Assassin's Bond (Chains of Honor, Book 3)

by Lindsay Buroker

  Jhali scrambled upward into the shaft as Dak climbed higher. She glanced down at Yanko but didn’t thank him. At least she didn’t curse him either. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had uttered an indignant protest that she hadn’t needed help.

  Yanko lifted Lakeo, then followed in the rear, hoping that Dak wouldn’t run into trouble as he led the way upward. Yanko didn’t think they had to worry about opposition until they broke through the ground and into the dome, but it was always possible the local mage would sense them.

  Even though he was only using a tiny amount of power to keep the light glowing, his head continued to hurt. If anything, the stabbing grew more pronounced and constant. He was soon breathing hard, in part from climbing but more from fighting to manage the pain.

  “Yanko.” Lakeo glanced down, her face in shadow since the light floated up by Dak. “You sound like a dog on a hot day.”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t want to put forth the effort to explain. Beads of water—or was that sweat?—dripped down the sides of his face.

  “I’ve climbed as high as I can,” Dak said. “The fissure ends.”

  “I know.” Yanko sensed Dak resting on a ledge and wondered if there was room for all of them. “Let me come up and figure out the next best place to open a shaft.”

  Lakeo shifted aside with a grunt so he could climb past, his scimitar scabbard banging against his legs and scraping the rock. Levitation would have been easier, but he cringed away from the idea of using more magic. Why was it so hard right now? Something to do with his proximity to the dome?

  He bumped Jhali as he maneuvered up even with her. “Sorry.”

  She squinted at him—the light was brighter up here, so she could probably see the pained expression on his face. He tried to smooth it away and give her a quick smile.

  She grabbed his arm and helped propel him upward. As soon as he was level with Dak’s boots, Dak grabbed him and hoisted him up to the ledge.

  “Thanks. I need to figure out which way I can shift the rocks next.” Yanko wiped his brow, then gripped the cool damp rock for support.

  Dak eyed his face. “I would offer to use my explosives, but I’m less keen to do that when we’re inside the cliff we want to blow up.”

  Yanko decided not to mention that his magic could also bring down rocks if he wasn’t careful. “Give me a moment.”

  As he reached out, looking for another crack that he could exploit, he sensed something dense and unreadable. It wasn’t rock. It was an object he couldn’t identify, and it seemed to be in a cave or room deep underneath the fortress. Brushing against the object with his senses made his headache shift from manageable discomfort to intense pain.

  He gasped, and his foot slipped, pebbles shifting under it. Dak gripped his arm, steadying him before he could fall.

  “Careful up there,” Lakeo said, batting away pebbles that fell to her head and shoulders.

  “Sorry,” Yanko muttered, feeling like he was apologizing for everything.

  “What happened?” Dak hadn’t let go of him.

  Maybe he looked like he needed the support.

  “There’s something weird in that direction.” Yanko waved toward the rock straight across from them.

  “Weird? Magical?”

  “No, just weird.”

  Dak frowned in disapproval at this imprecise explanation.

  “It doesn’t feel like magic,” Yanko tried to explain. “More like it repels magic. Almost like an inanimate version of a mage hunter.”

  “We don’t repel magic,” Jhali said. “We simply block attempts to use it on us.”

  “Trust me, that’s repelling.” Yanko frowned thoughtfully at the rock wall. Dare he try sensing the object again? He doubted he could use any magic on it.

  “If something evil is repelling magic over there,” Lakeo said, “I suggest we avoid it.”

  “I didn’t say it was evil,” Yanko said, though he was inclined to think of it as such. The pain in his skull had lessened as he withdrew his senses, but his head still ached.

  “You almost fell down a shaft when you looked at it. Sounds evil to me.”

  “I want to get closer,” Yanko said.

  Lakeo grumbled something indecipherable.

  “Do you think it’s what’s creating the dome?” Dak asked.

  Yanko hesitated. If he said yes, that would justify creating a passage to it, but… “No. It was more like anti-magic than a source of magic. But it’s definitely not natural. Someone placed it there. It’s in some kind of room under the fortress. Like a very deep root cellar.”

  “A root cellar?” Lakeo asked. “Unless it’s full of potatoes, I don’t think that’s the right term.”

  “I don’t know the right term.”

  “Are there stairs leading to it?” Dak asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll… have to check again.” Yanko couldn’t hide the reluctance in his voice. He had been so repulsed that he hadn’t lingered, but maybe if he investigated around the object instead of prodding it directly…

  Reassured by Dak’s grip keeping him in place, Yanko reeled out his senses again. He skirted the object and examined the space around it, but he still felt intense discomfort. He could hear himself panting as the pain in his mind escalated again.

  “There are stairs,” Yanko whispered. “A very long set of stairs that leads into the fortress.”

  “It sounds important,” Dak said. “We had better investigate it.”

  “I’ll make a tunnel to it, but you’ll have to do the investigating. I don’t think I’ll be able to get close or touch it.” Yanko wondered how badly his head would hurt if he were in the room with that thing. It couldn’t kill him, could it? “But maybe you could cleave it in two with a sword.”

  “Or a bomb,” Lakeo muttered.

  She seemed to feel animosity toward the object, and Yanko wondered if she also sensed it.

  Yanko found a new crack that he could exploit. It wouldn’t get them all the way to that room, but it should get them close. As he sent his power into the rock, envisioning the two halves shifting apart, he wondered what would happen if he caused a cave-in atop that object.

  But his handiwork was smoother than expected, and he barely stirred the rocks to either side as he opened up a two-foot-wide passage.

  “That’s narrow,” Dak grumbled.

  “Maybe you’re thick,” Yanko said.

  “I bet Consul Tynlee hopes so.” Lakeo snickered.

  Everyone else ignored the joke. Yanko pulled himself across the fissure and into the new passage. Dak didn’t object to him leading the way. Maybe he was daunted by the idea of running into something that a mage called weird.

  As Yanko eased his way through the passage, he sent the light ahead. Again, the infinitesimal amount of magic needed to keep it glowing was a far greater demand on his mind than it should have been. As they maneuvered closer to the object, Yanko again felt that repelling feeling, more urgent and difficult to ignore than before. His stomach heaved, and he gulped air, struggling not to throw up. His new tunnel ran within three feet of the room, and by the time they reached that spot, he was panting again, sweat streaming from his temples.

  “Our powerful leader sounds like he’s going to die at any second,” Lakeo’s voice drifted up from the rear.

  “Dak,” Yanko rasped, slumping against the side of the tunnel. “Can you blow a hole through that without crushing us all or alerting the guards?”

  Dak eyed the rock dubiously. “If I set a charge, both of those things could happen. Do you truly wish to reveal our presence so soon? Not only would that endanger us, but it would endanger Tynlee and Arayevo. I know the consul has some magic, but there are dozens of soldiers in that fortress, aren’t there?”

  “Yes,” Yanko said glumly. “All right, I’ll do it.”

  There weren’t any handy cracks to exploit this time. Yanko glowered at the wall as he debated how to get through. He settled on churning the air as if it were a giant ice auger. H
e envisioned it cutting through the frozen lake back home, so Great Uncle Lao Zun could take Yanko and his cousins ice fishing.

  “I sense what Yanko was talking about,” Lakeo said while he worked, rock dust filling the air and making them cough. “Repulsion. Whatever is in there wants me to leave it alone. My head is hurting now too, and I’m not performing any magic.”

  That revelation soothed Yanko somewhat, suggesting the object was the reason for his headache rather than his use of his power. If they could destroy it, maybe he would be free to wield his magic again without painful consequences.

  His air drill broke through, and he grimaced, anticipating a surge of pain or the triggering of some kind of booby trap. But nothing happened. The room he’d bored into was dark and empty, save for the object.

  “I’ll go first.” Dak shifted past Yanko with a pistol in hand.

  Yanko was too tired and in pain to object. He wanted to crawl farther up his tunnel and throw up. But he made himself follow after Dak.

  “Light, please,” Dak said, standing in the dark room.

  “Did Dak say please?” Lakeo asked. “He’s getting downright friendly these days.”

  Yanko pushed his globe into the room with Dak, though he continued to experience that intense feeling of repulsion, a desire to get out of there and also get his magic out of there.

  The light revealed Dak standing and gripping his chin as he gazed at the single object in the room. A waist-high dark blue stone cube with depictions of animals carved into the sides. At least, that was what Yanko thought adorned it. Looking at it created more pain, like daggers plunging into his eyes, and he soon jerked his gaze away.

  “Crude artwork,” Lakeo remarked with a sniff. “I’ve seen prehistoric cave paintings with more dimension.”

  Yanko stumbled to the wall and threw up, doing his best not to hit anybody’s shoes. Or his own.

  “Yanko agrees with my assessment of the art,” Lakeo said blandly.

  Jhali took a step toward Yanko and lifted a hand, but she paused, her gaze riveted to the cube. “I recognize that.”

  Busy with his stomach’s rebellion, Yanko did not look over again. Lakeo rubbed her temple and turned her back on the cube, the only hint that she also felt discomfort from it. Maybe the degree of discomfort correlated with the power of the mage.

  Could the mages imprisoned in the dome feel it? Maybe this was what kept them from using their power to break out. The idea of being exposed to this all day and night for months on end made Yanko throw up again.

  “You’ve seen it before?” Dak asked.

  “It was stored in the artifact vault in the lower cave of our sect,” Jhali said.

  “You grew up in a cave?” Lakeo asked. “No wonder you’re so grumpy.”

  Jhali intentionally ignored her or didn’t hear her at all. She was still staring at the cube, as was Dak, as if they didn’t feel the revulsion roiling off the thing at all. Maybe they didn’t.

  “I was only permitted in the vault once,” Jhali added, “but I distinctly remember admiring the stone.”

  “It’s granite.” Lakeo waved dismissively. “Admittedly, blue granite isn’t common, but the stone comes in a lot of colors.”

  “Something was done to it by the original mage hunters long ago, something to keep mages from entering our territory.” Jhali frowned at Yanko. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be better after Dak blows that thing up,” Yanko panted, wishing there were dirt that he could kick over his mess. He didn’t mind Dak seeing him puke but had a notion that women shouldn’t be subjected to such things.

  “Blow it up? It’s an ancient artifact.” Jhali scowled. “And they stole it from my people. Is this why they attacked my sect in the first place? Because someone told an outsider that the artifact was there and might be useful?”

  “It could have been an inside job,” Lakeo pointed out.

  Jhali’s scowl deepened, though it seemed to be for whoever had concocted this plan rather than Lakeo. “If Consul Tynlee’s contact was accurate, the entire sect of mage hunters was destroyed—killed—or imprisoned.”

  “Dak?” Yanko whispered, hating that his voice came out pleading, but he was on the verge of throwing up again, and there was nothing left in his stomach. The pain had spread from his head through his entire body, and he couldn’t stay here long unless that thing was destroyed.

  “Is it booby-trapped?” Dak walked around it, eyeing it from all sides. “With magic?”

  “No,” Yanko said. “I don’t think anything magical could touch it.”

  Dak prodded it with a finger. Nothing happened.

  “Thus reaffirming that Dak is not magical,” Lakeo said.

  “We knew that.” Dak laid his hand on the top of the object. “It’s definitely Nurian. These look like depictions of your animal gods that I’ve seen before.”

  Yanko shook his head, not caring who had made it or what it had depicted. He glanced toward the tunnel he’d made and also toward steps that led up into the fortress. One way or another, he needed to flee soon.

  “If I blow it up, we have the same problem as before. People will hear it.” Dak leaned his hands against the cube and pushed.

  It scraped heavily a few inches across the stone floor, then halted. He shoved again, but it didn’t budge. A snap came from inside the cube, and Dak jumped back. A hint of smoke wafted out from underneath it, the air smelling acrid.

  His brow furrowed as he eyed the object. Yanko would have taken that as a sign to leave the thing alone, but Dak crouched down, wrapped his arms around it, and hefted it upward.

  His face turned red from the effort, but he slowly and carefully lifted it from the floor. Orange light spilled out from underneath it, and Yanko abruptly sensed magic. A Made artifact.

  As Dak set the cube—the hollow cube—aside with a clunk, Yanko stared at an orange sphere on a bone pedestal. Two black cables snaked out of attachments on either side of the sphere and disappeared into the stone floor.

  With the cube removed, Yanko had no trouble using his senses to trace those cables. They ran through underground conduits that had been hollowed out with magic. Earth magic. Was there someone here with powers akin to his?

  “Those run to smaller versions of that—” Yanko pointed from the cables to the sphere, “—on opposite sides of the dome. I think the artifacts are working together to create the dome.”

  “I have no problem with you destroying that, Turgonian.” Jhali flicked a finger at the sphere.

  “Dak,” Dak grumbled.

  “Why does everyone in your group insist on such familiarity?” Jhali asked Yanko.

  “We’re a cozy bunch.” Yanko might have said more, but his stomach was still heaving and roiling.

  Setting the cube aside hadn’t made it stop oozing that repulsion.

  “I can destroy it,” Yanko said, concerned that Dak had removed his pack. He didn’t know if it was possible to blow up something magical with mundane explosives, but he feared the backlash would bring down the ceiling. And there was at least twenty feet of solid rock between them and the first level of the fortress. “It could make a lot of noise and unleash a lot of power. Everyone should get out of here while I do it.”

  “And leave you to be crushed by a rock fall?” Dak asked.

  “Better just me than all four of us.” Yanko forced a wan smile, though he suspected his face was paler than Jhali’s mage-hunter garb. “I’ll try not to let that happen.”

  “We can see if Arayevo and Tynlee are in trouble or are doing all right.” Lakeo eyed the ceiling—there were already slender cracks in the stone from whatever settling had happened over the years—and headed for the steps.

  Jhali and Dak hesitated. Yanko waved them toward the stairs. He was touched that they didn’t want to leave him to get himself killed—and surprised that Jhali, in particular, would hesitate—but he also felt like he was close to passing out. He needed to hurry and do this so he could get away from that odious mage-hu
nter artifact.

  “Go. Please. If I don’t do this soon, I won’t have the strength.” Yanko looked pointedly at the blue box.

  Dak frowned and shook his head. “You don’t look like you have the strength now, Yanko. You go with the others, and I’ll figure out a way to destroy it.”

  “Trust me when I say I have a better grasp on how to destroy something magical than you do.” The last thing Yanko wanted was for Dak to be crushed to death by rubble while the artifact survived intact.

  Dak scowled, his feet rooting to the stone.

  “Go, Dak,” Yanko said, making his tone as firm as possible and throwing magical mental coercion in, though he highly doubted it would work on Dak.

  He was right. Dak didn’t budge.

  “I need you on the outside to unbury me if I collapse the roof on myself,” Yanko said, trying a different tactic. “The ladies are not engineers.”

  Dak scowled more fiercely, but he jerked a nod, seeming to accept the argument. He waved for Jhali to follow him and trotted up the stairs after Lakeo.

  Jhali didn’t follow immediately. She met Yanko’s eyes, hers dark and concerned, though whether for his safety or for that artifact or something else altogether, he didn’t know. Her lips parted, as if she would speak.

  As miserable as he was, Yanko caught himself noticing her lips and that she was an attractive woman. He wished he hadn’t vomited in front of her. Fortunately, she was looking at him instead of at the ground. What did she want?

  “Do not destroy our artifact,” she finally said, then whirled and ran up the stairs.

  “I doubt that’s even possible,” Yanko muttered, eyeing the distasteful thing.

  Dak had left it resting on its side, the hollow interior on display. Yanko’s stomach gurgled at the sight of the blue granite.

  He jerked his gaze away and focused on the sphere and those cables. It occurred to him that if he could cut them, that ought to break the flow of power and knock out the dome. Could it be that simple? Maybe there wouldn’t be as much magical backlash from that as there would be from channeling enough power into the orb to cause it to explode or burn out.