The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) (90 page)

BOOK: The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books)
9.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“So she has gone there as well?”

“That is my assumption.”

“My Lord Baron. Can you trust these people? I know we have agreements with them, but...”

“It is a finely balanced play,” the baron said, conceding the point. “But as far as our thief Lucius is concerned... yes, I actually think I do trust him. In terms of his guild, he is heavily indebted to us, to what extent I don’t think he really comprehends yet. However, on a higher level, I really do believe that his reputation
as
a thief matters more to him than the artefact he now chases.”

“And the Shadowmage?”

A dark look fluttered briefly across the baron’s face. “Now, she
is
a worry. I have no doubt that, between the two of them, she is the senior, magically speaking. And if she avoided me but went anyway, one has to question her motives. I would not like to be Lucius when they find the Starlight.”

“You think a thief may outwit a Shadowmage?” Tellmore asked, dubiously.

“No, but remember that Lucius is a Shadowmage too. He may surprise us. And, if not, I have one more insurance over her.”

“Which is?”

“You, my dear Tellmore! I presume you can track her through some arcane means?”

Tellmore thought for a moment. “It is not easy, but certainly possible. If she attempts to use the Guardian Starlight, though, I should be able to find her from the other side of the peninsula.”

“I thought as much. And use it she will, if she has gone to this much trouble already. When that happens, I’ll send you and a full company of men. I suspect there is little that will improve her disposition towards us better than a few swords and spears in her belly.”

Nodding, Tellmore found himself begrudgingly impressed with de Sousse. Though he could not help feel slighted at having been displaced by a thief of all people, the baron had made sure the success of the expedition was secure in many different ways, and that kind of foresight had to be appreciated. At the end of the day, recovery of the Guardian Starlight was all that mattered.

“In that case, my Baron, I formally apologise for having let you down on my side of the arrangement.”

“Oh, don’t be so pompous,” the baron said, waving the apology aside. “If it were not for you, we wouldn’t even know of this great magical power. What concerns me more is the presence of Vos forces. Did you get the sense they were there specifically for you, and for the artefact?”

“Impossible to say,” Tellmore said after a moment’s thought. “The attack came quickly and at night.”

“Possibly planned then.”

“Does that have bearing on this?”

“Not on this, no. I haven’t told you my news yet.”

“Which is, my Baron?”

“Many things have been put in motion while you have been away, Tellmore,” the baron said with a sparkle in his eye that Tellmore found a little disturbing. “Take a look outside.”

Tellmore frowned, but stood up and walked to the open window behind the baron. From the high vantage point, he could see across half the city but his attention was drawn to the courtyard of the Citadel, immediately below him.

Within the high walls and in the shadow of one of the Citadel’s towers, soldiers, sporting several different liveries, were lining up and making ready for departure. Honour guards for the armoured nobles who sat on powerful horses at the head of their men. While he was not the best authority on Pontaine heraldry, Tellmore recognised the crest of Count Fournier, and knew him to be someone de Sousse had been moving closer to of late. He also thought he could place one of the barons, though the man’s name escaped him for the moment.

“My Baron has been busy indeed,” Tellmore muttered. Then, louder, he said, “Would my Baron care to share his plans with me?”

“My dear Tellmore,” de Sousse said. “I can promise you, you are going to be impressed.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

S
TEPPING OVER THE
body of a Vos soldier, Lucius padded down the first flight of steps, their surface slick from the rain that had fallen, mixed with the mud remaining from their excavation.

The soldier had been one of two guards stationed at the head of the stairs, and Lucius had efficiently dispatched one with a thrust from his short sword into the small of the man’s back, while Adrianna had taken care of the other with a focussed thrust of air that had lethally slammed the guard’s body into the ground with a dreadful force. Lucius had looked around anxiously after she had cast her spell, as the sound of the guard hitting the earth seemed impossibly loud. However, the sound did not seem to travel more than a few yards. He wondered if that was an embellishment to the spell Adrianna had developed herself.

The stairs were wide and carved from grey stone. Their lack of grip might have caused anyone else to term them “treacherous” but the Shadowmages crept down as sure as mountain goats. Descending into blackness, the stairs led deep into the earth and, lacking torches, Adrianna cast a minor spell, one that caused a pale purple point of weak light to materialise in the palm of her hand. No one casually walking past the top of the stairs would notice its dim glimmer below, but it provided just enough illumination for Lucius to spot his path.

Though there were others in the thieves’ guild who had an uncanny knack for always knowing just how far they were beneath the surface when on a subterranean jaunt, Lucius had never developed the skill. Even so, he could count, and he estimated they were the equivalent of three storeys down when the stairs finally came to an end and flattened out into a corridor which extended into the dark, fully four yards wide.

Even in the pale twilight cast by Adrianna, Lucius could immediately see he was in a fantastical place. The paving stones were exquisitely cut, laid so close together that at no point could he have inserted a blade between them. As for the walls and ceiling of the corridor, he had no idea how that had been constructed. A human might have simply left the rock bare or covered it in plaster. Instead, it seemed each wall was sculpted from a single slab of that grey rock, as perfectly fashioned as each pave stone on the floor.

He could not begin to think of the craftsmanship – or magic – required to build such a place.

In the past, Lucius had heard tales of the Old Races, as had every child or thief willing to listen to a wild story. It was only now that he began to appreciate just what the elves had been capable of.

Which begged the question, of course: why did men rule the world now and not the elves?

The steps he took began to falter, not out of a lack of visibility, but a lack of confidence. His thievish instincts were fully alert, but he recognised that they might have no chance of spotting any potential danger. The walls were perfectly smooth, so that suggested no blade or dart traps would be sprung from them. But then again, if the architects of this place could build such walls, what were they capable of hiding within them?

As for the floor, that was even worse. There would be no chance to spot the outline of a swinging pit trap if it followed the perfect contours of the paving stones.

He felt as if he were groping around in the dark like some apprentice thief on his first burglary. The only comfort was that Adrianna was not passing sarcastic comments about his lack of pace, which meant she was either in complete awe of this place, or just as nervous as he was.

Proceeding down the corridor, perpetually crouched and testing each foot before he put his full weight on it, their progress was slow, but Lucius was not in any real rush.

The corridor seemed to go on forever, though Lucius estimated they had perhaps travelled no more than sixty or seventy yards. It came as some relief when, ahead, Lucius saw the corridor widening into a chamber. He gestured at Adrianna behind and she intensified her spell, the purple haze in the palm of her hand brightening to expand his view.

As darkness retreated, the chamber’s full expanse came into view. Lucius found himself at the top of another flight of stairs. The ceiling arched out of sight but he could pick out two alcoves in either of the walls, high enough to contain a man standing but currently empty.

Pacing slowly down the steps, eyes darting in all directions to spot traps and other defences, Lucius spied a handful of dark marks lying on the floor at the opposite end of the chamber and, beyond them, a large set of double doors carved from the same stone as the floors and walls.

Halfway down the stairs, he halted and looked back over his shoulder to Adrianna.

“What do you think?” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I think we are safe for now. If we are to believe the Pontaine soldiers we met, this place has had morons traipsing in and out of it for weeks, with no harm coming to them. I believe that the doors there will be our real problem.”

Forcing himself to relax a little, Lucius took a deep breath and continued down the stairs to cross the chamber. As he approached the great doors, he rubbed his eyes, thinking that Adrianna’s false light was beginning to play with his vision.

Pale azure lines of arcane light had begun to glow within the doors, forming a tight, geometric pattern that seemed to grow and build in brilliance as he moved closer. Alarmed, thinking an ancient trap was about to be unleashed, he jumped back, sword drawn in a defensive posture.

“You see that?” he said to Adrianna.

She sounded confused. “See what?”

“The door – is it preparing a spell against us?”

There was a pause. The lights in the door had dimmed slightly when Lucius jumped back, but they held a constant radiance now.

“I can feel magics in the background, but nothing active,” Adrianna said.

“Nothing active?” Despite expecting to be blasted apart any second, Lucius could not keep a note of incredulity from his voice. “You seen many glowing doors on your travels?”

“Glowing...? Lucius, tell me what you can see.”

It began to dawn on him that, whatever was happening on the door’s face, it was being concealed from Adrianna. He briefly told her of the strange patterns, sketching them out with his hand, though he did not move any closer.

They seemed to form a linked chain of regular hexagons and pentagons along the edges of both doors, with larger and more complex multi-pointed stars clustered in the centre, at about head height. The shapes caused his eyes to water and blur if he stared too long at them, but he noticed they had started to pulse, ever so faintly, suddenly getting a little brighter before fading, and then pulsing brighter again. He found it disturbingly like a heartbeat.

“Fascinating,” Adrianna said.

“You really can’t see that?”

It took her a while to answer, and Lucius heard her muttering, perhaps casting some spell of detection or one that sharpened her senses.

“I cannot,” she said finally. She did not sound in the least disappointed, which Lucius found a little suspicious.

“Well then,” he said. “That begs an obvious question. How can I see it and you can’t?”

“I always said you were special, Lucius.”

“I never knew what you meant when you said it.”

She shook her head, almost absentmindedly. “In truth, neither did I. But I believe we are close to something of an answer, would you not say?”

“Okay,” he said. “So, what do we do now?”

“I think it is obvious. You open the door.”

He glanced down at the dark patches on the floor, each one about the size of a man.

“You know that this is all that is left of the last guy who tried opening that thing.”

“True. But I don’t think the door glowed to him and him alone when he made the attempt.”

That checked Lucius.

“So...” he started. “So, you are saying the door is, what, inviting me?”

Again, Adrianna shrugged, a habit that, down here among elven ruins and with his life in the balance, Lucius was beginning to find irritating.

“Before I do anything, I want some answers,” he said flatly.

“And I am telling you, Lucius, that the only place you will find any of those answers is beyond those doors. Open them, and go through. Or do not, and go back home.”

Lucius put a hand to his temple, as if trying to avoid a headache as he thought fast. There was no lock on the door, no handle, no sign of hinging. No features of any kind that his thievish talent could latch on to. As for his magical side, it was completely mystified. If he were stalled as both thief and Shadowmage, what else did he have left?

Other books

Healer by Peter Dickinson
White Nights by Cleeves, Ann
Starcrossed by Brenda Hiatt
Banana Man (a Novella) by Blake, Christian
SuddenHeat by Denise A. Agnew
To the Death by Peter R. Hall
Maeve Binchy by Piers Dudgeon