Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (49 page)

Thaddeus sheathed his sword and dusted his hands together. "All in a day's work."

I frowned, trying not to look at the carnage as I searched the bodies for keys. "Bring the guards in from outside."

Thaddeus and Vera dragged the two guards inside and shut the door just as I found the key ring, and then the three of us set off down the stairs leading to the tunnels.

"You know your way around this place?" Thaddeus whispered.

"I think. I've been down here once or twice." We ran past bars with dark cells and around the corner, startling the guard there. I knocked him out before he could even gasp in surprise.

We kept running, and I scanned the cells for prisoners. I led them down another stair that led to the lower level. There were three guards down here, seated at a table and playing a game of Kings, by the looks of it. They looked up at us, confused, but before anything else could register, I punched the foremost guard in the face, sending him reeling from his chair and onto the floor. I shoved the table back into the other two, knocking them out of their chairs. As they scrambled to their feet, I kicked one square in the jaw then elbowed the other in the gut. He bent forward and I plunged my sword through his belly. I turned back around just in time to see the first guard slumping to the ground, gripping his throat that Vera had sliced clean.

"Who's there?" whispered a voice from farther down the tunnel.

Thank the spirits. At least one prisoner was still alive. I hurried in the direction of the sound, searching the dark cells, hoping for more signs of life. "Alexander Del Conte, and I've got keys."

To my relief, hands reached out and wrapped around the bars as more and more faces appeared in the shadows.

"Have you taken back Astor?" someone asked.

"Not yet, but I'll explain later." I set to unlocking the nearest cell. It took me a few tries to find the right key. "Do any of you know where they're keeping Lord Tosca?" The latch unlocked. The barred door creaked open, and I moved on to the next cell. It used the same key.

"He's at the end of the hall in one of the special rooms," one of the freed prisoners said.

I'd seen one of those special rooms before. They were saved for the worst kinds of criminals because they were, in fact, torture chambers. I finished unlocking the doors as men staggered out into the corridor, bewildered and smeared in dirt and their own filth.

"Stay with them and explain what's going on," I said to Thaddeus. "I'll get Lord Tosca."

I left Thaddeus and Vera with the freed prisoners and jogged down the hall to where it ended in a large iron door. I picked through the keys until I found the right one, then opened the heavy door, snatched the torch from the wall beside it, and slipped inside the small tunnel. It was even colder in here and dark as pitch, and it felt and smelled like death. Slowly, I walked past each of the smaller iron doors lining the walls. Lord Tosca had to be behind one of these, but I didn't like the idea of opening each one to find out. No telling what else had been locked away down here. And then I caught a streak of blood on the ground before one of the doors. It looked fresh.

It took me a few minutes to find the right key, but when the latch clicked, I braced myself for what might lie beyond. Hopefully, Lord Tosca was still alive. The door swung inward without sound and the space beyond was even darker than the corridor. A metallic smell hit my nose, as well as the scent of something else that made my stomach turn. I thrust my torch into the room and golden light spilled over uneven surfaces, twisting the shadows. There was a small table with an assortment of barbaric-looking instruments, and then I saw Lord Tosca.

Lord Tosca had always been larger than life. He was a man the people of Alioth needed, someone strong enough to face the dangers living so close to the Icelands would bring, and he was currently naked and covered in blood, tied spread-eagle to a large wooden "X". His fiery hair was matted and brown, and his beard had been shaved…or brutally hacked, if the cuts on his face were any indication. I might not have recognized him at all if it weren't for the swirling tattoo around his bicep.

"Lord Tosca," I said but he didn't stir. "It's me—Alexander."

I set the torch down on the ground near his feet, and then I lifted his chin. His eyes didn't open, and when I let go, his head slumped back down again. I checked his pulse. It still pumped, but faintly. Up close, I could see each and every cut over his body, some superficial, some so deep the muscle showed. Two of the fingers on his left hand had been brutally hacked off. A flush of hot anger burned through me, and I trembled with fury.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" I said close to his ear, which was also caked with blood. I cut at his ties, starting with his feet. The rope had cut into his skin, leaving rings of angry red and blood behind. I moved to his hands, and once I'd cut the last tie, I barely managed to catch him before he fell. Straining, I eased him to the floor and leaned him back against the "X", then wiped my brow and looked around for something to cover him with. They hadn't left his clothes in here, but there was a wool covering over the table with the instruments. I grabbed the edge of the wool and gave it a swift yank, sending those barbaric instruments clattering to the floor, and then I brought it over to Lord Tosca and wrapped it around his shoulders. He started at my touch and then trembled in fear. My hopes plummeted as I realized the great lord was in no position to help us.

I crouched before him. "We're here to take back your city, Lord Tosca. I hoped you'd be able to use your magic to help us do that, but I think it'd be better if you stay hidden down here. Can you try to walk? Just so we can get you out of this cell?"

He just trembled and trembled, and then he murmured something I couldn't hear. I pinched my lips together. I didn't think I could carry him alone. If only I could magically heal him a little, or ask Thaddeus to do it—just to ease his pain for the time being. But there would be no doing magic in these dungeons. The only person who could get past the enchantments was Lord Tosca, but he was barely conscious.

"Need some help, Del Can't?" Thaddeus stood in the doorway. He fell silent as he took in the sight of Lord Tosca.

"Yes, actually," I said. "He needs to stay hidden down here, but I'd like to at least get him out of this bloody room."

Without another word, Thaddeus came forward and helped me hoist Lord Tosca up between us. Lord Tosca fought us at first—whether it was from sheer pain or fear of being touched, I couldn't tell—but he was too weak to do very much, and after a few grunts and shoves, we had Lord Tosca sagging between us. Very carefully, we led him out of the cell, his feet dragging on the ground, and when we brought him through the doors and into the corridor where the others were gathered, a heavy silence fell. A couple of the men started forward, staring at their lord in both fury and horror.

"He's alive, but barely." I grunted. "He needs to stay down here."

"I'll stay with him," one of them volunteered.

"I'll stay, too," said another.

"But what about…" Vera hesitated. She was wondering how we were going to proceed without Lord Tosca's help.

"I think they're down here!" a voice suddenly yelled from above.

I drew my sword. "Looks like we'll have to improvise."

31

STEFAN

P
lunk—plunk—plunk
.

Plunk—plunk
.

My head wrenched. There was a sharp point in my right temple, stabbing like an ice pick with every pulse, then spreading over my skull and down my neck so that my entire head felt as though it were between the hands of a giant, squeezing it flat. I expected my skull to explode any moment and squirt my brains on the…wall? Ground? I had no idea because I had no idea where I was.

I winced my lids open, which was useless since there was nothing to see except darkness—everywhere. Not even shadows discerned themselves from one another. My skull seized with pain again and I squeezed my lids shut, waiting for the unbearable pain to subside.

There was another, duller ache in the left side of my chest, right near my heart. With no small amount of strain, I managed to lift my right arm just enough to touch my chest. I wasn't wearing a shirt. My ribcage had been wrapped in linens. Of course, I couldn't see any of this—it was all by feel, but the spot over my heart was damp and sticky. A shock of pain knifed through my chest and I dropped my arm, teeth grinding against the pain.

A knife
.

I had been stabbed with a knife, by my uncle, right through my heart…right after he murdered my grandfather. I felt a new pain now, and it had nothing to do with the wound.

I heard a shuffle, a click, and the screech of metal, and then something cool touched my forehead.

"…fever is breaking." The voice sounded murky and far away.

"He needs more yerrow," said another.

"I'm afraid if I give him more, he'll turn septic. He's too weak as it is."

"Shall I get more lyca root?"

"Is there more?"

"Enough for one more dose."

A pause. "Yes, fetch it."

More shuffling and another cool pressure against my forehead. Who kept me alive, and why?

Plunk—plunk—plunk
echoed the dripping water, and my mind unwillingly drifted off with it.

32

ALEXANDER

I
bolted up the stairs and met the guards head-on. My body surged with adrenaline, my movements automatic as I cut through them all, one after the other. Somewhere in my mind their deaths registered: one, two, three, four, five…six-seven-eight. All of the wounds fatal. Not all of them immediate. Killing came so easily to me my advantage seemed almost unfair. Before I knew it, I was in the upper room of the dungeons, dripping with sweat and blood—my blood, but mostly their blood—with bodies lying all around me.

"Demons and hellhounds." Thaddeus stood at the top of the stair, Vera right behind him, staring at the death. They looked both impressed and frightened. "No wonder my pops wants you dead," he said.

I was about to comment when a mighty screeching filled the air. Thaddeus, Vera, and I exchanged a glance.

"Was that a—" Thaddeus started.

"Yes."

Vera cursed, and I sprinted for the dungeon's main door.

"You can't go out there right now!" Thaddeus yelled after me.

I paused with my door on the handle. "And if we don't, it'll attack Theon and his men and they'll never get inside this city. I have to draw it away."

Another horrifying shriek filled the sky, and this time the ground trembled. Thaddeus cursed. "You're even more suicidal than Rook!" he shouted, but followed me out the door anyway, with Vera right behind him.

I stopped outside the dungeons. Guards stood a few yards before us, no doubt on their way to the dungeons, but were currently paralyzed and gaping at the sky. I glanced up just as the gargon unleashed a spray of fire.

"Move!" I shoved Thaddeus and Vera hard, and the three of us barely dodged the flames as they slammed into the face of the dungeons with the force of a fire hose. The air burned hot as a smelter, and I heard someone yell, "There they are!"

"Uh, Del Can't…I think they saw us."

"Noticed!" I charged at the first wave of oncoming guards.

The three of us cut through them, picking up weapons as we went, and a second wave of guards attacked to replace the first. The gargon hadn't tried hosing us again, probably because it wouldn't be able to hit us without destroying dozens of Eris's men. This made me wonder who—or what—was controlling the wild beast, but I was glad to see we'd effectively drawn the focus away from the open western gate as well as the dungeons. I thought I caught some of the citizens peeking down at us from where they were no doubt prisoners behind their own windows, wondering what in the blazes was going on. All we needed now was to stay alive until Theon realized I would not be giving the signal we'd discussed. The airborne fire hose should be all the signal he needed.

And it was, because right as the third wave of guards approached, Theon and his men ran around the corner. The battle lines collided in a clash of steel and cries. Emboldened by our presence, citizens dropped large objects from their windows, and bricks and vases landed on a few unsuspecting enemy heads. And then came a giant.

He wasn't a half-giant. This was a bloody full-sized one, hairier than a bear and easily four times my height. The plate of armor covering his shin was longer than I was tall, and he was taking out handfuls of our men with each swing of his bludgeon. Nords flew, crashing into walls, barrels, other Nords, and enemy guards. Some tried regrouping to get nearer, but the giant was too large and too strong. None of them could get close enough to inflict anything fatal.

"That's a whole lotta ugly!" Thaddeus yelled as he fought beside me. "And he's taking our men down fast." I heard the question in his voice.

"I'll go." I shoved off a guard.

"Good, because"—
punch—punch—stab
—"I don't wanna get hit with Ugly's stick."

I gave Thaddeus a look, to which he grinned, and I shoved my way through the fighting, set on that giant. He swung his bludgeon like a pendulum, knocking men left and right, and then he finally saw me, standing there waiting for him.

He tilted his head to the sky and yelled, some wild and barbaric sound, then looked down at me, licked his lips, and adjusted his grip on the bludgeon. I brandished my sword, flexing my fingers over the hilt while never taking my eyes off the giant. And the giant was on me in two massive steps.

He swung his bludgeon. I dropped and rolled away. The giant struck and struck again, hitting the ground like some real-life Whac-A-Mole, each time missing me by hair. He grew angrier and hit the ground faster and faster, getting sloppy with rage. And then I saw my window. I dove behind his legs, cutting hard across one of his Achilles tendons, severing through leather then tendon. He roared and spun on me, knocking my sword out of my hands. It skittered across cobblestone and came to rest somewhere behind him. His dark eyes raged with something wild and ravenous. He raised his bludgeon high, his lips twisted in cruelty.