Taste of Darkness
Page 92
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Flea grinned. “True. Lead on before they stop.”
They returned to the window and finished pulling off the boards, exposing the stumps of the bars that had been left when they’d used Quain’s lightning juice to cut through them. Kerrick then concentrated on the ivy growing on the fence, encouraging it to weave into a ladder and elongate. It resisted, but he pushed through its reluctance. The effort sapped him and he needed a boost of energy from Flea. Once he recovered, Kerrick dropped the ivy ladder into the cell and then wiggled through the tight opening.
“Stay here,” he instructed Flea. “The prisoners can climb up the ladder. You need to help them out and direct them to Huxley.”
“Okay.”
Kerrick descended. At the bottom he stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the semidarkness. Even with the ivy hanging next to him, he felt the strong tug from the forest and combined with the energy he needed to maintain a normal appearance, he had to be careful not to drain all his strength.
Now accustomed to the dim light, he glanced around. No surprise this cell was empty. But men and women stared at him from its neighbors.
“Who—”
He put a finger to his lips. “I’m here to help you escape.” Kerrick kept his voice low. “It’s very important that you keep quiet and follow my instructions. All right?”
They nodded. Kerrick pulled out his lock picks and went to work. He unlocked the closest cell and showed them the ladder. While they took turns, he unlocked the other cells and searched for Belen. Three to five people shared each cell. No Belen. Grief and frustration mixed into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach.
He asked the others about Belen. “He’s a big guy, black hair, looks like a bear,” Kerrick whispered.
Most didn’t answer, but one woman said, “He’s down below. He fought the guards and gave them such a hard time, they locked him in the pit. Poor guy hasn’t had any food or water in days.”
After all the cells had been opened, Kerrick found the hatch to the pit. It’d been bolted to the floor and secured with a thick lock that shone—brand-new. He cursed under his breath. Inserting his tension wrench and diamond pick, Kerrick wished for Quain’s lightning juice. This wouldn’t be easy. He worked on the lock until his fingers cramped. His energy dipped.
“They’re all out,” Flea said. “Fifteen total.”
Kerrick strode to the window. “Lead them to Mom’s.”
“But—”
“Go.”
But instead of obeying him, Flea climbed through the window and dropped down beside him. “How can I help?”
“You can’t.” Biting down on his anger, Kerrick turned and resumed his efforts to pop the complex lock. Sweat soaked his shirt and stung his eyes. His fingers slipped on the pick and he clamped down on a growl of frustration.
Flea tapped him on the shoulder. “Company.”
The clang of a door echoed. Flea gripped the hilt of his sword, but Kerrick stopped him.
“A dagger’s better for an ambush.” Kerrick stood and drew his blade. He motioned for Flea to stand to the right of the main door, while he stepped to the left. He’d been wrong. Flea could help.
They waited. The jailhouse had two sets of heavy double doors from the processing area to the cells. Metal screeched as the second set was unlocked. A beam of lantern light sliced the darkness, then grew wider as the doors swung open.
Kerrick didn’t hesitate. “Now!” he shouted then grabbed the closest guard and spun him, ramming his head into the wall. The man crumpled in a heap.
He turned. Flea struggled with two men. Kerrick pulled one off the boy and slit the guard’s throat. Two more guards rushed into the fray, armed with swords and prepared for a fight. Kerrick discovered that bone armor was quite effective against his dagger. And their sharp rapiers snaked in past his defenses, finding flesh.
Kerrick drew his dadao sword. Even though he didn’t have much room to swing, he hoped the thick curved blade would intimidate them. Aside from a brief pause, it failed to impress them.
They pressed their advantage and Kerrick retreated. Soon his back hit bars. He was trapped and near the end of his energy. Flea made a strangled cry. Kerrick dropped his normal camouflage and increased his attacks, hoping to slip past them. Besides a grunt of surprise, the two men kept lunging with their thinner weapons. Fighting in tight quarters against two, Kerrick knew it was just a matter of time.
Another cry sounded and then the guard on the right jerked and toppled. His partner turned and Flea touched the man’s face. He froze and fell back.
Flea clutched his stomach, looking queasy.
Kerrick sheathed his sword and put a hand on Flea’s shoulder. “Keep it together, Flea. There might be more.”
Flea drew in a deep breath and straightened.
“Good. Watch for reinforcements.” He checked the guards’ pockets, searching for keys, and found a ring of them. Sorting through them, he isolated a large silver one that shone as if new. Kerrick returned to the pit’s lock and opened it.
Excited, he threw the bolt and opened the hatch. Two giant hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, yanking him into the blackness.
CHAPTER 17
Danny returned with Odd on his heels. I intercepted Odd at the door.
“What’s wrong?” Odd asked.
I explained.
His face paled. “Are you sure?”
I showed him Gylon’s tattoo. The sergeant cursed after learning of his new decoration, but hadn’t put all the pieces together yet. The Skeleton King’s troops had ambushed Gylon’s squad and infected them with the new plague.
They returned to the window and finished pulling off the boards, exposing the stumps of the bars that had been left when they’d used Quain’s lightning juice to cut through them. Kerrick then concentrated on the ivy growing on the fence, encouraging it to weave into a ladder and elongate. It resisted, but he pushed through its reluctance. The effort sapped him and he needed a boost of energy from Flea. Once he recovered, Kerrick dropped the ivy ladder into the cell and then wiggled through the tight opening.
“Stay here,” he instructed Flea. “The prisoners can climb up the ladder. You need to help them out and direct them to Huxley.”
“Okay.”
Kerrick descended. At the bottom he stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the semidarkness. Even with the ivy hanging next to him, he felt the strong tug from the forest and combined with the energy he needed to maintain a normal appearance, he had to be careful not to drain all his strength.
Now accustomed to the dim light, he glanced around. No surprise this cell was empty. But men and women stared at him from its neighbors.
“Who—”
He put a finger to his lips. “I’m here to help you escape.” Kerrick kept his voice low. “It’s very important that you keep quiet and follow my instructions. All right?”
They nodded. Kerrick pulled out his lock picks and went to work. He unlocked the closest cell and showed them the ladder. While they took turns, he unlocked the other cells and searched for Belen. Three to five people shared each cell. No Belen. Grief and frustration mixed into a tight ball in the pit of his stomach.
He asked the others about Belen. “He’s a big guy, black hair, looks like a bear,” Kerrick whispered.
Most didn’t answer, but one woman said, “He’s down below. He fought the guards and gave them such a hard time, they locked him in the pit. Poor guy hasn’t had any food or water in days.”
After all the cells had been opened, Kerrick found the hatch to the pit. It’d been bolted to the floor and secured with a thick lock that shone—brand-new. He cursed under his breath. Inserting his tension wrench and diamond pick, Kerrick wished for Quain’s lightning juice. This wouldn’t be easy. He worked on the lock until his fingers cramped. His energy dipped.
“They’re all out,” Flea said. “Fifteen total.”
Kerrick strode to the window. “Lead them to Mom’s.”
“But—”
“Go.”
But instead of obeying him, Flea climbed through the window and dropped down beside him. “How can I help?”
“You can’t.” Biting down on his anger, Kerrick turned and resumed his efforts to pop the complex lock. Sweat soaked his shirt and stung his eyes. His fingers slipped on the pick and he clamped down on a growl of frustration.
Flea tapped him on the shoulder. “Company.”
The clang of a door echoed. Flea gripped the hilt of his sword, but Kerrick stopped him.
“A dagger’s better for an ambush.” Kerrick stood and drew his blade. He motioned for Flea to stand to the right of the main door, while he stepped to the left. He’d been wrong. Flea could help.
They waited. The jailhouse had two sets of heavy double doors from the processing area to the cells. Metal screeched as the second set was unlocked. A beam of lantern light sliced the darkness, then grew wider as the doors swung open.
Kerrick didn’t hesitate. “Now!” he shouted then grabbed the closest guard and spun him, ramming his head into the wall. The man crumpled in a heap.
He turned. Flea struggled with two men. Kerrick pulled one off the boy and slit the guard’s throat. Two more guards rushed into the fray, armed with swords and prepared for a fight. Kerrick discovered that bone armor was quite effective against his dagger. And their sharp rapiers snaked in past his defenses, finding flesh.
Kerrick drew his dadao sword. Even though he didn’t have much room to swing, he hoped the thick curved blade would intimidate them. Aside from a brief pause, it failed to impress them.
They pressed their advantage and Kerrick retreated. Soon his back hit bars. He was trapped and near the end of his energy. Flea made a strangled cry. Kerrick dropped his normal camouflage and increased his attacks, hoping to slip past them. Besides a grunt of surprise, the two men kept lunging with their thinner weapons. Fighting in tight quarters against two, Kerrick knew it was just a matter of time.
Another cry sounded and then the guard on the right jerked and toppled. His partner turned and Flea touched the man’s face. He froze and fell back.
Flea clutched his stomach, looking queasy.
Kerrick sheathed his sword and put a hand on Flea’s shoulder. “Keep it together, Flea. There might be more.”
Flea drew in a deep breath and straightened.
“Good. Watch for reinforcements.” He checked the guards’ pockets, searching for keys, and found a ring of them. Sorting through them, he isolated a large silver one that shone as if new. Kerrick returned to the pit’s lock and opened it.
Excited, he threw the bolt and opened the hatch. Two giant hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, yanking him into the blackness.
CHAPTER 17
Danny returned with Odd on his heels. I intercepted Odd at the door.
“What’s wrong?” Odd asked.
I explained.
His face paled. “Are you sure?”
I showed him Gylon’s tattoo. The sergeant cursed after learning of his new decoration, but hadn’t put all the pieces together yet. The Skeleton King’s troops had ambushed Gylon’s squad and infected them with the new plague.
