Imperial Traitor by Mark Robson

Author:Mark Robson [Robson, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471116568
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK

CHAPTER TEN

‘You there! Stop where you are!’

No sooner had Reynik and Calvyn moved out from the shadows than the bellowed order froze them briefly in their tracks. They had been so focused on the alley and looking for possible watchers that they had not noticed a patrol of Legionnaires rounding the corner down the street to their left.

‘Go! Go!’ Reynik urged, his momentary surprise overcome. This was no time for explanations. He launched into a sprint, with Calvyn a step behind him. A few paces and the darkness of the alley swallowed them. The tromping sounds of running, booted feet closed quickly on their position. It took a moment for Reynik to find the right stone in the thick darkness.

‘Here, hold this,’ he ordered in a hoarse whisper, holding out the spider talisman. ‘Here we go.’

He touched the icon to the transfer stone, belatedly remembering that he had meant to draw a weapon before entering the Guild complex. It was too late now. The magic was already swirling through him. Despite his previous exposure to the sensations, the feeling of exploding and coalescing left him unbalanced as he materialised in the wolf spider suite. Had he been alone, he would have died there and then. The assassin, Firedrake, who was on watch duty, was quick to react to their emergence. He had drawn and thrown a blade before their bodies had fully solidified, but Calvyn, too, was quick to react.

The blade in flight took a sudden swerve to the left, missing Reynik by the narrowest of margins. A second blade followed and that also flew in a curved path that defied the laws of nature. Firedrake gasped with surprise. He knew his throws had been good, but neither had found their mark. He was given no time to theorise on how he had missed. The man bearing the wolf spider icon had taken only an instant to recover, and was bearing down on him with a sword that had all but leaped into his hand.

Firedrake drew his own sword, his mind reeling in confusion. This was not the same young man who had been initiated into the Guild as Brother Wolf Spider. The person he had seen that day was boyish of face, and only of medium build. This man was broad-shouldered, muscular and ugly as chewed blackroot. It was impossible. Icons could not change hands without the death of the holder. There had been no initiation of another at the bonding stone. It made no sense.

He blocked the intruder’s first swing, but he was unprepared for the speed and agility of the big man. Their blades rang no more than three times. Before Firedrake knew what had hit him, the bearer of the wolf spider icon had run him through. His fingers slackened on the hilt of his sword. The blade tumbled from his fingers, clattering to the floor with a loud jangle of metal on stone. His jaw slackened with shock and he looked down as his attacker pulled his blade free.

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