by Ben Hale
The second guard glanced over Raiden’s shoulder, his eyes going wide at the same time Raiden heard a snap of a whip and a cry of pain. Raiden surged forward, closing the gap in four steps.
He brought his sword up, striking at the man on the right. He responded quickly, calling forth a sword of fire to block the blow. His features shifted through surprise and then fear as he saw the black tint to Raiden’s sword, but he was already committed. Raiden’s sword sliced right through the enchantment and came down on his shoulder.
The man cried out as he went down, and Raiden turned to the second. Faster than the first, the dwarf dived past Raiden and turned. Then he called on the stone of the corridor. A blob pressed out from the wall and formed a face, then shoulders and arms appeared. The golem left a gash in the wall as it pulled itself free and stepped between them, its hands shaping into warhammers. The golem charged, trapping Raiden at the end of the corridor.
The golem swelled until it filled the breadth of the hall, obviously intent on crushing him. Raiden leapt up the wall and placed his foot on the door handle, leaping into a twist that carried him up and over the golem. It crashed into the end of the corridor, blasting through the prison door into the cell beyond. Raiden landed and rolled to his feet, his sword rising in an upward swing that cut into the dwarf’s leg.
Growling, the dwarf scrambled back—right into Red’s fist. Dressed in simple clothing and unarmed, she struck the dwarf in the skull, sending him to the floor. He did not rise. Red spit on his unconscious form.
“That’s for saying I was barren,” she growled.
“The fool,” Jester said.
Red grinned, a wealth of emotion written on her expression. “You weren’t supposed to come for me. We made an oath.”
“And we broke it,” Raiden said.
“How did you even get in?” Red asked. “This place is impregnable.”
Raiden and Jester exchanged a look, and Raiden said. “Alydian has proven herself an ally of the Soldier. She’s here as well, gathering the proof we need to end the Verinai.”
A voice called out to them. “If you’re killing Verinai, I want to help.”
Raiden stepped to a cell and looked through the window in the door. In the dark cell he managed to make out a man bound in anti-magic chains. Disheveled and dirty, the elf was dressed in a tattered uniform of a Verinai master, one with three talents.
“Who are you?” Raiden asked.
“Toron,” the man said, stepping to the limit of his chains. “Let me out.”
Raiden had heard the name before, when Teriah had said the man was dangerous. But was he here because Teriah knew the Soldier would come? Was he even the real Toron? Or was he a potential ally? He exchanged a look with Jester and the assassin’s expression revealed his doubt.
“You’re one of them,” Raiden said. “How can we trust you?”
Toron’s lips curled into a feral scowl. “Because I want to kill Elsin.”
“You would kill your own guildmaster?” Jester asked.
“With the utmost pleasure.”
Raiden stepped closer to the window. “And if you succeeded, would you then turn on us?”
Toron’s eyes flicked between them. “You are the Defiant, are you not?”
“We admit nothing,” Jester said, and then grinned.
“I cannot promise I’ll join your ranks,” Toron said, “But the guild has followed a vile leader for too long. It cannot be redeemed.”
Raiden exchanged a look with his lieutenants, and Red shrugged. “Anyone that hates the Verinai is fine by me.”
Raiden stepped to the door and ran his sword along the edge. Several times a burst of sparks indicated he’d severed a curse, and when he was certain it was clean he swung it open. Then he stepped into the room.
“Find the key to his shackles,” he said to Jester.
“Are you certain?” the assassin asked.
“Impulse, not decision,” Raiden replied.
Jester reluctantly nodded and slipped away, returning a moment later with a set of glowing keys. Stepping to Toron, he unlocked the man’s bindings and the chains fell away. Toron straightened and breathed out in relief, issuing a current of fire from his lips.
Raiden kept his sword in hand, and used it to point into the hall. “Red, Toron, find guard uniforms and change. We have a long way to go before we reach the exit. Let’s not make it obvious, shall we?”
Red ducked away while Toron darted into the hall and dragged the body of a guard into his cell. Raiden made to step out into the hall but Toron clenched his fist and the shadows in the room condensed into a wall, closing off the view so he could change.
Raiden raised his eyebrow at that. Shadowmages were rare. Many considered it a mark of a dark mage, and most shadowmages inevitably ended up enchanting weapons and gear for those of nefarious intent. A moment later the shadows dissipated and Toron stepped into view.
Muscled and forbidding, the shadowmage used a blade of fire to slice his hair, leaving the dirty locks to fall to the floor. His eyes were filled with suppressed rage as he stepped to the door and glanced back.
“Let’s go kill some Verinai.”
Red stepped into view and her grin was wild. “I like him. Can we keep him?”
Jester laughed. “If he behaves.”
Chapter 41: Reunion
Instead of taking the lead, Raiden gestured to the shadowmage. “I assume you know the best way through the city?”
Toron smirked, making it clear he understood that Raiden didn’t want him at his back. “This way,” he said.
The man passed a hand over his face and the shadows bent, marring his features until he was unrecognizable. Then he stepped to the forefront of the group and made his way back to the dungeon entrance. He looked back approvingly when they reached the hole in the acid door and carefully stepped through.
They ascended the stairs and worked their way through the gardens. Raiden watched the corridors for guards but kept a portion of his attention on Toron. The man was a Verinai, but the hatred for his guild was evident and Raiden was inclined to trust him. Still, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t betray them.
They paused at the end of the hall when Toron raised a hand, bringing them to a halt. Around the corner came the sounds of approaching boots, the pace unhurried and bored. Raiden reached for his sword and it came free in a whisper of sound, but Toron threw him a warning look and stabbed a finger toward a recessed door.
Raiden raised an eyebrow but did as requested, and the others follows suit. Then Toron joined them, squeezing into the space before bringing his hands together like he was shutting curtains. The shadows closed upon them, engulfing them in gloom just as a trio of guards ambled into view.
They talked and laughed as they strode by, oblivious to the four intruders just inches from them. Crammed into the tiny space, Raiden could smell the stench of dungeon on Red and Toron. Then the guards passed and Toron opened the shade.
“A useful trick,” Jester murmured.
Toron gestured to where the guards had departed. “One of them is an old acquaintance, and I would have been recognized, even behind my mask. Short of killing them we would not have been able to escape.”
“I would have preferred to kill them,” Red said.
“As would I,” Toron said, a faint smile tugging his lips. “But we need to time to escape, and the more bodies we leave in our wake, the less time we have. We need to keep moving.”
Raiden motioned for him to continue, and they entered the corridor the guards had just vacated. At the end of the tunnel the stairs brought them to a small guardhouse manned by a pair of guards sitting beside a fire. Striding past them, Toron opened the door and led them into the street.
Night had fallen, with just a sliver of red still touching the mountains above. Magic had taken the sun’s place, filling the breadth of the city with light. The waterfall that poured down the face of the keep was bright blue, the light shimmering off the mist rising from the fa
lls.
The guardhouse sat adjacent to the keep and looked down on a side avenue. Shops lined the street, the signs wreathed in dancing flames, crackling lightning, and small entities that crawled across the wood. A sign for the Lingering Light had a trio of stunning butterflies perched on the rim, their wings fashioned of light while their bodies were crafted from vivid flames. Water trickled across their bodies giving a visceral tint to their forms. They flapped their wings and spoke to nearby shoppers in melodic tones, inviting them to visit the store.
Across the street, a sign was covered in a miniature storm, the water battering the wood before splitting to either side of the door. The arch of water sent mist rising into the street, both beautiful and invitingly cool in the summer air. Storm and Shield contained more clouds within, many raining upon tiny crops.
“I didn’t realize your guild could do so much,” Raiden whispered to Toron as they merged into the crowd.
“Our talent is without peer,” Toron said. “As is our arrogance.”
He pointed to a shop depicting a dwarven Verinai standing with a foot on a dragon’s neck. The sign read Dragonslayers and Kings and showed a variety of enchanted weaponry floating above. Through the window Raiden spotted swords and axes made of fire and light and imbued with powerful curses. Beside the weaponry, jewels and magically crafted pendants sat with actual crowns.
“Why did Elsin keep you alive?” Jester asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Toron replied evasively.
Raiden glanced his direction. The man was entitled to his secrets, but would they damage the Soldier? Whatever had transpired between Toron and Elsin had left an open wound, one that drove him to vengeance.
“How many others would betray the guild?” Red asked.
“More than you’d think,” he replied, his eyes on a group of battlemages talking next to a shop of enchanted weapons. “But not many.”
Raiden considered the answer. There were fifty thousand Verinai, but even a few potential allies could make an enormous difference. The information they could bring might prove invaluable, especially if they knew guild secrets, such as how to infiltrate the other guildhalls . . .
Raiden toyed with the tantalizing thought as they worked their way toward the exit. A trio of guards appeared at the end of the street, so Toron led them into an alley and up a flight of stairs to one of the high roads arcing above the city.
With statues on both sides, the road provided a scenic route free of the crowds below. The statues held light orbs on staffs which bathed the road in soft light. Music filtered up from a sound mage below, setting an almost romantic scene.
Verinai couples ambled along the road, talking and laughing. Many ushered children along, the sight reminding Raiden that the city contained families and little ones, children that would be caught up in the carnage of war. A sense of tranquility and peace permeated Verisith. The mages walked between shops and homes without fear, their pace unhurried, their expressions carefree.
“A veneer of light does not obscure the shadows beneath,” Toron said.
Raiden looked to the shadowmage to find the man’s eyes on him. “I imagined Verisith with more . . . brutality.”
Toron motioned to a couple talking in a small park, their children playing on the trees. The limbs were low to the ground and built to contain small cottages, resembling the treeship in the Crescent Moon Farm.
“That’s Yaro,” Toron said. “He killed a farmer because he refused to give him his room to sleep. Yaro’s wife burned the house to the ground when they left.”
Toron gestured to another man. “He scarred a woman because she would not come to his bed. His wife knows but ignores the assaults.”
As Toron detailed the crimes of everyone in sight, Raiden’s stomach churned, his perspective of the city shifting to reality. The Verinai were vile, their crimes a disease that was taught to their children. Finally, Red growled at him.
“Enough,” she said. “Or I will try to free the children from their putrid parents right now.”
Raiden lowered his tone so only Toron could hear. “Red lost her husband because of the guild.”
“A sad tale,” Toron replied. “But too often repeated.”
More guards appeared, and Toron led them to a set of stairs descending back into the city. The high road had taken them close to the southern entrance, and they circled a pond to reach the final approach.
“My face is known to many,” Toron said, motioning Raiden forward. “It would be best if you lead us through the canyon. The gates are usually open, so just walk through as if it’s normal.”
Raiden slipped to the head of the group and they turned down the final street to the main gates. True to Toron’s word the aquaglass gates were open, and a handful of guards stood next to it. Devkin had taken them through the north gate, but it appeared they were nearly identical. Raiden strode past them, his posture bland despite his tension. No one called out as he passed the guards, and he allowed himself to relax as he reached the opening . . .
In a rush of water, the aquaglass flowed upward, closing off the gap and sealing them in. Raiden whirled to find battlemages stepping into view, ten, twenty, a hundred. They stood above and on the street, on the steps and in the doors to the guardhouse. Red cursed as the trap snapped shut. Then a figure appeared behind the battlemages.
Teriah stepped out of the shadows, a triumphant smile on her face. “The Soldier, come to infiltrate our guildhall. It was good of you to come.”
Surrounded by a company of battlemages, Raiden’s heart sank. She had known he would come, and known where to trap him. That left only one question.
“Why?” he asked. “Why not kill me before?”
“Because you had an ally,” Teriah said. “One I could not discern. I knew if I let you live, you would be kind enough to bring that ally here. I must say, I did not expect it to be Alethean. Tell me, did she infiltrate the Runeguard on your orders? Or did you recruit her after?”
Raiden took a step forward but magic blossomed into view. “What have you done to her?” he demanded.
“Guildmaster Elsin should be taking her as we speak,” Teriah said, her eyes never leaving Raiden’s. “I knew you would come for your lieutenant. You may carry an anti-magic blade, but you cannot stop magic. A tiny charm linked to the door of her cell activated the moment you freed her, and I knew you were here. I must say, I’m surprised you freed Toron.”
“You know her?” Red demanded, turning to him.
“I tried to kill her,” Toron said. “I wonder, do you still have the scar, Teriah?”
Teriah reached up to her throat before controlling the reflex. “At least you get to die here,” she said coldly. “I think Elsin will agree that you are too dangerous to let live.”
“Such high praise before I die,” Toron said.
Teriah raised her finger to the captain at her side. “Kill them.”
The Verinai captain smirked—but a sudden explosion drew all eyes to the keep. For an interminable moment the city went quiet, and Raiden could almost hear Alydian’s fury. Then Toron snuffed the light orbs and Raiden drew his sword in the ensuing darkness. Even with Toron they would not escape, but maybe the distraction would be enough for Alydian to flee. Sword in hand, he lunged for Teriah.
Chapter 42: Mineva’s Memory
Devkin shut the door after Raiden and Jester departed, and Alydian turned to Mineva, who began to struggle in Grogith’s bindings. Mineva’s features were tight with fury, her mouth open as she shouted, but Alydian’s curse barred her voice, leaving her to writhe in silence.
Thoughts of Teriah poisoning her mother dominated Alydian’s thoughts, and she imagined what she would do when she saw Teriah again. To have a betrayer on the council was one thing, but for an oracle to kill another was unheard of. Alydian clenched her fists and forced her burgeoning rage aside.
“I wish we could use the Soldier’s memory of you killing King Talin,” Alydian said coldly, “but the people may call that
a trick, so I must come to the source. Your memory will condemn your guild, and bring you to the noose you deserve.”
Mineva’s eyes widened in surprise and fear as Alydian withdrew a small glass orb from her pocket. The sphere was commonly used for light orbs as well as a dozen other purposes, but in a moment it would be filled with Mineva’s memory.
“Hold her still,” she said, and Devkin and Grogith caught her arms.
Alydian reached up and touched the woman’s forehead, closing her eyes as she drew on memory magic. Unlike the overt magics, memories were subtle and convoluted, making casting memories into glass all the more challenging.
Verinai and other memory mages charged a great deal of coin for their work, especially when the charm contained not just moving light, but sound as well. Alydian had practiced the spell several times with Devkin, but doing so with a bound and furious captive would be vastly different.
Alydian willed her consciousness to cross the gap and into the woman’s mind. Whereas Devkin’s mind had been ordered and rigid, Mineva’s mind was haughty and chaotic. The woman betrayed an initial shock at the contact, obviously unprepared for Alydian to possess memory magic. But she recovered in force, nearly ejecting her outright.
I WILL TEAR YOU ASUNDER!
Mineva’s voice was bound, but her scream reverberated through Alydian’s skull. She cringed and fought to hold onto her magic. Empowered by her simmering anger, she pushed deeper into the woman’s memories.
Mineva fought, forcing her mind to images brutal and dark, memories of her training as a Verinai and time as a battlemage. She dredged up every battle, every conflict, showing Alydian in all the visceral detail the battles she’d engaged in. All the while she silently screamed, bellowing her inaudible rage.
Memories contained just as much power as fire or light, and painful memories caused more agony than a blade. Mineva had lived through her experiences and worked for years to accept the regret and loss, but Alydian had no such filter, and lived the woman’s experiences as if they were her own.
