Caim blew into his cupped hands to warm them. He stood with his fighters in a dark alleyway off Trepmire Avenue, a corridor of furrier stores and taxidermists in the city’s upper west end. The street had one shining feature: it gave a clear view to the citadel at the heart of the city. He was following his instincts at this point. They had gotten him this far.
Kit huffed. “It’s a mark past midnight already. What are we waiting for?”
In defiance of the cold, or perhaps just to tweak his nose, she wore a slinky white dress. Past midnight. Caim counted days in his head. Gods above. Today is Yuletide.
Hoping the holy day wasn’t a bad omen, Caim leaned out of the alley. The contrast with Othir couldn’t have been starker. In the south, Josey’s city would be festooned with lights and holly wreaths. People were still out this late, visiting with family and friends. But here, the frozen streets were empty. No people, no lights. But there were plenty of bodies to be seen as they infiltrated the city. It looked like a war had been fought inside the walls, and he couldn’t tell who had won. They’d heard the roar of battling mobs in distant streets and seen the glow of fires erupting all across Liovard, but with Kit’s help he’d been able to steer his men around the trouble spots. It reminded him of the riots in Othir, but these people seemed almost crazed, some half naked as they attacked everything and everyone around them.
Once inside the old city, Ramon and Angus had taken their men and split off on a different track, something to which they were well suited and prepared. Waiting for their signal, he hoped they knew what they were doing.
Keegan came up to stand beside him. The youth was wrapped in his cloak. His hands were gloved, his face blackened with soot. Caim told him before they embarked not to hold back. Tonight, they hunted in earnest. By the look in his eyes, the boy had taken that to heart.
“Well. What are we waiting for?”
Caim looked from Kit to Keegan, then ignored them both.
“Caim,” Kit whispered.
He felt it, too. A bizarre undercurrent in the city, stronger than before, setting his nerves on edge. Then distant bells began to ring, and a new glow lightened the east side of the city. That was the signal. Caim took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. It was time for the next phase of his plan. The idea was simple. He’d done it before without trying, but never on such a scale. True, he had been fighting for his life in those moments, but if he did it by accident, he could do it deliberately. So why are my hands shaking? Stop stalling.
He pictured a place. He’d never been there, but he had a rough description. That would have to be enough. An image formed in his mind, an empty courtyard paved in broad stone blocks surrounded by gray walls. He added battlements and defensive towers. When the picture was as real as he could make it, Caim reached out with his mind. Whispers chattered at his back as an empty hole appeared in the air at the mouth of the alley. It remained steady for a pair of heartbeats, but then the edges began to ripple. The strain of holding the gateway open was more than he had anticipated.
Caim beckoned the men standing behind him. “Move! Quick!”
Keegan was the first in line. With only a brief glance at Caim, he ducked his head and jumped through the portal. For a moment, Caim thought the rest might balk, but one by one they entered. By the time the last of his team had crossed over, his entire body was shaking, and the edges of the portal wavered. Hoping Keegan remembered his instructions, Caim dove through.
Darkness closed over his eyes, and the air froze in his lungs as he passed through the void. A tearing sensation pulled at his flesh. It might have lasted for one heartbeat or a dozen, but then the night sky reappeared before his feet struck hard-packed earth. It took him a moment to gain his bearings. As his sight cleared, Caim made out the battlements atop a massive barbican, stone walls studded with square towers, and the keep squatting within their embrace. He had expected some kind of reception-a few sentries on the walls, at least-but there was no one here. That bothered him more than a little. It didn’t seem possible Ramon’s diversion had attracted every soldier in the citadel.
A soft glow surrounded him as Kit appeared. Instead of a quip and a grin, she greeted him with a frown.
“I don’t like this.”
“Me neither,” he said under his breath.
“This place has a bad aura. Like a lot of people died here recently.”
“Just get inside and poke around. We need to find the duke.”
“Be careful.” She leveled a stern glance at him as she vanished.
The outlaws hunkered against the base of the nearest wall. Caim found Keegan standing over one of the men, who was writhing on the flagstones and clutching his knee.
“What happened?”
Keegan looked up. “Iain slipped coming out of that circle thing and broke his leg.”
“I just twisted it,” the outlaw said.
Caim could see the knee joint was dislocated. This fighter was no longer of use to them. He told the others.
“I can make it,” Iain argued.
Caim shook his head. “You’ll slow us down.” To Keegan he said, “Put him someplace out of sight. Make sure he stays quiet.”
He didn’t say they would come back for him. Everyone understood the risks and accepted them. While a pair of men carried Iain to a dark corner of the courtyard, Caim beckoned to Keegan, and they both went over to the gate that separated them from the keep. Like the sallyport across the bailey, the inner gate was open and unmanned. There was a guard station on the other side, but it was dark. Caim listened for a dozen heartbeats, but heard nothing. The post was abandoned.
He stepped closer to Keegan and kept his voice down. “Once we get inside, keep everyone close on my heels. If we get separated, remember what I taught you. If someone falls-”
“We won’t let you down.”
Aye, but what if I can’t hold up my end of the bargain?
Caim swallowed his anxiety while Keegan gathered the outlaws. When everyone was ready, Caim drew his blades. The black sword shook in his hand. Blood pounded in his temples. The faces of the men around him appeared leaner and grimmer. With a deep breath, Caim dipped inside the doorway and sprinted across the pavestones.
The inner keep was a vast square with angled walls to provide for enfilading fire. Caim stared down fifty arrow loops as he ran across the courtyard. There could be a company of archers behind them, waiting to feather him. He didn’t slacken his pace until he reached the door. Finding it ajar, he swung it open with the knife. No guards here, either. The worry that had begun as a tickle at the nape of his neck was now stomping up and down his spine.
No sentries. Unguarded gates. An unlocked door leading into the central keep. Why do I feel like an undertaker digging his own grave?
Caim waited ten breaths for the others to get across the bailey. Then he eased inside the doorway. Two armored figures waited inside. He started to attack the one to his left, but checked the sword’s arc before it landed. These men were dead. Both slumped against the walls; one with a broken sword blade jutting from his chest, the other missing the top half of his head. As Caim’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw more bodies farther in, all slain in a vicious brawl within the past couple candlemarks, judging by the wetness of the blood on the floor and walls, and sprayed across the ceiling.
When the first outlaws reached the door, Caim held out a hand to forestall them. Moving down the long atrium alone, he reached out to the shadows. In a dark place such as this, he expected them to come flocking to his call, but there was only a faint chitter. He could feel them around him, but they weren’t eager to come out. He made the summons more demanding, and after a few moments coaxed a pair of small shadows to his side. He needed spies, at least until Kit returned from her reconnaissance excursion. He urged the ebon blobs to go out and gather intelligence as they had done before, but they just crawled up his ankle and clung to the fastenings of his boots. What the hell?
With a growl, Caim started ahead, trusting Keegan to follow. He moved down the entryway into a taller room, a killing chamber in typical fashion. Arrow slots lined the chamber walls, all angled downward to fill the space below with lethal fire. But they watched silently this night. Three stout doors faced him, one in the wall straight ahead and one on either side. Caim had seen the inside of enough fortifications to have a general idea of where they needed to go. The keep would be built around a central hall. The upper floors would be occupied by storage, kitchens, and living quarters. He expected to find his primary target on the top level, but every castle was unique, and this one was big enough to sport a variety of changes. He had already decided to start with the great hall.
Not waiting for the outlaws, Caim stole up to the door on the left and nudged it open. Inside was a dark corridor, likely leading to the servants’ wing which might have its own staircase to the higher floors. But something drew him to the door at the end of the chamber. He crossed the room, mindful of the arrow loops above, but stopped short of touching the door. A presence loomed on the other side. All right, Kit. Anytime now.
Keegan entered the chamber, his falcata held high as if expecting an attack at any moment. “What happened here? Why’d they kill each other?”
“I’m not sure,” Caim answered. “Something’s not right-”
Kit popped into view in front of him. “Caim, they’re coming!”
“Who?” The question spilled from his mouth before he remembered he wasn’t alone.
Keegan frowned. “Who what?”
Caim grimaced as the presence returned, much stronger, coming from behind him. He jumped in front of Keegan and the brothers as the right-hand door swung open and a dark shape exited. The intruder wore a suit of exotic armor, black metal plates sliding soundlessly over ebon mail. Caim recognized the design at once as a slimmer version of the Beast’s protective shell. The figure raised a long curved sword with a night-black blade as it advanced.
The shadow warrior was fast. Damned fast. Before he took a full step into the room, two blurs shot from his off-hand, and two outlaws in the middle of the chamber crumpled. Caim leapt forward and made a lunging parry in front of Keegan, but before he could launch a counterattack, the shadow warrior spun out of the engagement. Another outlaw, Siman, went down missing half his face. Caim rushed at the shadow warrior from the side and swung his sword in a wide swipe that didn’t come close, but it caught his opponent’s attention. The shadow warrior ignored the outlaws as he turned to Caim with a vicious series of attacks. As he circled away, Caim remembered fighting Levictus, and the speed of the sorcerer’s movements. The shadow warrior’s quickness forced him to fight by intuition. He tried to stay in close where he could use his knife, but the shadow warrior kept him at bay. Every time Caim thought he spotted an opening, the black scimitar was there to cut him off.
Keegan slammed shut the door behind the shadow warrior, placing himself in the path of the enemy’s retreat. Brave boy. I hope it doesn’t get you killed.
Caim hissed as the point of the ebon scimitar twisted past one of his parries and sliced across the top of his left wrist. He hopped back a pair of steps and clenched both fists tighter around his hilts. The cut burned like red-hot iron across the skin. The shadow warrior followed him, curved sword moving in constantly changing patterns. Beads of sweat trickled under Caim’s shirt as he blocked a double thrust. The tension in his chest, rather than alleviating, was growing stronger. Then he realized he could feel a second presence, coming from…
Caim turned as the other side door opened and another shadow warrior appeared. The outlaws were too busy watching the duel to notice, and two of them fell to a black staff before they even realized they were in danger. Caim jumped clear of the sword wielder and, with a snap of his wrist, sent his knife hurtling across the room. It sailed straight, but the second shadow warrior batted it aside with his staff and moved to engage the others. Caim was there an instant before he could enter the room.
Caim heard shouts from behind him, but he put all his focus on this second warrior. His opponent’s staff had sharp blades at both ends. They were everywhere, spinning, slicing, darting back and forth. It was all Caim could do to keep from getting spitted on the agile weapon. The sword’s hilt warmed in his palm. He made a desperate thrust, aiming for the upper thigh. Just before it connected, the shadow warrior stepped back and vanished into a pocket of darkness.
Growling in frustration, Caim snatched up his knife. The other shadow warrior was surrounded by Keegan and the brothers, Dray and Aemon, and a short outlaw with a hood over his features. For a moment, Caim thought it was Liana. Then he remembered helping Keegan scatter her ashes in the hills above the castle, and his thoughts turned dark.
The shadow warrior slipped past Aemon’s spear and cut his legs out from under him. As the brother fell, the enemy launched himself at Caim. Their swords met with a screeching clang, sprang apart, and rushed at each other again. Keegan ducked in low from a flank and tried to score a hit, but with a deft move the warrior whirled out of the path of the attack. Caim lunged and caught on the flat of his blade the blow that would have disemboweled the youth.
The others retreated as Caim pressed the shadow warrior. The enemy’s attacks, which had seemed so quick only moments ago, had slowed to a more manageable speed. Or maybe he was catching up. The black sword seemed lighter in his hand, like he was wielding a reed cane instead of a blade. Caim blocked a stroke aimed at his side and tied up the scimitar long enough to dip inside the warrior’s guard. The suete knife flashed. Once, twice, and found flesh in the armpit joint on the third punch. The shadow warrior hissed and backed away. A moment later, he was gone in an eddy of dark shadows.
Caim let his arms fall to his sides as he fought to catch his breath. Kit came up through the floor.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He stepped back from the outlaws where they huddled around their fallen comrades.
“Where did they come from?”
“I don’t know.” She reached out to touch a tear he hadn’t noticed across the breast of his jacket. A couple inches deeper and… “But they aren’t alone. There are a bunch of creepy things crawling through this place.”
As he considered that, Caim called out to Keegan. “Gather up everyone to move. Take out some of the torches we brought and get them lit. We don’t have much time. More will be coming.”
“What about the wounded?”
The outlaws stood over the fallen men with dour expressions on their sooty faces. Caim looked down at Aemon, sitting against the wall with a pained expression as Dray tied a tourniquet around his leg. They’re useless to me, all of them. He bit his tongue to still the bloody thoughts colliding inside his skull.
“Leave them.”
“No fucking way,” Dray said. “I’m staying with him.”
Caim squeezed the hilts of his weapons. The presence had returned. Four presences, actually. The strongest was behind the door at the far end.
“When is this going to end?” he whispered.
Feathery tickles ran down his arm as Kit laid a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful what you ask for, love.”
With a grunt, he called Keegan over. The left-side door, heading west, felt like the direction of least resistance. “Take everyone through there. Look for a way around to the main hall.”
“Where will you be?”
“I’m aiming to be there before you. If not, you know what to do.”
Keegan frowned, but he began ushering his people to the doorway. Caim watched the outlaws exit. When they were gone, he turned to the north. The black sword thrummed in his hand. It was hungry.
“What’s through there?”
Dray looked over, but then turned his attention back to his injured brother. The men had their weapons arrayed on the floor close at hand. Spears, knives, a bow and a brace of arrows.
Kit hovered close. “I don’t know. It’s one of the places I can’t see. I’m sorry, Caim. I can try again. It’s just…”
“No. We’ll go together.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Oh, but it is, Kit. It’s been too late for a long time.
With a grim smile, he kicked open the door.