Oracle (Book 5)

by Ben Cassidy

  Waiting. He hated it. Always had. Better to be staring down a demon of the Void.

  Kendril turned his head back towards the line of the ocean. He could just barely make out the whitecaps of the waves as they crashed onto the beach.

  He half-expected to see her again, standing alone on the beach. Half of him wanted to, the other half was terrified that he would. Her memory haunted this place.

  But the beach was empty. At least as far as Kendril could see in the inky darkness. No ghosts, at any rate.

  The sooner he was out of Jothland, the better. It was hard to come back, harder than Kendril had expected. The strength of the memories here…they had a power all their own.

  Kendril shivered in the icy wind. He glanced back up the lonely stretch of beach.

  Marley and Simon were somewhere back up there, off the beach and out of sight among the tall trees.

  Kendril was starting to think that Marley was more of a burden than a help. He should have left him behind in New Marlin, and spared himself the trouble of having the old salt following him around.

  Still, it was nice to have a manservant again, even an incompetent one.

  And to be honest, Kendril rather liked having the company, even if Marley did nothing much but complain constantly. After travelling with Maklavir, Joseph, and Kara for so long, Kendril had to admit that he had gotten used to jokes and stories around the campfire, and having someone else around him. Well, someone besides Simon, anyways.

  Kara.

  Kendril licked his lips, feeling the cold sting of sea spray on his face.

  He had shot her, right in front of Joseph and Maklavir. There was no other choice, of course. The demon Indigoru had possessed her, and if Kendril hadn’t acted immediately the Seteru would only have grown more powerful. As it was she had almost killed Joseph.

  And yet, it weighed heavily on him. He had promised Joseph he would keep Kara safe. Instead he had almost killed her.

  Killed her. Just like—

  No.

  Kendril shook his head furiously. Some things didn’t bear thinking about. Not here of all places. The ghosts were too near.

  Kendril turned his head back to look down the beach once more. Still no sign of Tomas. As much as Kendril disliked his fellow Ghostwalker, he had to admit that the man moved like a living shadow.

  “You’re lucky I’m not a Jombard,” came a soft voice right behind Kendril’s ear. “You’d already be dead.”

  Kendril craned his head around, trying not to show the surprise he felt. “Tomas. Took you long enough.”

  The Ghostwalker slid into the tangle of rocks beside Kendril. He pushed his hood back away from his matted hair. He was soaking wet, and reeked strongly of brine.

  Kendril pushed to the side to make room for the other man. “Find anything?”

  “Yeah.” Tomas pointed casually with his dagger, across the beach towards the dark cliffs ahead. “The big cave on the lower left. It goes back in for quite some ways. There’s a group in there. Staying quiet and out of sight for the most part.”

  Kendril felt the thrill of impending battle rise up inside of him. “Jombards?”

  Tomas lowered the dagger, but kept it in his hand. The blade had been darkened with something that prevented it from shining in the pale starlight. “I think so. They were speaking in a strange tongue. There are two sentries hiding in the rocks by the cliff’s edge. They weren’t dressed like anyone from Redemption. Trousers, war paint. One was wearing a wolf skin.”

  Kendril spat onto the rocks. “A Berserker. Just our luck. Hopefully there’s only the one.” He turned to face Tomas in the darkness, a new level of respect in his voice. “You got past the two sentries?”

  Tomas gave a weary nod. “Made it a little ways into the cave, but then I had to turn back. There’s a heap of them inside. I would guess at least a dozen.”

  “Bronwyn?”

  “There was a woman’s voice towards the back.” Tomas clucked his tongue. “But I didn’t see her.”

  Kendril leaned back against a sharp rock, thinking. “Good enough. We’ll have to do this quick and quiet, at least as long as we can. Bronwyn’s the priority. We get in, grab her, and get out.”

  Tomas was quiet for a moment. “You and me? Against a dozen Jombards?”

  Kendril smiled. “Yeah, I feel kind of sorry for them too. Not really fair.”

  Tomas gave a somber shake of his head. “You got a real death wish, don’t you Kendril?”

  Kendril pulled out one of his pistols and checked the flint by touch in the darkness. “I told you already, Eru won’t let me die.”

  “Is that what we’re counting on?” Tomas’ voice was thick with sarcasm. “Your invulnerability?”

  “That, and the element of surprise.” Kendril gave a satisfied grunt and returned the weapon to its holster.

  “I’d feel better with some solid reinforcements behind our back,” Tomas said carefully. “If we’re going to storm the place it would be good to have some friends behind us.”

  Kendril pulled out his second pistol and checked it as well. “Like who? You see anyone in town who would be willing to help out two Ghostwalkers clear out a cave of Jombards?”

  “The town militia, surely.”

  Kendril shook his head. He rubbed some of the salt spray off his cheek. “Redemption’s almost a day’s march away. By the time we get here and get back, Bronwyn might well be gone.”

  “So your solution is to charge in right now against overwhelming odds?” Tomas sighed. “I’m beginning to see why you and Olan hate each other so much.”

  Kendril smirked. “Olan’s an idiot. Trust me, I know what I’m doing here. This will be easy.”

  “All right.” Tomas got up, his face hidden in the darkness of the night. “But like you said, we do this quick and quiet. My way, not yours. No pistols blazing. Quick knife work will be best. You got one?”

  Kendril felt instinctively for the short swords buckled at his belt. “My swords. They will probably—”

  “No.” Tomas raised his hood, and his face vanished completely into blackness. “You’ll need a knife, something short.” He reached into the folds of his cloak, and pulled out a long dagger with a dulled finish. “You know how to kill a man from behind?”

  Kendril took the dagger. The weight of the weapon felt ridiculously light in his hand. “I can kill a man face to face or with his back to me. Either way is fine by me.”

  Tomas gave a heavy sigh. “No. This isn’t about killing. This is about stealth. Staying quiet. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

  Kendril felt his face burn. He gripped the handle of the dagger. “Anything you can do, I can do too.”

  “We’ll see.” Tomas slipped down onto the soft sand of the beach. “Stay behind me, walk where I walk, and don’t make any noise.”

  Kendril muttered something unkind under his breath, then jumped down next to Tomas.

  “Stay low,” Tomas said, his voice almost inaudible over the crashing surf. “And for Eru’s sake don’t shoot off one of those pistols.”

  “Yes, mother,” Kendril snipped.

  They headed off together across the dark beach, moving like two shadows in the dark.

  The beach was a mixture of sand, rocks, and scattered shells. Try as he might, Kendril couldn’t seem to take a step without hearing a loud crunch underneath his boot that made him wince. His own breath thundered in his ears, louder than the ocean. He twisted the dagger handle in his hand, wishing for the more solid grip of one of his swords. Several times he stepped with a loud splash into a tide pool or puddle.

  Tomas turned once, and Kendril could see his eyes glaring at him even underneath the shadow of his hood.

  The light was poor on the beach, and Kendril felt as if he was stepping blindly. There was little way of knowing what was underneath him. The terrain in front of him seemed to rise up like ghostly apparitions. He found himself wishing for the full moon that had lit the harbor back in New Marlin, instead of this near pitch
blackness.

  Tomas stopped at a tumble of fallen driftwood, and signed something back to Kendril.

  Kendril nodded as if he understood, even though he had no idea what Tomas was trying to say.

  Tomas pointed with two fingers straight ahead, on the other side of the fallen driftwood.

  That much Kendril got. He lifted his dagger and nodded again.

  Tomas slid forward, melding into the darkness of the deep shadows.

  Kendril made a face, then crept around the other side of the driftwood, much more noisily than he would have hoped. He peered anxiously ahead of him, trying to make out any abnormal shapes.

  In the blackness of some large tumbled boulders just ahead, the shape of a man leaning on a spear began to take form to Kendril’s untrained eyes.

  Kendril took a deep breath, clutched his dagger tightly, and moved forward.

  This wasn’t his style. He hated sneaking around like this, like a thief or burglar. And, in fairness, he wasn’t very good at it. At all.

  Kendril risked a furtive glance to his right, but he couldn’t see Tomas or the second sentry. He hoped to Eru that he wasn’t sneaking up on the same man that Tomas was.

  There was no sound, just the relentless crash of the breakers on the rocky beach. It filled Kendril’s ears like a pulsing heartbeat.

  He crept nearer. Nearer.

  The Jombard began to take more shape. He was tall, standing among the boulders like a silent statue. Both his hands rested on a spear that was planted in the ground in front of him. He wore simple trousers. A shield, probably wooden, hung on his back.

  Kendril frowned. With the shield the Jombard would be impossible to stab in the back. Kendril would have to go for the throat. A quick, savage strike.

  The guard shifted slightly. He looked down the beach.

  Kendril froze. His hand was sweaty, despite the chill in the air. A drizzle had started up again, and Kendril realized with a start that between the rain and the spray off the sea his cloak was soaked through. He ground his teeth and stepped forward.

  Closer. Closer. He was just a few steps away now.

  Kendril tensed his arm. A hand over the man’s mouth, the knife in his throat. Quick, and no sound.

  Something crunched underneath his boot.

  The guard snapped his head around.

  Ashes. So much for stealth.

  Kendril hurled himself forward.

  He slammed into the sentry. Both of them crashed forward onto the sharp rocks of the beach.

  Kendril tried to drive his knife down towards the guard’s throat.

  Fighting like a cornered wolf, the Jombard grabbed Kendril’s wrist, pushing the blade away. He slammed his hand into Kendril’s face, and pushed his head back.

  Snarling, Kendril grabbed at the man’s face with his own free hand. He couldn’t see with the hand over his own face. He slammed his knee down into the Jombard’s stomach, then bit two of the man’s fingers as hard as he could.

  The Jombard screamed. The sound was muffled by Kendril’s hand over his face.

  Kendril felt the blood lust come over him. He drove the dagger down in a frenzy, driving it towards the Jombard’s throat.

  For a moment they struggled, tangled limbs in their life and death struggle in the night. Kendril felt the tearing sharp rocks on his knees, the taste of the man’s blood in his mouth where he had bit his fingers. He ground his teeth together, pushed harder on the dagger.

  The blade punched down into the man’s throat.

  The Jombard lurched. His body convulsed. Once, twice. He made a low, gurgling sound, then went limp.

  Panting, Kendril yanked the dagger loose and collapsed to the side. He was bleeding from a shallow cut across his face, where the man’s fingernails had raked him. The spear had rolled off to the side, and Kendril found himself sitting on it. He pushed away and leaned up against a nearby rock.

  He wiped a glove hand across his face, still breathing heavily.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder.

  Kendril whirled, raising his dagger to strike.

  “It’s me,” Tomas cried. He ducked down behind the rocks. “Regnuthu take it, Kendril! Could you have made any more noise?”

  Kendril threw Tomas’ hand off his shoulder. “Guess we can’t all be perfect.” He glanced back towards the darkness pooling around the base of the cliff. “The other one?”

  “I got him,” Tomas affirmed. He glanced over the top of the boulders. “I hope to Eru no one in the cave heard all that commotion you made.”

  “I hope they did,” said Kendril with slightly more bravado then he felt. He spat the blood out of his mouth. “I prefer a straight-up fight to all this sneaking around.”

  “You may get your wish,” said Tomas. His voice was low and frigid.

  Kendril looked up quickly, one hand darting to his flintlock pistol.

  Tomas slid back down the side of rock. “They’re coming out of the cave.”

  Chapter 10

  Joseph reacted without planning, without thinking about the ramifications of his actions. Like a wild beast. Pure instinct.

  The first gendarme, Yuri, had his carbine almost in his hands when Joseph hit him.

  Joseph slammed his hand forward, ramming it hard into the man’s Adam’s apple.

  Yuri fell back, choking and sputtering. The carbine almost dropped from his hands.

  The second gendarme, Korander, swung his carbine around, the barrel pointed at Joseph’s mid-section.

  Joseph didn’t know if the man would really shoot him or not. Nor did he intend to find out. He leapt forward and grabbed the gun by the barrel. With a wild motion he twisted the weapon away.

  The man fought like a rabid dog, jerking the firearm around in an effort to get it wrenched out of Joseph’s grip.

  Joseph held on just as tenaciously. His life depended on keeping his hands on the carbine. “Maklavir!” he shouted.

  Yuri bent over double, coughing and retching as if he was going to spill his guts all over the floor. It was only a matter of seconds before he straightened and recovered.

  Down the hall came a wailing scream. An incessant banging started in one of the nearby rooms, then some hysterical laughter.

  Wonderful. They were waking the whole place up.

  Joseph yanked the carbine up. The barrel of the weapon pointed straight up towards the ceiling.

  Korander growled. He clung tightly to his end of the weapon.

  Behind Joseph’s back, Yuri began to straighten. He fumbled with the carbine in his hands.

  Joseph heaved with all his might and shoved Korander against the wall of the hall. The nearby doors rattled from the impact. An austere picture that had been hanging on the wall dropped off to the floor. Its frame shattered.

  Maklavir appeared at the door to Kara’s room. His mouth dropped open. “What in Zanthora—?”

  Korander’s carbine fired.

  The sound was a deafening thunderclap in the enclosed hall. A cloud of gun smoke erupted into the air, burning Joseph’s eyes and throat.

  The carbine ball lanced into the ceiling. A shower of wood splinter, plaster, and dust rained down on Joseph and Korander.

  Yuri backed against the opposite wall of the hallway. He lifted his carbine. The strap swayed from the bottom of the weapon.

  Joseph kneed Korander hard in the gut.

  A yell echoed down the hall, weird and frantic.

  Korander doubled over. He let go of the smoking carbine.

  Joseph turned, the spent carbine in his hands. He fully expected to be met by a bullet in the face.

  To his surprise, he saw Maklavir wrestling valiantly with Yuri.

  Joseph swung the carbine around and brought the weapon down on Korander’s head, hard enough to risk cracking the wooden stock.

  Korander crumpled to the ground without a sound.

  Joseph turned back around.

  Yuri threw Maklavir off him with a roar.

  The diplomat crashed back unceremoniously in t
he middle of the hall floor. His cape billowed out and over his head.

  Joseph thrust the butt end of the carbine into Yuri’s face.

  The gendarme didn’t see the blow coming until it was too late. His head snapped back, hitting the paneling of the wall with a loud crack. He hit the floor hard and didn’t move.

  Joseph breathed heavily, his eyes watering from the pall of gun smoke that drifted in the hall. He reached over and pulled Maklavir to his feet. “Get their swords, Maklavir. Move.”

  Maklavir struggled for a moment to get the cape off his head before finally extricating himself. “Tuldor’s beard, Joseph! When you said you’d take care of the gendarmes, I assumed you meant bribe them, or distract them—”

  “Berate me later,” Joseph said. “Potemkin and his men will be on us any second.” He snatched up the unfired carbine, and checked the firelock with shaking fingers. The weapon was primed.

  Maklavir snatched the swords off the belts of the two unconscious gendarmes. “What exactly is your plan, then? The windows are barred, and the doors are locked, if you hadn’t noticed. There’s no way out of here.”

  A nearby door creaked open, and wide eyes stared out at them. There was a shriek, and the door banged shut just as quickly.

  “There,” Joseph said, nodding with his head. “That door. It leads outside to a patio. We need to find a way to bash it down. Try to find something in one of the rooms…something iron, maybe. Anything we can use as a battering ram.”

  Kara appeared at the door to her room. She looked down the hallway, her face calm and her eyes distant. “Ladder of green, swan in ice,” she murmured.

  Maklavir grabbed Kara and pulled her away from the doorway. He pushed her behind a tall potted plant.

  Joseph looped out a satchel of cartridges from the gendarme’s belt. He looked down at the carefully prepared shots, wishing to Eru that Kendril were here right now.

  Did he really just think that? Joseph felt a shudder of rage and revulsion shiver through him. It was Kendril’s fault that Kara was the way she was right now. He had shot her, even though Joseph had begged him not to, even though—

  A gendarme appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carbine in hand. He looked up the stairs, confusion evident on his face