Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) (57 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)
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“Very,” said Winter. “Hell Wing is a separate pocket dimension linked to Damnation Row by a single doorway, protected by armed guards and a number of powerful magical wards. Each inmate is confined separately behind bars of cold iron, backed up by an individually tailored geas, a magical compulsion that prevents them from escaping. There’s never been an escape from Hell Wing. The system’s supposed to be foolproof.”
“Unless it’s been sabotaged from inside,” said Hawk.
“Exactly.”
Fisher frowned. “All of this suggests the riot was planned well in advance. But the prison didn’t become dangerously overcrowded until just recently.”
“It was a fairly predictable situation,” said Winter. “Once it was known the Kings were coming here. Especially if our mysterious planners knew of that in advance.”
From up ahead came the sound of ragged cheering, interspersed with occasional screams and catcalls.
“We’ll have to take it carefully from here on in,” said MacReady quietly. “We’re getting close to the occupied Wings. We have to pass right by them to get to Hell Wing. The Governor’s going to try and distract them with new attempts at negotiating, but there’s no telling how long that will last. It’s bedlam in there.”
A scream rose suddenly in the distance, drowned out quickly by stamping feet and baying voices. Fisher shivered despite herself.
“What the hell are they doing?”
“They’ll have got to the sex offenders by now,” said MacReady. “There’s a social status among criminals, even in Damnation Row, and sex offenders and child molesters are right at the bottom of the list. The other prisoners loathe and despise them. They call them beasts, and assault them every chance they get. Mostly they’re held in solitary confinement, for their own protection. But right now the prisoners are holding mock trials and killing the rapists and child abusers, one by one.
“Of course, when they’ve finished with that, there are various political and religious factions, all eager to settle old grudges. When the dust’s settled from that, and the prisoners have demolished as much of the prison building as they can, they’ll turn on the seventeen prison staff they were able to get their hands on, and try and use them as a lever for an escape. When that doesn’t work, they’ll kill them too.”
“We can’t let that happen,” said Fisher. “We have to put a stop to this.”
“We will,” said Winter. “Once we’ve made sure Hell Wing is secure. I know, Fisher, you want to rush in there and rescue them, but we can’t. Part of this job, perhaps the hardest part, is learning to turn your back on one evil so you can concentrate on a greater one.”
It was ominously quiet in the distance. Hawk scowled. “Should have put a geas on the lot of them. Then there wouldn’t have been all this trouble in the first place.”
“It’s been suggested many times,” said Winter, “but it would cost like hell, and the Council won’t go for it. Cells and bars come a lot cheaper than magic.”
“Hold it,” said Storm suddenly, his voice so sharp and commanding that everyone stopped dead where they were. The sorcerer stared silently at the empty corridor ahead of them, his scowl gradually deepening. “We’re almost there,” he said finally, his voice now low and thoughtful. “The next bend leads into Sorcerers’ Row, where the magic-users are confined. They’re held in separate cells, backed up by an individual geas. After that, there’s nothing between us and Hell Wing.”
“Why have we stopped?” said Winter quietly. “What’s wrong, Storm?”
“I don’t know. My inner Sight’s not much use here. Too many security spells. But I ought to be picking up some trace of the magic-users on Sorcerers’ Row, and I’m not getting anything. Just traces of stray magic, scattered all over the place, as though something very powerful happened here not long ago. I don’t like the feel of it, Jessica.”
“Draw your weapons,” said Winter, glancing back at the others, and there was a quick rasp of steel on leather as the team’s swords left their scabbards. Hawk hefted his axe thoughtfully, and then frowned as he realised MacReady was unarmed.
“Where’s your sword?” he said quietly.
“I don’t need one,” said the negotiator calmly. “I lead a charmed life.”
Hawk decided he wasn’t going to ask, if only because MacReady was obviously waiting for him to do so. He nodded calmly to the negotiator, and moved forward to join Winter and Storm.
“I don’t like standing around here, Winter. It makes us too good a target. If there’s a problem with Sorcerers’ Row, let’s check it out.”
Winter looked at him coolly. “I lead the team, Captain Hawk, and that means I make the decisions. We’re going to take this slow and easy, one step at a time. I don’t believe in rushing into things.”
Hawk shrugged. “You’re in charge, Winter. What’s the plan?”
Winter frowned. “It’s possible the rioters could have broken the magic-users out of their cells, but not very likely; the geas should still hold them. Captain Hawk, you and your partner check out the situation. Barber, back them up. Everyone else stays put. And Hawk, no heroics, please. Just take a quick look around, and then come back and tell me what you saw. Got it?”
“Got it,” said Hawk.
He moved slowly forward, axe held at the ready before him. Fisher moved silently at his side, and Barber brought up the rear. Hawk would rather not have had him there, on the grounds that he didn’t want to be worrying about what Barber was doing when he should be concentrating on getting the job done, but he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to upset Winter this early in their professional relationship. Or Barber, for that matter. He looked like he knew how to use that sword. Hawk sighed inaudibly and concentrated on the darkening corridor ahead. Some of the lamps had gone out, and Hawk’s gaze darted from shadow to shadow as he approached the bend in the corridor. The continuing silence seemed to grow thicker and more menacing, and Hawk had a growing conviction that someone, or something, was waiting for him just out of sight round the comer.
He eased to a halt, his shoulder pressed against the wall just before the bend, then glanced back at Fisher and Barber. He gestured for them to stay put, took a firm grip on his axe, and then jumped forward to stare down the side corridor into Sorcerers’ Row. It stretched away before him, all gloom and shadow, lit only by half a dozen wall lamps at irregular intervals. The place was deserted, but all the cell doors had been torn out of their frames and lay scattered across the floor. The open cells were dark and silent, and reminded Hawk unpleasantly of the gap left after a tooth has been pulled. He stayed where he was, and gestured for Fisher and Barber to join him. They did so quickly, and Fisher whistled softly.
“We got here too late, Hawk. Whatever happened here is over.”
“We don’t know that yet,” said Hawk. “We’ve still got to check the cells. Fisher, watch my back. Barber, stay put and watch the corridor. Both ends. And let’s all be very careful. I don’t like the feel of this.”
“Blood has been spilled here,” said Barber quietly. “A lot of it. Some of it’s still pretty fresh.”
“I don’t see any blood,” said Fisher.
“I can smell it,” said Barber.
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other briefly, and then moved cautiously towards the first cell. Fisher took one of the lamps from its niche in the wall and held it up to give Hawk more light. He grunted acknowledgment, and glanced down at the solid steel door lying warped and twisted on the floor before him. At first he thought it must have been buckled by some form of intense heat, but there was no trace of any melting or scorching on the metal. The door was a good two inches thick. Hawk didn’t want to think about the kind of strength that could warp that thickness of steel.
There were a few small splashes of blood in the cell doorway, dry and almost black. Hawk eased forward a step at a time, ready for any attack, and then swore softly as the light from Fisher’s lamp filled the cell. The cell’s occupant had been nailed to the far wall with a dozen daggers and left to bleed to death. Given the amount of blood soaking the floor below him, he’d taken a long time to die.
Hawk moved quickly from cell to cell, with Fisher close behind him. Every cell held a dead man. They’d all been killed in different ways, and none of them had died easily. They all wore sorcerer’s black, but their magic hadn’t protected them. Hawk sent Barber back to fetch the rest of the team while he and Fisher dutifully searched the bodies for any sign of life. It didn’t take long. Winter walked slowly down Sorcerers’ Row, frowning, with MacReady at her side. Storm darted from cell to cell, muttering under his breath. Barber sheathed his sword and leaned against the corridor wall with his arms folded. He looked completely relaxed, but Hawk noted that he was still keeping a careful watch on both ends of the corridor. Storm finally finished his inspection and stalked back to report to Winter. Hawk and Fisher joined them.
“What happened here?” said Hawk. “I thought they were supposed to be magic-users. Why didn’t they defend themselves?”
“Their geas wouldn’t let them,” said Storm, bitterly. “They were helpless in their cells when the killers came.”
“Why kill them at all?” said Fisher. “Why should the rioters hate magic-users enough to do something like this to them?”
“There was no hate in this,” said Storm. “This was cold and calculated, every bloody bit of it. It’s a mass sacrifice, a ritual designed to increase magical power. If one sorcerer sacrifices another, he can add the dead man’s magic to his own. And if a sorcerer were to sacrifice all these magic-users, one after another ... he’d have more than enough magic to smash through into Hell Wing, and make a new doorway.”
“Wait a minute,” said Hawk. “All the sorcerers in this prison were held here, on Sorcerers’ Row, and none of them are missing. There’s a dead body in every cell.”
“Someone must have smuggled a sorcerer in, disguised as a prisoner,” said Winter. “Probably bribed a guard to look the other way. This riot was carefully planned, people, right down to the last detail.”
Fisher frowned. “So someone could have already entered Hell Wing and let the creatures out?”
“I don’t know,” said Storm. “Maybe. I can tell there’s a new dimensional doorway close at hand, now I know what I’m looking for, but I can’t tell if anyone’s been through it recently.”
“Great,” said Fisher. “Just what this case needed, more complications.” She looked at Winter. “All right, leader, what are we going to do?”
“Go into Hell Wing, and see what’s happened,” said Winter evenly. “Our orders were to do whatever is necessary to prevent the inmates of Hell Wing from breaking out. Nothing has happened to change that.”
“Except we now face a rogue sorcerer and an unknown number of rioters as well as whatever’s locked up in there,” said Hawk. “I didn’t like the odds when we started, and I like them even less now. I can’t do suicide missions.”
“Right,” said Fisher.
Winter looked at them both steadily. “As long as you’re a part of the SWAT team, you’ll do whatever I require you to do. If that isn’t acceptable, you can leave any time.”
Hawk smiled coldly. “We’ll stay. For now.”
“That isn’t good enough, Captain.”
“It’s all you’re going to get.”
Fisher pushed in between Hawk and Winter, and glared at them both impartially. “If you two have quite finished flexing your muscles at each other, may I remind you we’ve still got a job to do? You can butt heads later, on your own time.”
Winter nodded stiffly. “Your partner is right, Captain Hawk; we can continue this later. I take it I can rely on your cooperation for the remainder of this mission?”
“Sure,” said Hawk. “I can be professional when I have to be.”
“Good.” Winter took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. “The situation isn’t necessarily as bad as it sounds. I think we have to assume some of the rioters have entered Hell Wing, presumably to release the inmates in the hope that they’d add to the general chaos. But if the fools have managed to break any of the geases and some of the creatures are loose, I think we can also safely assume that those rioters are now dead. Which means we’re free to concentrate on recapturing those creatures that have broken loose.”
“Just how powerful are these ... creatures?” asked Fisher.
“Very,” said Storm shortly. “Personally, I think we should just seal off the entire Wing, and forget how to find it.”
“Those are not our orders,” said Winter. “They have a right to a fair trial.”
Storm sniffed. “That’s not why our Lords and masters want these things kept alive. Creatures of Power like these could prove very useful as weapons, just in case the Peace Treaty doesn’t work out after all....”
“That’s none of our business, Storm!”
“Wait a minute,” said Hawk. “Are you saying we’re supposed to take these things alive?”
“If at all possible, yes,” said Winter. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“This case gets better by the minute,” growled Hawk. “Look, before we go any further, I want a full briefing on these Creatures of Power. What exactly are we going to be facing in Hell Wing?”
“To start with, there’s the Pale Men,” said Winter steadily. “They’re not real, but that just makes them more dangerous. They can take on the aspect of people you used to be but no longer are. The longer they hold the contact, the more real they become, while you fade into a ghost, a fancy, a might-have-been. Sorcerers create Pale Men from old love letters, blood spilled in anger, an engagement ring from a marriage that failed, or a baby’s shoes bought for a child that was never born. Any unfinished emotion that can still be tapped. Be wary of them. They’re very good at finding chinks in your emotional armour that you never knew you had.”

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