Chapter 37
The mountain track wound upward through a darkness so complete it seemed to swallow the light from the enchanted lanterns strapped to their saddles.
Viggo urged his horse onward, every muscle coiled with tension as the animal picked its way along the treacherous path. The Austrian Alps loomed around them, their peaks invisible against the starless sky, their presence a crushing weight of ancient stone and ice felt rather than seen.
They’d left Vienna three hours ago, pushing their mounts as hard as they dared on roads that grew narrower and more perilous with every mile.
Schmidt and Laurenz had hastily arranged the horses for them, along with winter clothing and necessary equipment.
The route they’d chosen to take was the original one the monks who’d built the monastery had used.
It was now barely in use according to the surveyor who had provided Schmidt with the map.
The map now seared into Viggo’s memory.
The surveyor’s careful annotations had marked switchbacks, unstable sections, and, most importantly, the final approach to St. Aegidius.
Evander rode beside him, his face tense in the dim light. Behind them came Solomon, Rufus, and Fairbridge, their horses’ hooves clattering against loose stone.
“How much farther?” Solomon’s voice was rough, stripped raw by the cold and hours of silence and worry.
“Another hour, perhaps two,” Evander replied, his breath misting in the frigid air. “The monastery sits near the summit. This path will become too steep for the horses soon. We’ll have to continue on foot.”
Richter had been in the process of mobilising a full contingent from the Viennese Arcane Division when they’d left the city: twelve mages and twenty officers to be precise, all armed with anti-magic weapons.
The inspector had promised to leave within an hour of them and would approach from the eastern route, which was longer but necessary for the larger force.
Viggo’s jaw tightened. He just hoped they got here in time to help them save Ginny and Shaw.
Both women were tough, resourceful, and more dangerous than most men would give them credit for. But against a dark mage who’d cheated death itself, who commanded shadow creatures and wielded Blood Magic? They wouldn’t stand a chance.
Evander guided his horse closer to Viggo’s, their knees almost brushing.
“We may have to split up when we get inside,” he said quietly.
Unease coiled through Viggo. He nodded nonetheless. “That crossed my mind.”
The monastery was vast and there would be a lot of ground to cover. They didn’t really have an option.
Even in the low light of the lanterns, he could see the strain etched into Evander’s features; the tight line of his mouth, the shadows beneath his eyes, and the white-knuckled grip on his reins told their own story.
“We’ll get them back,” Viggo reassured.
“I know.” But Evander’s voice lacked conviction.
“Ginny’s tougher than she looks. So is Shaw.” Viggo reached across the gap between their horses and squeezed Evander’s arm briefly. “They’ll hold on until we reach them.”
Evander’s eyes met his in the darkness.
“They’d better. Because if Winchester or his lackeys have harmed them, there won’t be enough left of those bastards to bury.”
The cold fury in his voice sent a shiver down Viggo’s spine. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. He’d seen Evander in battle, had witnessed the devastating power the mage could unleash when pushed.
The path grew steeper, forcing them to slow their pace.
Loose stones skittered away beneath their horses’ hooves, tumbling into the darkness of the ravine below.
To their left, the cliff face rose, sheer and forbidding.
To their right, darkness yawned, a drop of hundreds of feet to the valley floor.
A light snow started falling. It grew in intensity until it fairly blanketed the sky and their surroundings.
Evander raised his hand, signalling a halt. “We go on foot from here. The path ahead is too treacherous for the horses.”
They dismounted and tethered the animals loosely to some gnarled pines that clung stubbornly to the mountainside. Viggo patted his horse’s neck, feeling the beast’s nervous energy beneath its sweat-dampened coat.
“Stay,” he murmured. “We’ll be back.”
The horse whinnied softly.
The climb that followed was brutal. Viggo’s thighs burned within minutes, his lungs straining in the thin mountain air as his boots sank into deepening snow.
Behind him, he could hear Solomon’s harsh breathing and Rufus’s occasional muttered curse as he tripped on unseen obstacles in the worsening snowstorm.
Evander led the way, his earth magic creating handholds and footholds where the path grew too treacherous while his wind magic steadied them when they stumbled and protected them from the heaviest of the snowfall. Fairbridge brought up the rear, keeping watch for any sign of pursuit or ambush.
An hour passed.
They saw the lake first, a solid sheet of ice that covered the floor of the narrow valley to their right.
St. Aegidius emerged from the darkness ahead like a forbidden fortress.
The monastery clung to the cliff face as if grown from the living rock, its ancient walls rising in tiers toward a bell tower that pierced the sky like a skeletal finger.
Windows that once glowed with candlelight now gaped black and empty.
The whole structure leaned outward over the precipice and the ice-locked waters below, as if defying gravity.
“We do this quietly,” Evander said in a hard voice. “Go in, find Ginny and Shaw, get them to safety, then take on Winchester and his group and try to locate the Das Blutbuch.”
Viggo and the others nodded grimly. With only five of them against an unknown number of dark mages, stealth was their best chance of success.
They scrambled up the final stretch of path, keeping to the shadows. Viggo spotted guards patrolling the main gate; two robed figures whose movements projected the lazy confidence of men who didn’t expect any trouble.
Their route took them around the monastery’s western flank, to a section of wall that Schmidt’s map had marked as weakened by age and neglect and that backed onto an outhouse.
Evander pressed his palm against the crumbling stone and focused.
It groaned, cracked, and crumbled inward with a muffled crash that was drowned out by the howling wind.
They clambered through the gap and found themselves inside a dilapidated privy. The stink of piss and human waste rose thickly from a pit to their left.
Evander crept to the door ahead of everyone and peered through a gap between the wooden planks.
“Two guards, eighteen feet ahead and to the left,” he warned. “No dark mages nearby from what I can sense.”
“Then, let’s not waste this opportunity,” Viggo murmured.
They emerged silently from the shed, the wind masking the sound of the creaking door.
The first guard registered their presence just as Viggo crept up behind him. The Brute’s fist connected with the man’s temple before he could raise an alarm, dropping him like a stone. Solomon took out the second guard just as ruthlessly.
They dragged the bodies into the shadows next to the outhouse and paused to take stock of their surroundings.
The monastery loomed against the mountain ahead, a complex of buildings linked by cloisters arranged around courtyards.
They located the door they’d identified as their best point of entry, Fairbridge skilfully taking care of the lock. They were inside a narrow, cold corridor a moment later.
“Which way?” Rufus whispered.
Evander consulted Schmidt’s map, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“The monastery has three levels below ground. If Winchester is holding hostages, the monastic prison on the lowest floor is the most likely place.” He traced a finger along the surveyor’s annotations.
“But there are also the prayer cells, in the eastern section, on the top floor.” He folded the map and met each of their gazes in turn.
“We need to cover both locations. If we stay together, we risk missing Ginny and Shaw entirely or walking into Winchester and his men with no way to flank them.”
Viggo’s jaw tightened. He still hated the idea of splitting up.
“I’ll take the dungeons,” he said. “Solomon, you’re with me.”
Solomon nodded curtly, his expression hard with determination.
“Take Fairbridge,” Evander said. “His magic might come in handy.”
Fairbridge and Viggo both frowned at this.
Evander sighed at their expressions. “I’m an Archmage. That alone makes up for the fact that there will be just me and Rufus going upstairs.”
Viggo couldn’t exactly argue with this. Fairbridge still looked unhappy but gave a curt nod.
“Remember, whoever finds Ginny and Shaw first, get them out.” Evander’s voice brooked no argument as they prepared to part ways. “Their safety comes first.”
Viggo caught Evander’s arm before he could turn away.
“Be careful,” Viggo murmured.
“You too.” Evander’s hand briefly covered his. “I’ll see you soon.”
Then he was gone, disappearing down the corridor with Rufus at his heels.