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Vesara’s fingers splayed as if she might claw him to death.
Renton eased between them, fully prepared to catch a fist or a knife. “You’re not coming with, Sut’hik. Stay here and make sure no one lays a hand on Tenah.”
She held his firm stare. Then she slapped the pouch with the transportation orb into his outstretched hand. “I suppose Hass gets to turn that into the Embassy when you’re done with it.” She sneered. “The orb won’t take you directly into Cragnore. There’s too many wards in place. Same with returning home. It’ll drop you in the fields outside Denoden’s gates, so have fun with that.”
Renton slid the orb into his palm and spun it carefully in the early morning sunlight, seeking the image of Brinedale’s gloomy rows of neat townhomes in its depths. Boedworth had dragged him there once to carry out an execution. Renton’s hesitation had earned him a blade to the stomach.
Bright green light pulsed from the orb, trapping Renton and Hass in a sphere of magic. His brother snuck into the bubble of magic right before it crackled.
“You’re a horrible listener,” Renton muttered.
Stretched and tugged, they were spat out onto a rain-slick street lined with uniform dark two-story homes. No sunlight pierced the blanket of soupy clouds above Brinedale, making it hard to determine a time of day.
Renton tossed his brother the orb. “Any sign of trouble, and you teleport out of here, understood?”
No one will know I’m here, Aeyis said. I’ll keep a mental sweep of the surroundings for Boedworth and his hunters while you pillage his den.
Dread wriggled into Renton’s chest. This wouldn’t go wrong. He’d met his quota for misfortune in this life already. They would finally shake free of Boedworth. They would bring his crimes to light before the High Court. Everything would be fine.
* * *
Rain fell in cold sheets. It plastered Renton’s hair to his skull and drenched the protective clothes beneath his armor as he wove Hass deeper into the swamps.
There were countless entrances into Cragnore. Natives had burrowed out in all directions much like anthill. Pinpointing them hidden under illusions during a storm however…
Renton tuned in to the shard buried in his heart. He let it guide him past the stone ruins of an abandoned cathedral dedicated to the worship of Sakkren. There the shard dropped him at the bank of a sludge pool. He dipped a finger in and withdrew it, completely dry.
“The hell you doing?” Hass asked gruffly, coming to a halt beside him.
The shard jabbed at his heart, signaling the presence of dark magic. Funny, the very thing that made him cursed was what made him excel at his profession.
“Finding us a shortcut,” Renton answered, leaping into the fake sludge pool.
His boots struck the compacted dirt floor of a tunnel. Hass followed suit without coaxing, landing soundlessly beside him.
Renton drenched them in magic, obscuring them from sight as they approached the end of the tunnel. Two hunters in heavy armor blocked the sloping path into the cavernous, stinking pit that was Cragnore. Murky, green orb lights hung from the ceiling like globs of slime, and mottled roots and vines ensnared sleek, granite buildings along a spiderweb of roads.
Hass didn’t wait for an order. He struck with precise jabs of his knives. Renton felt a prick of guilt as he stepped over the hunter’s bodies. He supposed Hass too had been raised on the idea that everything spawned in the Boglands was evil.
Sweating from the effort of casting magic, Renton allowed his illusion to drop like a curtain. Tossed into the busy flow of traffic through the city, Hass peeked over the edge of a bridge.
“There’s a pervading odor here,” Hass muttered, wrinkling his nose.
Renton knew what resided at the bottom of the pit. Stagnant water, intermingled with corpses dropped in by the monsters that hid in the gnarled roots of the alleyways and dead-end tunnels.
“We can’t all live in skyscrapers and palaces,” Renton said sarcastically. Hass tossed him a questioning look, but Renton simply nodded at two more hunters lurking outside the mahogany doors of Boedworth’s domain. “No blades this time. Have some respect for life.”
Tucked behind a merchant stall, Hass gave him a nod. Renton had the brief inclination to question what Vesara had done to lose his trust, only because he’d left Tenah in her care. But they didn’t have the luxury of time.
Renton kicked the leg out from the stall.
Produce tumbled into the road, causing a motorized cart to slam into a horse-drawn wagon and then into another line of stalls. Shadows and Ashens erupted into a mad dash, eager to avoid the explosion of fruits, vegetables, and splintered wood.
Hass on his heels, Renton charged across the road and dipped into his employer’s vile lair. Inside, Renton braced against the wall of the low-lit, smoky space. His breaths came in labored spurts, his stomach churning sickly. He sensed the eyes of gamblers and hunters on him.
“You good?” Hass asked, eyeing him warily.
Renton smashed his fist against his heart. He’d overdone it with the magic. At this rate, Hass might have to carry him out of here.
