Lindsay Buroker - Forged in Blood I

“Hst,” Akstyr said, the sound somewhere between a grunt and a warning.

Sicarius halted. They’d dropped down to the subterranean level, and the intervening tons of rock were muting the alarm clangs. “Problem?”

“I’m not sure. I thought I felt… I don’t know. Something like power being unleashed. It’s gone now.”

“Understood.”

Sicarius hastened forward, winding through the wider ducks of this level, and heading toward the furnace room from whence they originated. A string of pain-filled curses came from somewhere ahead. Books?

Sicarius turned the last corner. Hot air blown from the furnace pushed against him. Light flowed through an access panel in the ductwork, one they’d removed earlier. Earlier , the furnace room hadn’t been illuminated. Now, orange and yellow firelight flickered beyond the open panel.

Though Books clearly sounded distressed, Sicarius didn’t rush his approach. He wanted to assess the situation before bursting into it. He listened as he continued forward at his same steady pace. Metal clacked twice-a dagger hitting a wall, then dropping to the floor. Boots stomped about, more than one set.

Sicarius drew his own dagger, using his ears to pinpoint the likely location of the nearest attacker.

“Look out!” Sespian barked as Sicarius flowed out of the duct.

The warning almost made him pause, for he thought it was meant for him, but he went with his instincts, hurling his dagger before visually taking in the scene. He trusted his senses.

His black blade whistled through the air and smashed into the chest of a black-haired woman. Instead of piercing flesh and organs, it ricocheted off with a twang and landed on the floor.

“She’s a wizard!” Books blurted from where he hid behind the furnace, flapping his jacket to put out flames crawling up his sleeve.

Sicarius was too busy racing across the room to respond to the obvious comment. He took in the winking light of a square box hanging from the woman’s belt. It must indicate an armor tool similar to the ones he’d encountered earlier in the year, amongst the practitioners in the underwater laboratory. This woman appeared Turgonian, though. Odd.

The thoughts in his head did not slow the pace of his legs. The woman saw him coming and spread an arm toward him, fingers stretched outward. A hint of concern widened her eyes, but he wouldn’t bet on it being enough to disrupt her conjuring. Anticipating an attack-similarly to a warrior about to strike a blow, wizards tended to tightened their diaphragms, exhaling as they released their mental energy-Sicarius threw himself into a roll.

Yellow flames burst from the woman’s fingers, the intense light blasting the shadows from the room. Heat seared the air above Sicarius’s back, but the fire didn’t touch him as he somersaulted along the floor. He came up by the woman’s side, his elbow glancing off the invisible shield encompassing her. It sent a cold numbing tingle up his arm, but he ignored it, instead lashing toward her eyes with his dagger. The shield would protect her, he knew it, but her instincts might instruct her to retreat.

It worked. She backpedaled three steps, crossing the threshold and stumbling into the whitewashed stone corridor outside. In the ideal situation, she would have bumped the artifact off her belt-he couldn’t physically harm her so long as her shield remained in place-but she didn’t lose that much composure. Indeed, she recovered quickly, righting herself against the wall and glowering at Sicarius.

He shut the door in her face. It didn’t have a lock. He grabbed a half-empty coal bin and dragged it over, the squeal of metal scraping across stone deafening.

“That’s not going to stop a practitioner.” Akstyr stabbed a finger at the blocked door.

Sicarius gave him a flat look as he picked up his black dagger. Akstyr wasn’t doing anything better, and Books and Sespian had taken refuge from the flame-flinging woman by hiding behind the furnace door.

“A delay will be sufficient.” He jerked his head toward the open duct panel. “We’ll find another way out.”

A thunderous boom came from the hallway, and the door rattled on its hinges.

“Good idea,” Akstyr blurted and raced for the duct.

Sicarius, his dagger in hand, cut off a large clump of Akstyr’s hair as he passed. His blade-work was swift enough that the boy didn’t notice, though Sespian gawked in disbelief.

“Follow him,” Sicarius told Books and Sespian. He’d explain later if they insisted.

Books gave his jacket a final flap, stirring smoke but not more flames, and hustled after Akstyr. The fistful of hair in hand, Sicarius strode toward the furnace.

“You should go next,” Sespian told him. “They don’t know where they’re going.”

“I’ll follow and direct from behind.” Sicarius grabbed a shovel, flung open the furnace door, and used the tool to close the flue. “Go with them.”

Shouts filled the hallway outside, male and female voices raised in an argument. Sicarius sensed the Science being used again and glanced back. The door hinges glowed cherry red; they’d expand and snap soon.

Sicarius tossed the clump of hair onto the flames.

“What are you doing?” Sespian asked.

“Creating a malodorant.”

With the flue closed, smoke flowed out of the firebox and into the room. Sicarius pushed Sespian toward the duct as the stench of burning hair oozed out with the smoke. Sespian coughed and sprinted the last few paces for the opening. Finding the sulfuric scent equally unpleasant, Sicarius dove in behind him.

Sespian smothered a cough. “Well, that would keep me out of the room anyway.”

“The scent is not dissimilar to burning coal gas,” Sicarius said, watching over his shoulder as they crawled through the passage, making sure nobody was following them. “The gas table for the lighting for the Barracks is two rooms down. If we are fortuitous, they may believe there’s a rupture somewhere.”

“Ah, a rupture that would take priority over intruders, due to the flammable nature of the gas.”

Sicarius tried to decide if Sespian’s words carried a hint of approval. It had been years since someone’s approval meant anything to him-Raumesys and Hollowcrest’s had stopped mattering long before the emperor’s death-and he suspected it a sign of vulnerability on his part. Still, he acknowledged that he wanted Sespian’s approval nonetheless. Odd. Weren’t sons supposed to seek the approval of their fathers, and not the other way around?

Footfalls hammered the floor somewhere above the duct. Sicarius let his fingers brush Sespian’s boots, encouraging greater speed. Possible gas leak or not, with so many people searching the building, it would be best to escape quickly, especially given that they’d have to get past another ward due to their change in route. This one wouldn’t be deactivated. If Akstyr couldn’t equal the wizard hunter’s skill, and accomplish the same feat with the ward, they’d be in for a long night.

“I think I’m stuck,” came Akstyr’s voice from ahead, barely distinguishable from the still-clanging alarm bell.

“I told you not to go that way,” Books said.

“No, you told me to wait. I thought it’d be smart to wait out of the way.”

“Not if it involved getting your elephantine head stuck.”

“It’s not my head that’s stuck. It’s-ow.”

“Continue forward,” Sicarius said, “choosing the passage that angles to the right at approximately thirty degrees from the intersection.”

“Thirty what?” Akstyr asked.

“Degrees, you dolt,” Books said. “A degree is a unit of measurement for angles on a plane, each representing one three-sixtieth of a full rotation.”