Sorgrad and ’Gren crouched by his side, visions to terrify Poldrion’s own demons. A head appeared in the stairwell and the Elietimm man’s jaw dropped as he saw his dread master being butchered by the two eerie apparitions.
“He cut out that lad’s stones and eyes. Why don’t we swap his round?” ’Gren suggested in a low voice.
Ryshad looked at me and I wondered if I looked as unearthly to him as he did to me.
“You said do your worst.” I spoke before he could. “We don’t look, then we don’t have to know. Don’t worry. ’Gren’s on our side.”
“I’ll take your word for that.” Ryshad’s tone suggested we’d debate this further when people weren’t trying to kill us.
The awesome Eldritch Kin that was Shiv stepped forward, levelling its cold, gold spear. The Elietimm man froze on the stair, white faced and trembling in the darkness.
“Bless the ancestors who chose you to witness our retribution.” ’Gren looked up and hissed with silken spite.
“We curse Ilkehan to the ninth generation. Cursed be all who pervert the sacred lore.” Sorgrad rose, a figure born of nightmares, blood dripping from the ivory-handled knife to be greedily sucked up by scurrying rat-like shadows. “Thus to all who profane the compact between dead, living and yet unborn.” His words echoed around the stone walls so uncannily Shiv had to be working some magic on them. The reverberations followed the fleeing soldier down the stairs.
Then Shiv winked at me and I could see through the delusion of light and magic to the reality beneath. “Hurry up.”
We skirted round ’Gren and Sorgrad now chuckling evilly. Ryshad kicked in the door and we found a room dominated by a large table strewn with maps and parchments. A window embrasure held a sturdy chest of unmistakably Tormalin origin.
“In there.” It was locked. I reached for my picks.
“No time.” Ryshad grabbed a handle. “Dast’s teeth!” he rasped as he lifted it on to one shoulder.
Sorgrad appeared in the doorway. “We need to go now or there’ll be too many for us to break through.”
“We’re coming,” I assured him.
Scarlet flame danced on his outstretched palm. “Get clear.”
Sorgrad’s handful of fire skidded the length of the table, igniting everything in its path. The wall hangings blazed around us and I swear I felt the hair on my neck crisp as we raced through the doorway. “Curse it, ’Grad, you nearly fried us!”
“Main stairs or back?”
’Gren was standing by Ilkehan’s body, gory to his elbows. I tried not to see what had been done to the body and just about succeeded; apart from realising it wasn’t the enchanter’s tongue poking from his mouth.
Ryshad glanced down and swallowed hard. Even painted blue, I swear he blenched.
Shiv held the silver salver before him, magical fire from a scrap of burning cloth reflecting oddly on to his painted face. “I don’t have time for this, Planir. Just do what you can.” He shoved the metal inside his jerkin and threw the cloth away.
“Back stairs.” Ryshad jerked his head.
“Sorgrad,” I urged. “We’re leaving.”
“Just a moment.” He was crouched over Ilkehan, his back to me.
I moved to get a clearer look and then thought better of it. “You’ve done enough!”
“I promised I’d carve the boy’s name in this bastard’s forehead.” Sorgrad spoke with slow concentration.
“That won’t lead them straight to Olret?” snapped Ryshad.
“Not unless someone hereabouts can read Mandarkin script.” Sorgrad finished with a flourish of his blade sending drops of blood spattering the wall.
“Let’s go,” I begged.
“Stay close,” warned Shiv, raising his hands. Drawing them close, he flung another sweep of glittering magic ahead. The shadows took on a mossy hue, shifting into spectres of trees. We moved and they moved with us, dappled darkness shifting and changing, Eldritch shapes on the edge of sight passing all around us.
“Here.” Sorgrad reached for the other handle of the chest and Ryshad let it slide from his shoulder so they could carry it between them.
We reached the back stairwell, narrower and more steeply pitched than the one we’d come up. Shiv and I took the lead as we descended as fast as was still safely cautious, shadows alternately deepening and fading around us. The formless blackness shaped itself into foxes, rats and ravens that ran on ahead. The rushing sound that presages the most violent storms in the wildwood surged around our heads before scouring down the stairs.
“Pered’s not the only artist in your household, is he?” At the turn of the stair, I looked back to see Sorgrad and Ryshad balancing the chest between them, each with a blade in their free hand. Rearguard, ’Gren was coming backwards down the stairs, sword and dagger ready. I knew he’d done that often enough not to worry about falling.
As we reached the floor below, a handful of men braver than the rest charged us with viciously flanged maces. Shiv sent them reeling back with a brutal storm of hail crystallising out of the very air. The ice was sharp enough to draw blood from faces and hands before falling to the floor and flowing together to coat the flagstone with lethal slipperiness. The soldiers fell heavily as they struggled to stand, more interested in retreating than pursuit. We ran on down the stairs and along the one corridor we found not peopled with panicked Elietimm. New screams of anguish and horror echoed from the floor where we’d left Ilkehan.
“Over there.” Ryshad nodded to a sturdy double door as we found ourselves in a lofty entrance hall.
Shiv raised a hand and the wood darkened, swelled and ruptured. The metal bands and hasps rusted before our very eyes.
“Come on.”
’Gren brought up his distinctly non-magical boot to kick at it. The rotten wood sagged from splitting hinges now just metal flakes held together by corrosion. I ripped at the wood and we hammered out a hole big enough for Ryshad and Shiv.
“What’s out there?” Sorgrad was barely visible as Shiv filled the entrance hall with roiling shadows to baffle our pursuers hesitant on the fringes of the unknown darkness.
I squinted cautiously through the splintered gap. “Courtyard and the main gate which looks very much locked. Some troops and it’s a safe bet more are on their way”
“How much more have you got in you?” Ryshad looked sharply at the mage.
“Enough,” the wizard assured us. The illusions concealed him as thoroughly as ever but we all heard the weary note in Shiv’s voice. “Sorgrad can try a few of the tricks Larissa taught him, if he likes.”
“No holds barred?” I’ve never seen Sorgrad at a loss in all the years I’d known him and I was relieved beyond measure to see this was no exception.
“That’s battlefield rules, according to Halice.” I glanced at Ryshad.
“It may not be a usual kind of war but they started it.” He shrugged. “ ’Gren, help me with this.”
The brothers swapped places by the chest and Sorgrad stepped up to the breach in the door. He clapped his hands together and a sheet of flame sprang up, spreading to encircle us all. The damp chunks of broken wood hissed and steamed and the firelight played eerily among the shadows that Shiv was still keeping as black and impenetrable as ever.
“Let’s get out of here while they’re all still gawping,” I suggested. If Ilkehan’s people could barely see us, we could barely see them and that made me nervous.
“Slowly, concentrate.” Shiv’s calm voice encouraged Sorgrad and we began walking towards the main gate. Slingshot whizzed into the flames where the stones shattered into razor-sharp, red-hot fragments. I swallowed an un-Eldritch yelp as one stung me on the face.
“What about the gate?” asked Ryshad tightly.
“Just get ready to run,” Sorgrad replied through clenched teeth.