The Spirit Thief

CHAPTER 20

Marion led them deeper than Miranda had imagined the castle could reach, down below the prison, below the foundations, and into the very heart of the stone that lay far below the fertile soil of Mellinor. Though the city was low lying, there was no sign of water here, no seepage over the years as one would expect to find this deep below the surface. Only the ancient, wooden support beams and the occasional fluttering light of the lamps broke the monotony of the smooth, dry stone as the narrow hallways and connecting stairs descended deeper and deeper into the earth.

Finally, at the base of the longest stairway yet, they reached a small wooden door.

“This is as far as I can take you,” Marion said, turning to face them. “The treasury hall is just beyond here, but I’ve never been inside myself. Actually,” she said and blushed sheepishly, “servants aren’t even allowed past the prison, but I spent a lot of time memorizing drawings of the castle back when I was the Master Architect’s assistant, before I got promoted to librarian.”

“Well, thank the Powers for that,” Eli said, smiling charmingly. “You’ve been a most effective guide, Lady Marion.”

Marion’s blush spread as Eli took her hand and guided her back toward the stairs. “I must insist that you return now. You’ve risked far too much helping us.”

“It was the least I could do,” Marion mumbled. She looked shyly at Miranda and dropped into a sudden, haphazard curtsy. “Thank you, lady. Good luck!”

She whirled around and scrambled back up the stairs as fast as she could go. Miranda watched her with a faint smile. Only when the girl’s footsteps had safely faded away did she turn back to the grim task before them.

Josef had pressed himself against the wooden door and was peering through the gaps in the boards with one eye. Nico was crouched below him, peeking under the crack where the door met the floor, while Eli hovered impatiently behind them both. “How does it look?” he asked.

“Interesting,” Josef said. He stepped aside so Miranda and Eli could have a look.

Miranda pressed her eye against the crack, and her breath caught in her throat. On the other side of the door was the treasury hall Marion had mentioned. It was much larger than Miranda had expected, roughly a hundred feet from end to end and wide enough for ten men to stand shoulder to shoulder. She knew that last bit for certain, because that’s how they were standing. The corridor was absolutely packed with soldiers. They were standing at attention in tight rows running from wall to wall down the entire length of the carved hall. Each soldier carried a tall, wooden shield in one hand and an iron-tipped spear in the other. Bright torches hung from every bracket on the blackened walls, filling the entire corridor with light. At the end of the hall, almost hidden by the bristling spears and peaked helmets, the top edge of the iron treasury door was visible, a black spot in the dancing light.

“That explains why there were no guards outside,” Josef whispered. “They must have packed the entire army in there. Even if we were invisible, we couldn’t sneak through without shoving half a platoon out of the way.”

Miranda bit her lip. “Nico”—she looked down at the girl—“couldn’t you just do your, um, disappearing thing to get past them?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Nico said. “It’s too far to go in one jump. I’d have to land in the middle of them. Anyway, what would I do when I got there? You all would still be here.”

“Well,” Josef said, “I guess there’s nothing for it.” He walked back up the stairs a little ways and took hold of one of the wooden support beams. Bracing his foot against the stone wall, he dug his fingers into the wood and began to pull. The wood squealed under his grip, and the old stone crumbled. Josef pulled harder and, with a cracking sound, yanked the beam free of its anchors. Miranda gaped like a landed fish as the swordsman swung the six-foot beam over his shoulder like it was made of straw. The noise had drawn some attention. Shouted orders and the sound of shields slamming down filtered through the thin door. Josef, however, walked calmly down the stairs past Eli and the gaping Miranda and paused just in front of the door, beside Nico.

“Ready, girl?” he said.

To Miranda’s amazement, Nico’s pale face lit up in an enormous smile. “Always, swordsman.”

“Wait,” Miranda whispered. “What are you—”

Josef lifted his foot and, in a motion too fast for Miranda’s eyes to follow, kicked down the door. Time slowed to a crawl as all the soldiers turned toward the sound, and for one endless, silent moment, no one moved. Then, Josef’s wooden beam caught the closest soldier square in the chest, and the hallway erupted.

The soldiers surged forward, shouting and brandishing their spears. The alarm horns rang out deafeningly close, and the stone floor trembled under the pounding boots as the wave of armed men crashed into the small doorway. Josef swung his beam in huge arcs, sweeping soldiers off their feet and slamming them by the half dozen into the mosaic walls. He waded into the thick of them, the Heart of War securely strapped across his back, its leather disguise falling off in ragged chunks as it deflected strokes that would otherwise have landed in the swordsman’s spine.

Miranda tried to run forward, but Eli’s hands wrapped around her shoulders and flung her with surprising strength against the doorframe.

“Let me go!” she shouted. “That idiot’s going to get us all killed!”

“Too late for that!” Eli shouted back. “He’s already going. If you interfere, he’ll have to watch out for you, and then he really will die.” He eased his grip a fraction. “Trust him,” he said. “Josef’s the best there is.”

Miranda wanted desperately to believe the thief, but at that moment a resounding twang cut through the battle as the archers in the back released a flight of arrows into the fray. She watched in horror as the arrows sailed over the crowd, almost scraping the smoke-stained ceiling before arcing downward straight at Josef’s unguarded head. Right before the barbed tips landed, they vanished. Suddenly, Nico was there, standing on his shoulders, her enormous coat swirling around her like water, the arrows clutched in her bony hand. She tossed them aside just in time to knock the next volley out of the air, effortlessly shifting her balance to match Josef’s swings, for the swordsman kept going as if she wasn’t there. Josef was laughing, moving in long, rolling arcs down the chaotic corridor, the beam flying in front of him and the Heart guarding his back. Whenever he left an opening, soldiers of all sizes and builds would lunge for it, only to be caught by a well-aimed kick and then swept into the wall with the others as the beam came down.

Miranda watched in amazement, not bothering to fight Eli’s grip any longer. “He’s a monster,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Eli whispered back. “That’s why the Heart of War chose him.”

When Josef’s path of destruction had almost reached the treasury door, Nico launched herself off his shoulders and began laying waste to the last few lines of archers, most of whom had dropped their bows and were frantically fighting with short swords. Nico moved between them like a shadow, jabbing each man twice between the ribs before he fell to the ground clutching his stomach, unable to do more than gurgle in pain. By the time she reached the end of the archer line, the remaining soldiers were fleeing in panic, stumbling down the hall as fast as they could and paying no attention to Eli or Miranda as the two stepped out of the shelter of the small stair.

The hallway was a mess. Soldiers lay slumped in moaning piles against the cracked stone walls, their bloody splashes obscuring the rolling mosaics. Still, while badly battered, almost all were alive and groaning pathetically as Miranda and Eli hurried past them. Josef sighed loudly, leaning the battered, bloody, but still intact wooden beam against the wall beside the treasury door. He was sweaty, dirty, and breathing hard, but he could have been plowing a field or digging a ditch for all Miranda could tell. There wasn’t a wound on him. Nico was the same way, leaning against the wall with a satisfied grin.

“That,” Josef panted, “was the best five minutes of this whole”—pant—“awful”—pant—“job.”

“Glad someone’s having fun,” Eli said, rolling one of the unconscious soldiers away from the door. “Now, let’s see if the reward was worth the mess.”

He took a step back and looked up at the enormous iron door with a low whistle. “Impressive.” He grinned wide. “Now I see why Renaud didn’t just enslave his way in as a boy. Sandstorms are chaotic and stupid, easy to control if your will is stronger. But metal, especially thick, old metal like this?” He rapped his knuckles on the door’s surface, making a strange, metallic echo down the ruined hall that only made him grin wider. “You’d use up all your energy just waking it up, never mind controlling it.”

Miranda stepped forward, running her fingers over the smooth, cold iron. “Can you open it?”

If possible, Eli’s grin grew wider still. “Who do you think I am?” he said, putting both hands palm down above the door’s handle. Miranda snorted, but said nothing, stepping back to watch him work. A moment after Eli’s hands settled on the iron, his expression changed from cocky to quizzical. He gave the door a push with his palms, and it swung inward with a faint scrape.

Miranda blinked in amazement. “I guess you’re not all talk.”

“High praise indeed,” Eli said, stepping back. “I wish I could claim it, but that wasn’t me. The door’s unlocked.”

Josef walked over to him and stared hard at the metal door, which was slowly drifting open under its own weight. “You realize,” he said quietly, “this is probably a trap.”

“We’ve been walking into a trap since we got here, most likely.” Eli looked sideways at Josef. “You said so yourself.”

Josef shrugged and picked up his beam again. “Too late to worry about it now.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Eli said, and shoved the door as hard as he could.

The metal slab swung open easily, and an old, cold wind ruffled their hair. The light from the hall torches extended only a foot from the threshold. Beyond that, the treasury stretched out into flat blackness, without depth or end. Miranda took a tentative step forward, reaching out, but she felt no spirits, mad or otherwise. The groans of the soldiers outside faded as soon as she crossed the threshold, and the scrape of her boot was frighteningly loud in the sudden stillness.

All at once, Josef shuddered as if he’d been thrown into an icy pond. He stepped forward, staring determinedly into the featureless dark. “I know you’re there,” he said. “Come out.”

His voice echoed in the darkness, the words repeating over each other and then fading again. For a long moment, nothing changed. Then, a few yards in front of them, a match flared to life, illuminating a pair of eyes, one blue, one clouded silver.

“Hello, Josef,” he said. “What took you?”