False Dawn: Ageless Mysteries - Book 2

by Vanessa Nelson

  All of them. All those lives. And the Ageless would do it, too. Thea had no doubt. Even the non-Conscripted workers would not be safe.

  Thea bit the inside of her lip, the sharp pain helping her to hold in a litany of curses. She didn’t want to go. She did not.

  But her brother had been innocent, too. And no one had stood up for him. No one had intervened. Saved him.

  It was an open wound in her. One that she could not ignore.

  It was the reason why she had joined the Watch. She had not been able to help her brother. She could help some of the people around her.

  And even as she did not want to go to the Citadel, did not want to face another Ageless, did not want to bring more of the memories back, she also knew that she could not live with those deaths on her mind.

  “Alright,” she said, word dragged out of her.

  Niath inclined his head. The only sign he had heard her.

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed, reluctantly. Delilah Soames would have to wait another day. “I have to be on duty in the afternoon,” she said, her voice sounding far away. He inclined his head, as if he had expected that.

  “Meet me at the Postern Gate at dawn,” he told her, then turned and stalked off into the night.

  Thea stared after him, stomach twisting, mouth dry. The Citadel. Tomorrow. It rang in her head with the same ring of threat as Conscription. But she would go. The Ageless-born workers deserved her best efforts.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Thea had not slept well, restless enough that Gilbert, who normally kept her company, had hissed at her and taken himself elsewhere, fur sticking out, tail twitching to express his displeasure.

  She had forced down some food, knowing she would need it, and managed to avoid her mother entirely before she left the house, heading for the Postern Gate. Her mother was far too perceptive, and would want to know what was wrong.

  The thought of the Treasury workers, under threat of death, kept her moving through the city. At this hour it was only just beginning to stir, and the Watch were a common enough sight that she did not draw much attention until she reached the Citadel perimeter. Even though this was not Watch business, and even though it carried no legal weight within the Citadel’s boundaries, she had put on her uniform. It was familiar and comfortable. It might not mean anything to the Ageless or the Archon’s soldiers, but it would mean something to the workers. And it meant something to her. She had earned the right to wear the uniform.

  There were soldiers on duty at the perimeter. There always were. Their black uniforms blended into the shadows, the wing symbol of the Archon standing out in brilliant white.

  The quartet of soldiers, Ageless-born, had spotted her long before she reached them. They didn’t move, holding their ground just inside the Citadel’s perimeter.

  The magic line that separated the city and the Citadel was brilliant blue in the first light of dawn, along with the depiction of an Ageless in flight, their wings fully outstretched, painted onto the road surface. No one could cross the perimeter unawares. And the Archon had ruthlessly restricted the number of places it was possible to cross into the Citadel’s grounds. All the crossing places were guarded.

  “What’s your business?” one of the soldiers asked. He was standing in the road in front of her, blocking her path, thumbs tucked into his belt. No weapons were drawn. But an Ageless-born, trained soldier did not need weapons to be dangerous.

  “Good morning,” Thea said. “I’ve an appointment at the Postern Gate,” she said. Niath had not said that his business was secret, but she assumed so.

  “You don’t have authority here,” the soldier said, not moving.

  “No, I don’t. But citizens of the city are allowed to enter the Citadel’s grounds, are we not?” Thea asked.

  “I suppose.” The soldier eyed her up and down, clearly checking for weapons.

  Thea bore the scrutiny, used to the behaviour of the Archon’s soldiers. They knew as well as she did that the citizens of Accanter, including the Watch, were forbidden from carrying bladed weapons. The only thing she normally carried that might have been a weapon was the crossbow, used only to fire the blunt-ended bolts with mage-made paint that marked suspects for the Watch. And today she didn’t even have that as she was not on Watch business.

  “Don’t make trouble,” the soldier warned, stepping aside.

  “Good day to you,” Thea said, continuing on her way, hoping that she did not look as sick as she felt.

  The soldier’s conduct was petty bullying, but there could be very real consequences to annoying one of the Archon’s soldiers, or one of the Ageless. They could hurt her, or worse, and not be punished.

  For the first time since she and her mother had come to the city, she was inside the Citadel perimeter. Walking along a wide, paved road, with high walls around her concealing the large houses of the wealthy who could afford to live within the Citadel’s boundaries.

  As the dawn light grew, she could see more details. Carvings on the walls. The beautifully crafted gates made of finely worked iron that gave tantalising glimpses to the grounds and houses protected by the walls and gates.

  On another day, in other circumstances, she might have been tempted to pay more attention to everything around her. The craftsmanship that she could see was outstanding. Today, though, she was running late, and did not want to be here at all.

  So she kept moving towards the great cliff face, close enough now that she could not in fact see the Citadel, just the seemingly endless dark rock of the cliff face that rose above her. The road curved, following the side of the cliff face. Although she had never travelled the road before, she knew that it led through the Postern Gate and then twisted up the side of the mountain until it reached the Citadel itself. It was the only road that the citizens of Accanter had into their Citadel. There were rumours of another road, that came in through a secret gate on the other side of the Citadel and led away from the city, but Thea did not know anyone who had seen either the gate or the road.

  The Postern Gate was an enormous structure, easily twice the size of her mother’s house. It was built of the same pale stone as the Citadel itself and stretched across the road, its main archway high and wide enough to accommodate wagons passing through, or an Ageless with their wings spread. There were smaller archways to either side to allow people to walk through. Thea glanced up into the heavy structure to see the narrow gap in the stonework. The Postern Gate was normally open, but could be closed on a whim, with great iron spikes that were suspended above the ground in the stone structure.

  Niath was waiting just outside one of the smaller archways, his dark robes a sharp contrast to the pale stone.

  “You are late,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. It took longer than expected.”

  “Did you walk all the way here?” he asked, brows lifting.

  “Of course. How else would I get here?” she asked, puzzled.

  “I assumed that the Watch might have a carriage. Or horses.”

  “I am not on duty,” she told him, pointing to her empty lapel. Her badge was in a pocket. “And even if I was, we generally stay within our own districts. No need for horses,” Thea said, shaking her head slightly, wondering how the Watch Captain would react to the suggestion that the Watch keep a stable of horses on hand, in case they were needed.

  “I see,” Niath said. He turned slightly. “This way.”

  He was leading them towards the cliff face. Not along the road.

  Thea froze, not moving with him, eyes travelling up the great height of the rock above her.

  She had assumed that Niath would have arranged transport for them to the Citadel. It was a fraction too far for a comfortable walk.

  She had not thought about it enough, she realised.

  He was taking them towards the platform. The wooden structure that ran on ropes and magic up and down the side of the cliff. The quickest way to get to the Citadel.

  “Off
icer March?”

  Thea blinked, realising that Niath had said her name more than once.

  “We’re going up in that?” she asked, voice higher than it should be.

  “We are,” Niath confirmed, frowning. “Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t like tight spaces,” she said. “Or heights.”

  “Oh.” His brows lifted. “I don’t think we can wait for a carriage. We will be the only two people in the platform,” he added, as if trying to reassure her.

  And she had agreed to go.

  “How long will it take?” she asked, forcing herself to take a step forward. And another one. She was already sweating under her uniform.

  “Not long,” Niath said, matching her pace towards the platform.

  It was waiting for them on the ground, door open. A wooden structure big enough to hold half a dozen horses.

  Not nearly big enough.

  Her feet would not move another step, her body locked in position. She could not move. Could not make herself take those final steps to the platform.

  “Tell me again why we are doing this?” she asked, voice too high and too thin.

  “Because the Treasurer believes his staff to be guilty, and I need your help to persuade him otherwise.”

  That was it. There were people under threat of death in the Citadel above. And she could help them.

  That got her the final few paces onto the wooden surface of the platform. It was tucked into a fissure in the cliff-face, rock on three sides. The platform might have been a simple construction when it was first created, but now it was a contained room, all the sides, ceiling and floor made of heavy planks of wood.

  Thea put her back against the furthest wall, not sure if her knees would hold her, and forced herself to remain still whilst the front of the platform was closed. Niath stood a few paces away from her, as if he understood that she needed some space.

  The platform was solid, she told herself. It had served the Citadel for years. From before she had been born. It was maintained by Citadel staff, powered by magic.

  It would not fall.

  There was a jolt under her feet, a shudder through the wood all around her, and the sensation of movement that made her stomach turn.

  It would not fall.

  It would not fall.

  It would not fall.

  She could barely see anything around her, pressing her palms flat against the wooden wall at her back. There was no air. She was choking.

  The walls around her were pressing in. Getting closer. Not enough room. No air.

  “The Treasury has nearly fifty staff members,” Niath said, his voice calm. “About half of them are Conscripted. They are all Ageless-born. They all live within the Citadel walls.”

  Facts. Basic information. Little pieces that her mind snagged on.

  Only half the Treasury workers were Conscripted. That was a surprise. She wondered how the others had found themselves in paid employment with the Ageless. Perhaps they had volunteered. Perhaps they were the rare Ageless-born who had survived and had stayed on after their Conscription had been served. Conscription lasted a minimum of twenty-five years, and the few Ageless-born who survived often had no lives outside their service to return to.

  There was some air. She could breathe.

  “Go on,” she said. It didn’t sound like her voice, but Niath seemed to understand.

  “The Treasurer himself is Ageless. He has been the Archon’s Treasurer for a hundred years. Perhaps more. Some of the senior members of his staff have been with him all that time.” Ageless-born, Thea reminded herself. They might not inherit their Ageless parent’s wings, but they did have a much longer life-span than most other creatures.

  “Does he know to expect us?” Thea asked. There. That was a sensible question. And her voice sounded almost normal.

  “He does.” For the first time, Niath’s voice had something other than calm in it.

  “What?”

  “He was not pleased that I was bringing someone else,” Niath said.

  Thea choked on an unexpected and welcome laugh. “Of course not.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “No. I’m not,” Thea agreed. Her vision was clearing, letting her see details around them. Cracks of light through the wooden wall at the front.

  “There’s a window in the front,” Niath said, not moving. “I can open it if that would help?”

  “No.” Thea didn’t need to think about that. Bad enough to know that they were rising through the air. Worse to be able to see it.

  “We’re almost at the top,” Niath said. “What else can I tell you? Oh. The Treasury is in the middle part of the Citadel.”

  “What does that mean?” Thea asked. She had never paid much attention to the layout of the Citadel, the little bits she could glimpse from the city. She had never thought she needed to know.

  “We will arrive at the lower level, which has the main gates, barracks, stables and living quarters for staff. The middle level has the Treasury and the training grounds. The upper level has the Citadel itself.”

  Thea’s mind turned on that for a while. It made a certain sense to have the Treasury further away from the gates.

  Before she could ask any more, there was another slight jolt under her feet and the sickening sense of movement stopped.

  “We will step out onto a short wooden walkway,” Niath told her. “It’s only a few paces.”

  Before Thea could ask him what he meant, the door ahead of her was opened, letting in blinding light after the darkness of the platform. There was the silhouette of a person, features impossible to make out against the light.

  “This way, Officer March,” Niath said.

  It took effort to move away from the wall, to take a step towards the light. The second and third steps were easier. And then she was at the doorway, and chill morning air brushed her cheek.

  There was just sky. Pale blue, long trails of cloud.

  A flutter of white overhead drew her attention and she glanced up to see one of the Ageless in the air above them, wings outstretched. A woman, wearing the black uniform of the Archon’s army. Doubtless assigned to patrol the skies around the Citadel. The Ageless seemed to stare down at Thea for a moment, then turned in the air, wings beating once, the down draft catching Thea’s cheek as the Ageless soared away.

  Thea’s throat closed up. She did not want to be here. She took another step forward, and the sound under her feet changed.

  She looked down.

  And froze.

  There was wood under her feet. But nothing else. Empty space beyond that. Down and down and down and down.

  She swayed.

  She remembered another height like this.

  Falling. Down and down and down and down.

  “Is she going to be sick?” someone asked.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time a new visitor chucked up their guts,” another person said.

  Thea blinked, finding her face wet with tears that were cooling in the breeze. She looked in the direction of the voices to find a half dozen people watching her.

  They barely held her attention as she realised that they were all standing on solid ground. Not planks of wood.

  She had moved before she knew what she was doing, surging forward, off the flimsy wood and onto bare earth. She staggered a few paces and dropped to her knees in an empty spot, breathing hard.

  She cringed, waiting for the laughter.

  It never came.

  Instead, there was the quiet sound of fabric, and the sense of someone beside her.

  She looked up to find Niath there. He was looking as serious as she had ever seen him.

  “We will take a carriage back down when we are ready,” he told her.

  She wanted to laugh, but thought it might come out as tears, so simply nodded her head once, and drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “You are being very kind,” she said. It sounded more like an accusation than the thanks she had intende
d.

  “We all have our own demons,” he said, surprising her. He held out a hand. “If you are ready, we should go.”

  “Of course.” She put her hand into his, his skin warm against hers, a slightly rougher texture than she would have expected, and let him draw her to her feet, with casual strength.

  “Here,” he said, and handed her a small, cloth-wrapped item. It reminded her of the oat cakes he had given her before.

  She opened the packet to find what looked like a round cake, small enough to fit into the palm of her hand. She took a bite as she walked with him and stopped dead in her tracks at the flavours. Rich, sweet and decadent. Red fruit and something darker. It filled her senses with warmth.

  “This is amazing,” she said, before taking a second bite.

  “Thank you,” he said. She glanced up to find spots of colour in his face. “It is a new recipe. I am glad you like it.”

  “Absolutely delicious,” she told him, after she had swallowed the last bite. “If you were not a mage, you could set up your own bakery. You would be famous throughout the city.”

  He looked down at her, as if judging the truth of her words. Whatever he saw in her face made him smile, a grin that took over his face and made him look far younger. He inclined his head.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “I mean it,” she said.

  “I know.” He turned away from her, a hint of colour back in his face. “We should go.”

  To the Treasury. The Ageless Treasurer and fifty workers he suspected of forgery. If he could not be convinced otherwise, the workers would die at his hands. Fifty lives. The weight of responsibility settled on Thea’s shoulders.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Treasury was a surprisingly small, squat building, set on a higher tier of ground that was accessed by a wide set of stone steps guarded at the bottom and the top by a pair of Archon soldiers. The soldiers, who to Thea’s surprise did not look to be Ageless-born, looked bored in the early morning, barely glancing at Niath as he passed between them.