by James Wisher
“You!” Master Shen sent a blast of raw soul force down the hall, barely missing Jen, and sending the enemy sorcerer hurtling back into the far wall. He raced after her and explosions followed a moment later.
Jen grimaced. This was getting out of hand fast. She grabbed Edward as he passed. “I don’t care if you have to carry them, but we need to speed this up. If we don’t hurry, those two will bring this dump down on our heads. Spread the word.”
A crash sounded from upstairs and shattered boards rained down into the pit. Come on, Master, fight her in the air, away from the building. A bald, broad-shouldered gang member with black fire burning in his eyes leapt up onto the catwalk. He carried a four-foot-long double-bitted ax and was running toward Jen.
She drew her sword and forgot all about the dueling sorcerers.
Jen met her opponent at the doorway. She had to keep him out of the cell block. He swung the broad-bladed ax with all his might. Jen hopped back. The ax tore a two-foot chunk out of the doorway.
She lunged, hoping to finish him before he recovered. Somehow the man batted her attack aside with the haft of his ax.
Jen recovered and blocked his back cut. This guy moved every bit as fast as the other bunch they’d fought. She slashed high, low, high. He blocked every attack. Jen repeated the series with the same result, a lot of noise and no blood.
Her sword went high then low again. The thug raised his ax, anticipating her high slash. Just as she’d hoped.
Jen spun and cut low again. Soul-forged steel sliced through the flesh of his thigh, taking the unfortunate man’s leg off above the knee. Jen kicked him in the chest. He flew over the edge down into the pit.
She walked to the railing and leaned over. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship the thugs rushed down a hole in the floor. Jen leapt over the rail. Maybe she could capture a couple of them.
Two rushed her, short swords drawn. They lacked the black flames and she cut them down in seconds. Those seconds proved expensive. The door to the secret passage swung shut and a lock engaged. She stomped on it, but the thick metal lid didn’t budge.
“Damn it!”
She could do nothing about the escaping thugs so Jen turned her attention to the bound and bleeding prisoners. She sheathed her sword and grabbed a fallen knife. An emaciated man flinched at her approach.
Jen cut his hand free. “Easy, I’m here to help.”
She freed the second hand and he slumped against her. “Heaven bless you, girl.” He gasped the words out like it took the last of his strength.
Edward landed beside her and took the unconscious man out of her arms. Another blast shook the building. It sounded farther away. Maybe Master Shen realized he was about to collapse the place on them.
Jen moved on to the next victim. It took her team two minutes to free all twelve prisoners and carry them up and out of the pit. Jen paused as Rhys carried the last woman up the iron steps. The black disk on the ceiling shimmered like water and a drop of darkness fell into the bowl.
Jen grimaced and kicked it over. The nasty stuff oozed across the floor, sizzling and burning stone. She shuddered. What could they use that crud for?
Maybe she didn’t want to know. Jen leapt up to the catwalk and followed Rhys out the hole in the wall. Above them streaks of energy lit the sky. She couldn’t tell who was winning.
“Did we get everybody?” Talon asked.
“All the prisoners, but some of the gang escaped.” Not a perfect victory, but when she looked at the huddled figures shivering in the snow Jen figured maybe it was close enough. “Let’s take these people somewhere warm.”
An explosion shook the night and Master Shen fell from the sky. Jen leapt and caught him eight feet from the ground. They landed close to the hole he’d cut in the wall. “You hurt?”
He grunted and looked up. Jen followed his gaze. Hovering above them, an armored figure sat astride a black horse with glowing red eyes and flames around its feet and tail. The knight wore a great sword strapped to his back and a full helm shaped like a leering demon that hid his face. Inscribed on his breastplate was a huge, horned skull.
Beside him the sorcerer floated, a little pout on her pixie face. “You spoiled my fun, Mikhail.”
Mikhail!
This was the missing Santen heir?
“Don’t call me that!” Mikhail said. “Mikhail Santen is dead. I am Sir Darkness, a demon knight.”
The sorcerer grimaced. “I am not calling you Sir Darkness, Mikhail, or anything equally pretentious.”
Black flames gathered around his bare hands. “You dare question my commands?”
Jen hoped they’d kill each other and save her a lot of work, but the sorcerer raised her hands. “Of course not, my lord. Hey, how about that? ‘My lord’ would be a good thing to call you.”
He nodded once and the flames vanished. “It will do.”
“Hey!” Jen shouted. “Where’s your father?”
Mikhail turned his attention to her and a chill ran through Jen. His eyes were pits of fire. “Dead. I cut his heart out and his blood fueled my ascension to greatness. I’ll never again have to listen to his prattle about obedience and following the rules. I make the rules now.”
His gaze shifted. “I wondered what became of those.” He held out his bare hands and the gauntlets on Talon’s belt flew up and slid over them. He flexed his fingers. “Now die, worms.”
A black ball of crackling energy formed in the air in front of him.
Jen grabbed Master Shen and ran back to the others.
The sphere shot toward the alley. Master Shen raised a golden barrier.
White snow and black energy washed over them. Jen braced the slender sorcerer.
The assault lasted only moments. When the snow settled, all that remained of the Unkindness’s base was a smoking crater. Master Shen slumped in her arms and his barrier vanished.
Jen eased him to the ground. “Everybody okay?”
Her squad all indicated that they were, even the prisoners survived the attack. Jen studied the sky. No sign of the sorcerer or Mikhail, thank heaven.
Master Shen groaned and sat up. Jen helped him to his feet. He wobbled, but stayed upright. “Are you all right, Master?”
He nodded. “Some of the corruption penetrated my shield. It would have been unpleasant if I was in peak condition. As I am now it stunned me. Is everyone safe?”
“Yes, you did it.”
“Good.” He turned toward the smoking crater. “It’s a good thing we were only on the edge of the blast. If his aim had been better…”
“I have a lot of questions, Master Shen.”
He smiled and patted her shoulder. “I’m sure. I have my share as well, but they’ll all keep until we reach somewhere warm.”
Chapter 20
“I thought I told you to keep the breakage to a minimum.” Captain Tosh sat behind his desk. A vein in his forehead throbbed in time with his heart. “Do you call blowing up a building in the docks minimal breakage?”
Jen and Master Shen sat across from him. They’d retreated to Jen’s inn long enough to change clothes before leading the victims to watch headquarters. Some kid fresh out of training had been dispatched to fetch the captain. He’d arrived ten minutes later, shirt half tucked in and hair uncombed. Jen managed not to laugh.
The former prisoners were downstairs getting looked at by the healers. The rest of the squad had stayed with them to offer what reassurance they could. That left Jen and Master Shen to handle the inevitable explanations. She would have preferred to fight a dozen thugs.
“I didn’t destroy the building. I rescued the prisoners and their jailor didn’t appreciate it.”
Tosh ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “Just walk me through it. Start with what happened after we parted ways.”
Jen paused to gather her thoughts and try to figure out how to tell the story without revealing the secret spying operation, but couldn’t see any way around it.
“I told Jennifer to look up a
n old friend of mine if anything happened,” Master Shen said, saving her the trouble of making up a story. “Mariela told her about my efforts to investigate the Unkindness so she tracked them down and freed me along with the other prisoners. Mikhail Santen murdered his father to gain demonic powers which he used to destroy the building in an attempt to murder us. He fled with a female accomplice. Where they are now we have no idea.”
“A handful of the gang escaped under the building, I assume into the sewers,” Jen said.
“That’s it? That’s your whole explanation?” Tosh stared at them.
Jen shrugged. “That’s what happened. It hasn’t even been a full day since we left the villa. What more do you want?”
Tosh waved a hand. He looked exhausted. “Nothing. I don’t want a thing. I trust you’re finished with your investigation and will be leaving my city soon.”
“Tomorrow morning,” Master Shen said. “I need sleep and food before I’ll have strength enough to transport us to the capital.”
“Fine, just don’t blow up anything before you leave.”
Jen opened her mouth to protest, but Master Shen laid a restraining hand on her wrist. They took their leave of the weary captain, collected her men along with many thanks from the former prisoners, and headed to Jen’s inn. She had a ton of questions, but when she started to ask, Master Shen shook his head.
They stopped outside the inn. The sun was just coloring the horizon. “Order some breakfast and wait for me in your room,” Master Shen said. “I’m going to collect Mariela. I’ll be back soon.”
He leapt into the air and faded from view. Jen shook her head and led the way in. The smell of fresh bread washed over her and her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in a full day. A serving girl bustled around the common room, wiping tables and straightening chairs. It wouldn’t be long before the other guests came down to eat.
Jen waved her over and ordered a large breakfast to be sent up to her room. She flipped the girl a gold royal and went upstairs. Fifteen minutes later a tapping sounded on her window. She saw nothing, but opened it anyway. Something brushed against her and a moment later Master Shen shimmered into view, Mariela held in his arms.
He laid the scholar on Jen’s bed and sat on the edge. The woman looked better. The last of the dead skin had flaked off and her hair had grown back, only an inch long, but still. Six healing potions could work wonders.
A knock sounded on the door. Outside two serving girls held trays laden with food. Edward and Alec collected the trays and closed the door. Master Shen waved his hand and nodded. “We can speak now. I’ve blocked all sound from leaving the room.”
Jen fixed an egg-and-bacon sandwich and leaned against the wall. “So what was that black disk in the ceiling above the torture room?”
“A hell gate. A small one, thank heaven. Someone opened it for them and they fed it blood to get demon essence.”
“You mean that black stuff?” Jen finished her sandwich and moved on to the pastries. “It looked like a lot more blood went in than black stuff came out.”
Mariela sat up. “It runs about a gallon of blood to a quarter ounce of essence.”
“What do they do with it?” Alec asked around a mouthful of ham.
“You saw the ones with the black flames?” Master Shen asked.
They all nodded. “What are they anyway, the flames?” Talon asked.
“For the gang members the flames were simply a visible manifestation of the demonic power running through their bodies. They represent the flames of hell. For a warlock or a demon the flames are the shape their corrupt soul force takes unless they chose to transform it into something else. The gang used the essence to ink their tattoos a second time. When they shed their blood it triggered the power which took the shape of the black flames. What you missed was the aftermath. Normal humans aren’t equipped to handle that much soul force, much less corrupt, demonic soul force. Most of them would have dropped dead the instant the power dried up.”
“Mikhail didn’t seem to have much trouble,” Jen said.
Master Shen frowned. “He’s a different matter altogether. Mikhail bonded his soul to a demon, most likely that ugly flying horse he was riding. It allows him to draw on the demon’s power, but when he dies the demon consumes his soul and grows stronger.”
“Seems a little short sighted,” Rhys said.
“Usually, but demon binding grants immortality as well, so as long as no one kills him the demon doesn’t get his soul. If the binding was done correctly it can’t betray him either.”
“So what happens now?” Jen asked.
“Eat, sleep, and tomorrow we fly back to the capital where I report to the archmage then I’ll fly you back to The Citadel to report to your father.”
Jen sighed. This was one mission she didn’t regret finishing.
Chapter 21
A little after noon the first supply station came into view. It jutted up out of the snow several hundred yards ahead of them. Damien had never felt so glad to see a building, even a slumping, three-room shack like the station, in his life. Eight days of riding and sleeping in a tiny, two-person tent with a woman that barely tolerated him left him eager for a bed and someone, anyone, else to talk to. A bath wouldn’t hurt either of them as well.
Behind the station a fenced-in paddock and modest stable housed about ten horses. Army patrols stopped at the station to swap injured mounts and tend to tack and shoes. No soldiers manned the place, only a farrier, stable master, and their apprentices. It struck Damien as a peaceful if tedious post.
They rode around to the paddock. From the stable a middle-aged man with a beard wearing a heavy fur-lined jacket ambled out to meet them. “Can I help you?”
“We need fresh mounts and supplies,” Lane said.
“Yeah, and you are?”
She frowned and fished around in her furs. After a moment of hunting she pulled out a badge and pointed it at him like it was a crossbow. “Lane Thorn, diplomatic corps. This is my bodyguard.”
No introduction for him. Damien tapped his forehead in a two-fingered salute. “Damien St. Cloud, pleasure.”
The stable master studied the badge a moment then nodded. “Looks official. You two staying the night?”
“Yes.” Damien didn’t give Lane a chance to speak. “Please tell me you have a tub in this place.”
He glowered at Damien. “Of course. Just because we’re in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean we live like savages. Leave the horses and mule to me and the boys and head on in. Nigel can show you where everything is.”
Damien swung down and grabbed his rucksack. Lane joined him, pausing to collect the smallest of her bags from the back of the mule. They trudged through a foot of snow to the back door of the station. An iron ring served as door knob and Damien pulled it open. He went through first like a proper bodyguard.
The main room had a big, potbellied iron stove in the center that threw off a pleasant heat, its chimney running up through the roof. Four chairs sat around a rough-hewn dinner table. Two closed doors, one straight ahead and a second to his right, led to other rooms. Not exactly luxury, but it would do.
Lane came in behind him. “What a dump.”
The door straight ahead opened and a bald man wearing a leather apron stepped into the room, a crossbow at his shoulder ready to fire. “Who the hell are you?”
Damien was halfway across the room before he finished the question. Damien leapt onto the table, gathered himself, and leapt again.
His heel crashed into the man’s crossbow. It clattered to the floor.
Damien grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him into the wall. “Nigel?”
Nigel croaked something then settled for nodding.
“I’m Damien, that’s Lane. We’ll be spending the night tonight. The stable master said you could show us where everything is. If I let you go you’re not going to go for that crossbow, right?”
A red-faced Nigel shook his head.
“Good.” Damien released him and stepped back. “Crossbows make me nervous.”
Nigel coughed and rubbed his throat. “You didn’t look nervous. Who are you again?”
Lane flashed the badge a second time. “Diplomatic corps. You must forgive my bodyguard. He can be over protective.”
Nigel coughed again. “You don’t say.”
Damien bent down, removed the bolt from the crossbow, and uncocked it. “Here. Be careful, you could hurt someone with that thing.”
Nigel managed a hoarse laugh. “Yeah, like myself. Dinner’s a few hours away. Want me to set up the tub?”
“Yes!” he and Lane said at the same time.
The second door led to a supply room with an open space for the heavy iron tub. They melted snow on the stove to fill it. The whole process took half an hour. It would have taken double that, but Damien sped up the project with a little subtle sorcery.
Of course, Lane went first. She went in and slammed the door. A moment later it opened again. “I’d better not catch you peeking.”
“Can I peek as long as you don’t catch me?”
Lane slammed the door again. He took that as a no. Damien had only been half joking about peeking. Lane was a beautiful woman if you looked past her personality. He wouldn’t have minded a closer view of those long legs. He sighed. The look wasn’t worth the argument. Anyway he had more pressing matters to attend to.
Damien dug a scrap of paper and pencil out of his kit and wrote a quick, two-sentence note to the archmage. She’d taught Damien how to send his constructs to a location he knew so he didn’t have to guide the message the whole way. He conjured a bird and sent it to his master’s office. That little task finished he pulled a chair over beside the stove, grabbed a second one to use as a footstool and settled in to wait.
A hot bath followed by a hot meal left Damien in a much-improved mood. His good mood soured slightly when Nigel explained that they had to sleep on the floor. At least they were inside and warm.
