The Archon's Assassin (53 page)

“Aye,” Nameless said. “Though sometimes snakes or scorpions. But this is the Liche Lord’s castle, so I’ll go with spikes.”

“Poison tipped, no doubt,” Albert said. “I wonder what he uses.”

“So, what now?” Rhiannon said, her haste apparently curbed.

Albert cocked an eyebrow at Nameless. “You take one side, I’ll take the other? The rest of you can follow in our footsteps.”

Bird dissolved in a flutter of wings and flew ahead as a bat. When he resumed his own form at the far end of the hall, he pointed to three spots on the floor. “Pits there, there, and there.”

“Or not,” Albert said, as Rhiannon made a beeline for Bird.

Nameless shrugged and went after her. Albert whistled as he followed, and Galen and Ekyls brought up the rear.

The hall terminated in a wall with a staircase in the left-hand corner spiraling upward, and a gigantic painting set dead center. The canvas was mottled with black mold, but Nameless could clearly make out any number of men seated at table sharing a meal.

“There’s a door here,” Albert said from over on the right.

It was small enough to be a dwarf’s door, oak paneled, and with a barred window.

“There’s steps beyond,” Albert said. “Twisting down.”

Bird was studying the painting, as if it offered a third possibility for further progress into the keep.

“It’s like the wedding feast of Nous and all His luminaries,” Rhiannon said. She stepped toward it, reached out to touch the canvas, but snatched her hand back at the echoing sound of a scream.

“Eminence!” Galen said.

Rhiannon’s face was a mask of horror, or shame.

The poisoner was already working on the lock. “It came from down here,” he said. “Oh, look, I’m getting faster.” The lock clicked, and he pulled the door open.

Galen shoved him aside and barreled down the stairs. As he rounded a corner out of sight, his saber rasped clear of its scabbard. Ekyls faltered for a moment, then went after him.

“Don’t mention it,” Albert said.

Rhiannon stood frozen to the spot.

Nameless felt the same way, but he refused the fear gnawing at his nerves by taking a stranglehold on his axe. It wasn’t right. He used to revel in adventure, look forward to the prospect of a good fight. Verusia had changed him. Or was it Mount Sartis and the fire giant’s gauntlets? Something had changed him, that was for sure, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

He carefully put a gauntleted hand on Rhiannon’s shoulder, implored her to look into the eye-slit of his great helm. She met his gaze, must have seen something there Nameless didn’t feel, and snapped into action.

“Come on,” she said, holding the black sword out before her and taking the stairs.

Bird shrunk and morphed into a rat, then scampered down into the dark.

With a deep breath and a hammering heart, Nameless went next.

Behind him, the door clicked shut, and when he cast a look back over his shoulder, there was no sign of Albert following.

THE COST OF LIVING

“E
asy now,” Blightey said. His graveyard breath was an icy chill on Shadrak’s cheek. “Realign and push.”

Shadrak’s hands shook with refusal, but it was wasted effort: he pushed anyway. He was compelled.

Ludo’s screaming went up a notch. It didn’t seem possible. Every inch the spike went in was a whole new level of pain. Shadrak felt it every bit as much as Ludo did. His innards recoiled like disturbed vipers. Feverous sweat poured off him, as if he fought an infection. And maybe he did, though not of the physical kind.

“Again,” Blightey said with a rasp of pleasure.

Shadrak’s hands obeyed. Something ruptured. Blood and filth slopped over his forearms, and the stench made him gag.

Ludo’s scream ripped apart into shreds of agonized wheezing. Crimson froth bubbled from his mouth.

“Ah,” Blightey breathed. “Almost there. Three quick shoves now: one, two, three.”

Ludo shuddered uncontrollably. His wheeze became a gurgling choke.

“Steady,” Blightey said. “Steady. One last decisive drive on my mark. And… push!”

Shadrak gave it more force than he wanted to. He tried to look away, but invisible hands held his head in place.

The tip of the spike burst from Ludo’s mouth in a spray of gore.

Blightey stepped in and closed his hands around it. Dark fire sprang up, then poured down Ludo’s throat. The adeptus screamed with his eyes, but the blood gushing from his mouth dried up almost instantly.

“Cauterized all the way to the point of insertion,” Blightey said. “Prolongs the agony. You should thank me.” He patted Ludo on the shoulder. “Everything a Nousian could ever want to learn about suffering packed into two, maybe three short days. Now, we just need to arrange for you to be taken out—”

Heavy footfalls cut him off. Running steps, from beyond the door on the far side.

Ludo let out a low moan from somewhere deep in his chest. His tormented eyes bored into Shadrak, imploring him.

Something thudded against the door, once, twice; and then came the sound of muffled voices, clipped and urgent.

“Your friends?” Blightey said. “I was so caught up in the impaling, I’d quite forgotten about them. And no guards on the walls, too. I must be getting old.” He cupped a hand to his mouth and called, “Sorry, we’re not in.” Then to Shadrak, he said, “Idiots. They’ve as much chance of opening that door as—”

An iron-clad fist smashed through the wood in a shower of splinters. It withdrew, and then the door flew apart as Nameless came crashing into the room.

If he registered the horror on the rack, he didn’t let on. Instead, he slung his axe over one shoulder and said, “You must be Blightey.” There may have been a quaver in his voice. Next time he spoke, though, the words came out in a booming cadence, like he was on the verge of bursting into song. “Well, if you are, I’ve a bone to pick with you.”

A rat scampered between the dwarf’s legs and dashed under a bench.

Galen slipped through the wreckage of the door and circled away to the right, saber in hand. The savage, Ekyls, came next, snarling like a rabid dog; and then Rhiannon entered, both hands wrapped around the hilt of her black sword. She took in Shadrak with a glance, but when her eyes found Ludo, all color left her face. Of Albert, there was no sign. Now there was a surprise.

“Eminence!” Galen cried. He ran toward the rack.

Blightey splayed his fingers. Purple motes swirled about their tips and shot toward the dragoon.

At the same instant, the rat emerged from beneath the bench and swiftly grew into Bird. Even before the transformation was complete, a swarm of bees gushed from beneath his feathered cloak to intercept Blightey’s magic. There was a deafening drone, a succession of fizzes, and then the smoldering husks of insects carpeted the ground. Blightey’s magic died with them, though, and not a single mote touched Galen.

Chains fell away from Shadrak’s mind. He slid both pistols from their holsters and let rip with a barrage of bullets. Each shot ricocheted from the back of Blightey’s armor. He aimed for the head, and was rewarded with a spurt of blood, but it may just as well have been a flea bite for all the effect it had.

Blightey whirled on him, but before the Liche Lord could so much as raise a hand, Nameless barreled into him. Blightey flew across the room and crashed into a workbench, splitting it clean in two.

Shadrak had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough. Swirling his cloak about him, he slipped behind the open door of the iron maiden.

Rhiannon remained frozen on the threshold of the room, eyes aghast, still riveted to Ludo.

Ekyls moved in on Blightey like a hyena come to feast. Bird waved him back as the Liche Lord got to his knees, but Ekyls leapt and brought his hatchet down.

Blightey’s hand lashed out and caught him by the wrist. Ekyls screeched as black veins coursed along his arm. Blightey lunged to his feet, holding the savage aloft with ease. Ekyls writhed and kicked, as dark tendrils crept up his neck and across his face. He punched Blightey with his free hand, split open his nose.

Nameless swung his axe in a murderous arc. The blades shrieked across the fluted breastplate without so much as a scratch, but the force made the Liche Lord reel and stumble. Ekyls dropped from his grasp. Half the savage’s body was webbed with black, and he seemed in excruciating pain. Nevertheless, he switched his hatchet to his good hand and hacked Blightey in the mouth. Blood sprayed, but the hatchet shattered against the Liche Lord’s teeth.

Blightey grabbed Ekyls by the throat. The savage’s face turned to coal in an instant, and he crumbled into dust.

Galen’s saber crashed into the back of Blightey’s head. A chunk of scalp splatted against the wall, exposing the unscathed bone of the skull.

Nameless hit from the other side, putting the full strength of the giant’s gauntlets behind his axe. Blightey slammed into the wall and slumped to the floor. This time, he was at least winded, and struggled to rise.

Rhiannon took courage from that and charged across the room, the black sword trailing flame like shadow.

Blightey flung a bolt of darkness at her. She batted it aside with ease; but then another bolt came, and another. Soon, Rhiannon was backing away, deflecting Blightey’s magic with her sword, desperate not to let it touch her.

Nameless and Galen came at Blightey from either side. The saber sliced an ear off, and Nameless delivered a decapitating blow that was stopped by the gorget. This time, the force sent the Liche Lord skimming across the floor. He crashed into the great sword he’d left leaning against the wall, sent it clattering.

Galen charged, but the flanged blade came up in Blightey’s fist, and Galen’s saber went spinning through the air. Galen went for a punch, but Nameless called out, “No!”

Realizing the risk of contact, Galen backed away as Nameless’s axe swept down. Blightey blocked with the great sword, but the dwarf had the strength of giants. Beneath its pauldron and vambrace, Blightey’s arm went limp, and the sword fell from his grasp.

Blightey made a fist of his other hand, then opened it. Two tiny shadows hopped from the palm and quickly swelled to the size of men. One grabbed Nameless by the right arm, the other by the left, and he froze at their touch, axe clutched tight in a death grip.

Rhiannon sliced through one of the shadow men with the black sword. The thing dissipated like smoke. She dispatched the other and dragged Nameless back.

Blightey’s face was a mess of bloody tatters, and here and there the invulnerable bone of his skull showed through. He glared from Rhiannon to Nameless to Galen, but he had forgotten about Bird.

A raven swooped down and ripped out an eye. Blightey hurled jags of lightning after it, but the raven banked away then landed in the form of the homunculus.

Where there should have been an empty eye socket, an angry red ruby burned out of Blightey’s face. His injured arm hung useless, but the other plucked a cloud the color of bruises from the air and sent it drifting toward Bird.

But Blightey had also forgotten someone else.

Shadrak held both guns in one hand, and with the other threw a glass sphere at the Liche Lord’s feet. A concussive blast swept the chamber, and Blightey bounced off the ceiling, then hit the floor with the clunk and clatter of armor.

And still he rose.

The cloud advancing on Bird drew back around Blightey, circled him faster and faster, until the Liche Lord stood at the eye of a raging vortex.

Shadrak did a quick check of his companions. Nameless was rolling his shoulders, gauntleted fingers clenching and unclenching around the haft of his axe. Rhiannon’s face was a mask of horror and frustration. Galen had taken up a position in front of the rack, as if he thought he might still protect Ludo.

Bird shot Shadrak a glance, then nodded to himself. He stepped in front of Nameless and Rhiannon, then dropped to one knee. He spread his arms to hold open his cloak of feathers. A sound like the chipping of stone rose from the floor. It grew louder: cracking, crunching, clacking.

The swirling storm occluding Blightey contracted suddenly, then belched forth in streamers of mist.

Shadrak instinctively flung himself into a backflip. He heard Nameless cry, “Shog!” but as he landed, he saw Rhiannon holding the black sword in a shaky grip, and the mist coalescing around the blade. With a swipe, she flung it back at Blightey.

The Liche Lord sighed and gave a lazy wave, and the mist dispersed.

The ground in front of Bird began to vibrate as a noise like an earthquake rose to a crescendo.

Blightey sneered and held up a finger. The sound ceased in an instant. Chains once more clamped down on Shadrak’s mind. Nameless lowered his axe. Rhiannon re-sheathed the black sword at her hip. Galen threw down his saber. And Bird hunched over beneath his cloak.

“Well, that was fun,” Blightey said. “I was loathe to curb your enthusiasm. I find it quite exhilarating, but not a patch on the pleasure your friend has given me.” He indicated Ludo with a flourish. “So, what do you think?”

Galen’s face was creased with strain. Rhiannon’s, too. Nameless seemed rooted to the spot, no more than a helmed statue. Bird was hidden beneath his cloak, but down on one knee like he was, he looked cowed, utterly compliant.

Shadrak tried to raise a pistol. Perhaps a shot would distract Blightey, weaken his hold. He moved it an inch, but then found himself holstering both guns against his will.

“You,” Blightey said to Shadrak, “are a naughty homunculus. I had considered taking you as an apprentice, but now I think you deserve the spike. As do you,” he said to Rhiannon. “You’ll probably like it. And you.” He leered at Galen. To Bird, he said, “I wonder how a shapeshifter will respond to impalement. I can hardly wait to find out. And then there’s you,” he said to Nameless. “You have annoyed me more than I’m used to being annoyed. I’m going to have to find a bigger—”

“Shogger!” Nameless growled. He shook with effort as he raised his boot a smidgen and scuffed it forward an inch. It was the same as he’d done against the vraajo in the woods surrounding Mount Sartis.