The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) (66 page)

Gradually, the corridors of the complex began to appear cleaner and were certainly better lit. They were leaving the cells behind. Elaine still led the way, and Lucius noticed she had become more focussed, as if she were hunting and knew her prey was close.

His suspicions were confirmed when she drew up short at a junction, and peered around the corner quickly. She turned back to glance at Heinrich, smiling.

“He’s here,” she said quietly. “Three guards with him.”

“Officer of the Dungeon?” Lucius asked.

Heinrich gave him a look of annoyance. “Of course,” he eventually said.

Lucius nodded. When he had heard that Elaine was intending to go down into the depths of the keep rather than the floors above, he had guessed her intended target. The Officer of the Dungeon, a title currently held by a man known as Jonas Traugott, or simply the Thug to those who had been incarcerated by him, would always be a man much hated by thieves. Jonas had come into the city at about the same time as the Preacher Divine, but had already gained a reputation for brutality and cruelty, treating anyone born in Turnitia as though they were less than human. It was widely believed that his methods of extracting information had been the principal means by which the Empire had found the thieves’ guildhouse.

His death might not shake the Vos government of the city to its foundations, but it would be a gesture greatly appreciated by every thief still free, and might shape the attitude of his successor.

“He’s mine,” Elaine said emphatically, and Heinrich made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the officer was all hers.

Heinrich and Lucius moved up so they were just behind Elaine, as she reached into a pouch and produced a handful of small pellets. They averted their eyes as she threw the pellets down the corridor.

Lucius was aware of a bright flash around the periphery of his vision, like a sheet of lightning, but there was no sound other than startled cries from ahead. Led by Elaine, Lucius and Heinrich charged around the corner, sprinting to the chamber that lay just ahead.

The chamber was small, but well-appointed. Rich rugs covered the floor, and the scattered tables were strewn with clothes, bottles, books, and food. There was a finely crafted lute propped up against one wall; above it, a framed picture of some distant landscape. The chamber was a little palace within the heart of the keep, all of it paid for with the goods and belongings confiscated from those locked up in the cells behind him.

Four men were present in the room, chairs fallen among them. They staggered about the chamber, hands clasped to their eyes, blinded by the explosion of light.

Leading the charge, Elaine and Heinrich hit the men without mercy. Elaine dodged a clumsy blow as a soldier lashed out with his fist, his eyesight beginning to return. She buried one sword in his thigh, and passed him as he fell to the floor howling in pain. She had eyes only for the Officer of the Dungeon, easily recognised by the gaudy gold trim he had added to his plain red Vos livery, and the cluster of rings worn on the fingers of both hands.

Heinrich’s short sword finished off the man Elaine had downed, and he moved on to the next soldier, who had recovered his wits enough to scramble for his spear. Heinrich stamped on the weapon, and the soldier jumped backwards to avoid a vicious thrust.

Moving further into the chamber, Lucius ducked a chair thrown by the third soldier and leapt onto the central table, scattering bottles and plates. The soldier was panicked by the sudden assault, but recovered well, reaching for the first thing to come to hand. Advancing on Lucius, he swung the lute, grunting with the weight of the unwieldy instrument.

Jumping down from the table, Lucius blocked the lute with his sword, but it smashed though his defence and slammed into his shoulder, sending him reeling. He ducked another swing, but was forced to step back, knocking into the table. As the soldier swung the lute for the third time, Lucius raised a hand to ward off the blow, but the instrument had too much force behind it.

The tortured strings cried out and were silenced as the neck of the lute shattered against Lucius’ skull in a shower of splinters. Staggered by the blow, Lucius reeled, flailing with his sword to keep the soldier back.

The soldier dropped the tattered remains of the lute, grabbed Lucius and threw him against the nearest wall. The impact jarred Lucius’ sword from his grip, but he retained hold of the dagger in his left hand. Shaking his head to clear the fog, Lucius saw the soldier advance, fists raised. Lucius held out a hand as if begging for a moment to recover, and the soldier gave him a cruel grin.

As the soldier took another step forward, Lucius pushed off from the wall and sprang for the soldier. He took a punch to the side of the face, but grabbed the man’s tabard and plunged the dagger into his neck.

Blood spurted across the chamber and, for a second, they stood face to face, the man looking blankly at him as if not comprehending that he had just been killed. Then, the soldier’s eyes glazed and Lucius released his grip, allowing the man to fall to the floor.

He saw Heinrich had already dispatched the soldier he had faced, and had now turned to watch Elaine.

“Stop playing with him, Elaine,” the assassin said with a note of reproach.

The Officer of the Dungeon was scared, Lucius could see, and he flailed desperately with a short sword, trying to keep his attacker away. Elaine had scored several hits on him, and blood flowed freely down his arms, legs and chest. Another wound was gouged into his cheek, and Lucius had no doubt Elaine was trying to make a point, prolonging the man’s agony in return for all the cruelty he had handed out to his prisoners.

Stepping back, Elaine paused to give Heinrich a look of mock disappointment, turned back to the officer and smiled, before lunging. She buried both her blades into his stomach and released them so they stood proud.

Looking down in horror, the officer dropped his own weapon and grabbed the hilts of her blades as if to pull them out. Gasping for breath, he fell to his knees, looking up at Elaine in a mute plea for help. Still smiling, she grasped the swords, twisting them slightly as he moaned in pain. Then, with a great heave, she ripped them free before planting a boot on his chest and kicking him to the ground.

He lay there, squirming slightly while blood flooded out to stain the deep-green-patterned rug he had fallen onto. Elaine stooped to pick up a corner of the rug and cleaned her blades one at a time.

“You just going to leave him like that?” Heinrich asked.

Elaine shrugged. “No more than he deserves. No less either. The pain will give him something to think about while he dies.”

“It’s bad tradecraft,” Heinrich said, shaking his head slightly.

Sighing, Elaine looked down at the pitiful figure of the officer, who was coughing up blood, crimson trails running down his face. She looked back at Heinrich and nodded, stalked over to the man and ended his life with a blade between the ribs.

“So, job done,” Lucius said, looking at the carnage around them. “We release the prisoners now?”

Elaine was looking about herself as well.

“No,” she said slowly. “We carry on.”

“Carry on?”

“No one has been this deep into the Citadel before. I want to see what else they have here.” She saw Lucius frown, as if about to debate her instructions. “We have only presumed the higher ranking officials and officers are on the higher levels of the keep. While we have this chance, we should push on.”

Lucius thought he saw a look of concern on Heinrich’s face, but it was gone quickly, replaced by a quick nod.

“We push on, then,” Heinrich said, “as the guildmistress commands.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

D
EEP BENEATH THE
Citadel, beyond the dungeons, they found a vast warehouse.

Lucius whistled softly to himself. The ceiling was not high but, after the low stone arches they had become used to, the double-height chamber seemed to soar above them. Square-carved pillars supported it at regular intervals and, while there were plenty of larger warehouses in Turnitia, Vos had not been idle in using it.

Stretched out over perhaps three acres, mountains of sacks and piles of crates were collected neatly, all ordered by contents, age and usefulness. A cursory investigation of the closest sacks revealed several tons of grain. Clay pots held lantern oil.

“There’s enough food and supplies here to last years,” Lucius said in some wonder.

“I bet they have a well sunk somewhere inside the Citadel, probably within the keep itself,” Elaine said. “They could withstand a siege indefinitely.”

“You think they are expecting trouble, perhaps from Pontaine?” Lucius asked.

Heinrich shook his head. “I would expect every major Vos stronghold to have something like this. My people like to be prepared for any eventuality. Given current relations with Pontaine, and the people of this city for that matter, it is a wise precaution.”

Lucius looked about him, at all the crates, bottles, sacks and pots, thinking.

“We should destroy it,” he said after a moment.

“No,” Elaine said flatly.

“It’s a legitimate target, if we are waging war!”

“I don’t disagree,” she said. “But how would you go about it, exactly? Burn it all?”

He was about to agree, then saw the immediate flaw. Billowing smoke underground, especially while they might be stalled by Vos reinforcements on the way out, would be a potentially lethal hindrance, not a victory. Then there were the still trapped prisoners to consider. Another thought occurred to him.

Reaching a hand out to a sack of grain, he closed his eyes briefly, summoning the threads of magic. He felt them begin to work, sucking in moisture from the surrounding air, and concentrating it on the contents of the sack.

As Elaine and Heinrich watched, the sack became sodden before their eyes, the material stained dark as trickles of water began to run down its side.

Lucius looked back at them expectantly, but was greeted by Elaine’s sour look.

“That is very good, Lucius,” she said with some measure of sarcasm. “Tell me, how long would it take you to do that to all the grain here?”

He looked ruefully at the pile of sacks before him, conscious that it was just one of dozens stacked around him. She had a point.

“We could bury it,” he said, eyeing up one of the square columns. Heinrich grabbed his arm.

“Not while we are still down here,” he said forcefully. “You can work whatever magic you see fit, after we have left.”

Lucius was surprised by his venom.

“Of course,” he said, pulling his arm away.

Elaine had wandered off from the two of them, and her voice floated back from behind a row of crates.

“Come and have a look at this.”

Glaring at each other, Lucius and Heinrich joined her, and immediately caught sight of what had attracted her attention.

A small oaken door was set into the wall, which Elaine had opened. Inside was another spiral staircase, descending further, and Lucius guessed it must lead to another level. However, he noted that while the rest of the corridors and chambers had shown signs of age, the staircase was new – or else supremely well-preserved. More than that, its walls were completely smooth.

“Either of you heard about a level beneath the dungeons?” Elaine asked, and frowned when she saw them both shaking their heads.

Lucius took a pace forward, and cocked his head as he peered down the stairs into the dark. Something tickled the back of his mind, and he held the mental image of the threads of magic in his mind’s eye for a moment, watching them jitter ever so slightly, as if they were troubled by the presence of something that drew upon their energies.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered.

“What’s to like?” Elaine said impatiently. “We’ve come this far, and if Vos has installed a new level in the Citadel, we need to know about it.”

Elaine started for the staircase, but Lucius put a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, but he held up a hand to stall her.

“I’ll go first,” he said, then saw her start to protest. “There’s magic here, Elaine, I can feel it. I need to go first.”

Still, she did not look happy, but after a moment’s hesitation, she waved him on.