Chapter 9 The Vault
The Vault
I sit back on my heels and observe the guard on the roof as she moves around the corner and out of sight.
It took a few weeks of investigation and monitoring of the place before I came up with a plan that wouldn’t immediately get me killed.
Based on what I learned, this approach offers the best hope for getting into and out undetected.
There are fewer torches on this side of the compound, and more outbuildings and trees to use as cover.
I count to thirty, and as expected, a different guard appears from the rear of the building.
He walks to the side entrance, and gives a firm tug on the door handle to ensure it’s locked.
Satisfied, he scans the yard before continuing on his route, disappearing into the darkness.
A few more minutes pass, and a second rooftop guard comes into view.
Thunder rolls in the distance. The guard spares a glance at the rumbling sky and pulls his cloak around himself, moving on.
The wind picks up, though the storm hasn’t yet made landfall.
If I time things properly and have luck on my side, I’ll be inside the building before it starts to rain and leaving when the downpour is in full swing.
There’s no counting on that, though. Weather off Lake Shadh can be difficult to predict.
Once the courtyard is free of guards, I strengthen my protection and cloaking spells and dash across the space between buildings, pressing myself into the shadows along the Vault wall.
It’s only a few steps to the door, but before I can move, a guard unexpectedly rounds the corner from the opposite direction.
I’m barely hidden, and though I don’t sense any dispelling magic, it’s still unnerving to be this close to someone while relying on Cloaking to keep myself unobserved.
With that in mind, I stay utterly still, keep my breathing slow and steady, and wait.
As the guard passes, I dart out and grab her from behind.
Though she may be missed faster than I’d prefer, knocking her out and having her regain consciousness before I’m miles away could mean I’m discovered even sooner.
In a split-second decision, I slap a hand over her mouth and plunge my dagger upward.
The wickedly sharp edge cuts through the leather armor easily and continues slicing into her diaphragm, piercing her heart.
She makes no sound as she slumps backward.
I drag the body into an out-of-the-way shadow, where it’s less likely to be found before daylight.
Crouching down, I extract my dagger from the corpse, wiping the blood on a thin patch of grass, and wait for the usual rotation to proceed.
When the next opening comes, I climb the few stairs to the side door and check for traps, easily detecting the spell that magically locks the door.
I press the Guild sigil on my palm against the lock and feel the satisfying click as the catch releases.
The door swings open silently, and I step inside.
There’s a slight prickling over my skin as I pass through the invisible wards.
It’s the only sign that the onyx-inked runes on my armor and skin have successfully masked me from the magical alarm.
I move quickly, fairly certain there aren’t additional Shades lurking in the building.
The non-magical traps would make it almost impossible to patrol in here without setting something off.
I stop just past the magical barrier anyway and wait to see if anyone makes themselves known.
When no one appears, I move cautiously toward the center of the room, constantly casting Detect Traps.
The main building is lined with massive bookcases filled with various tomes, scrolls, and artifacts.
More are displayed in cases throughout the room.
There are several large wooden tables with chairs, and four iron spiral staircases leading to an upper level.
The demarcation between the work area and the foyer is a line of black onyx pedestals of varying heights, with busts of past Guild Masters set like macabre guardians on the platforms.
The scroll I want is most likely in the small alcove at the far left of the main floor, but I have to cross the open entryway to reach it.
I examine one of the busts, careful not to touch anything.
A magical dampening field buzzes along my skin.
Fucking hells. It’s a nullification field.
Once I pass through that, my spells and magical protections won’t help me.
And these busts give me pause. The pressure to hurry is intense, but this isn’t a place to rush.
I have great respect for the witches who built this place and all the dangers it holds.
Without putting myself in their direct path, I examine every angle of the carvings.
There are tiny holes in the eyes, nose and mouth.
I carefully move to a second bust, looking for the same holes.
When I find them, I take a deep breath and exhale.
Fuck. Definitely a trap. Vindicated for my caution, I rest on my heels and consider my next move.
The holes might be decorative, but it’s more likely they’re apertures for the release of poison gas, and I need to avoid triggering them.
But what’s the trigger? Without much hope of success, I cast Detect Traps, focusing on the space in front of me. As expected, nothing happens.
Sighing, I reach into the pouch at my waist and carefully extract a vial of red liquid.
For good measure, I pull out the vial of clear liquid as well, and down both quickly.
I need to get across the entryway, and I trust my agility, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t trip whatever releases the gas that is obviously part of this particular trap.
I also can’t predict what the poison is, but it’s likely to be one of the more deadly toxins that can be aerosolized, and that limits the options. Hopefully I haven’t guessed wrong.
Carefully, I lie on the smooth floor and cautiously inch forward, pulling myself between two of the columns.
Keeping my head low to the ground, I put my entire weight on each tile as I progress.
Part of my brain urges me to move faster, whispering that someone will find me soon.
But didn’t I just prove that it’s better to be overly cautious and wrong than reckless and dead?
As I settle over the third onyx square, there’s a slight click as the tile settles.
With a hiss, a yellow cloud of gas oozes out of the eyes, noses, and mouths of the three closest statues.
The air takes on a sulfuric scent, like rotten eggs, and I hold my breath as I haul myself forward.
There’s still two-thirds of the floor to cross before I make it to the corner alcove.
I don’t feel any pain, nausea, dizziness or fatigue, other than what I might expect trying not to die while crawling across a deadly floor trap.
So my antidotes were most likely correct.
Though I suppose it could be a slow-acting poison which kills me later.
But I can’t dwell on those possibilities. I have a job to complete.
In spite of my precautions, I set off another set of the statues a few tiles further in, but the gas doesn’t seem to be affecting me, and the mistake provides a possible pattern to avoid further triggers.
This close to the floor, I spot an anomaly in the tiles.
A few more slabs to the left, just off the center of the room, is a square that’s slightly raised from the others surrounding it.
It’s not off by much, but it’s enough of an inconsistency that I skirt around it.
Given the location, and the trap I’ve already set off, it could release another toxin, or who knows what.
It could cause the bookcases to begin to move toward the center of the room, crushing me between the tomes.
By the time I reach the other end of the entryway, I’m damp with sweat, and my arms and legs are beginning to fatigue, but I’ve made it alive.
So far. I try not to consider how much time has passed or how I’ll get out of here without triggering anything else.
I make it past the last few squares of the onyx floor, and I’m only steps from my destination.
Pushing myself to a standing position, I pause and examine the area in front of me.
Not many within the cabal are aware of sanctioned contracts taken out on members of the Shabah.
If they knew that they could be targeted, there would be pandemonium within the ranks.
So the protections on the room where those contracts are stored must be intense.
As I approach the doorway to the alcove, there’s a slight pressure against my skin that gets stronger the closer I get.
There’s a bright flash of a Guild sigil on the wall and by pure instinct, I slap my palm against it, matching my sigil to it, before it fades.
The pressure releases with a sigh and I quickly step inside the alcove, taking a moment to mentally regroup.
Give me an opponent with a blade or sword and I’ll gladly take them apart.
But I’ve had enough of these secretive attacks.
It’s time to find what I need and get out of here.