Winter Be My Shield (48 page)

The air was growing more humid as she led him deeper, insulated from the cold outside. It was likely the hot spring never froze over and constantly fed steam into the air trapped in the caves. Isidro tried to put himself in Vasant's place and imagine his reasoning behind using these caves, when both of his enemies knew he'd spent so much time here. Surely he would have been better off concealing the books elsewhere?

But where in Ricalan could one possibly leave something so fragile and vulnerable to the elements?

Despite the thick blanket of snow and ice covering the land, winter was the driest time in Ricalan. The spring thaw brought floods and the summer brought rain. Folk had such a struggle keeping the things they used every day free of mould and mildew that winter cold and snow were something of a relief. Perhaps this was simply the best Vasant could come up with in the time he had.

So, Vasant left books here for Leandra to find and let her believe she had destroyed the treasure. But she wasn't the only one he expected to seek this place out — if he'd known of Barranecour then he had to have suspected the Akharians would be back one day. If he had left a decoy here to mislead Leandra, then surely he would have done the same for the imperial mages. Or perhaps something more than just a diversion, given that they intended to steal away the legacy he had left for his own people.

Isidro stopped in his tracks. ‘By the Black Sun, it's the bait in a trap.'

Harwin and Delphine both turned to him. ‘What did you say?' Delphine said.

For a moment Isidro froze with indecision and cursed himself for speaking without thinking. The Akharians considered it the duty of a slave to protect his masters from harm, but given time to think about it Isidro doubted he would go to any effort to keep his captors from harm.

But here he had done just that and blurted it out without a thought. The very fact that he had done such a thing suggested he was beginning
to think of his captors as comrades. That realisation filled him with a sudden loathing and disgust. He was a traitor.

‘A trap?' Delphine said. ‘What do you mean?'

The words had been said and there was no calling them back. ‘Vasant knew people would come to search for the books. He left some for Leandra to find and he knew Barranecour meant to seek them out. Perhaps he left a decoy for your people as well?'

‘What sort of decoy?' Harwin said. ‘He intended those books to be preserved. He wanted them to be found. There's no point hiding them otherwise.'

‘Preserved, yes, but for Ricalani mages,' Isidro said. ‘Vasant knew Barranecour would give him refuge and he chose to stay and die instead. He must have known the Akharians would be back. He didn't go to all this effort just to have the spoils taken by Slavers.'

Delphine frowned with a haughty lift of her chin. Isidro knew he had strayed perilously close to insolence but thankfully she was more concerned with his disclosure than his impertinence. ‘What sort of trap? How could he be sure it would be Akharians who set it off and not a fledgling Ricalani mage?'

Before he could reply Isidro felt a pulse of power ripple through his body. Harwin and Delphine felt it too. They turned to the north and Harwin frowned while Delphine hissed a curse.

‘They were about to open one of them when I came to find you, Delphi,' Harwin said.

‘By the Good Goddess! We need to stop them until we can investigate this more thoroughly!'

She turned to the deeper reaches of the cave and broke into a run with Harwin on her heels, but they had gone only a few paces when another deep thrum of power reverberated through and around them.

To Isidro it felt like being inside a bell when it was struck. The power filled his head and overwhelmed his mind and senses. His thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind; it sent a pulse of energy along his nerves ending in a burst of sensation that echoed back through him like, and yet completely unlike, one of Sierra's shocks.

Isidro stumbled and fell to his knees with bruising force. The lantern-stone around his neck flared like a falling star then died, along with the
mages' lanterns. For a moment they were in total and utter darkness, darker even than the most clouded night.

In the passage ahead a light flared in the darkness. It began as a blossom of flame but within the space of a heartbeat it swelled and burst into a great jet of fire. It roared along the passage towards them, and through the ruddy light Isidro glimpsed dark shapes at its heart. Men cowered away from the flames, and the blast lifted them from their feet and hurled them against the walls. Amid the great roar of flame and power he heard human screams cut short at the moment of impact.

The jet of flame seemed to bounce off the stone. Channelled by the cave walls, it cascaded towards them, as fast as a waterfall. Dazed by the power still echoing around his skull, Isidro could do nothing but watch, but the mages were quicker to act. Delphine and Harwin each cast a hasty shield across the tunnel.

The jet of flame slammed against it with an impact that shook the rock around them. The shields bowed like a sheet in the wind. The mages, strained and grimacing with the effort, held them steady, pouring all their power into it.

Then the flame vanished as quickly as it had come. Harwin let the shield drop and slumped against the preternaturally smooth wall, groping for a handhold that didn't exist, as he slid in an ungainly heap to the floor. Delphine merely folded where she stood, crumpling limp and exhausted. They were both gasping as though they had been winded, but as the last of the shield evaporated Isidro could no longer see them. The cave had once again been plunged into absolute darkness.

‘Light!' Delphine croaked. ‘Where is that Gods-be-damned lantern?'

In the passage ahead of them someone was coughing and choking and a low voice lifted in a ragged call for help.

Isidro felt for the cord around his neck and groped along it to the lantern-stone at the end. The bead always felt slick and warm with the fluttering tickle of power like the beat of a moth's wings against his palm. Now it seemed dry and dead and left a fine film of powder on his hand.

‘Aleksar!' Delphine demanded. ‘Where's your lantern-stone?'

‘It's dead, madame,' he said. There was no sense of enchantment within the stone. He tried to activate it anyway, in case he was mistaken, but reaching for it was like reaching for something that wasn't there. He was flailing in empty space.

There was a stream of green-gold light off to his left. Harwin had created a globe of light like the ones Sierra often used, cupping it between his hands with shafts of light streaming through his fingers. A pall of dust and smoke hung in the air, and there was a revolting, sickly scent that Isidro found all too familiar. He pressed his hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to gag and retch. It was the smell of burning skin and hair. It took him back to Kell's tent with Rasten standing over him with the hot poker reeking from the scorched skin of Isidro's back.

In the passage up ahead, someone began to scream.

It only made his memories worse. Isidro turned away and tried to focus on something, anything to convince himself of the reality of the present and let him drive away the past. But his heart was pounding against his ribs and his throat was so tight he could hardly breathe.

‘Here,' he heard Harwin say from somewhere very far away. ‘What's wrong with the slave?' He felt a hand on his shoulder and tensed as the healed scars on his back throbbed in sympathy. ‘Are you alright, man?'

‘Leave him be, Harwin. He is in shock. That blast probably rattled him like dice in a cup. Here, let's move him out of the way.' Together, they manoeuvred him to the edge of the passage, against the wall. Delphine crouched down to peer into his face. ‘Stay here,' she ordered him. ‘Do not move until I return, or I'll tan your hide. Do you understand me?'

He thought he tried to nod but he couldn't be certain. A moment later Harwin and Delphine were gone, heading into the deeper regions of the cave to give what help they could to the wounded.

 

An age seemed to pass before Isidro was able to force those memories down and anchor himself firmly in the present, leaving him shaken, drained and exhausted. He wasn't sure if he should be ashamed he had frozen up so badly in a crisis, or relieved he hadn't been forced to help save the lives of the people who had enslaved him. He hadn't felt this useless since he was a stripling boy who had just learned of his father's death. Would it always be like this when small sensations could overwhelm him and sweep him back into those awful days? If so, then Rasten had crippled him twice over.

Isidro waited for some hours while others dealt with the crisis. He watched in silence as the wounded and the dead were ferried out on makeshift stretchers. The ordinary soldiers had been defenceless against
the blast unless they happened to be close to a mage who was able to shield them. A few mages who hadn't been as quick or as focussed as Delphine and Harwin had failed to protect even themselves. Isidro heard later one Battle-Mage had died, probably knocked unconscious by the initial blast before he succumbed to the flames.

When Delphine finally returned for him she was drawn and weary and beckoned him to his feet with an exhausted flap of her hand. Isidro was chilled and stiff, so drained that a wave of dizziness swept over him when he struggled to his feet.

‘You were right,' she said. ‘It was a trap. A cursed vicious trap. We'll be leaving the place under guard tonight and in the morning the academics will be working with the Battle-Mages to disarm the others. It looks like there could be as many as four or five of them scattered through these caves. Maybe more.' She frowned, wrapping a strand of dark hair thoughtfully around her finger. ‘Are they all traps, do you think?'

‘I couldn't say, madame.'

‘There were books in there. Now they're nothing but ash. I tried to find some fragments but they crumble the moment you touch them. Do … do you think Vasant meant to destroy all of them rather than let them fall into the Slavers' hands? Isn't that what you call us Akharians?'

He was too weary to play games with words. ‘Yes, madame.'

‘Hmm. Well, you will likely be coming back here with us in the morning. If
any
of these caches were meant to be found by Ricalani mages you might be able to sense the difference between them and the traps.'

Isidro dozed in the saddle as they rode back to the camp only to dream of heat and flames and wake with a start that made his horse baulk and toss its head.

At the edge of the camp Delphine dismounted and handed the reins over to one of the men escorting them. ‘Thank you, soldier. I will manage the slave on my own from here,' she said as Isidro carefully slipped down to the snow.

‘Pardon me, madame, but didn't anyone tell you?' the soldier said. ‘Mage-Captain Castalior wants to see you and the slave both. He has ordered us to bring you to him as soon as you returned to the camp.'

‘Oh, by all the Gods, can't it wait?'

‘Sorry, madame, but those are our orders. This way, if you please.'

A knot grew in Isidro's belly as the soldier led them through the neat and orderly rows of tents to the Battle-Mages' quarter. His nerves were already frayed and he wasn't sure he had the strength to face this on top of everything else.

The tent the soldiers brought them to was the one Torren usually used for the interrogations. The soldier ordered Isidro to kneel and then stood guard over him while a servant was dispatched to find the captain. Delphine paced and fumed at the delay.

When Torren arrived scowling and sombre, Delphine pounced on him. ‘Is this really necessary? It has been a long day and the boy is exhausted. I need him tomorrow and I cannot have him shaking and puking all day.'

‘This is more important.' Torren had brought a pair of aides with him. He gestured to Isidro and the aides set about the usual preparations for an interrogation, stripping him to the waist and binding his hands, while Delphine watched in shock. While she had seen the aftermath many times, she had never been privy to the process of an interrogation before.

‘Torren,' Delphine began with a scowl, but before she could launch on a tirade, Torren shoved a sheaf of papers in her direction.

‘Here. Read.'

She snatched the pages from his hand and held them up to the light. After a moment her eyes grew wide and Isidro's heart sank. ‘When did you get this?' Delphine demanded.

‘The messenger carrying it arrived this afternoon. This wretch has been lying to us from the moment he arrived here.'

‘Torren, no. There must be some other explanation. The slave has never given me reason to think him untrustworthy. He has never been the slightest bit of trouble or shown any tendency towards rebellion …'

Torren shook his head with a low chuckle. ‘I know you've lived a sheltered life, but think about what you just said. Doesn't it strike you as strange that an unseasoned barbarian slave, one who used to be a warrior at that, has bowed his head to service so readily? I've seen enough of this fellow to know he's no coward, despite the way he shakes and trembles when we bring him in here. He's hiding something. I'm certain of it.'

She shoved the papers back to him. ‘I don't believe it!' she snapped. ‘You're just trying to renege on our deal now that I've nursed him back to health for you!'

‘Fine, then. I'll prove it.' Torren turned to Isidro, his eyes tight with anger. Isidro almost drew in a sharp breath out of reflex. It usually took the Battle-Mage some time to work himself up into a state of such anger. Depending on what proof he had, this could be a very long night.

‘Tell me again, slave,' Torren said. ‘How many apprentices does the Blood-Mage Kell have?'

This time Isidro kept his eyes fixed on the Battle-Mage's face. It did not matter what the papers said. He had to keep to the story he'd told. Admitting to a lie now would only make things worse. ‘Just one, sir, a man named Rasten.'