The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books)

by Matthew Sprange

  Instead, he pulled upon another thread, and the lanterns near the main entrance seemed to pale and shimmer, as if losing their radiance. Concentrating, he mentally tugged at the shadows cloaking those behind the barricades, lengthening and stretching them towards the open entrance.

  Confused for a moment, the defenders ceased their volley of fire, no longer able to see their targets through the unnatural darkness that swept between them and the enemy. The Hands did not question their good fortune, and they swept inside en masse. A few thieves fell to quicker-witted Guild men, the rest leaping over the barricades to engage the defenders with blade and club. The warehouse quickly filled with dozens of individual melees as thief battled thief, swordplay interrupted by an arrow or dagger in the back from a concealed enemy, men howling as poisons burned through their bodies from minor scratches. It was a dirty way to fight, and both sides were very good at it.

  Missiles were still coming from the direction of the stairs, picking off anyone too slow to dive for cover once they had dispatched the man or woman they were fighting, and Lucius kept low as he sought to make his way back to Elaine and the men she led. A loud cry made Lucius turn to see a thief running toward him, sword outstretched and eyes wild as bloodlust overcame him.

  Suddenly realising he had yet to draw his own weapon, Lucius stumbled backwards as the sword sliced through the air in front of his eyes, and he sprawled over a motionless body. The thief, now screaming incoherently, held his sword in both hands and raised it above his head, ready to cleave Lucius in two. The weapon descended, and Lucius, panicking, held his arms before him, desperately seizing the first thread that spun across his mind’s eye. With a loud metallic ringing, the sword stopped suddenly in its downward motion, as if it had struck a thick, invisible shield.

  The thief, looked puzzled, jolted out of his bloodletting by what must have appeared as Lucius halting the blow with his own arm. With a grim smile, Lucius rolled out of the way and stood, drawing his own sword. He stabbed forward, and the thief parried wildly, pushing Lucius’ blade to one side. Closing the distance between them, Lucius grabbed at the man’s throat and felt a warm pulse of energy rocket down his arm. Twisting savagely with his magically enhanced strength, he felt the bones in the neck of the thief grind together, then snap. Releasing his opponent, Lucius discarded the body as it collapsed to the floor.

  He found Elaine crouched behind a jumble of hastily piled furniture, surrounded by the bodies of the men she had led into the warehouse. Only a handful now remained alive, the rest having been picked off by increasingly accurate fire.

  “We’re winning,” he said breathlessly.

  “We’ll win nothing if we don’t take those stairs,” she said, her frustration evident. “Can you clear the way?”

  “Easy.”

  He closed his eyes, visualising the thieves on the stairs, counting their number and summoning the energy for what he planned to do next.

  “Get ready,” he whispered, and he was dimly aware of Elaine rallying her remaining men, forcing them to prepare for a charge. They appeared doubtful, then stared, wide-eyed, as the furniture they were hiding behind began to tremble and shift, as if caught in an earthquake.

  With a loud shout, Lucius hurled the energy he had been building forward, and the furniture responded to his direction. Heavy chairs, desks and wardrobes flew through the air with deadly speed, crashing into the stairs and the thieves upon them. Most were crushed instantly by the force of the flying furniture, but a few were fortunate enough to merely have limbs smashed into bloody pulp. Their moans and screams were ignored by the cheering thieves below.

  “Up there!” hissed Elaine, and Lucius followed her gaze to the ruined stairs, to see Loredo surveying the carnage in the warehouse, his pointed beard quivering in either rage or excitement.

  “He’s mine!” Elaine said as she leapt forward and began leaping up the tangle of bodies and smashed furniture balanced precariously on what was left of the stairs.

  “I want Jewel!” Lucius shouted as he followed her.

  Elaine was a few yards in front of him, but where she leapt lithely up the obstacles to Loredo, Lucius found his greater weight was causing the ruined stairs to shift disturbingly, and he was forced to regain his balance time and again. He looked up to see Elaine draw her second sword, intent on duelling with Loredo, but the man smiled down at her as he produced a small hand crossbow.

  Screaming a warning, Lucius fumbled with a thread to block the bolt, blast Loredo apart or otherwise alter the course of events, but he saw he was too slow, as the crossbow was aimed at Elaine’s chest and fired.

  Flattening herself against the wall, Elaine’s twisting motion was almost a blur to Lucius, and he was forced to duck as the tiny bolt went skittering through the air past her and shot over his head. Giving no time for Elaine to recover, Loredo dropped his crossbow and drew a sword, a long, thin blade weighted for speed. Leaping down the stairs, he picked his way over the obstacles and broken bodies of his own thieves to confront Elaine. Balanced precariously, they traded blows in a fast display of swordsmanship, he with the advantage of height, she able to bring a second weapon into play to defeat his lightning fast thrusts without losing the momentum of her own attacks.

  Within the warehouse, the battle was turning in favour of the Hands, scattering the defenders and overwhelming them through teamwork and foul play. Someone had started a fire near the entrance, whether intentionally or not, and the warehouse was beginning to fill with smoke. Lucius could see there was little danger of the fire spreading out of control before it could be tended to.

  Looking back up the stairs, he willed Elaine to make the killing blow, ending Loredo’s life and allowing him to vault up the stairs to find Jewel. He was tempted to join Elaine and fight at her side, but he also knew his life would not be worth living if he robbed her of the kill.

  A terrible crash reverberated through the warehouse, causing the many fights to cease for a few seconds. Over on the far side, a tall stack of crates had been toppled, and thieves from both sides lay under the debris, calling out piteously for help from their comrades. Leaping across to the remains of a wardrobe for a better look, Lucius saw what had caused the crates to topple.

  Within the smoky shadows behind the scattered crates, he saw movement as a heavy trapdoor was swung open in the floor, and he recalled Grennar telling them of smuggler tunnels leading to the foot of the cliff. When he saw the scarred face of Jewel vault from the blackness within the trapdoor, he knew what was going to follow her.

  “Hands, to me!” he shouted as he leapt from the wardrobe. “Get behind me!”

  A few were quick enough to heed his instruction, while others were either cut off from reaching him, or too shocked by what they saw emerge.

  Moving with a terrible grace, Jewel drew her blade and began moving through the thieves, slashing out at anyone she did not recognise from the Guild, leaving a trail of broken and dying men behind her. Clawing their way from the lip of the trapdoor, Lucius saw scaled, black-eyed creatures, their talons black as the deepest night. One look at their fanged maws was enough to send thieves scrambling away, but the creatures moved with inhuman speed, claws snaking out to gouge bloodied chunks from any victim who strayed too close.

  The creatures began pouring out of the trapdoor, and Lucius rushed ahead, seeking to gain a vantage point. A score of the monsters had leapt into the warehouse before he clambered onto a table propped up against a pile of sacks, and more were slithering out of the open trapdoor. Bellowing a challenge, Lucius raised his arms to the ceiling and focussed on the energies he felt bubbling above. Some of the creatures looked up at him, their dark alien eyes puzzled as electric tension filled the air, its crackling just barely audible over the screams of the dying and terrified.

  The power he sought mastery over erupted, only just within the edge of his control, and the ceiling above burst apart in a shower of splinters and rafters as a bolt of lightning snaked down to explode within the darkness o
f the trapdoor. The shrieks of the creatures caught in the blast pierced the ears of everyone in the warehouse, galvanising those who kept their wits to flight. A few made it outside, but most were cut down by the creatures moving among them, or by Jewel whose expressionless face seemed all the more terrible in the half-light spilt by the remaining lanterns and growing fire near the main entrance.

  Exalted by the energy he commanded, Lucius shouted in a joyous rage as he saw the creatures move away from him, and he sent another bolt of lightning down into their ranks, then another, leaving charred and boiled corpses scattered across the warehouse, strewn throughout the human dead. More holes were punched through the ceiling as he brought lightning down from the sky and he directed the blasts back to the trapdoor as he saw more movement within, the creatures rallying for another attack.

  With a loud crack, another bolt descended, and he smiled as he anticipated the terror and pain of the creatures below, only to see the bolt shatter into a thousand shards of light a few feet above the opening. Bolstered by this failure, creatures started flooding from the trapdoor again, and he summoned the threads to his aid, intent on halting them in their tracks.

  A sharp pain blasted inside his head, and he reeled, feeling as though his mind was being squeezed by a giant hand. Staggering, he fell to the floor, trying to take in air, but discovering his lungs no longer worked as they should. Suddenly, the gripping agony was gone, and he sucked in precious breath, leaning against the table on which he had been standing for support as he tried to gather his mental energies to launch another attack.

  He raised a shaky hand, and fire rolled down his arm. With a flick, he sent the ball of flame flying across the warehouse towards the creatures now scampering toward him but, as he watched, it simply snuffed out of existence before it reached them. Frowning in confusion, he took a step back, raising his sword defensively, and he felt the threads of power twist out of his reach, seeming to fly away from his grasp at speed.

  The creatures started to circle round him and, as they parted, he saw one different from the rest. With greying scales, it walked with a stooped gait, and held a coral-encrusted staff upon which it leaned for support. Its eyes were milky and without any life, and yet Lucius knew the creature was watching him.

  Raising the staff, the creature pointed its end at him. The pain came once again, forcing him to the ground as he clutched at his head, trying to pull his own skull apart to relieve the pressure. He grabbed, helplessly at an elusive thread, even as his sword slipped from his twitching fingers, but the magic would not come to him. Lucius raised his head to stare up at the grey creature as it approached, shuffling its clawed feet across the stone floor. He raised a hand, hoping – praying – that so much as a tiny ball of fire would come to fingers. But just as the thread started to jerk towards his will, the creature waved its staff in a tight, circular motion. The magic just fled, disappearing into the darkest recesses of his mind. It was quickly replaced by the agony, and he screamed in pain and terror as he grovelled on the floor.

  Opening his eyes, Lucius saw a claw just inches from his face, and he looked up to see the grey creature staring soullessly down upon him. Its coral staff pointed down at his forehead. He was paralysed, utterly unable to order any of his limbs to move, and he began to gasp for air as his lungs and heart began, slowly, to shut down. Tears came to his eyes as the pain intensified and he tried to mouth a curse at the creature, but no words came.

  His world exploded then, and Lucius thought the end had finally come for him, that the light and sound was part of the journey to Kerberos where he would meet his family and roam among the clouds forever more as a free spirit. It was not until the greying creature collapsed next to him, its milky eyes ruptured and oozing a dark liquid, that he realised he was still alive.

  The pain and agony were gone, and with his heart pumping to restore the flow of blood to his body, Lucius managed to claw his way to his knees as he looked about him. It was a scene of complete chaos and carnage.

  Panicked, the creatures were moaning in a strange alien tongue as they ran, seeking shelter from something near the main entrance. He struggled to his feet to get a better look, but was forced back down as the warehouse wall behind the trapdoor exploded inwards, nails and shards of wood whipping through the air to shred the fleeing creatures. As debris rained down, Lucius saw four figures standing outside the warehouse, each gesturing at the creatures and each gesture followed by a wave of magical energy. Fire and lightning, stone and ice lashed out at the creatures as they were consumed by the onslaught.

  The figures walked steadily into the warehouse, annihilating any creature they saw and any human foolish enough to attack them. Lucius stared, open-mouthed, as he recognised Master Forbeck at their head, his genial face now a mask of hatred and vengeance as he wreathed himself in fire, sending out bolts of multihued flame to engulf every creature that dared to make its way past him.

  Near the main entrance, some of the creatures were trying to follow thieves out into the streets, but a solitary figure stood at the threshold, hurling ice and blasts of solid air at any that made the attempt, while planting a sword into any who survived the maelstrom, and Lucius cried out loud in relief when he recognised Adrianna. Stumbling across the warehouse, he ran to greet her.

  The battle was over within seconds, and an eerie silence fell across the shattered remains of the warehouse punctuated only by the moans of injured thieves. A few remaining creatures croaked as life fled from their dull eyes, and able-bodied thieves were only too happy to hurry them to their deaths.

  Breathing heavily, Lucius stopped as he reached Adrianna, who stared down at him imperiously, and he thought he might be in for another of her jibes or criticisms. Then she smiled, warmly.

  “One day, Lucius, you may curb your ability to get yourself into trouble.”

  “But not today,” a voice said behind him, and he turned to face Forbeck. The master was flanked by three young men and even if he had not seen their display just a few minutes earlier, Lucius would have known they were Shadowmages from the magic he sensed emanating from them. He realised he was standing before practitioners of great power.

  “What...” Lucius started. “Not that I am ungrateful, but what are you doing here?”

  Forbeck nodded to the corpse of one of the creatures, it’s back arched as though still in agony. “We heard a Shadowmage was in trouble, had brought more down upon his head than he could handle.”

  “You knew about these things?”

  “We suspected,” Forbeck shrugged. “And we had you as a witness to their activities previously. It bore further investigation. When Adrianna released herself from the Guild’s contract, it allowed us to take a legitimate interest in what was going on. Though we are still unclear on exactly what that is.”

  “This may help,” Adrianna said. As she stepped to one side, Lucius’ gaze was caught by a motionless form on the floor behind her. Jewel.

  “She’s still alive, though I suspect she may regret that when you take her back to your guildhouse.”

  “You are handing her to us?” Lucius asked, visions of vengeance suddenly flashing through his mind.

  “We are neither thieves nor inquisitors,” Forbeck said. “You’ll get more out of her than we will. I trust that, as one of us, you will keep us informed of anything we need to know.”

  Lucius turned back to Adrianna. “Thank you. I mean it. For everything.”

  She sniffed, avoiding his eyes for a moment. “Just remember your promise to me.”

  EPILOGUE

  THE SHADOWS CAST by the single lantern hanging in the centre of the low ceiling did nothing to hide the baleful malice of Jewel’s glare, the hatred she bore for all of them plainly visible. The greater part of her enmity she held for Lucius, the wreck of the left side of her face a twisted mass of burned and ravaged flesh. Her left eye seemed slow to react, but its twin was as fast as ever, seeming to almost glow with smouldering fury whenever Lucius walked in front of her.r />
  He was impressed. With the concoctions she had been plied with, recipes brewed by the expert interrogators of the Night Hands, the woman should have been barely conscious, mumbling truthful replies to every question set before her. Instead, she still spat curses, promising slow death to them all. Elaine was getting impatient.

  “Has she been trained to resist?” she demanded as she limped to Lucius’ side to stare Jewel full in the face. Her stomach was wreathed in bandages, the legacy of a single thrust from Loredo’s sword that had skittered across her lower ribs, smashing one. The guildmaster had fared far less well in their duel, falling to the ground with both of Elaine’s swords jutting from his chest. “Has she taken something that nullifies our potions?”

  Wendric shrugged. “Either is possible. Or both. For the latter, we may need to just wait for the effects of the counteragent to subside.”

  “We should increase the dosage,” Elaine said flatly.

  “No,” said Lucius. “She has already taken more than you or I could bear. And I want to know what she knows.”

  Folding her arms, Elaine regarded the other woman. “She’s playing us. We should move to more direct means.”

  Lucius guessed that Elaine had been itching to say that since they had brought Jewel into the bowels of the guildhouse two days ago. A few yards above them, in the common room and throughout the permitted areas of the guildhouse, thieves still celebrated, getting drunk and retelling stories of their rise to victory. The tales grew with each telling, but no one objected. From daring hits on the Guild’s enforcers to the final assault on the guildhouse, every thief had the opportunity to become a hero.

  Elaine had granted the Hands a week of celebration, but had made it painfully clear that open Council sessions were a thing of the past and that anyone defying her law as guildmaster would answer for it. She had been accepted smoothly enough, and even Lucius had avoided too many awkward questions, such was the elation throughout the guild. That, he knew, would likely not last.