Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1)

by Saffron Bryant

  His head spun, and only when he was about to pass out from lack of energy did he let his hand fall. He curled into a tighter ball, clutched Rae’s heat stone, and fell into troubled sleep.

  62

  Ash crept through the trees, letting dull moonlight guide his way, until he stood within earshot of the prisoners’ camp. They were still one day from the Stronghold and so had yet to meet with the wolves. One guard stood sentry but he kept turning back to his companions to share a joke or drink.

  The prisoners huddled in a bunch on the other side of the flames, shivering. Heavy rope bound them together and made thick coils in the melted snow.

  Ash circled around in the shadowed trees, the crackling fire masking his soft footsteps, until the prisoners sat between him and the guards. He took a deep breath and as the guards shared a hearty laugh, he darted out of the cover of the trees and dove to the ground behind the prisoners.

  They gasped and pulled away.

  “Shh!” Ash said.

  The prisoners stared at him with open mouths.

  “What’s going on over there?” the nearest guard said, squinting at them from across the fire.

  The prisoners were silent for several seconds before a broad shouldered Skordkin man spoke up. “Nothing, sir. Just getting comfortable.”

  “Be still about it. Useless lump.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The other prisoners followed the man’s lead and shifted so that they shielded Ash from the guards’ view.

  “What are you doing?” the Skordkin whispered.

  “Have you come to free us?” A woman with a bruised face snatched his hands and held them in a steel grip. Tight coils of rope looped around her wrists, which had been rubbed raw, twisting into complicated knots that no one could get out of.

  Ash cleared his throat and sat up. He looped the nearest coil of rope around his wrists so that they’d look tied to a cursory glance. “I’m breaking into the Stronghold.”

  “What?” the woman said, grip tightening. “No. You have to free us!”

  “Whoa, Nila,” the Skordkin said. “Let him catch his breath so we can get to the bottom of this. What’s your name, boy?”

  “Ash.”

  “Right. I’m Calder. This is Nila, Hender, Brund, and Desa,” he said pointing to the four closest prisoners, all of them Skordkin. The other prisoners barely looked their way, apparently uninterested in whatever the Skordkin were doing.

  Ash nodded to each prisoner in turn. He’d never seen so many Skordkin together before.

  “Now, what are you talking about, breaking into the Stronghold?”

  “They took my sister. I’m going to save her.”

  Calder sighed. “I wish that were possible. But those who go into the Stronghold never come out again.”

  “So save us instead!” Nila said. “At least we can be saved.”

  Ash bit his lip and turned away. He would have. On any other day, under any other circumstance, he would have gladly saved the prisoners. He knew he could do it; the five guards would be easy to contain, especially with the roaring fire, but the prisoner caravan was his only chance of getting into the Stronghold undetected. “I’m sorry,” he said. “My sister is still alive and I will save her.”

  Nila’s hands clenched like claws around his arm. “Save us or I swear I’ll tell the guards you’re here.”

  “Give it a rest, Nila,” Calder said. “You’ll do no such thing. He’s just trying to save a loved one, you wouldn’t do any different.”

  Nila slumped, seeming to shrink to half her former size.

  “Don’t feel bad, lad, you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.”

  Ash nodded. “Why are you here?”

  “Didn’t get much choice, did we? They’re always snatching people from the settlements. Funny how they always nab the Skordkin though, isn’t it?”

  “No, I mean why do they take prisoners?”

  Calder shrugged. “They’ve been doing it as far back as my family can remember, and that’s four generations at least. My great grandfather’s brother got taken. The clan gets smaller every year.”

  Ash swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. Whatever the Faceless were doing with so many people, it couldn’t be good.

  “They took my da when I was just a boy,” said Hender. “Curse the bastards. All my ma ever wanted was for me to not go the same way. Now look. If I hadn’t gone to the far field…”

  “Oi! I told you to shut it!” the guard bellowed. “One more word and I’ll come over there and flog the lot of you.”

  Calder gave Ash a significant look and made a show of finding space big enough to lie down. Ash followed his lead and closed his eyes, although he had no intention of sleeping. He was a sitting duck in an enemy camp and he would not be taken by surprise.

  Ash woke to the rope around his wrists tightening. His eyes flew open and he reached a hand toward the fire before he saw that it was Calder hauling him to his feet.

  A guard strode toward them. “Right you useless wastes of space. Today’s the day we hand you off to your new lords and masters. Don’t make me send you off with bruises.” He took up position at the back of the prisoners and brandished a stick with a sharpened tip.

  The line of prisoners shuffled forward, jostling one another as the rope pulled and pushed them in uneven steps.

  Ash kept close to the middle of the bunch, in case the guards recognized him as not belonging. Although, given how little attention they paid the prisoners he suspected there wasn’t much chance of that.

  By mid-morning they’d reached parts of the forest that Ash knew well and when the guards called a stop by the rock with the painted red circle he was ready.

  Four massive wolves sauntered out from between the trees.

  The prisoners drew back, pressing against each other. Those on the outside scrambled to get back while those in the inner ring, including Ash, fought to stay there. Some muttered prayers as others sobbed.

  “The blasted stories are true,” Calder whispered.

  Ash glanced up at the man. “Stories?”

  “The dead wolves.” He refused to say any more.

  One of the guards stepped forward. “Where’s your friend?” he said to the nearest wolf. “The one with the ugly scar?”

  Ash swallowed, hoping the wolves couldn’t smell Scar on him. He’d done everything he could; from scraping himself raw with pine bark to washing himself with freezing clumps of snow until his hands turned blue. He’d even retraced the road until he found a frozen pile of discarded waste from the wagon and had rubbed that into his clothes.

  The next biggest wolf, Claw, locked the guard with a piercing blue stare before turning and padding off into the trees, much as Scar had done before.

  The guard shrugged and gestured the caravan onward. The prisoners tripped and stumbled over each other in their battle to get as far from the wolves as possible.

  Ash allowed himself to be jostled and shoved. It was all fine so long as the wolves didn’t recognize him.

  Hours later the black stone of the fortress appeared through the trees, growing as they drew closer. Most of the prisoners dragged their feet as if to delay the inevitable. Ash tried to get them to move faster without drawing attention to himself. Rae was so close.

  They stopped outside of the main doors and just as the many other times Ash had watched, it screeched as it swung open and three Faceless Monks glided toward them.

  The prisoners drew back, muttering prayers, but the guards and wolves surrounded them, blocking any escape.

  The Faceless Monks handed the guards a bag of coins before gliding back into the gate. The guards turned and hurried away from the black fortress, leaving just the prisoners and wolves standing outside.

  “We can run now,” Nila whispered. “We might make it. It’s just a few wolves.”

  “Dead wolves the size of horses!” Calder hissed. “We don’t stand a chance. Don’t be foolish.”

  “And I suppose you think a
better fate awaits us in there?”

  The wolf at their back growled and nipped at their heels. The prisoners skittered forward, herded like sheep through the imposing gate and into the courtyard beyond.

  Ash passed under the stone arch and a chill surrounded him. It crept into his veins and sucked the energy out of him, leaving him deflated and empty with eyelids too heavy to lift.

  Tall walls of black stone surrounded the courtyard on all sides, with narrow windows looking down on it where archers or channelers could fire down at incoming attackers without being threatened.

  To the left, a metal gate led into a dark room lined with filthy stone flooring and mold-covered walls. The wolves herded them into the prison and the gate clanged shut of its own accord, a heavy bolt thudded home.

  The wolves went out of sight and left the prisoners cowering in a damp room that reeked of rot.

  “You’re right,” Nila said to Calder. “This is much better.”

  Calder glared at her. “At least we’re alive, and as long as we’re alive, there’s a chance.”

  Ash un-looped the rope from around his hands and went to the gate. He peered out into the empty courtyard, but nothing moved. Stairs and walkways led away in all directions and he felt a moment of despair; how could he find Rae in an unfamiliar maze? But the answer was clear before he finished asking the question. He could feel her, almost as strongly as if she’d been standing at his side. All he had to do was follow the feel of her.

  He studied the lock on the gate. A rusted key would fit the hole on the other side and turn a complicated system of gears inside. There was no way he could pick the lock, but if he could manipulate the barrel some other way…

  “What are you doing, newbie?” Calder said.

  Ash glanced over his shoulder at the Skordkin. “Thinking.”

  “Of a way to get out?”

  Ash shrugged.

  Calder sidled closer and spoke in low tones so that only Ash could hear. “While I disagree with Nila that running in plain sight of dead wolves is a good idea, I do want to live through this. I have a family waiting for me back north that I would very much like to see again.”

  Ash sighed. How could he explain that if he let the other prisoners go, it would compromise his own plans? It would bring attention to them and…

  Ash paused, thoughts racing. Maybe it would be best if he let the prisoners escape after all. He looked up at Calder. “I can open the gate, but after that you’re on your own. I have to go my own way to find my sister.”

  Calder nodded, jaw tensed. “You open the gate and get rid of this rope and we’ll hold our own. We’re good fighters.”

  Ash nodded. With his free hands it was easy work untying the heavy rope that held the prisoners together. They nodded their thanks to him while Calder called them into a close circle to discuss strategy.

  Ash went back to studying the lock. It wouldn’t take much energy, but it would take a controlled effort. The one thing he didn’t have, control.

  He buried his left hand in his pocket and felt for Rae’s heat stone. He used its heat to channel kinetic energy into the lock. He closed his eyes and used the energy to feel the shape of the lock, the way the mechanism fitted together. He had to keep pulling himself back, to stop from shoving too much energy in and buckling the gears.

  He took a shaky breath and cleared his mind. He just had to open the door and he’d be one step closer to saving Rae. His grip on the stone tightened and he manipulated the energy so that it pressed on the gears, turning them.

  He repeated the process; deep breath, gentle push, three more times before a loud click echoed from the lock and the door squealed open.

  Ash’s eyes flew wide and he couldn’t help grinning. He’d done it! The most controlled channel he’d ever managed.

  A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. “You’re a channeler?”

  Ash nodded.

  “I should have known,” Calder said with a sigh. He glanced over his shoulder. “Some of the others don’t like it.”

  Ash shrugged. “I opened the door for them. It’s their choice whether they walk through it.”

  A grim smile passed over Calder’s face. “Right you are, lad. Good luck saving your sister.”

  “Good luck getting out.”

  Ash slipped out into the sunlit courtyard.

  63

  Ash edged through the gate and dashed for an overhanging doorway that cast a deep shadow. He stood, heart pounding, back pressed against cold stone. He sensed Rae, above and to his left, but he had no way of knowing what he would encounter between where he stood and there.

  A battle cry sounded and Calder barged out of the small prison, followed by the other prisoners. They ran across the courtyard to the main doors. Three men hauled on the metal cranks that opened them while the others formed a ragged circle facing out, fists clenched. Shadows descended from the surrounding walkways and nearby doors. Faceless Monks in billowing robes streamed toward the prisoners, hands held out.

  The first line of prisoners gasped and flew off the ground, hovering in the air as if they weighed nothing at all. The remaining prisoners retreated and pushed against the door like a tide. It squealed and opened a foot. Prisoners surged for the opening but they were hauled back through the snow by invisible hands and thrown into the air to hang upside down.

  All the prisoners, more than twenty of them, dangled in the air screaming. Their arms flailed and their legs kicked but they stayed floating.

  Ash stood frozen in the shadows, mouth hanging open. Only ten Faceless Monks stood in the courtyard, with no fires and no obvious signs of energy, and yet they were all levitating more than one prisoner each. Ash’s mind boggled. The energy he’d had to pour into lifting a book off a shelf had taken a huge toll, and he’d had an energy source. Where were the Faceless Monks drawing their power from?

  He swallowed, mouth dry. He knew he had to get moving while the Monks were distracted, but his feet felt glued into the snow. Professor Yarrow had warned him that the Monks were powerful; Ash hadn’t realized how right he was.

  Calder cursed at the Monks as they levitated him through the air and back into the small cell. The other prisoners followed, cursing and sobbing.

  Ash drew a breath, it wasn’t his fault they were still trapped, if it weren’t for him they wouldn’t have even had a chance at escape. He couldn’t worry about them; he had to think of Rae. He wrenched his eyes away from the scene and slipped through the door at his back, easing it shut behind him.

  He found himself in a dark corridor. Cold, damp air surrounded him and chilled his lungs, carrying the scent of mold and stale water. He slipped his hand into his pocket and used Rae’s heat stone to warm his flesh and create a tiny glow of light in his other hand. The yellow light spread across black stones covered in moss.

  Ash strode forward, doing his best to keep his footsteps quiet on the hard floor. He had to find stairs, Rae’s presence hovered somewhere above him… so close now.

  Something scuffled in the corridor ahead.

  Ash’s heart jerked and he snapped his palm shut, killing the light in his hand.

  “Bastards are coming again.”

  “I wish they’d just kill us.”

  “Yeah, right. You know that’s not what they do.”

  Ash crept forward, placing each foot in front of the other with care, in case he found stairs or a trap. He continued like that for five more minutes until a change in air pressure on his left warned of the corridor opening up. He stopped and tilted his head to listen. Breathing, multiple people. They sounded scared and sickly, not like Faceless Monks.

  Ash drew the knife from his belt and let light flare back to life in his palm.

  Panicked scuffling accompanied a flurry of movement as ragged people covered in filth fought to get away from the light, pressing themselves in a shivering bunch against the back of a barred cell. Scabs and sores leaked down their legs and their long hair made matted tangles on their heads. They shielded thei
r eyes from Ash’s light and shivered in the cold.

  “Get it over with, you bastard. Don’t just stand there staring at us,” said a husky voice from within the huddle.

  Ash lifted his light higher to reveal the rest of the tiny cell. A trough with the rotten remains of something stood against the bars and fouled straw lined the floor.

  “Who are you?” Ash said.

  Some of the prisoners peaked around their hands to look at Ash.

  “He’s not wearing a hood.”

  “It’s a trick.”

  “Why would they bother tricking us? They’ve got us where they need us.”

  “Then how do you explain him?”

  “Who are you?” Ash said again.

  “What does it look like?” said the same husky voice. This time a man unfurled from the huddle; he crouched, staring at Ash like an animal would an abusive owner. “We’re prisoners.”

  Ash looked left and right, although he couldn’t see far down the corridor in either direction. “How long have you been here?”

  “Too long,” the man said. He loped toward the front of the cell on all fours. “Are you here to free us?”

  Ash stepped away from the bars, out of arm’s reach. “I’m here to find my sister.”

  “I’ll be your sister!” said a woman, scooting forth from the huddle. “You get me out of here and I’ll be anything you want.”

  “Why do the Faceless need prisoners?”

  The male prisoner shrugged. “Energy, of course. For their damn channeling.”

  Ash’s hand trembled. The Faceless used people as sources of energy. But what good were they locked here in the Stronghold? When the Faceless were in every city in every kingdom… He shoved the questions away; they didn’t help him with his main problem of finding Rae.