Deathmaker

  The intensity of it made Cas blink and look away. Something clanked to the ground. By the time she looked back—it couldn’t have been more than a second—Tolemek was tearing the door off and thrusting it sideways into the hall. The edge rammed into the startled guard’s chest. Even though the man had been turning, swinging his weapon toward them, he didn’t get a shot off. Tolemek used the door to shove him against the opposite wall. The man’s grip loosened on his weapon.

  Seeing an opportunity, Cas jumped through the door and caught the guard’s rifle before it hit the ground. She leaped back, checking in both directions—and checking her pirate as well. He wasn’t so busy bashing the guard into the wall that he didn’t notice her grabbing the firearm. Nobody else was around, so she trained it loosely on the guard, but the man’s eyes were already rolled back into his head, the result of a few palm strikes from Tolemek.

  Cas waited to see if he would argue over the rifle—or try to take it from her. He did eye it briefly, but he simply took the guard’s sword belt, tightening it a few holes so he could hang it, complete with sword and cudgel on his own waist. Like he needed weapons to look fiercer. Cas gave him an insincere smile and risked getting close enough to slip the extra bullets out of the ammo pouch. She stayed on her toes, feeling like the deer watching the hunter, ready to dart away at any moment. Tolemek’s eyebrows flickered, but he didn’t say or do anything. After she had fished out the bullets, he headed down the hallway. Not in the direction that would lead to the stairs and the offices Cas had been led past on the way to her cell.

  She eyed the lantern, but it had struck the floor hard in the melee, and oil was spilling from its dented cache. The gas lamps on the wall couldn’t be removed, so she hoped he wasn’t taking her anywhere dark. She jogged to catch up with him.

  They hadn’t gone more than twenty steps, passing several other closed oak doors, when he stopped before an intersection and raised a hand to halt her. “Don’t fire unless it’s an emergency,” he whispered. “It’ll be too loud. They’ll sound an alarm, and there won’t be time to... escape.”

  She resisted the urge to point out that he was stating the obvious. Besides, she was busy noticing that little hesitation. Escape wasn’t the first thing on his mind, not when he seemed to have let himself get captured so he could get in here.

  The sound of rustling clothing somewhere around the bend reminded her to focus on the moment. Without warning, he burst into a sprint, disappearing around the corner in a blink.

  Startled, Cas hustled to the intersection. There were three guards in the hallway he had charged into. The closest one was on the floor, clutching his stomach; the farthest one was staggering backward, grabbing at his face with both hands—something dark and blotchy covered his eyes and nose. Tolemek was trying to take the middle one down, but this opponent had clearly had time to react. He had his sword out and swung it at the pirate’s head.

  Though shooting would have been a quick way to end the fight, Cas was as reluctant to make noise as he was. She grimaced as sword struck sword, the clash echoing in the hall. She raced to the man on the floor, who had recovered enough to get to his hands and knees. She kicked him in the side of the face. His head cracked against the sandstone wall hard enough that the thump rang out as loudly as the swords. The colonel would have found a way to take these men out with more honor—or at least without kicking them while they were down—but her size didn’t get her far in fisticuffs, and her mission was escaping, not sparing the lives of enemy soldiers. Fortunately, the crack against the wall dazed the man enough that she could remove his weapons without hurting him further. In addition to the standard cudgel and short sword, he had a pouch of Cofah throwing stars at his waist. She plucked it off with relish, glad for a projectile weapon that didn’t involve gunpowder explosions.

  She palmed one of the stars and stood, seeing if her pirate needed help. But the guard he had been trading sword blows with was down, his eyes rolled back in his head. The last man hadn’t figured out how to remove whatever was sticking to his eyes, and he could only flail ineffectively with his sword. Tolemek dodged the swats, ducked under his arm, grabbed it, and twisted his wrist so the man dropped the blade. After shoving him against the wall, Tolemek grabbed a key ring off the guard’s belt. He kicked open a door and thrust the man inside. Tolemek locked the door before his foe could recover. He grabbed the unconscious sword fighter and thrust him into another cell. It crossed Cas’s mind to help manhandle the last guard inside, but she couldn’t begin to lift one of these big men. Besides, Tolemek was handling the situation fine. He hoisted the last man into a cell and locked that door too.

  Interesting that he hadn’t killed anyone, given his reputation. Or maybe not. Even if Cloak had locked him into a cell, she was fairly certain he was Cofah and that these were his people or at least had been at one time. If this were an Iskandian prison, his choices might be different. No, given his record of killing her people, she was certain they would be different. She wondered if he knew there was a memorial on the Tanglewood Peninsula and that kin of the three hundred people who had died in that village made pilgrimages there every spring to pray for the souls of their lost loved ones.

  With the last door locked, he faced her. Cas had the rifle in one hand and the throwing star in the other. A good fifteen feet separated them. Enough for her to throw one of the stars if she were of a mind to. If she did, could she get out on her own?

  For a moment, they stared at each other, and she suspected he knew exactly what was on her mind. There was a wariness in his stance, like he was prepared to spring away if he needed to, but he didn’t look that worried. He probably didn’t think she was that dangerous with some enemy weapon native to his continent and not hers. She thought about showing him how dangerous she was, but what would that serve? Only to warn him that he had best keep an eye on her.

  Cas waved at the hallway behind him. “What’s the plan? There another set of stairs that way?”

  “Yes.” Tolemek held her eyes for another long moment before turning his back on her to lead the way.

  She watched the target area between his shoulder blades for several seconds before following. She hoped a moment wouldn’t come when she regretted not taking the opportunity to plant a bullet or throwing knife there.

  Another turn took them down another hallway of cell doors. On the positive side, it was devoid of guards. On the negative side, it was devoid of stairs or other exits too. That didn’t keep the pirate from striding down to the end. There wasn’t an interesting tapestry, decorative plant stand, or slyly placed lever that might suggest a secret door, but he rested his ear to the stone and thumped the blunt tip of the cudgel against it. Whatever he heard satisfied him, for he delved into his pouch, pulling out the vial again. He dabbed the goo on the sandstone, making a circle with it this time.

  Cas leaned against a side wall so she could watch him as well as the way they had come.

  “What is that stuff?” she asked, wondering where he had gotten it. The burning of the metal hinges had been handy, and if it could also burn holes in a six-inch-thick sandstone wall, that would truly impress her. She could think of a few useful applications for it back home.

  “It doesn’t really have a name.” Tolemek kept dabbing at the wall, trying hard to stretch what little paste he had to complete his circle. They better not get locked up again, because he didn’t look to have enough for another set of hinges.

  “How can it not have a name?” Cas tried to imagine shopping for it in some exotic market by simply describing its properties.

  “The creator didn’t come up with one. Though I hear it’s recorded as Brown Goo Number Three in his journal.”

  Oh, so this was something he had invented. Even though it had proven nothing but handy thus far, the admission, however oblique, chilled her. It was as if, in admitting to creating this little concoction, he had admitted to creating every horrible thing she had heard of the Roaming Curse using on its enemies—its victims. br />
  “Chastor?” someone called from the hall around the corner, the hall with all the guards locked in cells. “Ponst?”

  “Better hurry,” Cas murmured.

  “The wall is thick. This will take a minute.”

  Cas fingered the rifle, then decided on the throwing star. She bent her knees, readying herself in case a guard ran around the corner.

  An acrid scent lit the air. She had been too busy running out to grab that first guard’s weapon to notice it before, but she knew it was the goop burning. When she glanced back, the wall was charred and smoking, but it was intact. Brown Goo Number Three might not be strong enough to help them escape again this time.

  The guard in the other hall didn’t call out again, but his footsteps echoed ahead of him. He was walking their way.

  A grinding came from behind Cas, followed by a couple of grunts, then a crash as loud as a rifle shot. So much for not warning the whole fortress.

  She started to cuss at Tolemek, but the guard ran around the corner. He halted so quickly he skidded as he gaped at the end of the hall. That didn’t keep him from whipping his rifle butt to his shoulder. Cas was already hurling the throwing star. She trusted her aim and knew it would hit, but ducked anyway—she was the closest to the intersection, and that rifle had been pointing toward her.

  It never went off. The throwing star lodged in his throat, slicing into his jugular. Blood spurted from the severed artery, and the rifle tumbled from his fingers, clacking onto the floor. He crumpled soon after.

  Aware that beige stone dust had flooded the hall, Cas faced her pirate again. He had to have seen her take down the guard—so much for not showing him she was dangerous—but he didn’t say a word. He stood by a circular hole in the wall, the gaping orifice opening into utter blackness, and extended a hand toward it, like a man holding the door open for a woman at a café. So much for her hope that they weren’t going anywhere dark.

  “No, no, you go first.” Cas batted at the dust in the air, almost coughing when she spoke.

  Tolemek slipped through the hole and disappeared. He looked like he had dropped down. She supposed it was too much to hope that he was simply leading her into some nice forgotten tunnels that would deposit them on a beach below the fortress.

  Wishing she had kept the lantern that had been in their cell, Cas walked to the lip of the hole and peered inside. Her estimate of a six-inch wall had been off; it was more like a foot thick. That goo was powerful. The edges of the hole still smoked, and she wouldn’t have touched them if she hadn’t already seen Tolemek do so.

  “How far of a drop is it?” she whispered.

  She didn’t want to stall—someone would have heard that noise, and the dead guard would soon be missed, too—but she couldn’t see more than two feet into the gap. She had the sense of a vertical shaft dropping away and didn’t see any stairs.

  Tolemek didn’t respond. He hadn’t done something stupid like falling to his death, had he? For a moment, she thought she would have to go back the other way and hope she could avoid notice, but his voice finally drifted up from below.

  “Fifteen feet to a landing. Then there are stairs. Sort of.”

  Well, didn’t that sound promising?

  He didn’t sound farther down than his estimate, so Cas took his word. She ought to be able to land from that height without breaking anything. She stuck her feet through the hole and slithered over the edge. For a silly moment, she wondered what the view looked like from below. She might be an expert marksman, but nobody had ever accused her of amazing athleticism.

  She lowered herself down, probing with her feet, though logically, she knew she would never reach the floor without letting go. Also, her boots pressed against some squishy substance growing on the wall. Maybe it was better without the lantern.

  “You out of the way?” she asked before letting go.

  “Does that mean you don’t want me to catch you?”

  “It means I don’t want to kick your ear off as my legs flail around on the way down.”

  “Thoughtful.” His voice had shifted—he’d moved to the side.

  He hadn’t truly been thinking of catching her, had he? Having the Deathmaker’s hands wrapped around her waist sounded a lot more creepy than it did thoughtful or pleasant.

  A gong reverberated somewhere in the distance. Alarm. No more dawdling.

  Cas released her grip and fell into the darkness, her heart in her throat. Without any light, she couldn’t gauge the distance to the bottom, and could only guess when she needed to soften her knees for impact. The landing jarred her nonetheless, though a hand caught her arm, steadying her. Tolemek released her almost as soon as he touched her.

  “Thanks,” she said grudgingly.

  The air was warm and close, smelling of the jungle, of plants and decaying matter. The gong was barely audible from down in the well, but she heard it nonetheless.

  “You’re welcome,” Tolemek said. “The stairs are behind you. I’ll lead.”

  “Good, because I wasn’t going to volunteer.”

  He didn’t light a match. She supposed his stash would burn out quickly if he did. She found a wall with her palm, grimacing at the bumpy algae—or whatever it was—growing on the old stone. It was on the stairs too. Her boots squished with each step. At least they were going down. Down was good. There should be a way out to the beach or the jungle from below the main fortress.

  The stairs, beneath the inch of algae, felt old and worn. More than that, in several spots, the edge crumbled beneath her boot.

  “What is this place?” she whispered as they continued to descend. Their cell had been on the second story of the three-story fortress. Though there were no landings to help judge it, Cas already felt as if they had descended three or four floors.

  “Long ago, there was a dragon rider outpost in the base of this cliff,” Tolemek said. “Real dragons, not little mechanical fliers designed to look vaguely like dragons.”

  “Should you be insulting my people’s aircraft when I’m walking behind you with a gun?” She said it lightly, though his tone had miffed her.

  She expected some dismissive comeback, but he descended a few more steps before responding with, “Probably not. Are you as deadly with a rifle as you are with a throwing star?”

  “I’ve had more practice with firearms.”

  “I thought you were too young to be what the commandant claimed, but I’m beginning to believe that Zirkander would have recruited you.”

  His tone didn’t drip malice when he said the colonel’s name, but the alarm gongs that went off in Cas’s head rang far more clearly than those in the fortress above. She didn’t want to discuss Zirkander with him, or her work at all. The last thing she wanted was to slip up and give away some useful intelligence, especially to someone who could make explosive goop and only the gods knew what else.

  “Were you with the squadron last summer?” Tolemek asked in the same conversational tone, but there might have been the faintest edge to it. A were-you-among-those-who-fired-on-our-dirigibles-and-nearly-killed-the-captain-and-me-last-summer edge.

  “Where I am is watching your back until you get me out of this dungeon, and I think we can leave it at that.” Another throwing star had found its way into Cas’s hand. The cold steel was reassuring against her thumb. Maybe she would leave it there until the fresh jungle air was upon her face and Tolemek had taken off in his ship.

  Chapter 3

  The stairs ended at a wide corridor with the stone floors pockmarked with age. Some of the holes were deep enough to be considered craters, sizable obstacles in the darkness. Tolemek walked near the edge, fingers following the wall, taking care to test each step before he committed to it. He wasn’t expecting booby traps in the centuries-abandoned fortress, but crumbling floors could drop him into a pit as easily as an ancient architect’s whims. And then there was the woman walking behind him, making his shoulder blades itch. Thus far, she had been helpful, but it didn’t take some telepath of
yore to sense that she believed she would be doing the world a favor by getting rid of him.

  They came to the first intersection, the wall disappearing and his fingers brushing air, so Tolemek concentrated on the route. He had memorized the old map he’d found before coming, but it would be easy to grow disoriented down here in the dark. The few matches he had wouldn’t do any good without a lamp to light, and he doubted he would find one down here that still had oil in it. Or whatever they had used back then. There were tales that said the halls in the sorcerers’ homes were simply alight with their magic.

  Something rustled through the algae on the floor, whispering past his boot. Not magic, but a snake. Whatever sorcerous power had once imbued this place was gone, leaving nothing but ruins. He wondered if he was a fool to believe he would find anything here.

  At the third intersection, Tolemek said, “Left,” and turned down it.

  Lieutenant Ahn grumbled something under her breath, but kept following.

  “I do have a couple of likely escape routes in mind,” he said. “After I find what I’m looking for, I believe I can get us to the jungle.”

  She didn’t answer promptly. He admitted likely and believe weren’t the most encouraging words he could have used. Since he had only studied the fortress from a distance, he was reluctant to promise more. He feared that at any moment, the route would be blocked by rubble from some hundred-year-old cave-in. He had memorized a couple of routes to the library, just in case, but so far the only obstacle was the musty air. Possibly the snakes.

  “How does this stuff grow down here without light?” Ahn mused.

  “I’ve wondered that. Perhaps some residual energy left in the walls from those ancient sorcerers. Plants are highly adaptable, and most ecological niches get filled, given enough time.”

  Her grunt suggested she wasn’t that interested in his theories. Or that discussions of sorcerers made her uneasy. Or maybe she was imagining sinking her throwing stars into his back again.