Ink Mage (39 page)

“But …” She looked at the women with their swords. “Okay.” She hurried away.

“Where now?” Tosh asked.

“Down.” Rina’s directions had been explicit. “To the dungeons.”

The door to the kitchen swung open, and all heads turned.

A Perranese soldier stood there, munching a carrot. He looked at everyone in the kitchen, his mind slow to process what he was seeing. Abruptly, his eyes went wide. He dropped the carrot and went for his sword.

Alem fumbled for his own sword, one they’d given him at the Wounded Bird.

Prinn and one of the other women—Tosh called her Tenni, Alem remembered—surged past him, one going high, the other low. Prinn thrust, catching the soldier under the arm. Tenni going for the groin. The soldier grunted and stepped back, blood splashing down his side. The women pressed the attack, riding him down, slashing again with the swords.

Prinn cut his throat.

“Hide that body,” Tosh commanded.

Prinn dragged the dead soldier into the pantry.

“Listen to me,” Tosh told the women. “There aren’t enough of us to fight the whole castle. We kill anyone who sees us, but other than that keep it tight and keep it quiet. Am I clear?”

Each woman nodded, grim-faced and resolute.

Alem had not realized prostitutes were so dangerous.

* * *

They waited in the darkness.

“How much longer?” Gino asked.

“I don’t know,” Rina said.
And stop asking me, damn you
.

Forty of them plus Rina. All fidgeting nervously in the dark and smelling like sewage. She had to remind herself they hadn’t been waiting that long. It always seemed longer when sitting idle and anxious.

Her fear was that at some point she’d have to call it off, turn and tell these people they’d made the trip for nothing. If Alem had been captured or killed—

The grinding sound of stone on stone was followed by a flood of dim torchlight as the small door slid to the side. A silhouette appeared. “Sorry I’m late.” Alem’s voice.

“Alem!”

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long. I had a devil of a time getting over the wall and—”

Rina rushed in, mashed her lips against his, a slim hand going behind his head to pull him against her. She finally pulled back and said, “Okay, now get out of the way. I’ve got gypsies with me.”

They poured into the little jailer’s room and spilled out into the corridor where Rina found a dead Perranese soldier lying in a pool of his own blood.

Rina turned to look at them all, and they fell silent, expectant.

She closed her eyes, tapped into the spirit and saw through the eyes of the falcon. The bird glided low over the city’s front gates. Everything seemed calm, and as far as she could tell no alarm had been raised. That wouldn’t last long.

She told the falcon to fly out over the Long Bridge, confirming the presence of the barracks that the Perranese had erected for reasons she couldn’t guess. The bulk of the army was still being housed outside of the city. It was a baffling blunder that Rina planned to take advantage of.

If she lived.

She released the spirit and looked up. Every eye was on her. She looked at them. The gypsy men—and Maurizan—favored the two-handed dagger fighting style, quick stinging strikes. The women who’d come with Alem carried the curved, single-edged swords they’d obviously stolen from the Perranese. A strange blend of peoples, and not much of an army. But each of them looked ready to spit death in the eye.

She cleared her throat. “We have to get out of the castle as fast as we can. We have to run for the city gates and close them. If we don’t, if we allow the army camped outside back into the city, we don’t have a chance. Do you understand?”

The crowd murmured that they did.

Rina drew the two-handed sword, tossed the sheath aside. “Then follow me.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Giffen gulped the remainder of his wine and then set aside the goblet, unlacing his robe as he approached his bed.

Sarin lay back in the pillows, grinning at him. The thin, silken shift hid none of her fabulous attributes. Giffen climbed onto the bed, crawled toward her, purring like a cat. She giggled. He reached for a breast, cupped it, and she cooed.

A scream.

Giffen paused. He shook his head, deciding to ignore it. He pulled down the top of her shift, and one of Sarin’s heavy breasts popped out. He ran a thumb over the nipple, licked his lips, anticipating all the various things he would do to her.

Another scream, muffled and distant but clear. The clashing sound of metal on metal.

He sat up and turned toward the door. Possibly this was something he should look into.

Giffen turned back to Sarin. “Did you just hear—”

Sarin came at him, thrusting the little knife, the grin on her face twisted to an expression of animal rage.

The knife would have pieced his heart if he hadn’t turned at the last second. Instead, the knife plunged into his side, and Giffen went rigid, mouth dropping open, eyes popping. She pulled the blade out of him, blood splattering across her shift and face, and lifted the knife to strike again.

He caught her wrist and they tumbled over together, tangled in the sheets and rolling off the bed. He landed on top of her. She tried to bring the knife up, but Giffen banged her hand hard against the floor until her hand opened and the blade clattered away.

She brought her knee up into his balls.

He grunted, going red. His hands went around her throat.

At first Sarin tried to pry his fingers away. Then she went red too, thrashed and bucked beneath him, pounded his shoulders with her fists. He squeezed harder.

Then she went stiff. Then she went slack.

He rolled off her, panting and dizzy, looked down, saw the life leaking red out of him.

Giffen tried to stand; his legs went weak and he flopped down again. He closed his eyes. He felt cold.

* * *

At the first sound of trouble, Chen drew his sword and rushed into the hall, cocked an ear and tried to determine from which direction the disturbance came. He thought about returning to his room and donning his armor, but whatever the disturbance might be, it could be over by the time he strapped on a chest plate and shin guards.

A panicked shout drew his attention and he ran toward it. He rounded the corner, saw one of his officers on the floor in a bloody heap, three women with swords standing over him.

The one closest to him charged, a thin girl with mousy brown hair, her sword up, thrusting confidently but slowly. Chen blocked it past him and sliced her throat open on a sweeping backswing.

She dropped the sword and spun away, blood spraying through her fingers as she uselessly tried to staunch the flow.

Chen brought his sword up in a ready stance.

The other two came more slowly, spreading apart a few feet to give each other room to move. A short, graceful blonde and a fierce-looking brunette with a hawkish face. A brief hesitation and then they came, one high and one low—not a bad maneuver, one he guessed they’d practiced.

Chen swung fast, one blade to another, batting both of their swords aside. He kicked the brunette in the knee and she stumbled back, cursing. He brought his blade back just in time to parry another thrust from the blonde, and Chen immediately stepped in and thrust the sword through her belly. He turned to face the other girl, but couldn’t move his sword. He looked down at the blonde.

Instead of wilting and sliding off his blade to the floor, the blonde had reached up to grab his wrist, holding the sword fast inside her.

“Prinn!” When the blonde shouted, flecks of blood dotted her bottom lip. “Prinn!”

The brunette limped forward, bringing the sword to bear. Chen realized too late he’d have to let go of his sword to defend himself.

Before he could do that, she thrust upward, underneath his ribs. It was a good strike, slicing through a number of vital organs, and Chen knew he was finished before he hit the floor.

* * *

This was madness. And Tosh was lost. He’d never been inside the castle before.

Halfway up from the dungeons they’d encountered the changing of the guard, a half-dozen Perranese soldiers, easily dispatched, but not before they could raise the alarm. They were almost out of the castle when three squads of Perranese soldiers hit them from two directions.

The fighting had been confused, loud and bloody. They’d been fractured into a few different groups, forced down different hallways. He thought he saw Duchess Veraiin and a group of the gypsies heading for the way out, but he couldn’t be sure.

He turned down another hall, hoping to find any of his girls.

There!

Prinn knelt in the middle of the hallway near two dead Perranese soldiers. The fighting had apparently spread throughout the entire castle. He wondered if they were winning or losing.

Prinn turned to look at him, her face smeared with tears and blood. It looked like something was in her lap. Tosh took a step toward her—

Tosh dropped his sword.

Tenni was so white, waxen and unreal. Prinn stroked her hair, sobbing quietly.

No, that not right. That’s not her because … because, see if … because …

The hallway tilted, and Tosh threw out his arms to balance himself and suddenly he was on the floor. He rolled over, got to his hands and knees.

And then he was heaving his guts out.

* * *

The Ink Mage sat cross-legged in front of the open window, letting the cool air wash over him. It did little good. His skin was slick with sweat. The power was burning him up from the inside. He boiled with a destruction eager to be unleashed.

Ankar tapped into the spirit.

His every sense was alive, and Ankar sensed … something. Like he could feel it in the floor, vibrating up through his body.

He reached out with his hearing, his sense of smell. A battle.

Ankar grinned.
It’s started
.

He stood and stretched, muscles bunching.

Ankar chose no weapon.

He donned no armor.

He left his room and descended the stairs into the chaos below.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

The streets in front of the castle were utter chaos. The dead lay everywhere. She’d made it out of the castle with about twenty of the gypsies, including Gino and Maurizan.

A disheveled, unkempt man in rags stopped suddenly in front of her, a sword in his dirty hand. “Who are you?”

I’m your duchess
. “I’m on your side. What’s going on here?”

“There’s a bunch of us. We were with the labor gangs, but they busted us out and gave us swords,” the man said. “We’ve been killing Perranese wherever we can find them.”

“The front gates,” Rina said. “They’ve got to be closed or we’re all dead.”

“To the gates!” he screamed like a madman. “To the gates for Klaar!”

The man and two dozen of his ragged comrades ran toward the gates, waving blades and shouting hoarse war cries.

Rina turned to Gino and Maurizan. “Follow as fast as you can.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, tapped into the spirit and ran. Her feet barely touched the cobblestones as she flew down the street, past the ragged warriors and toward the gates.

The square in front of the gates was a flurry of activity. It was like watching the battle at the temple gate all over again, but the sides had changed. The huge bars had already been slid back from the gates, and soldiers pulled on the chains to swing them open.

Rina could see through the open gates, down the Long Bridge to the other side where Perranese troops were already forming up to make the crossing.

She’d killed three of the men at the gate before they realized she was among them. They charged and fell, Rina’s two-handed sword rising and falling, a trail of gore following the blade wherever she swung.

She gave two men The Hand of Death and drained their spirit, then waded back into them, leaving writhing bodies in her wake, the limbs of her foes bleeding and scattered.

And then the others were there, ragged warriors and gypsies, crashing into the Perranese.

Rina grabbed Gino by the shoulder. “Get these gates closed.”

“Where are you going?”

She pointed down the long bridge at the advancing army. “There.”

Rina ran through the gates, fifty yards down the bridge, stopped and planted herself. She stood with the two-handed sword point down, leaning on the hilt. She waited.

I don’t have to kill a whole army. I just have to keep them back until the gates are closed
.

The sounds of battle rose and fell behind her, and then stopped. She glanced back at the sounds of the gate clanking shut and the bars sliding back into place.

She grinned at the approaching army.
You’re too late
.

The army stopped suddenly, stood there looking down the length of the bridge at her.

Obviously, I’m so intimidating, they don’t dare
—

A huge shadow passed over her, jerking her attention upward.

The hulking man landed hard twenty yards in front of her, cracking the stones beneath his feet and shaking the entire bridge.

Rina stepped back, bringing the sword up. She looked behind her at the gate, back at the enormous man in front of her.
Did he
jump
from the city wall
? He wore only a loincloth and ankle boots. Steam rose from his skin.

And he was covered head to foot in tattoos.

Oh … shit
.

He advanced. “Well. So you’re the other one.”

Rina remembered what Krell had told her back at the Temple of Mordis. Two champions.

“Show us what you’ve got, then.”

He leapt at her, almost like he was flying, and she barely had time to drop to the ground and roll out of the way. Both of his feet came down hard where she’d been a moment before, cracking stone again.

Rina bounced up, swung the sword, thrust, swung again. He was never where she aimed her strike, always seeming to melt away like a ghost.