The Shadowmage Trilogy (Twilight of Kerberos: The Shadowmage Books) (36 page)

His eyes snapped open as the power bubbled violently over the brim and with a wide sweeping motion, he flung fire at the nearest guardsmen. A giant sheet of flame tumbled toward them, its green and purple hues making it look almost tame. As it reached them, it turned white hot and the men were incinerated where they stood, the trailing wake of fire leaving only blackened and shrivelled corpses. Their weapons and armour were melted into slag by the terrible heat.

Only narrowly missed by the fires, von Minterheim leapt forward, the tip of his sword aiming true for Lucius’ chest as the surviving guards rallied behind him. Only barely aware of the danger, Lucius continued to let the magic flow unchecked, and he felt himself raise his foot before stamping it down hard. The earth rocked as tremors radiated out from him, throwing captain and guard alike to the ground, their feet kicked from beneath them by the force of magic rippling below.

Scrabbling for weapons, they looked up to see Lucius glaring down upon them, the fury in his eyes replaced by something altogether more primal, smouldering in its release. He sought out von Minterheim from the tangle of weapons and limbs, and his gaze bored into the man’s eyes.

“You cannot conceive of the power you have unleashed,” he heard himself say, then shuddered as he felt the darkest of threads push itself to the fore, snaking out from his outstretched hands to slither over every man who still drew breath before him.

The strangled shrieks of the guards tortured his ears and drew the attention of everyone left in the courtyard. They grasped their throats as their skin turned deathly pale, the life being sucked out of their bodies. Lucius watched as von Minterheim tried to tear off his breastplate with fingers that rotted as they pulled uselessly at the clasps. Flesh dropped from his hands in blackened chunks, leaving only bone, as the skin drew taut across his face. Hair greyed and fell to the ground, while his eyes lost the sparkle of life, dulled and then hardened. Then the screams fell silent.

Full consciousness returned to Lucius, and he retched as he felt the dark energy pulse through his body. Dropping to his knees, he vomited. He could smell nothing but death, and it seemed like a poison in his veins, charring every part of his being and staining it forever. He spat to remove the foul taste from his mouth, but it felt as though nothing would remove the darkness that gathered in his body and mind.

Standing, he took a shaky step forward, trying hard not to notice the shrivelled corpses that lay all around him. But their sightless eyes seemed to catch his, the dark husks accusing him of a crime humanity had no word for. He felt his stomach heave again, but he continued his march, limping with exhaustion and disgust at himself. Glaring at the remaining guards he passed, Lucius dared them to move against him. After witnessing what he had done to their captain, none did.

The gate was closed as he approached it, and he cast about, looking for a guard to intimidate into opening it, but they had begun to flee back into the keep. He eyed the wooden barrier, knowing he had no strength left to summon the magic, and little desire to give free rein.

The air became agitated around him, and he felt a gale sweep past his body, the current running just inches from his skin, leaving him unmolested. The wind seemed to be formed from a sweeter form of magic, and he felt physically charged as he bathed in its purity, the sickness of his soul slowly receding. Taking a deep breath to savour the feeling, he watched the wind now whistling with shrieking hurricane force, smash into the gate. The timbers exploded in a shower of splinters, leaving the wrecked gates hanging by ruined hinges. Beyond, the streets of Turnitia lay as they always had, a scene of complete normality somehow removed from the devastation of the courtyard behind him.

He felt Adrianna’s presence before he heard her footsteps.

“I said you had potential,” she told him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I swear to you,” he said when he found his voice, “I am never doing that again. The magic is... evil. Black. We are not supposed to be using it, not like that.”

“Don’t you dare blame the magic for that! The power you manifest is a reflection of you, and you alone. That darkness is a part of you, and the sooner you realise that, the more powerful you will become.”

“I don’t want it,” he said plaintively.

“Not your choice. Right now, you need it.”

Damn her, Lucius thought. He knew she was right.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

M
URDER EXPLODED ACROSS
the city.

The surviving Hands were astounded at the stories coming from the Citadel: Captain von Minterheim slain in the cruellest fashion, the corpses of guardsmen littering the southern courtyard like so many rag dolls discarded by a precocious rich girl and powerful magic unleashed against their enemies. Many presumed that Lucius had forged an alliance with great wizards, or brought mercenary warlocks into their guild’s employ. A few guessed the truth, but their suspicions were over-ridden by a new feeling of optimism among their fellow thieves.

For the first time victory seemed possible. Maybe even likely.

There was little opposition to the next phase of Lucius’ plan, and no attempt on his part to curb the enthusiasm of the more bloodthirsty thieves. In the morning after the assault on the Citadel, he unleashed the Hands into the city while the Vos guard were paralysed and the Guild was reeling from the loss of its greatest ally.

Working in concert with the Beggars’ Guild, shambling mounds of filth-ridden disease providing accurate descriptions of where targets could be found, the thieves hunted down their enemies and showed no mercy. They killed collectors working extortion rackets, their bodyguards and any client known to sympathise with the Guild. They killed enforcers, lookouts, spies, fences, anyone remotely connected with the Guild and who might raise opposition to the new swing in the balance of power. The assault on the Vos guard continued, with a dagger or crossbow bolt launched from a high rooftop or dark alley to strike down sergeants and corporals. The net closed, with the Hands leaving nowhere for Guild men or their supporters to run to. Everyone in the city knew what was happening, and those with no interest in the outcome – the thousands of ordinary traders, craftsmen and their families – kept clear of the streets, not wanting to inadvertently be caught up in the slaughter. The Vos guard, by now, were powerless to protect them.

Throughout the day, a constant stream of beggars reported to Grennar, now permanently stationed at the Hands’ guildhouse. They were bringing back vital information of the Guild’s response, allowing the Council to pull their own men away from areas of the city where thugs and mercenaries prowled, looking for the chance to repay the Hands for the blood being spilt. All the time, the beggars tracked the movements of Guild men until, finally, they were ready to reveal the expected location of Loredo’s new guildhouse.

As evening approached, a final Council meeting was called, attended by every thief not still wetting his blade with the blood of the Guild. The mood was jubilant, for the day had seen the Guild all but cut down. Now, just the final stroke remained, the last attack that would see their enemy smashed forever.

All eyes were on Grennar as she outlined what her beggars had learned of the Guild’s last hiding place.

“They’ve retreated to the docks,” she said. “Their operations have always centred in that territory, ever since it became a no-go area for you.”

“I heard they had demons on their side,” one voice from the crowd said, and was greeted by a few nervous murmurs. “That’s what put paid to Lucius’ operation.”

“You’ve been drinking too much, or else listening to old wives’ tales,” Nate said scornfully. “They employed mercenaries who took Lucius and his men by surprise.”

Lucius was aware of Ambrose among the thieves, his eyebrows arched questioningly, and he sighed.

“We will be walking into the heart of our enemy’s territory this evening,” he said slowly. “They will be at their most dangerous, cornered, afraid and desperate. I would not have you walking into their lair without knowing the truth.”

The council chamber was suddenly still, and a few of the older thieves leaned forward to catch every word. Lucius ignored the eyes of the other Council members, especially Elaine, who frowned at him dangerously for withholding any information from her.

“Magnus knew what happened, and he swore myself, Ambrose and Sandtrist
–
the only other thief to survive that evening
–
to silence. We knew the Guild had brought new allies into their fold, but we knew nothing of where they came from or what they were.”

“They are truly demons, then?” asked the same voice.

“I don’t know,” Lucius confessed. “I know they are not human, that they came from the sea. That they have brutal strength and are utterly savage. How the Guild contacted them and negotiated an alliance, well, I don’t know that either.”

“So, what do we do if they are waiting for us?” Nate asked.

“Run,” Ambrose said.

Lucius nodded. “That is fair advice. From what we saw, the further they are from the sea, the slower and clumsier they become. Even so, you don’t want to be anywhere near them when they attack. They slaughtered almost my entire team within a few minutes.”

“Then the Guild might still win?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Lucius said. “I have some ideas. If they appear, get out of the way and leave them to me.”

“And what makes you so special, Lucius?” Elaine asked. “We have heard strange tales from the Citadel. If the Guild has brought these terrible creatures onto their side, who or what have you brought onto ours?”

He hesitated. “That is a topic for another time,” he said, finally.

More mutters floated from the crowded thieves, and they were not charitable ones. Elaine leaned forward in her seat to look Lucius straight in the eye.

“If we are trusting you with our lives, Lucius, we all deserve to know who and what we are fighting for.”

He returned her gaze for a moment then, deliberately, turned to the thieves in front of them.

“You are fighting for your lives and continued prosperity,” he said evenly. “As for myself... I have brought you all this far. I ask you to continue trusting me for one more evening. After that, I’ll tell you what I can.”

The thieves were far from happy with that. Once, seemingly a lifetime ago, a word from Magnus would have silenced any dissent, and each thief would be content with knowing what he was supposed to know and no more. Now, with every thief able to take part in the Council’s meetings, they all wanted to know every secret. Muttering turned into open growls demanding Lucius reveal what he knew, to answer for the rumours of what happened in the Citadel. Of whether he was in league with Loredo.

“He doesn’t have to tell us anything,” a clear voice said, riding above the noise of the other thieves, and he saw that Grayling had walked out from the crowd to stand between the thieves and the Council’s table. “Lucius broke us out of the Citadel and, without him, I can truly say I would not be standing here now. I would be dead, either by the neck or with a Vos sword in my stomach.”

“Aye,” said Ambrose, standing forward to join her. “I brought Lucius into the Hands, and fought alongside him against these sea demons. I tell you all, if he had meant to betray us, he has had plenty of opportunity before now.”

“Before Lucius killed the captain of the guard, we were ready to huddle in this place like trapped rats,” Grayling said. “Now look at us! We are on the eve of victory, and still you want to quibble!”

“He has the support of the beggars too,” Grennar spoke up.

The testimonies to Lucius’ character made him feel a little uncomfortable, but they were sufficient to silence the thieves. To his right, Elaine stood up.

“The Council, at this time, agrees,” she said, looking pointedly at Wendric and Nate, who both got to their feet to stand alongside her, though Nate hesitated for a second, appearing reluctant to do so.

“We proceed with the plan,” Wendric said. “Tonight, we win the Thieves War.”

His words gained a few grumbles of grudging assent from the thieves, but if he had been expecting to rouse cheers of support, he was disappointed. Lucius nodded his thanks to Wendric, but his eyes were drawn to Elaine, who had fixed him with a doom-laden stare. He knew that if anything went wrong this evening, he would find one of her daggers planted in his back when he least expected it. Either way, she would be demanding a full explanation from him.