Shard Knight (Echoes Across Time Book 1) (13 page)

Ronan grabbed the oil lamp and lit it.

The lamp flickered to life brightening the crypt with a faint yellow glow. Dark shadows twisted across the sarcophagi.

Rika’s posture eased. “Hold on a second, and I’ll shut the vault door.” She climbed the stairs, pushed the stone door closed, and rejoined Ronan in the vault.

“It feels good to say goodbye to that graveyard. Who’s buried in here?” she said.

“Jerryl Gulley and his wife. He designed and built the palace.”

“That’s funny. This piece of jewelry doesn’t look anywhere near that old.” Rika reached over and picked up a piece of carved silver in the shape of a bear’s head sitting atop Jerryl’s tomb. Her brow furrowed as she examined it. “It’s a cloak fastener.” She handed it to Ronan.

The ruby eyes set into the silver bear’s head gleamed beneath the lamplight’s yellow glow.

Goosebumps raised on Ronan’s arms, and his legs slackened. He slumped onto the stone bench and stared at the silver fastener.

“Ronan, what is it. What’s wrong?”

His hands trembled as he stared at the ornament. “This belongs to Master Tyrell. My mother had it commissioned for him.”

“So why is it here?”

“He left it for me. It’s the only thing that makes any sense. He knew I’d try to break into the palace using this entrance.

“But how is it here Ronan? He didn’t come in the same way as us. We didn’t see any sign of that outside.”

Ronan shrugged. “You can get here from the Shadow City. He might’ve come through that way.”

She knelt in front of Ronan and squeezed his hands. “That means he’s here Ronan. He’s in Freehold at the very least. And, he believes you’re alive.”

Ronan stood and tucked the fastener away in his pocket. “I wish he were here right now. But, I don’t know where to find him, and we didn’t make it this far to change our plans now. The longer we wait, the harder it gets.”

“He could help us Ronan. We could leave him a note.”

“No. We can’t do that. It’s too risky.”

“I think you’re wrong. I think you’re rushing into this.”

Ronan’s face flushed. “Too fast? It’s been five years Rika. Five years we’ve allowed that monster to play king. Five years without a word from your father. He’s stripping our freedoms and watching every move we make. For Elan’s sake, your own people aren’t allowed to practice their religion because of him. He’s a murderer, and I won’t let him get away with it a day longer.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “I know what Pride’s done, but we have to be smart.”

“I watched him butcher my mother! She bled to death in my arms, and I couldn’t do anything to stop him. Stay here if you want, but I’m killing that bastard tonight.” He started to stand.

She squeezed his hands. “Wait.”

Ronan paused before easing backward and settling onto the stone bench.

Rika closed her eyes and nodded. “I understand, and you’re not going to do this alone. I’m going with you.”

“We’ll find Patron after we deal with Pride. I promise,” he said.

“Okay. It’s settled. How do we get out of here?” She looked around the vault.

He faced the stone bench. “We’ll have to crawl for this next part.”

“Crawl?”

Ronan dropped to his hands and knees, crawled forward, and placed his palms flat against the smooth wall under the bench. “I hope this works.” Ronan pushed applying steady, even pressure, and the wall gave way. “Just a little more.” With a final push, the wall fell tipping inward with a heavy thud.

Cool damp air rushed over Ronan’s face.

“Rika, you’ll want that lamp. It’s dark in here.”

Rika took the oil lamp and placed it on the vault’s stone floor.

Ronan dropped to his stomach and inched forward. With his shard heightened eyesight, he cut through the veil of darkness.

Damp earthen walls lined a jagged tunnel that stretched twenty yards ahead.

Ronan stood and tossed aside the section of wall making room for Rika. He knelt and extended his hand. “Hand me the lamp Rika.”

She handed him the lamp and wriggled through the hole. Once free, she took Ronan’s hand and stood.

“This passage joins with others that crisscross Freehold. Stay close. It’s easy to get lost,” he said.

“What is this place?”

“It’s called the Shadow City. A network of rooms and passages running beneath Freehold. For centuries, it’s been used in many different ways. Most of them for no good. Slaves used it to escape the city, and slave traders used it to smuggle in Ayralens during the slave era. Now it’s used by thieves, drunks, or people looking to disappear. Occasionally, the city guard comes down here to sweep out the criminals and vagrants. Sometimes, an unlucky fortune hunter sneaks down here and gets lost wandering the passages.”

“Lost forever? You mean they die down here?”

“There are stories of ghosts that live in the Shadow City. If you believe that sort of thing.”

Rika’s eyes went wide. “Thieves I can handle. Ghosts I can’t. Do you know your way through here?”

“Well, let’s put it this way. I know my way to the palace. If we wander too far off the path it might get tricky.”

Rika inched closer to him. “Then don’t lose me in here. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said. “Let’s go.”

As they moved through the Shadow City, the passage twisted intersecting with small debris filled rooms. Forks in the passage forced decisions as did the occasional intersection. The tunnel’s floor shifted from stone to hard packed dirt. Trash heaps provided cover for beady-eyed rats that squeaked and scurried underfoot.

“This way,” Ronan said. “We go down these stairs and follow the passage to the left. Just past the room ahead.”

Rika placed her hand at the small of his back. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He descended the stairs and turned left.

Ahead, faint light came from the room around the corner.

Ronan froze and perked his ears stretching to pick up sound.

“Then I gave him to the count of ten, and you should’ve seen him run.” The man’s voice slurred heavy with drink.

“What happened next Sculley?” A second voice said.

“Shut up and let him finish,” another man said.

Ronan whispered into Rika’s ear. “There’s at least three men in the room ahead. We need to move through as fast as we can. Are you up for this?”

She placed the oil lamp on the ground and pulled her blades free. “I’m ready.”

“I’d like to reason with them before it comes to violence. You hide here.”

Rika’s eyes blazed with indignation. “Hide? What do you take me for? A girl? I can take care of myself Ronan Latimer.”

Ronan sighed. “Fine, fine. But, put those blades away. I’d rather just move past them.”

Rika sheathed her blades and picked up the lamp. “Alright, but at the first sign of trouble I’m bringing them out.”

Ronan channeled his power and directed an energy flow into his skin making it tough as armor. His body shimmered with yellow light that lingered before sinking into his skin. “Let’s go.”

The light grew brighter as the room came into full view. Huddled around a blazing fire, three men sat sharing a flask of liquor. The man holding the flask reclined in a makeshift chair built from broken crates and lined with dirty blankets. The other two men sat relaxed in similar chairs staring at the man holding the dirty flask.

Bottles, old chicken bones, broken bits of wood, and other debris littered the room.

Ronan relaxed. Vagrants. He strode into the dim firelight and paused. “Good evening gentlemen.”

The man holding the flask jumped, and clear booze spilled dribbling over his hand. “You always sneak up on people?”

“Sorry for the intrusion. We’re just passing through. You fellas can pretend like you never saw us,” Ronan said.

Three sets of hungry eyes ignored Ronan’s words and directed their stares on Rika.

“Look at her Sculley. I’ve never seen a woman that pretty. We can have some fun with her.”

“Shut up Vince. Is that any way to treat a lady?” Sculley stood and offered the flask to Rika. “Would you care for a drink? Don’t mind the mess. We were just having a little party. Come sit by the fire and talk. We have plenty to drink.”

“No. Thank you. As my friend mentioned, we need to pass through,” she said.

Sculley’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not very hospitable. We’re trying to be friendly.”

“Sculley, I don’t think we have enough drinks for everybody. How about we get rid of her boyfriend first. Then we can have some fun with the girl,” a voice from behind Ronan said.

Ronan’s chest tightened as he felt a sharp pinch in his lower back. He spun as Rika screamed.

A thin greasy man wearing an assortment of armor held a knife to Rika’s throat while another man lunged toward Ronan.

Ronan pulled the knife free from his scabbard and faced his attacker.

The hulking man attacking Ronan wore a mishmash of ill-fitting armor pieces that appeared scavenged from the depths of the Shadow City. He towered six inches over Ronan, but his expression conveyed one of shock as he stared with confusion at the broken blade in his hand. The dagger had snapped against Ronan’s shard toughened skin leaving bits of shattered blade scattered near his feet.

Ronan channeled his power tripling his strength, speed, and coordination. “Tell your friend to let the girl go, otherwise, this won’t end the way you imagine. I promise you that.”

The second thug ignored Ronan’s threat and joined the giant attacking Ronan. He jerked a steel short sword from a worn wooden scabbard and crouched into a fighting stance. “What happened to your blade Arvas?”

“I dunno,” the big man said. “It must have caught up in his armor or something. It might’ve been cracked. I’ll take his blade after he’s dead.”

Ronan’s hand blurred as he thrust his knife upward sinking into Arvas’s right eye. Before Arvas could react, Ronan yanked his blade free and spun on the bandit holding the short sword.

Arvas screamed in agony clutching his eye as he dropped to the ground. Blood poured from the cracks between his fingers. “My eye! He stabbed my bloody eye!”

The man holding Rika stared open mouthed as his friend writhed screaming on the ground. Rika reached for the blades sheathed at her legs, pulled them free, and sliced at the arm holding her neck.

Rika’s blade whiffed, as the man moved his arm releasing her from his grip. Once free, she spun and confronted her attacker.

The man leered, and a greasy smile spread across his stubbled face. “You like it rough. I like it rough too. Let’s see if you can use those blades.”

Her eyes blazed with ferocity, and a wicked grin stretched across her face. “What’s your name?”

“They call me Needles.” He pulled free a pair of poniards whose tips gleamed in the fire light.

She cocked her head. “Well Needles, didn’t your mother teach you how to treat a lady? You need to learn better manners.” She jumped up swinging her foot in an upward arc toward his face.

The tip of her boot connected with his mouth, and his head snapped back. Needles staggered backward as a gash of blood ran from his torn lip.

Using her momentum, Rika sent a back roundhouse kick at the side of his head.

Needles sidestepped the kick and counterattacked with a blade thrust to Rika’s chest.

She dodged, and the blade missed her chest sinking through her leather armor landing a puncture wound to her shoulder.

She screamed grabbing her shoulder as blood ran from the wound.

In a blur, Ronan burst across the room leaping toward Needles propelling his heavy boots into Needle’s spine.

A bone-jarring crack cut the air, and Needles fell in a heap as his legs no longer supported his weight.

The attacker with the short sword stood wide-eyed staring at Ronan in fear. His forgotten sword arm trembled. “What are you?”

“Run,” Ronan said.

The man dropped his sword and bolted. He disappeared around the corner, and the sound of his rattling armor faded into the Shadow City’s murky depths.

“Let me see your shoulder. Are you okay?” Ronan said.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” She moved her arm around in its socket.

“I think I’ve got a handkerchief we can use to tie it off.” He searched his pockets.

“Ronan! Look out!” Rika said.

Footsteps echoed behind him, and he dropped to the ground.

Rika sent her blade spinning end-over-end at the giant named Arvas. Her dagger landed with a sickening crunch sinking into Arvas’s left eye.

A guttural scream filled the small room. “I’m blind. You stupid bitch. You blinded me!” Arvas said.

“Are you still interested in partying with her? She might leave you so drunk you can’t see straight,” Ronan said.

Sculley stood motionless, the flask of booze still clutched in his white knuckled hand. “Look mister. I’m sorry for any trouble, and I sure don’t want any myself. How about you just pass through like you said earlier?”