Chapter 24 #2
It must be providing ventilation for the underground chambers. I suppose they probably need several of them. But we can’t reach those access points, small as they are, while the wards are in place.
The sight of the barred metal circle reminds me of a different hatch many weeks ago—the entrance to one of the royal army’s underground equipment stashes. It was guarded by a different sort of magic.
But that doesn’t mean the same solution wouldn’t work.
I look over at Rheave. “Do you remember how you’ve used your power to shatter other magic in the past? Do you think you could do the same thing to the wards around this place? Just… knock them out and dissipate the magic so the scourge sorcerers don’t get any warning?”
Rheave studies the landscape intently. He lifts his hand, and a few sparks shoot from his palm. They fade into the air ahead of us.
“I can feel it there,” he says. “It’s coming from different places… Let me try doing one.”
His stance tenses with his focus. He curls his fingers toward his palm and then splays them again in a sudden movement.
I don’t even see the power he’s sent out this time, only hear the soft crackle of it. But all at once, the tingle of nearby magic snuffs out completely.
“That did it!” I said. “At least near here. Let’s see if anyone seems to notice…”
We hold perfectly still for the space of a minute. The cool breeze tugs at my hair, but no one emerges from the building.
A smile stretches across my face. “All right. Let’s knock the rest of them out.”
While Rheave prowls around the facility in a second circle, I dash back to our companions to fill them in on the progress we’ve made. As soon as I mention the grate, Alek perks up. “I should take a look at that.”
The main reason the scholar joined us on this mission was to share his ideas for the best places to hit the facility to destroy it as quickly as possible.
He’s studied plenty of architecture in his years of research into Silanian history.
The fact that this architecture is mostly under the ground apparently isn’t too much of a setback.
With the third of Tinom’s concealment charms, he follows me back to the field. My breath comes easier when we walk past the marks Rheave made without any hint of magic touching my senses.
Alek kneels down by the grate, dangles his fingers between the bars, and then holds his hand flat over them to test the air flow. “I’d definitely expect there to be more than one if the underground structure extends this far from the center point,” he says.
With a quick search, we discover three more just on the hill-ward side of the facility. A light of inspiration gleams in Alek’s eyes that would make me nervous if he wasn’t on my side.
By that point, Rheave has finished disabling the wards. We all hustle to the hillside to confer with the full group.
“Exactly how many concealment charms do you have?” Alek asks Tinom first. “And how many other people do you think you could effectively divert attention from for several minutes?”
The magic advisor digs into his pouch. “I’ve managed to have two more blessed, which brings us to five. To be sure that no guards spot you, I wouldn’t want to risk extending my gift to more than three others. Eight won’t make for much of an offensive force.”
“The people won’t be doing most of the work. It’s about what they can carry.” Alek swivels toward Stavros, who’s acting general for this mission. “We brought those explosive materials. We can still use them even if we can’t see the building—through the grates.”
Stavros catches his enthusiasm. “Yes. We’ll have to set them off simultaneously for the best effect, because as soon as one goes off, the scourge sorcerers will go on the defensive. But that shouldn’t be difficult to manage. I’ll give a signal.”
The massive man turns toward our varied group of royal soldiers and local resistors.
“We’ll need volunteers to launch the explosives.
The rest of us will wait until the blasts have gone off, and then we’ll charge the building.
Anyone who emerges from below on the attack, we end them as quickly as possible before they can make much use of their magic.
In the chaos, we should be able to get the upper hand and make our way below to finish the job. ”
I lift my hand before anyone else needs to. “I’m obviously going with the first group.” If someone needs to jump in to prevent an unexpected disaster, I’ll have the best chance of averting it, as much as it might cost me.
Unsurprisingly, Rheave volunteers too. Alek raises his chin with an air of defiance. “It’s partly my plan. I should bear some of the risk.”
I want to protest that my brilliant but not particularly soldierly scholar should stay back here where it’s safer, but I can see how much it means to him to contribute in every possible way. My heart swells with more affection.
Tinom hesitates but offers to join us since it’ll be easier for him to conceal himself than anyone else—and easier to cast his gift for illusions over others if they’re nearby. Emor calls on a couple of his people to join him on the front lines, and one of the royal soldiers steps up as our eighth.
With an air of urgent anticipation hanging over us, we distribute the explosive supplies and the flints to set them off between us. Our other companions gather weapons and shields, Filip among them with a grim expression.
Stavros demonstrates a whistle that sounds like a hawk’s cry to set us in motion. “I’ll use my gift as well as I can to scan the grounds before I signal you. I don’t want any unexpected surprises if we can avoid them.”
As we nod, he reaches to give my shoulder a quick squeeze, as if willing me to return safely. I shoot him the most reassuring smile I can manage before we set off to do our duty.
The bundle of volatile substances in my hands makes my heart thump hard. I cradle the waxed tubes carefully as I lope across the grass, making for the far side of the facility.
So far there’s still no sign of the scourge sorcerers from the upper building, so our initial efforts must have gone undetected.
When I reach my chosen grate, I brace myself above it and loop the far end of the oiled cord around a bar to ensure I don’t lose hold of it. Then I sit back on my heels and wait.
My pulse thuds in my ears for what feels like an eternity before Stavros’s whistled signal carries across the fields.
I drop the explosives between the bars and strike my flint. As the tubes tumble down the tunnel beneath the grate, a hissing flame darts along the cord after them.
I snatch one of my knives from my boot and scramble backward to avoid the worst of the explosion.
A stuttered booming shatters the quiet of the afternoon. One set of explosives and another and another blast apart in quick succession. The ground shakes, a puff of dark smoke rising from my grate.
And four figures burst from the inner building.
Flares of magic send a tingling rush over my body, but the scourge sorcerers don’t know where to aim. I dodge the searing bolts of energy and charge right into one of the men, slamming my knife into his throat in the same motion.
The woman next to me staggers and collapses into a blackened corpse, telling me Rheave has made it to my side. Shouts ring out from the other side of the building, along with the thunder of more than a dozen racing feet.
I dash around the building in time to see Emor wrenching his dagger from a body that’s turned to clay. Two more forms hurtle out to attack us, but Stavros is there, cutting through one with his sword. One of the soldiers slays the other attacker.
Another tremor ripples through the earth, followed by an unearthly creaking. I spin around to see the ground collapsing around one of the grates, opening a sinkhole as big as the building we’re standing by.
As my jaw drops, someone yelps behind me. I whirl back around.
Filip is stabbing his spear into the side of a man who was ramming a sword toward me. He jerks backward as my would-be murderer transforms into a statue of clay.
I stare at the Order defector for a second, the hairs on the back of my neck on end. I shouldn’t have gotten distracted.
I never would have thought the man who once associated with the scourge sorcerers would save me from one of their creations.
“Thank you,” I manage to say.
Filip blinks at the spear he’s holding as if startled by his own act and then flashes a sudden grin my way. “I owed you, didn’t I? We’ll take them down together!”
I can’t help smiling back. “Yes, we will.”
Our group storms into the building and catches another wave of fleeing sorcerers and captured daimon just emerging from a deep stairwell. They don’t have even a chance to lash out with their magic before Emor’s followers leap in to cut them down.
It all goes quiet except for a few gasps and groans from below. Tentatively, we descend the stairs.
A short hall leads to a huge room. At the far end, chunks of the ceiling have collapsed by the doorways to other parts of the facility. The idea of rocks bashing down on the heads of the scourge sorcerers gives me a grim satisfaction.
The rest of the room is laid out with cots. More than half of those cots hold a body, some still clay, some looking like flesh, their chests rising and falling with shallow breaths.
A shiver travels down my spine.
Rheave rushes to the nearest beds holding bodies of flesh. He grips one figure by the shoulders. “Can you get up? Can you talk to me?”
The form doesn’t so much as twitch. I wince in understanding. “They mustn’t be fully animated yet.”
The daimon-man’s face falls. “We can’t do that awful magic ourselves.”
Alek speaks up quietly. “We’ll have to break the bodies so the daimon can go free. At least there won’t be a struggle.”
Rheave nods, but he still looks unsettled.
Stavros waves to us. “Come on, let’s do what we can for them and then blast the rest of this place to bits before the Order realizes we’re here.”
Tinom calls out from another doorway. “I’ve found at least a few of the sacrificial accomplices!”
As I hustle over to join him in helping the mutilated figures, the images of the vast room with its rows of bodies stick in my head. My skin turns clammy, and not just because of the dank atmosphere of the underground facility.
I’m surrounded by the beings the scourge sorcerers have used for their purposes—to expand their power and their reach.
It isn’t so different from how the gods apparently used the first riven, is it?
And the scourge sorcerers have called on their captured daimon again and again. They even managed to alter Rheave’s behavior briefly a few times in the past after he’d shaken off most of their influence.
How can I be sure no godlen will ever tap me again to use me for their own agenda?