by Tim Marquitz
“I need you to find this warlock, now.”
The assassin nodded, and turned to leave. Deborah grasped her shoulder before she could leave.
“I know you believe you can slay him, but be cautious. Though Carrance is…” she swallowed and corrected herself, “was…not nearly the warrior you are, you know her skills. If this abomination can kill a witch of the High Council in direct combat and walk away, then he is a threat to all of us. Do not engage him unless you are absolutely certain you can take his life. If you cannot kill him clean, you are to alert me or Gracelin, and we will end him together. Do I make myself clear?”
Shade gave a shallow nod. “I understand.”
“He is, no doubt, in league with Elizabeth’s resistance group. Find them and you will find the abomination, as well.” Deborah met the assassin’s eyes, doing her best to impress her seriousness, and then waved her off.
After she’d gone, Deborah turned to Gracelin, her voice dropping to a breathy whisper. “We have only a short time to bring this to a close before the rest of the Council learns of Carrance’s death and our rogue warlock’s part in it, and then in turn, our own. It serves our interest to remain in the area until he is slain. Stay close to Shade, should she need assistance. I will remain with the Guard and scour the forest.”
“Have you heard from Graves?” Gracelin asked.
Deborah shook her head, feeling her cheeks warm. “I feel the Lord has somehow managed to slip his leash. For all his supposed effort, Emerald still remains lost and Elizabeth is yet alive and free to cause chaos. Were he trying, I’ve no doubt he would have found them by now. The bastard confounds me, and plays at politics, but I do not have time for his petty rebellion. Should you see him, be sure to bring the dog to heel. We could use his arm in the fight to come.”
Gracelin grinned, a semblance of her natural color returning to her face. “I will.” She reached out and took Deborah’s hand in hers. Gracelin gave it a gentle squeeze and pulled away, their hands parting with slow reluctance. “This will be over soon.”
Deborah nodded, unwilling to voice her fear. They said their farewells, and the Green Witch left to follow Shade. Deborah turned to the soldiers.
“Fan out and find the abomination. Whoever brings me the murderer’s head will find the reward to be beyond their greatest imagining.”
The soldiers raised a raucous roar and stormed into the trees. Deborah followed after, wishing she shared their foolish enthusiasm.
Twenty-Two
Beyond the door was another tunnel, the gloom somewhat lifted by a dim, flickering light at the end. Sebastian moved toward it, controlling his every footstep to remain silent. He thought to summon the shadows to conceal his presence, but decided against it. Too weary from the trials of the past few days, he felt it best to reserve what energy he had left should he be forced into a confrontation. Not wanting to fight, he simply wanted to find Jonas or the fat man and learn of the resistance group’s whereabouts so that he might find his father. Fortunately, killing Jonas would hardly sap his strength, at all. He grinned at the thought.
He slowed even further as he heard an almost rhythmic shuffling noise coming from ahead. The sound steady, but not seeming to draw any closer, Sebastian continued on, He hugged the inside wall on the side the glow emanated from and inched forward. After what seemed an eternity, he came upon the edge of the tunnel, a room of uncertain size extending off to the left of it, nothing but a stone wall in front, some fifty feet ahead.
Sebastian crept to the corner and took a surreptitious glance into the room. His heart fluttered at the unexpected sight, and he darted back behind the wall. He waited a moment to let his pulse settle, and then glanced around once more to be certain of what he’d seen.
Against the far wall, there were four metal cages, with thick, steel bars running from floor to ceiling, set side by side. Inside each was a griffin. The beasts shuffled from foot to foot within the confined spaces, each turned so that their heads faced the wall. Their wings were pinned to their sides, unable to extend because of the bars of their cages. Makeshift muzzles were tied about their beaks, the steady huff of their breath loud in the confined space. A humid, foul stench hovered in the air, mixed with the sour scent of excrement.
With nothing living in the room save for the beasts, Sebastian slipped around the corner without worrying about being quiet. He knew the griffins would scent him soon enough, but with them silenced and locked inside the cages he wasn’t worried they’d give him away or do any harm. Their shuffles increased as he moved behind them, but the creatures gave no sign beyond that they had even noticed him. Sebastian smiled. He needed no further complications.
Once in the room, the true scope of it amazed him. On the opposite side of the griffin pens was an immense storage area. Weapons hung from large, iron nails hammered at every hand span into the stone walls: an assortment of axes, spears, maces, and swords of all kinds. Piled on the floor below were jumbled masses of leathered suits of armor, all dyed the crimson of the Red Guard. Like the weapons, the armored suits were in various states of repair, some appearing unused and others as though they’d been through a war or two, most appearing somewhere in between.
At the far end of the room were a number of the wooden transports used by the Guard. Broken down into their elemental pieces, it was hard for Sebastian to determine the exact number, but the stacks of reinforced wood easily stood as tall as he, and likely taller. Beside them sat the steel pins that held the beds together, as well as the reins and tackle equipment that lashed it to the beasts for hauling.
Sebastian recognized more common supplies—rope, grapples, strips of leather, whetstones, waterskins, dried food—as he moved about the room, each stored away in a reasonable semblance of order. There was no question the resistance had been foraging a long time to gather the stores they’d hidden away. It was clear by what they had that Elizabeth intended to take the fight to the witches at one point, exactly as she had said. There was far too much of the Guard’s equipment stashed in the room to think there was no plan behind its use.
He worked his way to the back of the room, where another tunnel led away from the store room. Also dim, but with a light in the distance, Sebastian went into it with caution. Nothing sounding ahead, he moved along with relative confidence. The tunnels carrying distant sounds through their lengths, he felt he would hear the men coming long before they came upon him. As they weren’t expecting anyone inside their sanctuary, Sebastian had no expectation they would bother to hide the noise of their passage. He needed only to be certain to remain quiet, and he would have no problem avoiding anyone he did not wish to encounter.
With no idea as to how far the catacombs extended, his only concern was that he might get lost before he could find one of the resistance men to show him the way out. That would be an embarrassing end to his adventure.
Thinking of the look on his father’s face were that to happen, he edged to the end of the tunnel with a grin upon his face, and peeked around it. Another large room lay beyond, packed tight with rows of wooden cots. At the end of each were small, wooden chests without locks, making it obvious the room was used as a barracks off sorts. At the far end was a closed door. The cots were bare as though they hadn’t been used in some time.
Sebastian started into the room, to examine the chests, when he heard something thump against the door, a sliver of light spilling through the edges as it cracked open. He darted behind the wall as the hinges squealed, and he heard a muttered complaint. The door slammed shut right after. A soft glow cast long shadows into the tunnel, the light shifting back and forth a moment before it settled, a metallic clunk sounding when it did. The rough voice grumbled again and Sebastian recognized it once more.
He peered around the corner and spied Jonas standing beside a small lantern set upon the stone floor. Over his shoulder he lugged the sack the fat man had carried earlier, the telltale red greaves jutting out from the opening. Jonas’s faced was contorted in annoyance,
his lips pulled down to form a ‘U’. The lantern left behind, the old man walked down the center of the barracks, grumbling the entire way, his eyes on the ground. He was headed for the storeroom.
Sebastian shifted his sword to his left hand and readied himself behind the cover of the wall. He could hear Jonas drawing closer, leadened steps stomping hard against the stone floor. As soon as his face was visible, Sebastian lashed out, his fist crashing into Jonas’s nose.
There was a sharp crack and Jonas let out a pained grunt. The bag slipped from his shoulders and he stumbled over it as he fell backward. He landed hard on the stone ground, a spray of blood erupting from his broken nose. Jonas’s eyes swam in their sockets as Sebastian smiled, moving in to straddle the man, the point of his sword pressed against Jonas’s neck.
“Remain quiet or whatever sound you make will be your last,” Sebastian told him in a whisper, his finger to his lips.
Jonas blinked a couple of times, and his eyes at last came to focus on Sebastian. He swallowed against the point of the sword and gave the barest of nods.
Sebastian’s grin grew wider. “You’ve caused me a lot of grief, Jonas, but if you cooperate, you might just live to be a thorn in someone else’s side. Understand?”
Again he nodded shallow. A slick sheen of sweat glistened across his forehead.
“Where are your friends?”
“In the dining hall, on the other side of the caverns.” His words were wet sputters, the blood from his nose running down the back of his throat.
“Good. Now tell me where Elizabeth is camped.”
Jonas’s eyes narrowed and he breathed out hard, crimson bubbles forming at his nose. “I—”
“As much as I want to put my blade to you for what you did back in Deliton, I have no issues with the witch, and I intend your people no harm. I only wish to find my father who was headed to your camp.” He leaned in closer, giving the point of his sword the slightest emphasis. “Lead me there and you walk away with all your limbs still attached.”
The man didn’t hesitate. “I’m yours.”
Sebastian stared at him a moment and then nodded, stepping to the side to allow the man to get to his feet. Jonas got up slow, his hands out to show he intended nothing rash.
“You’ve seen me fight, Jonas, and you know what I’m capable of.” He reached out and tapped the healed scar on the man’s arm where Sebastian had cut him. “Stay true to your word,” Sebastian told him, feeling the need to reinforce the man’s compliance.
“I understand, boy, no need to bluster.”
Sebastian poked the point of his sword toward Jonas and motioned toward the tunnel with his eyes. Jonas flinched to avoid it and started forward. He’d felt its bite and it was clear he wanted nothing more to do with it.
They moved slowly through the corridor, Sebastian listening ahead to see if Jonas had been lying about the location of his companions. He heard only the sounds of the caged griffins, the restless scuff of their paws on the stone floor.
Staying close behind Jonas, once they’d reached the pens, Sebastian whispered, “What’s with all the Red Guard equipment?”
Jonas glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “I don’t know. The witch has been collecting it for years, but she hasn’t shared her plans with me. I’m just an errand boy.”
“Is that why you tried to burn us out, so your master would pay more attention?” Sebastian pressed his sword against Jonas’s spine.
The man stiffened, but didn’t stop walking. He nodded. “I figured if you thought the Red Guard had tried to roust you, you might be more willing to take the fight to them. The witch would have looked favorably on the man who recruited you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you or your pa.”
“Only your friends, right?”
He shrugged. “That wasn’t my aim either, but we’re fighting a war. Men die every day.”
Sebastian shook his head and swallowed a laugh. Jonas had shown his true colors; he was a mercenary at heart. While that might not be a respectable trait for a soldier, or a trait you wanted in a man you had to trust, his lack of loyalty to anyone but himself was exactly what Sebastian was counting on. There was no betrayal in Jonas’s world, only individual arrangements that kept him alive a little longer. Sebastian could be certain he would be compliant for as long as no opportunity arose to offer him a better option.
There would be problems once they reached the resistance camp, the threat of Elizabeth likely to eclipse his own in Jonas’s estimation. Until then, though, the man was bought and paid for as long as he thought death would be his reward for changing sides.
That suited Sebastian fine. He only needed a guide to the camp. If Jonas gave him cause to kill him then, it would only be fate signaling it was the right thing to do. Sebastian chuckled low in his throat and patted Jonas on the shoulder.
“Lead on, my faithful companion.”
Twenty-Three
Free of the false wall, Jonas leading the way, and out into the woods once more, Sebastian settled in behind the resistance man. He gave him just enough room to be sure he wouldn’t be caught off guard should he rebel, yet stayed close enough to put him down. As Sebastian presumed, Jonas did nothing to put himself at risk. He remained silent as they slipped from the caverns and away from his companions, never once even bothering to glance back. All of Jonas’s movements were exaggerated and obvious; he made no move that could be seen as aggressive, even keeping his hands to his sides and in plain view.
Tired and battered, Sebastian found he had a hard time keeping his focus on the man. Without the threat of danger or betrayal, there was nothing to spark the adrenaline in his system to keep him on task. He found himself drifting, his thoughts wandering through his memories of the Red Witch and his first meeting with Elizabeth, and especially the orgy at the resistance camp. Though he suspected what the witch intended, Sebastian little more than a puppet in her machinations, he couldn’t help but imagine himself within the circle of women, all there to please him. For all its collective attachment and expectation, it was an alluring thought; one he had a hard time dismissing.
While he was looking at Jonas’s back, the streaks of his graying hair swaying before him as he made his way through the trees, it was the circle he was really seeing. He could imagine the glistening flesh of the young women, the fine sheen of sweat layered across their bodies as they took turns with the warlocks. Their smiles were bright in his mind, their laughs ringing out happily in his ears. He could even smell the fire as it crackled alongside, the scent of smoke and brimstone…
His eyes went wide as his mind snapped back to reality. He ducked and rolled away as a scythe of fire cleaved the air just above his head. His side screamed, but the wash of adrenaline numbed it almost instantly. He hopped to his feet at the apex of his tumble, turning to face the direction the attack had come from. When he spied the young warlock who had been in the caverns, he slipped behind a tree for cover, cursing himself.
“Run, Jonas,” John shouted. The old man wasted no time in listening. The warlock gave Sebastian a grim smile. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice you abducting one of our men?”
Sebastian had hoped exactly that. He sighed, realizing his exhaustion led to him being blind to the foolishness of his actions, not even realizing the warlock has snuck up on him. He knew his father would never have been so careless.
“Stand aside, brother. I have no intention of harming Jonas. I seek only to find my way back to your camp.”
“So you can lead the Council to us?” John shook his head. “It has not escaped our notice that the Red Witch and her pets arrived only after you and your father were brought among us.”
Sebastian smiled grim. “That witch will never bother anyone, ever again. I’ve seen to that, so you can forget your foolish notions of me or my father being in league with the Council.”
John laughed as his own smile grew broad. “You expect me to believe you’ve slain the Red Witch? If so, it is you who’s the fool.”
&
nbsp; A ball of red flames coalesced in his hand, and John hurled it without hesitation. Sebastian dove away, knowing he would regret the landing, as the flames engulfed the tree he’d just stood behind. He hit the ground with a grunt, forcing his mind to shut out the pain so he could continue on. He managed barely that. His adrenaline was already fading.
On his feet once more, Sebastian wound his way through the maze of tree trunks and shrubs, looking to circle back on the warlock. John made it easy. He barreled straight ahead casting off searing balls of fire in every direction, setting the woods ablaze. Even if he didn’t manage to hit Sebastian, it wouldn’t be long before the blaze would become a beacon to every Red Guard soldier in the area, each of whom would be more than willing to finish the job the resistance warlock had started. Sebastian knew the longer the confrontation dragged on, the less likely he was to make it out of it alive.
Less than pleased with having to face down another magic-wielding foe so soon after the Red Witch, he understood he couldn’t sit at range. He was too tired to draw upon a respectable shield to defend against the magical assault. That left him few options: charge, flee, or stand his ground and die.
He groaned aloud, his head choosing the second option, his body standing in defiance by choosing the first. He ducked around and ran back toward the flames that licked wild at the forest. The smoke roiled black and filled the woods with shifting shadows. Sebastian knew his best chance lie in the flickering distortion of the fire, so he headed into the thick of it. Waves of heat washed over him and he was reminded of the Red Witch’s assault. He wondered if there was a deeper well of power within him, though he doubted he had the fortitude to seek it out even if there were. His every step was leaden, and he could feel himself slowing down.
Another burst of fire erupted beside him, but he just kept running, the heat of its near-miss stinging his arm. With John closing, he didn’t have much time left. He darted into the swirling smoke and dug for the remnants of his energy. Suddenly nauseous, he dropped to a squat and fought past it, willing his magic to the fore. It came but with great reluctance. He wasn’t sure it was enough.
