Dark Legion (46 page)

 

After what I guessed was another hour, we finally reached the bottom of the stairs with a number of extra scratches and bruises. Up ahead, I saw light and whispered for Neysa to put out her flame. A door sat at the far end, with light leaking from beneath it and through gaps in the door itself. We approached it quietly. There was a muffled conversation on the other side.

“Why would they come this way?” one voice asked.

“They won't. But the princess… the empress ordered all exits covered.”

An exit? That sounded promising. That it was guarded, less so. Marcus looked at me. It was dark, but I caught the white of his teeth. He must have heard them speak of the exit as well.

“What do we do?” I whispered.

“We fight,” Marcus said, unsheathing his sword. “We can't stay here. Besides, that is why I am here—not to clear cobwebs with my Gods-damned face.” Marcus tried the door, but it was locked. I was not surprised; nothing was ever easy.

I found myself wondering why someone had placed such a shoddy wooden door at the end of a passage that led to the emperor's room, of all places. I crouched down beside the door and stuck my finger into a hole in the ground against the wall. My finger fit into the hole easily enough, leaving plenty of room to wiggle it. I stood and looked up, seeing another hole at the top.

“There used to be another stone door here, I think,” I whispered. “Like the one leading to the privy. Someone got lazy and stuck this thing in its place. I doubt they looked to see where it led.” Climbing up would have been difficult, too, with the passage in such poor shape. There were stretches where we had been forced to slide down on our arses.

Marcus shrugged. “Ready?”

“No,” I said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Blood of my Blood

 

Marcus rammed his shoulder into the door, took a step back, and did it again. The door shattered, and Marcus went tumbling through. He collided with someone who followed him down. Another figure stepped between me and Marcus, looking down at him. It was a red-robed figure in black armor. Marcus, still on the ground, thrust his sword upward.

The Inquisitor blocked the blow. A high-pitched metal-on-metal sound shrieked down the corridor. Marcus's sword broke, the end clattering to the floor. The Inquisitor raised his sword to cut Marcus down.

I leapt from the passage as I drew my dagger, slid the blade below the helmet, and cut the man's throat. The Inquisitor collapsed to the ground, dark red blood spraying everywhere. Marcus grabbed the Inquisitor's sword and leapt to his feet.

He slashed down at the Inquisitor he'd knocked to the ground. The man was just getting to his feet when Marcus's blade cut through his armor in a spurt of blood. The Inquisitor gasped for air, and as he released the breath, blood poured from his mouth. Marcus took another look at the sword, his brow furrowed.

I took in the scene around us. We were in the train station, of all places. Had I known before what I knew then… the whole charade in the dining hall would have been needless. We could have simply opened the door, walked, or climbed up to the vault, and left again. “Svyn's balls,” I cursed.

Daylight streamed through the trickling waterfall. Four Inquisitors were closing in on us, and another was further back. One came for me, but Marcus moved. I forgot how quick the man was on his feet. The Inquisitor barely had time to turn before Marcus dealt him a heavy blow. The man froze, just standing there. Marcus turned and engaged the other three.

I lifted a dagger, waiting for the one in front of me to move. That's when the top half of the man slid from his torso, falling to the ground in a wet thwack. Neysa screamed. The legs soon fell, landing on top of the rest.

My eyes flicked back to Marcus. He was managing to keep the three Inquisitors at bay and had cleared some room around him. The Inquisitors were master swordsmen, but Marcus… he was something else. Still, one man on three—it was not an easy fight.

Marcus was focused on defense, and the Inquisitors were biding their time, waiting for an opening. The fifth Inquisitor backed up a ramp to the large metal door I'd noticed when we'd come through the station the first time, and he disappeared through it. He would get reinforcements, of that I was sure.

Marcus lunged at one of the red-robed men, attempting to impale him on his sword. Instead, the air shimmered around him, forming a large dome. A shield of magic, like the one they had used when Neysa had tried to burn the emperor. The men flew through the air. One Inquisitor collided hard with one of the many pillars in the station with a loud crunch.

Marcus looked surprised for a moment but quickly leapt after one of the Inquisitors who was standing to his feet. The man pulled back his sword. I thought he would use the same trick with the shield to throw Marcus back. However, Marcus dodged sideways, bringing his blade up. The man's arm fell to the ground. It took the Inquisitor a moment to realize, then he started screaming. The screaming stopped when his head fell from his body, rolling past Marcus's feet.

The last Inquisitor approached and started circling, his blade held out toward Marcus. A shimmering shield extended from the tip. Marcus smacked his sword into it, testing it, but the blade bounced back violently. The man approached, but Marcus had his own shield in place. They circled each other, waiting for a moment to strike. When they came too close to one another, their shields touching, sparks flew out, and both men were pushed back.

Unfortunately time was on the Inquisitor's side. He just had to hold out until support arrived. As they circled around again, the man's back turned to me, I considered sneaking up and cutting his throat. But then… the man burst into flame. The flash of light blinded me. The Inquisitor screamed, but his scream did not last long. I looked away and to Neysa, who was lowering her arm. She rested her hands on her knees, catching her breath. Marcus ran past the burning heap to join us.

I sprinted to the door that led to the waterwheel and my escape tunnel, noticing a circle drawn beside in chalk, but froze as I barged through. Rocks had been piled into the channel, and my escape tunnel was no more. They must have done that after catching the three slaves, but the circle drawn in chalk meant it had been clear when Ferran had checked it. I hoped they had gotten away.

“Hells!” I yelled and turned back. Marcus was dancing with another Inquisitor, possibly the one who had run out previously. They dropped their shields and attacked in unison. This man was incredible. He moved with such ease, with such precision, never a wasted action. Even Marcus was outclassed. Back and forth they fought. It ended when Marcus tripped on a rail, hit his elbow on the tracks, and lost his sword.

The Inquisitor stood, towering over Marcus for a long moment. Neysa threw several fireballs his way, but he simply held the tip of his blade in her direction, and never took his eyes off Marcus. Neysa soon wearied, and fought for breath.

The Inquisitor pulled back the hood of his robe. He was the first black Inquisitor I had ever seen, his tattoos lighter than his skin. He sheathed his sword. “You should go now, son.”

He turned and ran from the station, passing through the dripping waterfall.

“Father!” Marcus shouted, and went to run after him.

“Marcus!” I used his true name. I was in no shortage of pain to draw on, but I wasn't sure if even that could stop the man. It pained me to do it. “Behind you!”

Two legionnaires came into the station from the street entrance. I looked for another escape route and thought to join the Inquisitor, Marcus's father, but what then? Fight our way out of the city on the streets? That was unlikely to go well.

Marcus engaged the two legionnaires, and after a short but bloody fight, the station was quiet. Only the trickling water could be heard on the far side. The serene moment was at odds with my racing mind. The moment was broken when more legionnaires came in, and then again by a flap of wings. The legionnaires ducked down as a large black bird, a raven, flew close overhead. The bird settled on the lone wagon sitting on the track.

“Get on the wagon,” Neysa shouted, and pulled me toward it. The wagon with Malakai's rockets still sat where I had last seen it. The legionnaires came at us, but Marcus cut them down with casual ease. That Dark Legion blade was incredible.

We climbed onto the wagon and looked to Neysa. She was crouched next to one of the rockets, examining it. Another commotion had me look up to see a mass of guards and Inquisitors coming out of the large metal door.

“Whatever you have in mind, do it quick,” I said.

Neysa pried open a small panel on the side of the rocket and drew out a string. No, not a string—a fuse. She darted over to the other rocket and did the same, then sat between the two, lit her flame, and dipped the fuses into it. There was a spark that slowly made its way along the fuse. I understood what Neysa had in mind but found myself unsure of how it would pan out.

I glanced back up at the gathering soldiers. The front row took a knee, leveling crossbows.

“Look out,” I shouted.

Neysa looked up and held out a hand as she hummed, forming her shield. More than a dozen bolts came flying our way, and I flinched as the bolts struck the shield. Several would have found their mark. The fuses had burned halfway along their lengths, leaving a black trail on the wagon's timber.

“You might want to hang on,” Neysa said through gritted teeth. “Tightly.”

Marcus and I complied, gripping onto the metal rungs usually used to secure cargo. Her humming continued as another volley came at us, once more bouncing off the shield. This time they were joined by several magic attacks, launched by the crossbow wielding Inquisitors that had joined the fray.

The soldiers cleared a space and the new empress walked through. The crossbowmen lowered their weapons, not wanting to put their new empress in danger. She continued to walk toward us, her teeth bared. When she was but a dozen steps away, my brain collided with my skull. A blaze of fire streamed from the rockets, and our wagon flew down the tracks. Neysa dropped her shield as she fell, and I reached out with my spare arm and clung onto her.

I looked up to see the empress pull back her sleeve, and place her fingers on her silver tattoos. A large glowing ball of lighting came streaming at us. We were going ridiculously fast, but the ball was closing the distance.

“Look out,” I shouted.

“I'm drained,” Neysa croaked. “I can't stop it.”

Marcus fumbled at his belt. The ball of lightning was coming ever closer. The thing was large, making the bolts the Inquisitors shot look feeble by comparison. Beyond it, I saw the empress lower her hands, now far in the distance.

Marcus freed his blade and stabbed it toward the ball mere moments before it reached us. The lightning crashed against the dome of the shield, blinding me. The blast rocked the wagon and it lurched, but we stayed on the tracks, much to my relief.

When my vision cleared, the palace was out of sight and we were flying through Morwynne. People gawked at us as we sped past, and more than one fainted with the shock of it. I supposed in a different situation, I might have found the experience exhilarating.

The sun was low on the horizon. This escapade of ours had taken a full day, if not two. We passed through the imperial capital in remarkable time. I doubted anyone had ever moved as fast as that. My arms ached, but I held on for dear life.

Soon, trees flew past us, and our speed only increased as we went down the incline. I wondered how far we would go and what would stop us. The rockets running out of fuel? Or the end of the track? I sincerely hoped for the former while suspecting the latter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Barrels of Fun

 

Our journey from Sagemont to Morwynne had taken the better part of a day, but as Sagemont came into view, the lights of the town below us like the dying embers of a fire, I doubted an hour had passed since we'd left the capital. The rocket-powered wagon would leave even a good horse in its dust, and I reckoned we had a decent lead on our pursuers, perhaps an hour or two to make good our escape.

As we approached Sagemont, the wagon slowed, stuttering every few seconds as the fuel ran out. I was relieved. I would have hated to see how the wagon fared without tracks. Poorly, I thought.

The rockets let out their final breath as we rolled into town, and we rumbled along by gravity alone, slamming to a stop just past the small station. I bit my tongue from the jolt, and Neysa came close to tumbling from the wagon.

Marcus leapt off, landing gracefully. My own descent was clumsy, more appropriately described as rolling off. I winced as I stretched. Pain poked its bony fingers at my ribs, stabbed into the hole in my chest, twisted my muscles into knots, and slammed its fists to the side of my head. I was no stranger to pain, but it ravaged me this day.

Marcus helped Neysa while I looked down the streets of Sagemont. It lay slumbering, barely awake, with only hints that it was still alive. We had been away from Sagemont for just over a week, but it felt like a lifetime. It saddened me that it would be a short visit.