There was a commotion at the top of the ladder and Jared looked up. The first members of the Hundred began descending the ladder, which spurred him to action. He motioned for Atock and Warren to follow. He stopped beside the countess, who was once again staring at the dead guard. “Countess?” he said cautiously. She looked up, but her face looked blank. “Countess?” he repeated.
Hannah shook herself and blinked several times at Jared. “Yes?”
“Are you ready?” Jared asked.
She looked around, seeming to notice for the first time that Atock and Warren were here, and that several the others were starting to come through the trap door. She nodded at Jared. “Are you leading?”
He nodded. “Where are the next set of guards?”
She frowned at him. They had gone over this multiple times in her cell, but she knew he kept asking the questions to see if her answers changed. “The next guards were outside the high priest’s door.”
Jared frowned. For some reason he had hoped she would tell him something different this time. At least then he would have been justified in killing her. “All right, follow me.” Just before he turned he shot a look at Atock.
Atock grinned, fairly sure he knew what the look meant. Watch the countess!
Jared led the other three through the tunnel at a quick jog. The tunnel was well lit, and that would make it easier to spot any guards, but just as Hannah had said, they did not come across any more. At the end of the tunnel was a ladder that stretched upwards, farther than they could see.
Jared barely slowed as they approached the ladder, but immediately began climbing. Hannah came next, mumbling about having to make this climb twice in one night. Atock was next, followed by Warren.
The climb went smoothly, but perhaps a bit slower than the men would have liked. Hannah had already made this climb once; exhaustion was threatening to overtake her.
At long last they reached the top of the ladder, and the small door off to the side. Jared opened the door, glanced around the darkness beyond, then stepped into the small room. His eyes sought and found the small holes that Hannah had mentioned and he hurried to them without waiting for the others to get into the room.
Glancing through the small holes, Jared observed the small sitting room, just as Hannah had described, with one exception. She had seen three guards, two at the door and one at the desk, but now only the two on either side of the door remained. It made sense. Dawn was only an hour or two away, and most likely the guard was in his bed. That made things even easier for them, now they only had two guards to kill.
He turned back just as Warren stepped off the ladder and made to close the door. Jared held his hand up and whispered, “Wait! Leave it open for my men.”
Warren nodded and his hand dropped to his side.
Atock moved closer and held up three fingers. His meaning was obvious, Only three guards?
Jared smiled and held up two fingers.
Atock returned the smile and moved around the spymaster to see for himself. There were only two guards but they were a good fifteen feet away from the secret door. He had no doubt in his mind that they could kill the two men, the trick was to do it silently. For a rare change, he found himself wishing one of the sorcerers or magicians were here.
Jared leaned close and whispered in Atock’s ear. “I can take one from here.”
Atock gave the man a questioning look and in answer Jared held up the small wooden tube. In spite of himself, Atock was impressed. If Jared could truly shoot that little dart across fifteen feet to strike his opponent, and through a small hole in the wall no less, than the spymaster was more dangerous than he had suspected.
Atock glanced back at the guards. If Jared took one out, that still left the second. He could not imagine any way in which he or Warren could get to the second man before he could raise the alarm. He was still looking through the hole when he felt someone move up close to him again.
“I can take the other guard.”
It was Hannah’s voice in his ear and Atock jerked in surprise. He had not been expecting a female’s voice at all. He turned around and noticed a strange, almost hungry look in her eyes. “You can?”
She smiled and, beginning at her throat, undid the buttons down the front of her dress, stopping much lower than Atock expected her to. She pulled the top of her dress open a bit to expose so much cleavage to almost be indecent. It appeared that if she exhaled too deeply, then her breasts might pop free. “I need a knife.”
Atock pulled his eyes away from her bosom and noticed her smiling at him. For the first time he began to see what Flare had seen in the woman. He glanced to Jared, who simply shrugged in response. Atock motioned over his shoulder, and Hannah leaned against the wall to look. “Which one do you want?” he asked in her ear.
Hannah continued to look through the hole for a moment, and then straightened up. “I’ll take the one on the left. He is more handsome.”
Hannah’s reason for picking the man she was to kill was strangely disturbing, but Atock just shrugged.
Jared stepped closer and whispered, “Fine, but make sure you stay out of my way. I need a clear path to be able to hit the guard.”
Hannah winked and held out her hand.
Sighing deeply, Atock handed her a knife.
It took a few moments for Jared to line up his dart with the guard on the right, but he finally sighed and nodded to the other three. Atock and Warren moved farther into the shadows behind Jared. Hannah checked her knife, which she had hidden in the folds of her dress, and she cast one glance back at the three men and opened the door. She slipped out and quickly pulled the door shut behind her.
The two guards noticed her at once, both of them tensing up.
Hannah smiled a reassuring smile and took a deep breath, causing her bosom to swell. She wasn’t sure, but she thought these were the same two guards from earlier. She walked toward them rather slowly.
The guard on the left took a step toward and his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. “Halt!”
She stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and sighed an exaggerated sigh. “I’m Countess Lells. I was here an hour or so ago with Duke Wellis.”
The guard nodded. “I know who you are. Why are you here now?”
“I have more information that is vitally important to get to the high priest,” Hannah said. She began her slow walk again.
The guard shook his head. “I am sorry, but he is in his chambers.”
Hannah nodded her head. She waved her hand in the general direction of the desk. “Where is the secretary, or whatever he is?”
Both guards seemed to relax a bit. The one on the left shook his head. “He retired to his chambers as well. There are several who handle those tasks and another one will be there at sunrise.”
Hannah moved closer, and the young man’s eyes dropped from her face to her bosom. “I need to see someone sooner than that,” she said.
The guard seemed to have momentarily lost his ability to hear, and he stared at her chest for several heartbeats. Finally, he shook himself and his eyes moved up to meet hers. He realized what he had been doing, and his face blushed red. His face was still glowing when Hannah struck.
Her left hand was in the folds of her dress, and she yanked out the hidden knife and swung at the guard on her left. She slashed the knife horizontally at the man’s throat. If the blow had landed, it would have cut the man almost to his spine. Unfortunately, the blow did not land, or not in the way she had intended.
Undoubtedly the guard was caught by surprise, but his training, or perhaps just his reflexes, allowed him to jerk his head to the left and back. The knife ripped a nasty cut on the right side of the man’s throat, but the blow was not fatal.
The guard jumped backwards a step and his eyes were wide as he stared at Hannah. His right hand rose to cover the wound on his neck, but the blood quickly flowed through his fingers. He took another step back and glanced sideways at the other guard.
The guard
on the right was still standing, but his eyes were glazed. After a moment, the guard’s knees gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. Jared, at least, had not missed his target.
The guard turned back to Hannah with fear in his eyes. She was prepared to kill this guard, but she had not planned on what to do if her first strike failed.
The secret door popped open again, and the movement snapped the guard out of his paralysis. He sucked in air and opened his mouth to scream and raise the alarm. That was when Hannah acted. She was unsure of exactly what she should do, but she knew she was probably dead if he managed to raise the alarm. She threw herself at the guard and hit him in the mid-section.
The blow was not serious and the guard wore chain mail, so it probably hurt Hannah more than him. However, the force of the impact drove the man backwards into the wall, driving the air out of him.
He gasped from the impact and shoved Hannah away. Then once again he opened his mouth to raise the alarm. He never got that shout out.
A knife spun end over end, hitting the guard in the face. The point of the knife ripped a gash in the man’s cheek, but this damage also was not fatal, just painful. It was also distracting. Once again, the man’s attempt to raise the alarm failed. He glanced at the secret door, where two men were now visible. A man with dark hair and skin had the thrown the knife and he had a second one ready to go. Also a black man was sprinting toward him with two short swords at the ready. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword but he immediately jerked it away again.
Hannah saw the man reach for his sword and her reaction was instantaneous. She jabbed the guard’s hand with the knife that was still in her left hand.
The guard jerked his hand away from the sword and kicked the woman away. That was when Atock joined the fight.
The guard had his back against the wall and could not move either left or right. Being unable to draw his sword left him defenseless. His eyes widened and, for the third time, he opened his mouth to scream.
Atock whipped the sword in his right hand across the man’s throat, effectively ending the threat of a scream.
The guard’s decapitated body stood there for a moment like it didn’t know he was dead, and then it slowly toppled over.
Chapter 29
Atock reached down and pulled Hannah to her feet. Against his will, he was impressed with her actions. He had expected the woman to betray them or, at the least, to be of little help. His eyes sought out the body of the guard she had tried to kill. She had failed to kill the guard, but she had given it a valiant effort. He shook his head. Sometimes, it was hard to know who the enemy was.
“Are you hurt?” Atock asked Hannah. She simply shook her head in reply, even as she began massaging her side where the guard had kicked her away. Well, she was standing and appeared to be moving without too much pain, so Atock decided any injury she had received was mild.
Jared joined them and held his finger to his mouth.
Atock scowled a bit at the spymaster. He hadn’t been that loud. Surely no one on the other side of the door could have heard them.
Moments later, Warren joined them. He had gone to the other door, opened it, and surveyed the hall. He was smiling as he approached. “It’s empty,” he whispered.
Jared nodded and looked to be about to say something. He was distracted by the sudden appearance of Armon. Jared’s lieutenant cautiously peered out the open secret door and moved over to the small group. Some of Jared’s other men could be seen in the small room on the other side of the trap door. They waited patiently there with their eyes on Jared.
“Sir,” Armon said quietly, “shall we begin?”
“Begin what?” Atock asked. This time he remembered to keep his voice down.
Ignoring Atock’s question, Jared shook his head. “No. The men can come up the ladder, but keep them in this room.”
Armon saluted, and then returned to the secret door.
“What was that about?” Atock asked. He did not like being ignored.
Jared regarded Atock in something akin to exasperation. He pointed to the door and whispered, “Later.”
Atock rolled his eyes and grabbed the foot of the guard he had killed. The man had fallen across the door and his blood was creating a small pool that covered the ground just to the left of the door. Atock dragged the body aside and dropped it.
A cautious, hesitant smile spread across Jared’s face as he stepped through the blood and opened the door.
The room beyond was dim, but not entirely dark. A small candle sat on the desk; its flickering light made the shadows jump and dance, giving the illusion of movement.
Jared entered quickly but quietly. Atock and Warren came through right on the spymaster’s heels, their swords at the ready. They scanned the room, taking in the desk and the unoccupied chairs. Jared inspected the backs of the curtains carefully, but no one was behind them.
They barely paid any attention to the bookshelves, except for one about halfway down on the left side of the room. The right side of this bookshelf was on a hinge of some kind and it had been rotated away from the wall; behind the bookshelf was another closed door.
Atock looked questioningly at Jared. The spymaster clasped his hands together and rested his head against his hands, pretending to be asleep. His meaning was clear: Bedchamber!
They followed Jared to the door and he quietly tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He bent over and inspected the door, and for one horrifying moment, he thought it might be barred. He breathed a long but quiet sigh when he realized it was just locked. He knelt down and began to silently work on the lock. It took several moments, but finally there was a nearly inaudible click.
Jared straightened up and placed his hand on the knob. He paused only long enough to look at Warren and Atock, and then to place his finger against his lips again.
Dalin Olliston lay in his bed, dozing. He rarely slept long or hard anymore, but he viewed it as part of one of the last great tests of his life. He had been in his early fifties when the gathering of archbishops had selected him to be the new high priest and that had been over thirty years ago. His body was tired and worn out and he would have gladly welcomed death, up until Flaranthlas Eldanari had come to Telur. He had viewed the elven prince with suspicion and distrust; it would seem he had been correct. The single most important thing to him now was to make sure that Flaranthlas failed in his bid to restore the Dragon Order. Even though part of him wanted to die, to be at peace, he had sworn that he would not die before Flaranthlas.
He did not believe that the elven bastard would restore the order. It was impossible. Adel would not allow it. The god would protect them; he had to.
Dalin also did not believe in a strict interpretation of Kelcer. He believed that the restoration of the order would be horrendous, as the order was an abomination to both man and god, but he did not think Kelcer was divinely inspired. Instead, the madman had been a convenient tool to further the goals of the church. Such a belief could never be uttered aloud, as it would surely lead to his removal as high priest, perhaps it would even lead to his death. So many of his brethren did believe in Kelcer, but at least this nonsense should be done away with soon.
His eyes flittered open in the darkness of his bedchamber and he grunted, momentarily wondering what had disturbed him. These days it seemed he would wake if the wind blew. He sighed, rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes again. His body even found the soft pallet that he slept upon unpleasant.
A floorboard creaked to his left, and Dalin opened his eyes again, curious. Only his steward would be allowed in his room, and only at times of grave emergencies. His steward would knock before entering. No one ever shook the high priest awake; it just was not done.
The room was dark, and his eyesight had never been the greatest, even when he was young, but he had been in bed for nearly an hour and his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. It took a moment but he made out the form of a man stepping up beside his bed. “What?” he asked and sat up. Mome
ntarily hope burst through him. Perhaps Angaria’s information had already proven useful.
The man jumped forward and slapped a hand down over his mouth.
For a heartbeat, Dalin sat there, staring up in amazement. If one did not shake the high priest awake, one most certainly did not cover the high priest’s mouth.
Dalin reached an old bony hand up to push the man’s arm away, but he froze. The man in the shadows was covering Dalin’s mouth with his left hand, and his right hand now held a knife to his throat.
The two continued to sit there for several moments, and Dalin alternated between amazement and fear. It would seem that he was not so eager to die after all.
Another shadow moved at the end of his bed, and Dalin’s eyes tracked a second man moving around the bed and coming up on his right. He could see both men, but he couldn’t distinguish much about their features. The second man drew close, and he placed his hand over Dalin’s mouth just as the other man let go. Dalin could feel the strength in this man’s arms, and he was yanked to the side of the bed. His feet hit the floor, and he would have fallen, but the man holding him used his free hand to support him.
The old man was pushed and he began to walk. His mouth was still covered, and he believed that this monster of a man would have just carried him; it was more dignified to accede to the wishes of these men for the moment.
His first thought was that he was being led out of his chambers by the main door. That thought caused a brief and panicky fear to race through him. Had the archbishops grown tired of his failures with Flaranthlas? Was he being marched to his death? He swallowed hard in fear, but then blinked in confusion as his kidnapper steered him, not to the main entrance, but rather toward the door that led to his study.
Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series Page 28
