Dark Legion (45 page)

“Why, waiting for you,” Malakai said.

“Why here?”

“Because I thought you would come here.” Malakai said.

“Did you, now?”

“Tell me then, why are
you
here?” Malakai asked.

“Stop it, you old goat,” Neysa said. “You already know of the hidden vault. That's why you waited here.”

“Of course. I knew you were clever, dear. Though I am surprised you made it this far. Alive.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Neysa said.

“Seeing as you have been waiting here,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “I am sure you have gone ahead and figured out how to get to the vault below the bed, yes?”

“Of course, my dear.” Malakai walked to one of the bed posts, turned the knob at the top, then pulled it toward him. There was a low grinding noise, probably a counterweight, as the bed slowly rotated. A narrow slot appeared, barely wide enough to fit a person, revealing steps that plunged into darkness.

“After you,” I said, gesturing for Malakai to go first. Malakai nodded and started down the stairs, Neysa close behind him. At the bottom of the steps was a wider passage which we followed to the end. I was getting sick of dead ends. Marcus walked past Malakai and Neysa and shoved at the wall. Unlike the previous one, it did not budge.

“What now,” Marcus asked.

“It
appears
to be a dead end,” Malakai said.

I walked to the wall and looked at the others over my shoulder. “There is magic at play here. It covers this wall.” I watched Malakai for a reaction, but none came.

Neysa pushed past me, laid her hand to it, then nodded to herself. She ripped at the air in front of the wall. There was a dull flash of light, then the wall was replaced by a metal door. Neysa put a hand against the wall to support herself, and Marcus ran forward to take her arm. I found the door locked, of course, but shrugged and rummaged in my satchel.

“That was… very well done,” Malakai said. “Good job, my dear.”

I fished the lock picks out and kneeled down in front of the door. The lock proved much less challenging than the one on the empty vault. I found that ironic. It took a couple of minutes, but I soon heard the final click, tried the door, and found it unlocked. The room beyond was disappointingly small compared to the previous vault, though it contained a great deal more.

Its contents lay scattered across the room. Little care seemed to have been taken to organize it. I walked through it slowly as I scanned the various chests. There were many. Neysa walked to a wooden shelf filled with books, ran her finger along the many volumes, and picked out manuscripts. Marcus followed close behind me, and Malakai stood at the door.

I had a hard time reading the man's expression. Concerned? Puzzled? Marcus shoved me aside, and I stumbled and came close to falling. I held a hand against the wall and glared at Marcus, but Marcus was too focused to look back. He knelt against the wall and held something, his face pressed up against it. When he spun around, tears flowed from his eyes, and he held a blade out for me to see. It was a sword blade, but the hilt was missing.

“My father's blade…” Marcus croaked. “I last saw it that night… when he tried to defend the King of Prylea.” He stood up quickly, grabbed a tapestry from the wall, and wrapped the blade. He tied it to the outside of his scabbard and sat on a chest, resting his face in the palm of his hands.

Neysa walked to Malakai and handed him a stack of manuscripts. He looked surprised. “The books you wanted,” she said. He nodded and turned the spines toward him to see.

I finally spotted the chest I was looking for. Its image was burned into my mind, the roaring lion carved into the lid. Unfortunately, the image of it burned along with my home and my mother and father, the memories too tightly woven to separate. I ran my hand along the top, feeling the rough carving beneath my fingers. I had spent so long dreaming of this moment that, now that it had arrived, I found myself scared, reluctant to open it in case it should disappoint. I took a deep breath and undid the latches. I opened it a crack, peering in. A smile nearly split my face in two, pulling on my tender skin and hurting my bleeding gums.

The ring lay in one corner. I slipped it onto my finger, a perfect fit. The lion, jaw open with the bright red stone fixed in its teeth, looked up at me. I could swear I heard it roar in my mind. I felt a slight prickling on my skin, too—an emotional response, I was sure.

I next picked up the crown. It was a simple golden band with several large stones set into it and an engraving on the inside. “We are the lion that stalks in the grass,” it read. The crown was made to be worn into battle and did not resemble the large ungainly things that many kingdoms preferred. I put it into my satchel, along with a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

“Okay, let's go,” I said.

“Are you sure this is
all
you want?” Malakai asked. I looked around the room, then to Marcus and Neysa, and shrugged. “Very well, then,” Malakai said and walked out of the room. When Malakai was at the top of the steps, he froze. I pushed past him, and as I did, I noticed the old man mouthing something. I jerked my head around to face the same direction as Malakai. The princess stood in the door. She looked furious.

“It's okay, dear,” Malakai said. “Everything is okay.”

I elbowed Malakai in the throat. The old man gasped for air as he fell and tumbled down the stairs along with the manuscripts he carried, and I heard Neysa swearing as she fell, too.

“Nooo!” The princess screamed.

I turned the knob on the bedpost and pulled it down. While the lever was down, I stomped on it—once, twice, three times. The post snapped near its base, and I threw it at the princess as she pulled up her sleeve, exposing the silver tattoos. I hit her square in the chest, and she fell. As the stump of the post rose to its vertical position, I heard the grinding noise again and I rushed down the steps. Milliandra cursed behind me.

“Gods. What are you doing?” Marcus shouted.

I did not respond, instead running to Malakai, who was on his hands and knees, still gasping for air. I drew my dagger and plunged it into the old man's back in one quick motion, putting all my weight behind it. As the blade punctured the man's back, three screams rang out: Malakai's, that of the princess, and that of Neysa. I looked over my shoulder and saw the princess for an instant before the opening disappeared behind the mechanism.

Marcus kicked me off, and I lay sprawled next to Malakai and Neysa. She pulled the dagger from him and pushed the old man over onto his back as she sobbed. She snarled at me, hatred burning in her eyes, which flicked between the dagger and me. “Why?” she hissed through her teeth.

I gestured toward the old man, but did not speak. A moment later, there was a dull flash. Malakai vanished and was replaced by emperor Solas. Neysa leapt back, a shrill squeal escaping from her. She continued to crawl backwards until she hit the wall, her eyes wide. I mounted Solas and looked into the man's eyes. He no longer resembled the man I had seen at the festival; he actually looked his age. I had had a feeling about him since we had entered the bedroom. While some magic pulsed from him, it was as nothing compared to the real Malakai, and I recalled Neysa saying that Solas only had abilities in illusion. Well, illusion failed with a knife through the lung, it would appear.

I had so many questions for him, most starting with “why,” and while my mouth opened twice to ask, no words came out. Too much anger, too much hatred stood in the way. This man had made me a slave, stolen my brother, burned my parents, destroyed my kingdom, and treated my people like cattle.

I punched him in the face, again and again, until my knuckles bled. When that failed to satisfy my hatred, my hunger for revenge, I grabbed him by his ears and smashed his head into the stone floor.

He either died, or passed out with the first blow, but I did not stop. By the fifth, blood spattered as his skull was smashed to pulp, but I continued, only stopping when Marcus laid his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up. I was covered in blood, and my friends had their fair share splattered across them too. I bent down and wiped my blood-soaked hands on the emperor's sleeping gown. Marcus and Neysa stared at me, wide-eyed.

“How did you know…?” Neysa asked in a quiet voice.

“I just did.”

“Now what?” Marcus asked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FORTY

Another way

 

The princess's screaming was loud through the slab of stone closing us in. “What to do next… I don't know. The legion and the Inquisition will be on us in no time. I doubt it will take them long to open that,” I said gesturing up the steps.

“I might be able to fight my way past them,” Marcus said. “If we can make our way back down the hidden passage—”

“Then we are back in the dungeon,” I said. “Not exactly where we want to be.” We were quiet for a moment, the only sounds that of the princess screaming and a sizzling sound coming from the top of the steps. Every few seconds, the stone covering us was outlined by a flash of light. Milliandra was launching magical attacks, but fortunately they seemed to be failing.

I took the plans of the palace back out of my boot, looked at the top one, grunted, and shuffled to the next. I was looking for other hidden passages leading from the emperor's room, ones that perhaps did not lead into the dungeon. When I came to the fourth, I frowned, puzzled. I looked about the chamber we were in but could not see it.

“What?” Marcus asked.

I tapped on the plan. “This shows another passage, leading off… there,” I said pointing at the wall beside Neysa. “Or it might lead from the room above. These plans are shit, not even the Gods could make their way with them in hand. I can't see where it leads, either. It may lead back to the dungeon as well.” I sighed, and rubbed my face. I was too tired for this shit. “No matter, it looks to be sealed off.” I continued to look through the plans, but Marcus pushed on the wall. It did not budge, so he took a step to the side, and tried again without success. He took one more step and shrugged, leaning his back against the wall. He disappeared into it. There was a thump, and many grunts.

“Gods,” I heard some distance away. Neysa stood, gathered up the manuscripts, and walked to the wall. She pushed her hand through the wall, and it was as though there was nothing there.

“It's an illusion,” she said. “There is no wall. But it feels… different somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“The illusions that Malakai showed felt the same as the one that hid that vault,” she said, gesturing at the open door. “I could barely feel it, but still, there was something. I can't feel this one at all… I don't think it's the same kind of magic.”

“Solas knew more?”

“No,” Neysa said. “At least, I don't think so. I don't believe he created this illusion. He may not have known it was here.” She took a careful step forward and disappeared.

I walked up to it. She was right, I could feel nothing coming from it. The previous one was obvious, not faint as she described it, but this one… I took a deep breath, and shoved my head through. I saw Neysa waiting on the steps and Marcus getting to his feet on a landing some way down. I pulled my head back, looked at the dead emperor in the pool of blood, then walked through.

 

I climbed over a pile of rubble and came close to slipping on my way down. Our progress down the steps took a lot longer than it had to climb up. It was clear that this passage had not been used in a very long time. Parts of the passage was collapsed, and many steps had crumbled to dust long ago. Fortunately, none were completely collapsed, though some came close. We once more fought our way through cobwebs. I hated the feeling of the sticky webs I walked into all too frequently. They were like hairs tickling my skin, but not so easily removed.

 

After what felt like an hour we stopped to rest. My throat was painfully dry. The last thing I had drunk was the poison Innis had poured down my throat, and I could not even guess at how much time had passed since then. Hours, certainly, but days? It was possible.

I looked over the plans once again but shook my head. The passages were not marked with as much care as other portions of the palace, and the one we were in was only shown on one of the plans. There were many besides, and they often crossed each other, one above and one below, and both shown in the same space. I simply could not figure out where this one led.

I shoved them back into my boot, sighed, and got to my feet. The leather strap of my satchel dug into my skin. The satchel was bulging with as many of Neysa's manuscripts as I could fit, the crown, and all the rest of the things I always took with me. By the hells, I was tired. I doubted I would last much longer without food, drink, and proper rest. My friends stood, too, and while Neysa looked as tired as I was, if Marcus shared our fatigue, he did not show it. Marcus led the way, and we once more fought through cobwebs, and climbed over rubble as we came across it.