Twilight of Kerberos - [Shadowmage 01-03] - The Shadowmage Trilogy (Shadowmage; Night's Haunting; Legacy's Price) (27 page)

The wall was approaching at a terrible pace, the thick stone rearing up in front of him, growing ever larger. Belatedly, he tried to find the threads of magic, tried to summon energy that would enable him to avoid the inevitable collision that loomed. With the air whistling past his ears and the feeling of being utterly out of control, he was ashamed to find his concentration completely spent. As the wall approached, he tried to gauge his increasing speed and then let go of the cord.

For a brief second, he seemed to float through the air, and he fancied he might land neatly on his feet, coming to rest lightly on the ramparts of the wall. Instead, he barrelled forward helplessly. Tucking in a shoulder by sheer instinct at the last minute, he smashed into the battlements and the wind was forced from his body.

Lucius was completely dazed, and his head rang as he tried to take in air. He briefly thought he had been run down in the street by a racing wagon, and that well meaning citizens were trying to get him to stand once more. Not caring for their attentions, he tried to tell them that he just needed to sleep, but the words came out wrong. He was not even sure they were audible. Tucking his head under his arms, Lucius was irritated when someone dragged him to sit upright and started shouting in his face.

A sharp sting hit his cheek, and he shook his head. The voices seemed clearer now. He blinked and saw Grayling draw back her hand for another slap. He raised his own palm to show he was back with her, and it was sufficient to forestall the blow.

“Can you walk?” she hissed.

“I think so,” he said, feeling the complete opposite. With her help, he stood, and though the world reeled at first, everything quickly settled down as he took a deep breath. The motion was accompanied by a nagging pain in his chest, and he reached down to hold his side.

“A rib, probably,” Grayling said. “You were lucky that was the only thing you broke.”

“Got to get out of here,” he managed to say, and he found no argument from her.

“That’s the easy part. Grab that man’s sword. I don’t know if there are others on this part of the wall, but we can’t have gone unnoticed.”

“Where are you going?”

Watching Grayling retrieve her dagger from the guard’s chest, Lucius leaned heavily against the battlements, aware that the streets of Turnitia
–
and freedom
–
were just a few yards below on the other side. No other guards rushed their position and for this, he was grateful, as he did not think he could fight effectively in his current condition. Lucius yearned for a bed and a long rest, but steeled himself for just a little more discomfort before he could claim them.

Grayling had gone back to the rope and, wrapping her legs around it, pulled herself back along its length, hand-over-hand. After she had gone out a little distance, he saw her look back at the wall, as if sizing its dimensions. Then, taking the dagger from her mouth, she began to saw at the rope. Lucius frowned, as it seemed to him to be a remarkably foolish thing to cut a rope one was using for support. And sure enough, it snapped with an audible twang. Grayling dropped from view.

Stumbling to the edge of the rampart, Lucius looked down to see Grayling grinning up at him as she ascended the rope again. He leaned down to give her a hand as she threw a leg over the stone threshold, and instantly regretted it as pain lanced up his side.

As she stood next to him, Lucius looked at Grayling, the rope she held, and the wall.

“Don’t get it,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “That fall robbed you of your senses. Watch.”

Holding the rope in front of his face, she then threw it over the other side of the wall. It draped itself over the battlements to dangle gently just a few feet from street level.

“You see?” she said. “Simple.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

H
OVERING ON THE
border of consciousness and deep sleep, Lucius was only barely aware as his imagination and dreams ruled his mind. He only dimly recalled the flight through the streets of the city, supported by Grayling as he stumbled, taking seemingly random turns as they tried to shake any attempt to follow them. There was no memory of arriving at the guildhouse, but images of mighty Shadowmages commanding vast hordes of creatures from the darkest depths of the sea ran riot, the dreaded demons sweeping through Turnitia, claiming it as their own. He thought his wounds were tended to by the smooth and soft hands of a dozen half-naked virgins, but they were soon replaced by the threads of power twisting around one another, before fusing into a terrible energy that burned his eyes and boiled his blood.

Lucius did not know how long he had lain like this, assaulted by confusing scenes and half-remembered dreams, but a cold, wet touch to his forehead made him groan as his mind slowly travelled through the mental fog, back to the real world. A quiet voice forced him to open his eyes, though he quickly half-closed them again as light flooded his vision.

“You’re awake. Finally.”

Wetting his lips, which suddenly felt deathly dry, Lucius tried to focus on the woman sitting next to his bed.

“Grayling,” he managed to say.

“Indeed.”

“We made it then.”

She gave a short, humourless laugh. “You nearly didn’t. You damaged more than a rib in that outrageous stunt. I had to virtually carry you the last quarter-mile. We had to give you honeyleaf-dram to get you healthy again.”

Lucius sighed. That, at least, explained why he had been barely sentient. The dram was known to induce fever, and in sufficient quantities, coma and death. But the Hands had long used it to aid the healing process. With other concoctions from the guild’s laboratory, many serious injuries could be countered in a relatively short space of time, as the body’s own mechanisms were accelerated. Widely used among the nobility of Pontaine, the dram was eschewed within the Empire of Vos, but the Hands had learnt how to use it with only the merest chance of fatal results.

He coughed and accepted a mug of water from Grayling. Sitting up and taking a sip, he tried opening his eyes fully, and found his senses rapidly coming back to him, though he felt quite nauseous.

“How many got out?” he asked.

“Not enough. We’ve counted seven in so far, but I do not expect there to be any more. There has been no word of hangings, so we are assuming the others were killed trying to escape.”

“Well,” Lucius said, then fell silent for a moment. “It beats a noose.”

“Yes, it does. But Luber was one of those who did not come back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lucius had not known the man very well, but was surprised to discover that he
was
sorry. Sharing a cell with Luber, however briefly, had forged something of a bond. “We might not have escaped at all if it were not for him.”

“Maybe,” Grayling said, watching Lucius carefully. “Maybe not.”

Lucius returned her gaze, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. This was a moment he had been hoping to avoid for some time yet, but it looked as though there was no way out.

“Listen, you and I have to talk. What you saw at the Citadel–”

“You’re a Shadowmage, aren’t you?” Grayling asked, her voice low and secretive. He also detected a hint of curiosity, and maybe wonder. “I had heard you had all been wiped out when Vos entered the city.”

“I left. But others stayed, hiding.”

“There are others?” she asked, a little too eagerly, and Lucius winced. This was not a wise conversation to have when his senses were still addled, he realised.

“I can’t discuss this. But, Grayling, I beg of you–”

“It’s our secret,” she said, guessing his next words. “I know why you kept it hidden. Some of the others here are not ready to accept a wizard in the guild.”

He shook his head. “I’m no wizard.”

“If the stories are true, you are so much more.”

“Well... some of those might have been exaggerated. Like thieves that can pass through solid walls, you know?”

Grayling nodded slowly. “Are there others in the Hands too? No, don’t answer that. As I said in the Citadel, you can count on me. Mind you, I think the others might be more ready to accept you than you think. Especially now.”

“Why, what’s happened?” he asked, noting the change in her voice. He suddenly realised that the dram he had been given might well have knocked him insensible for longer than it had seemed. “How long was I out of it?”

“Three days.”

“God.” He tried to sit up and was pleased to discover that the pain lancing his side had been replaced by a dull ache. His head still swam though, and he took another sip of water to settle his stomach. It was only marginally successful. “Fill me in, then. What’s been going on?”

“They’re calling it the Thieves War.”

He sighed. “It’s started.”

“In a big way. Killings have spread across the city, and regular operations have all but ceased. Thieves are going round in groups, many with orders to do nothing more than hunt down those in the Guild. They have similar teams, and have been quite successful. We’ve lost nearly a quarter of our number already, and many are now too afraid to leave the guildhouse. There is a lot of talk about defecting. Of course, all of that just makes this place a bigger target.”

He thought briefly of the twins, and the price they had already paid in all of this. “What about the pickpocket teams?”

“Ambrose has completely shut them down. It’s just too dangerous. However, some have decided to go freelance, and others have been killed. Magnus sent enforcers to watch over them in the Five Markets, but that turned into a running battle with the Vos guard and more Guild men.”

“Is there no good news?”

Her expression was grim. “None to speak of. We’ve had our victories, but they have been too small and too slow in coming. Caradoc succumbed to his wounds, never responded to the dram. They’re talking about poison now. The docks have become a complete no-go area, at least in the dark hours. The thieves we had operating there have just disappeared. Bodies were found the next day, horribly mutilated, but we can only guess as to whether they are ours. The Guild must have hired real savages for that work. I am not sure what manner of man could do something like that.”

“I think I know,” he said quietly, but ignored her searching look. “What is the Council doing?”

“Panicking, mostly. At least, that is the word among the rest of us. Magnus told me to tell you that he is convening a council of war this afternoon, and your presence is requested if you are fit. I’m not sure though–”

“You can tell him I’ll be there.”

“I thought you might say that. You do need more rest, though.”

“I’ll rest until the meeting. But this is more important. We’re fighting for survival now.”

W
HEN HE WALKED
into the council chamber, Lucius’ first reaction was one of alarm. The large table that dominated the room seemed empty; only four seats were occupied. Magnus took his usual place, and had been joined by Elaine, Nate and the weather-beaten thief he had come to know as Wendric. Magnus’ bodyguards, Taene and Narsell, were standing behind the guildmaster, and Lucius had heard they had not left his side since the war began.

With so few members of the Council remaining it would appear that the Guild had been all too successful in its murderous campaign. Lucius found himself desperately hoping that others were engaged in secret missions for Magnus, that some plan was already being enacted that would secure final victory in this dirty war.

Magnus waved him forward, but the motion was slow and weary, and Lucius could see the strain and exhaustion the guildmaster was battling. He guessed Magnus had not seen his bed for the past three days.

“Lucius, good,” Magnus said. “I had hoped you would be well enough to join us here. Are you fit enough for action?”

“I’m ready,” Lucius said, without hesitation.

“The Hands are in need of every able-bodied thief now. I wanted you to take your place in this council of war, to advise and, if necessary, carry out the plans we make here. While you are not formally part of the Council itself, I believe that may only be a matter of time, to be resolved after this war is done. But that is something we need to set aside for now.”

“Of course,” Lucius said, surprised at the casual way the promotion had fallen into his lap. He forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

“We have taken too many losses over the past few days, and it is clear that the Guild of Coin and Enterprise is much stronger than we gave them credit for,” Magnus said.

“That may be true,” said Wendric. “But it may just be they were better prepared to start a war. While we were concentrating on business, they were planning this from the start, picking targets and building alliances.”

If Wendric’s remarks were a reproach to Magnus’ leadership, no one commented on it.

“We’ve got to start hitting back in a meaningful way,” Nate said. “We’ve got to pick our own targets. Show the Guild we will not lie down quietly, that we are still to be reckoned with. At worse, we can slow down the assault. At best, we can deliver a killing blow.”