The plans had suggested there would be a large room, and they were right. Of course, the plans thought there would be an entrance, so it was marked as a guardroom, but now it was full of clutter that hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time. The air was thick with must and dust, painted a flickering gold now, instead of silver, which was good because it meant it was unlikely anyone would walk in on them while they got themselves organized. Rawk stood being nervous and impatient as Hobart and his assistants brought the now-loose parts of the wall inside so they couldn’t be seen from up above. They stacked them neatly near the hole and, all going well, they would slip them back into place as they left so it would take a while for anyone to realize. They didn’t do it now in case they needed to leave in a hurry.
“Good luck, everyone,” Hobart said and lead the work crew back the way they’d come where they could wait in the relative safety of the alley until they were required.
Rake stumped across the room to stand by Rawk. He was wearing light, black armor and a helm that covered most of his face. “Are we ready?”
Rawk nodded. Fabi nocked an arrow and he nodded too. Frew just grunted. Rousing agreement, then.
But then it was too late. Gunnar and Crisp set off, swords at the ready. Rawk wanted to go next, but Rake beat him to the door. Then Kristun pushed past, tools clanking softly in a leather satchel he had over his shoulder. Rawk grunted and went through before Frew and Fabi could beat him too. The door led to a hallway and, according to one of the dwarves that cleaned the place, just around the corner there would be a guard at a barred door. The man wouldn’t have the key.
By the time Rawk got there, the guard was lying motionless on the floor. “Is he dead?”
Rake looked at the man speculatively. “I’m not sure. Knocking someone unconscious isn’t like engineering.”
Rawk wasn’t quite sure what that meant. It didn’t matter. If the guard was dead then there was nothing they could do about it now. “So how do we get past the door?” he whispered.
But Kristun was examining the lock and poking at it with some tools.
Rawk was about to ask his question again when the lock clicked and the door swung noisily open. “Oh.”
Kristun turned to look back for a moment and said quietly, “Locksmiths Guild. Why did you think I was here?”
“Well...” Rawk shrugged. He changed the subject. “What’s the point of a lock if opens that easily?”
“Thank you, Kristun. Are you right to keep going?”
The engineer nodded as he gathered his tools. “Probably no point opening this one if I wasn’t.” He stood up and waited for the procession to continue.
Rawk adjusted his mask. “How far is it?”
Rake shrugged. “Unless you can tell me exactly where she is...”
“Of course not.”
“Right, then don’t ask silly questions.”
“You should show me some respect,” Rawk said to him.
Rake smiled, the flickering light of the torch and the shadows conspiring to make it look fierce. He started walking and Rawk was forced to follow again. The dwarf kept talking as they went. “Up here is a stairwell that gives access to all the best cells.” He glanced back. “Best being the ones you want your special prisoners in, not the ones that have the nice view and easy access to the fire escape.”
Rawk didn’t know what dwarves were talking about half the time. He didn’t even bother trying to work it out any more. “So we just look?”
They started to climb, clattering up the narrow, worn stairs in single file. On the landing, the light from their torch merged with another set in a bracket on the wall. Rake set his torch on the floor out of the way.
“Yes. Tell me when you think of a better plan. Now quiet. There will be another door above.” He slowed down and poked his head around the final corner.
Rawk had a look too. There was another barred door just around the corner and a guard sitting on a stool another ten yards beyond that. Safely hidden again, Rawk gestured to Fabi’s bow. “I think you should handle this, Fabi.” He explained the situation.
“So can I get close to the door?”
Rawk shrugged. “If you’re quick. Just make sure the guard doesn’t call out or warn anyone else if you can.”
“You realize I’ll have to kill him, right?”
Rawk took a deep breath. “It’s them or Sylvia.”
Fabi flexed his shoulders and neck as he readied his bow. He went up the last two steps and quickly around the corner. Rawk didn’t see the release but he heard the shaft thrumming through the air, heard it hit something and waited for Fabi’s reaction.
“Done.”
Just a single, quiet word and Rawk felt they had passed the point of no return. He didn’t know why this attack felt like that and the previous one hadn’t. Perhaps because dwarves had taken out the last guard. Or perhaps because he had taken part in this one, no matter how peripherally. Or perhaps because there was a chance the last guard was still alive. Rawk stepped around the corner to look as well. The guard was lying on the floor, green fletched arrow in his back, pool of blood spreading slowly outwards. “Done,” he agreed. He sheathed Kaj as Kristun went to the door and set to work. Rawk tried to keep his focus. He went back to the top of the stairs to keep watch, though they would probably hear someone coming long before they saw them. Fabi came and joined him.
“It’s strange...”
Rawk nodded. “Yes.”
“I’ve spent my whole life killing things— people, exots, you name it— but now...”
“I know. And do you know what the strangest thing is?”
“What?”
“My... reluctance started with the exots, not with people. I started to wonder if I was doing the right thing killing strange magical creatures, then started thinking about what it means to kill people.”
It was Fabi’s turn to nod.
“I’ve been out to see the duen, you know?” Rawk said.
“The what?”
“The trolls. In the forest.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. They’re just people. They just want to be left in peace.”
Fabi nodded slowly, looking uncomfortable.
“I spoke to the father of one of the duen we killed. If anyone was going to kill me, he would.” Rawk sighed. “We killed his entire family.”
Fabi cleared his throat. “I think they’re ready.”
“What?”
“The door’s open.”
“Oh. Right. Let’s get this over with.”
The others were waiting for Rawk this time. He marched through the door without a word and they fell in behind. The passageway was cold and bare and damp. Half a dozen lamps were hanging from the wall, but only three were lit. The pale light reflected sickly off the slimy walls. Cell doors alternated on each side.
Rawk looked in the first cell. The light didn’t reach into the back corners but a man stood by the door, dark hair a wild mess, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Rawk swallowed and moved on. Next there were two men, small and rat like, who could only be brothers. Not twins though. Their entire cell was bathed in light; they would never sleep. Then an old woman, dressed in rags, one eye staring off at a crazy angle. A young man, hardly more than a boy, naked and huddled in the back corner, hiding in the shadows. And a dwife. Her left arm was blistered and weeping. Her face was bruised.
There was a side passage. Pools of dark and light. More cells. Rawk didn’t turn aside. He kept walking all the way to the end of the passage. He stopped there and leaned against the wall, feeling the rough, damp stone through his shirt. He rubbed at his knee.
“What is it, Rawk?”
He shook his head. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “Come on.”
When he started to make his way quietly up the stairs, clinging to the wall, he realized Kaj was still sheathed at his side. He pulled the blade free, gripping the hilt tightly. Before he reached the top, he paused, listening. He could hear something arou
nd the corner, but wasn’t sure that he wanted to look. He stood for a while, heart racing, while he tried to think. He wished he had thought to bring a drink. Someone touched his arm and he almost jumped out of his skin. Kristun gave a rueful shake of his head, then handed Rawk a small square of mirror.
Crouching on the stairs, Rawk held the mirror down near the floor so he could peak around the corner.
After a moment, he motioned for the others to go back down.
“This is it,” he said softly when they were back on the floor below.
“Are you sure?” Fabi asked.
“There’s two guards just around the corner and two others guarding a door at the end of the hall. They all look to be awake.”
“So what do we do?”
“Nothing’s changed. We still have to get Sylvia out.”
“So...”
“So, we kill the guards as quickly as possible. And get her.”
“So, what’s the plan then?”
“I thought I just told you the plan.” Rawk held up a hand as he gave the matter some thought. “We all rush around the corner with Fabi at the front. He shoots someone down by the door, then we keep going.”
“That’s it?” Fabi asked. “Your plans haven’t improved at all.”
“I’m a Hero, not a general.”
“Let’s go then,” Rake said.
Rawk hurried to make sure he was at the front with Fabi. They crept up the stairs, looked at each other, and charged around the corner. Fabi loosed his arrow almost before the guards were in sight. He started to lower his bow, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he drew another arrow as Rawk rushed past.
Rawk ran into the first guard and knocked him over, grunting with the impact. He fell as well, sprawled on top of the man. A sword slid past close to his ribs. Crisp’s sword. The guard stopped moving. Rawk jumped back to his feet, knee throbbing, and turned to the next man, but Frew was already on him. Fabi, Rake and Gunnar arrived like a small avalanche a moment later. The last man by the door was still alive, so Rawk leapt over the man he had felled and hit the floor running. Running slowly, but running. He came to a halt as his opponent raised his sword.
Rawk pushed up his mask, letting some cool air onto his face. “Do you really want to die tonight?”
“Couldn’t surprise me like you did Sargan?”
Rawk smiled. “You guards must gossip like old ladies at a knitting circle.”
The man sneered.
“Well, you’d better get your knitting needle ready.”
Rawk attacked, low then high, and the guard slapped his sword away. But the other man had the door at his back and no room to move. They traded a couple of more blows, the clash of steel ringing around the hallway. There was no other sound. The fighting behind him was over.
“You all done there, Fabi?” He hoped they were. He was going to feel like an idiot if the guards had won. Only for a little while though. He’d probably be dead after that.
“Yeah. Wasn’t much of a challenge at all.”
“Do you need some help?” Rake asked. Rawk heard someone walking down the passage behind him.
“No. I think I should be all right.” He attacked while he was still talking, catching the guard by surprise. But it still wasn’t enough. The swords clanged and clattered. Rawk took a slight prick on his chest as he retreated, then got a slash across his arm as well. He didn’t know the guard, but he was good. He wasn’t flashy, but he was direct and to the point.
Rawk pressed forward again. He slashed and lunged. His knee hurt, he hurt all over, but he only needed a couple of seconds to back the man against the wall. Once, seemingly not long ago, Rawk would have finished the fight without thought. But now all he did was think. He thought about parries and thrusts. He thought about the pain in his arm and in his knee. He thought about fatigue. He thought about the cold stone beneath the soles of his boots and he though about his shadow stretching out before him. And amongst all the thoughts there was hardly time for moving, for being in the moment and reacting to what his opponent did.
Taking a couple of steps back, Rawk took a deep breath and tried to empty his mind. Another deep breath. He swayed aside and let the guard’s sword slip by his chest. Push the blade away with his sword arm, spun, hit the guard with his elbow. He felt the man’s jaw crack but just kept spinning and slashed him across the side.
And that was it. Rawk breathed again. His heart was pounding in a most unheroic way. His hand was shaking so he tightened it around the hilt of Kaj.
He heard someone step up behind him and almost ran them through. “For Path’s sake, Frew, don’t do that.”
The other man ignored him. “That was easy.”
Rawk grunted and tried not to look at the wound on his arm. “Yeah. Simple.”
The guard wasn’t dead yet. He was lying on the floor, groaning, clutching at the wound in his side with spasming hands. Blood pulsed out between his fingers. A moment later two of the dwarves grabbed him and dragged him away from the door. He gurgled a scream before finally dying.
Rawk felt a bit sick. “Kristun, how about that door?”
Kristun came forward with his tools and got to work. He peered into the lock and clicked his tongue. “Quite a bit more complex than the last one.”
“How long will it take?” Rawk asked. “We don’t have all night.”
“Is that a Begmok lock?” Rake asked. “They’re legendary. Almost impossible to pick.”
Rawk could see the word Begmok stamped on a big piece of studded metal on the door. He groaned.
Kristun gave a nod. “Yes, Begmok locks are about the best there are.” He was packing up his tools.
“Have you ever picked one?” Frew asked. “I don’t want to do all of this for nothing.”
Kristun nodded. “Yes, it’s a Begmok. No, I’ve never picked one and I don’t know of anyone who has, but—”
“Path, damn it,” Rawk said. He hacked at the door with his sword and barely even left a mark. He tried to take a breath, to calm himself, but it didn’t work. “Do any of the guards have a key?” The dwarves were way ahead of him and had already gone to check.
“Nothing,” they reported, almost before he had asked.
“What are we going to do?”
Kristun sighed. “It is a Begmok,” he said again, “but...” He reached up and turned the big wheel that worked the lock. There was a click, and a thunk, and the lock opened.
Rawk looked at the dwarf. He looked at the lock. Then he pushed the door open.
“Why would they not even bother to lock it,” Fabi asked.
But the answer was right before them. Sylvia, naked, striped with cuts, bruised and unconscious, was chained to the wall by both hands and feet. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Everyone stood silently for a minute.
Kristun cleared his throat. “Well, those locks I can do.” And eyes on the ground, hands fiddling with his tools, he quickly crossed the room. He set to work immediately and it was only seconds before the first shackle fell away from Sylvia’s ankle. She groaned, but didn’t open her eyes.
Rawk swallowed. “Fabi, your cloak.” He held out his hand without looking and took the cloak when it was given to him. He took it across to Sylvia.
“Guards coming,” Rake said, motioning the dwarves to his side. Frew and Fabi went with them.
Kristun moved to the next shackle. His tools were loud in the echoing silence of the cell.
“I’d guess about a dozen, Rawk. We don’t have time.”
Rawk didn’t move. When the second lock opened and fell away, Rawk motioned to the brass collar that encircled her neck. It wasn’t attached to any chains. “Get that one next.”
“We can do that later.”
“No. Do it now.” His tone didn’t leave any room for more arguing. It was the shackle that contained her magic and it might be the one thing stopping her from waking. He wasn’t sure if waking her right now was a good idea, but he knew leaving her asleep was definit
ely a bad idea. They had to get her down the stairs. They had to...
This one took longer. It seemed to take forever. Each second took a lifetime.
The clash of swords suddenly filled the hallway. Men screamed. Rawk had a quick look and saw that his companions had made it to the high ground at the top of the narrow staircase, but he knew the advantage might not help indefinitely. More screams.
The collar fell away and Sylvia groaned again. She writhed and blood began to dribble down her wrists. Rawk shook away some of his own stupor and finally thought to support her weight. Kristun didn’t slow. He went to work on the next lock, muttering to himself, tools clenched between his teeth. When the shackle finally opened, Sylvia slumped to one side but seemed to weigh nothing at all. Rawk struggled to get the cloak about her shoulders. His fingers fumbled with the clasp. But when Kristun finally finished his work, Rawk scooped her up and immediately headed for the door.
At the top of the stairs, Fabi fired two arrows in quick succession. The first one missed, but the second one tore through the neck of a man attacking Rake. The dwarf didn’t pause, shifting his attention to the next opponent. Rawk stood behind the fight with Kristun. Frew, was just in front of him, stabbing through the front line every now and then, hoping to distract somebody if nothing else. Fabi took down another two, but each shot was risky and he spent most of the time looking frustrated.
Rawk knew how he felt. He wanted to put Sylvia down and draw Kaj, but there was no room. If his services were required it was probably too late anyway.
A writhing mass of shadows danced on the walls.
One of the dwarves missed a block and yelled wordlessly as his hand was sliced open. Frew dragged him clear, even as he kicked and shouted and kept trying to fight, and jumped into the breach. His extra reach let him kill two men quickly and the rest back away. And that let Fabi take out another. The dead man fell backwards, hitting the stairs with a wet thud, and the rest scrambled over him as they tried to flee.
“Hold,” Rake called.
Rawk wanted to give chase, but decided that holding was probably a good idea. “We don’t want to give them too much time to regroup or find support.” He drew in some deep breaths though holding Sylvia wasn’t much of an effort at all.
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