City of Illusions Page 7

  The Host stood still for a moment, then turned around and made as if to leave. Lumea could not stop the relieved sigh that escaped her. Immediately the feet stopped. Convinced that she was caught, Lumea squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. Moments later, the doors clicked shut.

  Seconds passed, and Lumea concentrated on every little sound she could hear. Maybe the man was still in the room, approaching from the other side. She was afraid to move, and the high showcase with the dress hid the other side of the room from sight. But everything was silent, so Lumea crawled carefully out from under her hiding place. To her relief, the rest of the archive room was empty.

  She was physically shaking as she gathered warmer clothes. She also found a large bag and a waterskin, which she filled at a faucet. She would have liked to take it with her while it was still empty and fill it at the little pond, but she trusted Elion’s judgment not to drink the water. She looked for other things that might come in handy wherever it was that they were going, and quickly left as soon as she had everything. She had been in the archive far too long.

  Amazed by Lumea’s decisive actions, Elion sat down on the ground next to Siard. They looked at each other, and Siard started laughing.

  “The lady sounded like she knew what she was talking about. Who knows what she’ll come back with.”

  “It’s not safe for her out there. She could be caught.”

  “That could have happened to you as well. Anyway, there’s nothing to do but wait. I assume you still don’t want to leave her behind.”

  Elion shook his head. “I’m annoyed with her naivety, but I couldn’t leave her in the hands of those Hosts.”

  “You can’t blame her for being young, Elion. She hasn’t experienced even half of what you’ve been through.”

  “You’re right, Siard, but you’re only a little bit older than she is, and you notice things that she does not.”

  “Perhaps, but I came here knowing that something might be wrong, which always makes people notice more than when they think they’re safe.”

  After that they remained silent until they heard someone approaching. They hid in the shadows until Lumea appeared. She was now dressed in a green mantle, and on her back she had the bag and the waterskin. Another piece of clothing was folded over her arm.

  Without speaking, she took a seat on the spot the two men had just vacated. She watched Elion’s surprised face with a smug expression. He had obviously not expected her mission to prove so successful. The two men sat down beside her, and she handed Siard a dark blue mantle. Then she passed around the waterskin and handed them some food from her bag.

  Siard was the first to speak. “It seems you knew where to go, judging by the success you had.”

  Elion only nodded, but Lumea was fine with that. She had another surprise for him.

  After dinner, Elion made to leave, but the young woman motioned for him to keep his place.

  “Despite the... abundance of information... you gave me,” she said sarcastically, “I assume we’re in for some dangerous times. And although you did not tell me to bring anything else, I took the liberty of stealing some weapons from the Hosts’ archive.”

  From a fold in her mantle she drew a bow and some arrows and handed them to Elion.

  “I could tell from your hands that you are an archer,” she said.

  For Siard she had a straight, two-handed sword. Lastly she withdrew a wicked-looking curved blade. Taking it from its scabbard, she checked the sharpness with her thumb. As she did, she wondered if Elion had expected her to be able to fight. She was not about to enlighten him, but for a moment her thoughts returned to her childhood, and the lessons in swordsmanship that she had received.

  As was the custom in Lunadeiron, her brothers had undergone martial training from an early age. Her parents had retained a master swordsman to teach the boys, among other things, the arts of the blade. Whenever she had had the chance, she had followed her brothers and watched them from behind a pillar as they executed intriguing exercises. She had admired the master’s prowess as he showed the boys what to do. She had always hoped to possess that same kind of skill, and in the deep of night, when she was sure nobody would see her, she had imitated the master’s movements.

  One day the sword-master had caught her watching from the pillar’s shadow, and when the lesson ended he handed her over to her parents. Her mother’s disapproval was obvious, but her father had given her the chance to explain exactly why she enjoyed watching so much, and because he judged these lessons to be harmless, he had talked with the sword-master—much to the dissatisfaction of his wife—to extend his lessons to include Lumea. Her brothers had laughed at first, but thanks to her nightly exercises she had already learned enough to reach their level in no time, and soon she even surpassed them. Now that she also had a master, Lumea had focused on perfecting her technique, and while sparring she had often defeated her brothers.

  She returned the sword to its scabbard and tied it to her back. Then she handed both men a dagger, at which point Siard started to laugh again.

  “The lady has thought this through. This is more than we could have hoped for.”

  Even Elion’s face showed a smile, an expression Lumea had not seen since they started their flight. Then he turned around and looked at her, asking, “So, which way are we going?”

  “It doesn’t seem safe to go back to the archive. They’re bound to miss these things soon. Let’s take the corridor to the left.” They gathered their things and started out once more.

  9

  The Hosts had congregated in an emergency meeting. Several things had happened on the previous day that they had not foreseen. It had all started with the theft of the Thuranc’s hand. Even though the culprit had already been apprehended, it should not have happened in the first place. Nobody should have been able to penetrate the place where the creature was kept. The culprit had been executed, and that put the embarrassing episode to an end. All that remained was to launch an investigation into how the theft had been possible.

  Shortly afterward, the Hosts had discovered a second disconcerting disappearance. Three of the guests had not gone back to their rooms when ordered. Troops had been sent out to apprehend them, so far without success. Most of the electricity in Hydrhaga was now to be used exclusively for the ongoing research, and the machines controlling the warm, summer weather had been shut down. The harsh winter conditions that followed made the search that much more difficult.

  The meeting had burst into chaos, with some Hosts pleading to soften the weather so as to make things easier for the patrols, while others favored the theory that the three missing persons must have died in the resulting cold. Even though this was the most favorable of all possible solutions, few of the Hosts thought it to be the likely outcome. Ward sat quietly between them, feeling incredibly guilty, because the guests in question had been under his direct care.

  Suddenly, the door opened and a worker ran in, panting heavily. He told them of the artifacts that had disappeared from the archive. His tale dispelled the last of the Hosts’ doubts. The three guests were still alive, and since they had taken weapons, their intentions were hostile.

  The workman’s words, as dark as they were, held a silver lining. The only route the guests could take into the archive without being discovered was past the cave with the six stalactites. Likewise, the only safe way out was through there. The archive’s building contained too many people for the runaways to remain hidden long, and if they had stayed there, they would have been discovered by now.

  With a shock, Ward realized what it was that he had seen in the archive, though at the time he could not put his finger on it. The dust which had gathered on the wooden showcases had been disturbed! Ward cursed himself. Why had he not trusted his instincts and looked around? When he had entered the archive, the intruder must have been there. He knew he had heard something and yet he had gone away without an investigation. Ward was afraid to look up, for he did not want anyone asking a
bout what had happened. Instead, he listened to the conversation which had erupted into chaos once again.

  The Hosts decided to send their troops into the cavern depths. Once in the caves, these Swintheri soldiers would split into five groups, and each group would be assigned to its own corridor. The Hosts then went back to their day-to-day business, convinced that it was only a matter of time before the runaways were caught.

  Lumea, Elion and Siard continued through the long passage. The dark, unknown terrain hampered their progress, for their eyes could not penetrate the darkness, but they did not dare to make any form of light, and so they had to feel their way forward. The corridor seemed endless. At times it would broaden into a rocky chamber, but they found no cross-corridors or branches.

  It was in one of those rocky chambers that Elion first heard the sounds of pursuit. Lumea’s heartbeat quickened. She had made sure they had weapons, and there was no doubt in her mind that Elion and Siard would be able to use them. Even though she was trained well, how would she hold up in a real fight? She did not get much time to wonder, however, as Elion told them to each stand on one side of the corridor, just past the point where it widened into the chamber.

  “I will be waiting up ahead. We’ll let the pursuers enter the chamber, and then attack them from all sides. Wait for my first arrow.”

  They had only just taken their positions when the pursuers entered. Lumea tried to count the number of opponents they were facing, and thought that there were about eight of them. They had lanterns with them, but still they did not see Elion, who had found a high spot on the rocky walls. Lumea gripped her sword tightly, and her senses were on high alert. When she had spotted the sword in the archive, it had reminded her of those that were used back home. It was not heavy, and the curved blade lent speed to every strike.

  Lumea heard the tell-tale creak of a bowstring being drawn just before Elion released, and she moved into action. Before one man had the time to fall down with a surprised scream, pierced by Elion’s arrow, she had killed the soldier closest to her with one stroke. Siard also sprang out of hiding. The Hosts’ troops were taken by surprise by the trio’s ambush. In the ensuing confusion, five men soon lay dead. After a few moments, the survivors realized what was happening and organized their counter-attack. Elion was of no further use in the skirmish, as the Swintheri’s lights were weak, and in the gloom he could not distinguish friend from foe.

  Siard and Lumea stood toe to toe with the three remaining soldiers. Lumea fought bravely, but this was different from the sparring she was used to at home. Her quick movements parried her opponent’s attacks, but when she tried to wound him she always met one of his two blades. Judging by the sound of metal striking metal, Siard was facing the same problem. Then she felt a searing pain in her arm. Full of disbelief, she stared at the blood running down her arm. The sudden realization that this was a fight to the death—that if she did not win, she would die—gave her a burst of strength. Her movements quickened and when her opponent slipped, she took his life. Slowly, the silence seeped through to Lumea. Siard had defeated the other two Swintheri.

  They were safe for the moment, so Elion took the opportunity to make some light. The floor around them was strewn with bodies, their eyes staring into oblivion. Where their armor had proved insufficient, their ocher tunics were smeared with blood. The sight was startling for Lumea. She realized that, to a certain extent, she was responsible for this. She had taken lives here without knowing who these men were or what their intentions had been. She fought to keep control of her emotions, but tears still streamed down her cheeks. Siard looked at Elion and gestured for them to rest somewhere else, where Lumea would not be reminded of what had happened.

  She followed the men to the next rocky chamber. This one was deeper than the last. It seemed to be a good place to catch their breath after the fight. Lumea shivered as she sat down, leaning against the wall. She dropped her head on her arms, fighting to regain control of her ragged breathing, though she could not banish the memory of the corpses from her mind. Knowing that she had deliberately killed three men without a clear reason was more than she could bear. She gagged and threw up. Elion came to sit by her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “Was this the first time you had to kill?” he asked.

  She nodded, still shivering.

  “It will be less terrible next time.”

  Lumea suspected that he had meant it as comfort, but to her, his words sounded ominous. It meant there was going to be a next time. Elion did not seem upset about the fight, and Lumea felt shock that taking a life seemed so trivial to him.

  Elion touched her arm briefly when he wanted to get up. When he saw her flinch, though, he turned back to her, and she avoided his gaze.

  “You are hurt?” Elion asked concernedly.

  “It’s nothing, it’ll heal on its own.”

  “At least let me take a look at it.”

  Without waiting for her answer, he hoisted up her sleeve and looked at the wound. It ran down the length of her upper arm, but fortunately, it was not a deep cut. Elion searched it intently, after which he took a small bag from beneath his tunic. He took some herbs out of the bag and chewed them, then carefully applied the resulting poultice to the wound. It stung, but Lumea tried not to flinch.

  Then Elion took the kerchief from his head and tore off a piece to bind her arm. Lumea looked in surprise at the pointed shape of Elion’s ears. He was an elf! She laughed, how many times had he surprised her now? Now everything seemed to fall into place. Elion’s new identity fitted him much better than anything she had thought before. The elf pushed his long hair away from his face, suddenly self-conscious. It had been a long time since anyone had found out his secret, and anyway, human reactions were never predictable. Not all of the old grudges had been forgotten, by either race. But in Lumea’s far away land, the battle between men and elves had been the stuff of legend, not the account of a cruel past.

  “You fought bravely out there, Lumea. I’m glad you were with us.”

  As if to wipe away the last memories of the fight, he used the rest of his kerchief to remove the bloodstains from her face.

  Lumea smiled. “We did it together.”

  Siard stood up from where he had been keeping watch at the chamber’s entrance. Now he took the waterskin and passed it around. “It’s time to move on,” he said.

  10

  Lumea, Elian and Siard tried to hurry along so that they would outdistance their pursuers. They had been lucky to ambush the soldiers, but the party knew that in future encounters the Swintheri would be more careful.

  The farther they traveled, the colder it became. A howling wind blew through the corridor, drowning out all other noise. It was getting late and they were exhausted, but they decided to press on. They decided that from now on they would travel during the night and try to get some rest during the day. Elion looked at Lumea every now and then with concern in his eyes, but she bravely kept up. The fatigue and their rapid pace made everything that had happened before seem like a dream.

  Finally, they reached the end of the corridor and were outside. It was morning, and they looked at the wintry landscape in surprise. Despite the cold air that they had felt in the corridor, none of them were prepared for the sight of several feet of snow. After all, the last time they had been outside, it had still been summer.

  To their left were the woods they had seen from a distance while living in Hydrhaga. They decided to look for shelter there among the trees, so they made their way through the snowdrifts, finding a willow which had been surprised by the sudden onset of winter. Unable to shed their leaves, the branches were bowed down and the heavy snow covering them served to create a dry place near the tree’s trunk. Lumea and Siard filed inside, and when Elion looked back he saw that their footsteps were being erased by the wind and snow.

  As soon as Lumea lay down, sleep overtook her. Elion changed the dressing on her arm carefully, trying not to wake her. Siard was sitting n
ext to her, the exhaustion clearly visible on his face, and Elion nodded at him to go to sleep as well. The elf was used to going without sleep. He had noticed a long time ago that if he tired himself out enough, the nightmares that usually accompanied sleep had no chance to come close. He drew his cape around him and tried to think of what they should do now.

  From afar, he could hear the sound of baying hounds, as if a pack of them were worked up into a frenzy. Afraid that he had landed in another nightmare, Elion pinched himself. He had, in fact, nodded off, but the sounds only became louder. The dogs were real.

  Lumea woke up as well, and came over to lie down beside him. Afraid of the barking, she looked at Elion questioningly, but he shook his head. He did not know what to think of it either. Then he turned around and shook Siard. Together, they waited, tensed up and with their weapons at the ready. Then the volume of the baying dogs suddenly increased. Something was happening.

  The Hosts had been convinced that the fugitives would soon be caught. When one group of Swintheri after the other returned empty-handed, though, they began to lose hope. Two of the groups had yet to return.

  The following day one of the groups did come back, and it became obvious that the last group was missing in action. The Swintheri were ordered to search for their comrades in the last corridor. They hurried into the cave and soon found their fellow soldiers, dead. They had suspected that the group had been defeated by the runaways, but faced with the reality of the corpses, they were dumbfounded. How had three simple runaways managed to kill eight trained professionals?