by Cait Ashwood
Zaddicus quirked an eyebrow at him. “I see you have been enjoying your gift.” He crossed his arms over his chest, smiling slightly.
Deuce glanced behind him at Amelina, who had prostrated herself on the floor. He was at a complete loss for words as he swung his gaze back around towards Zad.
“No matter. I have a job for you.”
Deuce straightened, letting his sword slide back into its sheath. “I’m listening.” He forced himself not to look at her again. She was less than an ant to Zad’s way of thinking, and he had to treat her similarly in the man’s presence.
“Of course you are.” Zaddicus snorted, waving a hand in the air. “We have a spy topside. I need you to eliminate him.”
“A spy.” Damned fools. “Just one?”
“He appears to be alone, yes.”
Why do I have the feeling I already know who it is? There was only one Seeker Deuce knew that was so keen on working by himself as to attempt to stake out the compound solo. “Has he learned anything of importance?”
Zaddicus’ eyes narrowed. “Why does it matter? I said he will be eliminated.”
Deuce was careful to keep his shrug nonchalant. “It seems to me we’ve been given an opportunity to spread misinformation to the enemy.”
Zaddicus tilted his head slightly to the side. “Oh?”
“They likely think they’ve found the main compound, and that would be correct.” He paused, keeping his gaze firmly on Zaddicus. “The idea may not have occurred to them that we have multiple bases of operations. If this spy knows me, they would believe anything I said to them.”
Zad nodded slowly, his gaze momentarily downcast. “I would have to set up fake bases for them to monitor.”
“Which would take considerably less manpower than what they would waste in watching all of them.”
Zaddicus turned, pacing slowly around the room. “It amazes me how quickly your mind turns to subterfuge.” His eyes were narrow and accusing.
Deuce raised an eyebrow, bluffing his way forward. “I’m a healer and diplomat, not some great warrior.”
“Waste of your talents, if you ask me,” Zad scoffed.
Deuce shrugged, not willing to comment on that.
Zaddicus moved to stand in front of the surface map pinned on one wall. “All right, my prince. We’ll try it your way.”
Deuce approached, eyes on the map.
“You’ll tell them we have outposts here, here, and here.” Zad indicated three points on the map.
“Outposts?”
Zaddicus smiled, a slow, devilish thing that took its time traveling across his face. “Quite right, my prince. Bases.”
Deuce stepped out onto the surface for the first time since descending into the Pit. Squinting into the light, he waited for his eyes to adjust, the feeling of the wind tousling his hair nearly heavenly after the unchanging environment of the compound. The sun seemed preternaturally bright, even in the somewhat shaded alcove he stood in. How long have I been down there? Couldn’t be more than two weeks.
One thing could be said for Zaddicus, however. Once he decided to move forward with a plan, he wasted no time. The idea for the bases wasn’t even a day old yet, and he already had men stationed at the agreed-upon positions with basic above-ground structures in place. Deuce had hoped that the need to set up the faux bases would have given him more time to think. If it was Hound out there, he was going to have a hell of a time convincing his former squad leader that he hadn’t turned traitor.
He wiped the water away from his eyes, stepping out of the alcove. He set out at a strong pace, too forced to seem leisurely but slow enough to not seem like he was in a rush. With hardly a thought, his vision shifted to shades of gray, and the body in the brush emitted a barely discernible shade of green. It took more effort for that figure that was hardly colored to change to a deep, murky purple. Hound. Deuce took a deep breath, trying to keep his calm. He doubted Zaddicus had sent him up here entirely alone, though no one else showed up on his radar. Wherever the spies were hiding, he didn’t have a clear line of sight on them.
Deuce squared his shoulders, forcing his breathing to drop into a steady pattern. He had a loose plan, dependent largely on how Hound received him. He hadn’t seen the man since shortly after the attack on the Institute, and it was impossible to guess how much the taint had changed him.
The dark figure rose, no longer attempting to conceal himself in the stand of thin brush he’d been crouched behind. Deuce let his sight fade, blinking as the world took on its normal hues. The sword on his hip seemed heavier than usual, and each step forward was forced.
Hound crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head as Deuce approached. “Of all the people I thought would change sides, I figured it would be me.”
No weapons yet. Deuce’s gaze flicked over Hound, taking in his posture. He seemed more curious than hostile, and that could work in his favor. “You have a strange way of requesting an audience.”
Hound raised an eyebrow. “Is that what I was doing?”
Deuce forced his hand onto the hilt of his sword. “You tracked me weeks ago.”
Hound’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t have to. Already knew about this place.”
Zad’s men haven’t been as careful as they should be. Deuce stepped sideways, moving to orbit Hound. “Then I can’t allow you to leave.”
Hound stared at him, then slowly began to laugh. “If you think you can put me out of my misery, go for it.”
“I don’t have to think it. I know it.” Deuce raised his eyebrow, holding his breath. They both knew Hound was the superior fighter, but Deuce didn’t know if Zad’s spies were in hearing range.
Hound’s laughter cut off and his hand went readily to his blade. “I seem to be making a habit of trying to put my old squad in the ground.”
Deuce forced a derisive snort. “I’ve already been in the ground. Nothing there frightens me.” He drew his sword, the shing as the blade scraped out of its scabbard a clear challenge.
Whether Hound was picking up on his double meaning or not, the other man drew not just his longsword, but a dagger in his off hand. That’s new. They began to circle each other, slowly closing the distance between them. Deuce feinted forward, his testing strike clanging off Hound’s blade.
Hound waded in to attack and Deuce fell back on his heels, weaving his blade to deflect the multiple attacks. His skill with a blade had been enough to allow him to graduate from the Institute, but he was no match for anyone training with Quad on a regular basis. I can’t let this go on too long. He gritted his teeth as he leaped back, putting some distance between them.
One strike, two, rang from his blade, then Hound vanished. Cursing, Deuce phased, ending up roughly ten feet away from where Hound reappeared, only a foot or so behind where he’d just been standing.
“You always were good at anticipating me.” Hound crossed the distance between them, his eyes flashing lavender as he surveyed the area around them.
“You’re rather obvious with your intentions.” That was Hound’s issue; he telegraphed his movements too clearly. It might be the only thing that kept Deuce in one piece through this encounter.
He waited for Hound to come a bit closer, then launched his own offensive. He had Hound defending and wanted to get in closer, but the dagger kept him at bay. Deuce took an opening when he saw it and when Hound parried, he slid their weapons closer together, locking the cross guards together. “We need to talk.”
Hound pushed him off, disentangling their blades. He didn’t show any response, and Deuce cursed under his breath again as his team leader stalked back in. He tensed his shoulder and Deuce prepared for the strike, but it didn’t come. Hound vanished once more, and Deuce froze against his better judgment. His legs trembled with the need to jump forward, out of danger. Energy waves pulsed behind him and the dagger’s blade pressed against his throat. Before he could even curse his stupid move, he was being phased.
A multitude of environments flashed
before his eyes, but he wasn’t in a single one long enough to even register a change in temperature. Finally able to feel the ground under his boots again, he was shoved forward roughly. He spun, sword held defensively in front of him, eyes on Hound.
The man’s eyes and tattoos on his face glowed a bright green as he slowly turned in a circle, the tip of his blade pointed at the ground. Tense seconds had stretched into nearly a minute before Hound shook his head. His tattoos faded and his eyes returned to their normal brown, narrowing as they flicked to Deuce’s face.
“We need these anymore?” The tone was gruff and challenging as he flicked his sword back into a ready position.
Deuce took another step back, sheathing his blade. “I don’t know how much time I have.”
“Then get talking.” Hound rested the tip of the blade on the ground, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet.
The fact that his team leader no longer trusted him hit harder than he’d been expecting. Deuce turned his head to the side and swallowed, forcing his thoughts to relevant information he might share.
“There’s a main path from the entrance to a central hall. It’s circular, with different symbols marking the halls.” Deuce cast around for a stick, blessing whatever beings might be watching over them that the soil here was loose. He scratched out two symbols in the dirt before backing away.
Hound slowly stalked forward, looking them over. “And these are for…?”
Deuce cleared his throat, for once thankful for Hound’s brusque nature. “The leaf leads down into the Pit, which is where the tainted Seekers have their quarters. The beaker marks the hall for the Order.”
Hound shook his head. “I need a map, not just symbols.”
Deuce snorted. “Like you trust me enough to use it.”
Hound’s gaze flicked to his face once more, the other man seeming startled. “You’re not tainted. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Deuce shook his head. “Really?” He wasn’t at all convinced.
Hound sighed, shaking his head. “I’ve been doubted enough myself, lately. You’ve no reason to lie to me.”
He stared at his leader for a long moment before finally dropping his arms, nodding. He picked the stick back up and sketched out the compound, showing differing depths and approximate distances. He wasn’t sure what the Seekers were planning, and that was for the best, so he included as many technical details as possible. Hound stood behind him as he worked, looking over his shoulder and asking questions every so often. Eventually, everything was sketched out in the dirt that he could think to point out.
He sighed, staring at the masterpiece, and stepped back. “That’s…pretty much it.”
Hound nodded curtly. “I’ll study it and take it back.” He didn’t spare a glance for Deuce.
“Oh, almost forgot. He’s setting up fake bases as well, and I’m supposed to tell you that where you were isn’t our main hub.” Deuce rattled off the coordinates, adding them to his sketch as he did so.
“So we need to assign men to watch them.” Hound didn’t sound happy.
“Planting fake intel was the only way I could get him not to order me to kill you.” Deuce shrugged, not too worried about Hound. He’d puzzle it over and realize it made perfect tactical sense from his standpoint.
“Fine. That everything?” Hound’s gaze was on the sky, eyes squinting like they always did when he was approximating the time.
“I need you to make this look real.” Deuce couldn’t stand to look at him. If he’d ever imagined asking anyone to rough him up, he’d figured it would be Ace.
“What look real?”
Deuce could feel Hound’s eyes on his back. “I have to go back.”
The snort was so indicative of Hound. “Why? You’re out; we have our intel. May as well stay out.”
He shook his head, shoulders tensing. “Zad’s paranoid. He’d change everything around. Unless you’re prepared to strike tonight, I go back.”
Hound’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke again. “What do you need me to do?”
Deuce swallowed, his sense of self-preservation rising in a sweeping panic. “Make it look like I lost.” His shoulders jumped at the sound of steel being drawn behind him, and he forced himself to swallow. This was gonna hurt.
Deuce made his way back into the compound, the tunnels seeming endless as he limped his way to the hub, eyes darting straight to the hallway that would lead to his bedroom. He could stitch himself up well enough, especially as Hound had been lethally precise in his strikes. Deuce didn’t feel like the drama of stopping by medical, so he shuffled over to the corridor. He made it about twenty feet before a scuff on the stone made him stop, straightening as best he could.
“I hope he looks worse than you do.” Zaddicus’ tone was flat and unimpressed.
Deuce grimaced, grinding his teeth. “I told you I’m a medic, not a fighter.”
“Hmph. Well. Let’s hope you’re a damned good medic, then.” Zad turned, leading the way back to Deuce’s quarters.
Amelina squeaked and dropped to her knees when they entered, and Deuce had to bite back his permission for her to rise. It wouldn’t do to seem overly partial to her in front of Zad. When Zad didn’t immediately speak, Deuce shrugged and opened the chest at the foot of his bed, digging out his medical kit.
“Fetch me some water, wench, and set it on to boil.” He tried to make his voice sound harsh, he truly did. It was something he’d never been able to pull off. He peeled off his blood-soaked shirt and tossed it haphazardly onto the floor as if he didn’t care how it would be cleaned up. Amelina went about her appointed task as quietly as possible, while Zad took a seat at his table. He’ll speak up if he has something to say. She got the pot of water settled over the fire and Deuce dabbed a clean rag in the water, washing away the worst of the blood and dirt. He had a few good gashes, but Hound had been kind enough to put them where he could reach to clean himself up.
Inspecting the one across his ribs, he forced himself to freeze, slowly looking up into Amelina’s wide eyes. “Some brandy, woman. Haven’t you any sense?” Ignoring the hurt in her eyes was harder than he’d have thought, but cruelty was a necessary charade here. She excused herself from the room, and he could hear her footsteps running down the hall.
“I’m glad to see she’s at least useful.”
Deuce couldn’t tell if Zad was being complimentary or not. He shrugged, picking through his kit for the herbs he’d mix for the poultice. “Hardly the most efficient servant and often quite dense, but she’ll do.”
Zad chuckled and poured himself a glass of water. “They don’t have to do much thinking in their cells. Just eat, spread their legs when needed, and heal on the rare occasions we take them topside.”
The bitterness Deuce had to swallow was worse than the pain he was in. “Don’t want them thinking.”
“Quite right.” Zad raised his cup to Deuce and took a drink as if toasting him. “You planted the false information?”
“I did. Fucker phased me around the world a few times to do it, though.” Badmouthing Hound was easier to do, for some reason.
Zad snorted softly. “I don’t have many trackers in my ranks. He needn’t have worried.”
Rushed footsteps approached, and Deuce turned his head toward the door as Amelina rushed in, offering a quick bow before bringing the ceramic jug of brandy to him. He bit his tongue, having been about to say thank you. She stood next to him, as if unsure what to do next.
“Is that water hot yet?” I’m going to spend the next week apologizing to her, I swear.
She ducked her head, her expression veiled. Dipping her finger in the pot of water, she paused. Deuce swore he saw a hint of green flash over her eyes and raised an eyebrow. She was purifying his water. He’d seen Audrey do it dozens of times, as she never ate or drank anything with a hint of the taint in it. Was she cleansing it from normal taint levels, or had Zaddicus changed his mind about hi
s request to stay clean?
“Not yet, milord.” She stared at her feet as she stood next to the pot, waiting for the next order.
The legs of Zad’s chair scraped over the stone as he pushed away from the table, rising to his feet. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
Deuce nodded stiffly, teeth clenched together as he poured the brandy over the cuts. Despite the pain, he didn’t make a sound as the liquor ran down his skin, turning to liquid fire everywhere Hound’s blade had cut. He didn’t even allow himself to catch his breath until the door shut behind Zad. The air he gulped in after that gave him a heady rush.
Amelina was at his side almost immediately. “What can I do?”
He wanted to brush her off, but one look at her face told him that would be the wrong thing to do. She was staring at him earnestly, her forehead wrinkled in concern. “Can you make poultices?”
She nodded, squaring her shoulders.
He reached for his kit, but she beat him to it, holding it up for him. He grunted his thanks as he verified the herbs he’d selected earlier and verified the appropriate ratios. “If you’ll blend these, please,” he stopped mid-sentence, his breath a hiss between his teeth as the cut in his side wept more blood. I should know better than to lean like that. Shit.
The items vanished in a blink of his eye and she carried them over to his table, the sound of the mortar and pestle grinding giving him some reassurance that she may know what she was doing. His eyes lingered on her back before turning to the rest of his tools, selecting a needle and thread. When this was over, he was going to dose his ass up with some poppy and thoroughly enjoy not being conscious for a few hours.
11
Zeche put his hands behind his back as he waited for the Seeker that detained him to go dashing off to his superiors. Glancing around the main hall, he whistled nonchalantly. The Seekers still weren’t well-accustomed to visitors, it seemed. He was being stared at by multiple pairs of unfriendly eyes, but it didn’t bother him in the least. He was more bothered by the reason he was here than by his reception, in all honesty.