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Change of plans. He reached for the rope and pulled himself above the swordsmen’s range. The rope ended at the underside of a catwalk near the ceiling. Valek grasped the edge of the walk and hauled himself up. He lay on his stomach and surveyed the situation.
The building was only three stories high. A wooden staircase clung to the back wall of the warehouse. Boots pounded and dust fogged the air as the ambushers rushed up the stairs. Four men remained at the base of the rope. Smart.
Valek crawled to the edge of the catwalk and hopped down to the third-floor landing. He ran to the closest window, hoping for a way down. Otherwise he would have to surrender.
Using the hilt of his sword, he shattered the windowpane. He smiled when he saw the fire escape. The drumming of his pursuers’ footsteps grew louder as Valek stepped onto the metal staircase. The men shouted to their companions on the ground floor.
It wasn’t the clatter of feet above him that made Valek pause about halfway down but the loud metallic groan. He looked up in time to see two more men push out onto the fire escape.
Top heavy and rusted through, the staircase screeched and broke away from the building. Valek braced himself, but the jolt shook him loose. And his forehead slammed into the edge of a stair when it bounced.
By the time he regained his wits, he was entangled in the fire escape and surrounded by three armed men. Their sword tips hovered mere inches from his chest and throat. Before he could say a word, another man came close and the last thing Valek saw was the dangerous end of a club.
* * *
Stabbing pain woke Valek. His head felt as if a blacksmith was using it as an anvil. Every muscle in his body ached and a fire burned along his shoulders and back. His arms quivered with strain until he realized he was hanging from his wrists. He positioned his feet under him and stood. Chains clanked as he moved.
With his feet chained to the floor and his arms chained to the ceiling, Valek could only shift a few inches. He glanced around the cell. Carved from stone, it had one man-made wall with iron bars. The lock on the door was recognizable. Easy to pop if he could get at it.
He wore his own clothes and knew, even if the guards had done a thorough search, he still had a few toys left. No one has been able to find everything he carried. So far.
He would have to wait for an opportunity to escape. Unfortunately his jailers wouldn’t give him any openings. They refused to speak to him. They squirted water into his mouth, standing at a distance even though he was chained. Their actions alarmed him. Usually once he was in a cell, his captors were overconfident and made mistakes.
The reason for their caution became clear when Valek had his first visitor.
“I should hire a painter so I’ll always have a picture to remind me of your pathetic predicament,” Tam said. Pure malicious glee lit his grey eyes. His black hair was braided into one long rope down his back. “I’ve warned them about you, but I really didn’t think it would be this easy. You’ve lost your edge. Gone soft. The old Valek wouldn’t have risked himself for a woman.”
“I’ve no regrets,” Valek said.
Tam huffed in amusement. “We’ll see if you feel the same way when the noose is tied around your neck.”
“Still angry over the lack of work in Ixia, Tamequintin?” Now that he could see him up close, Valek recognized the man. Tam had been a popular and well-paid assassin for the Ixian monarchy and a colleague of Valek’s. When the Commander gained control of Ixia, Tam hadn’t been content to be Valek’s second in command. He disappeared soon after.
“I never lack for work. In fact, a certain magician paid me very well to come to Ixia and deal with a problem for him.”
“Mogkan’s dead.”
“True. But it was the first real challenge I’ve had in a long, long time. And yet I was very disappointed.” Tam gestured to Valek. “Captured with the first effort.”
“So all this was for me?” Relief pulsed though him and he almost laughed.
“Initially, yes. Then I heard about an order of execution sitting idle on the Commander’s desk. If I was going to get rid of you, then the Commander would need a new security chief. How better to show the Commander my unique qualifications by assassinating his former food taster?”
“The order isn’t valid in Sitia,” Valek said. His heart rate increased. Yelena remained in danger.
“But it will showcase my knowledge and contacts in Sitia so well, I’m sure the Commander will understand. And I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t hang around to gloat during your hanging. I’ve hunting to do.” Tam made to leave, but paused. “The authorities are well aware of your abilities, so they won’t transfer you to the Citadel for a public execution. Instead the Sitian Councilors and Master Magicians are coming here. Enjoy your short stay.” Tam waved jauntily and left the cell.
Frustration coursed through Valek’s blood. He should have brought backup with him. He could have sent Ari after Tam, keeping Yelena safe.
Should haves and could haves wouldn’t help him. Pulling on the chains didn’t work, but it was better than just standing there.
The day passed slowly. Muffled sounds of hammering reached him, grating on his nerves. The town probably had to build gallows. His guards kept their distance, and Valek realized his only chance to escape would be when they took him to be hanged.
Later that night, a second shift of guards came on duty. But when one of the guard’s came into the cell, Valek felt magic. Even though he was immune to magic’s effects, he sensed it as if the air in his cell had thickened and pressed against his skin.
The guard was a woman, but she used her magic to disguise herself as a man. Valek saw through the illusion.
“I can help you escape,” she whispered, “but you have to promise to do one thing for me in exchange.”
“What do you want?”
“Promise first.”
“I won’t harm or endanger Yelena, and she’s my first priority.”
“The promise has nothing to do with her. Time is not a factor. Will you promise?”
Chapter Four
Valek considered the woman’s offer. He’d been in worse situations over the years, but now time was a critical factor. He couldn’t wait until the perfect opportunity to escape arose. Not when an assassin hunted Yelena.
“I promise,” he said.
The magician’s tight expression eased, and she flashed him a smile of relief. Moving quickly, she unlocked the metal cuffs on Valek’s wrists and ankles. He rubbed his arms as a stinging pain rushed through them.
“Here.” She handed him a set of lock picks. “Wait about ten minutes before you use them. I’ll distract the others when you get to the guard room, and rendezvous with you on the road to Fulgor.”
“Hurry up, Justus,” a guard yelled. “My tea’s getting cold.”
She turned to go.
“Hold on. What’s the promise?” Valek said.
“No time. Later.”
“At least tell me your real name.”
She paused by the cell’s door. “Ziva.” Her voice was a whisper. “Ziva Moon.” Slipping through the door, she pulled it shut behind her. The loud clang echoed in the stone cell, followed by the distinct click of the lock.
Valek spent the next ten minutes stretching to return flexibility to his stiff muscles. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he tried to ignore the pangs. Instead, he focused on the task at hand—escaping.
The cell’s lock popped without trouble. Easing open the door, he glanced down the prison’s hallway. Empty. For now. One of the disadvantages of being brought in unconscious, Valek didn’t know the layout of the building. However, most prisons had the same basic design—cells underground and a guard room between them and freedom.
Valek turned left and moved without sound. A few cells were occupied; soft snores floated on the damp air. The hallway ended at a staircase. Lantern light flickered through iron bars that blocked the top of the steps. A thick metal plate covered the locking mechanism, le
aving only a slender hole for the bolt’s key. He heard murmured voices and chuckles. The guard room.
Valek listened for a while. He counted six separate guards. Climbing the rough stone staircase, he calculated how quickly the guards would notice him working on the lock. With luck, Ziva would divert their attention long enough for him to open the door. He peered through the bars. Five heavily armed men occupied the room, which appeared to be the office, as well.
Ziva remained in disguise. She met Valek’s gaze and nodded. Walking over to the window, she glanced out. Magic pulsed in the air. She grunted with effort. After a few moments, she cried out in alarm, “The gallows are on fire.”
The men rushed to the window, and Valek opened the lock during the commotion. He waited. Orders shouted, three men raced from the office, leaving two men and Ziva behind. She slumped under the window. The sticky feel of magic vanished as the illusion disguising the magician disappeared.
“Justus, what’s the matter?” One of the guards hurried over to her.
Valek eased through the door.
“What the—”
Using the guard’s shock over discovering Ziva wearing Justus’s uniform, Valek rammed into the man and pulled the guard’s club from his weapon belt as he fell. A temple strike later and the guard ceased to move. Valek turned in time to engage the remaining guard.
