The Crimson Campaign (64 page)

“You really believe it, don’t you?”

“What?” Tamas asked.

“That you are in the right.”

“Of course.”

“Could there have been a better way than killing all those people?”

“Likely,” Tamas said. “But I didn’t take it.”

Tell her
, something said inside of him.
Tell her about Sabon’s death. It has to happen sooner or later.
Better she find out from him than from someone else.

“I need your help,” Hailona said.

“I was about to say the same thing.”

Hailona frowned. “My husband – Demasolin’s brother – was taken by the Ad… the Kez. He’s being held in the city’s main prison. Tonight we tried to rescue him and free all the prisoners there. It was one of over twenty attacks all across the city we’ve been planning for over a week. We failed, and if our failure was any indication, so did the other attacks.”

“The prison – are they holding all of their prisoners there?” Tamas asked. “They captured one of my outriders on the edge of the plateau a few days ago. That’s why I came here with just Vlora. To try to rescue him.”

“I don’t know. Demasolin has eyes all around the city. You may ask him.”

But whether he’d answer a question from Tamas was another thing.

Tamas found Demasolin watching out the front door for any sign of the Kez. Tamas could hear the sound of soldiers in the street, beyond the manor walls. They were moving quietly, probably too low for Demasolin to hear.

The Deliv gave Tamas a glance filled with disdain.

Tamas ignored it.

“Four days ago,” Tamas said, “the Kez took one of my outriders as we crossed the plateau coming north. I came to the city to get him back. I understand your brother is a prisoner as well. I think we could help each other.”

Demasolin didn’t so much as look toward him. “I don’t think I want your help,” he said coldly.

Tamas bit back a retort, gritting his teeth. Shortsighted bastard. Typical nobleman.

“My son,” Tamas said quietly, “lies half-dead because he chose to save Adro instead of himself. He is in Adopest, and I don’t know whether he still lives. The man the Kez hold prisoner is my late wife’s brother. He may be the last kin I have left alive.”

Tamas went on. “You think me a beast. You might be right. But the Kez hold your brother, and they hold mine. I think if we work together we can get them both back.”

Demasolin didn’t reply. Tamas waited for a few heartbeats before turning away.

Nothing else he could say would sway the man.

“Wait,” Demasolin said suddenly. “Three days ago they brought in a prisoner by the south gate. A giant of a man, wearing a Mountainwatch Watchmaster’s vest.”

“That was him.”

“My contacts say he’s in the same prison. I’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” Tamas said.

“I’ll help you, but I will not hesitate to kill you if I need to.”

CHAPTER

40

Taniel drew his knife and threw himself forward.

He grasped the Prielight Guard by the chest and pushed both himself and the guard backward through the door. They tumbled down the stairs, a jumble of limbs and grunts and curses. Taniel was able to arrest his own fall by grabbing onto the walls of the spiral staircase.

The Prielight went down a few more steps and landed with his back against the wall, dagger drawn. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Guards!” the Prielight yelled.

The Prielight sprang upward, swinging his knife. Taniel dodged one blow and then another. Despite being at a disadvantage in the tower stairs, the Prielight was incredibly fast, forcing Taniel to dance away from quick jabs at his feet.

Taniel swung down for the Prielight’s head, only to have the guard move out of the way. The counterstrike sparked against the stone steps beside Taniel’s foot.

Taniel stomped on the Prielight’s wrist to trap his hand, and leaned over, stabbing quickly at the neck.

He felt the Prielight’s fist slam into his groin. Nausea swept through him as he fell with his back to the stairs. His stomach felt like it had flipped. The Prielight Guard scrambled up the stairs and raised his knife.

Taniel planted both feet on the Prielight’s chest and shoved.

The guard cried out in dismay as he tumbled back down the stairs.

Taniel turned to run back up to the tower when something caught his eye. There was a figure on the stairs, just down from where he and the Prielight were fighting. In the darkness it seemed no more than a shadow, and Taniel felt cold fingers creep up his spine.

The specter wore a mask with a single eyehole, and long white robes.

Kresimir.

Taniel flew up the stairs, propelled by fear. He slammed the tower door behind him and checked the far window. A straight drop into the Addown. No telling how deep the river was there. The fall could still kill him, and even if he survived it, he’d be swept down the river into Budwiel.

But better to take his chances than face certain death at Kresimir’s sorcery.

Taniel felt his pockets. The bloody sheet was gone. If he left without it, all this was for nothing.

There, in the middle of the floor. He must have dropped it when he attacked the Prielight. Taniel snatched up the strip of linen and stuffed it into his belt.

The tower door opened.

The Prielight charged him without hesitation. Taniel grappled with the guard, shoving them both toward the far window.

Over the Prielight’s shoulder he caught a glimpse of Kresimir.

“Stop,” the god said.

The voice was like the toll of a bell echoing in Taniel’s head.

The Prielight staggered away from Taniel, clutching at his ears. Taniel grabbed the Prielight by the shoulders and shoved him toward Kresimir, then sprinted for the window.

Just a few steps and he lunged, throwing himself as far from the keep walls as possible. The wind whistled by his ears as he fell, his heart in his throat, the dark water of the Addown rushing up to meet him.

Taniel plunged into the inky depths, the force of the impact pushing the breath from his body. His feet sank into the silt at the bottom of the river and he could feel himself torn by the current as his fingers desperately groped for the surface. His lungs burned. His jaw ached from trying to force himself to keep it closed.

A moment later and he breached the surface, gasping for air.

The keep was already behind him and pulling away quickly as he was swept along by the river. It didn’t take long to realize that he was being dragged toward the banks. He felt his leg slam into a rock and then he was again plunged beneath the water for a moment. He sputtered back to the surface.

People in the keep were shouting and pointing after him. He’d have to strike for the opposite bank of the river and float it all the way down to Budwiel. The current was fast enough to keep him ahead of any pursuing Prielight Guards, and he might be able to disappear in the ruins of the city until the next night. He set his eye on the other bank.

Taniel blinked. Something was wrong.

The river bank no longer slid by. The water was moving – Taniel could feel the current pull at him – but he wasn’t.

Taniel’s stomach lurched as he was suddenly viewing the bank from above it. How could that be? He was still in the water.

Confusion, then realization set in.

He – and a whole lake’s worth of water – had been scooped out of the river by sorcery. It was as if a giant had fetched a drink with a cupped hand and Taniel was in that hand. His stomach lurched as he was lifted higher and then began moving back toward the keep.

Taniel swam to the edge. There was nothing there but a long drop to the hard ground. He reached out probing fingers. They bumped against a wall of hardened air.

A few moments later and Taniel – along with thousands of gallons of water – was dropped unceremoniously in the courtyard of the keep.

Muddy water from the Addown cascaded across the limestone cobbles. Taniel got to his feet, ankle-deep in water, and looked around wildly.

“On your knees!”

Prielight Guards poured into the courtyard, shouting in Kez. There were dozens, and when Taniel reached out with his senses, he was dismayed to find they were carrying air rifles – no powder on any of them.

He reached for his knife, only to find it gone, lost in the river. One of his pistols was missing as well, and the other one soaked through. The powder would be useless. He drew it from his belt anyhow and flipped it over. On the walls above, Prielight Guards aimed their air rifles.

“Down!” The first guard to reach Taniel menaced him with a long pike. “On your knees, swine.”

He seemed surprised when Taniel darted forward, past the head of the pike, and cracked his pistol butt across the man’s face. Taniel discarded the pistol and plucked the pike from the Prielight’s fingers. He braced himself. This, he realized, was a fight he could not win.

An air rifle popped, and then another. Bullets ricocheted off the courtyard cobbles. Taniel sprinted toward the closest Prielight.
Keep moving
, he told himself.
Make a harder target. And get among the guards so that, at the very least, some might get hit by friendly fire in the confusion.

“Stop.”

Taniel staggered, almost dropping the pike. He suddenly felt woozy and out of breath. Again, the word tolled like a giant bell.

Prielight Guards threw down their weapons and shrank to their knees, clutching at their ears.

Taniel forced himself to keep going. Every step was like slogging through a bog.

“I said stop.” Kresimir appeared at one of the courtyard doors. The water of the Addown he’d dumped in the courtyard seemed to shrink beneath his feet and dry up, so that when he stepped it was on parched cobbles.

Taniel kept moving. His body wanted to stop, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to press on. To get away from the god.

“Why do you not obey my orders?” Kresimir’s voice was the deepest bass Taniel had ever heard. It rang within his ears. The god tilted his head to one side, as if curious. He pointed at the cobbles. “Kneel.”

“Go to the pit,” Taniel spat. His whole body shook from the effort of moving.

“Kneel!”

The keep quaked. One of the Prielight Guards screamed. Taniel could feel Kresimir’s confusion behind the mask.

“Take him,” Kresimir whispered.

Prielight Guards surged to their feet. It was a struggle for Taniel just to move as he tried to react to their advance.

Fighting was out of the question.

Taniel’s pike was taken from him. Someone slammed the butt of an air rifle into his back, dropping him to his knees.

“A spy, my lord,” the guard captain said. “Another assassin.”

“From who?”

Fingers curled into Taniel’s hair and his head was wrenched back so that he looked up at Kresimir. “Answer your god, cur,” the guard captain said.

Taniel cleared his throat and spit the contents at Kresimir’s feet.

The butt of a rifle smacked across his face.

“Amateurs,” Taniel said. General Ket’s provosts had hit him harder than that.

“Adran, my lord,” the guard captain said.

Kresimir took a small step back. “Who ordered you here?” He paused a moment, and then, “Why does he not answer? His god
compels
him.”

The next blow was a pike handle to Taniel’s chin that he feared had dislocated his jaw. Something hit him in the stomach. He was dragged up by the hair and hit again, then again. Amateurs these were not. Compared with these, the first blow had been gentle.

“Answer your god,” the guard captain said.

Taniel remained silent.

“Break his arm.”

One Prielight took ahold of Taniel’s wrist, bending it painfully back, and then brought a knee up against his elbow as one might break a branch for the fire. Taniel gritted his teeth, trying not to scream. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Break it,” the guard captain said again.

“I can’t. It’s like trying to break a cannon barrel.” The Prielight rubbed at his knee.

“Get a hammer.”

“Fools.” Kresimir’s voice made the Prielights cower. He stepped up and looked down on Taniel.

Taniel felt the warmth of sorcery like the slow approach of a flame.

“Beg,” Kresimir said.

Taniel shook his head.

“Beg!” Kresimir’s jaw twisted with sudden strain, and Taniel felt the heat come on quickly. He drew back involuntarily, ready for the worst kind of pain.

Kresimir suddenly threw himself backward, a wail escaping his lips. It grew louder and louder, and might have shattered the stones of the keep had it been longer. As it was, Taniel thought that for a moment it would drive him mad. The god fell to the ground, swatting at invisible flames, whimpering.

Taniel felt the chuckle rise within him. It burst forth from his mouth like a funny thought at an inopportune moment.

Ka-poel’s wards. It had to be.

Kresimir couldn’t break them.

Kresimir cowered on the cobbles. His mask had fallen off. He stared at Taniel through one eye of fear. The other eye was pus-filled, oozing black liquid over a swollen, purple cheek. “What did you do to me?” Kresimir asked.