“I’ll not hold off sending the activation message.”
Cadoc nodded. “Of course, sir. But whoever disabled the barrier may have disabled the package.”
“Go, then,” Lord Koen said. “Make certain all is well.”
“What if it was nothing and it progresses while I’m gone?”
“Then meet me in the hallway in front of the dressing rooms. I’ll be rallying the sheep there to head for the storage room exit. We can continue the plan from that point.”
He nodded and hurried off. A few agents from the security detail eyed him as he left. They’d all been much more alert since the crowds had gathered outside. Cadoc grunted. Aside from the issue with the barrier, the plan was proceeding well.
Ahead, Tobin rounded the corner at the end of the hallway. That special investigator, Master Gella, was with him.
What in hells was this? Cadoc frowned. They were talking, so Tobin hadn’t yet noticed him. He ducked into a side room and made his way to the door at the other end.
Had Tobin figured out their plan and decided to interfere, even with his family held hostage? No, he wasn’t very magically inclined, so he’d likely not be able to counter the opaque barrier. The more likely scenario was Master Gella had somehow learned of their plans. If she had, the woman would be one of the better investigators he’d come across. She must have, though. Why else would she be here? She must have disrupted the device and was now on her way to the High Lady. But what did Tobin’s presence mean? Was he working with her? Or had she just grabbed an employee to assist her and it happened to be Tobin? Not that it mattered. Tobin’s part in the plan was complete.
Cadoc glanced around the corner of the doorway. They had passed this door, their backs were to him, so he hurried off to the elevator. He had to get the plan back on track. Once the fire was started, he could take care of Tobin and send the message to take care of his family, thus eliminating those links to Lord Koen.
When he stepped out of the elevator, Cadoc narrowed his eyes. The door to the mechanical room was open. He carefully made his way over and peered within.
The barrier was gone, of course, but someone was still there, back to him, murmuring. And that someone must have the control device—it wasn’t where it should be. The diversion chute had been destroyed, too. Pieces of it lay against the wall just inside. The wall itself was damaged. Its wood laths were cracked and broken, some lying with the pieces of the chute on the wood floor.
Cadoc pressed his lips together. He’d have to improvise a way to get the accelerant into the circulator, but first . . .
He quietly approached the interloper as he drew the wolf’s head sword from the cane scabbard.
+ + + + +
Master Gella followed Tobin out of the mechanical room and back to the elevator. According to him, Koen had performed and given a few encores before the High Lady began her speech. She thus must know that her uncle was here. What she likely didn’t know was the danger she was in.
Once out of the elevator, Tobin led her through a hallway and finally onto the back of the stage, all the while keeping up a commentary about the man he thought he’d known.
The look on that man’s face when he saw her was instructive. Koen knew who she was. He also didn’t like the fact that she arrived with Tobin. Koen removed a ’writer from his jacket and was likely sending a message to his right-hand man—Cadoc, according to Tobin. Cadoc was supposed to be here with Koen, but was not.
Gella murmured, “Where is Cadoc?”
“I’m not sure.” Tobin glanced at Koen. “He was here earlier, but there are parts of the plan I wasn’t privy to.”
The cricket went off.
Pissing blades! Gella hastily silenced it.
“What was that?” Tobin stared as she tucked it back in her jacket.
She frowned. “Bad news.”
The cricket going off might mean Koen was attempting to start his grand finale. Quillan said he’d dealt with the package, however, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.
Even so, she approached one of the High Lady’s security detail. “We have a situation. We need to get our charge out of here.”
The man scowled. “That’s not going to be easy with the crowds that have gathered around the building. We sent a message for police support, but with the festival, it will take them some—”
“Not to worry. I have an alternate route out of the building. There’s not much left of the speech, so as soon as she’s done, you’ll go.”
The man nodded, then caught the eye of an agent on the other side of the stage. They exchanged hand gestures.
Gella turned to the High Lady. Only a few more sentences.
“ . . . because the people of this nation, of this great city of Stronghold, have spoken. They demand immediate, effective action and have rightly made me the focus of that mandate. And so, I offer the Fair Deal plan I have outlined tonight to the people of Stronghold and this nation. Thank you.”
High Lady Hasana bowed her head.
Polite applause and a great deal of murmurs came from the audience. As the curtains began to close, the house lights came up.
What was her uncle’s response to the speech?
Gella turned to Koen, but he was gone.
“What is this situation my security detail speaks of?” High Lady Hasana walked over, the agents from the other side of the stage with her.
“My Lady,” Gella said, “he planned to burn the theater down with you in it.”
“He?”
“Your uncle, Lord Koen.”
High Lady Hasana’s face went pale. “What? I knew he was a greedy bastard, but—” She blinked. “What is that smell?”
Gella sniffed and looked around. The scent was sharp and heavy. Where was it coming from? There, from the vent on the wall, liquid dribbled down. “Shit.”
She turned to the High Lady. “I’m staying behind to try to get people out of here, but you must leave. Now!”
High Lady Hasana drew her brows together. “What?”
“Coatl and Fillion are waiting.” Gella turned and grabbed Tobin by the shoulders. “Lead them to the storm tunnel. Hurry!” She spun him, shoved him into motion, and turned to the agents. “Crimson snow! Follow that man!”
Upon hearing the phrase, the four agents immediately surrounded the High Lady, and she and the security detail hurried after Tobin. The High Lady took a worried glance back as they rounded a corner.
Gella stared at the air vent. The accelerant wasn’t spewing out like at the warehouse, it was merely dribbling. Thankfully, it wasn’t on fire, but she was certain there wasn’t much time before it would be. Even that small amount of accelerant in the various air vents was enough to ignite flames all over the theater.
She hurried to the middle of the large curtains on the stage and stepped between them.
The auditorium was only about half empty. People were still heading toward the aisles from the seats before making their way out the back doors.
She walked to the front of the stage. “Attention everyone! As a special thank you, the High Lady has arranged for complimentary refreshments in the front lobby, including some very fine spirits and wines. She was unsure how many would be here tonight, so be certain to partake before what’s on hand is gone.”
The people began leaving a bit faster. Excellent.
A theater employee was standing at the end of the stage, watching her. “Who are you? We don’t have any refreshments in the lobby.”
“I’m Special Investigator Gella.”
The man’s eyes grew large.
“I need you to start evacuating everyone to the lobby.”
“What? Why?”
“Don’t worry about the why for now, just hurry and get all employees and patrons to the front lobby as quickly as you can. Get help if you need to, hear?”
“O–Okay.”
“Don’t just stand there, man, go!”
He hurried behind the curtains.
She re
moved the ’writer and selected the special investigator network.
Gella here. Send that secure carriage for Forest Mink to Willow Boughs street and Winding Trail lane, immediately. FM will be near there with dragons~
Ack~
EOM~~
She closed her eyes. Coatl. Can you hear me?
I can.
The High Lady’s on the way to that access hatch in the storm tunnel. Keep an eye out for a secure carriage en route to pick her up there. Also, we need to clear a path through the crowds at the front of the theater so the rest of the people inside can get out. Ask the Guildmaster if she can help with that. We need to be quick. I think the fire will start soon.
I thought Quillan said he disabled the device?
He did say that, but accelerant is coming through the air vents. Something may have gone wrong.
I have told Itzel. She will ask the Guildmaster.
Thank you.
She selected the High Lady’s security detail network and began writing.
Gella here. Due to crimson snow, Forest Mink and her otters are on the way out via a burrow. We still need to clear a path outside the front doors so people can exit the building. The Dragon Craft Guild will assist~~
After tucking the ’writer away, she clenched her jaws and made her way off the stage and into the nearly empty auditorium. The High Lady was now safe, but what about Quillan?
Chapter 27
Therday, Diamy 28, 1875.
Night.
The merest whisper of steel sliding from a felt-lined scabbard came from behind.
Quillan shoved the device into his satchel and slid forward, spinning into a ready stance at the end, dagger in hand. He tossed the satchel aside.
He’d heard the sword cutting through the air as the spell pulled him forward, and now he saw the man who wielded it. From its look, the sword had been forged from enchanted steel.
Quillan swallowed. It might have separated his head from his shoulders.
The man narrowed his eyes. “Nicely avoided.” His gaze shifted briefly to the dagger, then over Quillan’s body—how he held himself. “You’ve had training. Are you one of Gella’s investigators? I’ve not seen them in uniforms like that before.”
This man knew Master Gella?
Quillan toyed with the idea of activating his mouth piece, but Master Gella didn’t have a comm set, and she was the only one who knew where he was. He was on his own for now.
He quickly surveyed that end of the room, looking for any advantage. “I’m not one of her investigators, though we do work with her on occasion.”
The man circled to the left, sword pointing at Quillan’s heart. He eyed the room as well. “We?”
“The Dragon Craft Guild.”
The muscles in the man’s jaws twitched.
A corner of Quillan’s mouth lifted in a tiny smile. “Have we been a thorn in your side?”
There was no response. The man was staring at something.
Quillan followed his gaze to the circulator, but saw nothing he hadn’t seen before.
“You have meddled in my employer’s plans, yes.” The man was now watching him.
“And why does your employer want to kill his niece?”
The man’s eyes narrowed.
Quillan took a little pleasure at surprising the man again but wondered what was so interesting about the circulator. As his gaze went to the right, the man attacked.
With a jump back, Quillan brought up the dagger to block, and the man pressed forward into him. The dagger scraped along the sword, deflecting it safely to the side. They stood there a moment, faces inches from each other.
Quillan scowled and pushed the sword and the man.
As the man hopped back toward the right, he swung the scabbard, the bottom part of a walking stick he still held in his other hand, straight at Quillan’s head.
A timely hop back prevented a bit of pain.
“You’re strong.” The man gave him another appraising look, this time at his torso, his arms, and shoulders. “Even so . . .” A smug smile curved the man’s lips, and magic pulsed from him.
Quillan braced for whatever the man intended.
Another opaque, inky wall appeared. It blocked that entire side of the room. Had the man merely been looking where he would place the barrier?
The sound of some kind of movement along with another faint pulse of magic came from beyond the dark wall.
What was happening back there? With a quick cast of Myung’s Manifestation, the barrier spell was revealed, and Quillan brought the wall down.
The man spun to face him and smiled. “My, my. You’re a talented individual, aren’t you? Sorcery and hand-to-hand combat. This might be fun.” He lifted the sword and took several steps closer, moving the blade’s tip in a little circle as he did so.
Quillan drew his brows together. The man was trying to distract him. But from what? He took a step to the right, to see behind.
The man attacked then, but not with a slash, with a thrust.
Damn that blade’s reach!
Quillan swung up the dagger to deflect, but not quite fast enough. The sword missed piercing his chest, but sliced through the riding jacket and his side, just under his left arm.
Ignoring the pain, he quickly stepped closer, and with the dagger still holding off the blade, he grabbed the man’s sword wrist and squeezed. Quillan’s off hand wasn’t as strong, but it was strong enough. He felt tendons and bones grinding.
With an annoyed grunt, the man twisted his arm, freeing his wrist, and jumped back.
Quillan backed away as well, avoiding the deadly sharp blade.
His effort paid off, however. The blade was now held lower.
It was then that a quiet sound caught his attention. It reminded him of water or wine quietly gurgling from a bottle, or—
The accelerant! His gaze flew to the stand. A faint shimmer was just visible underneath it. That was the spell he’d felt. The man had created a small barrier to replace the destroyed diversion chute!
His distraction nearly made him miss seeing another attack. Fortunately, with the man’s wrist weakened, Quillan was able to easily deflect the blade even with the late block. Even so, the injury in his side slowed his movements.
The man must have noticed, because he quickly attacked again.
Quillan couldn’t completely deflect the blade and took another cut, this time to his right arm.
“Hmm.” The smug smile was on the man’s lips again. “You’ve had training, but not a great deal of experience. Ah, well.”
Quillan had to end this quickly. The man was quick, was a much better swordsman, and the longer blade versus the dagger made matters even worse. Care would have to be taken, however. The man didn’t seem stupid.
Gaze on him, Quillan began casting a slide spell.
The man tensed.
Quillan did not continue that spell, however, just left it as it was, mid-weave. He glanced left in a feint, then he looked to the right at the air circulator and began a new spell. Once the anchor was placed, he immediately glanced somewhere else as he continued with the spell, then looked back at the man. His gaze flicking about like that should make it difficult to plan for what was coming.
Just as he finished the spell, Quillan jumped to the right as a further distraction.
Gaze intently following Quillan, the man crouched slightly.
Metal groaned and squealed when Tretan’s Relocation tore the large circulator from the floor and slung it toward the man.
That fellow was definitely agile. He’d managed to avoid most of it, but his right leg was struck by a portion of torn air pipe sticking out from the circulator’s side, knocking him down.
As accelerant poured out of the ruined air chamber, the man got to his feet and sheathed his sword. Accelerant still splashed to the floor from the shimmery chute under the stand, as well. The powerful odor of the spreading liquid was obvious now. It was sharp and thick in Quillan’s nostrils.
The man had to use the cane to walk the few steps out the door. He turned back. “Well done. Unfortunately, you’ve seen my face and you know of Lord Koen. Equally bad for you, enough fuel was diverted to the circulator to serve our purpose.”
Quillan’s eyes widened. There was a large pool of accelerant under the circulator between him and the doorway the man stood in, and it continued to splash down from the trunks. The only other exit was those doors at the back of the room. The ones that opened on the balcony five stories above the plaza.
Nantli, I need help!
The man struck a match and watched its dancing flame. “Two birds, one stone.” He tossed the lit splinter of wood toward the circulator and turned away, disappearing beyond the door.
As the match arced over toward the accelerant, Quillan wove a barrier spell. If he could block the match, keep it from reaching—
With a little flare and a quiet ‘whoosh,’ the air around the match caught fire. Flames raced toward the floor and the accelerant covering it.
Shit! There was no hope for it, now!
Quillan turned and ran, grabbing his satchel in passing and abandoning the barrier spell. As he bolted for the glass-paneled doors, he threw the carryall toward the right one as hard as he could and desperately began weaving another enchantment.
+ + + + +
“Coatl and I will stay here and wait for the High Lady,” Fillion said. “As everyone else is still busy with the fires, you and Nantli should go help the Guildmaster and Master Doronal with the crowd. Master Gella sounded like she thought the fire was imminent. If so, everyone will be trapped inside.”
Chanté twisted his lips and stared down the storm tunnel access hatch. How many dragonlinked did it take to get people to move aside? Besides, he didn’t want to leave. Quillan said he’d taken care of the device, so how could the fire start? Had something happened to him? Why wasn’t he coming back out of this—
“If something happened with Quillan, wouldn’t you rather be there at the theater? Go on. If he does come out here, I’ll take him over.”
Chanté drew his brows together. His face felt hot. Was it because he was thinking about Quillan, or because Fillion knew he was thinking about Quillan?
He is right. If Quillan needs our help it will be better if we are close by.
Of Gods, Trees, and a Sapling: Dragonlinked Chronicles Volume 4 Page 93
