by Olivia Ash
“Sorry to interrupt. But we’re about to be raided. Over seventy troops are heading this way.”
Ezekiel set Sophia down and faced Edric. “Did you see any sorcerers with them?” He rushed through the room, making sure his wards were still in place on the windows and doors, adding in extra power and energy to each.
“I don’t know,” Edric said. “Maybe. There were a couple of men not in uniform.”
That could mean they were able to get a capable, powerful sorcerer from outside of Nighthelm faster than expected. Ezekiel thought he would have more time to prepare, to amass magical weapons they were going to need. However, it was more likely that Winston and those he’d been able to sway to embrace his bogus cause were impatient and trying to catch him and his group off guard. Either that, or they had underestimated his power, which was a terrible move on Winston’s part.
As Ezekiel checked the ward on the front door, Andreas’s black smoke form floated through. He shifted back to his human form and said, “We have a huge problem.”
“I know.” Ezekiel rushed back into the dining room where Edric and Sophia were arming up. Andreas followed him.
“I’m going to cast an enchantment that won’t allow any intruders to see us, even if they get into the house,” he said.
“How did they even find us?” Sophia asked. “And so soon?”
Ezekiel paused in his casting to address her concern. “The amount of power it takes to keep these wards up could be detected by extremely powerful sorcerers. If Winston was able to contact one outside of Nighthelm, it is possible the sorcerer picked up on the enchantments nearby which could have alerted them to our location.”
“Or there is a spy,” Edric said. “Winston may have swayed some men to his side. He may have had eyes on us the entire time without us being aware of the fact. As careful as we were, I’m afraid we may not have taken everything into consideration.”
Andreas unsheathed the blades strapped to his back. “Your enchantment, does it allow us to fight them? Will they be able to feel my steel?”
“You can’t interact with them or the spell fails, and you will be seen, which will alert everyone to our presence. That has to be a last resort only. Otherwise, avoid contact at all costs.” He made his way toward the bar counter and pulled open a tote he left there, full of his supplies. Pulling out a small jar, he unscrewed the lid then took Edric’s arm. Edric tried to pull away, but Ezekiel held firm.
Edric’s eyes widened. “Strong grip.”
“Thanks,” Ezekiel said as he tucked Edric’s arm under his, holding it firmly in place as he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up, twisted off the lid of the container, and dipped his finger in the substance, pulling out a dark-green, ink like liquid.
Edric asked, “What are you doing?”
“Hold still.” Using his finger covered in the thick substance, he drew a T, a circle above that, an arrow through the straight line of the T, and a small swirl at the bottom. “This will connect us and make you invisible to others. We’ll be able to see you, but no one else will.”
He drew the same sigil on Sophia and Andreas’s forearms.
“Feels weird,” Edric said.
Ezekiel looked at Edric, taking in the confused expression that covered his face. He shook his head. “That means it’s working.”
Shouts echoed from outside. Through the window, Ezekiel saw a stream of men charging toward the inn.
“Andreas and I will take the back,” Edric said, and he and Andreas raced out of the room toward the rear entrance of the inn where Ezekiel was certain more soldiers gathered, ready to break in.
A bang knocked at the front door. Ezekiel and Sophia moved toward it, listening to the voices on the other side.
“There’s nothing here,” one man said, a solider most likely.
“Just keep swinging that thing. They are here, the inn is just enchanted.” That voice belonged to Lewyss, another sorcerer from the castle, and a man Ezekiel didn’t like.
Lewyss had always been jealous of Ezekiel and the clout he had earned with those in power. Obviously, that clout hadn’t done a single thing, since sorcerers and guards were knocking down his door to arrest him and everyone he cared about. They would likely have them banished to the mountain.
Another loud bang rattled the wooden door. The wood splintered, and a battering ram burst through. Troops swarmed through the shattered door, swords raised and ready. Three sorcerers followed. One of them was Lewyss, and Ezekiel had to tamp down the urge to reach past his enchantment and strangle him. The other two were Palleas and Udal, both of whom he called friends.
Sophia clung to his arm. She gave him a pointed look that said he’d better not. She must have seen the intention in his eyes.
There was another crash from the back of the house, and Ezekiel assumed soldiers had broken down the back door. The sound of at least fifty sets of boots stomping through the inn echoed through the walls, nearly shaking the foundation.
As guards tore apart each room, the three sorcerers stood by and watched. Ezekiel saw the reluctance on Palleas and Udal’s faces, and the glee in Lewyss’s.
“This is wrong,” Palleas said. “Ezekiel has always been a loyal servant of Nighthelm. He would never conspire to destroy it.”
“There has to be a reason the duchess would allow this,” Udal said.
“She’s being influenced by that Winston Kent,” Palleas said with a sneer. “Such a boorish man. Who knows what sort of manipulation he’s pulled on her.”
Lewyss joined the two sorcerers in the living room. “Ezekiel has always been weak, especially around women. I can just imagine how the contritum bitch lured him to her side,” Lewyss said. His lecherous grin made Ezekiel’s hands clench into fists. “I look forward to taking his place in the castle.”
Both Palleas and Udal turned and left the house. Ezekiel appreciated their loyalty and imagined they had been forced to join the raiding party. Winston probably used their loyalty and friendship as a means to hold them accountable for the crimes Winston claimed Ezekiel and his friends had committed.
Traps Ezekiel had set started to go off. An electrical zapping sound here, and a sizzling fire there. Screams filtered through the rooms and smoke poured through in thick clouds.
Time to go.
Ezekiel grabbed Sophia’s hand and started to make their way through the inn to where Andreas and Edric were, so they could collect themselves and leave. As soon as he took a step toward the hall that would lead them to their freedom, Winston Kent stepped into the doorway, looking ever like the distraught little boy who didn’t get his favorite Winter’s Giving gift he had asked for all year long. His eyes raked right over him and Sophia, jaws clenched and fists tight at his sides. Winston spotted Lewyss and marched right toward him.
The traitor himself conferred with the man who vied for Ezekiel’s position as top sorcerer. He seemed positively gleeful at the prospect of replacing him. He forced back a groan.
“The enchantments and wards on the house are strong,” Lewyss said. “The best course of action is to burn it all down.”
Winston shook his head. “No.”
“Why not? It’s the best way. Fire will destroy all the wards and enchantments, and if the traitors are still here, it will burn them down too.”
“Do the job I’m paying you for and break the wards,” Winston barked. “Or you can go back to the castle with your tail between your legs and continue being the bottom feeder that you are.”
Lewyss huffed and walked out of the room.
Winston walked through directly in front of them and stopped in the middle of the room, his gaze taking in the casting circle and the grooves that Haris’s hooves had made. Squinting, he surveyed the whole room. A small smile crossed his face.
“Sophia will be mine, one way or another,” he murmured.
Ezekiel wondered if Winston knew he was there, listening. He must’ve known they were still in the house, or he would’ve ordered it all to be razed the grou
nd. Like Lewyss had said, it was the best way to be certain.
Now that Winston was alone, this could be his chance to take him out before he did any more damage. He slowly made his way across the room, careful not to give his position away. Winston was quick with his blade. Ezekiel had watched the man train before, and he didn’t want a knife in this throat.
“And those filthy wraiths,” Winston said. “Refusing to join me. I’m not surprised, all those beasts are loyal to each other, even traitors.”
Sophia crept around Ezekiel, cautiously moving behind Winston. Her hands flexed over her sword and dagger, ready to attack. Tiny sparks sizzled on the tips of her gloved fingers. That was most definitely new. She shifted her gaze to his.
He shook his head and mouthed, “Don’t.”
She clenched her hands and pressed her lips tightly together. Her shoulders raised with the deep breath she took. She closed her eyes as her lips pursed and her shoulders dropped. The sparks disappeared.
Ezekiel slid his dagger out of its sheath on his belt and took a step closer to Winston. Before he could slide his knife into the man, an explosion rocked the house, knocking him off balance. The trap to his room had gone off. They had little time left before the final trap was found and the entire skeleton of the inn would come crashing down on top of them. Either him, Sophia, Andreas, and Edric would get out of here before that happened, or Winston and his band of people would.
More black smoke billowed through the doorway into the hall. Rapid, uneven thumps rushed down the stairs. Guards ran out, clutching at their eyes, screaming. Some of them were covered in the powder that caused the black smoke. Ezekiel smiled to himself. He was quite proud of that trap. It worked rather well by the looks of the poor bastards that triggered it.
Winston ran past them and was the first out the door. He even pushed aside an injured soldier to get there.
Run, coward, run.
Sophia dropped to the floor, covering Ezekiel’s body with hers. He hugged her as the remaining guards streamed out of the house. They had won this round, but barely. Ezekiel would have to repair the damage of the traps and reset them on top of creating stronger wards. Never mind that next time, if there was a next time—he was sure there would be—Winston would return with someone powerful. Someone Ezekiel wouldn’t be able to scare away or out-magic. They had to come up with a plan to leave the inn, to leave Nighthelm.
Chapter Seven
Andreas
Andreas accompanied Edric to rendezvous with one of his trusted contacts in the guard. Like shadows in the night, they moved through the city, careful of the added patrols on the streets until they arrived in an alleyway next to an eerily quiet pub. On most nights, lively music and animated conversation poured from the stone building. The propaganda against him and his team achieved the desired effects. They were proclaimed as people to be feared, to be counted among the rumors of darker things and moving shadows lurking at night, ready to seize innocent citizens. And Nighthelm’s uncharacteristic silence was evident of the fear the duchess and Winston placed in the people.
They waited a good while before a large man wearing guard armor stepped into the shadows of the alleyway.
“What’s the word, Malcolm?” Edric asked.
He looked deep into the dark behind Edric and said, “You’re either a brave man or a stupid one to be out on the streets this night.” He glanced toward the street as the sound of armor clanging together grew louder. Mere breaths later, two guards ran past the mouth of the alley. “It’s not safe for either of you. Your wanted posters are everywhere.”
“We need you to infiltrate the castle and find some information on the heirs. We need names, ages, and if possible, their last known whereabouts.”
Malcolm frowned. “The heirs? The heirs are dead. What good would that information be now?”
“We have reason to believe that the heirs are alive,” Edric said.
Malcolm shook his head. “Maybe they are. Maybe they aren’t. All I know is you and your people need to get out of Nighthelm. Fast.” He rubbed at the stubble on his pointed chin. He huffed and looked around again. Once he returned his gaze to Edric and Andreas, he leaned in closer and in a low voice said, “A massive hunt is being organized. One that makes the attack today look like a sparring match. Word is, Winston pulled strings to get Tryce Klatrix here to the city.”
Andreas rolled his eyes and groaned. He didn’t have to be a sorcerer or run in their circles to know who Tryce Klatrix was. His name preceded him as the best sorcerer of his time. Not only was he rumored to be powerful, but also ruthless. Andreas could only guess at what Ezekiel would do once he heard the news.
“Everyone within Nighthelm will come for you the moment Tryce arrives,” Malcolm said.
“When is he anticipated to arrive?” Edric asked.
Andreas saw the concern on Edric’s face. He probably knew more about Tryce than Andreas did, having been commander of the guard and privy to its strategic secrets.
“Within a week. Maybe less. You should be long gone by then.”
Edric nodded. Andreas felt the pit of his stomach clench. So soon. Somehow, they will have to find the heirs while on the run from the damning eyes of all of Nighthelm. Sophia would be disappointed for sure. There had to be a way to still restore the heirs and keep their heads, figuratively and literally.
Malcolm’s words interrupted Andreas’s thoughts. “I’ll try to get into the castle for you, but I don’t have access to the restricted sections since Winston doesn’t trust me.” Malcolm snorted. “Smartest thing that man has ever done.”
“Be careful,” Edric said. “Don’t do anything reckless on my behalf.”
“Oh, I’m always careful, friend. Although, knowing who to trust has grown increasingly difficult. Especially those within the ranks. Lots of men trying to save their own asses by turning on you. Marlow was particularly pleased to have a chance to take your place as commander.”
Edric shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He always wanted my position. Never let me forget it either. Not very pleasant to be around.”
Malcolm snorted. “Yeah, even promising rank and title to whoever joins behind him.”
Andreas frowned, disgusted to hear about Edric’s own men betraying him, but he kept his mouth shut. It was a human trait he could never understand. Wraiths never turned on each other. Their brotherhood was for life.
Edric shook Malcolm’s hand. “Thank you, my friend.”
Malcolm then offered his hand to Andreas, who took it.
“If I find anything, I’ll send word,” Malcolm said. “But if I were you, I would abandon the fruitless quest to find the heirs and get out of Nighthelm before it’s too late.” He slunk out of the alleyway and out onto the street.
If anyone other than Sophia had been searching for the heirs, Andreas would also think their quest was fruitless. The truth was, they didn’t have a lead, and they had no idea how they would survive a trek into the mountain on a wild goose chase for the long-lost heirs. But Andreas believed in Sophia and the wisdom of the oracles. The heirs had to be alive if the oracles were trying to restore them to the throne with Sophia’s help.
Faith was a fickle thing, though. It meant believing in something without any evidence. Wraiths grew up with that kind of faith in the royal family. How many times had he been out in the Witch Woods to wait for a messenger from the mountain about the heirs? Too many to count. Andreas’s faith was now devoted to Sophia.
When they returned to the inn, Ezekiel already had new, stronger wards up and the air felt thick and heavy when they walked through the invisible wall. Andreas knew only they could enter because Ezekiel would’ve set the protections to allow him and Edric through. Otherwise, they probably would’ve walked right into a wall as hard and unyielding as stone.
Once inside, they found Ezekiel hard at work, cleaning up what the guards destroyed, and some of the guards themselves. Andreas didn’t even want to think about what he stepped on as he en
tered the room and was especially grateful that he found himself in Ezekiel’s good graces.
“Where’s Sophia?” Edric asked.
“Upstairs in a bath. I told her she needed to relax, if only for an hour.” Ezekiel barely looked up from his work as he continued to clean.
Andreas was surprised he’d been able to get Sophia to do that. He suspected if he snuck up the stairs to her room, she would most likely be swinging her sword, training to fight, instead of sitting in a hot bath.
“What did you find out?” Ezekiel asked, as he dipped a rag into the bucket of soapy water he was cleaning with.
“Tryce Klatrix is supposedly on his way to Nighthelm,” Andreas said.
Ezekiel wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wondered who they would pay to help them.”
“Do you know him?” Edric asked.
He nodded with a sigh. His head hung a bit lower as he seemed to stare at a spot in front of him. “I met him once, years ago, during my travels through the country.”
“And?” Edric asked.
“I was present when he skinned a siren alive with only his magic.” Ezekiel wiped his mouth again. He closed his eyes as a grim line sealed his lips. “Her screams still haunt me.”
“That’s barbaric,” Andreas said.
Ezekiel nodded. “The man has no compassion. I’m not even sure he has any humanity.”
“We need to head to the mountain,” Edric said. “As soon as possible.”
“I’ll need time to prepare some tonics to aid us inside the rock. I may need to risk a trip to my estate for some additional supplies. They’ll help keep some of the effects at bay, but if we are down there longer than a few days…” He shook his head, not needing to finish the sentence.
They had all heard stories about what happened to people inside the dark magical wilds of the mountain. Those who did manage to get out were never the same. Not only did their bodies wither away to skin and bone, but their minds deteriorated as well. No one had ever been able to fully communicate the truth of what lay inside the cold darkness.