“Doesn’t matter. He’ll still listen. And Therrik’s not in the best position with him to start with, or he wouldn’t be out here.”
“How did he come to be stationed here?” Lilah picked up her pace to catch up with Kaika, who had long legs and a long stride, even when she ambled.
“Picked the wrong side when the king was kidnapped this winter.”
“The wrong side?” Lilah thought of Major Therrik from the journal. “The side of the kidnappers?”
“The side of the queen. Who turned out to be the one in charge of the kidnappers. Was that in the newspapers? Or did Angulus keep it quiet? I didn’t check to see.”
“Why would Vann have sided with the queen? It’s not as if queens have ever had legal power in the Iskandian monarchy.”
“You’d have to take that up with his penis.”
Lilah tripped, an impressive feat given the perfect flatness of the ground. “Pardon?”
“They were lovers a long time ago, before Nia was queen or even knew Angulus, I believe. From what I’ve heard, it didn’t continue after the marriage, but when Nia needed someone to help take care of the witch problem infiltrating the capital—that being Sardelle, mostly—she turned to him. Maybe because they’d been lovers, or maybe just because she knew he had that magic-hating sword in his family’s crypt. Probably some of both. She seemed to see him as someone who would do the dirty work for her. And maybe, when it comes to magic, he would. But he wouldn’t help with the kidnapping of the king, even though Angulus is fairly certain she asked him to. Given that Therrik didn’t come to Angulus with any of what was going on behind his back, Angulus wasn’t—and still isn’t—too happy with him. Turning your back on a crime is almost as bad as participating in it.”
Lilah realized that this story must have come to Kaika through the king and not through Vann.
“So, Angulus personally signed the order to send Therrik up here,” Kaika went on, slowing down as they drew close to another chamber. “Therrik helped out with killing a sorceress who was trying to assassinate Angulus this spring, and I thought Angulus might revoke the assignment. This place is truly horrible, especially in the winter, which is most of the year, but, ah, perhaps I should not have been the one to suggest it.”
They stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, and Lilah looked curiously at Kaika.
“That was around the same time that Angulus found out that Therrik and I had spent a night wrestling in the sheets once, and even though it was years ago and meaningless, I don’t think Angulus is ready to accept me as Therrik’s defender. He wouldn’t bat an eye at me sleeping with a dragon, mind you, but it’s a bit of a stab to the heart that both his wife and I had already been with him before Angulus came onto the stage.”
“That would be off-putting, I suppose. What are the odds? I mean, surely Vann doesn’t sleep with every woman in the capital.”
“Nah, I don’t think so, but not for lack of offers.” Kaika grinned. “You’ve seen him with his shirt off.”
“I’ve also seen him yelling and growling,” Lilah said dryly, looking out upon a chamber similar to the first one they had entered, except this one had a solid octagonal pedestal that rose up in the center.
“He used to do less of that. Command has made him cranky. And that sword makes him extra cranky when magic is around. Sardelle says it has the ability to influence him. It certainly influenced... someone else we know. That’s a different story.”
Lilah pressed a hand against the cool wall. She knew almost nothing about the sword or what powers a magical weapon could possess, but that was an interesting notion, that his crabbiness about magic might not be all his own. Maybe Vann just needed to go somewhere far from magic and far from the headaches of command.
“But my point,” Kaika said, “in sharing all of that is that I don’t think he’s going to risk crossing his special guest, not when she arrived with orders signed by Angulus himself. He doesn’t want to be stuck up here for the rest of his life, I’m sure.”
“I wouldn’t...” Well, would she have? Made an unflattering report about him if he’d destroyed the journal? Maybe, maybe not. Not now that she had this extra knowledge. “I don’t want to cause him trouble.”
“Good. Now, are you going to tell me what’s in that book about his ancestor?”
“I’m not sure that’s my secret to share, but if he lets you, you can read the journal for yourself.” Lilah walked into the chamber, noting that one of the tunnels that exited from the area had collapsed. Broken chunks of gray rock littered the floor, too, and one lay right on the pedestal, half covering symbols carved into the top.
“Ugh,” Kaika said, frowning down at a dark, dehydrated pile of animal scat on the floor.
More interested in the pedestal, Lilah pushed the rock to the side, so she could see more of the symbols. They lit up with a yellowish glow, and she jumped back. A dark circle in the center of the pedestal also lit up, projecting a cone of swirling light into the air. Shapes and colors came to life, including words and a maze of dark gray lines that twisted about like noodles. Red lines ran through many of the gray lines.
“A map?” Kaika asked.
“So it is,” Lilah said as she sorted out what she was looking at, a three-dimensional display of the corridors and chambers within the mountain. Maybe the red lines showed which ones had collapsed and were no longer accessible? If so, it was over ninety percent of the compound. She wondered why this part of it had survived mostly intact.
“Hm.” Kaika frowned up at the ceiling, then hopped onto the pedestal, the lights shining oddly on her clothing.
“What are you doing?”
Without answering, Kaika stood on her tiptoes and reached toward a dark ceramic sphere nestled up against a light fixture. She hesitated before touching it, though her fingers twitched, as if she ached to.
“That explains why this room is still standing.” She moved around, eyeing the sphere from different angles.
Lilah remembered the shrapnel she and Vann had found near the other entrance tunnel. “Is that—”
“A TE-18. One of the earliest bombs. They made these when our people were still running around with flintlocks.” Kaika lifted her knife, and a soft scraping sounded as she carefully pried away some three-hundred-year-old glue—or whatever had been used to affix the bomb. “The fuse burned down, but obviously, it didn’t explode.”
Kaika hopped down, and Lilah skittered back. Just because it hadn’t exploded in the past didn’t mean it couldn’t do so now.
After examining it for a moment, Kaika shrugged and set it in the center of the pedestal. “I’d keep it to throw at a wolf, but it’s useless without a fuse.”
“Technically, that’s a historical artifact.”
“So it shouldn’t be thrown at wolves?”
“Probably not.” Lilah wouldn’t necessarily advocate putting unexploded ordnance in a museum, but some historical weapons aficionado might enjoy studying it.
“Think that’s us?” Kaika asked.
Lilah lifted her gaze from the bomb to the display still hovering over the pedestal. Kaika pointed at two tiny blue dots inside a square—a chamber—near the outer edge of the map.
“If so, that’s, uhm.” Creepy was the word that came to mind, but a professor should use something more scientific. Or at least more erudite. “Disconcerting,” she decided on.
“Because it knows we’re here and where we are?”
“Because I don’t know what it is.”
“Magic.” Kaika shrugged as if this was a comprehensive answer.
Lilah wondered if there was a way to make parts of the map larger. The writing was too small to read. Since Kaika had stood in the midst of it, she supposed nothing bad would happen if she tried.
Careful not to disturb the bomb, Lilah prodded a finger into the space where the two dots hovered. Her finger went through the boundary of the map, and the light shone on her skin, turning it a mottled blue and gray. When she wriggled her hand
around, the display enlarged in the area around it. The writing came into view, mostly Iskandian, with a couple of labels that were presumably Referatu. From what Lilah had read, the sorcerers had spoken and written in the same language as the rest of the continent, but they’d had a lot of their own terminology for discussing magical things. “It says the western exit is closed off for the time being, due to the discovery of a potential dragon burial site that should not be disturbed.”
“Uh, does that mean now, or three hundred years ago?” Kaika asked.
“Three hundred years ago, I assume. But maybe I shouldn’t assume that, if those two dots represent us in the here and now. And, ah, what do those other dots represent?” She pointed at a knot of at least eight in a corridor that would eventually join up with the chamber they were in. The dots were moving.
Kaika eyed the dried scat near the base of the pedestal. “Nothing friendly, I’m betting.”
• • • • •
Vann crouched with his back to the wall, the light of a ceiling fixture illuminating the words in the journal. He could hear Kaika and Lilah up ahead. They’d stopped moving and were discussing something. He had followed them after quickly telling his men where he was going, but he had stayed far enough back so they wouldn’t see him, since he had the feeling Lilah didn’t want anything to do with him and might not appreciate his company. If there hadn’t been unknown dangers around, he would have let them explore on their own. He had no doubt that they were both capable, but to twiddle his thumbs in camp while they potentially risked themselves would not have been acceptable.
Now, he waited while they discussed whatever they had found. He had been tempted to inch closer earlier when he’d heard his name come up, but Kaika wasn’t an adventuring neophyte, and she would have detected him if he’d drawn too close. Even though he hadn’t made any noise, she might already know he was back here.
Turning the pages silently, Vann flipped to the front of the journal. He had already perused the entry Lilah had mentioned and had been quite stunned to find his family name mentioned. Even more alarming was the insinuation that his ancestor might have been the one to shoot the officer who had penned the journal. Captain Molisak. Vann had met a Molisak in the service, even boxed with the man when they’d lived in the same barracks as lieutenants. To think that Vann’s ancestor might have killed Molisak’s ancestor was disturbing. True, he didn’t know what had happened and couldn’t, unless Lilah found some further evidence. The long-dead Captain Molisak might have tried to stop Major Therrik from completing his mission. They could have fought for their lives. The gunshot might have been an act of desperation or a defensive measure. Except...
Vann grimaced, remembering the skull, the location of the bullet hole. Captain Molisak had been shot in the back of the head. No, it hadn’t been self-defense. It had been murder.
The words on the page grew fuzzy, and Vann realized he wasn’t seeing them. He closed the journal and rested his chin against the binding. This wasn’t proof. Oh, Molisak had been shot; there was no denying that. And it had been an army-issue musket ball, but there was no way to know if Major Therrik had done it. Still, Vann’s stomach knotted at the idea that his ancestor might have shot a fellow officer. Over a disagreement on a mission, a mission that may or may not have been authorized. What had Major Therrik been thinking? Had he hated witches so much that he would go on an unauthorized mission to kill them? What bothered Vann was that he could almost see himself doing the same thing. What if he had lived back then, surrounded by witches—cowards who hid behind their magic while thinking themselves better than everyone else? And what if he had been given the opportunity to get rid of them? With the assistance of one of their own people? Might he have jumped at the chance? Maybe he would have told himself that it was for the good of the country and that the king and his superiors would forgive him later, if he was successful. Maybe they would have even given him awards.
Except that hadn’t happened, had it? Vann had read through his family history when he’d developed his interest in military history in general, and he couldn’t put a finger on who this ancestor might have been. There had been army officers in every generation of Therriks back through the centuries, and only those with distinguished records had been flagged, their stories shared in the family records. Vann had read about the dragon slayer and dozens of ancestors who had been honored for their victories in battle and their selfless sacrifices for the crown. He remembered nothing about a Therrik who had killed witches three hundred years ago. That meant the man either hadn’t been honored and remembered for his actions, or he had been killed before his history had been recorded. Had he died somewhere within this mountain when the explosives had gone off? Forgotten by the gods and his family? And history? And had he taken his soldiers to their deaths with him?
Vann rolled the musket ball between his fingers, the musket ball that had killed Captain Molisak. He didn’t know what he would have done in Major Therrik’s place. And that disturbed him.
“Stay back,” came Kaika’s voice from up the tunnel, much louder than the murmurs she and Lilah had been sharing.
Vann jumped to his feet, stuffing the musket ball and the journal into his pocket. He yanked Kasandral from its scabbard as he ran up the passage. The blade glowed a pale green.
A shot fired. Vann sprinted around a bend, cursing himself for dithering with his thoughts instead of staying closer to the women. A chamber with a stone pedestal came into view. He didn’t see Lilah or Kaika. He pumped his legs harder, almost leaping from the mouth of the tunnel and into the room.
A blur of black scales shot past in front of him. He reacted before having any idea what he faced, slashing at the four-legged figure sailing through the air.
Another shot fired from right beside him. A bullet slammed into the creature at the same time as his sword cut into it. It had the head and shape of a wolf, but was twice the size, with a huge barrel chest, and was covered in snake-like scales instead of fur. His blade cut into sleek and powerful muscles that armored it as effectively as chainmail. Fortunately, Kasandral had been designed to cut through metal as well as magical defenses, and even though the blade did not bite in as deeply as he wished, it was enough to derail the scaled creature. The strange wolf yowled and tumbled into the pedestal.
Lilah was the one who had shot it, and she was already spinning toward a second wolf, one running toward her from another tunnel. Kaika knelt, preparing some explosive to throw. Four more wolves were racing down an open tunnel and toward the chamber, claws clacking on the stone floor.
Vann pushed Lilah’s rifle aside, having already seen that they were dealing with magical creatures, and that bullets would be useless. He stepped in front of her, meeting the charging wolf. Even before it sprang, its head was even with his shoulders. Then it leaped into the air, rising above him, jaws like bear traps opening up.
He whipped the sword toward its chest. The wolf tried to twist to avoid it, but couldn’t maneuver much while airborne. Kasandral sank into the side of its neck. Once again, the tough scales and muscles partially deflected the blow, but the creature howled with pain and was knocked several feet to the side.
A resounding boom came from the other side of the chamber—Kaika had thrown a grenade at the mouth of the tunnel from which the four remaining wolves had been about to exit. They halted, their bodies disappearing behind smoke and fire. Bangs and crashes sounded as rock fell from the ceiling in the tunnel. Yelps sounded.
Lilah fired again, aiming for one of the two already in the chamber. Neither was running from the noise or their injuries. They stood shoulder to shoulder, snarling at Vann and Lilah. Her bullet hit one square between the eyes and bounced off. The creature shook its head, but didn’t even cry out. It snarled, only enraged, and it crouched to spring while its companion leaped onto the pedestal. Vann was tempted to rush forward and meet one of the attacks, but he didn’t want to leave Lilah exposed. Instead, he backed up, waving for her to stay behind him, with h
er back protected by the wall.
As rocks continued to tumble down and fill the mouth of the tunnel, Kaika turned her attention on the two wolves. She fired at the one on the pedestal as it crouched, readying to spring. Her bullet bounced off.
“What are these?” she demanded.
Vann didn’t take the time to answer, not when the creatures were coordinating an attack. It would take all of his focus to—
They leaped as one, the creature on the floor charging for Vann’s leg at the same time as its comrade sprang from the pedestal. He chose the one in the air as the greater threat and slashed at it first, but he also kicked out with his boot, hoping to keep the other from sinking its fangs into him or from getting around him to attack Lilah.
He connected with both targets. His boot slammed into the lower wolf’s jaw as Kasandral smashed into the head of the airborne one, the blade coming down above its eyes. The animal on the ground whipped its neck too quickly for him to follow, and fangs sank into his calf even as the other wolf collided with him. He’d struck a powerful blow, but its momentum and weight took it into Vann since he’d been unwilling to dodge, unwilling to leave Lilah exposed.
Pain erupted in his leg, and he tried to yank it away from the fangs sinking in, but he had to focus on the one that was close to his neck. Even though the wolf seemed stunned, its jaws still snapped reflexively, trying to grasp him even as he knocked it away.
Kaika raced behind the wolves toward the one with its jaws wrapped around his leg. She must have seen that the bullets were useless, because she had a grenade in hand. Lilah slid out from behind Vann as the airborne wolf landed and he pounced on it, slamming his sword down onto its spine. Using the butt of her rifle, Lilah tried a similar move. But her weapon did not have the power or bite of Kasandral. Vann hacked at the wolf again and again, hurrying to finish it off so he could help with the other one. It had released his leg, but now it snapped at Kaika. She clubbed it with her rifle, jamming the butt into its mouth, intentionally it seemed, because she tried to shove the grenade down its gullet while the other weapon held the jaws apart.