Annev stepped through the doorway, oblivious of the portal sliding shut behind him until he was plunged into darkness. With a trembling hand, he drew the phoenix lantern from his cloak, placed it between his knees, and twisted it on, casting a beam of light down the corridor. Nearly forty feet ahead, just where the hallway began to bend, he saw the tatters of Narach’s grey nightshirt, the frail frame beneath splintered and torn apart.
As Annev drew closer, he caught the scent of fresh blood and faeces. Instead of turning away, he forced himself to look at Narach, to study his body and learn from it. He knelt down beside the corpse, briefly wondering what sign of respect he could offer. There was nothing with which to cover him – not unless Annev wanted to take off his cloak, and he needed it more than the dead man did. In the end, Annev made the sign of Odar and offered a silent prayer for Narach’s spirit. He collected the fallen keys, then took up the phoenix lantern.
This is how Cenif the mule was killed, he thought, recalling the grisly scene he and Crag had found in the forest. Annev shook his head, distraught by evidence that the feurog really had come to Chaenbalu. Metal. Twisted. Horrible. Carbad had used those very words to describe the demons that were attacking the Academy.
But the feurog weren’t demons, not truly. They were tortured souls, pitiable humans with metal and stone grafted into their bodies, who had been forced to serve Kelga, the wood-witch.
But she’s dead, Annev thought, so who drove them to attack the village … and how did they get past the circle of protection? Annev remembered the female feurog he had saved in the Brake – the one with the crushed windpipe – and began to tremble. Did I cause this? Did I save one tortured soul’s life at the cost of hundreds of others? Only a day and a half had passed since then. Could she have followed him, and brought others with her …?
Annev shook his head. He could drive himself mad thinking about it, when he should be protecting those he loved, Sodar and Myjun in particular.
A terrible screeching echoed down from the top of the stairs and was soon followed by the din of clanging metal.
Annev forced himself up the steps, his blood pumping in his ears. Halfway up, he pocketed the lantern so he could unsheathe his flamberge. He lamented losing his light, yet as soon as the symmetrically sinuous, two-and-a-half-foot blade cleared its sheath, the wavy metal burst into blue-white flames. Annev jerked the sword away from his face, surprised, then raised the burning sword above his head like a torch.
A flame-blade! What other surprises did I pick up in that Vault?
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. As he ran up the spiralling stairs, his feet churned beneath him, the brown boots blurring, propelling him up first two, then three steps at a time. All the while, his feet felt light, as if he were running downhill instead of up a steep flight of steps.
Annev reached the top of the stairwell and found a locked door. He set the sword down, grimacing as its flames died, and fished for the ring of keys in his pocket. Once the door was unlocked, he fumbled for the sword and rejoiced when its flames returned.
I’d still prefer Mercy, he thought, but I could get used to this. At the same time, he was irritated that he’d been unable to summon the sword’s magic the first time he had picked it up. Why had the artifact worked in the stairwell but not in the Vault?
Annev shouldered the door open a few inches and saw he’d returned to the floor with the archives. He widened the gap enough to slide himself through, then caught sight of the battle taking place at the other end of the corridor.
Of the six other doors lining the hallway, two had been torn from their hinges. A single feurog lay dead and Brayan was standing his ground, using a heavy war hammer to hold off a pair of twisted monsters that clawed to reach him through the doorway of one of the archive rooms.
Annev ran to his defence, his red cloak flapping behind him. As he drew close, the nearest feurog spotted him, turned around, and slashed out with its long, iron-tipped fingers. Annev parried, slicing the feurog’s wrist, then stabbed with his flamberge. The fire-limned blade slid into the monster’s unprotected chest and it howled in pain, futilely scratching at the sword’s forte and fuller in an attempt to wrench itself free. The flames along the sword flared, and a heartbeat later the creature dropped to its knees, eyes vacant and lifeless.
Annev yanked the flamberge free, his eyes already tracking the second feurog. Unlike the first, it stood upright, was dressed, and carried a rust-spotted broadsword. Despite these human affectations, the feurog’s face and crown were still plated with steel, and its bare chest revealed the inhuman protrusions of mineral-hardened ribs.
The feurog stepped back from the door, turning towards Annev as its companion fell. Seeing his chance, Brayan swung his war hammer at the creature’s head and the metal crown caved in under the force of the impact. Blood spurted from the feurog’s eyes and mouth and the beast dropped to the ground, limp and lifeless. Brayan stepped forward, hammer still raised.
‘You brought these demons to Chaenbalu,’ Brayan rumbled in his deep bass voice. He took another step towards Annev, hefting the weapon in his hands. Annev tightened his grip on his sword and lifted his small shield in front of him.
‘I’m not your enemy, Master Brayan. I have caused you no harm, and I did not bring these monsters here.’ He hoped the last part was true.
Brayan kicked the feurog Annev had stabbed, but didn’t lower his hammer. ‘Where are Masters Kenton and Narach? And Elder Tosan?’
‘Narach is dead – the feurog killed him. I believe Kenton is alive. I haven’t seen Tosan since he left the Vault.’
Brayan’s eyes narrowed. ‘You escaped your cell and stole artifacts from the Vault of Damnation, exactly as a Son of Keos would.’ It was not a question.
‘I’m no Son of Keos, and I’ve come to defend the Academy alongside you.’
Brayan gritted his teeth, his beard bristling with sweat. ‘Fine. You can fight, but you will answer for your crimes once everyone is safe.’ He lowered his maul. ‘And don’t try any tricks or I’ll bash your brains in. Understood?’
Annev nodded, peering into the archival room behind Brayan. ‘Is Titus in there with you?’