Shadowblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 1)

TINY POINTS OF DIM phosphorescence flicker ahead, a ghostly hint of light in the utter blackness. Kashia must have been waiting to provide lights for each small group as they reached the entrance. Marin had warned us the tunnel is longer than one might expect from looking at the city walls, as it runs through one of the large buttresses to give defenders more time to drop their nasties on teams of invaders trying to get in.

Or in this case, people like us trying to get out.

I have been expecting the screams since the moment I stepped inside but the shock still stabs through me when the shrill cries suddenly erupt just ahead, almost drowned in the grinding crash of falling rocks.

For a moment it looks as if the tunnel is blocked ahead. I try to find a pulse in the arm sticking out from under the pile. Nothing. No one would have survived boulders that size. I don’t know why I imagined they would only be as big as my fist.

The few seconds delay while I was collecting the light-stick from Kashia has saved my life. I am the only one marooned on the wrong side of the blockage, but at least I’m not underneath it. An awkward scramble to the top of the heap and then a tight squeeze to wriggle through the narrow gap between the boulders and the ceiling.

I’m expecting at any second another avalanche to crash out of the hole above and crush me into a pink pulp on the top of the rockpile. When I finally force my scraped limbs out of the squeeze and down to the tunnel floor I can see the trail of sticky blood where casualties have been dragged away by survivors. Every step I take, I expect to hear the growl of more rocks loosed from above to crush me into the ground, but when the screams come they are ahead of me and there is no sound of falling boulders.

I can smell the scorched flesh even as I feel the rock-floor beneath my feet grow slick with the spreading pool of rapidly-cooling oil. Jared has turned back to help Deris rescue the injured. We grab the nearest casualties and drag them mercilessly to the end of the tunnel. It must be horribly painful for them but has to be better than getting caught in the next searing oil-flood. Then we are out of the far end and onto the moonlit hillside skirting the city.

Marin is waiting with a few of the stronger men from the slave-prison. Three of them pick up our casualties and head for the trees at the foot of the slope.

“Four still in there,” I gasp as the cool night air suddenly hits lungs seared with burning oil fumes. Deris leads the other men back into the tunnel while Marin grabs my arm and almost drags me down the slope to the shadows under the trees. A few arrows whistle past us but the stupid archers had probably blinded themselves with torches like the other guards. By the time they regain their night vision we’re out of sight of the sentries on the walls.

“We have to create a distraction to protect the others when they come out. I left some torches over here.” Marin lights two of them and hands one to me. We move away from the route the others will take and start dodging in and out of the trees. With luck it looks like several people scattering into the forest with torches.

A few shafts thud into the trunks of the trees on the forest edge. I had assumed, or at least hoped, that the forest had been allowed to grow only as far as the range of an arrow loosed from the top of the city wall. Unless Rapathian bows are bigger than ours as well as their swords…

A shrill whistle from Deris means we can desist from dancing with death and torches. I douse mine in a pile of wet leaves and catch up with Marin as he heads deeper into the trees.

“Marin, what and where is the Rose Mansion?”

He tries to stifle a groan. “I thought I didn’t see anyone who might be your sister coming out of that tunnel. Is that where she is?”

“Fairly sure. Seven of them were taken and Jared said one of the guards mentioned the name. But I’ve never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t. They try to keep it quiet. High-class, discreet, no scandal for wealthy merchants and aristocrats who have to keep up appearances with their arranged marriages.”

“Remind me to revise my opinion of a king who lets this sort of thing get established right under his nose. Where is it?”

“Halfway along the Avenue of Roses, between the palace and the merchant quarter. But you are not going back there. We have to move everyone away from the city before the Rapathian search parties get on our trail.”

I open my mouth to argue––and then close it again. I can tell that he is not going to change his mind on this. I follow him in silence until we catch up with the others and he starts giving orders to the Eldrin to get the wounded onto horses. As soon as his attention is fully engaged with appointing a leader to take each group on a different route through the forest, I slow my steps and move cautiously away from him.

Then I double back towards the city.

I REACH ONE OF THE offering-stones to the Five Warriors at the edge of the trees near the city. I hesitate. The thin lines of inlaid quartz forming the five pointed star gleam silver in the moonlight against the obsidian surface.

I hadn’t stopped to make my good-luck offerings when I came past with Deris in case he felt it would be sacrilege for a Blade adept to approach the sacred space. Setting off on a silent and dangerous mission had not seemed like a good time to experiment with my team-mate’s religious attitudes.

Now the only person I have to worry about is myself. But still I hesitate, unsure how the shades of the Warriors themselves would feel, if asked to help someone like me. Maybe it would be better to avoid the whole issue until I can figure out who or what I have become.

I walk on past the star.

I consider using the tunnel to get back inside the walls, but dismiss the idea. It must be the most watched-over spot in the city by now. I have no idea how much smoother the surface of the wall will be on the far side from where Deris and I entered earlier but I have to take that chance.

I reach the spot that looks the most shadowy and hidden from view. The city seems quiet on this side. All the guards’ attention is focused on the side where we made our escape. But Marin was right in directing us where he did for our first climb, as I soon find out. The holds are far more precarious here, the gaps between the stones tighter. I notice the burns on my arms and legs from the last drops and splashes of the oil in the tunnel. If my fingers had been burned as well, I would have no chance of making it up this vertical face.

Even so, I’m already tired, my fingers screaming that they have had enough. After what seems an eternity I scramble over the top. I can’t down-climb what I’ve just done even with the extra training and practice. Alina will have no chance. Maybe we will have to risk the tunnel after all.

Worry about it later.

Immediate problems are twofold. First, I don’t know the layout of Corinium beyond the market and the route I took earlier to reach the slave-pen. Vaguely heading in the direction of the palace is going to prove inadequate very soon.

Second, I’m increasingly aware of my lack of experience in how to interpret the city at night. My enhanced senses pick up sounds and smells, but I can’t make sense of the details. A rustling from an alleyway has me backing against the wall, blade ready, but I see nothing in the moon-shadows.

Probably a rat.

Voices raised around the next corner. Definitely not a rat, but I’m fighting for the nuances of what is happening so I can take advantage of anything useful. I need to be faster than the precious few seconds it takes to work things out.

This one is easy, at least on the surface. Aggressive Rapathian-accented Samarian demanding name and purpose, followed by a timid response and a string of excuses for breaking the curfew from one of the local inhabitants. Then the clink of coin changing hands and the sound of a sharp blow, a cry of pain and a harsh order to the victim to get out of sight.

Well, at least I learned something about how things work around here. They have issued a curfew in response to the breakout and innocents have to resort to bribery if they want to stay alive. I turn into another avenue, this one fronted by merchants’ emporia, all heavily shuttered.

I must be in the right area now but have no idea how to identify the Rose Mansion and with the curfew there is no one around to ask. Except Rapathian guards. Even with my limited experience they are bottom of my list as suitable sources of information.

More voices, just around the next corner. The city must be thick with guards! So much for most of them running into the forest looking for escaped slaves. I glance behind, trying to figure out the best way to run––

Someone grabs my arm and drags me into a doorway. I reach for a weapon when cool fingers press hard against my neck and my arm freezes. Marin didn’t teach me that move. An angry voice hisses in my ear.

“Ariel! What in hellfire are you doing back here?”

I relax as much as anyone can with induced paralysis affecting half my body.

“Kashia. Let go of me. I’m not going to kill you now I know it’s you and not the guards. I’m looking for the Rose Mansion. Not all the slaves were imprisoned in the pen we just liberated.”

“Where’s Marin?” I can tell from the movement of her body she is looking around anxiously.

“Getting everyone away from the city. Better chance of going unnoticed if I’m alone.”

Kashia releases my arm. I turn to see her face in the moonlight. She looks suspicious. With their strong focus on teamwork, I have a feeling Eldrin rarely operate without backup. I need something to distract her or she’ll drag me off the streets before I have found Alina.

“How did you know I was here?”

She gives a slight twitch of impatience. “I have spies and distractions all over the city. A spy saw you come over the wall. And now one of my distractions has a black eye and an empty purse from keeping the Rapathian patrol away from you.” Kashia peers into the street and gives a series of high-pitched whistles. From somewhere above comes a response.

“This way.” She grabs my arm again and leads me on a meandering route toward the palace, relying mainly on narrow service alleyways between the tall stone buildings. At last we stop at the junction with a broad avenue leading gently uphill. Kashia points to a carved corner stone. A rose.

“Avenue of Roses. Home of the most expensive emporia in the city. Makes it easy for the Rose Mansion’s clients to buy lavish presents for their wives on their way home.”

The anger boils inside me at the casualness of her comment but I try to keep my voice calm through gritted teeth.

“Not for much longer. I’m getting Alina out of there.”

“Only Alina?”

I suddenly see my mistake. Kashia’s tone tells me she has figured out that I came here without Marin’s permission. The Eldrin would not risk the lives of friends and colleagues just to rescue one person if it was in their power to help everyone. The welfare of the whole city or country would always come first.

“Kashia, Marin and the others are all safely away from the city and many of the guards have been sent to search for them. This is the best distraction I’m ever likely to get. Alina and I are making our own way from here. Just show me how to get in and then go home before you’re caught breaking curfew.”

I watch her frown as she tries to work out the quickest way to extricate herself and her loyal friends from the mess I just created for her. She gives an exasperated shrug.

“Best I get rid of you here then. The Rose Mansion is the fourth building up the avenue with roses growing over the arched entrance. But you won’t get through the door without either a letter of introduction or being well known as a regular client.” She points upwards. “Use the roofs.”

The Rose Mansion is not the only building with vines artistically trained around the entrance porticos. A fashion the wealthy city owners copied from the Sylvani. I like the irony.

“Thanks Kashia.” I don’t wait for an answer and shim up the twisting stems to the stone canopy above the nearest entrance, thinking myself lucky this plant doesn’t have thorns. In a heady rush of anticipation at seeing my sister again, I pick a couple of the orange winter-blooms and tuck them into my harness.

I have delayed too long in coming to find her. It hurts to think she might believe I have abandoned her.

From here a narrow stone ledge runs horizontally below the upper level windows. A dizzying traverse leads to a point where a roof gable drops between two of the windows and I can just reach the gutter and swing onto the roof, moving cautiously for fear of dislodging any loose tiles.

I haven’t used a roof for stealth access before but I had plenty of practice in moving silently from tree to tree in the forest when stalking prey. My body knows how to balance and anticipate, leaving space to interpret the new signals I pick up from people living in rooms beneath my feet. I can only hope that if they do hear my footsteps they will assume they are just those of a large night bird or overfed squirrel.

The Rose Mansion is not the solid building it appears to be from the outside. It is built in a square, surrounding an enclosed courtyard with fountains and flowers. I stalk silently around the perimeter of the roof, searching for an opened upstairs window. The air is not as cold as it has been the last few nights so maybe I’ll get lucky.

I don’t. Everything is closed. Time to take an extra risk. I scramble down into the courtyard. My luck holds in that the place is as deserted as it should be at this time of night. I think about the level of distraction I might need to bring someone out to investigate, without creating too much of a ruckus that would raise the alarm. Almost as an afterthought, I try one of the doors.

It opens inwards. I almost fall into the inner corridor in surprise before it dawns on me that with the street door closed and guarded there is no need to keep the internal doors locked unless the captive girls have the enhanced climbing skills that I have. Even Alina can’t manage anything like that. A shiver of doubt runs through me as I try to work out how to get her out of here.

A row of pegs by the door has long warm cloaks hanging from them. I grab one and drape it round my shoulders. Not much of a disguise but better than nothing, seeing as I’m still well-splattered with blood and boiled oil. I stalk cautiously down the wide passageway, concentrating on avoiding the side tables adorned with elegant vases––

Footsteps approach and I duck down a side corridor. A flight of stairs appears on my right and I run up to the first floor. If the girls are asleep or, I remind myself, working, they are more likely to be upstairs.

I head down another long candlelit passage with doors either side, my footsteps thankfully muffled in the thick carpet. No expense spared to keep the wealthy men of the city in the luxury to which they are accustomed. Except that whoever is responsible for maintenance has overlooked the loose board lying underneath the carpet and it creaks, sounding horribly loud in the midnight silence. I freeze, my back flattened against the wall, listening in case if I have roused anyone.

A door just ahead of me opens and a girl steps out. She is wearing only a flimsy nightgown.

“Alina! What in hellfire are you doing out of your room? You’ll catch it if Madame sees you!”

This is the first time anyone has mistaken me for my sister in spite of our similar curling chestnut hair and violet eyes, but then the new slaves have only been here a few days and the candles are very small and widely spaced.

At last some luck I can use if I think fast. Before the girl can get a better look and correct her mistake, I put a hand to my eyes as if I’m feeling dizzy.

“I… started to feel really faint and woozy so I went out for a breath of air and couldn’t find my way back to my room.”

Her eyes widen in sympathy. “Oh you poor thing. I’ll take you.” A nervous glance over her shoulder before she leads me down the corridor and round the corner to the next side of the square building. She stops outside a door identical to her own. I lay my hand on the latch, praying fervently that Alina is alone in there and not… entertaining.

“Thank you,” I whisper to my guide. “Now get back quick before you’re caught.”

She doesn’t need further encouragement and scampers barefoot down the corridor. I notice how quickly she has learned where the loose boards are, judging by the way she hops sideways a couple of times. Thank the Five I followed her steps exactly on the way here.

I take a deep breath and open the door.