The Copper Promise (7 page)

‘Careful!’ shouted Sebastian. ‘Something’s pushing up through the stones.’

They were all in the centre of the room, too far from either set of steps for immediate safety. Frith climbed awkwardly to his feet, leaning on his walking stick. Now he could see it. A glowing green substance was pushing up through the joins between the stones, pushing them apart like a great eldritch sea. The flagstone he had his weight on tilted to one side and his boot was briefly doused in the substance. There was a hissing sound, and the scent of boiling leather.

‘Don’t touch it,’ he said, his voice hoarse with panic. ‘It burns.’

Wydrin was swearing loudly and attempting to hop from one flagstone to another, but many were already sinking beneath the green lava, leaving her fewer and fewer places to step. Sebastian was faring even worse, his size and the weight of his sword keeping him off balance. The edge of his cloak was already smoking from contact with the liquid.

Frith jumped awkwardly from one stone to the next, each step sending a stab of pain up his weak leg. His limbs felt numb from the previous sword fight and he had nothing to lean his stick against. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck.

‘There’s something else here!’ Wydrin was closest to the far side, but she had stopped in front of a wide trench of the treacherous green goo and seemed unable to go further. ‘Something under the slime!’

‘What?’

As Frith watched, the surface of the poisonous pool began to seethe, and a long shape disturbed the surface. It was sinuous and thick with muscle, and barbs bristled from its slimy skin. From all around them came a loud chittering sound that made all the hairs on the back of Frith’s neck stand up. Wydrin drew her daggers and balanced herself as best she could, but the shape under the green surged towards her, revealing a long tapering tentacle with sharp, teeth-lined mouths on the underside. It swept at her feet, trying to knock her into the slime, but she jumped over it and brought both daggers down on its fleshy hide. The chittering turned briefly into squealing and it retreated rapidly beneath the surface. Wydrin only avoided following it when Sebastian took hold of her waist and pulled her back. Her daggers came out of the creature with a sickening pop, and a jet of bright blue fluid spurted over her leather bodice.

‘Quick! While it is injured!’ cried Frith, struggling to catch up with them, but the creature was already stirring in half a dozen places, other tentacles rising up out of the slime like cobras.

Frith took one of the acid bombs from the bag inside his cloak and threw it at a flagstone near the creature, but it sank harmlessly into the green. He drew his sword instead, trying to ignore how his boots were smoking and the flagstones were gradually sinking. A tentacle struck at him, clinging to his cloak with a hideous sucking noise, and another wrapped around his left leg. He struck down at it with the point of his rapier, jabbing with all the strength he could muster, and smiled grimly at the blue blood that leaked out of it. The tentacle around his ankle withdrew, but the one on his cloak was now tangled in it, dragging him out towards the acid. He turned and slashed, slicing through the thick material but completely missing the monster. Behind him, Wydrin was releasing a continual stream of curse words and Sebastian was shouting commands, and all the time there was the endless clacking and squealing of the huge thing beneath them.

A tentacle crashed onto the stone between his feet. Frith fell to his knees and cried out in pain as the green substance burned into his legs. For a brief second he was back in the dank little dungeon cell, and Yellow-Eyed Rin was leaning over him with a hot poker.

He lashed out with the rapier again, this time cutting the tentacle clean in half with one stroke. He scrambled up and away from it, very nearly stepping right back into the green slime, but the chamber was suddenly full of yellow light. For an instant everything was black and white. One of the tentacles flailed past him, a burning arrow jutting up from its barbed flesh. There was a whoosh, another blaze of light, and the creature was squealing in agony. The green acid below began to seethe ever more violently. He had to crouch to keep from going straight in it.

‘Make for the edge, friends!’ came a voice from behind him. ‘It doesn’t much like the touch of my hot fingers.’

Frith turned to see a man standing on the far steps with a bow in his hands, cocked and ready with a fiery arrow. He was short and slim, with wavy blond hair and a small pointed beard. The man took aim and fired once more, the arrow finding another length of tentacle and biting deep. The creature began to withdraw, pulling its arms below the surface. Ahead of Frith, Sebastian and Wydrin were clambering awkwardly to the far steps, hopping from one broken flagstone to the next. They were both shouting excitedly, although Frith could not understand why. He hobbled over as best he could and almost made it to the edge before losing his balance. He pin-wheeled backwards, waving his arms desperately for balance but then Wydrin was there, dragging him with her onto the steps. His boots splashed through some of the green acid but he did not fall.

‘That was close,’ said Wydrin. Frith looked at her sharply, sure she was mocking him again, but rather than her usual crooked smile she looked pale, her hair hanging in her eyes. On the steps in front of them, Sebastian was marching up to the blond man, who had slung his bow onto his back.

‘Sebastian!’ he cried. ‘You’re looking well.’

‘And so are you, Gallo.’ The big knight looked confused for a few seconds, before breaking into a huge grin. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’

He swept the smaller man up into a bone-crushing hug.

‘It’s good to see you, Gallo,’ said Wydrin. She waved to the smaller man as Sebastian put him back down. ‘You always did have a fine sense of timing. Been having fun?’

Gallo grinned.

‘But of course. Let’s find a friendlier chamber. This could take a while.’

Gallo and Sebastian stood together, laughing and clapping each other on the back, exchanging exclamations of surprise and cries of ‘Well, you took your time!’ and ‘Fancy seeing you here!’. Wydrin had found a pile of rocks and was perched on its edge, using the point of her dagger to scrape the last of the green ooze from her clothes. Frith crouched beside her, watching the two men.

‘That is definitely him?’ he asked Wydrin in a low voice.

Wydrin glanced up and shrugged.

‘It is. I’d know that smug little beard anywhere.’

Frith frowned. Finding Sebastian’s partner here, in the depths of the Citadel, was disconcerting. A corpse would have been easier to deal with.

‘Is he trustworthy?’

Wydrin slid her blade back into its scabbard and laughed.

‘Gallo? Of course not. He’s a scoundrel.’ She paused. ‘I’ve always liked him.’

‘And yet Sir Sebastian seems to be an honourable man.’

‘Well, you know they say opposites attract.’ She grinned up at him in an unnerving fashion. When he scowled at her she stretched her arms above her head until the bones in her shoulders popped. ‘You know where I first met Sebastian? In the middle of a street brawl.’ The two men were still talking animatedly, taking little notice of their companions. Even so, she lowered her voice. ‘When those pompous bastards threw him out of the Order he was heartbroken. And grieving.’ A shadow passed over her face. ‘He’d goaded a bunch of Crosshaven scum into a fight – five on one it was, the idiot, and he was keeping them off with his bare hands. Didn’t even draw his sword. I happened to be passing and, well, I didn’t like the odds so I joined in. When they’d gone, skittering back up the street like rats, I realised that the giant knight with all the hair was stone-cold drunk.’

‘Sir Sebastian?’

‘He was a mess, full of rage and grief at what they’d done to him. We became friends, and he started helping me out on some jobs.’ She looked up at her friend, her gaze considering. ‘He wanted to be the worst of us, you see. The most feared, the most ruthless sell-sword.’ Wydrin smiled faintly. ‘He certainly had the skills for it – I’d never seen anyone fight like him, but that wasn’t really Seb.’ She grinned in the dark. ‘Oh, he was wild for a while and we got into some right scrapes, but in the end –’ She paused, searching for the right words. ‘In the end he became a steadying hand on the rudder. Sebastian’s a good man, and he can’t ever escape that.’

‘And Gallo?’

‘And Gallo,’ the blond man stepped forward, sketching them an elaborate bow, ‘is here to be your guide to the depths of the Citadel.’

‘It’s a good thing you turned up when you did.’ Sebastian appeared at his shoulder. ‘The architecture is distinctly unfriendly.’

Frith stood up.

‘You have explored this place? You have the map?’

‘My dear man, when you have come to know the Citadel as well as I do, you have no need for maps.’

Sebastian felt as though a dark cloud had been lifted from his heart.

The whole thing had been Gallo’s idea; break into the famous Citadel of Creos and carry off the loot. Simple enough, but no other adventurer had ever managed it – and that, of course, was the point. A story to tell in the taverns that no one else could rival, and, Gallo insisted, they would have more offers of work than they knew what to do with.

Sebastian had been reluctant. For one thing, no one was paying them to do it. Usually they raided a tomb or a temple because some half-sane crackpot was after the sacred gem of something or other, but even your biggest crackpots steered well clear of the Citadel. And secondly, they were shorthanded; Wydrin was away visiting with her brother Jarath, and not expected back for weeks. He insisted they wait: to gather information, find a patron, give Wydrin a chance to join them. Anything rather than take on the Citadel underprepared.

And Gallo’s patience, what little of it there was in the first place, had run out.

‘If you had come when I asked you to, none of this would have happened,’ said Gallo. ‘I couldn’t stand all that waiting and planning, Seb, you knew that. There were adventures to be had, places to be explored! Secrets to be uncovered. And, let me tell you, I have found a few.’

Wydrin and Frith were following on behind, both looking a little frazzled, but Frith looked up at the mention of secrets.

‘What is it you have found, exactly? I have paid your companions a great deal of money to explore this place, and if you have access …’

‘All in good time, my white-haired friend!’ Gallo called back over his shoulder. Lowering his voice, he leaned in to Sebastian. ‘Where did you find that one? He speaks like his tongue is made of silver but he looks like a mongrel’s favourite pissing post.’

Sebastian suppressed a chuckle.

‘He is the Lord of Blackwood, heir to Blackwood Keep. Fallen on hard times recently.’

Gallo nodded sagely. He turned to Wydrin and Frith and gave them his most charming smile.

‘You are tired, and hungry, and no doubt smelling quite terrible by now. I will take you to a place where we can rest for a while and eat. Then we can talk about what I have found here.’

But that wasn’t enough for Frith.

‘How is it you are still here? You have been here weeks, by my reckoning, yet you look none the worse for it.’

Gallo waved a hand at him dismissively.

‘I shall get to that. Here, down these steps and then there will be time for questions.’

They trooped down a winding staircase, so narrow that Sebastian’s shoulders brushed the stones on either side, until they came to a tall, thin set of doors. Gallo pushed them open and threw his arms out to his sides in a gesture of welcome.

‘I present to you, the banqueting hall of the mages! Come, sit and eat.’

They stepped into the room beyond. Wydrin swore softly under her breath. Sebastian shook his head as if to clear it.

It was a long room of dark grey marble, with a huge table running the length of it, and a hundred chairs set for dinner. On the walls were great stained-glass windows that shimmered in a thousand different colours, casting a rainbow of lights onto the stone floor. There was no possible way daylight could reach them down here, and yet they shone as if a bright summer’s day waited just outside. More extraordinary still was the contents of the table itself: it heaved with food.

‘How is this possible?’ asked Frith.

‘Who cares?’ cried Wydrin. ‘I’m half starved.’

‘A feast,’ said Sebastian as he approached the table
. ‘
Food fit for a king. For the mountain gods themselves.’

There were whole roast pigs with apples in their mouths, their skins crisp and glistening with fat. There were silver platters full of rich red meats, and wooden bowls full of potatoes, carrots and parsnips, steam rising off them gently as if freshly cooked. Tureens of huge, rainbow-scaled fish with their heads still on nestled next to smaller bowls filled with the tiny salted shoaling fish of the Yellow Sea, and the famous blue lobsters of Crosshaven. There were red apples stuffed with spiced raisins; fat golden pastries filled with cream and dusted with sugar; huge loaves of crusty bread pierced with toasted seeds, and whole hams, pink and juicy. And all around were tankards, flagons, bottles and barrels of beer, ale, wine, mead, brandy and Tocar, the fiery drink native to Pathania.

Wydrin took a seat and began tearing into a loaf of bread with her hands, while Frith approached more cautiously. He picked up a goblet of wine and sniffed it.

‘Magic?’

‘You could say that.’ Gallo walked the length of the table, plucking an apple from a silver tureen and polishing it against his sleeve. ‘Go on, eat. It’s not poisoned.’ He took a bite out of the apple and chewed with apparent relish. The crunch sounded very loud in the empty hall.

Sebastian realised how hungry he was. How long since they had eaten? He and Wydrin had grabbed a hurried breakfast of eggs and blood sausage at the Boiled Dog, but that had been so early the sun had barely been poking its shining brow above the horizon.

‘It must be late by now,’ he said. ‘We’ve probably missed more than one meal.’

With a lurch, Sebastian realised he had no idea what the time was, or even how long they had been inside the Citadel. Time was strange here, down in the dark between these secret walls, as though it were draining away down hidden cracks, pooling in unknown crevices. The thought made him uneasy, so he picked up a flagon of mead and took a long, deep swallow. It tasted of summer days, bright and unending.