Free Weapon of the Guild [The Chronicles of Grimm Dragonblaster, Book 2] by Alastair J. Archibald Page B

lasted.” Grimm drew a little power to himself and whispered “ Tch'ka! " The two warriors stumbled, and Crest and Harvel clutched their heads, twisting their faces in pain. Each raised his face to reveal bloodshot but undeniably sober eyes. “Remind me not to take you along next time I go out drinking,” Harvel muttered with a pallid, nauseous cast to his face.
    "Beats a hangover, anyway—but only just,” Crest riposted, wiping a bead of perspiration from his ashen face.
    "That's enough, you two.” Dalquist assumed an air of imperious authority, which only served to highlight his evident nervousness. “Keep your ears wide open. Hug the shadows and watch out for city guards."
    "Talking about guards, Dalquist; I imagine Starmor will have quite a retinue,” Grimm said. “It's not going to be easy to get in."
    Crest opened his cape to reveal a selection of razor-sharp throwing knives and a small crossbow. “Don't worry too much about guards,” the elf said. “I can put one of these beauties through a man's eye at fifty paces, so he's dead even before he even knows he's been hit. You're not on your own, you know."
    "Then I'd guess we're as ready as we'll ever be,” Grimm said and sighed. “Let's do it." The party moved through the deserted streets, clinging to fugitive shadows, but seeing nobody as they approached the tower. Stopping in a doorway a few yards from Starmor's domain, Grimm strained his ears for the slightest sound, but he heard nothing. He shivered at the oppressive stillness. They moved to a black, oaken door at the base of the dark turret. “Can you pick this lock, Crest?”
    Dalquist asked in a low mutter.
    Crest replied with a disdainful sniff and bent to the task. Drawing a bag of lock-picks from his robes, he turned his attention to a formidable-looking iron keyhole.
    After three long minutes of scratching and scraping, Crest gingerly tried the door, which opened with just the faintest of squeaks.
    "Good work, thief,” Dalquist muttered as they stepped inside.
    In front of them, Grimm saw a winding staircase of the most hideous design imaginable. The steps appeared formed of half-melted bones, whilst the walls bore images of human faces twisted in unimaginable torment. At first, the Questor thought they were carvings formed by some perverted mason's skill, but as he looked deeper, he saw the faces move and twist in the most ghastly contortions. As he swung the door closed behind the party, the young wizard heard a quiet but unnerving keening, which he guessed might be Starmor's sick idea of pleasant music. Grimm shivered and swallowed as Crest put a determined foot on the cadaverous staircase and begin to ascend. Dalquist followed the elf, with Harvel behind him and Grimm bringing up the rear.
    After a short period of soundless ascent, they came to a landing, and Grimm saw a large, ornate, golden padlock fastening a brass-studded door. Catching Dalquist's eye, he raised his eyebrows in question, and the older mage nodded, motioning the thief towards the door.
    Crest took out his lock-picks and started to work on the padlock. Within mere seconds, he had it open, removing it from the hasp with no more than a slight scraping noise.
    Dalquist nodded and stepped forward, turning the iron ring handle with silent stealth. The door opened with a faint whisper, revealing a dark room, lit only by fugitive, guttering flames from a log fire casting brief flickers of orange light around the chamber.
    The room was lined with row upon row of books and scrolls. Stepping forward to inspect some of the spines, Grimm recognised a few by their titles, others by their authors. Many were great magical classics thought lost centuries before, and each worth a king's ransom.
    On a long workbench he saw various gems, all flawless and of the highest quality: immaculate diamonds, rubies and sapphires, tourmalines and garnets. Crest reached a covetous hand toward the wealth of jewels, but Dalquist waved an admonitory