Voice of war, p.3
Voice of War, page 3
part #1 of Threadlight Series
Luther walked in the door first, Reina and Lazarus walking in behind him. Chrys greeted each of them as they entered. “Luther, how are you, friend?”
“I’ve been better. Thanks for letting me come. I needed this.” Luther’s eyes were sunken and dry. He looked fitting for a man who’d lost his son.
“Let’s take it easy if we need to.”
Luther nodded.
Chrys turned to Lazarus, a hulking Sapphire threadweaver with bright red hair. Next to Luther’s dark complexion, looking at Laz was like looking at the surface of the sun. “Laz, today may be your lucky day.”
The big man smiled a toothy grin. “Is bath time?”
“If we’re lucky.”
The first day Chrys met Laz, the big oaf had made a joke about the city being a child. “Kids are dirty and show no respect,” Laz had said. “Sometimes you must take out back, give whack, and give bath.” He claimed that when he slid his blade through a criminal, he was simply “giving city a bath.” Lovely man.
“We received some intelligence about a warehouse that may be a Bloodthief hideout. No guarantees but, if it’s true and we’re not careful, it could become a bloody bath indeed. Now, let’s see your arms.” They were accustomed to this. Chrys always checked their veins to make sure they had not been threadweaving. Too much in a day was dangerous and, if things went south, they’d need to be ready.
One by one they rolled up their sleeves, extended their arms, and let Chrys examine their veins. Laz was a Sapphire threadweaver, but his veins didn’t radiate the bright blue they would if he had been threadweaving recently. Reina was a capable Emerald threadweaver whom they affectionately referred to as The Alirian Spider. Her veins were clean. Professional as always. Luther looked at Chrys and rolled up his sleeves. Chrys could see a slight green discoloration in the veins.
“Stones, Luther,” Chrys swore.
“For what it’s worth, this was kind of last minute,” Luther said impassively. “My son was taken from me. Threadlight helps.”
Chrys took a deep breath. He was starting to wonder if letting Luther come had been a mistake. “That’s a conversation for another time. It’s not enough to delay things, but next time I want you clean.”
He nodded.
“The plan is to approach the warehouse,” Chrys explained, “careful to observe any comings or goings. Be wary of windows and lookouts. We don’t want them alerted. If this is real, it could be a huge win for the city. Luther will come with me through the front entrance. The two of you will approach from the rear.”
“Won’t be the first time Laz approached from the rear,” Reina smirked as she clapped the big man on the back.
“Huh? Ah! Ha!” Laz let out a bellowing laugh.
Chrys stared at them, his eyes emotionless. “Thank you, Reina. Are you finished?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time Laz finished—” Reina started, unable to hold it in. “Sorry. Please, continue.”
Laz and Reina smiled at each other. It was always a sound strategy to pair a Sapphire with an Emerald. Complimentary threadweaving. Push and pull. Chrys and Luther had been working together since the War. Laz and Reina had started working together since Chrys had become high general. They trusted each other.
“This may be nothing, or it may be more than we can handle. If it’s too dangerous we’ll pull out on my signal. Any questions?”
“I assume non-lethality is the goal here?” Reina asked, eyeing Laz.
Chrys nodded. “Yes. A nice, soothing bath. Not a blood bath. The more we capture alive, the more we have to question.”
The two of them were so different both mentally and physically that it was surprising how well they worked together. Laz was thick. There was no better word to describe it. Huge muscular arms under a trunk of a neck, topped with well-cropped red hair and a stylish beard. Reina was lithe and short, with the white hair of the Alirian island natives. Luther kept his head shaved.
“Bath is bath as long as you scrub few stains.”
“Right. I’ll take that as a confirmation.”
Reina raised her hand, her tattered arm leathers swaying with the movement.
“Yes?” Chrys asked.
“Who was your informant? If someone saw something, then others probably did too. Chances are they’ve already moved. What if we’re walking into a trap? Four threadweavers sauntering into the warehouse of a group that’s been kidnapping threadweavers? Could be awfully convenient for them.” She folded her arms and her long hair bunched up at the shoulders.
Laz gave them a sadistic smile. “If is trap, I get the soap.”
There is nothing like the smell of stale sewage for masking crime. The air permeated with filth as Chrys watched Laz and Reina start down the shadowed alleyway. The lower westside of Alchea was far from the city center and had significantly less foot traffic. Chrys and Luther passed by a man who looked like he was days away from death. He was laying on the corner of an alleyway that smelled like urine. If he’d brought any shines—the tiny gemstones used as currency—Chrys would have tossed the man a few, but instead he walked on.
“Come on,” He nodded down toward the opposite road. Luther followed without a word. “Keep your eyes open. We stand out here.”
They moved slowly through the streets, peeking around each corner before rounding it. After a few minutes they reached their destination, a large warehouse squished in between decrepit houses. There were no windows on the ground level, but there were a few on the floor above. From a distance they all looked covered.
They stayed hidden for a few minutes, watching the windows and door. There was no movement, and no passersby. Chrys gestured to Luther and they moved forward.
They approached a large, nondescript wooden door. Upon closer investigation, they noticed specks of blood at the base of the handle. Luther pulled out a whistle and blew into it. The noise was so high pitched that it was hard to hear unless you were listening for it. Laz and Reina would be listening on the other side of the building.
Chrys tested the door; it pushed open with a creak. He signaled to Luther and they prepared for a quick entrance. He thrust his boot into the door, and it splintered near the hinges as it shot open from the force. Dust kicked up in the air, swirling in the misty sunlight shining down through holes in the roof. A partially broken staircase led up to an open second floor that wrapped around the outside of the room. The ceiling was high enough for a third floor, but was left open, exposing beams and a curved, arching roof. Soot and dirt lined the walls and railings.
From the back of the warehouse another loud boom reverberated through the empty air. Laz and Reina came bursting through the doorway, axe and daggers raised, veins lit with threadlight.
Chrys turned to Luther. “It’s either a trap or the intel was bad. Either way, proceed with caution.”
He signed for the others to do the same. They each made their way through the vast room. Silent, save for the sound of creaking floorboards. There were two rooms along the eastern wall; both were empty. After a few minutes of quiet investigation, they came back together.
Laz lowered his axe and hiked up the bag on his back. His toothy grin broke the silence. “Looks like place needs different kind of cleaning.”
Reina laughed. “You’ve been smiling to yourself for the last minute. I bet you’ve been waiting this entire time to say that.”
“Oh, come on, was good one!”
Chrys leaned against a railing. This was his only lead, and he desperately needed answers. Not to mention how Jurius would react if they came back empty-handed. “Luther and I saw some blood on the door handle out front. Make another sweep and see if you can’t find any more. There has to be something in here. Luther, try the roof.” He paused. “And Laz. That was a good one.”
Luther ran toward the north wall, the veins in his arms radiating green threadlight, and he leapt. If an Emerald threadweaver pulled hard enough against a wall or ceiling, they could overcome the gravitational pull of their corethread, allowing them to walk up the wall. Luther, a well-trained Emerald, ran up, shifting the base of the thread he was pulling as he ascended.
The other three spread out and stared at the ground as they looked for anything suspicious. They spread out from the center into the four corners, Chrys moving toward the southwest wall where the decrepit staircase began. He examined the railing, unsure what he was looking for, still finding nothing out of place.
Luther leapt back toward the ground after checking the roof, pulling on the ceiling to slow his descent. It groaned under the weight and Chrys cringed at the idea of the roof collapsing. Luther’s boots hit the ground hard, and he looked down, surprised.
“Aye, Chrys,” Luther shouted from across the room.
“What do you have?”
“Nothing,” Luther looked confused. “The walls and beams and crates are all covered in dust and dirt, but the floors have nothing. This place isn’t abandoned. Lots of people have been walking around here recently. I’d bet they even swept it.”
Nothing is better than nothing. Chrys looked down at the ground and was mad that he hadn’t seen it earlier. Luther was right; the floors near the wall were dirty, but the rest of the floor was nearly dust-free. He walked around, eyes glued to the floor, searching for anything unusual. He ended up near the west wall and stopped on a dirty, ripped-up rug. The floor beneath his feet creaked.
“Well, looks like we got some bad intel.” He emphasized the word as loud and clear as he could, then brought a finger to his lips and signed for the others to join him quietly. He continued his lie. “Stones, Malachus is going to be furious.”
As the other three made their way over to Chrys, he pointed to the floor, brushing aside the rug with his boot. Beneath it was a large trap door. He signed for the others to prepare themselves, and hoped that if anyone was listening from below, they would be thrown off by his words. Laz was smiling from ear to ear as they moved into position.
Chrys opened himself to threadlight, the veins in his arms and neck beginning to glow with Sapphire threadlight. Luther’s veins glowed with Emerald threadlight just before he pulled on the trapdoor. It ripped open, revealing a long ladder leading to a dark basement. Adrenaline pumped through Chrys’ veins as he prepared for anything, but nothing happened.
Laz dropped to a knee and opened his bag. He pulled out a torch, a bottle of alcohol, and a flint kit. Pouring the alcohol on the torch, he struck the flint on the steel of his axe. Sparks flew and the torch blazed to life. He tossed it down the hole into the basement. The echo of the torch hitting the ground reverberated back up through the trapdoor and a small pool of light lit the ground below.
Still nothing.
Laz bent down to get a better view and almost fell in the hole as Reina’s foot nudged his side. “Reina! Big men fall hard. Don’t be such a hole!”
Reina smiled on the verge of laughter. “Did you just call me a hole?”
“Yes. You are a hole.” Laz didn’t even turn to explain himself further. He continued looking down into the fire-lit basement.
“Looks empty, but we should be careful.” They all turned at the sound of Chrys’ voice. “Who’s first?”
Reina smirked. “Is the Apogee scared of the dark?”
“The Apogee is dead.”
She raised a brow.
Luther stood up and shook his arms out. “I’ll go first.”
The veins in his arms pulsed with bright green threadlight as he prepared to drop down the gap. He stepped forward and dropped down, threadlight blazing in his veins as he pulled on the floorboards above him to slow his descent. He landed with a slight thud and took a defensive position as he scouted the room. After a few moments, he gave them a thumbs up.
The other three dropped down the hole one by one into the dark basement. The fall took longer than Chrys had anticipated, the basement ceiling easily reaching two stories high with thick exposed trusses across its surface. Large crates and dusty furniture lined the outer rim of the massive room. A small tunnel barely visible in the dim light led around the far corner. Laz picked up his torch and held it out in front.
A strange sound echoed down the tunnel. Chrys turned to the others and whispered. “There is someone here. Laz, be careful with the torch, it’s the only light we…”
A gush of water splashed on Chrys as it poured over Laz. A sound like wind rushed past him before the light went out. Footsteps poured in from all sides. A small amount of light trickled in from the trapdoor in the ceiling, but by the time Chrys’ eyes adjusted he had three men tackling him down to the ground. A hard fist cracked into his ribs. He struggled to fight back, but there was no light, and he was pinned.
Three lanterns lit. A dozen men held down Chrys, Laz, and Luther as a gangly man with a tattoo on his neck approached. “High General Chrys Valerian. The Butcher of the Valley. The Apogee. I would have expected you to be taller. And older. I’m underwhelmed.”
Chrys stared at the man, scanning the room in his peripherals for anything he could threadweave, but there was nothing useful for him to push. “So am I. I want to speak to your boss.”
“I’m in charge.”
“Maybe so, but you’re not the boss.”
The man frowned. “I bet we can sell your blood for double, funny man.”
“No one on this rock would consider me a funny man,” Chrys said, shaking his head. “But I am smart. And you’re not. Minimum requirement for being the boss is knowing how to count.”
Reina Talfar, the Alirian Spider, dropped down from the ceiling, pulling on her corethread as she fell to accelerate the descent. She crashed down onto the confused leader, her boots connecting with his head as he crumbled below the force. Luther pulled on two large crates at the sides of the room and they flung toward the men pinning them down. As they flew through the air, Reina pulled against the wall and launched herself toward the nearest enemy. The Bloodthieves dove out of the way of the crates. Chrys and Laz pushed on the crates before they smashed into them, and Chrys saw a sadistic smile on Laz’s face as the melee began.
He felt the rush of warmth flow through his veins as he let more threadlight flow through him. Dim threads of light swirled throughout the world around him. It was dark, and his ability to see threadlight was connected to his ability to see real light. Threads linked him to the wall, to the crates, to the broken pieces of wood on the far side of the room. Finding the thread of the wall behind him, Chrys pushed, launching himself toward the Bloodthieves at an inhuman speed. His eyes blazed blue.
Mmmm. The Apogee awoke. There are too many of them. Let me out and I can help you. I can protect you.
Chrys ignored the voice. They needed to capture these men alive. To his left, he saw Luther bury a knife into the chest of an attacker, screaming with a savagery Chrys had never seen from his friend. The rage of losing his son to the priesthood. Stones, he shouldn’t have let Luther come. Laz took the kill as a suggestion and brought his axe down into the neck of another. So much for non-lethality. Keep one or two alive, that’s all we need.
Reina was a blur to his right, and Luther was now somewhere behind him.
Sliding the obsidian knife out of his pocket, Chrys rushed forward. When he’d let the Apogee take over during the War, people said he fought like a god or a demon. But Chrys had been trained his whole life, and he didn’t need the Apogee to win. Three men approached him and attacked without hesitation. He sprinted toward the first, sliding down at the last minute and burying his knife deep in thigh tissue, tearing as he slipped passed. He ripped it out, spun, and stabbed twice into the back of each of the man’s thighs. A knife flew through the air and caught the man in the chest. Chrys looked up and Reina nodded.
A boot connected with Chrys’ shoulder as he rolled away. He pushed off the ground, blue veins blazing, and brought his knee up into the second Bloodthief’s chest. An audible crack reverberated from the man’s ribs. The last Bloodthief, surprised by the quick defeat of his two comrades, found himself on his heels as Chrys leapt up onto his chest. His knees straddled the man’s shoulders as they fell down onto the stone floor. The familiar adrenaline of war coursed through his threadlight-infused veins. It felt good. The anger he’d let simmer inside boiled out, and he twisted the man’s neck until it popped.
Stones.
Mmmm.
The man with the broken rib rose to his feet and darted toward Chrys, but before he made it far, Laz’s axe buried itself into the man’s back from across the room, hitting him like a boulder.
Chrys surveyed the surrounding chaos. Seven dead, two in combat with Luther and Reina, one in the corner. The gangly leader was limping around the corner into the tunnel. Chrys rushed forward, intent to capture him alive. They’d already been careless enough as it was. He rounded the corner and found the man grappling a young girl by the neck with a knife at her back. She was chained to the wall. He met eyes with Chrys and smiled. Next to him lay another man, chained to the wall and pale as a winter moon.
Two thuds behind him signaled the fall of the last Bloodthieves.
“Move a muscle and the girl dies.” The tattooed man’s lip curled into a snarl as his free hand worked the locks on her chains. The heavy steel linking her to the wall fell to the ground leaving only her wrist bindings. The girl was blindfolded and gagged, dressed in dirt-stained clothing with her hands bound behind her back. It didn’t look like she’d been here long.
“No one else needs to die,” Chrys said with a warm tone.
The man smiled. “For once we agree. You’re going to let me walk right—“.
Before the man could finish his thought, the girl kicked her heel up into the man’s groin. In one smooth motion, she rolled forward, moving her bound hands in front of her and lifting the blindfold off her face. Her veins blazed a bright blue and the knife in the man’s hand blasted back into his own shoulder.
