City of Scars (The Skullborn Trilogy, Book 1) (14 page)

“Or won’t,” Blackhall said coldly.

“Or won’t,” Harrick agreed.  “Ebonmark isn’t the only place we do business, you know.  We’re bigger than the Guild, and our influence carries far.”

“I know all about it,” Blackhall nodded.  “Kaldrak Iyres, Raithe, Bloodwind…the Phage is everywhere. But all that concerns me is Ebonmark.  If the Phage won’t work with me, there won’t be
any
crime cartels left in this city, even if I have to call in half of the White Dragon Army and every Veilwarden I can to make that happen.”

Harrick watched him with cold fury in his eyes as he stood up.  “So we help you, and in return you help us get rid of the Black Guild’s hold over Ebonmark.  What about the other criminals in the city?  There are independent crime lords, black market dealers, brothels and slave traders not associated with the cartels.  I want them gone, as well.” 

Blackhall thought about that for a moment, but only for a moment.  “Done,” he said.

“Good,” Harrick smiled.  “Now understand this, Colonel.  The Phage will help you, but only because it benefits us to do so.  If you play with us, you
will
get burned.  If you go back on your word, you will die.  And if you try and act against us I will personally cut out your heart and piss on it.” 

Gess and Slayne both looked ready to finish Harrick off right then and there, but Blackhall raised a hand to still them.

“Is that right?” he said.

“It is,” Harrick replied with a smile. 

For some reason Gess laughed. 

Goddess, that man is strange sometimes,
Blackhall thought.  “Then we have a deal,” he said.  “We’ll let you know what we need.”

“Perfect.”  Harrick pulled a rolled-up parchment from the folds of his cloak.  The paper was new, and he tossed it across the stream so it landed at Blackhall’s feet.  “There’s something for free.  Call it a token of good faith. Now…on to our
other
business.  Do you have them?”

“Like the Colonel said, we’re not stupid,” Slayne said.  He knelt down, picked up the parchment and handed it to Blackhall.

“The blades are in a safe place,” Blackhall said.  “We didn’t think it would be wise to bring them with us tonight.  I trust you have the item
we’re
interested in?”

“We’re not stupid either,” the burly Narr spat as he nursed his wounded shoulder.

“Good, good,” Gess said.  “So we’ve established no one here is stupid.  But this is one matter we need resolved
tonight
, so let’s make the arrangements, shall we?”

Blackhall was about to speak, but Harrick cut him off. 

“Be back here at midnight,” he said.  His tone made clear he wasn’t open to negotiation.  “We’ll make the exchange then.”

Slayne looked like he was going to say something, but at that moment Gess jumped like a snake had crawled up his leg.  His eyes went wide with surprise.  “Fine,” he said to Harrick.  He seized Blackhall by the arm and whispered into his ear.  “Something’s happened…we have to get back to the tower.  Now.”

Fifteen

The Empress’s lap dogs disappeared up the ladder.  The Veilwarden conjured a cloud of grey mist to dissuade any attack while they departed.

Harrick watched them leave.  His throat burned, and the taste of his own blood clung to the inside of his mouth.

You’ll pay for that.  I promise you will.

“Are you all right?” Tydith asked.  For all of her imposing presence, Tydith always tried to mother him, which drove Harrick mad.  He shoved her away.

“Bastards,” Narr growled.  “I’ll have their eyes, I swear it.”

Harrick said nothing.  Though the Veilwarden’s show of power had taken him by surprise he knew they’d do
something
to try and intimidate him.  It had taken every ounce of his patience to endure Blackhall’s bravado, but it worked.  They’d played right into his hands.

It won’t be long now.

He had potions to mend his throat.  The wound was a minor irritation compared to what they’d accomplished that night.  With Blackhall’s aid the Guild’s presence would quickly be removed from Ebonmark, and that would greatly please his superiors.  More importantly, Harrick would soon have the
thar’koon
. 

It was risky trading a Stone shard to the Jlantrians, for it was no secret that the White Dragon Empress possessed vast magical abilities, and while giving her more power wasn’t necessarily in the Phage’s best interests it would be worth the trade, for the
thar’koon
would finally allow the Phage to hunt down the Dream Witch.  All of their resources had failed to uncover the artifact weapons, but every competent eye and ear in the Phage had confirmed Colonel Blackhall had somehow come into possession of the blades. 

Harrick was close now, and with this success his advance in the Phage was all but assured. 

And then, Colonel, I’ll make
you
choke on a blade.

Sixteen

Shadows clung to the stairs like webs, and the place was as silent as a tomb.  Worry clawed at Ijanna’s gut – why would Blackhall leave the inside of his stronghold so unprotected?

The lower levels of the small citadel held only bedrooms and general storage filled with locked chests and burlap sacks.  Ijanna made her way to the uppermost floor.  She sensed the presence of the Veil, and its shadowy threads were wrapped around every piece of stone, nestled in every crack and crevice.  It felt like death, and made it seem as though the walls were closing in on her.

Ijanna’s heart pounded with every step.  She couldn’t stop shaking. 

Calm down.  You’ve been in worse situations than this
. 

She focused her mind and found her anger.  She thought of the killing fields, of the bodies that would never be buried.  Her fear melted away like ice.

If I’m going to die it’s going to be on
my
terms. 

The stairs finally came to an end at an oak trapdoor in the ceiling.  Ijanna Breathed the Veil into the iron lock to shift the tumblers to their correct positions, then pushed her way up into the room.

The space above was dark.  Ijanna released a breath of fire the size of her fist, which soared around like a flaming bird until it found roost in a cold brazier at the center of the room.  A rush of dim flame crackled to life and illuminated the cluttered chamber.  She climbed up and closed the door.

A pair of long benches flanked a small table.  Short cases filled with books and crumpled scrolls lined the dark walls, and various weapons and shields were mounted on brackets.  A half-empty bottle of wine and a set of recently used goblets accounted for the room’s heady scent, and a number of maps lay unfolded on the table.  There were no windows, as had been the case in the rest of the tower…she could only surmise Colonel Blackhall liked to spend his time in the dark.

Ijanna carefully crossed the room.  Dice, old shoes and sheets of parchment littered the floor.  The air was silent but for the crackling flame.

A tall chest of lacquered oak set with heavy iron bands rested under the table.  Ijanna reached out to open the chest, and hesitated.  The Jlantrian Colonel would never leave them unprotected unless he had absolutely no idea what they were.  Even then, their appearance suggested great monetary value, and only a fool wouldn’t take precautions.

Ijanna Breathed the Veil onto the chest.  No trap was sprung, and not a single thread of Veilcraft reached out to assail her.  She tried the latch, and it wasn’t even locked.  Ijanna took a breath and opened the chest, and saw what she’d come for.

The trap door crashed open behind her.  Ijanna’s heart jumped into her throat. 

A white-haired man dressed all in black rose from the portal in the floor.  His armor was layered with
ring’tai
, and a short spear was slung across his back.  He moved with the speed and grace of a cat, and before she even knew what was happening he leapt over the table and came at her. 

Adrenaline pumped through her veins.  Ijanna raced across the room and away from her pursuer.  Metal sliced through the air, and she heard a
ring’tai
clang off the wall. 

Her eyes focused on the stone ahead.  Ijanna reached for the tiny metal sphere in her belt pouch, a gift from Bordrec.  Angry voices and heavy footsteps sounded behind her, and Ijanna heard weapons being drawn.  She threw the metal ball ahead of her as she ran.

The
scythesphere
struck the wall and silently flashed with a brilliant burst of silver light.  A large and perfectly round hole appeared in the stone, just large enough for her to fit through.  The cool night air hit Ijanna’s face. Another
ring’tai
sliced close, and she heard its razorine hiss as it whizzed past her ear. 

Ijanna dove through the hole and into the open air outside the tower.  The bright blaze of tents burned below.  Bordrec had come through with his distraction: they’d set a fire at the edge of camp.

But they’re early.

She fell.  For a moment Ijanna hung suspended, and her body seemed frozen.  Her stomach lurched, and her cloak rippled like confused wings.  She fell, and Breathed the Veil to slow her descent. 

Ijanna saw a flash of white and silver.  She twisted her body around so she fell feet first, and the Veil did the rest.  Her boots touched down and she went heel to haunch, barely winded from the fall.  Light from the blaze loomed like flaming ghosts in the murky night.

She only made it a few steps before a sickeningly sharp pain scorched across her back.  She fell forward, into darkness.

Seventeen

“How in the hell did she get inside my tower?!” Blackhall demanded.  Captain Dringol was a young officer, and yelling at him made Blackhall feel like he was chastising his own son.  “Well?!”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I…”

“Oh, shut up!” Blackhall shouted.

He turned away and looked through the strange hole the intruder had somehow made in the wall to his chambers.  Ruby clouds hung frozen in the dark sky, and the stench of extinguished flames thickened the air.  He left Dringol quivering by the table and looked down at the spot where she’d fallen, where Slayne had struck her with a
ring’tai
. 

The place where her body should be.

Slayne was searching for her now with his Black Eagles.  Gess stood next to the hole with Blackhall, his lean face basked in the eerie half glow.  Chill wind blew through the opening and shifted the papers and blankets on the floor. 

“Dismissed, Captain,” Blackhall said.  “I don’t want to see your face again tonight.”  Blackhall waited until Dringol was gone before he spoke to Gess.  “So?”

“She took the blades we were supposed to trade to the Phage for the Empress’s prize,” Gess said.  He sounded distracted.  “The worse thing is, it was
her
.  Goddess…I hope Slayne didn’t kill her.”  Gess kept his eyes on the ground far below where the girl had fallen.  The Veilwarden often had that distant look, like he wasn’t really there.

“Are you sure it was her?” Blackhall asked.

“No.  Not sure.  Not yet.  But I think we have to consider the possibility.  No one else knew we had the blades.”

“Except the Phage,” Blackhall said angrily.  He should’ve let Gess kill that little bastard Harrick when they’d had the chance.

“True, but let’s not jump to any conclusions.”  Gess still hadn’t taken his eyes off of where she’d fallen.  “Assuming they weren’t the ones who stole the blades, what are we going to tell them?  Harrick expects a trade, and he won’t part with what the White Dragon wants until we give him the
thar’koon
.”

“I’ll deal with him,” Blackhall said.  “You help Slayne find the woman.  One way or another, we’re getting what we want from our good friend Harrick.”  Blackhall balled his fist.  “No one breaks into my tower.”

He left Gess there by the window. 

“What was on that parchment Harrick gave to you?” the Veilwarden called after him.

Blackhall had forgotten all about it, and at the moment he didn’t care.  Regardless of what Gess thought, Blackhall was still convinced the lady thief had been sent by the Phage, a way to get what they wanted without paying for it.  He’d continue to believe that until proved otherwise, so he pulled the parchment out of his coat and tossed it to Gess; the mage suspended it in mid-air with a wave of his hand, and it gently floated over to him.  Blackhall was almost out of the room when Gess called him back.

“Colonel?”

“What?” he said.

Gess had a wide smile on his face.  He dropped the parchment on the table.  “An old friend of the White Dragon Crown is here in Ebonmark,” he grinned.  “And Harrick just told us where he is.  Oh, I can’t wait to tell Slayne, this is too…”

“Who is it?” Blackhall asked.

“Azander Dane,” Gess smiled.

Blackhall gnashed his teeth.  This was getting worse by the minute.

Eighteen

He carried her upstairs. 

Her limp body had gone cold, but her blood ran hot down his chest.  The old steps creaked loudly as he made the ascent, and the lamp in the hall was dim.  The smell of soup still hung in the air from another dinner he’d missed.  He heard the rain beat against the windows. 

His head throbbed with pain, his fingers and face were covered in sweat, and he was so weak he could have collapsed there in the hall and slept for a month.

But not yet.  He’d slept enough, and he had to help her.

Kath Cardrezhej kicked open the upstairs door.  Drogan wasn’t asleep yet, though his hair was a mess, and he looked haggard and weary.  He sat alone on the bed with an open book in his hand and nearly jumped out of his skin when the door burst open.