“Sorry. We,” Hallic said. “I've been working solo for a long time. Old habits and all that.”
Mel chuckled softly.
“I understand. So how do you want to play this?”
“We don't have a lot of options. Darlheim's quarters are only approachable from one direction, since they are at the bottom end of the level. All we can do is get as close as we can without being detected and go from there.”
“Agreed. Shall we get on with it then?”
“Yes. Let's go.”
They flitted from one pallet of boxes to the next, moving soundlessly like living shadows. At one point, Hallic looked back and watched his daughter as she followed him. He nodded in approval and Mel smiled. Neither said anything but she felt a flash of pride at her father's gesture.
As they passed the elevator closest to the guildmaster's quarters, the two rogues could finally see the entrance clearly. They stopped and examined the area carefully.
“The lad was right,” Hallic whispered to Mel. “Myler's guards are enjoying their new position a little too much.”
There were six dwarves stationed in front of the door to Darlheim's old quarters. Two of them were standing next to the entrance, but both were swaying on their feet as they drank from large tankards.
Lying with their backs against the wall close to them were four others. One was nodding his head, jerking it up occasionally as if he was trying to stay awake. The other three were obviously asleep. Two were snoring loudly.
All of the guards were wearing chain mail hauberks that covered them from their necks to their knees and they were armed with swords and hammers. None of them carried a shield.
“Disgusting,” Mel murmured in distaste. “Their arrogance is astonishing. Do they really think, just because Myler is calling himself the new guildmaster, that they are now in total control of the guild?”
“It seems so,” her father said as he stared narrowly at the guards. “I don't recognize any of them, but considering the armor they're wearing, my guess is that they are mercenaries.”
He glanced at Mel.
“At least that's reassuring. It tells me that very few, if any, of our people were involved in this coup.”
“Good point,” Mel replied, nodding. “I had no hesitation at the thought of eliminating traitors, but knowing that they are just hired thugs makes this next part even easier.”
Hallic loaded his crossbow and his daughter followed suit.
“The two standing?” she asked him.
“Yes. You take the one on the left, I'll take the other one. Let's see if this magical defense, whatever it is, can stop a crossbow bolt.”
“And if it does?”
Hallic's lips twitched into an almost smile.
“Well, I happen to have a new friend who's a mage. Maybe he'll have a suggestion on how to neutralize it. One step at a time though. Are you ready?”
“Call it,” Mel told him.
“And....now.”
The rogues fired their crossbows simultaneously. The small weapons clicked softly as they shot their iron projectiles across the gap toward the mercenaries.
Both of the guards who had been standing in front of the door collapsed like puppets that had had their strings cut, as the bolts slammed into them. They hit the ground with a muted clatter, but none of the others seemed to notice. One of the sleeping guards grunted irritably and another one snorted briefly, but that was all.
“Between the eyes?” Hallic said to his daughter. “Well, well. You've been practicing. Well done.”
“Thanks,” Mel replied as she reloaded her weapon. “Your eye shot was efficient.”
“I wanted to keep the noise to a minimum.”
“So, which ones are next?”
“Wait a moment.”
Hallic was examining the scene carefully. He frowned at the sleeping dwarves and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Something doesn't smell right,” he muttered. “This was too easy.”
Mel looked from her father to the guards and back again.
“Meaning what?” she asked him.
She knew Hallic too well to dismiss his wariness out of hand. If he suspected something, there was a good reason for it.
“Come on, Mel. No dwarf, not even the lowliest of mercenaries, would get so drunk after taking out the leader of the guild that he would pass out. Not this soon. Gods, how could I have been so blind?”
He looked disgusted with himself.
“If those fools are the ones that killed Darlheim and your former apprentice, how did they do it? Do you really think that any of them could have been stealthy enough to assassinate Ethen and his friend? They were experienced rogues, and Ethen was nervous about his visit here. He would not have been caught off guard by such enemies as those,” Hallic stated with assurance as he nodded at the guards.
Mel pursed her lips in thought.
“That's a good point. Not even Darlheim, old as he was, would have missed hearing armored warriors entering his quarters. But if they didn't kill the guildmaster, or Ethen, then who did? Myler?”
Hallic snorted softly.
“Myler couldn't creep up on a stone without waking it. He's one of the worst rogues that we've ever produced. And any others who followed him wouldn't be much better. No, there is something else at play here. Those mercenaries are bait, nothing more, and we almost fell for it.”
Mel removed the bolt from her crossbow and hooked the weapon on to her belt.
“You've convinced me,” she whispered. “Someone, Myler or maybe Corbin and his witch, wants us to try to enter the guildmaster's quarters. Which make me wonder if Myler is even in there in the first place.”
Her father nodded as he continued to stare at the closed door twenty yards away.
“I doubt that he is. But whether Myler is still here in the guild or not is irrelevant now. He isn't the main danger. Corbin is. And just as important to me right now is a more central question. What killed young Nixil's friends? There is a danger here and we cannot just leave it alone and retreat.”
Both of the rogues remained still and examined the area minutely. After a few minutes, Mel sighed and looked at Hallic.
“I don't see anything out of place,” she admitted. “Except for those drunken louts, that is.”
“Drugged, not drunk,” Hallic disagreed.
“Drugged?”
“Definitely. But forget about them. They're irrelevant now. You are right though; there is no sign of a magical device or whatever it was that killed Nixil's friends. Which means that magic was not responsible. And it also means that I've been a fool.”
“What?”
“I'd assumed that the wards protecting the guild from hostile magics might allow a physical device to slip past them. But I think that was a flawed assumption. Surely the ancients were smarter than that and wouldn't leave such an obvious gap in their defenses. No, something else is at play here.”
“Something else? What?” Mel asked him.
“Let's find out. Load your crossbow again and cover me. I'm going to test this supposed trap and see what happens.”
“Father!”
Mel caught Hallic's arm as he began to stand up.
“What are you doing?” she asked him incredulously. “We don't walk into a trap on purpose. That's not our way. What about all of the lessons you taught me about subtlety? You can't simply stroll into the line of fire when we don't even know what the danger is.”
Hallic smiled at her and patted her hand.
“Who said anything about strolling?” he replied archly. “Now, ready your weapon. You might only have a split second to use it, so don't miss.”
Mel loaded the crossbow, her fingers shaking slightly, and then took a deep breath to calm herself.
He knows what he's doing, she told herself. He always does. I just have to trust him and do my part.
Hallic stepped out of cover and began to walk slowly forward. He appeared to be relaxed and the only evidence that
he was prepared for any surprises was that his hands were held out slightly at his sides.
Mel watched him move ahead, walking fluidly as if he was a predator stalking its prey. Even through her fear, she couldn't help but admire his confidence. If Corbin or his witch could see her father now, they would know who their most dangerous enemy really was.
When Hallic had moved to within twenty feet or so of the guards, he stopped and examined the ground in front of him. Mel stood up to get a better view and saw that the floor was discolored at that spot. Hallic glanced back at her and mouthed the word 'blood'.
She nodded and waited to see what would happen next. Obviously that was the spot where Tatten and Rox had been killed and her father was about to step into the same area, triggering whatever had attacked them.
Mel raised her crossbow and readied herself.
Hallic took one slow step forward, then another. He stopped again and turned his head to the left and right.
“I know that you are here,” he said softly.
It was so quiet that Mel could hear him even from where she was standing more than a dozen yards away. The snores from the sleeping guards seemed to fade away and silence descended over the area. The sense of menace was oppressive.
Who is he talking to, she wondered. There is no one here except for those useless guards.
“I feel you,” Hallic continued. “Like a stench in the air. You cannot hide from me, daemon.”
Daemon? What is he talking about?
“Ah, more prey.”
Mel shuddered. A hissing voice had spoken and the sound gave her goosebumps. It was cold and bloodless and it seemed to come from all around them.
Hallic was suddenly holding a dagger in each hand and he had changed his stance, lowering himself slightly and leaning forward on his toes.
“Prey?” he said with a dry chuckle. “Well, let us see. Come out if you dare and face me.”
An eerie laugh echoed through the air, evil and eager.
“Why should I?” the invisible speaker asked. “I will feed on your soul as I have done so many times before. As I did on two others of your kind, and on your old leader. His soul was dry and tasteless, but yours? Oh, yours will be a feast, I think.”
Chapter 12
Hallic moved ahead a single step.
“Come then,” he said calmly. “Let's see if I can find a way to blunt your appetite. Permanently.”
Another hiss of laughter floated past the rogue and Mel felt an icy shiver roll down her spine as she heard it. Her father still looked as loose and ready to react as he always did and she marveled at his control.
He thinks a daemon has infiltrated the guild, she thought incredulously as she held her weapon steady. Why would he think that? And what exactly is a daemon? I thought that they were only in scary stories told to children.
Hallic suddenly spun in a circle as a shadowy blur shot past him. He ended up in a crouch, his daggers gleaming wickedly. As he stood up again, there was a slight smile on his face.
“So you can bleed,” he said as he examined one of the blades. “I suspected as much.”
Mel narrowed her eyes as she tried to see what he was looking at. There seemed to be a dark stain on the tip of one dagger. A stain that was emitting a narrow line of smoke.
“How did you do that?” the unseen speaker asked furiously. “You cannot see me!”
Hallic's smile widened.
“What's wrong, daemon? Is it harder to kill someone who isn't old and bedridden?” he mocked it. “Come on. Try again.”
“Mortal scum. Your weapons cannot hurt me. I am simply playing with you.”
“Are you?”
The rogue held up the discolored dagger.
“My blade says that you are lying. Are you afraid now? How disappointing.”
“Arrogant fool!”
Hallic began to turn in a slow circle, prepared for an attack from any direction. He held his weapons out from his sides as he moved.
“Can daemons feel pain?” he asked the invisible attacker. “Does your wound burn? These blades are poisoned, by the way. Can that hurt you?”
Mel frowned as she heard a strange noise beginning to build. It sounded like a distant wailing, a weird high-pitched whistle of some sort.
“Father, be careful,” she exclaimed. “Something is coming.”
“I hear it,” Hallic assured her as he continued to turn. “Stay focused.”
“Ah, is that your child?” the voice said with wicked glee. “Excellent. I will tear her apart once I am done with you.”
Hallic chuckled.
“She's as skilled as I am,” he replied. “And she also does not fear you. Your threats are meaningless.”
The noise grew louder and now Mel recognized it. It was the sound of air moving at high speed. Wind. Something rarely heard in the realm of the dwarves.
A rush of air blew past Mel, almost knocking her off her feet. And before she could warn Hallic, the wind slammed into him and lifted him into the air. He flew a dozen feet, tumbling as he went, before landing heavily almost on top of the guards.
Before the daemon could take advantage of the sudden attack, Hallic was up on his feet again. He backed away from the unconscious guards, stepping over the body of one of the dead, until he had a clear space around himself again.
“Good try,” he said loudly. “But a waste of energy. Now what?”
The sound of the wind was gone and silence descended over the area again. There was no answer from the daemon and Mel began to wonder if it had retreated. How could they know?
Without warning, a spinning shadow engulfed Hallic. He reacted with a blur of attacks. His blades moved so quickly that even Mel was astonished by their speed.
By the gods, he is good, she thought admiringly.
As he fought the shadow, Hallic ducked and weaved and shifted his feet. He kept moving constantly, making himself almost impossible to hit. And his blades seemed to be everywhere at once, creating a shield of steel all around his body.
The daemon began screaming in rage, an earsplitting cacophony of madness. The shadow's attacks were so frenzied that Mel could not believe that her father wasn't being torn to pieces. But aside from one narrow slash across his right cheek that was oozing blood, Hallic was still unhurt.
“Get ready!” he shouted at her.
Ready? Ready for what?
“I am,” she called back as she held her crossbow steady.
She braced her wrist with her left hand and waited.
“How are you doing this?” the daemon raged. “How are you still alive?”
Hallic didn't answer. Instead, he somehow increased the speed of his attacks and then, seeming to sense more than see where his opponent was, he brought his daggers slashing across his body and stabbed upwards.
There was a shuddering cry of agony and, for the first time, Mel could actually see the daemon.
Impaled on the blades was a writhing, jerking shadowy mass. It was the size of a human, and seemed to have arms and legs and a head, but its outline blurred and shifted constantly. It was flailing at Hallic, but the rogue kept moving his body, avoiding the blows.
“Now Mel,” he called out. “Shoot!”
His daughter didn't hesitate. She aimed at the most vulnerable point of the target, just as she would on a mortal enemy, and fired her crossbow.
The bolt whistled through the air and slammed into the base of the neck of the shadowy creature. It shuddered convulsively, gave a final inhuman cry and collapsed.
As it slid off of Hallic's blades, the daemon's body faded and was gone. All that was left were a few streaks of smoking black liquid that stained the stone floor.
Mel hooked her weapon to her belt and hurried over to join her father.
“Well, that was new,” Hallic said calmly as he examined his blades. “Hmm. Whatever fluid it was bleeding was corrosive. Look at these.”
He showed the daggers to Mel. She was surprised to see that the edges were pitted and
uneven, as if they'd been dipped in strong acid.
“Ugh. Lucky that didn't hit you,” she said in disgust.
“Definitely.”
Mel frowned as she stared at the blades.
“Wait a second. You told that thing that the daggers were poisoned, but they're obviously not. Why would you say that?”
Hallic grinned at her.
“I lied,” he said with a shrug. “I thought that I might make it hesitate a bit if I sowed some doubt when I had a chance. Also, I didn't want it to sense, if it could, that these blades are special in another way.”
Mel watched him slip the daggers back into their hidden sheathes inside of his clothes and looked at Hallic curiously.
“How are they special?” she asked.
“Call me superstitious if you like, but once Larin had told me about the witch that was working with Corbin, I visited the resident cleric in the palace and had him bless my blades. Just in case. I may not be religious, but we all know that the gods exist. After all, they are responsible for magic and the entire mess that this world finds itself in now.”
“Only the lords of Chaos are responsible,” Mel corrected him. “The gods of Light are on our side.”
Hallic snorted.
“A god is a god, Mel. They do what they do for their own purposes, not for the good of mortals. But even so, Light is the antithesis of Darkness and so I got the blades blessed. Seems to have worked.”
The rogue walked over to check on the sleeping guards and Mel followed him. He squatted down and pressed his hand under the jaw of one of them. Then he lifted the guard's eyelid and leaned in closer to him. He sniffed carefully as he examined the dwarf.
After a moment, Hallic shook his head and stood up again.
“Just as I suspected. They've been poisoned. A slow death.”
“Poisoned? By whom?”
“My guess? Cindra. That daemon had to have been sent by her as a trap for any of us who tried to oust Myler. I'm guessing that he poisoned these poor fools following her orders. Slipped it into their ale, I suppose. Then he left them here to guard an empty room and was transported away by the witch.”
“Are you sure?” Mel asked. “What use would that sniveling idiot be to her or Corbin once he had set the trap? This was an attempt to sow dissent and confusion within the guild. Kill the leaders, including yourself obviously, and then the traitors would have a relatively free hand to continue their schemes without our interference. My guess is that Myler is dead.”
The Dwarven Rebellion Page 15
