Powder Mage Trilogy 01 - Promise of Blood

by Brian McClellan

  The Barber sank to the floor screaming. Adamat tapped SouSmith on the shoulder with his cane. The boxer stepped back.

  “Who hired you?” Adamat said.

  “The Proprietor!” Teef squealed through a string of curses. “He came in here looking for your head!”

  “At least make your lies plausible.” Adamat flicked his cane against Teef’s wrist. He felt a pang of pity as Teef screamed again, but forced it down. Teef’s blades came to Adamat’s home, where his wife and children slept, and tried to kill him. His family would have been killed in their beds, every one of them, if they had been there. Adamat knew how the Barbers worked. They were as cold and ruthless as Lord Vetas. Adamat raised his cane to bring it down hard.

  “A priest.”

  Adamat stopped. “A priest? Come now.”

  “It was a priest,” Teef said. He sucked in shaky breaths, chest heaving as he talked, tears running down his face. “He came in here yesterday morning. He was crying the whole time, kept asking Kresimir for forgiveness.”

  “What did he look like?” Adamat asked.

  “A priest. White robes and sandals. Blond hair. A little taller than you. A mole on his right cheek. He wouldn’t look me in the eye.”

  Siemone. Adamat felt his mouth go dry.

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred thousand krana.”

  Adamat nearly dropped his cane. “What? For me?”

  Teef wheezed a laugh. “Two jobs. Fifteen thousand for you.”

  “And the rest?” Adamat looked around. He’d trusted it to good fortune that there’d been only a few of the Barbers around. He realized now why there weren’t more: They were at a job. The thought made his skin crawl. That made at least forty Barbers unaccounted for, maybe more.

  Sabon stepped forward and dragged Teef to his feet by the front of his shirt. “Is it Tamas?” Sabon said. He shook the Barber. “You double-crossing swine! Is it?”

  “By the pit, no!” Teef said. “There’s not that kind of money in the world.”

  “Who is it, then?”

  “A chef,” Teef said. “Some big fat man in charge of the feast. My employer wanted him cut down in public. We don’t normally do that, but for the amount he offered…” Teef trailed off.

  Sabon dropped him. Teef tried to catch himself, called out in pain. Sabon gave him a look of disgust. “You’ve made a terrible mistake,” he said. He glanced at Adamat. “Take them to Sabletooth. I have to go.”

  Sabon was gone without another word, and Adamat saw that it was now just he, SouSmith, and the four Barbers. He exchanged a glance with SouSmith. The boxer shrugged. Adamat lifted Teef’s chin with the tip of his cane. “What’s so important about a chef?” he asked. Mihali, he recalled the chef’s name. Had the arch-diocel remembered the beating Mihali gave him in Tamas’s presence? It was a lot of money for revenge.

  Teef shook his head. Adamat moved his cane threateningly. Teef’s head shake was more emphatic. “I don’t know, Kresimir damn you! It was just a job.”

  “And you have no idea where the money came from?” Charlemund. Siemone wouldn’t do dirty work for anyone else. Charlemund had been trying to frame Ricard all along.

  Teef hesitated just a second too long.

  “I suggest you remain ignorant,” Adamat said. “Or your fate will be worse than it already is.” Tamas would destroy Teef. Adamat almost pitied the Barber. Almost. He stepped away from Teef as a troop of soldiers entered the room. “Get them to Sabletooth,” Adamat said. “All of them. I have to go to find the field marshal.”

  “It’ll take hours to get across the city with the festival on,” SouSmith shouted after him.

  Adamat barely heard as he ran out of the building. He needed to tell Tamas about Charlemund before it was too late.

  Chapter 35

  Taniel’s chest heaved, his legs ached. A few short hours of rest just before dawn was all they’d taken in the last two days. Only his powder trance let him keep the pace, but he always found himself outdistancing his companions. Two of the Watchers had collapsed from exhaustion. They left them where they were and continued on. Those men would find their own way back down the mountain.

  The going was easier than Taniel’s last ascent. Some snow had melted, the rest had been cleared by the Mountainwatch. There’d been some travel between the Mountainwatch and Novi’s Perch for resupply since winter. Campfires and old horse droppings remained from resupply caravans sent to the monastery.

  Those didn’t concern Taniel. What concerned him was the more recent passage. They’d yet to catch sight of the Kez, but they’d found two camps. There was scat and tracks enough for at least a hundred men and pack animals to boot. That many men shouldn’t have been able to sneak past the Mountainwatch, yet somehow they had.

  They found the third camp midday. It was tucked away off the main trail, down by a waterfall that was still half-frozen despite summer being almost upon them. Taniel checked the ashes of a cook fire. They were still warm.

  He took stock of the camp. It brought back memories of camps not so unlike this in faraway Fatrasta when he and the natives tracked Kez patrols and lay ambushes for them. Only that hadn’t been in the high mountains, and those patrols weren’t filled with Privileged. And Wardens.

  His chest went cold as he kicked something with his toe. He picked it up, flipped it around in his hand. It was a metal ball just about the size of a man’s fist. An air reservoir from a Warden’s air rifle.

  “How far behind them?” Bo asked when the rest of the group had caught up to Taniel. Bo looked less well each day. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes underlined by black bags. Their punishing pace had done him ill.

  “Hours,” Taniel said. He tossed Bo the air reservoir. “I should have expected this.”

  “Where there are Kez Privileged, there are Wardens,” Bo said.

  He dropped the metal sphere, only to have Ka-poel swoop in and pluck it from the ground. She examined it closely and tucked it into her rucksack.

  “We’re gaining on them,” Taniel said.

  “Close to the top, too,” Bo replied. “We’re not far from Novi’s Perch.”

  “Everyone rested?” Taniel asked Fesnik. The young Watcher staggered to the waterfall to refill his canteen.

  Fesnik groaned. “Pit, no. We supposed to be able to fight after a climb like this?”

  “Fight and win,” Taniel said. He nudged Fesnik with his toe.

  “Right, right,” Fesnik said. He climbed to his feet. “Come on,” he called to the others. “We’re moving again.”

  Taniel watched them head back to the main trail. These were hard men, Mountainwatchers. Yet none had his advantage with the powder, and even he felt sapped from the climb. What good would they do against Julene and the other Privileged? How could they possibly win a fight?

  Taniel fell in beside Ka-poel on the trail. She held a blank-faced wax figurine, pushing and shaping the wax with her fingers.

  “What are you doing?” he asked her.

  She tucked the doll under one arm. Expecting an explanation of hand signs, Taniel leaned closer. She punched him in the shoulder.

  “Ow.”

  She shooed him away with one hand and returned to her project. He fell back beside Bo.

  Bo looked troubled.

  “You seem cheery,” Taniel said. Bo’s expression didn’t change. The sarcasm seemed lost on him.

  “We might be too late,” Bo said.

  “We’re making better time than I expected.”

  “We have to be there during the solstice.”

  “Don’t worry,” Taniel said. “We will.” Taniel spotted smoke in the sky. He grabbed Bo’s shoulder and pointed.

  “Is that the mountain?” Taniel said. He couldn’t remember being able to see the smoking crater from here on his last journey up.

  Bo paled. “No,” he said. “Too close. That’s Novi’s Perch.”

  Word spread and they redoubled their efforts. They reached the Perch within an hour.
r />   The wall of the monastery that effectively ended this portion of the trail had been smashed in. It looked like a giant had stepped up to the side of the mountain and simply slapped it with the flat of his hand. Some of the old rock remained where it met the mountain. The rest had fallen away into the abyss and was invisible against the stone of the gulch far, far below. The monastery was exposed like the side of a dollhouse, hallways and stairs bare to the elements.

  The ruins lay like a smoking animal carcass, splintered timbers jutting out from the rubble like broken ribs. In some places the rock itself had melted away. The invisible fist that had destroyed a great part of the monastery had also destroyed a chunk of the cliff, and the hallway that led from one end of the monastery to the other was now divided by a fissure twenty paces across.

  “We can go back, and head down one of the halls,” Fesnik said. “There’s a warren inside the mountain—that’s where the rest of the monastery is. Shouldn’t take but a few minutes.” His voice was quiet, almost reverent. He gazed about with a look of sadness. Taniel realized that the Watchers must have known these monks.

  They found the hallways just as Fesnik had said. Once they were inside the mountain, the smoke got worse. They could barely breathe as they made their way through the crisscross of hallways. Rina’s dogs whined despite her rebukes. Taniel paused by one wall, noting a splatter of blood. An odd chip had been made in the stone. He ran his fingers over it. From a bullet, for certain.

  “There’s no bodies,” Taniel said quietly. He spoke mostly to himself, but was surprised to find Ka-poel very close to him. She examined the ruins clinically. Taniel said, “There have to be survivors. The smoke would drive them out. They must be on the other side.” He nodded to himself. “That’s it.” Taniel felt ill.

  Ka-poel gave him a look that seemed to say she doubted this.

  They came out of the hallway on the other side of the fissure. He could see where the monastery ended, and the broken stairways that led up to the opposite entrance. No one was to be seen.

  “Please,” a voice said.

  Taniel leapt into the air. He spun around, pistol out before he could process a thought. He lowered the pistol.

  A monk shied away from him. It was a woman, much younger than he expected.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. The sight of her made his hands shake. Her face was bruised, battered. Blood stained her robe. “Are there more survivors?”

  The woman indicated one of the many hallways. Thirty paces in, as far out of the elements as they could manage, was a ragtag group. The smoke wasn’t too bad here. There were seven that Taniel could see still standing, and a large number of linen-wrapped bodies on the floor. His heart fell as he counted those bodies. He stopped at forty, and that couldn’t have been half.

  Fesnik spoke to one of the monks, an old man, his gown torn and dirty, his eyebrows singed. Taniel approached.

  “We gave them the best fight we could,” the old man said. He brandished his walking stick. “They came out of nowhere. We should have been better prepared. Had there not been so many…”

  Taniel knew the monastery would still have been destroyed. What could a bunch of monks do against half of the Kez Cabal, and Julene on top of that? She stormed through, slaughtering as she went. What could Taniel and Bo hope to do against her?

  The man went on, “That was two hours ago. The fight was fast, violent. I’ve never seen anything like it. Some of the younger ones can’t even believe it happened.” He gestured to a young monk who sat near the wall, arms wrapped around himself. He was in shock, eyes staring out at nothing. “Del hasn’t spoken since it happened. Still, we made a good accounting.”

  Taniel could barely hold back his bewilderment. “A good accounting?”

  The old monk’s face was serious but proud. “Well, yes. Half these bodies are theirs.”

  Taniel looked around. He then saw what he hadn’t before—a stack of air rifles in the corner. He realized that many of the bodies were big, bigger than any man should be. Fifteen, twenty. Wardens. Then there, near a small fire one of the monks was using for warmth, he saw the frayed corner of a Privileged’s glove and a Kez uniform. Taniel felt awed. This small group of monks had not only stood their ground against the Kez Cabal, they’d given as good as they got.

  There had to be sorcery at play here. Powerful stuff. Not anymore. He wondered if there were more monks farther in the monastery. No, probably not. This looked like it. A meager handful of survivors. Yet they managed to fight Wardens and Privileged.

  “Why’d they leave you alive?” Taniel asked as gently as he could.

  The old man tightened a bandage around his wrist. “Seemed in a hurry.”

  “The solstice,” Bo said, appearing at Taniel’s shoulder.

  The monk barely blinked, his face revealing nothing. “There are old magics,” he said quietly.

  “They were led by a woman?” Taniel asked. “Regal, looks about thirty-five with a great scar on her face.”

  “A woman?” the monk said. “No, a giant cave lion, slinging sorcery.”

  “Her chosen form,” Bo said glumly.

  “We’re going after them,” Taniel said. “Do you know how many were left?”

  The old man gave Taniel an annoyed look. “I didn’t pause to count as we collected our dead.”

  “Sorry,” Taniel muttered. There were a lot of bodies here. They may have wiped out a good chunk of the Kez. Mostly Wardens, it seemed. He gave Bo a glance. Bo was examining the wrapped bodies and moving among the survivors. His fingers twitched in his gloved hands. He’d love to know what kinds of sorceries these monks were hiding. Taniel guessed that not even the cabals knew all the old secrets.

  Bo returned to the old monk. “This monastery. It was put here to guard against something.”

  The monk’s face remained neutral.

  “Against Kresimir’s return?”

  “Nothing good will come of the god returning,” the old man said. “But there are worse things on this mountain.” He paused. “Yes, we are the gatekeepers of Kresim Kurga. The Predeii have returned. We were meant to stop them.” His proud countenance faltered. “We failed.”

  “We’ll do what we can,” Bo said.

  Taniel gave what he hoped was a confident nod.

  They stepped away from the old monk and put their heads together.

  “He knows a lot more than he’s letting on,” Bo said.

  “We don’t have time to interrogate him.”

  Bo rubbed his gloved hands together. “I’d make it quick. It might be valuable.” His eyes glowed with curiosity, and his face was more alive than Taniel had seen in weeks.

  “No,” Taniel said. “Look around. He wants Julene dead. He would have told us anything he knew. God, they really do make you sell your soul to join the cabal, don’t they?”

  “Expediency.”

  “We have to go,” Taniel said. “The solstice?”

  “Today.”

  “How long will it take to get to the peak?”

  “Longer than it is until the solstice.”

  “We’ll have to beat it,” Taniel said. “Do we have a plan?”

  Bo frowned. “There are plenty of Privileged among these dead,” he said. “Maybe enough to ruin her plans. She needs power to summon Kresimir. She needs to bridge great distances to bring him back.” Bo seemed to consider his options for a moment. “Take out as many Privileged as we can. Ignore Julene.”

  “She’ll be hard to ignore when we’ve made her angry.”

  Bo sighed. “We’ll deal with that when we come to it.”

  Taniel returned to the old monk. The man was kneeling next to the other he’d called Del, and was speaking quietly into his ear. He looked up.

  “You’ll need a guide in the city,” he said. “There are dangerous paths up there. Del knows the way best. I’m trying to coax him up…”

  Bo pushed Taniel aside and knelt next to the man. He touched gloved fingers to the man’s forehead and held his oth
er hand up. He touched the air gently—a pianist performing a song with one hand.

  “Yes,” Del suddenly said. The word came out as a hiss. “I’ll go.” This was a croak. His eyes came awake, like a fire coming to life in a dark hearth.

  “Are you all right?” Bo asked.

  “Water.”

  “Get him some water,” Taniel told the old monk. He was back in a moment, and they tended to Del before helping him to his feet.

  “I’ll be all right,” Del said. “I’ll go. You… you say you can stop them?”

  “We’ll try,” Bo said.

  “We have to get to Kresim Kurga before the solstice.”

  “Do you know where they’ll be?” Taniel asked.

  Del frowned up at the sky. “There is a coliseum there, built by Kresimir. It helps focus sorcery. I think that is the most likely place.”

  “Excellent,” Taniel said. He pulled Bo to one side. “What did you do to wake him up?”

  “Nothing,” Bo said. “I was going to touch his mind, see if there was anything there, but he came awake before I did.”

  “It’ll be good to have a guide.”

  Bo agreed.

  Taniel stepped away. A pair of Watchers pulled a body from farther in the smoke-filled hallway—an old woman. She had not a mark on her. She might have died in her bed, killed by the smoke, too deep in the mountain to hear the battle. The Watchers left her body with the monks and turned back to search for more.

  “We need to go,” Taniel said. He kept his voice gentle, but loud enough for the others to hear. “Fesnik,” he said. “Gather the men.”

  Fesnik had been helping wrap yet another body. He stood up, cast a weary look about him. He seemed to have realized what they were up against. This wasn’t an adventure. This was a chase to the death against opponents far more powerful than they.

  Bo was arguing with the old monk when Taniel returned to them.

  “You can’t bury them all,” Bo said.

  “It’s our way,” the old monk replied. His face was, as always, neutral.