Forged in Blood I by Lindsay Buroker

the only one who might have lasted more than three days as a recruit in the army.
    “I can’t go any farther,” Sespian said after a few moments of crawling. “The duct curves upward and stops at a vent in the floor. If my nose isn’t failing me—and it was somewhat damaged by that hair stunt—we’re near the kitchens. We don’t want to come up in such a busy area, do we?”
    “No.” Sicarius pulled out his dagger again.
    If he remembered his map of the Imperial Barracks correctly—and Hollowcrest had once insisted he be able to draw it from memory—the old dungeons lay below them, a section that had not been modified or modernized. Though he did not expect anyone to be down there, Sicarius pressed an ear to the warm tiles anyway. Books and Akstyr caught up, their breaths stirring the hot, dry air behind him.
    Satisfied nobody awaited below, Sicarius chiseled into the bottom of the duct. The black dagger made quick work of the tile mortar and also that of the bricks below. Stale, cool air wafted up. As soon as he’d removed enough bricks, he dropped through, landing in a crouch fifteen feet below, his fingers touching down beside his foot, resting upon the porous stone floor. That floor had been carved from rock long before the original barracks building had been built. Darkness filled the space, but he could tell they were alone. The cool draft brushing his cheeks carried the scent of earth, rock, and mildew, nothing of people or other creatures.
    “It’s safe,” Sicarius said. “Come.”
    Clothing rubbed and a soft thump sounded as the first person dropped down—Sespian. The second came with an, “Ooophf.”
    “Can’t see a thing,” Books muttered from above. “Probably fall on my—” He dropped, landing softly beside the others and making less noise than Akstyr.
    “This way.” Sicarius led them out of the stone room, following the draft into a passage.
    “Can we risk a light?” Sespian asked.
    “Once they realize the intruders are attempting to escape down instead of up and out, they’ll start searching in here,” Sicarius said.
    “Was that a no?” Sespian asked, his tone light.
    “We’ll be faster if we aren’t groping our way along the walls in the dark,” Books said. “Besides, we have a head start, right? You’re taking us directly to a secret passage, aren’t you? We’ll be out of here soon.”
    “Not quite.” Sicarius rounded a bend and stopped. “Akstyr.”
    “I feel it.” Akstyr came up beside him.
    “What?” Books asked.
    A faint whisper of power brushed Sicarius’s senses, senses that had nothing to do with sight or sound or smell, and the hairs on the back of his neck wavered. Several paces ahead of him, a soft red light appeared, emanating from a fist-sized octagonal spot on the chiseled stone floor. It was strong enough to illuminate old shackle holders on the walls and rusty torture tools leaning in nooks.
    “That’s the ward,” Akstyr said, his voice full of concentration. “I lit it up so we can see. I’m going to have to figure out…” His nose wrinkled, then he grunted and took a step back. “Yup, I’m going to have to figure out something.”
    Prepared to wait, Sicarius put his back to the wall so he could see in either direction down the passage. The cacophony of noise continued in the building above—it wouldn’t be long before someone thought to check the dungeons.
    “What happens if we walk past it?” Sespian asked. “Does it warn that wizard? Or… more?”
    “More,” Sicarius said.
    He’d attempted to infiltrate the Barracks the summer before, when Sespian had first sent a note to the team asking to be kidnapped. He’d tried three different approaches, including an above-ground climb over the walls. Humans he could evade, but he hadn’t been able to get past the wards.
    In the face of Sespian’s curious look, Sicarius tossed a pebble into the air above the glowing octagon. A sheet of red sprang into existence, blocking the route