The Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame - Book 1 (33 page)

“Looks like no one’s about,” Yvka whispered, careful not to make any more noise than necessary.

“This cove is so well hidden that they don’t need to guard the dock,” Diran said. What he didn’t say, but which Ghaji knew he was thinking, was that there was a good chance the denizens of Grimwall were all inside preparing for tonight’s sacrifice.

Tresslar stood staring at the cliff face. In the dark, the artificer could make out few details, Ghaji guessed, but then the older man was probably remembering more than he was seeing.

“Tresslar,” Diran said, but the artificer didn’t reply at first, and Diran took hold of the man’s shoulder and shook him gently.

“Hmm?” The artificer turned to Diran with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it’s just … been a long time. I never thought I’d be standing here again.” Tresslar’s tone was both wistful and
frightened as memories of the past and fears about the present collided.

The five companions walked down the dock toward the entrance to Grimwall. As they passed the elemental galleons, Ghaji wished there was time to do a proper reconnaissance. Any number of raiders could be onboard any or all of the ships, ready to rush down the gangplanks and attack the intruders. If they were to have any chance of stopping Erdis Cai from sacrificing innocents, perhaps including Makala, they had to move swiftly and trust to luck. Diran, however, would say that they should trust in the power of the Silver Flame. That was all well and good, Ghaji supposed, but the half-orc warrior preferred to place his faith in a well-honed axe-blade.

They were three quarters of the way to the entrance when something splashed in the water off to their left.

“What is it?” Hinto said in a shaking voice. “Do you think it’s …
them?”

“We’re leagues away from the Mire,” Diran said. “There’s nothing to fear from it.”

“What if it’s followed us?” Hinto said.

They stopped and listened, but the sound didn’t come again. They started walking once more, but there was a second splashing sound, this time followed by the soft scratching of something climbing up onto the dock behind them. They spun around to behold a squat dark shape the size of a large dog crouching on the dock. Whatever it was, Ghaji decided it was best to kill first and ask questions later, if at all. He stepped forward, willing his axe to activate. The dragonshard embedded in the weapon’s pommel glowed and the metal was wreathed in flame, though the haft remained cool to the touch.

The light revealed a mottled green-gray crab large as a mastiff. The sudden burst of illumination caused the creature to retreat several paces, its segmented legs making soft clack-clack-clack sounds as it scuttled back, large front claws waving back and forth in a defensive posture.

Ghaji was about to step forward and split the crab’s shell in two when Hinto stepped past him, long knife in hand. The halfling waved his long knife in the air as he advanced on the beast, and the crab leaned left, right, then back again as it tracked the movement of Hinto’s weapon. When the halfling was close enough, the crab lunged forward, ready to snap up the tasty morsel in its front claws. Hinto dodged to the side and smacked the flat of his blade hard against the one of the crab’s eyestalks. The creature let out a hissing noise, scuttled to the edge of the dock, and flung itself into the water with a loud splash.

As Hinto rejoined the rest of them, he said, “It’s just a dire crab, and a young one at that. They hate it when you hit their eyestalks. They’re timid enough, until they smell blood. Then they can be downright nasty.” Hinto chuckled. “Here I thought it was a monster.”

Diran and Ghaji exchanged looks. It seems there was no predicting what would set off the halfling’s panic.

“Right … the crabs,” Tresslar said. “I’d forgotten about them.”

Ghaji turned to the artificer. “Is there anything else you forgot? Sea dragons? Cannibalistic merfolk?” He concentrated and the flames flickering on the surface of this axe died out. “At least we know there’s no one watching us. The light from my fire axe would’ve alerted them.”

“Not to mention making us perfect targets for any archers,” Diran said.

“I’m just glad you didn’t set fire to the dock with that thing,” Yvka said.

Tresslar, recovered from Ghaji’s rebuke, sniffed. “Whoever attached the dragonshard to that weapon did a decent enough job, but if you want to see some
serious
flames …”

“I’ll let you know,” Ghaji said.

The five companions continued walking and reached the semicircular entrance to Grimwall without further trouble. The stone door was down, and there didn’t appear to be any method of opening it.

Tresslar stepped forward. “It’s been a while, but since I’m the one who constructed the locking mechanism on the door …” He leaned his face toward the stone surface of the door and pressed his lips against it. There came the sound of rock grating against rock, and the artificer quickly stepped back as the door began to rise. When the door had receded all the way and the entrance stood open, the others turned to look at Tresslar.

“It opens with a
kiss?”
Ghaji said.

“From one of the original crew of the
Seastar
, yes.” Tresslar shrugged, his face coloring in embarrassment. “I used to have something of a whimsical nature when I was young.”

The five companions paused at the threshold of Grimwall, as if something should be said. Good luck, perhaps, or as dangerous as their separate missions were, perhaps a tentative goodbye, but in the end they simply nodded to each other and went their separate ways.

T
resslar touched his wand to the containment ring’s column, and the metal—painted black, of course—began to glow bluish-green. He could feel the vibrations as his device began absorbing the spells that other artificers had woven into the internal structure of both the column and the ring affixed on top of it. He didn’t expect the process to take long. He’d already taken care of the elemental on the other ship without any difficulty. The spells the artificers had used, while serviceable, were crude and simplistic and presented no challenge to him. As the ships had been left unguarded, he’d faced no resistance.

Tresslar sighed. Forty years he’d been on Dreadhold, and if the spellwork he’d seen so far was any indication, artificers had become sloppy since he’d chosen to absent himself from the world. Perhaps the erosion of magical standards was an inevitable result of the Last War, when too many artificers had been forced to do rushwork out of necessity, but the war was over now,
and there were no longer any excuses for such shoddy craftsmanship as far as Tresslar was concerned.

After a few moments, the greenish-blue glow where the golden dragonhead touched the column subsided, and it was done—no flash of light, no crackle of discharged energy. Tresslar preferred to avoid showiness in his work whenever possible. Restrained elegance was the hallmark of a true master of spellcraft, though in truth he couldn’t take full credit for his wand’s performance. He’d discovered the golden dragon’s head during a voyage to Trebaz Sinara with Erdis Cai. The uninhabited island held many wonders and even more mysteries, and the origin of the dragon’s head as well as its intended purpose was one of the latter. Tresslar had understood the dragonhead’s power well enough to use it to create his spell-absorbing wand, but he didn’t fully fathom the artifact’s nature—not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.

His task was complete. Two of the Black Fleet’s three galleons no longer possessed air elementals to fill their sails. With nothing else to do, he supposed he should disembark this vessel and board the ship he’d spared and wait for the others to finish their work.

Yet …

Tresslar turned and looked toward the open entrance to Grimwall. It had been four decades since he’d set foot inside, over half his lifetime. He knew it wasn’t the same place that he remembered from his youth and that terrible things walked its corridors now. Still, he felt a powerful urge to walk down the ship’s gangplank and head across the dock to the entrance and go inside. More than simple nostalgia, it was almost a compulsion, but he really didn’t want to simply revisit Grimwall, did he?
What he really wanted—what he
needed
—was to see Erdis again. Perhaps Tresslar wanted to see if any trace of the great explorer he’d once revered remained inside the undead creature that now ruled Grimwall. Perhaps, as Diran suggested, Tresslar had been afraid for too long, and it was time that he faced that fear, looked it straight in the eyes, for better or worse.

Tresslar continued standing and gazing at Grimwall’s entrance for several more moments before finally reaching a decision. Gripping his dragonwand tight, he headed for the gangplank.

Yvka and Hinto moved down the corridor with silent ease. Both of them possessed excellent night vision as well as nonhuman dexterity and grace, though Yvka might have made somewhat better time if she hadn’t needed to shorten the length of her stride so the halfling could keep up. The greenfire torches which lit the corridor provided enough illumination to make it seem bright as day to elven and halfling eyes, and from what they could see, Grimwall—at least this section of it—was deserted. Whatever the grisly nature of the rite Erdis Cai was preparing to conduct this night, it appeared his people were in attendance as well. All to the better; it would make Hinto’s and her task much easier.

The corridor they traveled curved slowly to the left, and Yvka saw that she’d allowed herself to become overconfident. Two male guards dressed in the familiar garb of the Black Raiders stood in front of a larger wrought-iron gate with burning braziers of greenfire mounted on either side. Despite the
guards’ bald heads and false vampire teeth, Yvka knew they were human, or at least she hoped so, and that meant there was a chance they hadn’t spotted Hinto or her in the corridor’s gloom. She stopped and crouched down, putting one hand on Hinto’s shoulder to stop him and another over his mouth to prevent him from making any noise. Hinto must’ve already seen the guards, for he nodded, showing no surprise at Yvka’s actions.

The elf-woman removed her hand from the halfling’s mouth and motioned for him to retreat a bit down the corridor. He nodded again, turned, and moved off without a sound. Yvka followed, equally as silent. When they’d put a few dozen extra yards between themselves and the raiders, and the curve of the corridor wall hid them from view, Yvka caught up to Hinto and motioned for him to stop. The elf-woman knelt next to the halfling and whispered close to his ear.

“That looks like one of the storage areas Tresslar described,” she said.

“Maybe,” Hinto replied, “but that doesn’t mean it’s the place the raiders keep the prisoners.”

“True, but if it was merely a storage area for supplies and such, why would they guard it, especially this night, when they’ve left so much of the rest of Grimwall unguarded?”

“Good point. What do we do now?”

Yvka thought for a moment. She still had a few tricks in the leather pouch dangling from her belt, provided by the ever-inventive and oh-so-devious wizards and artificers employed by the Shadow Network, but she wasn’t certain any of her toys would prove useful in this situation. Then again, sometimes the simple ways were the best.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”