Thick as Thieves (14 page)

As he scrutinized his surroundings through strands of shadow, Vorgell thought Baron Flemgu’s keep unimpressive. The flooring was cracked and the draperies badly hung, adding to the gloom—though some of the displayed goblets and treasures looked worth plundering. He was sorely tempted to pocket a few items but still dared hope there were better to be had. After a series of stairways and corridors, Madd pulled him through a door into a windowless room that looked like a storage pantry.

“Lean against the wall and spring your dragon,” Madd ordered. Whatever spell had kept him invisible fell away and there he was, black-haired and pretty, his hood pushed back as he dropped to his knees. The command, urgent and yet somehow still delicious, awakened a pounding lust Vorgell had no need to question.

If Madd wanted magic, Vorgell had no reason to deny him.

Shrugging open the cloak of shadows, he unbuttoned his trousers. Though a bit rosy and tender from frequent use, his cock remained eager. Vorgell had only to see the tilt of Madd’s head, his companion’s saucy grin, for lust to ignite his blood. He reached down to touch Madd’s hair, marveling at how the scant light in the room nonetheless danced across those midnight strands as he guided him near. Madd’s breath teased his sensitive foreskin, soon followed by a wet, coaxing tongue. Vorgell exhaled happily and gave himself over, his compliance rewarded by Madd’s firm, sucking mouth. He thanked his gods for providing such a pretty, and needy, companion. Savoring the sight of Madd bobbing up and down upon his shaft, Vorgell leaned back and curled his fingers over the edges of a cabinet front of polished wood. His cock was in the mouth of a master.

Pleasure mounted as he gasped for air and controlled his impatient thighs. It would be so easy to give in to his lust, to grab Madd and hold him down, and…. Hearing voices in the hall, he stiffened, uncertain if he should interrupt the young witch or plunge deep into his delectable throat. He did the latter, his balls swinging against Madd’s slick chin. When he came, it was a torrent and all he could do not to praise the gods loudly. Madd gulped every drop until, after what felt like minutes later, Vorgell watched his cock slip softly from between sated lips.

“That should do.”

He looked down to see Madd’s pink tongue sweeping flecks of come from around his mouth. It took all Vorgell’s strength to resist the urge to pick Madd up and carry him off in search of a proper bed. Sex generally left him wanting to snuggle.

“Are you sure you don’t need more?” Vorgell finally could speak between gasps.

“You can
do
that?”

“Well, the unicorn horn—”

“Only since then? Something tells me you were the terror of every mouth and ass on the Scurrian frontier.” Rising to his feet, Madd frowned at the door and listened. No voices disturbed the silence.

“What if someone sees you disarming the wards?”

Little as he knew of magic, Vorgell had listened closely when Madd had explained his plan. Wards were the reason they couldn’t travel into the castle the way they had traveled from the forest to Gurgh. No one warded Rattail Alley, but the baron’s castle was warded to the turrets.

“Keeping me from being discovered is where you come in, as I recall.”

The collar around Madd’s neck glinted in the filtered light, announcing its somber, if costly, presence. For once, Madd wasn’t taking pains to conceal it. If he were caught inside the castle, everyone would know him anyway. Vorgell hadn’t told him he liked the way the collar looked. The heavy gold was tooled and twisted and gave Madd the look of a Scurrian prince… save for the disturbing jewel that persisted on watching Vorgell like a serpent’s eye. And then Madd, collar and all, vanished.

Vorgell felt the brush of Madd’s fingers on his. Mindful of their invisibility, Vorgell wound a fold of shadow over their hands and then followed Madd’s tug. The door opened as if by itself and they exited again into the hallway. When they reached a place where the passage divided like a wishbone, Madd stopped and so did he. An immense, carved oaken beam supported a ceiling of patterned bronze. Beyond, Vorgell saw two corridors diverging around a circular chamber.

Madd’s fingers unwrapped from his. A word, dark and mysterious, spoken in Madd’s voice, expanded to fill the space around them. Vorgell’s skin crawled, reminding him why he disliked magic. He might well be immune to the stuff, but its touch remained unsettling. Hardly had the sound been spoken when its vibration seemed to awaken something in the beam overhead. What had looked like a common knot in the wood now glowed as if it bore a coal of blue fire within it. As Vorgell watched, energy cracked within the beam. When it flickered out, the knot was lightless, a black void.

He smiled, seeing the result of Madd’s magic and his. Perhaps, if Madd needed to defeat a great number of magical wards, the little witch would go another round with Vorgell’s cock. The prospect lightened his mood and his steps. Treading as lightly as he could, he followed Madd to the right, across a floor of polished woods inlaid with images of exotic beasts beset by men bearing swords and spears. He liked the design and heeded the omen. Beneath his cloak of shadows, he closed his hand around the hilt of his sword.

Madd stopped again before a door of oak carved and shaped with effigies of grave, princely men. The crowns on the images’ heads glinted with real gold, as did the great emblem on the door. Vorgell recognized the shape of a winged beast that had been the symbol of this land’s ruling family. Indeed, plinths standing at regular intervals along the corridor displayed equally impressive helms, clearly ancient and many gilded. His estimation of the castle’s plunder went up a notch.

No longer invisible, Madd looked nervous. He had said the unusual walls of the chamber would negate glamour, but that he would still be able to disarm the wards. While Madd sank to his knees and began to do whatever he needed to do with the door, Vorgell kept watch. He had heard little by way of sounds in the castle, which seemed strange to him, and he had seen no sign of occupation on the upper floors. Still, his instincts for trouble had always been sharp. Although Madd’s presence calmed him, everything else about this castle felt wrong. It didn’t help that what he remembered most about it was being dragged, trussed like an animal, into the great hall to be dumped at the baron’s feet.

Madd had told him that the defenses within might be triggered by voices, so he refrained from asking questions. Vorgell knew more about magic now than he had ever learned among the Scur, and he still knew next to nothing. The Scur had fearful, if smelly, shamans draped in skins and responsible mainly for issuing curses. The gruesome wasting death was a particular favorite and any warrior with an ounce of sense avoided the creatures. He had not thought much of his tribe’s shaman until the day the man had seized and skinned Leppa. Only then had he realized how sunk in magic his people were, and how willing to be ruled by superstition.

Only then had he realized that magic was as real as iron—and as deadly. He had vowed that day to slay magic wielders.

Then again, he had never seen a magic wielder like Madd. The young man kneeling before the door with his gentle face fixed in concentration, long lashes sweeping over his smooth, pale cheek, whispered words of power with the lips of a sated lover. Vorgell did not think Madd was a killer.

Blood rushed again to Vorgell’s groin, and his cock strained against his trouser front. This near constant state of arousal was far from enjoyable. If he had to do it over again, he would leave the unicorn to graze in peace and fill his belly with mushrooms and flowers. He closed his eyes for a moment, regaining firm rein on his senses. When he looked down at Madd again, the very hairs on his neck rose in alarm. Madd stared up at him, eyes wide with fear. Something was wrong.

A hellish whine split the air, slicing deep behind Vorgell’s eyeballs. Madd howled and clawed at his throat. Vorgell turned at an outbreak of noise just beyond the corridor, footsteps and shouts accompanied by the ringing of drawn steel.

The door from the chamber flew outward and hit Madd hard, sending him sprawling just as soldiers charged into the outer passageway and thundered toward them. In a flurry of gray cloth, a small cloaked figure burst from the chamber, tripped over Madd, then got up and kept running. A few soldiers took off after the fleeing person. The rest descended on the two men.

Unseen by dint of his cloak of shadows, Vorgell swung his sword, slicing open one opponent’s throat, and then plunged the blade to the haft into the breast of another before they even knew what was upon them. He grabbed two more men by the backs of their necks and slammed their heads together, breaking at least one man’s skull by the sound of it, so they dropped limply to the floor. But there were too many soldiers and they had encircled Madd, blades drawn to create a fence of steel.

“Over there!” One of the soldiers holding Madd pointed his blade to where Vorgell stood. Vorgell swore at realizing he was clearly visible. The hood of the cloak had slipped off his head in the fighting.

Madd shot him a look of hard terror. “Run!” he shouted.

Weaponless, Vorgell picked up one of the dead men’s swords.

“Run, you damn stupid oaf!”

Leave Madd behind? Never! Not while there was a chance…. Vorgell sliced into the first soldier to reach him. Desperately, he glanced back to Madd and saw a soldier’s mailed fist slam hard under Madd’s jaw and his friend drop to the ground. Even if he could still reach him, Vorgell could not fight and carry Madd at the same time… and more soldiers were coming.

Blocking a blow he saw just in time, Vorgell watched the sword fly from his hand. Damning his gods and useless magic alike, he took Madd’s advice and ran.

Behind him, he heard the charging boots of soldiers, roars of command, and a harsh, triumphant shout.

“Send word and send it quickly! Tell the baron we have his pretty witch boy!”

Chapter 11

V
ORGELL
raced down the center of the corridor as it curved. The damned hood of the cloak of shadows impeded his vision so he might as well be running in smoke, but he couldn’t afford to push it back to get his bearings. The heavy bootfalls of pursuing soldiers pounded at his back, farther away than before but still too close for him to the take the time to gather his wits. He had gotten used to having Madd be his wits, leaving him to deal with important things like understanding the layout of the castle. But his friend was already taken and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be next.

As he rounded the corner, he heard more commotion ahead. No soldiers yet, but something was coming. The tower’s center chamber still curved in a long line to his left. To his right, the castle wall butted at an angle against one of the vaulting arches forming the ceiling. The shadow on the other side afforded good hiding to a man wearing a magical cloak.

He had only to stand here, concealed by the cloak of shadows and wait.

A young woman wearing a gray cloak barreled around the corner, red boots flying as she ran. Black hair fell all around her face and shoulders as she turned to look behind her. Judging by the sound, soldiers were chasing her as well. Vorgell would have run right into them had he gone on. Instead, she was running his way and they were on her heels.

With only that thought, he reached out, wrapping his hand over her mouth. Throwing his other arm around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and pulled her hard against him. Her head came only to his midchest. Pressing her body and his to the wall, he released her waist and snapped his cloak over them both. “I’m wearing a cloak of shadows,” he said into her ear, keeping his hand over her mouth. “Make no sound and we might escape with our lives.” He caught just a glimmer as her eyes swiveled, trying to see him through the murk, but she nodded and ceased to struggle. He kept his hand in place as two soldiers thundered into view at the end of the hallway. From the opposite end, the soldiers who had been pursuing Vorgell shouted.

“Did you catch the man we were chasing?”

“’Twas no man! ’Twas a girl!”

“No, it was a man. Great big fellow.” The soldiers had met and now stood in the center of the hall, where the floor was inlaid with a full ivory moon set in a field of dark blue. “Didn’t catch good sight of him, but he ran this way. Looked like he could be that damned barbarian we snagged a while back.”

“Aw, hells. He tried to mount one of my boys, that one. I tell you, I’d know him, and what I’m hunting is half his size. Caught her trying to flee the tower and chased her back inside.”

“Probably a witch,” said the first soldier. His gruff voice lowered. “We caught the baron’s witch boy. Came back just like the baron said he would and looks like he brought friends. He’d want to get his hands on what’s in that vault.”

“A curse on ’em, then, if they used spells to give us the slip.”

Vorgell kept very still, and the tense girl barely breathed, as the soldiers looked around. Both men’s suspicious eyes probed every corner, passing over the one where the two fugitives stood. The first soldier turned back to his men.