Dallas slowly opened the door and peered down the corridor to his right. It was wide enough for Swift and Sweetie to walk side by side, but there would be no room left for him and Misty. He guessed six feet wide, or a little more.
The whitewashed adobe walls and white floor tiles reflected what little light penetrated this far into the building. He counted two closed doors, evenly spaced on the same side as him, which suggested rooms similar in size to the one where he waited with Nebar’s men, but the other side was bare of doors or windows.
The corridor ended past the second closed door with a blank wall. Light on the floor coming from the left suggested either a recessed open door or the corridor turned left.
He eased further out the door to check the corridor to his left. Again, no doors on the opposite side and only one closed door on the same side as his door. At the end the corridor turned right. He guessed he was at the back of a square wing and the corridor would meet on the far side. Hopefully it also led to the main area and the mage.
Dim light reflected off the floor tiles, highlighting footprints surrounded by dust at the end of the corridor, but no guards waited. Not even shadows of guards waiting around the corner.
The unswept floor also suggested either the slaves were all dead, or had fled when the mages first attacked Idion and his family, because the one time he was inside the building there was not a spot of dust anywhere.
He breathed in slightly cooler air in the corridor while he listened for footsteps.
With the humidity and heat in south Mireland it seemed reasonable not to add to the heat by using candles or torches, but he thought the place would be cooler if the doors and windows were open to let the air circulate.
Behind him, one of Nebar’s men whispered, “He has to be a mage. He only touched that male before he dropped! Dead! Looked like no force at all.”
Dallas realised Nebar’s men were talking about his releasing ichur from his staff.
He knew they could not see the silvery glow, but they were observant. They understood killing, and the correct amount of force required to kill or stun. He should have thought about witnesses when he stopped the male entering the room. He should have used a knife.
It was a timely reminder he was watched, by Nebar’s men. He needed to be careful when killing the mage and his invaders, at least careful enough to make it look like Swift and Sweetie controlled the mages. Not him! Never him!
Not if he wanted to continue his quiet rebellion against the councillors.
He closed the door and turned to check the waiting men.
“What is our plan? Kill Mage Crompton? Kill Mage Vince? If he is here!” Misty patted Sweetie’s neck, but watched Dallas.
“I guess we need to locate your mages and force both outside, so Mage Stantworth can deal with them. If the mage gets here by the time we force the mages outside.”
“Fine by me!” She smiled. “But, I hope I run into Mage Crompton before anyone else.”
Dallas noted the unsaid words. Misty wanted to kill Mage Crompton.
Swift bumped his back, to get his attention. She sent an image of her and Sweetie standing next to both mages, but the image of the men included black cloaks with the hoods pulled forward so their faces were in darkness.
“Swift suggests we leave the mages to her and Sweetie, once we find them.” Dallas smiled at Misty.
She nodded.
Nebar walked through the rear opening and hurried between the now empty tables. “I lead!”
“Fine by me!” Misty slipped her blood stained, long knife back into the leather strap hanging from her belt.
“Swift and I need to go first, so she can follow the scent of the mage when he left this room.” Dallas gripped Swift’s halter and eased her forward enough to swing the door fully open.
Swift turned left as soon as she walked into the corridor, her hoofs clopping loudly on the tiles. Dallas walked beside her.
Sweetie walked thought the door next, sniffed the floor tiles and turned right.
“Stop!” Dallas tried to whisper but his voice echoed off the corridor walls. “Swift?”
Swift sent an image of a faceless man walking down the corridor to the left. Dallas understood that the faceless male represented the owner of the ichur trail.
“Sweetie?” Dallas frowned at the suggestion two mages tortured the slaves.
He received an image from Sweetie of many tracks leading to the right.
“I guess there were two or more mages visiting this room. Break into two groups?”
Nebar nodded. “One archer in each group.” He walked around Sweetie, sword raised, and took the lead.
“Let Sweetie go first. She will remove any spells.” Misty looked back at Dallas. “If I ask, she will remove spells?”
“Yes.” Dallas nodded to the waiting archer and three determined males with swords in hand. “If Swift stops, you stop as well.” He was not happy Misty and Sweetie disappeared down the side corridor, but realised it was better to let the horses lead the way through the building. “Do you know the layout of this building?”
The archer kept pace with Dallas as he followed Swift. “Ask the first slave we meet for directions.”
Dallas checked the door handle of the next door on his left. A faint silver glow surrounded the handle, but not around the door. “Swift? Please check for spells.”
Swift almost touched the handle with her nose, held her head still for three seconds, then backed away from the door.
The silver glow had disappeared.
Dallas opened the door. Another room like the last, but this one did not hold any torture tables.
Six female slaves waited in the first cell, three male slaves in the middle cell and at least ten children with shaved heads huddled together in the third.
The archer swung his drawn bow from side to side, looking for anyone to target. No one waited outside the three cells, so he released the tension on his bow string and lowered the bow, still holding the arrow and bow in his left hand.
“Arch, try to open the first cell. If it is spelled, I will call Swift into the room.” The barrel chested Hedgehill guard unbolted the first cell and pushed the door open. He unlocked to the second and third, before the slaves in the first cell reacted.
“I want to find the mage who locked you in here, so can one of you show me the way out of this wing?” Dallas waited but none of the slaves spoke. “Follow us, or escape any other way you know. If you get outside, please keep well back and wait for Mage Stantworth and Bren to land.”
One naked female walked forward with her shaved head lowered. She was tall and slender, but every muscle was well defined. Wiry was a word that came to mind.
If she was not a slave he could imagine her training with a staff along side him, which would explain the muscle definition. Then he noticed the pale bands of skin on each sun browned toe. It reminded him of Idion’s female slaves who wore rings on their toes.
She could be one of them. “Are you one of Idion’s female guards?”
The female waited with her head lowered, but she tensed her body.
He realised she needed permission to speak. “I give you permission to speak.” He looked at the rest of the waiting slaves. “And the rest of you can talk as much as you want, only quietly. Tell every other slave and help them to get out of here as quietly as possible.”
“There are two mages in the main reception room waiting for an assassin and a tracker horse.” The female held her hands clasped in front of her, but kept her eyes on the floor.
Misty! They were waiting for Misty! “We need to keep moving.” Dallas hurried back into the corridor and stopped next to Swift. “Can you talk to Sweetie from here?”
Swift sent an image of Misty and Sweetie walking down a well lit corridor. Then she added Nebar walking next to Misty.
“Good. Tell Sweetie to be careful because Mage Vince is waiting in reception for her.”
The female slave followed Dallas out of the room and smiled at Swift. She reached out and patted the mare’s neck before she realised what she had done and quickly dropped her head and lowered her hand.
“We need to find clothes for you.” Dallas strode down the corridor, looking for another room where he might locate a robe for the slave.
Swift and the female followed.
Arch, and the other three Hedgehill men caught up before the corridor turned right.
Dallas walked level with Swift’s front legs, so Swift looked down the right hand turn in the corridor seconds before Dallas.
Swift stopped and her ears flattened for a moment, before she pricked her ears forward again.
It was a warning! Dallas raised his staff vertically in front of his left shoulder before he took another step. He had a clear view down the corridor, the same width as the one he was in.
Two tall thin males, both dressed in light weight cream vests and loose fitting trousers, waited next to an open door. They held raised swords, ready to stop Dallas and Swift from moving any further down the corridor. A third shorter, thickset male, with sword in hand, walked out of the opened doorway and took a position next to the first two men.
“Arch!” Dallas turned his left wrist, moving his staff from upright to horizontal, and straightened his arm. He took another step forward.
He watched the males for eye movement, which usually occurred before an attack.
Soft footsteps behind warned him Arch approached. He stopped next to Dallas, sword lowered, but ready to defend.
“Don’t crowd me, but take the one on the right if you get a chance.”
The male closest to the door glanced at his sword before he raised it and charged. The other two moved seconds later, but Dallas only took a step to his left and waited.
He heard shuffling footsteps behind Swift, and hoped the female slave had enough sense to move further back away from the fighting.
The thickset male came within range, his sword raised ready to swing down on Dallas’ staff.
Dallas pulled his knife out of the leather pouch attached to his belt with his right hand seconds before he took a step forward and raised his staff.
The staff connected with the male’s sword arm, just above his elbow. He pushed his staff up so the thickset male could not lower his sword arm, and plunged his knife into the male’s chest. For good measure, in case he missed vital organs, Dallas released a small amount of ichur, sending it directly to the male’s heart.
When the male realised he could not lower his arm, he gripped the staff with his free hand. By then the released ichur travelled up his sword arm and across his chest to his heart. A stunned look crossed the thickset male’s face and he looked down at his chest.
Dallas twisted his staff out from under the male’s arm and pulled his knife free, then stepped back one pace before the attacker sank to the ground.
Even though it only took seconds to dispatch the first male, the second almost stabbed Dallas before he spun his staff and slammed the side of the second tall thin male’s arm. He heard the snap as the forearm bones broke.
The male dropped his sword and gripped his arm. Dallas swung the staff back and connected with the side of the male’s head. Hard! But one handed swings did not have the same force as using two hands.
There was no time for finesse. He released another small amount of ichur and imagined it racing towards the second attacker’s heart, as he stepped back and focused on the third attacker.
A quick glance back showed Swift blocked most of Nebar’s men’s view. He hoped it was enough to stop speculation on how both attackers died. He tried to slow his pounding heart while he watched Arch fight off the third attacker.
Arch lunged forward and cut the third attacker on his forearm as he raised his sword for a downwards swing. Arch stepped back, but kept his sword raised. The metal blades clanged as they met.
Arch held firm as the attacker tried to force his blade down. The blades scraped together as the attacker pulled back.
When the blades parted the attacker stepped back again.
Arch took advantage of the male retreating and lunged forward. He cut a wide slash across the male’s chest.
The male bought his sword up to stop Arch’s sword cutting deeper.
Arch pulled back.
The male stepped forward, thinking Arch was retreating, but Arch lunged forward again. The attacker walked into the tip of Arch’s sword.
When Arch pulled his sword out of the male’s chest the male fell. His sword clanged as it hit the tiles, but the attacker held on.
Arch stepped forward and put his left foot on the flat of the blade, just below the finger guard, and breathing heavily, waited in case the downed male continued to fight.
Dallas saw the black boot of another person step through the open door the first three used. “Finish him off,” he ordered Arch.
He moved forward, away from the downed men because he needed room to swing his staff at the new arrival and did not want to trip over bodies.
A tall thin male, dressed in black, with dark hair, and a long nose, turned to look at Dallas. A smirk spread across his face.
Dallas felt he had seen the man before. He remembered. The male in front of him was Mage Crompton, minus his black hooded cloak.
Mage Crompton raised his right hand. A silvery ball of ichur formed. He could clearly see brown tinges in the silvery residue as the magic ball continued to grow. It stopped growing when it filled the mage’s palm.
Dallas realised he had no choice but to use ichur to stop the mage before he threw his ball of ichur at Dallas and Arch, but he puzzled over the brown tinge. It was the same shade as the spell Mage Stantworth used to control the female mage that had been with the slavers. A controlling spell?
Next second, his mind filled with an image of Mage Crompton’s head in Swift’s mouth, before he heard Swift’s hoofs on the tiled floor as she trotted forward.
The male on the ground tried to pull his sword away from Arch’s foot. Arch regained his footing, but the sword tip rose to knee height.
The wounded male leapt up as he lunged towards Arch. The sword reached Arch’s side.
Arch swore and leapt back.
The male on the ground twisted his sword sideways as he struggled to stand. He was close to hamstringing Swift as she trotted forward.
“Swift, beware the sword!” Dallas took his eyes off the new arrival to help Arch. He took two steps across the corridor and slammed the top of his staff down on the male’s head. The sound of cracking skull bones stunned everyone, except Mage Crompton who continued to grow his ichur ball.
The male with the cracked skull released his sword. The blade landed on the tiles and bounced.
Swift leapt over the downed male and skidded to a stop in front of the mage.
Dallas bought his staff back to ready position, close to his body. He moved across to the left side of the corridor again, to see around Swift body.
Swift rose on her hind legs, until her head almost touched the ceiling, before she dropped her front legs down on the mage’s chest.
The mage fell to the ground, his ball of brown tinged ichur gone.
Dallas assumed Swift returned it to the ground. He eased up beside Swift and patted her shoulder. “Easy, girl!”
The mage, sprawled on the tiles, still breathed, but his features blurred and changed. He was not the tall thin mage any more. He wore the face of the cruel overseer that took pleasure in using his leather strap to punish Idion’s slaves. Only now, his strap was missing.
Dallas stared at him, puzzling over how he created an ichur ball when Dallas knew he was not a mage. It had to be an illusion created by one of the mages he was looking for.
The overseer struggled to breathe while he held his chest where Swift had struck him. He only succeeded in panting.
Dallas guessed the kick broke his ribs.
Footsteps behind the overseer slid to a stop. Misty suddenly stood behind the overseer, bloody long knife in one hand and a throwing star in the other. “Allow me.”
Dallas glanced past her and saw Sweetie, Nebar and the other men at the corner.
She stabbed the downed overseer in the heart.
Swift tried to stomp on his head again, but Dallas pushed the mare’s chest, forcing her back. “Enough! He is already dead!”
Misty sprang back and frowned at Swift.
Swift sent an image of pounding the overseer’s body to bloody mush with her front hoofs.
“I did not like him either, but no need to make the floor any messier than it already is.” Dallas patted Swift’s chest again. “We have to keep moving.”
“This way.” Misty pointed down the corridor to the corner where Sweetie and Nebar waited, his men close behind them. She finally noticed the naked slave waiting behind Arch and the rest of Nebar’s men. “You need to find some clothes.”
Dallas noticed the look of satisfaction on the female slave’s face. “He will not be striking any of you again.”
The slave kicked the dead overseer before she placed one bare foot on his chest and stepped over him. “You must turn left at the next corner.”
Misty led the way left, with Sweetie right behind her. Nebar and his men followed, then Dallas and Swift led the rest of the Hedgehill men towards the main section of the building.
Misty turned to say something to either Nebar or Dallas, but paused, one foot off the ground, her head turned back towards Dallas.
“Misty!” Dallas pushed through the Hedgehill men towards Misty, who had not moved since she turned her head towards him.
She was caught in a spell.