Princess of Blood Read online

  ‘What do you reckon our chances are?’ Sitain whispered in Lynx’s ear.

  ‘They seem to think they know what they’re doing,’ he said.

  ‘That’s not what I asked.’

  ‘Aye, I know.’ Lynx found his hands tightening into fists, nails digging into his palms, and made an effort to release the tension in them before replying. ‘I don’t know about our chances,’ he admitted, ‘but given all we saw in Shadows Deep, what odds would you have given for us getting through that?’

  ‘Poor odds,’ Sitain agreed. ‘Dunno if that’s a comfort or not.’

  ‘Me neither. Oh, here we go.’

  Up ahead, the sums had been done and all but one door eliminated as a possibility. Atieno took a turn to open the door on the right-hand wall so the others weren’t doing all the work and Lynx watched Sitain slope forward again to look. Soon they were all filing through and the door closed behind them. While the next set of numbers was being investigated, Lynx went to join Safir and Layir. The two easterners each offered him an inclined head and a slight smile, their actions and mannerisms strangely similar given Layir’s formative years had been far from their homeland.

  ‘Are you also getting the impression that we’re far from useful?’ Safir said, glancing towards the latest discussion.

  ‘Yeah, but that also means there’s nothing trying to kill us at present.’

  ‘I hoped for a little more excitement down here,’ Layir declared. ‘This is the fabled Labyrinth of Jarrazir, after all.’

  ‘We’re in a giant puzzle-box, thousands of years old and hundreds of feet below ground,’ Lynx pointed out. ‘What more were you looking for?’

  Layir shrugged. ‘Riches for preference – statuary even? Great histories of the Duegar race inscribed on a hundred stone tablets? The secrets of life? Bloody something at least.’

  ‘The youth of today,’ Safir said in a mock-apologetic tone. ‘Ever demanding. We, my dear Layir, are here as escort and, if we’re very lucky, pack mules for whatever Toil finds. This is probably the good bit of our adventure.’

  ‘Down we go,’ Toil called across the room to the company at large.

  Lastani opened the doorway and led them down into another chamber. Before Lynx had reached the bottom he heard exclamations of surprise and alarm coming from those in the lead. He had his gun drawn in the next moment, but no sound of fighting followed and he and the others edged their way down to find no obvious danger other than an enraged Toil.

  ‘Godspit and damn, Paranil! You gibbering fool, what have you done?’

  The bespectacled man scrabbled through the handful of paper in his fist, gabbling something nonsensical until he found the page he was looking for. Lynx ignored him and advanced into the room, a growing sense of fear in his belly. There were two doors in this room, both on the wall ahead, and a strange multi-piece sculpture occupying much of the ground between.

  ‘Catrac’s shrivelled balls, we must’ve gone wrong,’ Safir breathed beside him, looking all around for anything on the walls that might prove a threat.

  ‘I made no mistake!’ Paranil screeched. ‘I swear it!’

  ‘Well what the buggery is that then?’ Aben roared, pointing at the strange sculpture. ‘Every room’s been empty except for the one where there was a damn trap to punish our mistake, so explain how that is a good sign?’

  It consisted of two groups of twisting shards of stone rising out of the ground, separate from each other and each set obviously corresponding to one door. What Lynx couldn’t tell was what the sets were meant to be, they appeared to be just a random tangle of stone protrusions – clearly carved by a mage, seven or eight bizarre stalagmites to each set, but none of them looked like they served a purpose.

  ‘Look, my sums were correct,’ Paranil announced, waving the paper in Toil’s face until she grabbed it off him. ‘This was the only option.’

  ‘So were we wrong about the pattern, or has it changed on us?’ she mused.

  ‘There’s no reason for it to remain consistent,’ Lastani agreed, ‘but wouldn’t we have had some indication? The maker took pains to establish that system – perhaps it’s still in force, just adding another element?’

  Toil scowled at the stone formations. ‘What in pity’s name is this supposed to be?’

  ‘Those are more numbers over the doors?’ Lynx asked.

  ‘Just the glyphs for one and two,’ she confirmed.

  ‘Both primes then?’

  ‘Aha, well opinions differ on that,’ Paranil broke in, ‘um, but I would be cautious about using it as a basis, given what we have here.’

  ‘And what do we have here?’ Lynx approached the formations cautiously, trying to view every obstacle like an experienced relic hunter would. He skirted halfway around them before backtracking and pointing. ‘Is it just me, or does that look a bit like an arm?’

  ‘What?’

  He nodded and continued walking, head cocked, until he stopped and moved a little closer. ‘Atieno, take that oil lamp around over there would you?’

  The man did so, turning the wick on the lamp up so it gave a half-decent light and more importantly cast some shadows.

  ‘It’s a statue,’ Lynx breathed, a spark of excitement filling his belly. ‘Shattered gods, that’s clever! Atieno, put the light in the middle now.’

  ‘Statue?’ the mage asked as he did so.

  ‘Cut up – separated so you have to look at it from the right angle to see all the pieces together.’

  Lynx edged forward until he was almost right in front of the largest and outermost formation. But he wasn’t looking at that one, it was the other set of stones across the room that had caught his eye from there.

  ‘Look!’

  Toil went to join him, almost shoving Lynx out of the way in her enthusiasm, and the pair stared open-mouthed at the further statue. The statue was taller than a human, as large as the Wisps they’d encountered in Shadows Deep, but broader. It had no face, they could make out little detail at all, but still Lynx felt a thrill. He remembered all too well Toil telling them that the Duegar had not left statues or images of themselves.

  No one knew what they looked like, with the exception perhaps of some Militant Orders who possessed the earliest writings about the gods. It was a matter of violent debate as to whether the gods had once been Duegar, but certainly that race had once worshipped other beings in their earlier ages. Whatever the truth, this was a sight that few, if any, had ever been permitted.

  By the shape of the stone, the scalloped lines and straight edge to the face, it was clear to Lynx that it was an outline statue of a Duegar – or something – in ornate armour. Most significantly, it seemed to be holding a hand up – just a blockish shape composed of several separate pieces, but one that appeared to have a glyph inscribed upon it from where Lynx stood.

  ‘It’s like the statue has a two inscribed on its hand,’ Toil breathed.

  Lynx looked over at the doorway. He could only just about make out the glyph, but it did seem to correspond perfectly. On the far side of the room Atieno backed up so he was next to the group Lynx was staring at, and squinted across at the composite statue nearer Lynx.

  ‘The one on your side also has a two,’ he commented. ‘Our statue friends seem to agree on which door we should take.’

  ‘Wait!’ Layir broke in, stepping behind Atieno. ‘You’re looking at it wrong.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘Each statue is telling you what the other would say,’ Layir said, face splitting into a huge grin. ‘Don’t you see? It’s a children’s riddle!’

  ‘Ah!’ Safir exclaimed, crossing to the opposite side. ‘Of course. You went a whole afternoon in a huff because I wouldn’t tell you the answer.’

  ‘I was only five years old!’ Layir laughed. He was about to say more when he caught sight of Toil’s expression and hurriedly moved on. ‘Safir called it the two doors problem, heard of it?’

  Lynx heard a gasp as Toil caught on. ‘The two guards! On
e lies, one tells the truth!’

  ‘Exactly. From here, you look across and see which door the other guard would tell you to take.’

  ‘And you therefore choose the other,’ Paranil finished. ‘It makes sense – the only question is whether the ancient Duegar knew the riddle too.’

  ‘Once you find someone able to answer that, you let me know. In the meantime, has anyone got any better ideas? Any pattern in the numbers we’ve taken to suggest a path?’

  Paranil went back to his notes with Atieno looking over his shoulder, the others inspecting the stone formations from every angle they could think of in case they’d missed something. It took a little while, but eventually they all admitted defeat and Toil finally looked satisfied.

  ‘Lastani, door number one it is.’

  Chapter 28

  Sotorian Bade felt a rare flicker of fear in his heart and for a moment he couldn’t move. Beside him a stone slab flicked up and slotted back into place with a dull thud. Of Gull, the woman who’d been standing beside him a moment before, there was no sign. Just a strangled cry of surprise as she’d dropped without warning and vanished.

  ‘Shit!’ Chotel yelled from behind them, racing forward. ‘Gull!’ He hammered at the stone slab with the butt of his mage-gun but it didn’t yield. Others went to help him, but push as they might, they couldn’t budge it and as Bade slowly turned to face them, the relic hunters gave up, panting.

  ‘She just dropped,’ Chotel gasped. ‘Shitting gods, she went like there was nothing underneath her!’

  ‘Reckon I noticed that bit,’ Bade said slowly. ‘Also, I’m more’n a little aware that I’m standing on a slab exactly bloody like hers.’

  ‘Deepest black,’ moaned one of the dragoons who’d also stepped on to a square, a few down from Bade.

  A tall, blond lieutenant, the man looked around at the floor then took a jerky pace backwards on to the unpaved section of floor where the rest still were. Out of nowhere there was a flash of light and a jerky arc of lightning slashed through the air – hitting him full on. The man didn’t have time to scream as he was brutally slapped to the ground, the magic carving a path down his body, and he fell in a boneless heap.

  ‘Stay still, boss!’ Chotel shouted as cries of panic went up from the rest. ‘Don’t move off that!’

  Several dragoons ran to their comrade’s side, but it was immediately clear he was dead – a blistered line torn through his uniform and skin, oozing blood. Bade had to watch chaos reign for a while, hardly daring to move while the rest panicked and brandished weapons against an unseen foe. Eventually Kastelian got control of his troops and the noise level dropped enough for Bade to speak. He kept his voice low, calm and controlled though inside he was nothing of the sort. If anything he didn’t want to move too fast in case it triggered a similar response.

  He cleared his throat loudly. ‘Someone check the others,’ Bade ordered, having to remind himself they would be looking to him to lead. ‘Put a bit more weight on the slabs this time?’

  They had descended through the trapdoor in the floor of an empty chamber to find themselves on a shallow slope that didn’t lead nearly as far down as they expected. No more than halfway to the bottom it opened out on to the platform where Chotel stood. They’d tried to backtrack, realising they had made a mistake, but it hadn’t worked. When the mage had tried to open another door back in the chamber, the gift disc had pulsed briefly with light before exploding into a shower of lightning-magic. The nearest two dragoons and Spade had been killed instantly, the labyrinth’s punishment for going back on a choice. Looking down at the charred corpse, Bade now realised that wasn’t limited to doors.

  ‘This one’s solid,’ reported a short woman with a corporal’s stripe on her arm. To demonstrate she hammered at it with her gun butt then stamped one foot on the surface. ‘See.’

  ‘Go on then,’ Bade said, feeling sceptical. Better you test it out than any o’ mine.

  As soon as her full weight was on the slab, it seemed to vanish. Bade heard the snap of bone as she tried to catch herself on the edge, but it was as though something had dragged her down into the darkness below. Another dragoon dived forward, dropping the barrel of his gun into the space to stop the slab returning to position.

  There was a crunch as the metal buckled under impact, but just as it looked as though he’d done it the lightning spat out again. Bade looked away as the man’s eyes burst under the impact. He fell back, convulsing as the slab dropped again and the mage-gun fell from its owner’s hands, following the corporal into the black.

  ‘Ulestim,’ Bade called out over the hubbub of panic. ‘Why’m I still alive here?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ the man wailed. ‘There are no markings, no nothing!’

  ‘Sonna, slap that gibbering high-born weasel for me.’

  His sharpshooter did exactly that, her palm cracking like a pistol shot around the small room. Ulestim’s head rocked backwards, but he shut up and after a few seconds, nodded. Rubbing his cheek he took a long breath.

  ‘Back with us?’ Bade asked. ‘Right – look at what we’ve got. What can you tell me? Whatever you see, I’m in no mood for “I don’t knows”, understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir. We, ah, you’re on a grid of seven by seven, no markings – no space around it. Clearly we want to get to the door ahead of us, I can’t see any others. If you take a step back, you die. If you stand on the wrong slab, you die.’

  ‘So why am I still alive when Gull’s dead? Is this fucking prime numbers again?’

  ‘I don’t … Wait. Yes.’ Ulestim looked up and counted his way across to where the dragoon had fallen through. ‘Gods, it is primes! She fell through because she stood on the first slab – he was safe because he was on the fifth, until he took a step back from it, anyway.’

  Bade looked at his feet. ‘So I’m on the second, Gull stood on the first.’

  ‘Exactly! One doesn’t count as a prime.’

  ‘Prove it.’

  ‘Eh?’

  Bade grinned nastily. ‘Number three’s right here next to me, come keep your old friend company before you show him the path.’

  ‘I …’ the words died in Ulestim’s throat and he nodded nervously.

  So gingerly he almost had his eyes closed, Ulestim stepped on to the slab next to Bade’s and – and nothing happened. After a moment he opened one eye and squinted at Bade.

  ‘Aha, I was right!’

  ‘Nothing like the courage of your convictions, eh? Where now?’

  ‘Good question. It should be, ah …’ Ulestim paused. ‘I should map this out.’

  ‘Have at it, we’ve all day.’

  The disgraced nobleman lapsed into silence for a while, sketching a grid on a tatty sheaf of paper and quickly marking numbers on it. ‘Oh,’ he said after a few moments.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Which way do the numbers go? Once you reach the end of a row?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Very much so,’ Ulestim muttered, scowling at the paper. ‘I will try both.’

  He spent a little while doing so, before brightening slightly. ‘It starts the same,’ Ulestim announced. ‘No matter which way it goes.’

  He looked down at the slabs, then at his paper again, double-checking before he risked his life. Finally and with the same bravery he’d shown earlier, he took a pace diagonally to his right. Again, he didn’t fall to his death so Bade moved on to the slab Ulestim had been occupying.

  ‘There’s a curved edge here,’ called Chotel, who’d been inspecting the line of slabs before stepping on to any. He pointed at the right-hand-most slab where, now Bade looked, there was indeed a slight curve to the top edge.

  Bade looked left and right, realising there was a similar curve on the furthest left-hand slab of the second row. ‘So the path of numbers snakes up the board?’

  ‘It appears that way,’ Ulestim murmured, ‘but let’s not make any more assumptions, eh?’

  ‘Sure. Ah, Ulestim? How m
any prime numbers do you know?’

  The man coughed. ‘Certainly enough to get us halfway across. After that, there’s a little guesswork, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh, good.’

  ‘Indeed. Someone mark these as we go please? Nineteen.’ He took another diagonal step and still failed to die so Bade followed him.

  ‘Twenty-three comes next.’ Ulestim peered around for a curved edge of stone and found it on his right. ‘If I’m correct, it’s another diagonal move. Almost seems too good to be true.’

  ‘Maybe it isn’t?’

  ‘Thanks,’ Ulestim said reproachfully. ‘However, I’m too far from the end to jump. So.’

  He took another step and remained alive so Bade again followed, Chotel keeping close behind. Up ahead he could make out the door on the far side a little better now. It was the only visible exit, but still Bade felt a flush of relief as he saw the glyph for seven above it. Ulestim might have been slow in recognising the pattern, but at least his theory was supported by what awaited them. It was small consolation, but right now Bade was willing to accept it gladly.

  ‘Next?’

  ‘That’s where it gets tricky. I believe the next prime is thirty-one, but I can’t reach it from here. I can’t jump that far either, it’s that one – two in from the left on the next row.’

  Bade followed where he was pointing. They were close to the right-hand side where an almost-sheer side slope ran down the side of the puzzle-board section.

  ‘What comes after it?’

  ‘Assuming the curved lines are correct about the path – and frankly we’re dead if they aren’t – it has to be thirty-seven. Which is, ah, directly ahead. Just a jump over the slab in front.’

  ‘Sure?’

  Ulestim shook his head and jumped. The slabs were not large, about a yard across, so it wasn’t much of one, but given overbalancing would mean death, he took every care.

  ‘You’re still not dead!’ Bade marvelled, feeling his usual humour returning. ‘I was betting against you there.’

  ‘Glad to hear it, feel free to take a pace forward,’ was the retort. ‘Now, where in the deepest black do we go from here?’