EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (14 page)

Of course he’s coming back
, she said to herself.
He showed up three times in one day yesterday. It’d be too much to ask that he stay away from his precious artifacts for more than a few hours
.

Sara heard Ezekiel say, “Yes, actually, I do.”

She turned an impatient gaze on the man who loitered by the door.

“Well, do you plan to enlighten me?”

“No, I was going to let you stew for a few more minutes.”

“Ezekiel!” She could feel her power slipping as she lost her concentration.

“He won’t be by until mid-afternoon,” he said. “Today’s the black market lords’ meeting. They’ll have to decide who will take over the west thief lord’s district, actually, so he might be away until mid-afternoon. Severin, I believe was the thief lord’s name. Nasty man died in an alley fight, apparently.”

“Did he now?”

Sara turned her attention back to the wall and gathered her power for the burst. “When I say ‘go,’ run out of the building as fast as you can.”

“Are you going to blast us to smithereens again?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she said, turning a wry glance on him.

He paled and raced toward the door.

“Don’t go through yet!” she shouted.

“Why the hell not?” he shouted back, inches from making his exit.

She sighed in irritation. “What I’m about to do will lock
both
of our physical signatures into the building. After I do it, the only way to get back in to the place without dying will be for a person to be with one of us. Since you’ll be alone, you’ll
need
this coded to you to get back inside.”

“Oh,” he said. “What happens if I don’t have it?”

“I’ll tell you later. Get ready, but don’t move out that door until I say so.”

She looked at him fiercely and he nodded. As she turned back toward the wall, she noted with amusement that he was bouncing on his feet like a runner about to take off in a sprint, straight for the door.

Sara turned her concentration inward and counted down in her thoughts. Each count was set off by a distinct pulse as she thrust her battle magic into the heart of the warehouse.

Five
. Pulse.

Four.
Pulse.

Three.
Pulse.

Two
. Pulse. She hurried to grab a piece of Ezekiel’s aura and tied it together with her own. Setting her battle magic countdown to the last pulse, she knew she was no longer needed inside the building.

It would spread like a shock wave.

Whirling toward Ezekiel, she started running and shouted, “Now! Get
out
.”

One.
Pulse.

He needed no further warning and shot out of the building like a rabbit. By the time she’d crossed the threshold, he was halfway to the fishery.
 

She stopped five feet from the doorway and screamed his name. “Ezekiel, come back!”

He didn’t stop until he felt flat on his face. When he got up and turned around to look, she thought his nose was bleeding, but she couldn’t tell for sure. She waved a hand to summon him back and turned back toward the warehouse from where she stood. Using her mage sight, she saw the whole building pulse brilliantly with a wave of color, the blue of her own battle magic, and a dark, muddy brown that she assumed was Ezekiel’s essence. The wave subsumed the whole building and came together like a bubble closing on the center of the front door.

As the bubble closed, a panting and bleeding Ezekiel came to rest by her side.

Breathing hard, he rested his hands on his knees and looked at the door. “What did you do?”

“Sealed the building to anyone, magical or mundane, except us.”

“You can do that?” he sounded mildly impressed.

“It’s an arcane war tactic,” she admitted. “And not usually sanctioned in civilian life.”

“Why not?” he said, standing up. “It’s just a residence protection shield, right?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s known as death’s touch.”

He opened his mouth and closed it flatly. “You put
death’s touch
on a warehouse?”

“Yes,” she said, not sorry. “Anyone else who touches that door and tries to get into that building will die immediately.”

She turned to walk down the path. Ezekiel followed behind her stumbling, “
Anyone?”

“
Yes.”

“Including Cormar?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not going to like this.”

“Nope.”

“Think he’ll touch it accidently and die anyway?” Ezekiel sounded hopeful.

“It’s a spell with a distinct feel; any mage worth half their salt will know what it is. There’s a warning keyed to the door, too. It’ll give off a light buzz and a feeling of dread will overcome the intruder. If that doesn’t stop them, then they’re idiots.”

“Right,” Ezekiel said, shouldering his backpack and they waded into the street. “So, where’d you learn how to do it?’

“My father.”

“Your father sounds like he was awesome.”

“He was,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“So what’s the plan?” he said as they dodged a rather shady looking lump of fur, teeth, and dirt.
 

“We get in, get the files, hire a replacement, and get out before midday,” she said simply.

“I
knew
that,” he whined. “I meant how do you plan on getting in through the mercenary guild’s doors? You basically said you’re
persona non-grata
amongst the fighters, and, well, they don’t really like me anymore.”

That statement set off warning bells in her head.

They had turned on to a street heading east. She stopped abruptly and slammed a hand into Ezekiel’s chest. Pushing back until he stumbled against the wall behind him, she stared up into his face.

“What are you doing?” he gasped. He didn’t look panicked, just shocked. It probably helped that she hadn’t pulled out any weapons or threatened him. Yet.

Passersby flowed behind her as her dark orange eyes met his helpless brown ones.

“I need to know exactly why they hate you so much and if they would recognize you on sight,” she said tensely.

He spluttered.

She cut him off. “No ifs, ands, or buts about it, Ezekiel. This plan to infiltrate their compound and get the files will not work if you don’t come clean. What’s more—I will not risk getting thrown into the stocks for not knowing that you’re a wanted criminal.”

“I’m not a criminal,” he squeaked.

She narrowed her eyes at him as the wind whipped her long black curls, currently pulled back into a ponytail, into her face.

He stared at her with a cross look.

She wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. And she would if he didn’t speak up soon.

“Ezekiel,” she snapped, “I do not have all morning.”

He pursed his lips and said, “I might have stolen something from them.”

She let him go and stepped back. That was it. They were parting ways. She didn’t need this.

But still she didn’t move as his pleading eyes met hers.

“What did you steal?” she finally asked.

“A playbook,” he said guiltily.

“What kind of playbook?”
 

“The kind that lists all military troop movements across the empire.” His voice was quiet as he looked around nervously.

She stared at him as if he was a man possessed. No one was that stupid. No one.

“What in the seven gods did you want with a military playbook?”

He fell back against the wall with his shoulders slumped. “I told you I was hard up for cash a few years back. I sold it to the mages.”

A million thoughts were running through her head at the moment.

“That’s treason. You know that, right? Giving the playbook to the Kade mages is
treason
.”

He stuck his lower lip out. “I never said I gave it to the Kade mages.”

“Excuse me?” she said, staring at him aghast. “Why would the empress’s mages buy a playbook of their own troops’ movements?”

“Because it’s like I said before,” he said flatly. “The empress is resource poor. She’s hired militia and mercenary personnel to fill a lot of empty slots. Empty slots that include officer positions on the warfront. Let’s just say the empress’s mages aren’t too happy about that. They don’t trust the mercenaries one bit.”

She let out an irritated sigh. “Tell me one thing.”

He looked at her hopefully.

“Why aren’t you dead? You live in the same city from where you stole the bloody handbook, and from what you’ve told me, the mercenaries would recognize you. You
worked
there for some time, after all.”

“
Might
recognize me. I was only there long enough to case the place. A few weeks at most. Besides…the mercenaries never caught me stealing their precious handbook. I was too good. I just happened to leave at the same time it disappeared, so they suspected me a little more.”

“Why would you do that?” Her voice sounded mystified.

He shrugged. “I had other problems at the moment.”

“More problems than a thousand mercenaries raining fire and brimstone down on your head for stealing their intelligence?”

“You could say that.”

She stepped back. “My, my. Ezekiel the mysterious thief.”

He shrugged. “Anyway, the mercenary’s guild has the same turnover rate as the silk weaver’s hall.”

She got the reference. Silk weavers were notorious perfectionists and the head of the silk weaver’s hall in Sandrin was excessive in that trait. A lot of young lads and ladies went into the trade and left weeping in the first week after bearing the brunt of her harsh teachings. Which meant Ezekiel had probably left his job at the same time as half a dozen other mercenary staffers.

Focusing back on the present, Sara wished she had a new partner go in with her. But they didn’t have time, and there wasn’t anyone in this city she trusted to help her anyway.

“Fine, let’s just try to avoid anyone who recognizes you.”

He nodded quickly. “Easily done. I worked in the supplies and maintenance department. We’re going to records. It’s on the other side of the guild hall.”

She had a bad feeling about this. But they were too far in and she needed her father’s records too much to turn back now. They kept going.

Chapter XII

S
OON
ENOUGH
THEY
WERE
JUST
outside the central plaza of Sandrin. It was so named not because it lay directly in the center of the city, but because it was the largest plaza in the capital city and housed the organizations central to the city’s governance.
 

As she entered the plaza from the people’s street, Sara walked up a long ramp until she reached the pinnacle of the incline. While standing on the broad marble pathway, she looked down at the apex of power. The plaza was a rectangle-shaped depression in the ground with a promenade of columns to the left and right. Beyond the columns the stairs arced up from the base toward the triad of power in the empire. On the right was the mercenary’s guild, an imposing structure with towering colonnades. Directly across from it and to the left was the magistrate’s court. Staring straight ahead, Sara watched the morning sun light the palace of the empress in red, gold, and orange rays.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Ezekiel.

“Stunning,” said Sara with a voice like stone.

Ezekiel caught the tension in her voice. “What is it?”

She stared down at the base of the stairs to where a single pole with chains lay in the distance.

“This is where they proclaim traitors to the empire,” she said. “This is where my mother and I heard the citywide pronouncement that my father had been executed for his crimes.”

Ezekiel was silent. For a moment longer she took it all in. Then they turned to go along the broad pathways to reach the petitioners’ entrance to the mercenary guild.

When they got there, a normal-looking man with a helmet on and a bored expression in place said, “Name?’

“Sara Fairchild.”

“Occupation?”

She was silent for a moment.

“Occupation?” he repeated impatiently.

“Fisherwoman,” Ezekiel exclaimed from beside her while studiously avoiding looking up. With his head hanging down and his shoulders slumped, he looked like a depressed stork. But the lackey didn’t question him.

“Purpose for entering the mercenary’s guild?”

“Hire of a new watcher for the fishery,” she said.

He nodded and scribbled it down. Then he handed her two medallions on a rope. One was painted red. The other red with blue stripes.

“Here, this will grant you access to the guild records room for hiring purposes.
Nowhere else
. If you are found without those medallions or outside of those areas, you will be detained.”

The way he said “detained” made it sound a lot like “tortured and killed.”

He looked down at her impatiently. “Got it?”

“Got it.” She was quick to confirm.

“The red one is for you, as the primary party responsible. The man with you is your charge. If he gets into trouble, it will be on your head. Do you understand?”

Still Ezekiel didn’t look up.

“Yes,” Sara said.

“Yes,” squeaked Ezekiel.

The man said, “Put them on now. Yours first, and you put his over his head.”

She didn’t ask why. She knew why. It was a military tactic used on prisoners. The medallions were objects called symbiotic rings. The wardens liked to make sure prisoners behaved well. Each prisoner wore one that was linked to the others about their necks. If one prisoner was punished for a transgression, they all felt it. But the symbiotic rings had an even more sinister purpose in their design. They could be used to kill. Ezekiel was now beholden to her. Anything
he
did wrong,
she
would suffer for from the moment she put that medallion around his neck to the moment they left the mercenaries’ headquarters.

Her hands didn’t tremble as she put them on.

The man watched her carefully. Satisfied, he nodded her through the gate. Sara stepped forward into the training yard and marble halls of the empire’s most famous guild. The hall of men and women with the power and the skills to protect the empire. She knew that more battle mages resided under this one roof than resided in the whole of the rest of the empire. It was awe-inspiring and terrifying. Not the thought that she could meet more people like her. She already had. No, the thought that had her quaking in her boots was the fact that if something went wrong, she might have to face two or more battle mages in a fight to get out of here.