answered dubiously. “I hope Kinsey has better luck with him than we did. Let’s get inside, I’m freezing.”
“Oh, here are your goggles back,” Pacian said, taking the device off his head and handing them back to Aiden. One look from the soft lantern light showed they were covered in the same thick, sticky substance, Pacian was smeared with from his time crawling through the narrow tunnel.
“Why don’t you hang on to them,” Aiden drawled as they walked into the welcome warmth of the inn.
Chapter Sixteen
The thought of ascending the stairs to their rooms was too much, so they collapsed on the sofas near the fire. Maggie was still sound asleep from the effects of the poison, the tiny druid having taken a proportionally larger dose than anyone else. Nobody was able to bring her around, so they left her on a couch to sleep it off.
Nellise undertook the task of seeing to their injuries alone. They were a mess of lacerations, abrasions and bruises after the battle, and everyone had to pitch in to help out where they could. Aiden slowly peeled off his plated leathers and undershirt, doing his best to avoid re-opening any clotted wounds. Bowls of hot water, spirits and clean bandages were provided by the inn’s sole remaining waitress. She had been cleaning up after a busy night before Aiden and his companions came through the door.
“How’s your back?” Nellise asked while checking his bruised body for serious wounds.
“Sore, though no worse than the rest of me,” Aiden mumbled. “Better my back than my head. I could easily have split it open on the ceiling when that incantation sent me flying.”
“I’m deeply concerned about your use of those scrolls,” Nellise cautioned. “You’re playing with power that normally takes a decade or more to master, as if it were a child’s toy. One of these days it might backfire on you in a very permanent fashion.”
“Saved your life, didn’t I?” Aiden said with a wink, catching only the faintest glimpse of a smile on her delicate features. Although she tried to hide it, her golden eyes showed that the cleric was grappling with some weighty issues. “Nel, I -”
“Not now,” she quickly interrupted. She didn’t want to deal with it right now, so Aiden remained quiet and leaned back against the seat until she was done.
Once they had been bandaged up satisfactorily, they finally headed upstairs for a long overdue rest. Aiden slid into his bed and lay there for some time, exhausted but unable to sleep. It wasn’t that his mind was distracted by recent events or mysteries as yet unsolved, but rather a faint scratching noise from somewhere in the room that kept catching his attention. He tossed and turned for a few minutes, but if anything, this seemed to make the sound grow louder. Aiden finally threw off his covers and went over to an e
laborate dresser near the door and found the source of the noise.
A large hourglass was sitting on the dresser, the white sand contained within slowly sifting through from the top chamber to the bottom one, creating a noise far louder than should have been possible. Each grain of sand scraped at the others as it hit the growing pile at the bottom, and Aiden suddenly had the feeling he needed to be somewhere.
Looking up into a large mirror before him, he saw his own reflection in the near-darkness of his room, yet over his shoulder was a large, reptilian eye gazing directly at him, suspended in a cloud of shifting purple hues.
Gasping, Aiden turned around and saw a corridor leading away behind him, constructed of old stone and with a familiar darkness. Short tunnels led off either side as he crept along with the sound of a hollow wind sending a chill down his spine. The corridor twisted and turn, and before he knew it Aiden was lost in a maze, his heart racing and the feeling that he needed to be somewhere urgently filling his mind.
He came to an abrupt halt when he heard an ominous noise to his left, the sound of something heavy slamming into the ground. Dust fell from the ceiling as the entire corridor shook and slowly, his mouth dry, Aiden turned to look down one of the side tunnels. A dark, reptilian shape was silhouetted against the faint lantern light in the distance. Although he couldn’t make out any details, he knew it was looking right at him.
Aiden turned and saw another shape in the darkness watching him. His heart was pounding in his ears as his instinct to run flared up. He charged along the corridor through ankle-deep water, well aware from the sounds of heavy footsteps that he was being pursued.
The corridor turned and went down a wide staircase, which Aiden took three stairs at a time. Water flowed into the passage from above with the sounds of dragons approaching from behind him growing louder by the moment. Thinking quickly, Aiden turned and hid under the staircase, finding a small alcove that he could duck inside.
In Defence of the Crown (The Aielund Saga Book 2) Page 27