The Living Sword (12 page)

“We need to be quiet now,” Eurik reminded his sword. “I don't want to cause any alarm, especially when we don't even know if we have the right tower yet.”

“And I'll be leaving that part out too,” Misthell muttered.

Chapter 8

Race to the Top

Leraine sat in her cage, which was suspended off of the floor by a thick chain, with her eyes closed. She listened for the sounds of dinner, of cups slamming on tables and knifes scraping plates. She was waiting for her moment, and that moment had just arrived.

When they'd put Leraine in this empty cell, naked save for her undergarments, they had neglected to put her in chains. No doubt because of the Bone Lord's orders. Her jailers hadn't even done a thorough job of searching her. What they had done, though, was cut off her
draen
. The hair would grow back, the various decorations could easily be replaced, but the small saw she'd had hidden in the braid would have been very useful right now.

'But that's not my only hiding place,' Leraine thought as she retrieved a small lock picking-set from underneath her breechcloth. 'Ransoming me like I'm some Irelian princess.' She eased the first pick into the lock. 'Thinking they can hold me like I'm the vain offspring of a Linesan noble.' Her fingers found the tumblers with practiced ease and moments later the lock clicked open.

Leraine took care to hide her tools before opening the cage's door and stepping out onto the cold stone floor. She barely noticed the rat scurrying into a corner; her senses were fixated on the other side of the cell's door.

She'd been patient. She'd let them settle into a routine and had gotten familiar with that routine before making her move. Leraine had entertained the notion of waiting for some diversion before making her own move, like Rock blundering to her rescue. But the chance of that happening was slim.

Leraine first went to the small, barred window of her cell. Jumping up, she grabbed the bars and pulled herself up. Using her teeth and a single hand, she tied a strip of cloth around one of the bars. Letting go, she landed in a crouch before making her way to the door.

She pressed herself against the rough wall next to the door, waiting for one of the guards to bring her food. Just like they had done the day before, and the day before that.

He was the youngest, the lowest member of their little group. Saddled with the work the others didn't want to do. Inexperienced, he would open the door and walk in. He'd stop when he saw her missing from her cage. His eye would catch sight of the strip of cloth and in his panic it would seem reasonable that she'd escaped through the narrow gaps in the bars. By the time he realized that wasn't the case, Leraine would already have made use of the distraction.

There was a good chance things wouldn't work out that way. Irelith had always cautioned her against relying on plans that were too clever. And if things did go wrong, well, Leraine would just have to cross that bridge when she got to it.

Finally, the door swung open and he trudged in. “I got something for ya,” an older voice slurred. Another set of footsteps followed him into her cell. Neither of them were the boy she'd counted on. Her plan was already going awry, but Leraine kept herself from thinking about that and swung the door shut behind them.

“I don't see her,” the second guard said. He was behind the first guard and didn't sound as drunk as him, he would go first. “Did she—” a yell of pain cut him off as Leraine kicked him in the back of the knee. He was still busy falling to his knees when she pilfered his club and knocked him over the head with the ashen rod.

The other guard had turned around by now, his eyes wide at seeing Leraine, he started to open his mouth. Perhaps to raise the alarm, or maybe to express his surprise at seeing her, but she didn't give him the chance. A hard jab to crush his gullet had the guard wrapping his hands around his throat, gasping for air.

Ignoring the dying man she returned her attention to the guard whose weapon she'd taken. He lay on the ground, vomit staining the stones underneath him, but he was conscious. Another strike with the club took care of that.

“Gibbens!” A voice roared from outside the cell. “I turn my back and you go doing what I told you not to do,” the jailer's commander complained. Leraine had already taken up her position besides the door. “It's going to be my hide when Lord Merin finds out you screwed the savage.”

This time, when the door opened, Leraine didn't wait for the man to enter the cell. Holding one end of the rod in each of her hands, she avoided the boiled leather armor protecting the commander's torso entirely in favor of driving the middle of the club into his face, stunning him. Then she looped the weapon over his head and pulled it down so that the commander's face met her rising knee. Leraine could hear something crunch when she did it again. Limply, the man fell to the floor.

'Not as planned, but if they keep coming at me one by one like this it is actually going to be easier,' Leraine thought as she looked down and spotted the short sword at the commander's side. She reached for it when the ground trembled. From up above, the sound of many feet running reached Leraine's ears. Closing her eyes, she sighed. 'Irelith warned you about exactly this, but you went ahead and did it anyway. Never sell a skin you don't yet have.'

Drawing the short sword with her right while holding the club in her left, Leraine got up again and stepped into the hallway. At the other end, the first of her jailers started to spill out of their room. 'You wanted a distraction.'

***

A pillar of earth catapulted Eurik over the wall and out of the complex that had turned out to be the wrong one. “She said it was the tall one closer to the lake, right?” he checked with Misthell even as he ran for what he thought was the right tower. Behind them, torches were lit and alarms were raised. Hopefully, they hadn't noticed he'd left already.

“The one with a blue banner showing a crouching hippogriff, that's what the cook said,” the living sword confirmed.

Looking up, Eurik could see a blue banner hanging from the tower he headed for, and it did have such a creature in gold thread which reflected what little light there was. “Broken Fang, here I come.”

On reaching the wall, Eurik didn't slow down but simply used the same trick he'd used to leave the last mansion. He sailed over the head of a guard who peered in the direction of the tower he'd just left, no doubt wondering what the commotion was all about.

Eurik did nothing to stop him from raising the alarm, it would be best if everybody was awake for this. Especially if people left the tower. Running towards it, he pointed and pulled. The wall bulged and masonry flew out of his path exposing the room to the outside.

Startled, two guards clad in mail rose from their table. One pulled a small iron mace while the other went for a spear and shield resting against the wall. Both, however, weren't wearing helmets and Eurik could connect with their armor. He hurled them through the room and out the hole he'd just made.

He didn't check to see if they got up. Instead, Eurik opted to go deeper into the building.

***

Leraine slid her bracers on and checked to see if the poisoned throwing spikes were still in their place. It, and her clothes, were the only pieces of her gear she'd found. She'd known that her boots and cuirass had been left behind in Campan, but she had hoped they'd taken her pouch with them. If they had, it wasn't here. Neither were her swords, but Leraine knew who had those; the Bone Knight that had captured her using that wand of his.

Barefoot, she walked out of the guard's room, careful not to step on the corpses. It was easy to trip on those, and hunting down a blooddrinker with a sprained ankle was a challenge Leraine could do without.

She'd traded in her club for a dagger, with a second one secured behind her back, and stalked up the spiral staircase holding it in her left while she'd switched her short sword to her right hand. It lacked the reach she was used to, it had more weight, but Leraine would manage. The dungeon's guards would attest to that, if they still could.

Leraine stopped when she heard people hastening down the stone steps. The stairs were fairly narrow, giving her little room to maneuver. The same was true for her opponents, but they wouldn't need it. Setting the dagger on one of the steps as silently as possible, Leraine drew a throwing spike from her right bracer and waited for them to come to her. Her toes strained to keep her balanced on the narrow end of the step, but she ignored it.

Finally, she caught a glimpse of a shield around the bend. Leraine slid into view, throwing the poisoned missile in the same motion. The guard stopped, almost falling down the stairs, when the spike punched through his calf, causing him to topple over after all.

Leraine danced out of the way, drawing another throwing spike as she did so, which she threw at the man that had been behind the guard now tumbling down the stairs. It sank into his neck, so Leraine waited and watched as her enemy sank into oblivion through a combination of blood loss and poison. Even took the time to retrieve the dagger she'd laid aside. Only when she was sure he had died, did she move past him and further up the stairs.

She encountered no one else, but from up above continued to come the occasional thundering crashes and rumbling tremors Leraine could feel through her toes and fingers. 'Could it be Rock?' It seemed hard to believe. They were strangers to each other, for one. Had only shared a few meals together. And even if Rock had tried, he didn't seem capable enough to pass through an entire hostile country without getting caught.

At last she reached the exit of the dungeon, but the door opened before she'd laid a hand on it. Her hand whipped around and sent her dagger flying. Instead of sinking into flesh, however, it bounced off the figure after puncturing what looked to be nothing sturdier than green cloth.

Leraine blinked, recognizing who was standing there. She'd only just considered the possibility, but hadn't really believed it possible. “What are you doing here?” she asked Rock.

***

“What are you doing here?” Broken Fang asked him as she walked up to him and bent over to retrieve the weapon she'd thrown at him. Eurik noticed she wasn't wearing any boots.

“Rescuing you, for one. Though it seems you didn't really need it.”

“Of course not,” she scoffed. Broken Fang slid past him and strode towards the stairs. Eurik, after giving the way she'd come from a glance, hurried to follow her. “But I do appreciate you tried,” she said without looking his way. “And now, we will teach these people why they should not mess with the Mochedan.”

“When you say 'these people', who exactly are you talking about?” he asked as they raced up the stairs.

“The blooddrinker and his master. Horse people slavishly follow their leaders, without them they will be thrown into confusion, giving us the time we need to escape. And once we have, there will be nobody stupid enough to try what they tried. They will have learned better.”

“Or swear bloody revenge,” Eurik countered. “You did, after all.”

Broken Fang stopped at his words. Her hands tightened around the handles of her weapons. “Do you have a better idea?”

“No, actually. But my
sesin
thought me patience—”

“Oh yeah, you've shown a lot of that lately,” Misthell muttered.

Ignoring him, Eurik went on, “He thought me to think and look for solutions, instead of satisfaction.”

“But you don't see a solution, and neither do I. So I will settle for satisfaction.” And with those words, Broken Fang began to stalk up the stairs again.

***

The next contingent of guards they encountered was easily dealt with. Leraine barely had to do anything but watch as Rock threw their enemies against the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, until they were incapacitated.

It wasn't as quick or ruthless as Leraine's methods would have been, but she refrained from pointing out that some of them would never wake up again. She was no more bloodthirsty than the next person; as long as their enemies didn't get up to cause them problems later, it was fine with her.

The rest of the way seemed clear, until they reached a set of ornate doors Leraine recognized. “That's the chamber they took me to. We might find Merin there, or at least a clue as to where he is.”

“But it's not guarded,” Rock pointed out. “And we haven't come across a single Knight Scapular on our way up. Could this be a trap?”

Leraine shook her head. “You have listened to too many storytellers. A Bone Lord like Merin might have a few hundred fighters he can call upon, but most of those won't even be in the city. Of the ones here, only the lower valued fighters would be on duty now, valued warriors like the knights are out carousing or sleeping.” The sounds of people wearing armor echoed up the stairs. “Until you woke them up.”

“They can go back to sleep,” Rock said. “Because they are not getting up here.” He went back to the stairs and bent his knees. With clawed fingers he stretched his arms out, before bringing them back like he was pulling a net in. Stones flew up from out of the stairwell and covered the opening. A shout, signaling someone had discovered what Rock was doing, was cut off midway by the last stone scraping into place.

“This only buys us some time,” he warned as he came back. “I can feel another staircase on the other side of the tower, but it is a lot smaller, and I think it is hidden.”

“Then we best finish this quickly,” Leraine replied with a grin.

“Hold on. If Rik is there, and you're serious about killing him, then you need something better than what you're carrying.” Rock drew his living sword and presented it to Leraine with its handle pointing towards her.

“You're offering me your sword?”

“I'm letting you borrow him.” He shrugged. “Not like I will be using it if it comes down to fighting in there.”

“Hold on for a moment, don't I get a say in this?” the blade objected.

“Misthell,” Rock sighed, “this is one fight we can't afford to have you sitting out.”