42. Aiden

Chapter 42

Aiden

Night had fallen. And with it, a silence so complete, I looked forward to destroying it.

I crouched in the shadows of Skelly’s dark ship and kept my eyes fastened on the cliff road gate.

Waiting, waiting, waiting . . .

A faint explosion echoed down to me, and I tensed. A moment later, the gate slammed shut.

Yes! I breathed a sigh of relief. The piles of gold I’d paid the guards had worked. I’d hated giving more to them than the seventy warriors waiting beneath my feet. But revenge burned stronger than greed.

I ducked my head in the hatch. “It’s time.”

The bone-rattlers who had decided to join our fight climbed out first. They’d strapped wide swords next to their strings of bones, which they’d tied up to keep silent. They wore scarves over their long hair and smudged soot around their eyes.

Skelly gave me a nod from the ship’s helm. He’d keep a lookout for us and make sure our escape vessel was ready for departure.

The Dags emerged next, led by Nikella, stripped of her cloak and staff. Her black hair was braided like the Dags, and she’d foregone face paint except for a strip of black around her eyes. She carried her double-headed spear in one scarred fist and some of our bombs in a pack slung across her back.

The rest of our bombs were scattered among the Dag warriors.

They wore full armor, with dented metal strapped to their chests, shins, and arms. Their long, braided hair was threaded with metal and leather, and their entire faces were painted in blue, black, and red. They carried axes, swords, and a few bows with arrows. One of Maz’s sisters carried a pair of scythes.

All were from Maz’s Yargoth clan. All looked grim and determined. Especially his three sisters, who wore murderous expressions under their war paint.

They wanted revenge for their brother.

I slipped my father’s ring from my pocket onto my finger. Nikella had brought it with her earlier. I wanted a part of him with me tonight.

I ran down the gangplank dressed in all black with no cloak, my twin swords strapped to my back and my two daggers sheathed in my belt. I also carried two pouches with Librius’s explosives. I’d refused any face paint. I wanted Weylin to know exactly who was here to kill him.

Everyone followed me quickly and quietly to the Den.

The bone-rattlers scurried forward and threw their grapple hooks over the large black doors. They climbed over. A shout went up.

Unease rippled through the waiting warriors. I unsheathed my swords. Gods, it felt good to hold them again.

A moment later, the gate was unbarred and shoved open.

We swept inside, weapons raised. A handful of Shadow-Wolves sprinted toward us with sunstone spears and knives. My heart pounded at the first clash, the first shriek of metal disintegrating.

But I’d prepared my warriors.

As I tangled with one of the Wolves, two of the archers climbed up the guard station and shot down at the Wolves. Three of them fell instantly, and the one I fought swung wildly, leaving himself open for my sword through his heart. He fell with a choking gasp.

The yard fell silent. Only the perpetual crash of the waterfall disturbed the quiet.

The skirmish had only taken moments. Five dead Wolves. No casualties on our side. I ripped the mask off the one I’d killed. A boy, hardly a few years older than Ruru.

My stomach clenched, and I glanced at Nikella, her face grim and her spear wet with blood.

“Bar the gate and set a watch!” I called out, my voice sounding too loud.

A few of the Dags with bombs scrambled to obey me, knowing their part was to wait for any Wolves fleeing back to their Den. They had to keep the way clear once I was done.

“That was too easy,” Nikella murmured. “It’s a tr?—”

“Don’t,” I hissed. Then louder, “Fan out. Search every cave in groups. Make sure there are no surprises. Take the sunstone weapons if you want.”

We moved forward steadily, carefully, and plunged into the caves. When I had infiltrated here before getting caught and thrown in a cell, I’d been careful to map out as many of the tunnels as I could in my mind. That way I could sketch them out for everyone later.

I’d never told Kiera that was why I was really here. That... and the secret passage.

Small groups broke off to investigate each branch of the tunnel. No shouts, no alarms.

Surely this wasn’t all.

Nikella took the prison tunnel toward the sea cave exit with Maz’s sisters and a few sailors. I hurried toward Renwell’s office door and tried it.

Locked.

I had something for that—but after I checked the last tunnel. It ended in a murky cave, lit by a single torch. The air was thick with the coppery smell of blood and oiled metal. Two tables with ropes took up most of the room. Dozens of weapons and shelves decorated the rough walls.

Korvin’s chamber. This must be where he tortured Maz.

Bile rose in my throat, and I gripped my swords harder. If that evil maniac was here...

I swept through the room quickly, finding no one. But two doors opened off the main room. The first room was empty. The second?—

“Garyth.” I choked on my shock and the putrid smell of rotting flesh and human waste.

A feeble moan answered me from the body tied to a wide table. I almost didn’t recognize him from the few times I’d spied on him at Melaena’s club from the secret balcony.

One of his legs was missing below the knee, tied with a tourniquet so tight only a few drops of blood trickled into the shallow puddle on the floor. His fingernails had been ripped off, and both his arms were bent at terrible angles. A pile of engorged black leeches wriggled over the many shallow cuts on his chest and stomach.

“Fucking Four,” I breathed. The man had been here for days , suffering like this.

I snatched the little bloodsuckers off his skin while he groaned, his eyes finally opening.

“You came,” he murmured.

I frowned. “Do you know who I am?”

“He said you would come.”

Was he delirious? “Who said that—Renwell? Korvin?”

Garyth’s bloodshot eyes finally focused on me. Confusion filled them. “Are you a dream? A lost soul come to haunt me?”

“No.” I cut the ropes binding him, but he didn’t move. “I’m Aiden, and?—”

“Aiden?” Garyth’s eyes shone with tears. “At last. Where is my family? Are they here? Does he have them?”

I shook my head vehemently. “No. He never did. They’re safe. Waiting for you.”

Tears trickled from his eyes to the bloody floor. “My sweet girls. I pray they don’t join me for a long, long time.” He refocused on me. “Thank you. I can die at peace now.”

“We can get you out of here,” I said, even as I gazed at his many injuries, my heart falling. “We have a ship and medicine?—”

He slowly shook his head. “No, Aiden. I’ve only held on this long for my family. And now that they’re safe...”

A shout resonated from somewhere in the caves. Gods damn it.

“Forgive my cowardice,” Garyth whispered. “I told him everything I knew. I thought they had my family.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I said sharply, edging toward the door and peering out of it.

Garyth continued to mumble. “. . . blinded by Weylin’s promises . . . didn’t know he murdered . . . too late . . .”

Another shout and the clash of weapons echoed toward me.

“Kill me, Aiden.”

I froze. His voice had become clear as glass. Clear as the nightmare that had haunted me for years.

Wide blue eyes pled with me. No, they were Garyth’s gray ones.

“Please.”

Please, Aiden.

“I can’t,” I whispered raggedly, my swords slipping in my sweaty grip. “Don’t ask this of me.”

Garyth groaned. “It would be a mercy.”

Mercy, please.

“Shut up,” I snarled. Black spots danced over my vision.

Boots pounded up to the room, and Nikella flew inside, her cheek and her spear bloodied.

“Ambush!” she gasped. “I thought you were—” Her eyes fell to Garyth, and understanding flashed through her eyes.

She approached him steadily. “Do you wish for the gods to find your soul now?”

“Yes,” Garyth breathed.

“Then we will release it together,” Nikella said and plunged a short knife into his chest.

My own numb heart winced. Garyth breathed his last.

Nikella wiped her knife and stowed it. Then she placed her hand on my shoulder until I met her gaze. “Keep fighting, Aiden. Fight for the souls still left.”

I nodded, again and again, until my head cleared. I squeezed some of the spattersap from the pouch at my waist onto Garyth’s body and laid the torch against it. Flames poured over his twisted flesh.

“May the gods find your soul,” I murmured.

Then Nikella and I raced back to the battle.

“A few dozen Wolves were hiding in a deep cave,” Nikella panted. “But they weren’t expecting our numbers.”

Chaos reigned in the main tunnel. Wolves clad in their usual black fought with my warriors. These Wolves were bigger, stronger, and faster than the ones in the yard. These were the true killers.

One of them grabbed Maz’s sister, Yarina, by her hair. Nikella threw her spear straight through his torso. She leapt forward, whipping her spear from his body while Yarina lopped off his head with her scythe.

A Wolf cut down a sailor and spun for another. I plunged into the melee and sank both my swords into his stomach. He smashed his metal mask against my face, eliciting stars. But I roared, yanking out my swords and crossing them over his neck. One jerk, and his head rolled to the ground.

Fiery pain seared across my forearm as another Wolf sliced me. I swung hard at him, but he blocked my strike with a strange black gauntlet. My sword shattered.

Fucking Four! Sunstone!

The shriek and shatter of more metal told me others were finding the same sunstone on other Wolves.

The Wolf struck again and again. I blocked and slashed where I could, but this fight wouldn’t last long if all our weapons were destroyed.

“Bombs!” I yelled.

My Wolf faltered for a moment, enough for me to kick him backward. I doused him with spattersap and grabbed a torch.

Dags tossed their powder bombs while others shot them with fiery arrows. They exploded, showering the confused Wolves with bursts of flame.

I held the torch to the boot of my fallen Wolf. Fire engulfed him. He rose, screaming, as I tossed more spattersap in his path and on any Wolf I ran past. He flailed blindly through the tunnel, sparking a wildfire among his comrades.

Blood-chilling howls tore from their throats as half the Wolves caught fire and the other half were slaughtered as they tried to flee.

Nikella impaled a snarling Wolf on her spear while a huge Dag—one of Maz’s cousins—threw another into two of his burning brethren.

Smoke and the smell of charred flesh made my eyes water. Coughing echoed in the tunnel. We hadn’t counted on the battle being underground, but rather in open air beyond the gate.

“Push them out!” I shouted.

Locking into step side by side with their weapons out, the Dags and sailors started herding the remaining Wolves toward the training yard.

I stayed behind with the bodies. Covering my mouth and nose with my shirt, I walked among them. Thirteen dead Dags. Ten dead sailors. Twenty dead Wolves.

Gods, I hadn’t expected such losses. There might be more by night’s end. Wounds and infections would take their toll as well.

Nikella coughed next to me, staring down at a Dag woman, her throat slashed. “Renwell must have guessed our entry point. He had those Wolves lying in wait.”

“Then he probably thinks we aren’t still alive. I need to get that door open.”

Nikella stared at me incredulously. “He’ll be waiting for you on the other side. You know that.”

“He won’t be expecting Librius’s final work of art,” I said, patting another pouch at my hip. “Take care of the bodies. I’ll let you know when I’m through.” I turned and sprinted back to Renwell’s office before she could argue.

I carefully fed spattersap—a highly flammable plant sap filled with fireseeds—into the door lock.

“Please, Holy Four, let this work,” I prayed.

I took up a bow and arrow and lit the arrow tip on fire. Holding my breath, I aimed and released.