The Magic Trick (The Card Game #2)

Ch 30 - The Death Room

CHAPTER XXX

THE DEATH ROOM

Though Viktor braced himself, one breath of the Death Room was enough to bring back his old horror. He pictured decaying things around him, tasted bitterness on his tongue and felt weakness in his limbs. That infrasonic noise was back, flooding his eardrums, bending his head in on itself. He might have collapsed then and there, but Romulus grabbed hold of his arm, willing him deeper into the room.

Lieutenant Vyrhus must have been surprised to see his captives make it past the doorway, because his distant voice swore furiously. He ordered his men to cast aside their torches and enter in after him. Viktor's knees gave way.

"Get up! Up!" Romulus hissed. "Breathe through your mouth—don't smell it. It's all a trick, Viktor—just a trick."

"Yes, a trick," Viktor mumbled into the thick air, but then he placed his hand on the ground to push himself up and felt strange matter under his bloody, lizard-bit fingers: Papery, bumpy, bone-dry, and soggy all at the same time, the substance caved in at his touch, engulfing his hand in rotting vileness so that he yelped and shot up. "Ah, the ground!"

"Quiet. I felt it too. Don't think about it," said Romulus.

Not thinking about it was impossible. Every step Viktor took made him more repulsed as his boots squished and sunk into whatever laid rotting underfoot. Suddenly Romulus halted, still gripping Viktor's arm. Far behind them, the grey rectangle of the door opened, and twenty silhouettes entered into the blackness. The last figure shut the door, sealing them all in true, perfectly opaque darkness.

Viktor wanted to weep or scream or just die and get it over with—anything to be free from the stench and buzzing in his brain. But Romulus steadied him and pressed something into his hand: The end of a rope—and not just any rope: Fire Wire.

Its woven strips of cloth were the giveaway, and so Viktor knew that the rope had been soaked in strong water: It would burn into a wisp of smoke the moment it was struck by a match. Of course, lighting anything right now would give away their position and draw instant gunfire. Instead, Romulus gave orders by tracing two fingers on Viktor's palm. First his fingers split apart, then they surged forward, and then they met in a diamond point. Viktor understood. The rope wasn't going to be lit at all—it would be used as a trip line.

Following the design, Viktor slowly crept away from Romulus, keeping the rope taut between them. He could easily hear Bogatir's heavy footsteps, but if Vyrhus and the others were moving, they made little sound. Sweat trickled down Viktor cheeks, making flies and gnats swarm around him. Perhaps the insects were the source of the supersonic buzz, but if that were true, there must have been tens of thousands of them breeding and feasting in the darkness. A moan escaped Viktor's lips.

Bang!

A bullet whistled past Viktor's head. He froze, not daring to breathe. Then came the sound of someone—probably Bogatir—fumbling around in an attempt to reload his pistol. Other flintlock hammers were being cocked back and more than a few swords swung back and forth like sickles. The sounds were disturbingly close, but this was their chance. Romulus tugged once, twice, three times on the Fire Wire. Together the blood brothers dashed forward, pulling the rope as hard as they could and keeping it low to the ground.

Snap, snap, snap!

Almost simultaneously, a dozen pairs of legs were swept out from under their owners, one foe face-planting so close to Viktor that a sword nicked his ankle. Accidental shots ricocheted off the walls, but in the confusion, most of the guards dared not fire, for there was no telling who was who among the crashes and cries. All Viktor knew was that he had to get to the door, and he ran until his outstretched hands smashed against the wall. But where was the exit? Where was the door crack?