“You said there was a third,” Davel said.
“I can’t access the third.”
“Show us.”
Gavin backed down the hall and followed the other corridor. When he reached that door, he pressed the sword against it, but nothing changed. It was the same as when he had been here before, when he had attempted to push on the door to try to open it. There was nothing from it.
“I can’t open it, but I believe that the other lair I know is on the other side of this. It doesn’t open the same as the others, but I wonder if Cyran did something that prevented it from being able to open in that way.”
“Three sorcerers. Three lairs.” Davel stared at the door, tracing his fingers over it.
Zella stepped forward, and she pulled something from her pocket.
“What are you doing?” Gaspar asked.
“We need to see if this will work,” she said.
“If what will work?” Davel asked.
It was a slender blade, and it reminded Gavin of the El’aras dagger and the sword he carried. She pressed it against the door, but nothing happened.
She stepped back, frowning at it. “It was worth a shot.”
“What about the egg?” Davel asked. “If you’re right and it was a tool of the Triad, it would only make sense that they would have needed it to open their doors.”
Gavin had to wonder, and he reached into his pocket. Ever since the creation of the enchantments and the time he spent with Davel, he had kept the egg on him. He had been hesitant to store it anywhere, worried he would lose it. More than ever, if the Fates were after the egg, then he would have to find some way to protect it.
He held the egg toward the door. There came a soft hiss, which intensified as he pressed it against the door. Gavin twisted the egg, and then the hiss became something worse, a sound that filled his head and echoed within his mind. The door started to glow. It took on a faint white sheen, the color of Gavin’s sword and dagger when magic was used around him.
Could the door be somehow channeling magic?
What if he added his to this? It wouldn’t be any different than what he had done with the enchantment by calling upon his core reserves. Gavin took a deep breath, reached for that energy, then pushed it out through the egg.
There came an increasing surge, and the door exploded with light.
Gavin was thrown back. He cupped the egg against him, shielding it with his body to ensure it wasn’t damaged. He rolled over and got to his feet.
The door had been shattered.
He stepped forward.
Davel grabbed him. “Are you sure that’s safe?”
“I don’t think any of this is safe,” Gavin said.
He waited for a moment, and the others followed him. Stepping into the room, he looked around. The awful smell struck him first.
The smoke creatures had been here.
“This has to be the Triad,” Davel said.
“It does,” Zella said.
“You didn’t know about this?” Davel asked her.
She shook her head. “We’ve been looking, same as you, because we have long suspected that the Triad left items of power behind.”
Gavin looked around the room. Of all the spaces, this one was the most well-preserved. There was the lair he’d most recently found, empty other than the sorcerer’s bones. There was the other that had enchantments, but nothing that looked dangerous. And then there was this one, a place that had the sword Gavin now carried, among other items.
“What now?” Zella asked.
“I suppose nothing. I wasn’t really expecting there to be anything here, but that this actually is a lair of a Triad… The smoke creatures followed me here,” Gavin said. “I thought I saw movement when I was in this space, and by the time I got up to the upper level, I could still see movement, though I didn’t know what it was or what it meant. It wasn’t until I got outside the house that I started to see that smoke moving along the street. I ran into the forest, but it chased me in and back out, forcing me to run through the streets until I got to the barracks.”
“We can just give them the egg,” Gaspar said. “If it will protect the enchanters.”
Davel shook his head. “We don’t know that.”
“It seems to fit, though, doesn’t it? Everything we’ve found suggests that what Gavin is saying is correct, much as it pains me to admit that. And if he’s right, then we have to wonder if perhaps there is another connection we haven’t identified.”
“We will not give the Fate the egg,” Davel said. “In the meantime, we need to make as many enchantments as possible.”
“Now you want our help?” Zella asked.
“If we want to protect the city, we need to have it.”
Zella looked behind her toward the other enchanters before turning to Davel. She was dressed in a long cloak with dozens of symbols worked into the fabric—each one likely an enchantment, and each one likely some way of offering her layers of protection that she wouldn’t have otherwise. How many of the other enchanters had something similar? For that matter, Gavin wondered if he should have something like that. Maybe he would be better protected if he did.
“For now. A truce,” she said.
Gavin had to think that was beneficial, though he didn’t know if it would be in time. “We still need to understand these smoke creatures,” he said. “Someone who knew the power of the Fates.”
“If only the Keeper remained,” Zella said.
“The Keeper?”
“The Keeper of Records. When the sorcerers ruled the city, the Keeper of Records maintained an archive of sorts. If we had the Keeper, we might be able to find what we need.”
Davel sighed softly, glancing from Gavin to the enchanters before nodding. He twisted his shoulder slightly, and his mouth twisted in a sour line, as if trying to decide if he wanted to reveal some secret he had wanted to keep buried.
Davel clenched his jaw. “I might be able to help with that.”
“What?” Zella said.
“Come with me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Heading into the barracks for a second time was strange. The constables sat around at their stations and looked up when Davel entered, jumping to their feet when the line of enchanters poured in.
The inside of the barracks was not nearly as ornate as Gavin would have expected, given the level of its importance within the city. It had a low ceiling and stone walls, and somewhere somebody burned incense to push back the stale odor that still managed to permeate everything. There was also a dampness, as if some moisture seeped in through the stone. There was no upper level, as all the barracks descended far below the ground or far enough. Gavin had only seen the main entrance and the stairs leading down, though he suspected there were other rooms on this level that he had not yet observed.
“What is this?” one of the constables asked, eying Zella and Mekal.
“Easy, Thomas,” Davel said.
“Easy? Look what you brought in here,” Thomas said. He was a slender man with dark hair and a sharp nose. Several bracelets adorned one wrist—all enchantments. His gaze lingered on the enchanters, and his jaw clenched, as if he wanted to leap at them.
“I know what I brought here,” Davel said. “If I’m not mistaken, I still lead the constables.”
“Are you sure about this?” Gavin asked.
“No,” Davel said, nodding toward the stairs to the back.
Gavin descended the stairs with the others, and he glanced over at Davel. “You’re certainly having trouble with your people these days.”
“They will see the value in my leadership soon enough.”
“With too much change like this, you run the risk of rebellion.”
“I always run the risk of rebellion,” Davel said.
They headed deeper than they had the first time. Whereas the magical room where Gavin had worked with Davel before seemed to be quite a way beneath the ground, Davel descended even farther now. As they went, G
avin felt a sense of the walls starting to squeeze around him. There was a pressure, a buildup of energy, and he tried to fight the sense of claustrophobia pressing around him.
He’d been in worse places. Tristan had seen to that. He’d forced Gavin to experience tight caves and had even buried him alive at one point, all to try to get him over a fear of confinement. It had worked, though he still didn’t care much for it.
Gavin swept his gaze along the hallway, settling on each space before realizing what it was. “This is your prison?”
It was no prison like anything he had ever seen. It had to have some magical connection, some way for them to confine those who had power and ensure they didn’t cause danger to the constables or anybody else within the city.
“Such as it is,” Davel said and continued descending into the depths of the barracks.
Finally, they stopped. He led them forward, and they reached a narrow tunnel with a row of cells. He motioned for them to follow.
Their numbers had dwindled. Several of the enchanters had remained out on the street, and only Zella and Mekal had come down into the prisons with them. Davel had brought two constables with him, and Gavin suspected that they were both heavily enchanted. Gaspar and Wrenlow were there too.
Gavin stopped at one of the cells. The bars were smooth and slick, and they seemed to have some energy to them. He gripped them tightly, feeling the metal, trying to identify something more from it. He couldn’t.
“What sort of prison is this?” he asked.
“One that will hold anything of magical power,” Davel said. “You should be thankful we have something like that.”
“Something like the prison that holds those who can use magic?” Zella asked. “Such as a prison that would confine my people?”
“It does nothing to your people.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
Davel stared at her, saying nothing.
“Anyway,” Gavin said. “Where is this Keeper?”
“Not far from here,” Davel said. “Come with me.”
They hurried along the hallway, and they stopped at a cell near the back. Gavin looked in each of them as they went, but he didn’t see anything inside, just the empty cells. He could imagine that, at one point, these all were occupied by powerful magical users. When they reached the back of the prison, Davel motioned for him to look inside the cell at the end.
A single person sat on a cot at the back of the cell. Long, lanky gray hair hung down into their face. A dirty brown robe—or had it once been white?—covered them but looked several sizes too large. They were curled up into a ball, and they ignored the fact that any of them were out there. Gavin couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman.
“How long have they been here?” he asked.
“Ever since the war,” Davel said.
“You’ve kept them here this long?”
“They were with the sorcerers.”
Gavin couldn’t imagine being imprisoned for that long, what it must be like for this person to be held captive as long as they had been.
“What do you know about them?” Gavin asked.
“Not much. They haven’t spoken ever since coming here.”
“Not at all?”
“Not that any has heard,” Davel said.
Gavin couldn’t help but find that impressive. “So why did you bring us here?”
“You wanted to see the Keeper,” Davel said.
“But if they aren’t speaking, then there’s no point in us coming to them,” Gavin said.
“I figured somebody might be able to coax them into talking.”
Gavin chuckled. “What makes you think that anybody here would be any more effective at that than you have been?”
“I do not. Why don’t you ask her?” Davel said, nodding to Zella.
Gavin looked over at her, and she stared into the room, saying nothing. She looked through the bars of the cell, and she barely took a breath. Zella knew this Keeper.
“Who is this person?” Gavin asked.
“It’s… my mother,” Zella whispered. She looked from Gavin to Davel, her brow darkening. Her hands clenched at her sides, and her jaw worked as if she wanted to scream. “I didn’t know she even lived.”
“How could you not know?”
“She served the sorcerers. At that time, so many served them. They didn’t have much choice. When the war came, she tried to escape.”
“She didn’t try to,” Davel said.
“No, I heard word that she did.”
“I was there when she was captured.” Zella turned and glared at him. “You can blame me all you want, or you can blame your mother for her service to the sorcerers. Either way, I’m not the one at fault here,” Davel said.
Zella stared for a moment, and there was a look in her eyes, a question that burned there, and Gavin wished that he could help her. He’d lost his parents, and he understood the pain. And seeing that Davel didn’t seem to have any remorse for what had happened left Gavin angry with the constable.
“You captured her?”
“We had to drag her away from the others.”
“What others?” Gavin asked.
“There were others with the sorcerers. They all worked together to protect the Triad.”
“What if that wasn’t what they were doing?” Zella asked.
“I was there. They were doing whatever they could to protect the Triad.”
“My mother wouldn’t have done that,” she said.
“You may not want to believe that, but as I keep telling you, I was—”
“There,” Gavin said, watching Zella and noting the way she squeezed the bars of the cell. “You’ve made your point.”
“I’m not sure I have,” Davel said. “She doesn’t want to listen.”
“Because it’s her mother.” Gavin joined Zella at the bars of the cell. “How old were you when she was lost?”
“Fifteen,” Zella said. “Old enough that I never thought I’d see her again.”
“See if you can say anything to her,” Gavin said.
“What am I supposed to say?” She looked over at him. “What do you think I can say to my mother that I haven’t said in my head all these years?”
“You have questions. Now is your opportunity to get the answers you want.”
Zella squeezed the bars, but she didn’t say anything more.
“Let her in,” Gavin said to Davel.
“I’m not opening the door,” Davel said.
“Let her in. The Keeper is old. What do you think she’s going to do?”
“If she’s the Keeper, then there are many things she could do.”
Gavin could only shake his head. “She’s been here for twenty years. If she were going to do something, don’t you think she would have tried?”
“She has tried,” Davel whispered.
“What has she done?”
“We have lost many constables.”
A slight smile curved Zella’s lips.
“Let her in,” Gavin said again.
Davel hesitated, his hand resting on the bars to the cell. He squeezed for a moment, his knuckles going white. Then he reached down, sweeping his hand across the ground and pushing. An enchantment.
A door opened. There was a small release, and he triggered it from the outside, sliding the bars of the cell open ever so slightly.
The Keeper, Zella’s mother, leaped from the back of the cell, lunging toward them. She moved far faster than Gavin would’ve expected, given how old and infirm she appeared.
Gavin darted forward, putting himself between the bars of the cell and Zella. He swept the sword out and held it in front of him. The blade glowed bright white.
The Keeper looked at the sword, staring at it. “You,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper. It was the sound of paper tearing.
“Me?” Gavin asked.
“The Guardian should not be here.”
She lunged toward him, and Gavin twisted and dropped t
o the ground. He reached for her arm, twisting it up and locking it behind her back. Despite how she appeared, she was still strong. She writhed in his grip and very nearly came free.
Gavin continued to hold on to her wrist, trapping her arm behind her. He shoved her toward the wall. Zella cried out, but he ignored it. He had no choice.
“Your daughter is here,” Gavin whispered in her ear. “If you want a chance to speak with her, you need to calm yourself.”
She stunk. It was a mixture of urine and feces, along with a foul stench of body odor. Gavin would have gagged, but the urgency of the moment overrode even that instinct.
“Zella?” she whispered.
Gavin twisted the Keeper around, turning her so that she could see the dark-haired woman standing before her. “She’s there,” he said. “Now, if you want to have a chance to speak with her, then settle down. Otherwise, I’m going to force you back into the cell, and you will stay here for the remainder of your days.”
It was somewhat of an empty threat. Gavin wasn’t responsible for keeping her here, though she wouldn’t know that.
Slowly, the tension within her started to ease. When he was convinced that she wasn’t going to attempt to escape again, he released her arm and moved back toward the entrance to the cell, holding the sword in front of him.
She had recognized the blade. Regardless of what other answer they got, Gavin needed to find out what she knew about the sword.
“You’ve gotten so big,” the Keeper said.
“And you’ve gotten old,” Zella said.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I didn’t know it was you.”
“They held me.” The Keeper coughed, clearing her throat. Given that she had been trapped here as long as she had, and given that, from what the constables said, she hadn’t spoken in all this time, she probably wasn’t accustomed to using her voice.
“We need to know about the creatures made of smoke,” Gavin said to her.
The Keeper turned toward him, and as before, her gaze kept darting to his sword. When she looked up at his face, she finally registered a look of surprise. “You shouldn’t have that,” she said. “You are not them.”
The Fates of Yoran (The Chain Breaker Book 3) Page 21
