Marcellus gritted his teeth, pounding the floor with his fist. But he knew Dradyn was right. He quickly slid his legs over and dropped through the aperture. As he fell, the howling sounds of wind and fire followed him into the darkness.
MARCELLUS LANDED IN rank, waist deep water that flowed slowly down a murky tunnel. The only light was from the opening above, which gave birth to distorted, dancing shadows. He whirled about with his sword at the ready, wary of an attack from the gloom.
Dradyn leaped down and splashed into the fetid waters. The clamor of the battle raged above them. Marcellus prayed that Nyori and Shiru prevailed.
"How do you know about the trapdoor? The king didn't even know."
"He's not the king," Marcellus said. "So he doesn't know all. This passage is the last resort for evacuating the king in case of the worst scenario."
Dradyn peered into the darkness. "What is this place?"
"Catacombs. The pagan kings of old lay here." Marcellus touched the moss-slicked stone, trying to feel his way forward. "There is a trough along the walls. It had oil in it the last time I was down here."
"I have flint, milord. Stand back."
Dradyn he struck the flint against the steel of his dagger blade. He leaped back as the oil caught flame. The fire ran along the trough, lighting up the tunnel.
They waded past the rune-encrypted walls and breaks in the tunnel where stairs led to ancient stone mausoleum doors engraved with unreadable characters. It wasn't long before Marcellus cursed and snatched his sword out the scabbard.
Dradyn sloshed over. "What is it?"
Marcellus put his finger to his lips, pointing to the door in front of them. It was closed, but muddy prints tracked across the thick-layered dust.
He spoke in a hushed tone. "Someone's been here. Might be our captain and his lady friend. It's the perfect place to hide."
Dradyn drew a deep breath. "The perfect place to hide a body. Let us pray that it will not be ours. There is no sunlight down here to protect us."
Marcellus nodded, pulling open the door. The stench rolled over him like invisible fog, saturating the air with the reek of decay. Marcellus' eyes watered as he gagged. It took all of his resolve to look inside. His breath caught at what he saw.
The remains of King Lucretius were shackled to a stone chair. He was stripped naked, his flesh white wax, his veins blackened webs that laced the skin. Lucretius' mouth was an open wound, gaping wide in a silent scream. His blackened pupils bulged from the sockets from when he died screaming for mercy or a quick death.
He received neither. Torture was evident by missing fingers, savaged flesh, and shattered bones protruding from the skin. It had been a long and agonizing death.
Dradyn doubled over, retching silently. Marcellus tried not to follow suit. He forced his mind to see past the horror, to stifle the grief that threatened to flood his resolve. Lucretius was dead. Marcellus' mission was to find his killers and make them pay.
"I don't understand," he said. "Why torture him like this? He was already in their power."
"Because we had to have all that he knew." A voice spoke from the darkened side of the room. "And he resisted."
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped from the shadows. His face was the type women would fancy, strong and square jawed. Black hair fell to his shoulders, and he wore the uniform of the Imperial Captain. Anon Misral, as Dradyn had named him.
Anon continued calmly. "All part of the process of stealing one's life, of course. Memories are ours for the taking once we break a person. Some fight to the end." He gestured to the grisly corpse.
"Others yield with little resistance." The raven-haired woman that emerged beside Anon was pale and slender. Her bold nose made her appear hawkish, but her gleaming eyes and full rosebud lips gave her a captivating type of beauty. Her black, richly embroidered silks fine enough for a ball instead of the tomb. Marcellus figured her to be Vivienne, Anon's mysterious lady friend.
"You must be the legendary Marcellus Admorran. You have no idea the trouble that you've caused us, do you? Your meddling is at an end, Sir Admorran. Your trespassing triggered an alarm that brought us instantly to you."
Her eyes glimmered when she glanced at Lucretius. "Still loyal to your king despite all that he did to destroy you. At least he died with some amount of honor. Your wife certainly didn't put up much of a fight." Her lips parted as though savoring the memory. "She was a weeping, simpering mess. We pulled all that we needed from her with ease before we killed her." Her plump lips curled back in an animal grin, teeth flashing in the dim torchlight.
Marcellus should have been furious, but rage had fled in place of fear. His hands trembled, his heart pounded as if seeking an escape from his chest. Flight was his only thought, yet his legs stood rooted in place; his breath clawed like a wild beast trapped in his throat.
"It is the darkfear." Dradyn choked, paralyzed as well. "Strike if you can!"
Vivienne strode slowly, graceful and deadly as a jungle cat. Marcellus could not break free from her hypnotic gaze. His arms trembled as he strove to fight her hold, sweat dripping from his brow. His hands barely kept their grip on his sword.
Vivienne grinned as though she knew how feeble his efforts were. Her hand softly traced his jaw line with her finger.
Marcellus winced as her fingernail slashed across his chin. She laughed as she licked the drop of blood that beaded on her finger. "Such brave men, to believe that you can truly defeat us. I can hear the clamor upstairs. Do you think that your Shama can overpower Eretik? He was killing her kind back when being called a Sha meant something." Her voice purred, and her smile never slipped as she dropped her hand to Marcellus' chest. The air rippled in front of her palm.
Marcellus' breath exploded from his lungs as an unseen force struck with staggering power. His feet left the floor, and he struck the brick wall with a boom that caused dust and chips of mortar to shower from the ceiling. His chest felt broken; black specks flickered across his vision as he fought to rise. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why he could not evade her attacks as he did Shiru's.
"Perhaps it is time for you to adopt a new guise, Anon," Vivienne said in the same cool tone. "Captain of the Guard has been useful, but to be the Champion of Kaerleon…" She clapped her hands gleefully. "A definite step up for you."
She did not even glance as Dradyn yelled and swung his short axe toward her head. Anon appeared seemingly from thin air, seizing Dradyn's wrist and squeezing. The axe fell harmlessly as Dradyn's bones snapped like old chalk. Dradyn snarled; tears trickled from his eyes as snatched a dagger from his belt.
"Get out, Marcellus!"
The dagger sunk deep in Anon's shoulder. He didn't even wince. His grin was fierce as he snatched Dradyn up by his throat and shoved upwards. Dradyn's head plowed through the low plaster ceiling with a crunching sound. White dust fluttered down on Anon's head and shoulders like newly fallen snow.
Blood fanned across Dradyn's brow. His muscles knotted as he tried to free himself, but Anon's fist slammed into his chest with such bone-crunching force that Dradyn was limp even before his body struck a pillar several paces away. The crumbling masonry burst apart and half-buried him.
Marcellus struggled against the fear that flailed his mind. He snatched up his sword and rushed at Vivienne, swinging desperately. She avoided his every slash and thrust as though her bones were made of water. Her delighted laughter mocked him as her movements blurred, too swift for him to follow.
He didn't feel the pain from the unseen blows until after she stopped moving. The sword hit the floor as his arm went dead, his body next as his legs gave way. His breath gusted against the dusty ground. Blood tricked from his mouth, pain coursed across his body. Out of breath and unable to move, he knew only death remained.