The God King (Book 1) (Heirs of the Fallen) Page 20

  “We have a means to get in,” Azuri said. “A man who owes Kian a favor serves as a guard.”

  Ellonlef did not falter or balk. “Tell me your plan.”

  Hazad started off, but Azuri ended up doing most of the talking.

  Hya’s face was grim when he was done. “Whether Kian lives or not, you must return here. I know those who walk in the shadows, those who can get you safely out of the city.”

  Ellonlef impulsively hugged the old woman, then followed Hazad and Azuri out into the alley. The night air was colder than any she had ever felt, and low clouds shoved east by strong winds obscured the stars.

  “Snow will fall before first light,” Hazad predicted, as they crept toward the heart of the Chalice. There were a few patrols out, but they seemed more interested in staying warm.

  “A good snowfall may serve us,” Azuri said. “Folk hereabout have blood thin as wine. Colder it gets, the less they’ll want to be away from a warm fire.”

  “Then I hope for a great storm, even the White Death,” Hazad said.

  “What’s that?” Ellonlef asked, the mere name chilling her heart. She did not really want to know, but neither did she want a prolonged silence to fill her mind, allowing her to fret over what Kian must be facing.

  “The White Death is a fierce storm that blows out of the Whitehold,” Hazad said, creeping along. “Like the godless savages who live in those icy wastes, the storms that come out of their lands are deadly. Winds come first, cold enough to shroud a man in hoarfrost and turn his flesh black. Snow follows, ripping at you like small daggers, and building to the height of a man. If you’re caught outside without shelter, death falls swiftly.”

  Ellonlef shivered, trying to reason out how cold could blacken flesh. Distractedly, she noted that the normal crowds of the Chalice had vanished. The only people about besides them and the sporadic patrols, were a few enterprising sorts who had brought wagonloads of wood down from the mountains. Doubtless, they would fetch considerable profits for their effort.

  It took longer to reach Ammathor proper than it should have. The nearer they came, the more often they had to duck behind cover to avoid passing soldiers.

  Azuri eventually turned into a lightless alley down the road from their destination, and began rooting through a pile of litter. He drew out a sackcloth bundle and unrolled it at his feet.

  In the gloom, Ellonlef could just make out a pair of golden-trimmed green cloaks of the City Watch and two bronze helmets, one adorned with a plume of white horse hair, the other bare. A smaller bundle held a pair of thin wooden dowels, a ball of tacky resin, and a set of wrist shackles linked by a chain.

  Azuri glanced at Ellonlef regretfully. “To get in, we’ll need a prisoner.”

  Ellonlef held out her hands, pleased that they did not shake. “I wish Kian had listened to us,” she muttered.

  “And if wishes were sheep shit,” Hazad growled not unkindly, “we’d be up to our necks in it.”

  Azuri slipped the frosty shackles over her wrists, careful not to scrape her skin. Instead of bolts, he secured the shackles with the small wooden dowels, and used daubs of resin to hold them in place. “Don’t jiggle these too much. We cannot have them fall off before we need them to.” He looked in her eyes. “I should warn you, Sister, we will give no mercy to anyone who resists us.”

  Ellonlef accepted that with a nod. “I’m ready.”

  Azuri donned the garb of a Captain of the City Watch, leaving Hazad to put on that of a lowly sergeant. Before setting out, Azuri wrapped his cloak around Ellonlef’s shoulders. That should hide your dagger, eh?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but you cannot hide being Izutarians.”

  Hazad said, “Here in Ammathor, it’s not unusual for Izutarians to serve in the ranks of the City Watch—especially when our brethren will knock heads and swing a sword for half wages.”

  “Forgive me for any pain you might soon feel,” Azuri said to her, but offered no further explanation.

  When she bowed in acceptance, he took hold of the back of her neck, drew his sword, and propelled her to the road. From there, they moved toward the high stone wall securing the Pit. As the main gates loomed large, she wondered if they would ever get out of the hellish place, after getting in.

  Using the pommel of his sword, Azuri hammered at the sally port set within the main gate, and a grizzled solider opened a wooden panel and peered out. His hard gaze fell on Ellonlef, then rolled over the others.

  “What do you want?” he demanded, his wide smile ruining the ferocity of his voice.

  “Is all in order, Durrin?” Hazad whispered.

  “Better than we’d hoped for, with such short notice,” Durrin whispered back. “But us standing here jabbering won’t help.”

  Azuri’s grin was at odds with his angry shout. “I have a spy, you shitting whoreson! Open the gate, or I’ll report your wretched arse to King Varis himself!”

  Playing the part of a terrified subordinate, Durrin hurriedly swung open the sally port. “Have a care. Ixron, the head gaoler, is a vile bastard at the best of times. The rest of these dogs are better, but—”

  “But they’re not yet convinced,” Azuri interrupted, thrusting a clinking leather purse into the guard’s hand.

  Durrin measured the weight of it in his palm and nodded. “This much gold will earn you a lot of friends in here, Izutarian.”

  “Make sure of it,” Azuri said, pushing Ellonlef through the narrow opening.

  “I will, but for now there’s still Ixron.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Azuri said, even as the head gaoler himself emerged from a small brick building and strode toward them.

  Ixron’s green and gold uniform made him look more of a toad than did his ugly face and squatty girth. His dark eyes roved over Ellonlef with a lecherous gleam. “A spy is she?”

  “Indeed,” Azuri answered, giving no indication he would say more.

  Ixron twitched Ellonlef’s hood off to get a better look. His grin was vile and greedy. “Might be we need to interrogate the wench before we dump her in the Pit.”

  “Perhaps,” Azuri drawled, “you’d like to see your balls chopped off and presented to King Varis for disobeying his direct commands? His edict states that all spies are to be detained in the Pit.”

  “You bloody damned Izutarians are as unbending as oaks,” Ixron said with a scowl, and gestured for them to follow him.

  He led them to a squat brick building in the center of the yard, and opened its heavy wooden door. Sooty smoke puffed out on a gust of rancid air. Beyond waited a descending stairway lighted by a procession of guttering torches.

  “Well, go on and take the slut down!” Ixron snapped. “I’ve better things to do than stand here freezing my cock off.”

  Azuri prodded Ellonlef through the doorway and down the stairs, with Hazad coming after. The door slammed shut behind them. Ellonlef’s chest tightened with the inescapable fear that they had just been sealed into their tomb.

  The stairs ended at a wide, dirt-floored chamber. The rank air was warm and damp. The roughhewn rock walls smelled of horror and death, ages thick. Ellonlef felt as if the ghosts of thousands of damned souls were closing in, greedily seeking the heat of her life.

  “Are you ill?” Hazad asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said curtly. “Let’s find Kian and escape.”

  Azuri moved across the chamber to a door of rusted iron. “Open up!”

  There came a jangling of keys, then the door swung wide on squealing hinges. A ragged guard waited beyond. He looked like he had not eaten properly or bathed in years. “Gods cursed fool!” the man snarled at Azuri. “No call to yell. I can hear fine.”

  “Shut that rotten hole in your face,” Azuri said, “and take me to the Izutarian that was brought in at dawn.”

  “Why do you want to see that scum?”

  Azuri’s eyes narrowed. “Lead us to him.”

  Growling a curse, the guard reached for the battered hilt of his sword
. Hazad pushed by Ellonlef and Azuri, closed a great fist around the man’s throat, and slammed him against the wall. “When you’re commanded by a Captain of the City Watch, you obey.”

  After the guard nodded, Hazad threw him to the ground. Blinking dazedly, he rubbed the back of his head. His fingers came away bloody. “One day, you Izutarian bastards are going to pay for treating trueborn Aradaners this way!”

  “Are you deaf?” Hazad asked, relieving the guard of his shoddy sword. “Perhaps I should clean your ears with steel? No? Then shut your mouth and take us to the prisoner. King Varis wants us to give him something special.”

  The fool mumbled another curse, but Hazad dragged him to his feet and shoved him down the passage. Having no choice in the matter, the guard led them along a low corridor, bemoaning his split scalp the entire way.

  The first passage, lined with doors of rotting wood, ended at another iron door. The guard unlocked it, then faced the trio.

  “Beyond here, prisoners are free to go about as they will. Mayhap they’ll cut out your stinking tongues and eat them! While they’re at it,” he sniveled, glancing at Ellonlef, “mayhap I’ll have a go at that pretty piece there.”

  Hazad’s open-handed slap ruined the man’s lips and knocked out a tooth.

  Azuri pointed into the waiting darkness. “Lead,” he commanded.

  The guard looked ready to balk, but thought better of it. He locked the door at their backs, then led them on. When he glanced over his shoulder, Ellonlef saw his hate, and knew he would do something foolish, given half a chance. As long as he took them to Kian first, she didn’t care what he did later.

  The way was lit by fewer torches than the outer corridor, and their smoke made black cones of soot that ran to the ceiling. After a sharp turn, darkness waited ahead.

  “Where’s the damned lights?” Hazad growled.

  “You ought to know, Pit crawlers don’t need no light,” the guard said suspiciously.

  Azuri fetched a torch and returned. This time, the guard didn’t wait for an invitation, but set out on his own.

  As they moved deeper into the now winding passage, the fickle torchlight showed things Ellonlef didn’t want to see. Bones of all sizes shared ground with dried excrement. Frequent alcoves ended at blank walls, into which were bolted rusted manacles and chains. All of the bindings were free of living prisoners, but a few held old skeletons. The guard didn’t seem to notice the bones or the shit. Other than muttering about his split scalp, he seemed rather content.

  As he led them deeper the air grew ranker, damper, more oppressive. Ellonlef saw signs left from the days when the Pit had been a mine. Dry-rotted beams and rafters shored up the walls, but it seemed one wrong touch would send them crashing down.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Hazad demanded, after what seemed hours.

  The guard lifted his nose and snuffled at the air. “I can smell him. Fresh blood.”

  “If he dies before we reach him,” Azuri said, “your life also ends.”

  The man blinked stupidly. “Sounds like you want him to live?”

  Hazad reached out a second too late, his fingers snatching at the air where the guard had stood. Now he was running ahead, screaming a warning cry, despite there being no one to hear it.

  Azuri freed Ellonlef and tossed the shackles. “We have to catch him, or we’ll never find Kian.”

  The trio ran after the fleeing guard, who had fallen silent. After a few turns, they halted in another circular chamber. Ellonlef stifled a revolted cry, as wasted men scrabbled back from the torchlight like misshapen spiders. When Azuri pressed closer, they threw skeletal hands over sunken eyes. Most were naked, their bones pushing grotesquely against thin skin covered in sores. Their rough feet waded through swarms of rats and scattered bones.

  The guard stood at the far side of the chamber. “You’ll not have him! I’ll see you dead before—”

  Hazad rushed forward, kicking aside bony prisoners. In a panic, the guard thought to bolt one way, then changed his mind for the other. By then Hazad was on him, pummeling his face with a huge, knotted fist. After beating the man senseless, Hazad snatched away his ring of keys, and tucked it under his jerkin.

  Overlarge eyes bulged from the prisoners’ faces all around, and their muttering filled the chamber with an unpleasant buzzing.

  “Quiet!” Azuri roared.

  Silence fell immediately, and he stood with his head cocked. Imitating him, Ellonlef kept a sharp eye on the prisoners. Each alone was too weak to offer much of a fight, but all together...?

  Far away, the echoing sounds of an argument came to her ears. Hearing it too, Azuri and Hazad plunged down another passage, with Ellonlef hard on their heels.

  The passage led to a third chamber. Two prisoners, more robust than the others, hunched over an unmoving figure. One held up the figure’s blood-crusted arm, his lips peeled back to take a bite.

  “Gods good and wise!” Azuri breathed.

  The second prisoner lurched to his feet, wielding a sharpened leg bone.

  Roaring, Hazad charged the man. His sword came down in an arc, shattering the prisoner’s crude weapon and splitting his skull. The other prisoner scuttled out of range, making strange whining noises low in his throat.

  Kian lay on the floor, cloaked only in layers of dirt and dried blood. Ellonlef went to him, gingerly placed a palm against his chest. His flesh was cool, his heartbeat weak, erratic. He groaned, a flicker of recognition lighting his slitted eyes. His lips moved, but Ellonlef shushed him with soft, meaningless words. Tears fell from her eyes over the ruin of his body. What did they do to you? She had never seen or imagined such torture, and couldn’t understand how he had survived.

  “We have little time,” she said.

  “We’re taking our friend,” Azuri said to the gathering prisoners. There were dozens now. “If any of you follow us, we’ll make you into a feast for the rats.”

  Squinting against the torchlight, the prisoners weighed their choices, and surged forward.

  Azuri swung the torch and struck the first man in the face, and he began to screech as flames engulfed his head. Another prisoner fell on Kian’s leg with his mouth agape, and Ellonlef used her dagger to drive away the ravenous prisoner. He cowered back, growling at her.

  Hazad’s sword flashed, and the hairless crown of the man’s skull soared away like a crude bowl.

  Azuri, torch in one hand and dagger in the other, bellowed an unbroken stream of curses. He beat one man to the ground, and slashed another across the face. Even as he sought another foe, a fist-sized rock struck his cheek. Azuri staggered, but did not fall. With a brutal calm, he attacked again, his dagger and torch finding all likely targets, burning or cutting them by turn.

  Hazad focused his rage on those now scampering away. Despite his great size, he moved with the precision of a master painter, no stroke wasted or hedged. Blood flew in delicate drops from the slashing edge of his sword, splashing the dusty walls. A skeletal man reeled, attempting to hold his belly together, even as his guts boiled past his fingers.

  Azuri came spinning in, and a man’s deranged laughter became a bubbling gurgle when his head tottered back on the hinge of his severed throat.

  Through it all, Ellonlef guarded Kian.

  And then it was over, with most of the prisoners fled. Those who remained would never leave.

  “Gods good and wise,” Hazad whispered, looking to his motionless captain. “What did those bastards do?”

  “Not they,” Azuri corrected. “Others might’ve done the deed, but Varis commanded this.”

  “We need to get him to Hya,” Ellonlef said. “She has more healing skill than I do in my little finger.”

  With the gentleness of a father cradling a sickly child to his chest, Hazad lifted Kian. Ellonlef led the way, while Azuri took the rear.

  Ellonlef took the ring of keys from Hazad when they reached the first door back and unlocked it. After everyone was through, she locked it again. They cont
inued on until reaching the stairs and climbing up.

  At the top, Hazad slumped against the wall, still bearing Kian, while Azuri moved to the door. He glanced at Ellonlef. “Make ready. If Durrin holds to our bargain, all is well. If not, then we’ll have to fight until we’re free.”

  Or dead, Ellonlef thought, just managing to keep that sour little tidbit back. At her nod, Azuri began pounding on the locked door.

  After a few moments the bolt clunked back, and Durrin moved into view. He winced when he saw Kian held in Hazad’s arms. “You’re safe. I have a wagon ready, but you must hurry. The change of guard is due any moment, which leaves little time to clean up this mess,” he said, nodding toward a dead man lying on the ground. It was Ixron. His neck had been cut most of the way through.

  “What of the others?” Ellonlef asked.

  “Have no fear of them. As our friend there has always said, gold speaks with a powerful voice.”

  As proof of his assurance, a guard came out of the stable leading a horse-drawn wagon. All the rest of the guards made a show of studying the dark streets beyond the wall.

  Azuri and Hazad hastily placed Kian into the back of the wagon, and Ellonlef covered him with the cloak Azuri had given her. After a brief consideration, she crawled next to Kian and held him close. When her fingers pressed against his cold skin, she felt a strange tingle course through her. Strange but familiar…. She pushed that aside and focused on keeping Kian warm.

  After settling on the seat of the wagon next to Hazad, Azuri said, “We could use your sword, Durrin, if you’re of a mind to lend it.”

  Durrin drew himself up, his lined face hard. “Thanks but no thanks. I’m leaving Ammathor. This new king has convinced me that my soldiering days have come to an end.”

  Azuri glanced at the sentries on the wall. “These others?”

  “Thanks to your gold, they’ll take their leave and avoid King Varis’s wrath for allowing Kian’s escape.”

  “I wonder why he let him live at all?”

  “My guess?” Durrin mused thoughtfully. “To make him suffer a little bit more before he died.”

  Azuri nodded and clucked to the horse, and the wagon set off into the cold dark over Ammathor.