The Dragon Knight's Curse (The Dragon Knight Series Book 2) (7 page)

“And what will become of me?”

“You deserve your head to be rolling at my feet, but if I’m satisfied that you’ve given us everything, then I’ll drop you off with the guild. They’ll kill you if they discover your work in corruption, so all I’ll mention is Corbin and the valkrean attacks. I’ll even say you were too dumb to be nothing more than his assistant.”

“The Advent will have me killed once they find out I’ve been captured.”

“I’ll tell them to keep your imprisonment quiet. In any event, you can either take your chances in a cell or find out now if your neck can resist steel. So last chance, what do you know about my family and the Advent?”

With callousness in his throat, he said, “Your family? That’s right, Corbin went after them.”

“Do you know what happened to them? Who went after them?”

“No. Other Advent took over the corruption project shortly after we sold you. Vey and I came here to work for Corbin more directly.”

“Doing what?”

“Only Vey knows,
knew
the details. I got the impression he was smuggling something by sea.”

“You must know some of Corbin’s contacts, someone he would have trusted to carry out his dirty work. I imagine you still see a few every now and then.”

“They mostly stopped coming over to the office when he left with Vey, but they do still leave messages.”

“At his office?”

“Yes, but I gather them and take them to his mistress’ house for safe keeping.”

“Not his own?”

“He rented places sometimes, but he mostly used
The Blackfly
as his home.”

“A ship?”

“Yeah.”

“Where is it now?”

“You don’t know? He and Vey used it when they left.”

“Shit. Fine, so who’s this mistress? Where does she live?”

“Bethany Lynd. She’s some rich noblewoman who normally lives with her husband, but the house I go to is the one she uses for her erotic escapades with Corbin or any other man that says ‘hello’ to her. It’s the tall brick house on Granberry Hill.”

“Is she involved with the Advent?”

“No idea. I don’t think she is, but who the fuck knows with those people?”

“How were you recruited?”

The corner of his mouth cracked a smile. “I was at the temple in Qutrios, praying for my shitty life to mean something. She answered my prayers before I rose from my knees. I didn’t care who or what she worked for, I just wanted to be with her. I’ve never met another person as alive and real as she was.”

“We need every document and letter available in Bethany’s house and Corbin’s office. I know you can get into the office at any time, but how easy is it getting into the lover’s house?”

“I don’t have a key, but the servants have been instructed to allow me in entry in the early afternoons. Any other time and Bethany might be there with somebody.”

“Then we go to the office first.”

“Ever heard of
Summertide
?”

“The poem?”

“Yes. Do you know if Corbin had a copy or ever mentioned it?”

“Why would he care about a poem? No, I never heard anything about it.”

“I’m going to tell Ghevont to remove the paralysis spell. It should go without saying that any attempt at escape will be met with violence. I have connections with the guild, so there will be no consequences if I kill you in the middle of a crowd, understand?”

“Yes,” he said gruffly.

I nodded at Ghevont. He looked confused at first, but then remembered what he was supposed to do. The scholar lowered his arms and the yellow circle of light under Magnus dissolved away. Our captive stood up like a slow raising marionette and smoothed out his cloak.

I sheathed the longsword and pulled out a dagger, keeping it hidden under my cloak’s sleeve. “Lead the way, Magnus. We’ll be on your ass the entire time.”

The streets were still full of people heading for market stalls, shops, and taverns. It would have been easy for someone with any swiftness to make a break for it and hope to elude their captors. Yet Magnus seemed to take my threat seriously. He knew better than most what the corruption inside me could do.

There was no resistance getting into Corbin’s spacious office. Once there, my eyes never left Magnus as he, Clarissa, and Ghevont rummaged through the desk, two cabinets, and a small chest. They collected every letter and loose document they could find, placing most of them in Ghevont’s bag before leaving for Magnus’ cottage. Then, as we waited for tomorrow afternoon to arrive, everyone sorted and read through the papers.

Much of it was months old business reports with jargon that would require an accountant to make sense of. A few personal letters told of an ex-wife and daughter that our captive said lived somewhere in Voreen. Magnus was uncertain how much they would know of the Advent, but as he rarely heard them mentioned, he assumed they weren’t privy to any real information.

“Did the Advent learn anything new about corruption?” I asked our captive, who sat alone in a corner.

“I am also interested in that answer,” said Ghevont.

“I’m not familiar with what was old about corruption,” replied Magnus. “I just know you were by far our best subject, perhaps even better than Vey realized. In fact, I’d expect you’d be the one to uncover something new about corruption. You should barely be lucid by now.”

“I only learned that the power of corruption can be held back by even greater power.”

“Sounds like a precarious position to be in.”

“Some men can handle a shitty situation.”

“And some women,” added Clarissa. She slumped in her chair. “I’m sorry, Mercer, there’s nothing in my pile.”

“Get some rest, then.”

“Me? You haven’t slept on land yet.”

“I’m fine. I could go another day without sleep, easy. Trust me, if our friend here runs, I want nobody’s blade but mine to catch up with him.”

The next morning filtered through the cracks in the shutters. Clarissa heated cups of runny soup for our breakfast before we left for “Bethany’s shack of extramarital affection,” as the vampire put it.

Granberry Hill was not so much a hill as much as a big lump of pretty dirt within the inner city wall. The sea’s rhythmic undulations could be heard a hundred yards away. Many of the buildings here were much taller than they were wide, with the rooftop terraces implying their builders had been drilled by their supervisors to get the loftiest possible view for their egocentric patrons. We passed a hired caster using a water spell to clean the paved streets of horse crap, giving the orange stones a bright sheen.

Magnus led us to a short walkway hedged in by tidy bushes, which were sprinkled with little pink flowers that Ghevont plucked for future examination. The path itself directed us up to the four-story brick home we sought.

I paused my walk when Magnus stopped in his tracks. “What is it?”

“Look, those two appear to be guardsmen.” He was right. A man and woman standing at the front of the door were donning Dranall’s distinct dark gray armor and green mantles. “Guardsmen usually patrol this district from the perimeter. Something is wrong.”

“Lucky us. Ghevont, Clarissa, stay here a moment. We’ll check what’s going on.”

The guardsmen quickly noticed us walking up to them. The woman was sent by the other to intercept us.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”

“I’m an associate of Lady Lynd,” said Magnus. “Can you tell me what’s happened?”

“Robbery.”

“Robbery? When? What was stolen?”

“The most valuable items appear to be silverware.”

“And the ‘less’ valuable? I was keeping some of my boss’ papers in there. Were any documents taken?”

“A few desks and drawers were broken into, but the servants couldn’t say what they contained.”

“Shit. May I go check if my papers are still there? The servants can vouch for my identity.”

“Very well.”

“Did anyone see the thief?” I asked.

“She was caught escaping through the second-story window by one of the servants. All he could say for certain was that she was a she. He also said her hair was long and either black or dark brown, but it was still too early in the morning for him to notice anything more.”

Magnus thanked her and went up to get someone to confirm his identity. After a servant boy recognized him, we sprinted up to the second floor and entered a small study. Magnus did not need his key to unlock the already open drawer. He groaned when he saw its empty contents.

“This is not my fault,” he said.

“Only your own crappy decisions have allowed your life to be determined by someone else’s papers, so it kind of is.”

“But why now?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You must have been watched before we got here, meaning someone saw us going into your home and office.”

“The Advent?”

“Doubt it. They would want you and any information destroyed, yet this thief merely stole them once she figured out you’d been compromised. I’m sure she cared nothing for you. Corbin must be her target.”

“Wait! We can find her, or at least some letters.”

“How?”

“Vey placed runes on some fake forms. I just have to recreate it and cast a spell to set them off.”

“What happens when you set them off?”

“Depends on what spell I use, but I’ll just have a pulse of prana burst out. I’ll feel it if I’m close enough.”

“How close?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m certain I’ll be able to feel something if she’s still in the city.”

“Won’t the thief sense this pulse?”

“Probably, but maybe that’ll just convince her to leave the letters alone.”

“Or convince her to destroy them.” I sighed. “We have little other choice. Make some runes and let’s get out of here.”

I explained to Clarissa and Ghevont the situation when we went outside a few minutes later. Magnus then placed one of his paper runes on the ground and splayed his hand on it, focusing his prana into it. The triangular rune next lit up and the heat of the spell singed the parchment. Magnus stayed motionless a moment before turning to us.

“I got it. It’s straight north of us. Can’t be beyond the inner wall.”

“Let’s move!”

I forced Magnus up and pushed him ahead of me until we were at running speed. Our sprinting took us to the street hugging the coastline. It felt good sharply breathing in the fresh, salty air, but I was too busy to notice the invigorating sensation at the time.

Two hundred yards down the coast and I had Magnus try his spell again. The spark of prana told him we were on the right track. All my concentration went into my eyes, trying to get any glimpse at someone with long, dark hair, which accounted for half the women among the masses.

After the third spell attempt, Magnus said, “We’re closer, but she’s on the move. She’s more to the west this time, deeper into the city.”

“How far?”

“Like I said, closer. It’s hard to give an exact distance. I only remember one more rune in the batch, so we have to make it count. Should have made more.”

“You should have done a lot of things differently.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noted that Clarissa labored under the clear noon sky. Whether she could keep the pace was irrelevant. There was simply no way to accommodate her. “Let’s keep going.”

It turned out we were forced to run slower in the congested, intersecting streets. I assumed the thief kept moving away from us, so I waited a good while before giving permission for Magnus to use the final rune.

Removing his hand from the paper, Magnus pointed southwest and said, “She’s very close. Can’t be more than a hundred yards off.”

I scoured for a scalable structure. On spotting one, I used my most serious tone to say, “You two don’t let Magnus out of your sight. Ghevont, if he tries anything, I’ll allow you to do whatever you want to his corpse.”

“Ah, excellent. Perhaps you would like to assist me, Clarissa?”

I heard the vampire exclaim an enthusiastic “Sure thing!” before I stopped listening.

The streets had fewer people here, but a handful of onlookers still wordlessly wondered why someone was climbing a small house. The thatch roof pressed up against a taller building I jumped on to. Keeping my profile low by crouching, I began to judge which building looked suitable for a wanted burglar. What ended up attracting my eyes was not a lifeless building, but a living creature.

It swiftly crept on a roof fifty yards away, so all I picked up was the rough shape of a cat-like animal with reedy legs, short black fur, and an elongated body. It must have been three feet tall at the shoulders, and its large golden eyes had no trouble perceiving me. With supple fleetness the animal vanished behind a line of chimney stacks.

“Did you see that?” I asked Aranath.

“Briefly. Probably a zymoni. Sneaky little things.”

“It’s a summoned creature?” I asked, beginning a rooftop run.

“Yes. They’re dangerous in packs, but as roofs make poor camouflage, it appears this one is alone.”

A few hikes and drops soon put me in the same place the zymoni had been prowling. The creature remained undetectable, but there was an edifice that siphoned all of my scrutiny. Surrounded by a waterless moat was a temple of day and night. The reason I didn’t spot it from a mile away was due to its lack of towers. Instead, six stony stumps stood in their place, with three on either side of the domed structure. It was apparent that the temple had been deserted for years. Black burn marks from an old fire peppered the white walls, and missing pieces of the dome allowed the weather to assault its insides. If this wasn’t the perfect venue for an urban thief to set a trap for their pursuer, I didn’t know what was.

A few buildings hugged the ditch, letting me get close to the temple’s left flank. One building in particular rose ten feet above the temple’s narrow balcony, which protracted just below the dome’s curve. Along with eight glassless windows, a doorless entrance could be reached from the balcony. Thinking that starting my search from above would be better than walking in from below, I decided to take the leap. With a running start and prana-enforced legs, I hurdled over the forty foot drop and landed securely on the other side.

Anticipating that I had entered a cornered thief’s territory, I took every step seriously and unsheathed my longsword. I judiciously looked through the little windows lining the wall, observing a typical temple layout that consisted of worn stone pews, crumbling pillars, and unlit metal braziers. On reaching the entry, I outstretched my left arm and cast my illusion spell, sending the visual copy of myself running inside. Nothing reacted to it.

For the next phase of preparation, I summoned a mix of explosive stones and fire stones. I then chucked them randomly into the religious construction. They rattled without interference, even their own echoes didn’t blend into one another. There was nothing left to do after that but for my real self to go in.

Though no longer active, crossing the threshold made it the first time I stepped inside a holy place. I had gotten glimpses of it from the outside before, but my curiosity never reached a point where I listened to a sermon or experienced a priest’s unearned hospitality. The pecking impression that my impure spirit had no business occupying the hallowed space was quickly replaced by not giving a shit. Blood was likely to be spilled, and I needed to make sure it wasn’t mine.

The inner balcony continued to my left and wrapped around to the other side, expanding enough to fit more pews at its center. My right side held the stairs. Stepping toward the edge, I focused on the nearest stones and triggered them. The flash from the exploding rocks didn’t die down before I saw the zymoni dash out from behind a balcony pew. It became a blur of shadowy speed as it charged my way, emitting a noise that sounded as though a saber-tooth cat was trying to bark like a dog. From this distance I saw that the beast had two trim tails and a wolfish snout. Before it crossed the range of my blade, it used its strange, gecko-like paws to cling to the wall behind me. The beast then leapt down and headed for the stairs.

“It’s a distraction, boy!” said Aranath.

I was in the middle of coming up with that very same conclusion. I whirled back around just in time to avoid a thrown knife. At least, I avoided most of it. If I hadn’t, it would have impaled my thigh rather than only grazing it. The thrower of the weapon stood behind a pew, a short scimitar in hand. She was a tall, lean woman in her early thirties. Her long black hair was tied into a ponytail and a light caramel color dyed her skin. The only defensive pieces of clothing were her steel gauntlets. Otherwise, she wore thigh-high leather boots, a dark blue corselet, and a short skirt. Even drenched in shadows it was plain to see that her composed face was the type men wanted to wake up to in the morning.

Knowing it wasn’t a good idea to have the zymoni out of my sight, I started retreating to the stairs. As I did so, the woman strolled out from behind the pew with casual grace. Halfway down the stairway, I caught the zymoni staring up at me from the middle of the temple floor. I almost took a rough dive when my foot slipped on a step. I initially thought I suffered from a lapse of concentration, but the sudden wooziness overcoming my senses forced me to consider another possibility.

My wobbling knees struggled to keep me standing by the time I reached the flat floor. My forehead dripped thick beads of sweat and my eyesight only distinguished the thief as a descending blotch. As for my ears, they heard a slurring drunk when the woman said, “Don’t worry, little man, my toxin won’t kill you.
I
will if your friends show up and are dumb enough to attack me. Now, who are you?”