The Outcast (Summoner #4)(84)

They turned onto the new floor. Arcturus was filled with blessed relief when they passed into the confines of the corridor, away from the next row of waiting crossbowmen. This time, almost all the doors were closed.

“Is it this one?” Ulfr asked, and Arcturus was forced to pull back his hood to see the dwarf pointing at a steel-braced door.

Arcturus took a deep sniff and nodded.

“Sergeant Caulder too,” he whispered.

“What’s the plan?” Prince Harold asked.

“I was kind of hoping you’d have one,” Arcturus replied.

“Crossbows,” Ulfr said. “Crossbows and confidence.”

Then he kicked open the door.

Inside was a small, dark chamber, almost no larger than the storage room Arcturus had been kept in. There was a single source of light—a flickering candle on a low table, illuminating a row of gleaming implements on a red cloth beside it.

There were the dim shapes of two men in the room, standing on either side of a third man, tied to a chair. Arcturus aimed at the man closest to him, and Harold did the same.

“Took you … long … enough,” the third man gasped.

It was Sergeant Caulder. His face was a mess of yellow-tinged bruising, and his chin was crusted with red from where his lip had been split. The fingernails on his hands were gone, and Arcturus tried not to look at the pair of cruel metal pliers clutched in the torturers’ hands.

Crawley was one of them, while the other was a hunchbacked old man with a scraggly beard and a toothless mouth.

“Step away from him,” Prince Harold barked, jerking the crossbow.

“You…,” Crawley said, staring at the three of them.

“You’ll be quiet, or I’ll put this through your head,” Arcturus growled, with as much confidence as he could muster.

Ulfr hurried forward and sawed at the sergeant’s bonds, where his arms, legs and neck had been tied to the high-backed chair.

“I should have known,” Crawley hissed, staring down at the dwarf with venom in his eyes.

Ulfr glanced up at him, then struck Crawley between the legs with a clenched fist. The steward fell to his knees, clutching himself.

“Always wanted to do that,” Ulfr said cheerfully.

Sergeant Caulder stood shakily, and gave Crawley a kick in the ribs for good measure.

“Careful, we need him,” Arcturus said, wincing as the steward keeled over with a grunt.

“Do we need him?” Sergeant Caulder asked, nodding to the other torturer.

“No,” Prince Harold said.

“Good,” Sergeant Caulder said. “Kill him.”

“Wait…,” the torturer began. Prince Harold’s crossbow juddered and then the man was kicking and twitching his way to hell.

“He … he deserved it,” Prince Harold muttered, staring in horror at the dying man. Arcturus recognized the doubt and self-disgust in the boy’s voice. A moment later, the prince was emptying the contents of his stomach in the corner, and Arcturus felt numb when he thought about what they had done.

But what else could they have done? It would have been too risky to tie up the torturer. He tried to shake the guilt from his thoughts, but the feeling remained heavy on his heart.

Crawley stared at the dead man through wide, terrified eyes, and Ulfr lunged forward and lifted him to his feet.

“If you don’t behave, you’ll follow him. Understand?” the dwarf snarled, bringing Crawley’s face close. The terrified steward nodded hurriedly.

“You’d better be a damned fine actor,” Arcturus said. “Because you’ve had a sudden change of heart. The Twenty-Fourth are going to escort the nobles to a hidden location outside of Vocans, and you’re coming along for the ride.”

“Is that the plan, then?” Sergeant Caulder said, removing Crawley’s hooded cloak from his shoulders and throwing it around his own. “We’re going to walk out in full view of some friendly soldiers?”

“I’m afraid so,” Arcturus replied.

Sergeant Caulder grinned.

“I like it.”





CHAPTER

49

ULFR LED THE WAY once more, with Sergeant Caulder and Crawley behind him and Arcturus and Harold at the back, their crossbows loaded and ready to fire should Crawley get any fancy ideas.

All but Crawley and Ulfr wore hoods, which made Arcturus nervous. Though it seemed that the uniform had been designed for anonymity while inciting riots and setting fires in Corcillum, he had not seen many rebels with their hoods up while inside the castle. It was suspicious for three of them to wear them up, but it could not be helped.

Still, with Crawley walking with them, most of the rebels kept their eyes to the ground—it seemed that Arcturus wasn’t the only one who found him terrifying.

Arcturus’s back prickled with sweat when they finally made it to the ground level and walked on the marble of the atrium floor. Their footsteps echoed loudly, and he knew the eyes of a hundred crossbowmen were upon him as they headed to the double doors in the side of the atrium.

“Open it,” Crawley ordered, and the steward was indeed a good actor, for his voice was laced with disdain.

Ulfr pushed open the double doors and then they were through, into the leather-covered floor of the summoning room.

Then Arcturus stopped in his tracks. For there were not just the dozen soldiers of the Twenty-Fourth within the room. There were twice that number.