Cade tried to get a look at his former mentor, but Hugh grabbed the back of his neck and forced him to stay in place. Cade could feel the man’s cold fingers dig into his skin like a steel trap.
Of all the cities for this bastard to slink into, it had to be here. Images flashed in Cade’s mind.
That dark vault.
His boss, mentor, and friend betraying all that they had built.
Cade never wanted to see this man again, and yet here he was, colder than ever. He caught a glimpse of his former teacher and was startled to see that he was almost exactly as Cade remembered.
He was tall, with piercing eyes and an air of quiet authority. In his free hand, he held a crystal chalice filled with a dark red wine. He swirled it like he had all the time in the world while he held Cade captive.
“Hugh,” Cade said, his voice barely a whisper. “How did you find us?”
Hugh’s grip on his neck tightened. If his actions weren’t enough to prove to Cade that he meant less than nothing to the old man, his words did the trick.
“You know, I really did think you were smarter than this, boy. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you might’ve listened to one fecking thing I said. But no. You have no discipline, no survival instincts. You know, I could’ve killed you ten times already? Of course you didn’t. You’re a pup who thinks himself a wolf.”
“Then why haven’t you?” Cade demanded. “Why haven’t you killed me already? If I’m that much of a disappointment?”
Hugh grunted, his grip as tight as ever.
“You know what pups are great for?” Hugh mused, and Cade could hear the wicked sneer in his tone. “Distractions, lad.”
“Best part is that they’re expendable too,” Fenwick added from where he leaned against the railing of the balcony.
Cade felt a surge of anger, but he forced himself to remain calm. “What do you want, Hugh?”
Hugh’s gaze dug into him.
With a bark of laughter, Hugh shoved Cade forward and then casually lifted a tall glass of wine so red it looked like blood. He took a long pull, but his eyes never left Cade’s. That gods-damned tattoo of broken manacles seemed to glow in the dim light along Hugh’s neck.
When he had drained his cup, his lips were stained with the crimson liquid. In the warm glow of the torches and candles, Hugh was the spitting image of a vengeful spirit returned from the dead.
“What do I want?” the man asked. “What I’m owed, Stormhollow. I’ve come to take what’s mine.” Hugh stepped closer to Cade, and the young thief strained his neck to maintain eye contact. “And nothing—nothing—is going to stand in my way this time.”
He took another sip, then handed his glass to Fenwick as he turned to leave.
Then, over his shoulder, he called out one last time. “Let’s see if you were paying attention, boy. Enjoy the ball.”
Fenwick gave him a parting sneer but followed like a chick behind its hen.
Cade’s eyes narrowed. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Hugh and Fenwick melted back into the crowd, leaving Cade standing there. His mind raced. Cade’s fingers trembled as the panic and coldness he felt at seeing Hugh flushed through his system.
He needed a drink.
Orro approached, eyes as dark as the shadows he loved. When he took in Cade’s state, his expression darkened further. “You okay?”
“Hugh’s here.” In the span of a single breath, Orro went from alert to murderous.
His head went on a swivel while his hands reached into his cloak for a pair of knives. Cade wanted to let him hunt their old boss. He wanted to rid himself of this nightmare, but he knew that would only lead to their deaths, and not just because Hugh had more aces up his sleeve than cards in a deck.
They needed to get out of here, and then they could deal with that bastard.
“C’mon, Orro.” Cade placed a gentle yet firm hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
The assassin turned on him, and Cade resisted the urge to recoil. Hate—stronger than Cade had ever witnessed inside anyone, much less his lifelong ally—burned inside the assassin’s eyes like the fury of a scorned god. It was both frigidly cold and viciously hot all at once, and Cade was amazed his hand on Orro’s shoulder didn’t burn up in the proximity of such raw and unfettered hate.
“He’ll pay, Cade.” Orro barely moved a muscle when he said it, and Cade knew it was taking all of his self-control not to go on a rampage then and there.
“Yes,” Cade said, as gently as he could manage, given his own discordant emotions. “He’ll pay. But first, let’s solve this ridiculous puzzle and get out of this orgy just waiting to happen.”
“There’s a puzzle?” Orro asked while he tilted his head in confusion.
“I love that the puzzle part is what you focused on in that statement, but yes. Let’s get the others, and I’ll explain.” Cade let go of Orro’s shoulder and gestured for the assassin to walk with him.
In minutes, they regrouped at the grand staircase, and Cade felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The ballroom around them was a swirl of color and sound, and the thrum of hundreds of people as they milled about the large hall threatened to overwhelm his senses.
Hugh was here.
Worse yet, he had entered the tournament as well.
“Cade? You okay?” Rayka asked softly.
Cade took a deep breath but nodded, gingerly rubbing the back of his neck. He gave his sister a brittle smile and refocused on the present. He would tell them about Hugh later. Right now, they needed to get out of here.
He cleared his throat and addressed the team. “Okay, we’ve been given a riddle.”
With a brief pause to recall what he could, he did his best to recite the riddle in full—and by the gods, he hoped he could remember the whole thing.
“To grasp the Baron’s veiled design,
Listen where the murmurs align.
Breezes whisper through twilight’s gate,
Before his toast, unveil your fate.
Truth or darkness, fate will seal,
As whispers in the night reveal.”
Elena frowned. “Whispers? Like rumors? Or secrets?”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Probably, but that feels too easy,” Cade said. “Let’s start with a bit of gossip. We need to find out what people are saying about the Baron. Start there, but keep in mind that this is probably going to get messy quickly.”
Cade rolled out his shoulders and told them the plan. “This is an information-gathering and espionage job, plain and simple. Everyone, play up your strengths. Gavin, talk to the ladies. Nora and Evie, see if you can find some military personnel who might open up to you. Jer, Rayka, Elena, talk to the staff. You know that they’re the best source for gossip in places like this. Take Bunny with you, since he’s a little heartbreaker. They won’t be able to resist you, will they buddy?” Cade asked his little dragonling.
The dragon purred and hopped off his shoulder and landed on Jer’s.
“Alright,” Cade said, refocusing. “Last but not least—Orro, keep an eye out for the other contestants. We haven’t run into them yet, and I want to keep it that way. Run interference if you need to.”
Cade heard Hugh’s words play in his mind again.
“You know what pups are great for?” The words echoed in his mind. “Distractions, lad.”
“What did I miss?” he asked himself, his voice too quiet for anyone else to hear. “And how am I the distraction?”
He couldn’t let himself play into Hugh’s hands.
Rayka’s eyes lit up. “I heard some nice elf ladies talking about a mean sorcerer causing havoc on the borders of this province. Maybe that’s related?”
“Good start,” Cade answered. “The second you hear something notable, come find me. Our telepathic link is blocked for some reason. Gavin, any idea why?”
Their handsome comrade shrugged in defeat.
“Not sure,” Gavin replied while he rubbed the back of his neck. “Given the location we’ve been tossed into, my best guess is that our host has some of the typical anti-telepathy runes set into the stones. It’s pretty standard practice for the elite, but it’s annoying as all hells.”
“It’s fine. But we’ll need all of your charm, then. See if you can find anything about the Baron’s intent. That line feels extra important.” Cade clapped his hands and gave them a forced smile. “Let’s get out there and not die.”
His team melded with the meandering crowd, and his chest swelled with a bit of pride at seeing them work.
Cade couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was about to happen. The tension in the air was nearly palpable as he took in the throng of individuals unaware of the doom that loomed over all of them. He remembered the rumors about this tournament. Death would carry them out of this arena if they weren’t careful.
And quick.
With every step he took, he knew with greater and greater surety that he was missing something. The ballroom’s opulence seemed to mock the urgency of their mission, the laughter and music a stark contrast to the deadly game they were playing. Cade scanned the room, his mind racing with possibilities.
The Baron’s veiled design. The whispers. The truth.
“Now… how do we not die in here?” he whispered to himself.
Servants glided through the crowd, their smiles unnervingly constant as they offered trays of drinks and plates of delicacies. Despite his hunger and thirst, Cade avoided the tables piled high with richly colored foods.
He needed to focus. His mind rehearsed the poetic riddle over and over in his head while he watched the passersby.
“Sir, a drink?” a servant asked suddenly, and he nearly jumped out of his boots.
Her pale blue eyes were oddly wide and desperate even as her unnatural smile stretched further.
“No, thank you,” Cade replied, moving past her.
Another servant intercepted him, this one a tall man with a tray of wine glasses.
“Please, sir, just a sip. You must be parched,” he intoned with just a bit too much forced cheer.
Cade shook his head, more forcefully this time. “I said no.”
The lanky man stepped into the young thief’s path. The servant’s smile didn’t falter, but tears began to stream down his face, glistening in the ballroom’s soft light.
“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You must.”
“Alright,” Cade answered cautiously.
The tight cord of muscles in the servant’s neck loosened noticeably as Cade reached up and grabbed a crystalline chalice from the large serving plate. With a nod, Cade pushed past the servant even as a chill ran down his spine.
When he was behind a few more guests, he poured the sparkling liquid into a drunk gentleman’s ruby-encrusted goblet but held onto the emptied cup. The stranger nodded his thanks and gulped down the expensive liquor like it was water and he had just exited a desert.
Cade shook his head and moved on, scanning the crowd as he sought familiar faces. His heart settled a little when he spotted none other than Lord Harken leaning deeply into his velvet chair.
The thief placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, but Harken slumped forward awkwardly. Confusion turned to horror as Cade turned him over only to be greeted by lifeless eyes with drying blood around their rims and across the man’s cheeks.
“Damn it,” Cade muttered, his panic rising.
He looked around and saw more and more guests slumped in their seats or on the floor. A few had their faces set against the white linen tablecloths, and he could now see the spreading stain of red across their surfaces. He cursed again while his mind raced for answers.
“Is this one of the teams?” He forced himself to consider.
There was nothing in that damned riddle about poisons or assassinations, but as he looked, he could see that both guest and contestants were lying dead around the increasingly quiet room.
He was running out of time.
Uncertainty began to creep into the back of his mind. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t equipped or qualified to deal with this situation. Hugh had always navigated the murky waters.
He was a leader. Cade was just…
A sudden crash echoed through the ballroom, drawing Cade’s attention to a group of contestants standing defiantly amidst the chaos. One team, comprised of burly mercenaries covered in scars and furs, had overturned a table and were shouting at the top of their lungs.
Their leader, a hulking man with a jagged cut running down his cheek, brandished a sword and roared, “We’re not dying here like rats in a cage for your fecking game! Fight us, you cowards! We’ll kill the lot of ya and take that prize for ourselves!”
The men around this outspoken idiot roared their approval, and Cade watched as the mercenaries fanned out, their faces twisted with fear and determination.
It was so quick.
One moment, the girl who offered Cade a drink stood at attention. The next, her blood coated the berserker’s axe as the rest of the girl painted the wall behind her. Someone from across the expansive room screamed, and all hell broke loose.
Some charged at the servants, who desperately tried to maintain their eerie composure while fighting back with unexpected ferocity. Spells clogged the air. Weapons clashed against each other.
More contestants rose and took up the fight. The shouts of combatants filled the air, a cacophony of flesh and bone against blade that threatened to overwhelm Cade’s senses. Plates shattered, silverware clattered to the floor, and the war cries mingled with the gurgling wails of dying guests.
Death had arrived at the banquet after all.
Cade watched from across the ballroom as the towering mercenary swung his massive battle axe, cleaving a path through yet another group of servants. His eyes blazed with fury, each swing of his weapon sending sprays of blood across the polished marble floor.
Nearby, another contestant hurled a chair, the wooden legs splintering against a gnome’s head. The eerie, fixed smiles of the servants twisted into grimaces of pain and rage as they fought back with concealed daggers and spells.
Across the room, a team of wood elves in opulent finery were experiencing their own descent into madness. Their leader, a tall elf with golden hair and a regal demeanor, convulsed and collapsed, the poison taking its deadly toll. The sight shattered their aloof composure.
“No! Lord Thalion! Please! Don’t close your eyes! Please!” one of the wood elves screamed, her voice breaking with despair.
Another elf, his eyes wild with rage, began to weave their hands in complex patterns even as thick trains of tears streaked across his face. Vines and roots erupted from the floor, wrapping around the feet of anyone nearby and dragging them down.
“We’ll tear this place apart before we let you kill us!” he shouted. “You won’t take him! Not like this!”
The ballroom transformed into a battlefield.
Servants, now exposed as combatants, fought back with a viciousness that reminded Cade of cornered animals. One contestant conjured a wall of fire, attempting to hold off the advances of a team of massacring humans, but a swift blow from a mercenary’s hammer shattered his concentration, and the flames flickered out.
Another servant—a silver-haired elf with a perpetual smile—lashed out with twin daggers, her movements quick and deadly, but she was soon overwhelmed by a barrage of arrows from the wood elves.
Cade’s heart pounded as he took in the scene. Magic clashed with steel, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of blood and burnt ozone.
He felt a strange sensation within him, as if his fledgling core writhed just beneath his skin. It was just like in that accursed room beneath the earth with Scorn’s cronies.
The air around him began to stir, and he thought he saw sparks flickering across his sleeves. He shoved the sensation down, focusing instead on the key to their survival. It wasn’t this useless fight. It was in that riddle.
But then he spotted Jer and Rayka stumbling near the edge of the dance floor, and all thoughts of caution evaporated. Cade’s stomach churned, and it was like lead filled his lungs.
Rayka stumbled and dropped to all fours even as Jer attempted to pick her up. She coughed and blood flooded from out between her lips. She looked up, and Cade knew he was already too late.
They were all going to die.
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