More noises sounded from behind him – hushed voices and then doors – and in a blink of his eye the spirit was gone, leaving behind the rough ceiling with its mouldy green stain in the corner. Suddenly something was strapped down on his head, so tight it tugged at the roots of his hair and pulled tears from his eyes. Whimpering, he jerked against his bonds and cried out, voice hoarse. He was faced with the cold slide of certainty that he could scream and scream and scream and no one would come to save him. He longed for Niks to speak to him so badly he nearly imagined her there, glowing that soft green with eyes of a fiery red.
A crackling sound was his only warning before pain seared through his body, lightning hot. Hot like lightning, but Seeker was no longer the master of the storm. He screamed, body shuddering. It was excruciating. He couldn’t think. All he could feel was pain. The smell of burning flesh. The horror of knowing it was his.
And then nothing.
*
The bench was tucked out of the way, in a small clearing with a pond and a few squares of neatly trimmed grass. Kilai sat and pulled out a book so as to look occupied, holding it up to her face so that she could peer over it at anyone who approached. This early there were few people out and about in the city, the air cool despite a clear blue sky, and she tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders with a shiver. She didn’t know how long she would have to wait. Janus had promised her the soldier would come but she was doubtful.
After their escapades the night before her head felt tender, something she now regretted when they would both have to be sharp and focused to carry out their plan. Somehow despite having downed a lot more glasses than she Janus had woken up early, as alert as he always seemed to be, even if he looked physically more haggard than normal, all drooping dark circles and bone pale skin.
“I’ve read that one,” said a voice behind her. “It’s the literary equivalent of standing on laisok droppings.”
Kilai started, whipping around to see the soldier with the red beard, squinting bleary eyed in the sunlight. His freckled skin was tinged with pink, like he was still flushed from the alcohol, and his green eyes were bloodshot. Hunched over, he moved around the bench to stand before her, eyes darting this way and that before they came back to her. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”
She stood, sweeping down her skirts. They were beyond salvageable with their hacked off hems but some habits were hard to stamp out. “We need to meet with Janus before we go in. He’s going to need the keys.”
“Speaking of, where is the scoundrel?”
“Scoping out the building so we know what we’re getting ourselves into. Here, let me take your arm.” She reached out only for the man to leap away from her like she, a good head and a half shorter, could possibly hope to hurt a man like him.
Kilai sighed. “It will look more natural if we walk arm-in-arm. Then we are naught but a harmless couple out for an early morning stroll on such a pleasant morning.”
He narrowed his eyes at her before eventually stepping towards her and thrusting out his good arm. “If you absolutely must.” His other was still bound to his chest. In the bright light of day his swollen eye looked even worse, bruise yellowing around the corners.
Kilai slipped her hand through the loop of his arm and tugged him along. Surprise must have made him pliant for he was broad-chested and clearly a lot stronger. Still, brawn meant little without brain to direct it and she did not think he was the brightest gem in the store. That was fine. It would make things easier for her.
“Your accent is very good,” he said suddenly, pausing upon the bridge to watch a water carriage pass beneath, lykki churning up water that reflected the cloudless sky above. Between the two of them, they had naturally fallen into speaking the standard Sonlin language. There were dialects, of course, but she had only been taught High Sonlin, considered the language’s most ‘pure’ form.
“Yes, I studied as a child. My tutor was very thorough.”
He snorted. “Must be nice to afford all that. Tutors and the like.”
Her grip tightened on his arm, nails digging into the meat of his bicep. “My family are all dead.”
He coughed. “I’m glad mine are all dead.”
She arched a brow at him. “Was that your attempt at sympathy?”
Ivor shrugged. “I’ve never been too good at it.”
“No wonder you’re friends with Lakazar.”
Skidding to a stop, he halted her with him. “Oh, no. Let’s establish something first. I am not, have never been, and never will be, friends with Janus Lakazar. This is a business arrangement. After which we will go our separate ways, okay?”
“Can we go now?”
An incredulous noise sounded in his throat. Shaking his head, he stalked off with her still attached to his arm, her legs wheeling to keep pace with him. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she focused back on their task, her eyes surveying their surroundings now that they were approaching the Onyx Plaza, the grand tree in the centre looming on the horizon with its fiery red canopy. Beneath she could make out a lone figure sitting on the bench that faced the building where they were keeping Rook and Viktor, lounging with his arms resting on the back and smoke curling up between the red leaves.
“Did you see anything interesting?” she said to Janus once within speaking distance.
“Quite a lot of traffic in and out. Seems like they’re preparing for something.”
“That is the vaguest thing I have ever heard. What are they preparing for?”
Kilai looked at Ivor. “Why don’t you tell us? Aren’t you the one we should be asking that to?”
Ivor raised his palms. “How in our great and wonderful universe am I supposed to know that? Do you think we’re all part of a hive mind? Linked at the brain?” He tapped a finger against his temple. “Should I send out a signal and see what comes back?”
“Must you always be this melodramatic?”
“Yes,” Ivor and Janus said in unison.
She snorted. “Well, save it for in there if you could. I am going to go in there and start a scene, during which I need you to slip past and locate the warden’s keys. When you get them you can give them to Janus and leave and your part in this can be over.”
“Couldn’t he just take my jacket and do it himself?”
“You’re the one who has been in there before. You’re the one who knows where the warden’s office is and where he keeps his keys.”
“I’ve been in there before. That’s it. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Anything else before we go?” she asked Janus, ignoring Ivor.
“Don’t get caught out by yourself. Stay in the main hall. Something isn’t right in there.”
Kilai met his eye, seeing the seriousness there. Just what could he have seen that had made him feel so wary? It set her on edge to see the unflappable Janus lean forward on his thighs, eyes boring into the direction just past her shoulder. Glancing back to a building that was fairly innocuous, smaller and less extravagant than those around it, she steeled herself as best as she could, mulling over every possible scenario.
With a straight back, chin held high, she marched towards the entrance with the poised gait of a lady who was used to getting what she wanted, feeling rather than seeing Ivor’s presence hovering behind her. She wasn’t entirely certain this was going to work but she supposed it didn’t really matter. All she had to do was to provide enough of a distraction that Ivor and Janus were able to get Rook and Viktor out of there. She spared a glance for Ivor. “Wait until they’re distracted before you go in.”
Then Kilai marched in, making sure her boots stamped as much as possible across the marble floor to attract the attention of the soldiers in the room. In the corner of the room was a desk with a man slumped behind it. His posture straightened when he saw her, eyes boggling over round frames as if she was some kind of mystical creature the likes of which he had never seen.
“Miss you cannot be in here unless you have authorisation.�
�
“Who is in charge here?”
Taken aback by her cold demand, he cocked his head, appraising. “That would be Lieutenant Yrill.”
“Bring me this Lieutenant I wish to speak to them.” What she would say was still unknown to her but it was worth a shot.
“I cannot interrupt the Lieutenant from her work at your whims. Now you best leave before I have you escorted from the premises.”
“Have you any idea who I am?” she snapped, watching him flinch. “I am of a noble household to these islands. How dare you invade our lands and then think you can tell me what to do? This kind of behaviour is preposterous! No wonder everyone abhors the soldiers here so. Why, I have just the mind to take this to the press and see what they have to say about this matter!”
“I think you’ll find the press have better things to be writing about than the whining of an entitled girl like yourself,” he replied but he kept checking around him, wary.
“Not when I tell them that I have been treated abysmally by men of the Empire! I’m sure what your endeavour needs is more bad public opinion, when already it is so low. Why, I’m sure Lord Sandson himself would love to hear about this.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ivor and Janus stride past as if they belonged there, Janus throwing her a subtle nod. She had no idea what she was really saying and was only half listening to the man before her, too busy taking account of her surroundings. In a building this large she had no idea where Rook or Viktor would be stored but between Janus and Ivor she would have to hope they worked it out. A pair of burly men were approaching the counter, presumably to throw her from the premises.
“...think you’ll find that this ‘Lord’ Sandson has no jurisdiction here anyway so you may do as you wish. This isn’t a public forum where you may take your views, this is a private military facility which you should never have entered.”
Ivor poked his head around the door and dangled the keys in her direction.
“Oh, of course, please forgive my ignorance but it looks like I have the wrong building.” Kilai smiled sweetly at his baffled expression. “If you would just excuse me I will take my leave now.” And before security could catch her she scurried back out.
At the entrance she scanned the area before bolting off down a narrow street that spat her out onto the edge of another canal. Glancing behind her, she saw they hadn’t followed and paused to draw breath, leaning over on her thighs. A few citizens glanced at her curiously but she didn’t have the energy to care. All that really mattered was that her performance had been enough to get Ivor and Janus through the entrance. She could only hope the two of them would be able to evade capture themselves, for if they got caught she had no chance of rescuing them all by herself.
Kilai did not like to rely on others when she wanted something done. But for now she had no other choice. So she walked back to her bench and buried her nerves behind the shield of her book. Now she had to wait.
*
Rook awoke to silence. Eerie, cold, inexplicable silence. Unwinding her stiff limbs, she stretched out and peered over to the adjacent cell only to find Seeker missing. Heart leaping, she scanned around the gloomy row of cells to discover she was completely alone, not another soul in sight. Normally she would have stirred at any movements around her, especially if someone had come to take the soldier in the cell next to hers, but she had been so drained that she had crashed into a deep and dreamless sleep which had cocooned her from the world.
Disturbed by being left alone, she couldn’t get herself to sit still, prowling the few paces her chain would allow her to try and get the blood flowing again in her legs. Pressed to a stone floor during the night had only wound her tight and her joints creaked in protest. Questions tumbled one after another in her mind. Had the same person come for him as had Viktor? What had they done with him? Would they come for her too? The coppery taste of blood shocked her into realising she was biting her lip and she wiped it away, worried.
As much as she hated to do it, she couldn’t help but draw down into the well to bring up her power, feeling The Rook flare to life in her mind. Casting her senses out, she concentrated on the various threads of energy around her until she felt a presence tug sharply, sending a wave of malicious energy that had her reeling backwards, a hiss ripping from her lips. With a deep breath she pushed down the anger and fear of The Rook and attempted to probe at the feeling. There was a powerful riftspawn nearby, strong enough to make her gag.
The energy spiked suddenly, bright white light flashing before her eyes and she fell to her knees with a shriek as pain thundered through her skull. Huddled up, she cradled her knees to her chest and whimpered. It felt like black tar had been poured down her throat, leaving a queasy feeling in her stomach. Overwhelming, potent, toxic, she rocked herself back and forth for what must have been an hour in recovery, using her breathing to anchor her back to reality. When she finally felt capable of sitting up again, the room spinning briefly before she righted herself, she scraped at two trails of crusted blood beneath her nostrils. She felt like she might vomit but managed to keep a hold of her stomach, able to think again.
It wasn’t until some time later that the sound of footsteps echoed outside of the door and then stone scraped on stone, creating a sharp whine that pierced her sensitive ears. With her hands still clutching her face, she peered up as two soldiers dragged an unconscious body towards the adjacent cell, his feet dragging along the ground. It was the soldier – Seeker. Still alive, she could tell, but barely. His heartbeat fluttered rapid and weak like a hummingbird. They left him propped against the wall, a sagging sack of limbs.
Fear struck her as the two soldiers paused outside of his cell, metal ringing as the door slammed shut. Would they take her now? Do to her what had been done to the man next to her? For a moment she thought she saw their eyes glistening in the dark, looking in her direction, and she shivered, hands clenched tight in the roughspun fabric of her trousers. She would fight them if they tried. She would show them why the world feared the legend of the beserker.
But then they passed by and she slumped over with a gasp as the door opened and clanged shut again, leaving her with the unconscious soldier and a punch of restless energy she had gathered in preparation for a fight. Using the bars, she pulled herself upright and peered through the rusty slats. The man remained upright but his head lolled, motionless. The stench of fouled spiritual energy wafted from him and she could hear the faint tremor of a pulse but anything else was hard to detect even with her enhanced senses, now singed with the black energy.
“Hello,” she ventured, hearing the uncertainty in her voice. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing. It raised gooseflesh up her arms, to see him sit there with blank eyes unseeing. His lids weren’t even fully closed, faint light from the window shining in them. He looked like a doll propped up like that, bent at an unnatural angle and utterly lifeless. What in the Locker had they done to him?
Can you hear me? This time she tried using The Rook’s voice, probing gently at his mind.
Nothing. When she touched his consciousness there was a strange vibration that tickled her senses, making it hard for her to push down any further. As curious as she was, she feared what she might find if she did, the way he lay there with his head lurching to the side a signpost for his mental state. She shuddered. At the very least they could have closed his eyelids. It was disturbing for him to stare back at her like that.
Rook had just about worked up the courage to try again when she heard voices echoing down the corridor. “...Told you that I don’t know from here. No, this way.”
Scooting back until she was cast in the shadows beneath the window, a hazy grey light filtering through from the break of morning, she waited.
The other voice murmured too quietly for her ears to pick up. She wasn’t as confident at interpreting the Sonlin language, of which she knew enough to get by and no more.
“How should I know? You’re the one who made me do thi
s. You figure it out.”
And then shadows danced across the walls, stretching and morphing into strange, alien shapes. Maybe this was the soldiers now come to take her and do to her whatever had been done to the man in the next cell. She grabbed hold of the chain around her ankle, prepared to use it as a weapon if she had to.
But these men sounded different. Hesitant, uncertain. They did not march like they belonged. A lingering curiosity had her shuffling forward just as a familiar face appeared before her. Relief crashed over her like the break of the tide, sweeping away all the tension until she trembled with it. “Janus,” she breathed. “You came for me.”
The other man appeared behind him. Tall, broad, with a fire-tinged beard and a bandaged arm strapped to his chest, myriad cuts and bruises adorning his face. She pulled back, confusion drawing her brows. “That’s him!” she exclaimed.
At the same time, he pointed at her and said, “You!”
Janus glanced between them as both their gazes fell upon him. “Rook, meet Ivor. Ivor, meet Rook.”
“No. Oh curse you all, no. I am playing nice with the one who did this to me. Do I have ‘fool’ written across my forehead? Do I look like I have stitches up the back? No way.”
Janus shrugged. “You are free to leave. Need the keys, though.”
The man slapped them into his palm but did not move, almost as if he couldn’t fight his need to see it play out.
Rook didn’t understand what was going on – why they seemed to know one another on some level – but she didn’t have time to question it. The first priority was getting out of there. Then they could all work out what was going on.
“How is Viktor?”
Janus blinked at her with his key in the door. “Why you asking me?”
She froze, tilting her head. “He’s not with you? Sandson didn’t get him out?”
“Sandson doesn’t have jurisdiction here. It’s why I’m here.”
The Reaping Season Page 23