“But then – who came to get Viktor?” She spared a glance at the soldier in the next cell and felt her blood run cold. Was it possible that they had done the same things to Viktor? Horrible images crossed her mind, of him being subjected to myriad forms of torture, each more gruesome than the last. She shook the thoughts from her head. “Someone came for him. I don’t know what happened.”
Janus’ eyes flickered towards the adjacent cell.
“It’s the soldier. The one from the temple. But he’s different – he doesn’t have his powers anymore. I can’t explain it but it’s like he lost the bond.”
Janus kept staring, stepping towards to the cell as if hypnotised. Bone white fingers curled around the bars as he raked his gaze over Seeker’s slumped form, lips pressing together. If Rook didn’t know any better, she would have said he looked shaken.
“Are we going or not?” said the redhead. “If this takes any longer I’m leaving you to rot down here. Both of you.”
Conflicted, Rook took a step towards freedom and then back towards Janus. Should she leave him here? It didn’t seem right to just walk away but she wasn’t sure if there was anything left there to save. Since he had returned from wherever he had been taken he hadn’t moved an inch, still staring lifeless into her cell. Even when she used her senses she couldn’t feel any flare of life from within, as if he was functioning on a basic level and no more. Still, they should at least try. She opened her mouth to say just that when voices rang out nearby, rising in alarm.
Jumping to attention, she grabbed Janus’ arm. He looked at her, saw the conflict in her eyes, and nodded. “Time to go,” he said.
The other soldier was already halfway down the corridor and she had to run to catch him up, keeping an ear out for the sound of approaching footsteps. Beneath the ground the corridors weaved and intertwined in a dense rabbit warren, leaving her lost and disorientated after days in the dark and cold. Reliant on the two men in front of her to lead the way, she focused on maintaining her connection to The Rook despite the lingering fear of the creature that had overwhelmed her. She couldn’t sense it now but that only made her warier.
“We can get out this way,” said the red-bearded soldier when Janus stopped, facing the opposite corridor.
“Hold on,” she said. “I need to get my riftblades and my books.”
“Your books?” exclaimed the soldier. “Are you witless? Leave the books and go! Our heads are worth more, thank you. At least neither of you will be shot for treason.”
“They’re not just any books. These are from the Order of the Riftkeepers. I need those books.”
Janus nodded. He placed a hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “We’ll go back. You can go.”
“Oh, how magnanimous of you, you witless pair of fools!” The man scoffed, shaking his head as he began to stalk off. “If you need an escape, these tunnels will take you out past the docks!” His voice echoed up the dark hallway as he turned and disappeared from view.
Rook arched a brow at him.
“Knew him once. Sort of. Not a bad fellow when it comes down to it. All bark with no bite.”
“Do you think Viktor is all right?”
“Couldn’t say.” Janus paused at a set of stone steps that led up to a thick stone door with iron inlets, looking left and right. From his jacket he pulled out a revolver and continued on. “Don’t know who would come for him if not us or Sandson.” Examining the keys, he sampled a few in the lock.
“What do you think it means?” Too many possibilities tumbled through her mind. The men from his old gang like the strange sharp-eyed man that had travelled with them across the sea to Yllaizlo. Or the soldiers strapping him down while they plucked him apart piece by piece. Or some other unknown piece upon a board she couldn’t see, somehow aware of the power he possessed. She froze, considering. With her abilities she had been able to track the potent smoky scent of his signature. It made sense that others would be able to, too. The question remained: who had tracked him down and for what purpose?
With a satisfying click the lock gave. The door creaked uncomfortably loud as he pushed it open. Beyond was another corridor – the building was an endless maze of them – only airier, lined with windows, and the floor a pale marble instead of grey stone. An alabaster bust of an unknown figure guarded another door, proud chin aloft and a doughy face topped with ringlets.
Janus eyed her contemplatively. “Seems you had a thought.”
“No, I mean – I was able to track you when you ran – which I still haven’t forgiven you for, by the way.” She jabbed him on the chest to punctuate her words. “But if I was able to track him, well, only Var Kunir knows how many others are able to do that. There could be so many out there that have abilities I don’t even know about. That’s why I need to find these books.”
“You will be able to track him again. Let’s get out of here first and then we can find him.”
Instead of taking the door past the bust he took her down the corridor’s length, curving around gently until they came to a small hall with several doors shooting off in different directions. Upon the wall a painting of a meadow took centre framing, the rest of the room a stark white that threw the room into a cold, detached kind of light. Muscles tensed, she eased up a little when she saw there was no one there, creeping over the floor on light feet.
“Where do you think they’re likely to keep things?”
Janus shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Most likely somewhere with security.”
“We can’t search the whole building! We’ll be here for days.”
Janus grabbed her arm just as she heard the murmur of voices, the two of them pressing into an alcove as a man and a woman passed by, not sparing them a glance. She heaved a sigh of relief. Mercifully it seemed like they had not realised they were gone yet but the clock was ticking down the minutes. They would have to be quick in searching the rooms – and careful – for if they were caught it was all over. If Sandson couldn’t then get them out, they were done for. She wasn’t sure how wily even Janus could be from the other side of the bars and with the way they were reacting to rift-gifted abilities using The Rook was the absolute last resort.
“This way,” murmured Janus, leading her through an open archway towards a round room of more doors. Nothing was sign-posted. It made it impossible to tell where they were.
“How big is this place? I can’t tell where I came in from?” she said, looking around.
“Many of the buildings connect in clusters. So many of them are bridged by water that it was easier to have ways to move around by joining newer builds to the older ones. Where it might look like several different structures from the outside, quite often it’s only one on the inside.”
Rook craned her head, peering up at the high ceilings. “Doesn’t seem very secure.”
“Back in those days only the very richest royals and nobles would have lived here. They would have owned all the buildings and had them connected for easier movement. The city can be bad for flooding during the wetter seasons.”
“And now they all belong to the Empire.”
“Mm.”
Coming across a bookshelf that stretched the length of an entire wall, Rook drew towards it like it possessed a magnetic pull, fingers reaching out to skim the spines of the books. Many of the titles she couldn’t read properly, the foreign characters vaguely familiar but not enough that she could decipher every word. Some were names – of famous war heroes and other notable names from across the sea. Biographies, it seemed. The Sonlin appeared to have little love for the fictional.
Plucking one from the shelf, she flipped through, pages whispering as they fanned out in an arc. Not a speck of dust floated into the air, the shelf beneath where it had been the same shade of dark wood as its surroundings. The words upon the page were printed in a tiny font and she wrinkled her nose, squinting at the characters. “Was this Ko Lin a wise person?” she asked.
Janus held out a hand and then examined it. “She was a ve
ry successful tactician. Back in the Gahrpole Insurgency, she led a small band of men to victory against a much larger force with the odds stacked against them, before anyone really knew who she was. From there she went on to lead the initial taking of the Myrliks.”
“Must everything be about war?” she sighed, shoving the book back into the slot.
“Most things seem to be.”
The next door they came to proved to be fruitful, for it was locked. Only things that needed to be hidden were behind locked doors, Rook thought, peering through the keyhole. It was dark beyond but she could make out vague shapes with her enhanced eyesight. If her things were going to be stored anywhere, this seemed as likely a place as any.
Janus fell to his haunches, pulling a long black object from his coat and ramming it into the lock. With a few concentrated jiggles and then a click, the door cracked open. He glanced up at her, dark eyes imploring. Of what, she did not know. She only knew she felt her gut tighten as a result and, attributing it to anticipation, nodded to him as she pushed the door fully open, a wedge of light carving out the gloom beyond. The smell of chemicals hit the back of her throat and she sniffed, grimacing. As much as her body locked up at the thought of entering, the incessant curiosity within her pushed her on, until her shoes rang out on the stone floor.
This must have been the very centre of the building. Without any windows it was much darker, the temperature plunging so starkly a shiver ran through her. It seemed they were descending again, the corridor sloping downwards until they reached yet another door. Glancing at Janus, she tentatively pushed through until she found herself in a large room, beds along each wall bare. Upon closer inspection each bed contained leather straps that buckled down and a brace for the head. Her fingers reached out before she could think to stop them, running across the iron buckle.
A zing of energy hit her, overwhelmed by the blackened force of that terrible riftspawn she had sensed down in her cell. Gasping, she stumbled over, flashes of sensations vibrating across her skin. Fear. Pain. The lingering malicious signature of the riftspawn had corrupted the threads of energy in the room and The Rook hissed in protest, shrieking in her head. For a few heartbeats she was on that bed, writhing. Strapped down. Voices all around her. She couldn’t even turn her head to look at them. When she tried to find her connection to The Rook it was gone, a gaping hole where it had been. It felt like standing over the abyss, looking down. Like she might never come back if she fell.
A hand pressed to the back of her neck, squeezing softly. Grounding. She grabbed the metal railing – stinging cold against her flushed skin – and hauled herself to her feet on shaky legs. “This room. The things it has been used for.” She turned to look at Janus, saw him staring wide-eyed back at her. A sigh of relief escaped her when she felt the familiar tingle of The Rook in the back of her mind. They were still connected.
When she finally stabilised enough to stand without the aid of the railing, she wobbled over to where Janus was inspecting something, his back turned to her. She sensed it before she saw it, feeling the twitch of recognition within her come to life. The toxic energy within the room had numbed her to it but as she drew closer she felt the pull of her blades; extensions of her very self.
With a flourish, Janus twirled the blades so that she could pick them up by the handles. She snapped them out of his hands, not realising until she held them how much she had missed them, settling the frazzled bond between her and The Rook until the presence in her mind was less frantic. Beneath she could feel the discord of foreign energy – someone or something had been tampering with them. The thin, sharp sliver of each blade was coated with a strange clear liquid, thick like gelatin between her fingertips. She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell.
“I don’t like this place. I think we should leave.”
Out of the corner of her eye Janus stiffened. Jerking her head up, her stomach dropped as the door opened and a young man in a long white coat stepped through, halting as soon as his eyes landed on them. In a flash Janus’ hand snapped up and pointed his revolver at the man but it was already too late. He yelled out, a sharp piercing cry. Grabbing her arm, Janus yanked her back and took off running in the other direction. Already footsteps were sounding down the corridor.
“Where are you going?” she cried.
“There has to be another way out.”
Past the rows of beds they fled, descending further down with the natural slope of the room. At the other end of the space was a metal door, locked and bolted enough that it would be hard to get through. Still running at full speed, Rook drew forth The Rook, the connection coming easier now that she had her blades back. “Get behind me!” she yelled. She had no idea if she had the strength to get through it but she couldn’t let herself be caught now. Couldn’t let herself end up like the soldier in that miserable cell, wilted and wasted and hollow-eyed.
“Stop them!” came from behind them, followed by more shouts.
Burrowing down deep, Rook scooped up as much power as she dared take, feeling the euphoria of it rushing through her veins. With a cry that sounded more avian than human she rammed into the door, pain crashing into her as she bashed through steel, pushing more force into her shoulder. All around her, her aura flared, smoky grey and silver. Groaning metal caved before her, weak enough for her to dig her hands into the serrated edges and pull it apart with a scream of pain. Blood coated her hands but she had created a gap big enough to squeeze through.
A shot crackled in the air, bullet pinging past her head. Rook flung herself through into the hall beyond, falling against the far wall to catch herself. Bloody handprints smeared across the dusty surface, streaks of black in the gloom. Janus swore as he shoved his long limbs through after her, firing off a shot back through the gap.
“You all right?” he rasped, eyes falling to her hands.
“Fine.” She took off down the hall, pushing past the stinging pain in her hands, until they came to the end. It turned sharply right and then came to a staircase that descended into darkness.
With a glance behind her, she followed them down, hearing the sound of Janus’ footsteps behind her. “Janus,” she said through ragged breaths, “what have we got ourselves into? What is this place? Janus?”
She turned to look at him, enhanced senses picking out the tight press of his lips and the way his eyes skirted past her. “Janus?”
He shook his head. “No time.” Noises grew louder behind them, the clash of voices in pursuit. His fingers poked between her shoulder blades, urging her forwards. “Go. Run.”
With no idea where she was going, Rook pushed on, the sound of their pursuers spurring her on. She had seen the effects of that awful room; she knew that failure was not an option. But they were only moving deeper beneath the building with no end in sight. The copper bearded soldier had known a way out but she couldn’t remember the layout of the dense network of tunnels they had traversed in their attempt to escape. She didn’t know how they were going to get away, despair creeping in fast.
“This way,” grunted Janus, directing her the opposite way as the corridor split in two.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
He didn’t reply, glancing behind him as they ran. Something about him seemed more rattled than normal and it put her even more on edge to see him like that, head darting this way and that at every noise. The soldiers’ voices echoed down the long tunnel they had traversed, chasing them with every step they took. It seemed like the tunnel would never end, stretching on and on with every twist and turn they took. Her lungs ached with each short breath she stole, chest heaving.
And then she saw it. A faint light sparking up the heavy gloom, drawing her eye immediately when she veered sharply left. Hope. Her flagging pace picked up again, drawn to the light. There had to be a way out of here. There had to be some escape and she was nearly there. When she got close enough to see the stairs she nearly sobbed in relief, grabbing the railing so she could propel herself up
wards. Light spilled around the shape of another large door, this one made of a dark wood, and unlike the last it wasn’t bolted.
Rook grabbed the handle and rattled it, blood coating the metal. She gritted her teeth, slamming her hand against it, pain making her eyes water. Drawing more power from The Rook was not a good idea when she was this weak – she risked succumbing to its will – but she was left with no choice. Just as she plunged down into the well, feeling the power surge into her veins, Janus nudged her out of the way.
“Watch out.”
Two loud bangs cracked in the air. Her eyes widened as smoke curled up from the lock and then Janus kicked the door open. She stole another glance behind her before following him out into the hall, lights from the windows in the room blinding her. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she stumbled into the centre of the room trailing drops of blood. The building was a complete maze but they were nearly out. Her heart squeezed dangerously, searching frantically for the best way to get out.
Janus fiddled with his revolver, trying to reload as they ran. Sweat dampened his brow, black locks of hair matted to his forehead. Between the two of them Rook wasn’t sure who looked worse. Her hands were beginning to itch and it was hard now to fight off The Rook’s angry hissing in her ear, commanding her to give in, to just give in and take them all out. She could get out that way. If she killed them all she wouldn’t need to worry about escape. It was tempting. In this moment with just the two of them chasing the clock, she wanted to.
But she couldn’t. She promised she wouldn’t. “The window!” she cried. “Smash through the window!”
The next thing she heard was glass exploding outwards, the boom loud enough to shake the room around them. Shards of glass reflected the light as they rained down. They would cut her if she jumped through but it didn’t matter – escape was in view. She took her first step towards freedom when a soft vibration started from the floor, flowing through her feet and up her legs until she couldn’t feel them. Crying out, she stumbled, The Rook shrieking in her head.
The Reaping Season Page 24