The Archon's Assassin (27 page)

“Are you scuts gonna just stand there gawping,” Shadrak said, “or are you gonna help me get this shogging door open?”

THE FIRST SHADOW

S
hadrak lay face down at the opening of a lava vent, the aroma of spiced meat thick in his nostrils. His finger rested lightly on the rifle’s trigger. Any more, and it would be too much.

Twenty feet below, Albert’s fat face was quartered like a pie in the crosshairs. He stood atop a natural table of rock, stirring a stone cauldron that steamed and bubbled.

The shogger had it coming, any way you looked at it. Always up to something, and lately, Shadrak had the sense it was something that concerned him. It wasn’t his usual paranoia. It was intuition. Something about the way Albert looked at him. The subtle change in his delivery. The way Shadrak’s skin crawled in his proximity, as if the poisoner were a breeding ground for fleas.

Whatever it was, Albert was no mug. He’d bide his time, wait for the opportunity, then do what had to be done to make sure he held the advantage.

Shadrak had learned the hard way it was better to be safe than sorry. That’s why he always made a point of knowing every last detail about his victims, as well as his colleagues. Sooner or later, the two became one and the same. It was only a matter of time. What he knew of Albert, he was only surprised it had taken so long.

A wave of heat scalded Shadrak’s face as Sartis passed beneath the vent, the top of his head a forest of flames. The giant had paced relentlessly since Albert had started cooking. Likely, the poor bastard usually feasted on nothing but goblins he caught and tossed into his oven. Even Quintus the mule was bound to be an improvement on that.

Perhaps this was it: the moment Albert showed his hand. However he’d managed it, he was in with the giant, at least for the time being.

Albert offered the giant a taste, but the spoon was too small. Instead, Sartis bent down and tilted the cauldron. His lips sizzled as he pressed them to the rim, and he sighed like a parched man taking a cool drink.

“Not too much, now,” Albert said. “Needs more spice.” He produced a glass vial from his jacket pocket, shook it vigorously, and poured the contents into the broth.

That started Shadrak second-guessing himself. The herbs and spices for cooking were strewn about the pot. Whatever this new ingredient was, you could bet it wasn’t sage or marjoram. Which meant Albert might have been double-crossing Sartis. Either that, or he knew he was being watched and was just creating the impression of a double-cross.

“Ready now?” Sartis asked, licking the grease from his lips with his forked tongue. His tail snapped and coiled in anticipation.

“One last stir,” Albert said, “a pinch more salt, and
voila
, as they say in Gallia. All yours.” He stood aside and offered the cauldron to the giant.

“At last,” Sartis said, lifting the pot with ease and draining the contents in one gulp. “Good. Very good.”

Albert scrutinized him for a long moment, then he grinned. “Glad you like it.”

“Now I’m really hungry.” The giant patted his stomach. “Come, let’s fire the oven.”

“One should wait a while between courses,” Albert said. “Allow the digestive juices to… Wait, I thought we agreed they were to be sautéed. Do you have a skillet? A stone one would be fine. Other than that, I’d recommend—”

“Now!” Sartis slammed the cauldron back down on the table, causing the cavern to tremble.

Shadrak backed down the vent, paused at the opening to sling the rifle over his shoulder, and then dropped over the lip to hang by his fingertips. He found a foothold and swiftly started to descend.

“Laddie, what’s happening?” Nameless called up from below.

“Quintus is halfway to being a giant turd,” Shadrak said. He let go and dropped the last ten feet, landing lightly in a crouch. “Now, get a move on. They’re coming.”

Nameless led them back down the slope into the mouth of the cathedral cavern.

Ekyls was slouched sullenly beside the iron oven. A black and yellow lump stood out on his forehead, large as an egg. The rest of his face was a swollen mess. Ludo hovered over him like a guilty mother not knowing how to comfort a homicidal child. Galen stood some way off, sharpening his saber. He looked up expectantly as they approached, apparently bored of waiting and keen to engage the enemy.

“Positions, everyone,” Shadrak said, then scrambled up a natural ramp and clambered onto a high shelf.

“About ruddy time,” Galen said. He marched over to an enormous stalagmite and pressed his back into it. With a raise of his blade and a nod, he edged round the other side, out of view.

Ludo took up his place behind the oven with all the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows.

Ekyls hissed and glared. “Stupid plan. Fight like a man, not hide like a boy.” He cast a sneering glance at the oven.

It was meant for Bird, Shadrak could see that. The little man had never come back from the tube he’d apparently flown into. Was he hiding, like Ekyls said, waiting till it was all over before he emerged to pick over what was left of the rest of them? It wasn’t like Bird owed them anything, and the way he’d just run into Nameless on the road didn’t exactly bode well. If anything, the creep had the feel of Dave the Slave about him: showing up when and where he wanted, and keeping his true nature a tightly held secret.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson, laddie?” Nameless said, angling his helm at Ekyls. “You’ve been told what to do, now move it.”

Ekyls glared back but then grinned—a sharp-toothed grin dripping with poison. It told Shadrak he’d do as he was told this time, but it was acquiescence lined with threat.

Ekyls loped off behind a natural plinth, dropped into a crouch, and twirled his hatchet. In an instant, he’d gone from sulking teenager to seasoned predator, and murder was writ large over his ruined face.

Nameless ambled to his position behind a boulder at the cavern’s entrance. He looked as calm and sure of himself as ever, but Shadrak doubted even he could stand against Sartis.

But what choice did they have? Even if they’d wanted to back out of the quest and leave empty-handed, the cathedral cavern was a dead-end. The only reachable vents all led to the cave with the table, and then on to the lava lake.

If it had been down to him, he’d have spent more time planning, observing. It was only because these bumbling idiots had gone and gotten themselves caught that they were having to wing it.

He should’ve come alone. Least that way, he could have taken Sartis out while he slept, and thieved the shogging gauntlets just like he used to thieve everything else, back in the old days.

Shadrak tested his sight, focused in on Nameless’s half-melted axe. He shifted his aim to the eye-slit, and for the merest instant was almost tempted. Take the money and run, they used to say back in the guild. Would that really be so bad? And it would get the Archon off his back, maybe even pave the way to him seeing Kadee again. But how could he face her, after murdering a friend in cold blood? Because, hard as it was to admit it, that’s what the dwarf was: a friend. Shadrak had no doubt what Nameless would do if their situations were reversed.

He swung the rifle toward the entrance instead. It still seemed suicidal, but they were committed now. Who knew, maybe they’d get lucky. Ekyls was a rabid dog, too crazed to know when he was beaten. And Nameless had that air of invincibility about him, like a child, oblivious to its own mortality. Both were confident, and even if they were deluded, it was the best chance they had. Galen was just a duty-driven ass who’d sooner die than retreat. That made him a rare breed and stupid to boot in Shadrak’s book. Ludo was just a waste of shogging space. They’d have been better off staking him out as bait, for all the use he was.

The ground began to shake with rhythmic thuds. Shadrak scanned the looming walls and reckoned he could reach a vent if the fight was going badly.

He could almost hear the voice of the Archon in his head, telling him to let Nameless fall and have done with it.

The cavern was bathed in shadow as the giant stooped through the entrance. Albert scurried behind, puffing and perspiring, small as a mouse in comparison. Or rather, a rat.

Sartis’s nostrils puffed out black clouds of soot, and flames licked about his lips. Sweltering heat and sulfurous fumes rolled off his charred flesh. Red streams of magma pulsed in the thick veins branching beneath his skin like fault-lines.

Sartis crouched before the oven and peered at the hole in the door. With a roar of rage, he ripped the door from its hinges and thrust a hand inside.

“Gone,” the giant rumbled. “Gone, gone, gone!” He surged to his feet, spouting flames toward the ceiling.

Shadrak rolled back from the edge. His lungs burned from the heat, and his beard was smoldering. He covered his mouth and nose against the fumes, and tried to find a part of the rifle stock that wasn’t too hot to touch.

“With a hey, Nonny, Nonny!” Nameless bellowed.

Sartis twisted at the sound, stooped to get a better look.

“I’m feeling rather bonny!”

The dwarf charged, smashing his axe deep into the giant’s ankle.

Sartis kicked out, but Nameless danced around his foot and chopped down on a toe, sheering straight through.

“With a hop and a hack, and a wench on her back…”

The giant screamed, and the ceiling shook in response. A stalactite crashed to the floor in a pile of dust and rubble.

Ekyls pounced at the other foot, hatchet rising and falling, rising and falling, great gouts of smoking blood spurting from the wounds.

Sartis stomped, splitting stone and sending a booming shockwave rolling across the cavern. Ekyls was flipped to his back, and Nameless bounced and clattered into the wall.

As the giant went to stamp again, Galen leapt beneath his foot, saber held high. Sartis bellowed as steel lanced through his heel amid a shower of molten blood.

Galen ripped the blade free as he dodged the steaming shower, but Sartis’s tail lashed out and sent him flying into the oven.

Shadrak rose on one knee and took aim. It had better be a good shot, because he was about to give away his position. He started to squeeze the trigger, but Nameless roared and ran back in, swinging his axe in a glittering arc.

Ekyls jumped up and hammered his hatchet into the giant’s calf.

Rubble cascaded from the ceiling as Sartis howled and raged.

Shadrak took a different tack, and got Albert in the crosshairs, but before he could fire, the giant’s tail undulated and coiled, leaving a hazy smog in its wake.

Sartis bent down and grabbed at Ekyls with iron-clad fingers. The savage was too quick, though, and sprang out of the way. The giant crashed his fist into the ground over and over, forcing Ekyls to leap and roll between the craters he formed.

The haze cleared, but Albert had ducked out of sight. Instead, Shadrak pointed the rifle at Sartis’s head.

The tail lashed out again, wrapped around Nameless’s chest, burning and constricting. The links on the dwarf’s hauberk turned red, then white. Nameless grunted and dropped his axe, legs thrashing, fists punching desperately.

Sartis rose to his full height and spun round—

—to stare straight down the barrel of the gun.

Shadrak fired.

A deafening crack resounded about the cavern, and a tiny hole appeared between the giant’s eyes.

Sartis blinked and put a hand to his head. The tail went flaccid, pitching Nameless to the ground with an almighty clang where the great helm struck rock. The giant rubbed a silvery smudge from his forehead and flicked fluid to the ground: the molten remains of the bullet.

Shadrak slung the rifle over his shoulder and leapt for the adjacent wall. Pain lanced through his injured shoulder, but he clung on, swinging from handhold to handhold, wincing against the thought of the giant’s fist pounding him into mush. He made it to a narrow ledge and rolled onto it.

Nameless was back up, swaying like a drunkard, hoops of partially melted links encircling his hauberk.

Ekyls poked his head out of a crater, snarling and hissing.

Sartis stumbled as he looked down at them. He clutched at his stomach and belched. Dirty yellow gas billowed from his lips, and his hands went to his throat. He coughed, staggered, and fell on his face. Dust spewed into the air, and fractures raced across the cavern floor. Cracks rent the ceiling. It groaned and sagged, then dropped a ton of rock on top of the fallen giant.

It took a while for the collapse to subside, but when it did, all that could be seen of Sartis was a gauntleted hand and the limp tip of his tail.

Shadrak climbed down from his perch and crunched over the rubble.

Nameless eased himself out from beneath a pile of rock. The black helm was coated with dust, but, incredibly, unscathed.

Ekyls was curled into a ball at the bottom of his crater, boulders all around him, but none seemed to have found its mark. With painstaking care, he straightened his limbs and tested them.

Albert emerged from behind a stalagmite and offered the savage a hand up.

Ekyls flipped to his feet, then vaulted over the lip of the crater. Before Albert could react, Ekyls screamed like a demon and came at him with the hatchet.

Albert deftly side-stepped and rapped a cheese-cutter around his throat. The hatchet clattered to the ground as Ekyls clawed at the wire, spitting and gurgling.

“It’ll take your fingers off, if you don’t cut it out,” Albert said. He turned to Shadrak and forced a smile. “It would seem I’m being blamed for something.”

Shadrak drew a flintlock. “Shrewd of you.”

Nameless salvaged his axe from the rubble and advanced on the poisoner.

“One more step,’”Albert squealed, “and I’ll finish him.”

The dwarf kept going. “Fine by me, laddie. He’s your bondsman.”

Shadrak couldn’t get a clear shot, as Albert kept tugging Ekyls in front.

Nameless didn’t seem to care. He stepped in, raised his axe.

“Stop! Wait!” Albert sounded like a girl who’d pissed her pants. “I was trying to help.”

“Try another,” Shadrak said, drawing the other flintlock to double his chances.