Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  “Yes, Grandmaster.”

  “Okay. Ready?”

  Three nods. Mya looked at her watch again. “We go in two minutes.”

  When it was time, Mya glanced at her people and jerked her head toward the light.

  “Be safe,” Dee whispered.

  She smiled and nodded, then turned and jogged down the tunnel as quietly as she could. The squelching footfalls behind her sounded like thunder to her sensitive ears, but she doubted the guards would hear. As she hove into the light, she lunged forward, sprinting flat out. She was almost to the first trip wire before the guards spotted her.

  As their eyes widened and they raised their bows, Mya dodged right, bounded off the wall to give herself momentum, then ran in a spiral up the left wall, across the arched ceiling, and down the right, evading all six wires.

  The guards fired, and the bolts streaked toward her, their tips glinting green in the light.

  That can’t be good.

  Snatching one bolt out of the air, she noted its crystal tip. She tried to catch the second one, but her fingers only batted it aside. Please don’t explode… The bolt struck the wall and spattered an acrid green liquid that smoked and sizzled.

  Kittal and his damn chemicals!

  Mya sprinted on toward the door. One of the guards frantically reloaded as she bore down on them, but the other dropped her crossbow and started to reach for a small lever set into the wall. An alarm or a trap? Mya could only take out one of the two before one shot or the other pulled the lever. But which one? Her dilemma was solved as a tiny dart shot past her to imbed in the crossbowman’s chest. The man fumbled his weapon, reeled, and dropped.

  Good shot, Dee!

  As Mya slammed into the door, she snatched the other assassin’s wrist. The woman screamed as she was jerked away from the lever. Metal squealed as the door tore free and they tumbled into the room beyond. Mya flung the woman aside as she rolled to her feet, and surveyed her opponents.

  The woman from outside lay sprawled with her arm bent at an impossible angle and a nasty contusion on her head. One down. The three other assassins in residence were caught off-guard, and luckily none of them were near the canopied bed near the back of the chamber where a boy lay. One looked up startled from his book. A second, stretched out on a divan, blinked sleepily as she raised her head from a pillow. Only the third was already on his feet and reaching for a weapon.

  You first.

  Mya was moving before any of the assassins could bring a weapon to bear. Her foot caught the standing assassin in the gut. Air whooshed from this throat as he doubled over. Pulling a dagger, she flung it through the book-reader’s hand before he could grasp his crossbow, then kicked him in the temple with just enough force to knock him out.

  The sleepy assassin, now wide awake, rolled from the couch and plucked a vial from her pocket. She flung it at Mya and dashed for the canopied bed and the boy.

  Damn it! Though the boy was their last hostage, Mya wouldn’t put it past Lakshmi to have ordered him murdered instead of allowing him to be rescued. Unfortunately, the glittering crystal vial arcing toward her seemed a more immediate threat. Mya caught it gingerly and lunged after the woman. They reached the bed at the same moment.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Mya grabbed the assassin by the hair and jerked her away from the boy.

  The woman yelped in protest. Clutching at another crystal vial dangling on a chain around her neck, she thumbed out the stopper and raised the vial to her lips.

  Mya snatched the woman’s wrist before she could quaff the contents, and squeezed. “Drop it, or I break your arm.”

  With a cry of pain, the woman dropped the vial, the dark liquid spilling onto the rug.

  Dee raced into the room, clattering over the fallen door. His low whistle caught Mya’s attention and she looked around, really seeing the room for the first time.

  What the hell?

  Unlike the austere quarters that the other two boys had been held in, this room was lavish. Tapestries draped the walls and were suspended from above, giving the illusion of a cozy, low-ceilinged room. Soft rugs cushioned the floor. The furniture was finely crafted from gleaming wood and upholstered with silk. Shelves along one wall were stacked with all manner of toys and trinkets.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked the assassin in her grip.

  The woman looked at Mya through a veil of disheveled hair, her eyes panicked. “Please don’t take him! Lakshmi will kill me.” She grabbed for the boy.

  “I don’t have time for this. Dee, shoot her.”

  “Sure.” Dee’s shot lodged into the woman’s leg, and she folded.

  Mya slung the assassin over her shoulder. She hadn’t planned to take a captive, but there was something going on here that wasn’t quite right. She’d take the woman and ask questions later.

  “Dee, get the boy. We’re out of here.” Mya glanced around as Dee hurried past her to the bed, her paranoia rising. Too many places in here for assassins to hide. “Hurry.”

  He folded his crossbows and jammed them into their pockets. “Give me a second! He’s not going anywhere. He’s out cold.”

  Out cold? That didn’t make sense. One of the captive Alchemists had said that they weren’t drugging this boy, at least not with opium. Mya scanned the room, but nothing moved. Still her paranoia screamed danger. “We have to get out of here. Now!”

  With a grunt, Dee lifted the boy from the bed.

  Click!

  The sound embodied Mya’s worst fears and kicked her instincts into motion.

  “Trap!” Dropping the unconscious assassin, she lunged for Dee. Overhead, she heard the sound of ripping cloth. She grasped Dee by the arm and flung him toward the door.

  Dee yelped, but kept hold of the kid as they tumbled across the room.

  Something pelted down on Mya like hail. It fell in a dark cloud, so thick that she momentarily lost sight of Dee at the doorway, thousands of tiny black ovals no bigger than pumpkin seeds.

  They didn’t hurt and they didn’t explode, but they stuck to whatever they touched—the floor, the furniture, and her—so tenaciously that she couldn’t wipe them off. Wherever they landed, rootlets sprouted and the seeds split open, birthing tendrils that quickly lengthened and thickened into writhing, woody vines.

  “Shit!” She took a step for the door, but fell to her knees. The vines had already bound her feet to the floor.

  “Mya?”

  She looked up at Dee standing beside the door, the boy limp in his arms. Ripping away vines just to stand up, she tried again to take a step, but couldn’t. “Gods damn it!”

  Mya wrenched one foot free and took a step, but where she put it down, more vines entwined her. She tore her other foot free, leaving behind the sole of her boot, and struggled to take a step. She could barely move. Panic surged up in her.

  “Mya!”

  Mya ignored Dee’s anguished cry in her frenzy to free herself. Tendrils wriggled through her hair and across her face. Vines wound up her limbs and around her torso. She ripped off dozens, hundreds, kicking and thrashing to keep her legs free as she fought toward the door. Drawing her daggers, she slashed desperately at the growths, heedless of the damage the blades did to her flesh. She would heal, if she could only escape. She slashed at her boots and lunged, but the springy vines dragged her down.

  “Mya!” Dee’s shout now verged on panic.

  She looked up at him. He’d dropped the unconscious boy and drawn a dagger, was looking frantically at the thrashing foliage.

  “Stay away, Dee!” Mya lurched forward, managing another step, but more vines entangled her instantly.

  “Mya! The hangings!” Dee pointed over her head.

  Stout ropes hung from eyebolts in the rock ceiling, the supports for the tapestries. Mya’s blood quickened. If only she could reach one, she could swing above the clinging vines to the door. But to do that, she had to break free.

  Slashing wildly at the tendrils that bound her to the floor, Mya droppe
d one dagger, crouched, then leapt with every vestige of strength she possessed. Arm stretched, she reached for the rope, but only managed to grasp the edge of a tapestry. She slashed at the vines that curled up and around her dangling legs, but the blade fared poorly against the woody growths. The tapestry tore, and Mya fell.

  She landed in an eerily springy bed of vegetation. Grasping tendrils instantly enveloped her. She struggled to get up, but only managed to twist. Not far away, the assassin she had flung aside lay entwined in vines, unconscious and oblivious, yet seemingly unharmed.

  “Mya!”

  Wrenching her neck around, she could just see the doorway. Jondy was there, his eyes as wide as saucers. Dee clutched the door frame, a dagger in his hand and desperation in his eyes. As if she could read his mind, Mya knew that he was going to try to try to cut her free.

  “Don’t, Dee!” she screamed. “You’ll just get caught!”

  “Mya, I—”

  “Dee, listen to me! These godsdamned things aren’t hurting me but I can’t…move! Get the boy out and come back with…something to cut or…burn it!”

  “Right!” Dee turned away and began snapping orders to the Blades.

  Mya listened to their footsteps recede into the distance. She was alone.

  With no hope of breaking free, Mya stopped struggling and took deep breaths to calm herself. The vines seemed to have lessened their writhing, but hadn’t eased their grip on her. It was unnerving to be so tightly bound…helpless. Memories of being strapped down on the Grandfather’s table rose unbidden. Dee will be back soon, she hastily assured herself. He’ll bring help, get me out. The vines covered every surface of the room except for the ceiling, but had stopped growing. Gods, what a pretty trap, and I walked right into it.

  A soft grinding of stone on stone perked her ears and set her heart racing. Mya couldn’t turn her head to see, but felt the vines stir. A wet-dog odor touched her nostrils and she heard the murmur of voices from the back of the room.

  But there’s no door there, and Dee would come from the other direction…

  More wet-dog smell, and the vines shifted again. She could discern heartbeats, quiet footfalls, and a strange, intermittent hissing. Someone was coming. Muscles straining, she managed to turn her head. Kittal and several Alchemists waded into the wriggling foliage. Each brandished a perfume atomizer, spraying a fine mist before them. Where the mist settled, the vines retreated.

  The female assassin tumbled from a receding clump of vines. Kittal knelt and checked her. “She’s been drugged. See to the others, I’ll get Mya myself.” The Master Alchemist rose and started working his way toward her, spraying the atomizer carefully. The vines withdrew before him.

  He knelt barely an arm’s reach away. “So, how do you like my little pets?”

  “I’ll rip your arms off, you sonofa—” Mya tried to wrench a hand free to reach him.

  “An idle threat.” The Master Alchemist flicked a hand dismissively. “Dragons’ bane vines are strong enough to bind great wyrms, let alone humans, however enchanted you might be. Winter-cap mushroom tea”—he held up the atomizer—“is the only way to make them loosen their grasp. Renders them powerless, you could say. But I’ve got something different to render you powerless.”

  Withdrawing a bottle from his coat, he uncorked then upended it into a kerchief. When the cloth was wet, he shook it out and draped it gently over Mya’s face.

  “What the…” Mya tossed her head in an attempt to throw off the soaked kerchief, but the vines tightened with her movement. A caustic vapor filled her nostrils, seemed to fill her entire head. The world went fuzzy around the edges. She coughed and tried to break free one more time, but she couldn’t feel her hands and feet any longer.

  “Just let it happen…” Kittal’s voice floated melodic and calming through a fog. “Just relax and drift with it.”

  Mya drifted into darkness.

  Dee’s legs burned as he struggled up the long stair with the Tessifus boy heavy over his shoulder, and guilt heavier on his mind. If Mya hadn’t pulled him away from the trap, she could have gotten out. That should be me down there!

  Two steps ahead, Jondy stopped before a closely fitted wooden door. “It’s shouldn’t be locked,” he whispered back, “but our people might not have gotten this far yet.”

  “Listen,” Dee said as Folk slipped past him, loading a dart into his blowgun. Dee shifted the boy to his left shoulder and pulled one of his crossbows. For all they knew, the room beyond—an office if their Hunters’ reconnaissance was accurate—could be filled with bomb-wielding Alchemists.

  Jondy pressed an ear to the door, then looked back and shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing at all?” Frustration flared along Dee’s already frazzled nerves. Mya! He fought down the panic. “There should be—”

  A muffled thud and faint shouts from far beyond the door interrupted him.

  “They’re breaking in now! Go! We’ll take them from behind! Now!”

  Jondy nodded, loaded his blowgun, and put a hand on the latch. “One…two…three!”

  The Blades burst through, and Dee followed. Two Alchemists were already crumpling to the floor when he stepped into the cluttered office. Dee shot a woman with a long metal rod in her hand, and she fell before she could bring whatever it was to bear. Jondy and Folk both threw daggers at the only remaining Alchemist. The man fell clutching one blade in his throat and another in his gut.

  An impact shivered the heavily barred door.

  “Open it! But be careful!”

  “Right.” Jondy hammered on the door with a dagger hilt until the pounding stopped. He shouted the code phrase that announced him as an ally, threw the bolt, and pulled open the door.

  Jolee’s wide, tusked face poked through the gap, followed by her raised cudgel and several more Enforcers.

  “Dee!” she exclaimed. Her triumphant smile faded as she scanned the room. “Where’s the Grandmaster?”

  “Trapped! Some kind of enchanted plants. No time to explain.” Dee shoved his way past the Blades. “We need torches, axes, anything to get her free and every available assassin to help, but I need to get this kid to Clemson first!”

  “I’ll get the masters.” Jolee barked orders, and Enforcers scattered. She turned back and wrinkled her nose. “You three stink!”

  “We waded through a sewer, what’s your excuse?” Jondy snapped, nearly receiving a ham-sized fist in his face for his flippancy.

  “We don’t have time for this!” Dee tried to get past Jolee, but she put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t, Dee. The place is a mess; Kittal’s Alchemists had traps set. Don’t worry, they’ll be here in a shake.”

  “But I’ve got to—”

  Clemson rounded the corner and strode toward the office, Embree on her heels, followed by Enforcers carrying shovels, rakes, canvas, and oil lamps.

  “What happened?” the Master Enforcer demanded.

  “There was a trap. We got the boy, but Mya’s caught. Some kind of animated plant or something. We’ve got to get her free, but she told me to get the kid out first.” Dee thrust the boy into Clemson’s grasp. “Can you get him out of here? I’ve got to see to Mya!”

  Clemson opened her mouth, then nodded. “We’ll take him to my place. You four, go with Dee.”

  “I’ll go, too,” Embree said, waving a couple of Hunters forward. “Plants and snares I can deal with.”

  “Thank you!” Dee flew down the stairs three at a time, feet thundering behind him. Skidding around the corner toward the chamber, he froze.

  The unconscious guard who lay by the door only minutes ago was gone.

  “What the—” Dee drew his crossbows.

  “What’s wrong?” Embree asked, pulling a pair of kukri from his belt.

  “There was a guard unconscious right there. I hit him square and he went down, drugged. He couldn’t have gotten up.”” He pointed to the door still wreathed with entangling vines, then peered down the dark tunn
el to the river.

  “Folk, Jondy, you know that tunnel. Trace it back and see if you can find the guard.” Embree pointed to the door. “The rest of us will get Mya.”

  The two Blades high-stepped over the trip wires and jogged off down the tunnel, their glow crystal bobbing away into the darkness. Dee led the others to the door, the Enforcers and Hunters already fashioning torches out of shovel handles, canvas, and oil.

  “Mya, hang on! We’re coming!” he called as someone thrust a burning brand into his hand.

  No answer. That didn’t bode well. The plants seemed quiescent now, no longer twitching and writhing as if questing for something to strangle. Hopefully, they hadn’t strangled Mya. At the door he thrust the make-shift torch at the vines. They recoiled from the flames, rustling back a full foot.

  “It’s working! Come on. She’s about thirty feet from the door, straight in!”

  “Carefully!” Embree barked, a torch in one hand and a kukri in the other. “Form up and keep your eyes open!”

  They formed a vee with Dee at the apex and moved slowly forward, waving their torches at the foliage. The vines recoiled from the flames and receded, leaving tattered carpet and bare stone behind. Hunters dribbled oil on the floor and ignited it to keep the vines from closing in behind them.

  “Mya?” Dee peered ahead. There should have been a lump where Mya lay, but the vines before him formed a perfectly flat carpet about a foot thick. “Mya! Answer!”

  No one answered and nothing moved.

  If she had died here, alone… Stop it!

  Foot by foot they advanced, and the vines retreated, but they found nothing. Dee stopped and checked the distance to the door. Forty feet at least.

  “She was right there!” He pointed to a spot on the floor, trying not to sound panicked. “There were four Alchemists in this room, too!”

  “Did the damn plants eat them?” asked a Blade.

  “No, I don’t believe that.” Dee’s denial sounded more like desperation than conviction, even to his own ears. He had no idea what these obviously enchanted plants could do. He swung his torch against the vines, advancing recklessly. “She’s got to be here!”