Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms

Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11

Keris swept over the smooth sands of the Southern Desert and entered the forbidding gates of Gort. The guards on duty barely had time to acknowledge her passing. I must be swift. Any moment now, word would spread of the attack on the compound, and the fortress would be on high alert. She needed to buy some time, and for that she needed a diversion. She hurried in the direction of the barracks.

It was shortly after dawn, but most of the fortress’ inhabitants were up and about. More importantly, the garrison would have mustered for the day’s activity; hence the barracks should be all but deserted. She entered one of the low wooden buildings, and poked her head inside the sleeping quarters. As expected, they were deserted.

She stepped inside and calmly reached into the pouch at her belt, bringing out a lodestone grenade. Placing her other hand over it, she gave it one half twist and tossed it toward the bunks at the far end. There was a low whine, increasing in pitch, followed by an explosion of white light and heat. Flames and then smoke rapidly took hold of the bunks and the wooden floor. She stepped back, twisting the top half of another silver coloured sphere and threw it toward the other end of the barracks, bringing another blossoming of light and flame.

There was something strangely satisfying, even cathartic about her actions. During the violence of the events at the guardhouse, she had been detached, professional. Her body and her staff had moved automatically in response to the need to remove the hostile threat–without emotion, without thought. Afterward, though, as she surveyed the carnage she had wrought, the lives she had taken, she felt physically sick. She had acted to save the lives of others, but she still felt sullied by all that she had been forced to do up to this point.

Now, as she watched the flames lick upward, consuming the barracks, it felt as if she were purging herself, expunging forever her old life of service to a creature who was determined to destroy everything she held dear, to achieve his own ends.

What her new life would hold for her she did not know but for the first time in a long while, she felt clean. For now, that was enough.

She turned and exited the burning barracks, heading for the armoury.

The armoury building was a short distance away, near the casemate. Keris waited near the stone wall of the fortified structure, feigning a preoccupation with her equipment. All too soon, there were frenzied shouts from the direction of the barracks. Soldiers began running towards the source of the disturbance, and moments later were joined by the two guards from the armoury itself. Keris waited until they were out of sight, and then slipped inside.

The inner room was poorly lit. Wooden shelves set into the rough stone walls were packed with equipment and boxes. A few crates were stacked against the far wall. Keris found a small sack and began rapidly poring over the items on display, locating what she needed. She worked quickly, replacing anything that she disturbed. Then, tying the sack to her belt, she left the armoury, checking that no-one saw her.

She needed just one more thing. Hurrying across the worn stone cobbles, she made for the Commander’s office.

The office was inside the casemate, at the far end. She entered and saw no-one around. They were all at the barracks no doubt, trying to bring the inexplicable fire under control. The office door was not locked. Her eye scanned the interior and settled on a loose collection of books and scrolls on a table off to one side. She rifled through them, selecting the scroll she needed and stuffing it into her sack.

She turned to leave and stopped. A figure stood in the doorway clad in a rich russet surcoat over leather armour, barring her exit. He was shorter than she was, but still carried an imposing air. His thin features transformed into a visage of pure contempt. His tail twitched in agitation. “You!”