The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books)

by Matthew Sprange

  He stumbled as a wave of power swept over him, and it took a moment to realise that it had been in his mind alone. It had felt as if someone very powerful and very learned in magics was flexing his muscles before entering the fight.

  Screaming now, the endless shriek ripped from her throat, the woman began to shake, though her hand was still rigidly pointing toward him, the lightning pouring out with ever greater intensity. The wizard looked insensible, her eyes rolling in their sockets, glazed over as if she were somewhere else.

  The energies channelled by her body had risen tenfold again, and the power was beginning to leak from her tall frame, sparks jumping out through her silk garments, setting them alight. Lucius moaned with the effort of keeping his shield intact, now reduced to the thinnest sliver of a defence.

  In the corners of his eyes, he saw a figure appear in each of the corridors now stretching from the chamber. Each was cowled in a pale robe, face hidden within its shadowy recess. They stood, immobile, staring at Lucius and his pathetic efforts to resist the magic of their vassal.

  Another pulse of energy swept over Lucius and he staggered under its impact, unaware of Elaine’s steadying hand on his shoulder, unable to hear her words. He could feel other centres of power, other crafters of magic, hidden from his view, working together. Perhaps their power was being magnified by the strange construction of this part of the keep, or perhaps they could do it naturally, but he had not felt a force so powerful since confronting Adrianna. Even then, he could not say who was the greater – the Shadowmage, or what must be the Vos cabal.

  The tall woman’s head now lolled to one side, and Lucius doubted that she was still alive. Still, she was serving as the link to the cabal, their instrument against him. Seeing his shield begin to wither and die, he yelled out loud as he pushed it forward, flooding it with a final burst of energy.

  The wave smashed into the tall woman. Unable to offer any resistance, her body folded under the blow, bones breaking as she was thrown off her feet into the wall behind. She fell limply to the ground, unmoving.

  The lightning storm ceased with the death of her body, leaving the chamber eerily silent. Lucius became aware of Elaine shaking him. Looking up the twin corridors, he saw the two cowled figures advancing smoothly, as if floating a few inches above the ground.

  “I can’t fight them,” he gasped. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Heinrich had already hurled a knife at one of the cabal wizards, but the blade had winked out of existence as it spun through the air, not even passing the length of the chamber.

  Another pulse, yet stronger than before, hammered Lucius and he reeled, clutching his head as pain lanced through his mind. He looked at Elaine through hazed eyes.

  “The portcullis is jammed,” Elaine shouted, her voice seeming to come from a far distance. “We can’t go back.”

  “Distract...” he managed to say, but the assassins understood immediately.

  Heinrich readied his sword and sprinted towards one of the cabal wizards. Elaine went to follow him, but Lucius grabbed her shoulder. He saw her glance at Heinrich, but he gripped harder, turning her around as he reached out with his other hand, summoning the energy to build his spell. The fog clouding his mind suddenly vanished, and his vision returned with renewed clarity. Lucius knew that Heinrich had succeeded in distracting the cabal wizards for a brief moment. He also knew the assassin was already dead.

  With a ragged breath, he drew in air and concentrated, drawing the magical energies he needed to him, conscious that he had but seconds before the wizards behind recovered from whatever Heinrich had done. He formed a blast of energy and sent it streaming toward the portcullis, but collapsed with the effort. He heard Elaine’s desperate cries as she threw her weight against the shattered portcullis.

  Lucius heard a crash of metal, then Elaine was with him, hauling him to his feet. He stumbled forward, then felt her stop.

  “Heinrich...” she said.

  “He’s dead.”

  Elaine froze in place, and Lucius saw her look back, though whether it was to seek vengeance or try a desperate rescue, he could not say.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Lucius said. “He’s dead.”

  “Then they die too,” she said.

  “Elaine, we’ve got to go now. Too much depends on you. Remember the guild!”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  Lucius looked at her, fear and desperation on both their faces.

  “Yes you do.”

  Still she hesitated. He grabbed her around the waist and dragged her through the portcullis.

  “For God’s sake, Elaine, we leave now!”

  For the briefest moment Elaine resisted, then a shadow seemed to fall over her. Her face grew steely; Lucius felt sorry for the next soldier they met.

  Behind him, sorcerous energies began to escalate again, poured into a spell of devastating proportions. The thieves fled back up the corridor, and to the spiralled staircase up to the keep’s dungeons. Lucius pushed Elaine into the recess and made sure she was climbing before he cast a look over his shoulder.

  Pursuing them down the corridor were several cowled figures. No longer floating serenely, he could see them running with desperate speed as they saw their victims escaping. One flicked a hand in an elaborate gesture, and a tiny red spark shot unerringly toward Lucius.

  Sensing the power contained within the little spark, Lucius threw himself up the stairs, his legs pumping as he mounted the steps two at a time. He felt the spark build vastly in intensity, and then a thunderous crash blasted behind him just inside the corridor. The dark staircase was lit up in a brilliant orange as flames clawed up the stairs, eager to consume him.

  Yelling at Elaine to move faster, he scrambled up the stairs, feeling the heat licking at his boots and cloak. Dust scoured from the walls by the blast was driven up before the flames, and Lucius began to choke as his vision was clouded. Stumbling, he felt his way up the stairs.

  The flames receded as the spell subsided. Not wanting to see what the cabal would do as a follow-up, Lucius hurried up the staircase.

  Elaine was waiting for him in the underground warehouse. She was bent over, hands on her thighs as she struggled to regain her breath. Looking up as he approached, also gasping for air, Elaine gave him a poisonous look.

  “Bastards,” she said, and Lucius had the unnerving thought that she blamed him for the loss of Heinrich.

  He thought of all the things he could say to her – apologies, sympathies, even an attempt at reconciliation – but dismissed them all.

  “We have to go,” he said. “They’re still following. I can feel them.”

  “They are too powerful for you to fight?” It could have been a jibe at his skill with magic, or it might have been an honest question. Lucius pushed the thought from his mind.

  “I can’t face them directly, but I think there is one thing I can do that, if nothing else, will cause them a great deal of frustration.”

  Elaine gave him a strange look, but followed him as he ran through the lines of stacked crates to the entrance of the warehouse. Stopping at the door, he gestured for Elaine to get behind him.

  “Two birds, as they say...”

  Feeling the magic surging within him again, Lucius drew the energies together into a jagged bolt of light. With a push of his mind, he sent it lancing toward one of the columns supporting the high ceiling of the warehouse.

  The column blew apart under the pressure of the spell, sending chunks of stone spiralling into the furthest recesses of the warehouse. For a brief second, nothing happened, then came a deep, low, vibrating rumble that seemed to emanate from the keep itself. Sacks of grain tumbled from their piles and crates crashed to the floor.

  “Now, we really do have to go,” Lucius said, taking Elaine’s arm and pulling her away from the warehouse, retracing their steps into the dungeons.

  Behind them, cracks appeared in the ceiling of the warehouse, thin slivers at first, but rapidly growing into
wide gashes that streaked across the open spaces between the remaining columns. Rock and earth rained down from the ceiling as the entire warehouse began to shake violently. An ear-splitting crack resounded throughout the lower levels of the keep as the ceiling finally gave way under the pressure of the keep above.

  Tons of rock and debris crashed down into the warehouse, instantly flattening everything within.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THIEVES AND ASSASSINS flooded the Citadel, presiding over a reign of terror and death as they took revenge on their oppressors. The assassins remained focussed, locating targets of value and importance and sending them to hell with blade, bolt and arrow. The thieves freed by Lucius and Elaine were less selective. They killed anyone they met, be they official, soldier or servant.

  Some, the most experienced and the most terrified, kept their heads enough to follow Lucius and Elaine out. Others rampaged through the keep on a killing spree.

  Lucius could do nothing for them. He had given them all a chance for survival and escape; their lives were now in their own hands.

  Spilling out onto the bridge between the keep and one of the towers lining the Citadel, Lucius and Elaine found themselves at the head of a mob of the most desperate, those who had seen enough of Vos cruelty and just wanted the freedom of the city. Some had managed to snatch up weapons from defeated soldiers, and a couple had grabbed shields as well, but most were unarmed.

  A small group of assassins and thieves had taken up position on one of the walls, holding back squads of soldiers on both sides to protect the ladders and ropes they had deployed down the Citadel wall. Their outlines were barely visible in the soft glow of burning buildings in the city, set against a black sky. No cheers of relief came from the men he led, however; stretched across the bridge, they saw the soldiers of the Order of the Swords of Dawn waiting for them.

  The Swords, immaculate in their white tabards, were motionless, and their demeanour radiated discipline, halberds held aloft in perfect ranks.

  Lucius cast a glance at Elaine, his eyebrows raised. She shrugged.

  “Nothing else for it,” she said, turning back to face the rabble of thieves behind her and raising her voice. “We either fight our way through the Faith’s so-called elite soldiers, or we retreat, and die in the Citadel. What say you?”

  That brought a ragged cheer from the thieves, albeit half-hearted. Not one of them doubted the efficiency of the Swords.

  Raising her sword aloft, Elaine marched forward, and Lucius kept pace by her side. After ensuring the thieves were following her, Elaine picked up her pace, first jogging, and then sprinting as they charged the line.

  The Swords of Dawn did not so much as twitch their halberds before the baying horde’s onslaught. They simply waited for the thieves to hit their line, where their training would ensure short work of the desperate charge.

  Lucius cursed, having hoped their line would at least begin to soften and drift apart as they received the charge, allowing some thieves to break through and begin a general brawl. Able to get a soldier on his own, two or more thieves had a chance, but fighting like a disciplined military unit gave all the advantages to the Swords. If they would not break, he would have to force them.

  A dozen yards from the Swords’ line, Lucius skidded to a stop and dropped to one knee. He thumped a fist to the bridge’s stone surface, flooding the area before him with magical energy, pouring it into a wave that rolled inexorably forward.

  Few thieves saw the shimmering wave, glinting with a dull sheen as it sped towards the Swords, but they cheered with sudden elation as the centremost guards reeled back, pushed by the hand of a giant. Those who had taken the brunt of the wave flew backwards into the ranks behind them, while those on the periphery staggered, some dropping their weapons as the thieves hit the disrupted line.

  Weak after directing such a powerful spell so quickly, Lucius tried to make his way back to Elaine’s side, but the mob of thieves swept past him. He saw them crash into the line, and their momentum tore the Swords’ formation in two as the centre completely buckled under their charge.

  He was aware that those hitting the flanks fared less well, with many being cut down by a sweeping halberd before they had a chance to throw a fist or strike a blow. Most in the centre turned on the guards nearest them with a rare fury, hitting them in the sides and rear, though a few kept on running for the safety of the city. Lucius could not find it in his heart to blame them, though he wished they had stayed to finish the fight.

  A stocky knight bawled orders at his men, and the Swords’ formation, though broken in two, suddenly became rigid, the soldiers at the front of the fight steeling themselves to face the thieves. Halberds began to swing again, and men and women started to fall beneath their heavy axe-heads.

  Lucius pushed his way through the mob of thieves, trying to reach the centre of the fight, hoping to break the line again and reach the knight. With him dead, the Swords’ morale might be shaken enough for the thieves to regain an advantage. Elaine had already seen this possibility, and Lucius watched as she railed against the soldiers, ducking their slicing halberds, and thrusting her swords past their clumsy parries. An upswing from a soldier drove the shaft of his halberd into her stomach, and then clipped her across the chin. Elaine reeled back in shock and pain.

  Seeing this, Lucius grew frantic, desperately clawing his way through thieves to reach her. He heard another hollered order from the knight, and the soldiers closest to him surged forward as those behind closed in, trying to crush the thieves between them in the shattered centre.

  Hefting his dagger, Lucius tried to throw it at the knight, but the thieves were being hemmed in tighter and tighter, and there was not enough room to cast it properly. The blade went wide, disappearing behind the knight to fall into the compound far below.

  That gave Lucius an idea.

  Side-stepping a halberd thrust at his chest, Lucius stabbed forward with his sword, gouging a deep cut in his attacker’s forearm. As the halberd dropped to the floor, Lucius stepped under the soldier’s guard and drove his knee into man’s stomach. He grasped the soldier’s elaborate tabard, then shouted over his shoulder to the thieves.

  “Grab them! Push them over the edge!”

  Where lack of arms and skill had betrayed them, the thieves now took advantage of their weight of numbers. Halberds flashed, carving holes among the ranks of the thieves, but enough closed in to engage the Swords close up, where large weapons like halberds were useless. Pinned against the bodies of the soldiers, the halberds were held immobile, while small blades in the hands of thieves easily found their way through gaps in mail armour.

  “Push!” Lucius yelled, and he felt the thieves behind him surge, pressing him forward into the soldiers. At first, the Swords resisted, but as the thieves grew in confidence, the line began to be driven back. Startled yells from the rearmost soldiers told Lucius they had seen the danger, but it was too late, and he grinned with malicious glee as, over the heads of the Swords, he saw the knight desperately grab at the nearest tabarded figures as he lost his balance. For a second, the knight seemed to hang at an impossible angle over the edge of the bridge. Then, he fell, disappearing from view.

  Soldiers quickly followed him, and the pace of the thieves’ push increased as the resistance against them waned. With a kick, Lucius pitched the soldier he still held over the metal railings lining the side of the bridge, and watched him fall down into the bailey where scattered corpses of his comrades already lay still. Lucius gave a howl of victory, fairly stunned that his plan had worked, but it was cut short as he realised the thieves behind were still pushing.

  “Hold!” he shouted desperately. “Hold!”

  Kicking with all his strength, Lucius saw the metal railings approach, saw the yawning emptiness open before him, but his feet slid uselessly across the stone bridge. The air was driven from him as his stomach was pressed into the railings and his body was forced over it, so he was looking directly into the bailey. Besid
e him, another thief lost his battle against the surge and fell, screaming until he hit the ground with a dreadful impact.

  Feeling himself toppling over the edge of the railings, Lucius closed his eyes to await the inevitable. It had been a good idea, and it had saved everyone else, but his quick wits had also killed him.

  A hand grabbed the back of his collar and hauled him away from the railings. Lucius remained bent over double as he tried to catch his breath, then he looked up to see the face of Harker, beaming at him.

  “Bet you’re glad you rescued me now, eh?” Harker said.

  “Harker...” Lucius began, then stopped to cough. “Harker, I owe you a drink.”

  “I’ll hold you to that. But for now, I think we’d better get moving.”

  With no more Swords of Dawn to block their path, the thieves had already started the race to the walls. The few soldiers scattered around the tower proved no match for thieves drunk on their victory over the best the Final Faith had to offer. Elaine led the charge, Lucius saw, while he had to be content bringing up the rear and making sure no thief dallied to torture fallen soldiers.

  He was reunited with Elaine at the top of the wall, as she organised the thieves’ descent of the wall.

  “That was... inspired,” she said to Lucius as he held a ladder steady for thieves clambering to the ground.

  “I’m just glad it worked,” he said. “If those soldiers had recovered... well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. That could have got very nasty, very quickly. Were you hurt?”

  She dismissed the question with a wave. “Just a few scratches. I’ll be a whole lot better when we leave this place.”

  Lucius glanced down at the ladder. The thieves had reached the bottom and were already running as fast as they could to their favourite bolt-holes. Waiting until the thieves had found their way out, the assassins were now scaling down their ropes.

  “After you,” Lucius said, gesturing to the ladder, but Elaine shook her head.

  “I’m the leader of the guild, remember? I leave last.”