The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) (51 page)

The dogs bayed as they ran along, occasionally stopping to make sure their masters had not fallen too far behind. Lucius extended his magical concealment, allowing the noisome stench of the sewer to wrap itself around him too, making him invisible to the hounds’ heightened sense of smell.

Leaning around the corner of the junction, Lucius took note of the positions of his enemies. The dogs were just a few yards away, the soldiers not far behind. He saw another man move up behind the soldiers. He was tall, and walked with a stoop to avoid scraping his head on the ceiling. He was wearing leather rather than chain and was unarmed. More than that, the stink of the sewer clearly did not affect him at all, as he wore no helmet.

“He’s close,” the man said, and then closed his eyes. Immediately, Lucius felt a sudden pressure in his head and, searching for the threads of magic, saw them buckle and twist under the strain of a new magical presence.

Lucius knew how the soldiers had found them so quickly. This man had to be one of their highly vaunted wizards.

Maintaining his shadow cloak, Lucius reached forward and mentally grasped a ball of air, no more than a handful, beside the head of each dog. With a quick, savage twist, he shunted the air out of place, creating an instant vacuum.

Two simultaneous bangs echoed around the sewer. The soldiers were startled, but the effect on the dogs was more profound. They bolted, whimpering as they fled back up the sewer and nearly knocking one soldier off his feet.

“He’s here,” the wizard said.

The soldiers readied their weapons, and Lucius could see how they intended to fight. One soldier would keep him busy with a sword, while another fought past him with a spear, jabbing over the shoulder of his ally.

“Pull back,” the wizard instructed. “This is my work.”

The wizard stepped coolly past the soldiers.

Lucius dropped the shadows around him, and stepped out to meet him.

“Turn back now, and trouble us no more,” Lucius said.

This elicited a chuckle from the wizard.

Lucius felt the strands of magic twist out of synch as the wizard began muttering, his fingers moving in a complex rhythm.

Magic surging from his pointed finger, Lucius hurled a bolt of withering energy, intending to shatter the wizard’s concentration and ravage his body with the touch of death.

The wizard continued his incantation but raised one hand, the other still drawing patterns in the air. Lucius’ bolt stuttered and dissipated. An instant later, the wizard unleashed his own spell, and Lucius felt his limbs go rigid as an invisible force clasped itself around his body.

Despite himself, Lucius began to feel an appreciation of the wizard’s talent. Though it was clumsy and inefficient compared to the grace of the Shadowmage’s path, the man had learned enough discipline to block Lucius’ magic while continuing to manipulate his own.

He saw the wizard grin in triumph as his spell’s hold tightened around him. However, the magic was relatively simple to pick apart.

Not wanting to reveal what he was doing, Lucius picked at two threads of magic, trapping and holding them firm under the presence of the existing spell. Then, feeling the wizard was coming to the end of his ritual, he triggered his own spell.

The magics expanded quickly, blasting the binding spell apart. Lucius swiftly channelled the magic forward, repulsing the force of the spell the wizard was preparing back at him.

The wizard held out a hand to dismiss the attack, but he had not counted on its raw strength. He was thrown backwards against the wall, and buried in an avalanche of bricks and dirt as the roof of the tunnel came down on top of him. Everything suddenly went black.

Gasping for air and gagging against the stink of the sewer, Lucius called a small ball of flame to his palm. He saw that the tunnel had completely caved in ahead of him, the passageway blocked by a wall of brick and earth. Lucius whistled quietly. He had not intended to cause major damage to the sewer itself, but the amount of energy needed to break the wizard’s binding spell had been greater than he had first thought. When released, all that power had had to go somewhere.

Resolving to take a little more care in shaping his spells when in confined areas, Lucius started down the sewer again, the ball of fire in his hand lighting the way to the docks.

CHAPTER EIGHT

S
TRETCHING UNCOMFORTABLY IN
the chill morning air, Lucius drew his cloak closer around him. Sounds of people talking animatedly started to penetrate his sleep addled mind, then he snapped open his eyes, suddenly remembering where he was.

Another heap of cloth started to stir within a doorway opposite, and the stink of last night’s alcohol washed over him as a vagrant growled irritation and rolled over. Lucius sat up and scratched at his hair, conscious that he still reeked of the sewers himself.

At the far end of the alley, he saw people moving in the main street, and gradually became aware of a low, deep chiming. It took him a further moment to realise he was hearing the newly installed bells at the Cathedral, now used to summon the people of the city to the Square of True Believers. Standing up and shaking the last dregs of sleep from his system, he wandered out to see what was happening.

After leaving the sewers the evening before, Lucius had not found Hengit and the other thieves at the docks, nor had they been present at the pre-arranged meeting point behind the silversmiths near the cliffs. He was not overly worried, as he knew Hengit was an extremely capable thief. Perhaps another Vos patrol had been close on their heels as they left the sewers, or maybe they had run into soldiers above ground and Hengit had decided to lay low for a while. He was sure he would get a chance to rendezvous with Hengit soon.

Rumours were running rampant, it was clear from the excited chattering of the crowd, as friends and strangers alike tried to guess what was going on at the Cathedral. Some were saying that it was to be an open trial of a group of rich wizards, while others opined that a city-wide carnival was in the process of being set up. One old woman told anyone who would listen that the stipend granted to beggars was being extended to all common people, though at a lower rate of course, to demonstrate the generosity of the Empire. Lucius grabbed a young man by the arm to ask him for clearer details, but all he received was a shrug.

He arrived at the square just as the bells stopped tolling, and saw the area was packed with people, the crowd heaving as individuals jostled for the best position. The guard were present in force, their red uniforms and spears or halberds acting as islands in the press of people. However, Lucius doubted any pickpockets or malcontents would dare to make their presence felt today, not after recent events.

The dais at the front of the Cathedral had been reconstructed, but it was much longer now, spanning the whole width of the stairs leading up to the main entrance, with the pulpit offset to one side. As the Swords of Dawn filed down the stairs in two columns, the crowd fell silent, and Lucius waited with them, straining his eyes to pick out the Preacher Divine from the darkness of the Cathedral’s interior. He did not have long to wait.

A
LHMANIC STRAIGHTENED HIS
cloak and pulled his tunic taut before accepting his staff from the acolyte standing dutifully next to him. He waved the man on, indicating he was ready.

“Preacher Divine,” the man muttered in acknowledgement before he turned and walked out of the Cathedral, taking the steps with care and solemnity as he approached the dais.

The crowd filled the square outside and he suppressed a satisfied smile, lest one of the nearby clergy see it and think it pride. The people were completely silent, expecting his arrival, and he kept them lingering for a few seconds longer. Alhmanic glanced at the seven sullen looking men, bound and held under the spears of Imperial soldiers just inside the Cathedral’s doorway. Today, he would give the crowd something they had never seen before.

Planting his staff firmly on the flagstone floor of the Cathedral, its hammer blow echoing throughout the massive nave, Alhmanic strode forward into the daylight. A few in the crowd dared to cheer his appearance, but they were quickly silenced by a single thump of the guards’ halberds on the dais. Straight-backed and majestic, his cloak flowing behind him, Alhmanic descended the stairs of the Cathedral slowly, as much to give the crowd a chance to see him before his words took sway as to continue building the tension of the moment.

Climbing the pulpit, he gazed across the crowd, conveying his absolute authority over the people of Turnitia.

“Beloved friends,” he started, raising his hands as a blessing to all. “The past few days have been hard on all of us. Many brave soldiers have been wounded or have died in service to Turnitia. The people of this great city have had their own burdens to bear, which you have undertaken with the same fortitude. We are united in both our pain and determination to make this a better place to live, where freedom and prosperity are not the preserve of a few, but the right of all!”

This time, the guard made no move to stop the crowd from expressing their gratitude. Though many of them were now facing higher taxes, they had also seen their silver being put to work in cleaning up the streets.

“There are many rumours circulating in the city at the moment. As you all well know, loose talk has little value and is rarely the whole truth, or even part of it. However, it is my most humble joy to tell you now that one rumour
is
true. Late in the evening yesterday, noble Vos agents located and wiped out the headquarters of the perfidious thieves’ guild. That is right, my friends, the Vos Empire has once again made good on its promises and destroyed crime on all levels in this city.”

The ovation Alhmanic received on this pronouncement lasted more than a minute and he let the wave of sound wash over him. When it finally began to subside, he raised a hand to let the crowd know more was to come.

“Of course, you know as well as I that there are those who will always prey on decent, hardworking people, so criminal activity will always be present. However, without an organised guild behind them, these villains will be rudderless, directionless – and easy prey for our town guard!

“This also leaves us free to continue our good work. I promised you the destruction of the thieves’ guild, and it has come to pass. I now tell you that we are commencing the next stage in cleaning this city for decent folk. Those terrible practitioners of darkness, the evil merchants of foul sorcery, the Shadowmages, will be next. This I promise to all of you. And to demonstrate our intent, I have another gift for you.”

So saying, Alhmanic gestured towards the Cathedral. A line of men, each led by a Vos soldier, were marched down the steps. They looked haggard, and everyone could see that their hands and ankles were bound, allowing just enough movement for them to hobble down the steps. On the dais, other soldiers carried seven heavy wooden blocks, setting them down in a line. There was an audible gasp as a few in the crowd began to understand what was about to happen.

The men, their courage clearly broken, were led onto the dais one by one. None looked out at the crowd. The youngest was weeping, shaking his head as if to clear it of a bad dream.

“These are seven of the worst sinners we found among the thieves,” Alhmanic said, turning back to the crowd. “Each one of them is responsible for many murders, rapes, and unspeakable acts. To seal our pledge to you, the decent people of the city, we will carry out their sentence before you, so you can see justice being done.”

There were more gasps from the crowd as others began to catch on to what the Preacher Divine intended. Turnitia had never before seen public executions and, indeed, had prided itself in the past on the idea that they were not needed. Some people were clearly revolted by the idea and yet, as Alhmanic had guessed, they could not seem to bring themselves to turn away.

Alhmanic gave a nod to one of the Swords, who then turned to his men and barked an order. As soldiers forced the thieves to their knees, the executioners stepped up to the dais as one. They hoisted their halberds, the silvered axe blades glinting.

With seemingly no signal from Alhmanic, the halberds descended as one.

“W
HAT IN THE
hell...?”