Storm Unbound

by Leo Hull

  “Simple. It could work,” Tristan admitted as he studied the compound. The plan was straightforward and flexible, both elements the Corp hammered into him during training. “Where is the entrance to the dungeon?”

  “Door on the seaside with steps that lead down. There’s a garden nearby that will be perfect to hide in. The guards only patrol the wall, so once you’re inside there isn’t much to worry about until my distraction and the dungeon.”

  “And that will be?” Tristan prompted, struggling to imagine how a woman as small as Lydia could present a threat big enough to draw the guards.

  “Fire will do it.”

  “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

  “Almost.” Lydia frowned and turned back towards the city. The wind up here was steady, and she snuggled against Tristan for warmth. He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her. “We need to talk about my half-brother.”

  “The light burst guy? Now that I know about him, I should be able to deal with him. I can use my Gift to harden my eyes against the light.”

  “They’re called Gleams, and he can do more than just blind you. He’s skilled with a blade.” Lydia shuddered. “And if he catches me, I’ll be helpless. He can’t know I’m there or he’ll stop everything else to find me.”

  Tristan felt his gorge rising at the memory of what Lydia had told him about Osred. “Why is he so obsessed with you? Why not just find another Shade?”

  “I think he would have if there had been any. Once he had his powers, I was the only Shade visiting home regularly. Shades and Gleams are both rare. There hasn’t been a Shade-Gleam bond in decades. I figured once I fled, he would track and kill one of vultas that had a Shade and try to bind her somehow. I never imagined he would follow me across the Sea.”

  “Yeah, but his own half-sister?” Tristan spat on the ground.

  “He always wanted power, and a Shade and a Gleam together are supposed to be far stronger than the individuals. Like I said it’s been years, and I’ve never been bound with a Gleam so I don’t have my own experience, but others talk about it like they can meld shadow and light to make illusions.”

  “That would be useful.” Tristan thought about how easy it would be to rescue Annik and Nessa if they had the ability to conjure up fake guards or maybe even have an imaginary Talek escort them down.

  “Osred seemed convinced that there was more, that with the right approach shadow and light together could mean something was real and that was why I should bond with him.” Lydia stared down, her hand trembling on the wall. Tristan reached out to steady her tremor. “I’m stronger than the other Shades. I think that’s why he wanted me for himself and why he took Serana.”

  “I said I would kill him. Focus on the rescue, if he shows up, I’ll take care of him.” Lydia smiled weakly at him, and Tristan pulled back from the sudden desire to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. She’d made it clear sex, as much as she had enjoyed it, was over between them. “You said he’s good with a sword? Well, I’m not bad, and it takes more than a few cuts to put me down.”

  “That’s dark. Doesn’t it still hurt?”

  “Yes, but in the heat of the moment you’d be surprised what the body will ignore.” Tristan grimaced as he remembered the time he’d gotten in a drunken fight with sailors just returned from a voyage. He’d been drinking heavily for months at that point, shoving and starting arguments that he hoped would lead to a confrontation that would make him feel something.

  Starting a fight as a Bolstered is surprisingly hard since no one wants to be on the other side. The sailors had been the first to take him up on it, jumping him as he stumbled home. Eight on one seemed like good odds to the sailors, even if the one had an inhuman ability to take punishment. Turns out much of winning a brawl is one side knowing when to give up, and Tristan was too drunk and too self-destructive to back down.

  “I got in a fight with a few guys once,” Tristan said. “Broke four fingers, my hand, and a few ribs and didn’t even know until I limped home.”

  “You didn’t feel it at all?”

  “Or care.” Tristan grimaced and wondered how he’d ever sunk so low. “I was drunk and some part of me wanted to just end it all.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

  Tristan glanced at her in surprise. Lydia blushed and wouldn’t meet his eye, and Tristan wasn’t stupid enough to press her on it. Instead, he just squeezed her hand tighter and stared off over the city. They stood in silence, Tristan running through the plan again. It was sound, but no plan survived completely intact.

  “How will we get out? Where do we meet if things go wrong?”

  “There’s a side gate that I’ll unlock before giving you the key. Serana will need to go that way, but you and Annik can probably fight your way out the front if need be.” Lydia looked out over the city. “We can meet at your room, but if I get out with Serana I plan on taking the first ship out no matter where it’s going.”

  Tristan tried to hide his disappointment, but from Lydia’s sudden look of doubt, he wondered if she felt it through their bond. The few bursts of understanding he had with Lydia were so light he wondered if he just imagined them—wishful thinking to replace what he missed with Nessa. “Of course. Annik and I have to head home as well.”

  Saying his duty out loud filled Tristan with dread so he shoved the thought away. He had plenty to accomplish before facing that obstacle.

  “I want to do some more scouting but be ready for tomorrow night.” Lydia straightened but didn’t pull her hand free from Tristan’s. “Meet at midnight in the doorway by the alley?”

  Tristan nodded, Lydia’s hand dropping reluctantly away. Her eyes lingered on his, then she turned and walked in the opposite direction of his room, the shirt she wore as a dress fluttering about her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tristan hooked his leg over the wall and used it to lever the rest of himself up. He took one quick glance around for any unexpected guards, then crept along the wall towards the stairs. He’d taken part in the infiltration drills back in Aeol, a game of sorts that the recruits had placed wagers on. The reality left his heart pounding in a way the games never had.

  He saw no movement, but the scuff of his soft boots might as well have been the noisy approach of a full battalion’s marching steps it sounded so loud. He knew the noise wouldn’t carry far, but his senses tingled in anticipation and he checked again to make sure his sword was still wrapped in black fabric.

  As Lydia had promised, the wall was empty and he quickly made his way down to the compound grounds, stifling a curse as he saw a dark shadow tugging futilely at the body of a guard. Tristan hugged the base of the wall and made his way to Lydia.

  She struggled to drag a man twice her size, his throat cut and leaking blood as she yanked at his leg.

  “What are you doing?” Tristan whispered, grabbing his legs and pulling him into the shadows. He stumbled and swallowed a surprised yelp when he turned and caught sight of a pile of three bodies, one with a leg bent an angle that made his stomach flip. White bone stuck into the air, seeming to hover in the darkness.

  “The distraction. There’s two more about ten yards on, can you grab them?”

  “The distraction? Your distraction is a pile of bodies?”

  “And fire. The guards will think Talek is under attack and hopefully rally around him rather than protect the kitchen and the dungeon. Go get those two. We have two hours until they change the guards and notice these guys are gone.” She let her shadows fall, trusting to the darkness to hide them while she rested.

  Her pale body was smeared with blood, her arms soaked practically to the elbow in it, yet she was still hauntingly beautiful. Her eyes showed determination that Tristan shared, both finally taking action to find their loved ones. She smirked at his gaze, a glint in her eyes as she stood uncovered before him.

  “What about the other guards? Won’t they notice before?”

  “Other guards? Did I miss some?�
� Lydia looked around and started counting. “Six is all they had on the wall. We’ll be fine for two hours. Now hurry up, I’ll go steal the key to the cells and gather the things to light the fire. I’ll find you in the garden.”

  Before Tristan could reply, she’d faded back to darkness and run off, a splotch of shadow that he could barely track. A guard that didn’t know she was there stood no chance of noticing her.

  He set to his task, dragging the two men and wondering how Lydia had cleared the guards so quickly. She’d gone up just fifteen minutes or so before him, and yet she’d managed to take out six guards without an alarm being raised. Given her skill, he wondered why she just didn’t slowly pick apart the entire compound, isolating and killing everyone until they could stroll out the front with their women safe. It certainly seemed within her abilities.

  He stashed the last body on the macabre pile, wiped his hands on a guard’s cloak, then caught sight of a guard’s sword. He carefully drew it then added it to his bundle for Annik.

  His task done, he turned and headed back past the stairs, staying low and darting from shadow to shadow. The compound was large, and by the time he made it to the gardens he’d tapped his Bolstered Gift to ease any tiredness from crouching and creeping. He needed to be fresh. He slid among the shaped hedges and trellises covered in climbing vines, stretching his arms above his head then freeing the bundle of weapons.

  “Took you long enough,” Lydia spoke from the shadows, startling Tristan so badly he toppled over.

  “How?” Tristan asked from the ground, looking up as Lydia faded into view.

  “You move slow.” Lydia held out her hand, a key floating in a pool of shadows. “Remember, wait for the distraction.”

  “I’ve got it,” Tristan grumbled, annoyed yet impressed at Lydia’s competence. She was better at this than any of the trainees in the Corp. The thought of home summoned a pang of sadness about Annik’s captivity. She should be the one free and appreciating Lydia’s skill, not him. “You got the things for a fire too?”

  Lydia stepped to the side revealing a lantern and a ceramic jug Tristan assumed to be oil.

  “Impressed?”

  “A little scared,” Tristan admitted, eyeing her blood splattered body standing naked and confident. She looked like a small demon brought forth to kill and seduce. She was in her element and it showed. “Why don’t you just stalk around and kill everyone?”

  “Osred,” Lydia whispered, wilting back into the shadows. “My original plan was to sneak in, torture Serana’s location out of Talek, kill him, then rescue Serana in the confusion. I was in the room with him when I found out Osred was here.”

  “He scares you that bad?”

  “He doesn’t even have to know where exactly I am. He can just fill the whole area with light, and then I’ll just be a skinny, naked woman with two daggers barely longer than my fingers.” She had her arms wrapped around herself and had called up enough shadows to cloak her in a dark fog. “I should go. I’ll unlock the side gate, then keep an eye on things.”

  “See you in a few hours.” She stiffened as she gathered her things, and he cringed when he remembered her promise to take the first boat out. If things went well, he might not ever see her again. “Shit, or maybe not. Safe trip?”

  “You too. Stay safe, Tristan.” Lydia didn’t look at him, and as she brushed past, a thrill of longing shot through the bond that set his heart aching. There was no mistaking their connection now. Lydia stopped a pace past him, wrapped in black shadows that seemed to drink the light. He could tell she was looking at him, but he didn’t know what to say and the moment passed.

  She was gone, the oil and lantern seeming to float from shadow to shadow as Lydia left Tristan alone with regret and eagerness that he struggled to reconcile. He had time, and with nothing else to do settled in for a few hours of self-reflection, an alien task that he still didn’t feel completely comfortable with.

  At least there isn’t drink here to tempt me, Tristan thought to himself, trying to focus on reuniting with Nessa and Annik rather than Lydia’s departure or the choices he would be faced with after the women were freed.

  A guard shouted, raising an alarm that was quickly picked up by others. The flicker of a fire sent long shadows dancing along the grounds and walls of the compound. From the size of it, Tristan wondered if Lydia had gone back for more oil. Flames shot into the sky as high as the compound wall and would likely draw attention from the rest of the city.

  It was a distraction that drew the eye. The cries of fire went up and the two sleepy guards stationed outside the dungeon door snapped to attention. They drew their swords, gripping them tightly and arguing about what to do. Even in the garden, the sound of frantic yelling and rushing boots filled the air. It sounded like the entire compound responded to the fire.

  One of them finally turned and pounded on the door until a slit slid open. “Lock up tight. I’m going to go see what’s going on,” the older of the two guards instructed. The slit closed again, and the grizzled veteran took off around the side of Talek’s house. The remaining guard was young and stood with his back to the door, his head turned as he stared wide eyed into the darkness.

  Tristan quietly drew his sword, tucked the bundle containing a weapon for Annik under his other arm, then crept from the garden parallel to the building and away from the direction the guard stared. He moved a dozen yards from the dungeon entrance then swung back toward the wall.

  The cries of the guards were coming furious now, and lights throughout the compound flickered on. The noise helped disguise Tristan’s approach, but by some stroke of bad luck the guard turned as he drew near, letting out a strangled yelp and dropping his sword.

  Tristan sprang at him, dropping the bundle and lunging with the point of his sword outstretched. The guard shrank backwards but still took the tip of the sword in his arm. He cried out in pain, reflexively batted the sword away, and then took off running into the night as fast as he could.

  Tristan cursed and took two steps after him, then stopped. The man would raise the alarm but chasing him down was likely to get him caught out in the open and surrounded. Better to free Annik and Nessa and fight their way out. The door clicked and swung open on screeching, rusty hinges. He took the key with him and shook the second sword free of its black cover.

  “Trevton, that you? What the hell is going on out there?” a nervous, wheezy voice called from the bottom of dark stairs. Tristan wasted no time in answering, taking the steps two at a time as he abandoned stealth for haste. Given the chaos of the fire and slain guards it would take a bit for any organized response to emerge, but Tristan wanted to be free of the dungeon before they could lock him inside.

  An old man, pale from years spent in darkness, peered through the bars of a second door. He yelped and turned stiffly as Tristan bounded into view. Slowed by age, the jailer did his best to hurry away. Tristan shot after, sliding his sword and arm through the bars and slashing across the guard’s shoulders. The man was old and wore only a cloth shirt, so even with the blow restricted by the bars, Tristan opened a deep gash and sent the man spinning to the floor where he lay motionless.

  Tristan stood panting, the only noise his own breath and the muffled sound of guards responding to the fire. There didn’t seem to be any other guards, and he gleefully pulled the key out, his smile vanishing when it didn’t even fit in the interior door’s keyhole.

  “Damn it,” Tristan hissed, turning it to try different angles then cursing and throwing it to the ground. Talek hadn’t trusted just a single key to guard his jail, which Tristan and Lydia should have suspected. Maybe Lydia had known, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that and he still felt certain he could trust her.

  He set his swords aside and gripped the bars, testing their construction for any chance of using force. As strong as he was, the iron bars were thick with the frame sunk into the stone floor and ceiling. He felt panic start to rise and fought against the sudden nervous instinct to flee. Plans
never worked perfectly and he had to adapt.

  He swept his eyes around the hall. Beyond the bars, a small office with an open door let light out, but the passage darkened quickly beyond that. The shadows of cell doors were barely visible in the gloom, but there wasn’t an indication of anything that would help him pass this barrier. He considered yelling for Annik and Nessa but dismissed it. The one guard had likely gone for help, but he’d been scared and injured so he might have fled. Tristan didn’t want to draw attention and even if Nessa and Annik answered they wouldn’t be able to free themselves.

  He eyed the old jailer, his back leaking blood where he lay. Tristan needed to search him. He crouched and reached for him, his arm extended and head turned as he stretched to his limit. His finger brushed a boot, but not enough to pull the body closer.

  Tristan sighed and let his arm drop, his eyes falling on the swords he’d propped against the wall. He grabbed one, his stomach flipping at the idea of skewering the man’s body like meat, but he didn’t have any other option. Tristan steeled himself, then plunged the sword into the man’s calf, pushing down to make sure the sword was buried deeply.

  He nearly lost his grip when the man groaned, his head jerking and his arms fumbling to try and pull himself free. Tristan grunted and reached another arm through the bars then swallowed a yell as he gripped the blade a foot down from the hilt for better leverage. The edge bit into his fingers, but he would heal.