Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8) Read online

  Ridge doubted the magically barricaded door would be easier to open from the other side. Angulus cursed and drew his arm back.

  He stuck his head into the hole. “Captain Targeer, Yorx, where are you?”

  “Magically convinced to be elsewhere, I imagine.” Ridge hefted the axe. “I think we can clear a little more and get out. If we suck in everything we’ve got to get past the studs.”

  Angulus growled, drew his head back, his curly hair coated with plaster dust, and waved for Ridge to get to it.

  “We’ll get out,” Ridge repeated, hoping to reassure him. “And find the shaman who’s sneaking around in your castle.”

  He still didn’t think it was the best idea for the king to go roaming when intruders were around, but if his liege wanted to escape and pummel the enemy, it was Ridge’s job to help him.

  Together, they tore away the last of the wood and plaster. Ridge squeezed out between the studs, flopping into the hallway without any grace. Angulus, broader of chest and shoulder, had no room to spare, and snarled as he got stuck. Ridge gripped his shoulders to help pull him out. Angulus grunted and looked like he left most of his chest hair on the wood supports, but he finally tumbled out.

  “Maybe,” he said, wincing, “I should get a medal after all.”

  “A medal and cake.”

  Ridge helped him to his feet, and they took off down the hall.

  Tolemek paused in the smoke-filled kitchen because Cas did. She gaped at the fire, then joined in with the cooks and servants hurling pots of water on the fire. Therrik, however, had continued on, bypassing the fire and heading for a door at the back of the kitchen, one that looked to lead down to a basement. Tolemek didn’t know this part of the castle well. But he did know why this fire had been started.

  “Cas, it’s a diversion,” Tolemek called into the chaos.

  She paused, and their eyes met through the smoke.

  “I’m following Therrik.” He didn’t want to order her to come with him, but he pointed in the direction the big colonel had gone and hoped she would.

  Coughing, Tolemek ran down the stairs that Therrik had taken. He tugged out one of his vials of knock-out liquid as he went, one that would turn to gas when he broke it open and the substance contacted air.

  He entered a narrow storage corridor that looked like it led to wine and root cellars. It was dim, with only a few old gas lamps burning on the walls, their plumbing visible along the mortared stone, an addition that had come long after the original basement had been built.

  Tolemek ran to catch up with Therrik, keeping his thumb on the stopper of his vial. Usually, he built grenades to house the knock-out liquid, grenades that couldn’t be activated simply by dropping them, but his lab was still a shambles, and all of his already-made devices had been destroyed or stolen. He had been lucky to find the ingredients to put together a few vials.

  “Is he going to steal dragon blood or wine?” Therrik growled after poking his head into a cellar full of valuable vintages, the dusty bottles lining the walls in special shelves.

  The stone hall continued on, numerous side passages opening up, and Tolemek wouldn’t have been surprised if more than potatoes and wine existed down there. He’d heard that a great deal of the expansive basements had been damaged during the sorceress’s attack, but this section appeared to be the original castle construction.

  “Sword’s getting brighter,” Therrik whispered, still leading. “And pulling me this way…”

  “I can’t tell if any of the dragon blood is still here,” Tolemek whispered. “I don’t sense it, but it was probably shielded by iron, regardless.”

  He remembered the black steam wagon Cas had looked at earlier, the way she’d squinted suspiciously at it. Tolemek suspected it had been loaded up with the valuable vials of blood. Would Yendray grow frustrated and lash out if he located the king’s vault only to find it open and empty?

  “Don’t remind me you’re one of them,” Therrik growled, not looking back.

  He turned a corner and sniffed. Tolemek also crinkled his nose. A sweet-smelling smoke lingered in the air, and he slowed his steps, worried the shaman might have deployed a knock-out gas of his own. It didn’t smell like the compound Tolemek created, but there were other ingredients that could produce the same effect. Further, a shaman more talented than Tolemek might be able to make a protective barrier the way Sardelle could, so he wouldn’t be affected by the tainted air.

  Tolemek paused, on the verge of sharing a warning with Therrik. The smoke was thicker up ahead.

  “I see something,” Therrik whispered before Tolemek could speak.

  Therrik rushed forward, and Kasandral’s glow flared from dull to bright, washing the stone walls in green. He jumped around a corner, the smoke half-obscuring his movements, but the sword swept forward, trackable by its glow.

  “That smoke—” Tolemek started his warning, but a boom ripped through the air.

  The stone floor quaked, hurling him into the wall. A cloud of smoke flowed toward him, its acrid scent plaguing his nostrils as he righted himself. Crumbling mortar trickled from the walls, and several stones fell from their homes, clattering to the floor.

  Ahead of him, Therrik roared. Something—his sword?—clanged against stone. Or was that metal against metal?

  Tolemek lifted his vial but waited, using his senses, trying to detect what was ahead of him and if anyone was coming.

  Another clang bounced down the stone hall, and the hazy air stirred. A figure ran into view, shrouded by smoke.

  Tolemek judged from the sword-fighting noises that Therrik was far enough ahead that he wouldn’t be in danger of friendly fire—friendly knockout formulas. Tolemek held his breath and threw his vial at the floor in front of the figure, then skittered backward to get out of its range.

  He almost tripped over his own feet and realized that he was more sluggish than he should have been. His legs felt like lead.

  Ceramic shattered, some vial or container hitting the floor in front of him. The smoke-shrouded figure had retreated, and Tolemek couldn’t see him anymore, but he sensed someone in the hallway ahead of him. Green smoke flowed up from the floor, mingling with the rest.

  Still holding his breath, Tolemek forced his rubbery legs to propel him backward.

  Someone brushed his arm from behind, and he almost exhaled in surprise. Cas pushed him to the side and fired her pistol into the smoke as the sounds of a sword fight continued to come from around the corner.

  Someone cursed in a foreign language, and the figure appeared right in front of Tolemek. A man in buckskins. The Dakrovian threw something as Cas fired again, this time, taking him square in the chest. Their enemy pitched backward, but his vial struck the ground, shards of ceramic flying as more green smoke flew into the air.

  Cas hunched forward, coughs wracking her body.

  Tolemek wanted to grab her, hoist her over his shoulder, and retreat, but with his limbs still rubbery from the first concoction, he feared they would both pitch to the floor if he tried.

  Besides, Cas didn’t seem interested in retreating. She heard the clanging of swords and ran forward, even as she gripped her stomach and spat, as if she could eject the foul smoke that way. Tolemek glimpsed tears streaming from her eyes as she ran around the corner, but she led the way with her pistol, not letting the discomfort stop her.

  Tolemek forced his legs to work, to drive him after her. He would have left Therrik to fend for himself, but he had to back up Cas. She had only come down here because of him.

  As he rounded the corner after her, Tolemek almost tripped over a body, a long-haired man wearing beads and buckskins… with a huge sword gash across his throat. Lifeless brown eyes stared at the stone ceiling. It wasn’t Yendray. The other man hadn’t been, either.

  Cas coughed up ahead. In front of her, Therrik leaped through a huge, warped hole in an iron door—an iron vault door. He disappeared inside, but a moment later, another explosion went off. He flew backward, cracking
his head on the edge of the hole on his way to slamming into the wall opposite the vault. He crumpled to the floor but did not release Kasandral.

  Fighting coughs, Cas leaped to the opening in the vault door.

  “Wait,” Tolemek ordered, his voice raspy. He’d finally had to take a breath and inhale the tainted air. It was a sulfur mustard gas, and his nostrils and eyes and throat all burned.

  Cas paused before running inside. Tolemek charged up beside her, stumbling on his malfunctioning legs, and threw a knockout vial into the vault.

  “Back,” he rasped, reaching out to grab her arm.

  She fired into the vault before letting him tug her away. Therrik jumped to his feet, shaking himself like a dog, as if he hadn’t been hurt at all, at least not enough to notice.

  A gun fired, but it wasn’t Cas’s this time.

  Therrik whipped Kasandral across his chest, the magic of the sword making his movement faster than humanly possible. A clang sounded as he deflected a bullet. He charged into the vault again.

  “Don’t, you idiot!” Tolemek yelled, backing away from the vault himself.

  Damn it, hadn’t Therrik seen him throw the vial? Maybe he was holding his breath…

  Fighting coughs, Cas dashed snot away from her nose with one hand while keeping her other trained on the vault. More clangs and bangs came from inside.

  Someone rushed out. Not Therrik.

  “Yendray,” Tolemek blurted. He could barely see the man with all the smoke, but he was wearing that stupid bowler hat.

  Cas fired. Her bullet bounced straight back, almost striking her in the shoulder.

  “Shit,” she cursed and ducked as it ricocheted off stone.

  Tolemek flattened himself against the wall and grabbed her, pulling her back too. He sensed the protective barrier around Yendray even though he couldn’t see it with his eyes. The shaman sprinted away from the vault, away from Therrik and that sword.

  “Out here, Therrik,” Tolemek yelled and jumped in front of Yendray’s path.

  The shaman didn’t seem to be carrying a weapon. Maybe if Tolemek could at least get in the way, he could delay him until Therrik ran out with Kasandral. The sword could pop that magical barrier with one swipe.

  Yendray stopped and yanked a small pistol out of a holster under his tunic. “Apologies, Deathmaker,” he said, not sounding breathless at all from dealing with Therrik. “But I can’t have you following me.”

  Tolemek cursed, sensing the shaman lowering his barrier, but only long enough to fire. He flung himself to the floor as Cas tried to knock the man’s arm away. She was partially successful, but the bullet still struck Tolemek in the shoulder. He hollered as fiery pain exploded in his body.

  Cas yelled in fury and aimed her pistol after the shaman, but Tolemek sensed Yendray had already raised his barrier again.

  “Don’t,” he gasped, not wanting to be hit twice. “He’s protected.”

  Cas swore and ran after Yendray, but she smacked into an invisible barrier that now stretched across the corridor. She stumbled back, almost dropping her pistol.

  Tolemek gritted his teeth and gripped his wound. Hot blood warmed the palm of his hand, and another wave of pain went through him at the touch.

  “Therrik,” he called, his voice still hoarse. “The shaman left.”

  “Which one?” Therrik snarled, his voice sounding hollow from within the vault.

  “The one in charge. The one I think is in charge.” Speaking hurt, so Tolemek slumped against the wall and gave it up.

  Cas rushed back toward the vault and peered inside. “Damn, sir.”

  Therrik stepped out of the hole, smoke wreathing him.

  “He went that way.” Cas pointed down the corridor. “There’s a magic barrier that I ran into, but Kasandral—”

  “On it.”

  With the point of the sword leading, Therrik ran past Tolemek without a glance.

  Cas tore her gaze from the vault and ran to Tolemek. She slipped a supportive arm around his waist.

  “What’s in there?” he rasped. “He didn’t get the blood, did he? I didn’t see him carrying anything.”

  “I don’t think so. There are three dead men and women—Therrik’s work—and then a bunch of remains of boxes and shelves that were blown up. Some gems and gold ingots on the floor among the bodies.”

  “Not the prize Yendray sought.”

  “Apparently not. We better get you up to find a doctor. Or Sardelle.”

  “I don’t think she’s here.” Tolemek pushed away from the wall, letting Cas guide him in the direction Yendray and Therrik had disappeared.

  “Too bad. I think that sword surprised the Dakrovians—that’s what we believe they are, right?—but the leader had some tricks ready to play.”

  “I saw. And felt.” Tolemek gritted his teeth. “There must have been more than one shaman, or Therrik wouldn’t have been thwarted, even momentarily.”

  He didn’t like the big colonel, but he had no problem acknowledging that he was a superbly well-trained fighter. He hoped Yendray ran into trouble and that it gave Therrik—and Kasandral—the time to catch up with him. If not, the Dakrovians might keep trying to find and obtain that dragon blood.

  “Maybe.” Cas looked at his face, worry in her eyes.

  Tolemek attempted to smooth his own face. “I’ll be fine. It’s just my shoulder.”

  “You don’t need that shoulder for mixing goos?”

  “I’ve done it one-handedly before. Cas?”

  “Yes?” Cas peered around the corner before leading him around it and back toward the stairs.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you… the other night, before all this happened, I didn’t mean to imply that I wanted to end our relationship. If you don’t want to have children, I understand that. Maybe we could just get a dog.”

  “Don’t you already have over fifty snakes, lizards, and other reptiles?”

  “Those aren’t pets. And don’t live in the house.”

  “Thankfully,” she murmured.

  As they headed up the stairs, some of the horrible smoke lingering in the air, his shoulder bumped the wall, and he winced and sucked in a pained breath.

  “Is this the best time for this discussion?” Cas asked.

  “I thought we should have it before I die.”

  “Do you have bullets elsewhere that I should know about?”

  “No, but the night is young.” Tolemek managed a smile, though he was sure it was wan and half wince.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that you don’t want to break up. I don’t either. I’m just—look, I’m only twenty-four. It’s possible I may feel differently someday, but children are the furthest thing from my mind now. And I don’t want you to assume that I will feel differently.” She raised her voice to be heard over the shouts and clangs still coming from the kitchen—there was even more smoke on this floor, albeit normal smoke, not anything designed to deter enemies. “I don’t dislike children, but I love my job. I don’t want to stay home and raise babies.”

  “Understandable, but just something for you to keep in mind… I could potentially set up a laboratory on our own land, especially if we buy that house in your father’s neighborhood that we talked about. There would be plenty of room. And if I did that, I could possibly care for children.”

  “You barely remember to eat when you’re working.”

  “If I get around to hiring an assistant, he or she could remind me to eat. And feed children. This would be years away, of course. I’m sure I could get it figured out by the time you were ready. If you ever decide you’re ready. That’s all.”

  “Hm.”

  Did that hm sound thoughtful rather than dismissive? He wouldn’t push further. He just wanted her to know it was an option for the future if she one day changed her mind. If not, he would understand.

  Shots rang out in the courtyard. The music that had been playing in the background halted.

  “I think we know which way Yendray went,” Toleme
k muttered.

  “Yes.” Cas tried to walk faster but glanced at him and made herself slow down again.

  “You don’t have to wait for me. Go help. I’ll find a nurse myself. Or at least someone with bandages.” Though he would rather have painkillers at the moment. He wished he’d thought to bring along tubs of his healing salve.

  Cas hesitated.

  Tolemek extricated himself from her grip. “Go,” he said again. “Catch up, and when Therrik knocks his shields down with that sword, you can shoot him.”

  “Therrik or the shaman?”

  Tolemek snorted and handed her a vial of the knockout liquid. “Both.”

  Cas kissed him, then ran off down the corridor, disappearing into the kitchen. Tolemek knew she would be out in the courtyard in an instant and hoped she could help. He slumped against the wall and closed his eyes, wishing he had more to offer her.

  17

  As Cas burst out the servants’ door in the side of the castle, an explosion ripped through the courtyard. People screamed and dove for cover under tables and hedges. The jugglers had already leaped off the stage, and she spotted a lute player racing toward the back of the castle.

  She let the smoke guide her toward the source of the explosion—it had come from the front of the castle, the drive that led in through the gate.

  With her pistol in one hand and Tolemek’s knockout potion in the other, Cas raced toward the smoke. A groan followed by clanks sounded. The gate being opened? She couldn’t see it through the smoke. A huge black pall had descended on—or arisen from—that entrance area.

  Shots fired from that direction, and she winced, hearing bullets ricocheting off the stone wall. Were the guards firing blindly into the smoke? Or were they hitting the shaman’s barrier as he ran out?

  The guards must have seen her approaching because they stopped firing. Cas raced into the thick of the smoke, veering toward the gate, but she almost tripped over a man lying on the cobblestone drive. She accidentally kicked something, and metal scraped as an indignant flare of green light came from the ground. Kasandral.