Kitabı oku: «Stormtide», sayfa 4

Tikhoveter held up his hands. ‘I meant no offence.’

‘Yes you did,’ replied Steiner, hefting his sledgehammer. ‘But I’m more interested in Felgenhauer than trading slights.’

‘Last I heard,’ Tikhoveter cleared his throat, ‘is that she was summoned to the Emperor himself by an Envoy. They almost made it back to the Imperial Court at Khlystburg when she went renegade.’

‘Renegade?’ Steiner stood open-mouthed for a second. ‘And then what?’ Tikhoveter shrugged and looked away. Steiner tossed him the guilder and the wiry old man snatched it from the air.

‘Just rumours,’ said Tikhoveter. ‘Some are saying she’s started a mercenary company operating around Slavon Province. That’s all I know about her.’

Marek held up another two guilders. ‘We need to know what the Empire is talking about, and we need to know it quickly.’

‘Come back tomorrow,’ said the old spy. ‘This kind of work can’t be rushed. I’ll reach out to a few contacts and see what I can discover.’

‘Can we stay here?’ asked Kristofine. Tikhoveter started laughing, a cruel sort of sound that gave way to a painful cough.

‘You don’t have to be so rude,’ she replied.

‘Safer for everyone is we stay at a tavern,’ said Marek. Steiner led them down the stairs.

‘I’ll have word by tomorrow,’ said Tikhoveter from the top of the staircase. He did not see them out. The rain had slackened during their brief stay at Tikhoveter’s house but the temperature was dipping.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Kristofine. ‘It takes weeks for a man on horseback to carry messages from one town to another. How does he expect to have answers for us by tomorrow?’

‘It’s what makes the Vigilants of Vozdukha so necessary,’ said Marek. ‘They can set whispers on the wind and send them over hundreds of miles, faster than any man on horseback could ever dream of riding.’

‘Like Mistress Kamalov?’ asked Kristofine.

Marek nodded. ‘It’s why a Troika of Vigilants usually has one graduate from the Vozdukha Academy in its ranks.’

‘So they can stay in touch with the Empire, wherever they are,’ said Steiner.

‘And some folk with witchsign,’ explained Marek, ‘those who are too sick or troublesome, are pressed into service as envoys or spies.’

‘Folk like Tikhoveter,’ said Steiner, glancing over his shoulder. ‘Can we trust him?’

Marek shrugged. ‘Who knows. But he’s our best bet right now, so we have to take that chance.’

Steiner looked back at the townhouse and tried to feel some hope, but uncertainty carried a dread all of its own.

CHAPTER SIX
Kimi

The noise could be heard a few streets away. Kimi and Marozvolk exited the blacksmith’s where they’d purchased swords.

‘Smoke,’ said Kimi, nodding to the pale blue sky. Dark clouds had crowded in over the city and it was just starting to rain. She set off against the flow of people who hurried past them, hurrying away from trouble. Violence had come to Svingettevei and Kimi knew in her bones it was no mere sailor’s brawl. Panic was written across the face of every person who fled down the street or cowered in a doorway.

‘It could just be a house fire,’ said Marozvolk. They exchanged a glance that confirmed neither of them really believed such a thing. A brisk walk became a jog and then, on some unspoken agreement, they both ran towards the sound. Kimi shouldered her way through the crowd, staring down any that blocked her way. She kept one hand on the hilt of her sword to make her intent clear. There was a wail of pain from ahead of them, cries of dismay, people calling out to each other. Most of the voices were children.

‘It has to be the novices,’ muttered Marozvolk.

‘What in the Hel is …’ Kimi got no further. Marozvolk rounded a corner and almost ran into three soldiers, lurking at the edge of the street in their black cloaks and heavy armour. No doubt the soldiers were as shocked as Kimi, trying to make sense of the unfolding chaos in Virag’s streets. A wagon was bright with fierce flames and a handful of children lay strewn on the cobbles, unmoving, bleeding or both. Mistress Kamalov and Kjellrunn stood in the centre of the street, shielding the children as best they could. The renegade Vigilant looked both severe and forbidding, while Kjellrunn was ashen with fear, her eyes wide with shock.

‘This is bad,’ muttered Marozvolk.

Kimi searched for Steiner, cursing under her breath when it was clear he was nowhere to seen. ‘Where is that damn fool?’

‘Stand down and cease all use of the arcane this instant!’ bellowed a man’s voice. Kimi noted the speaker; he stood on the opposite side of the street, holding a short sword to a young novice’s throat. It was the Imperial Envoy they had seen earlier. Kimi gritted her teeth in frustration. She should have gone back to the ship to warn people.

‘He won’t do it,’ muttered Marozvolk, nodding to the Envoy.

‘How can you be so sure?’ whispered Kimi.

‘The children are more useful to them alive. Always have been.’

A burly sergeant with a two-handed maul kicked one of the children on the ground, who cried out and curled up into a ball. Somehow the many soldiers – Kimi guessed over a dozen – hadn’t noticed the Yamili women emerge from a side street. Nor had they seen the vast cloud of birds that stared balefully from the rooftops, nor the knot of Spriggani who appeared beside the burning cart. Mistress Kamalov, Sundra and Kimi shared a nod and all the terrors of Hel descended on Virag that day.

Mistress Kamalov reached into the sky, urging a commotion of gulls, cormorants, and gannets to dive from above, summoning them with the arcane. Her lips moved silently and she frowned in concentration. The various birds buffeted the soldiers. Individually they had no hope of harming the armoured men, but their confusion was all Kimi needed. Kimi caught the first soldier square across the back of the neck with her sword. There was a bright gout of blood as the blade cut deep, all but decapitating him. Seconds later he was an armoured corpse littering the cobbles.

Marozvolk grabbed the nearest soldier from behind, one hand clamping over the man’s faceplate, blocking the eye slit. The soldier jerked backwards but Marozvolk pulled with all of her strength and the helm came free. Confused and off balance, the soldier had barely turned to see his attacker before Marozvolk slashed him across the throat in a bright torrent of crimson.

‘Worth every penny,’ said Marozvolk, hefting the new blade.

Kjellrunn used the cover of screeching birds to circle around the soldiers and reach the Envoy. A fallen mace leapt up from the cobbles and her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t meant to use the arcane, but the weapon had come to her as if summoned. The Envoy stared in disbelief, hands shaking, face pale, as Kimi and Marozvolk carried out their grim trade of death, besting the soldiers.

‘Surrender your weapons at once!’ the Envoy shouted as Mistress Kamalov’s birds swooped and slashed at him with their claws. Kjellrunn closed on the Envoy with a snarl on her face. She pulled back the mace, every muscle tense for the strike to come.

‘You will surrender!’ shouted the Envoy in desperation.

Sundra glowered at the scene, her eyes a dark and terrible grey. A soldier raised his mace to strike her brother, Tief, as he fought another attacker. Sundra muttered an invocation to her goddess and streaks of grey covered the soldier’s armour. The man inside the armour stiffened and became still, until with a final gasp the soldier was petrified. Tief shoved the newly formed statue, grunting a curse. The soldier fell backwards and shattered apart on the cobbles with a terrible crash. Tief snatched up the soldier’s mace and, wielding a long knife in his other hand, snuck up to a soldier attacking the children. The long knife took the soldier in the back of the leg. The soldier fell to his knees and turned just as Tief caved in his helm with three savage blows.

Marozvolk and Kimi bludgeoned and slashed a bloody path through the soldiers, but were soon split up. Marozvolk fought to defend the many novices, while Kimi surged forward to kill the Envoy. The children, initially cowed after the loss of their friends, saw their allies fighting for them and began to rally. Trine, the dark-haired, fire-breathing novice, hurled a javelin of arcane flame, which punched through a soldier’s armour and into his chest. Another of the men was lifted into the air by a trio of Zemlya novices, only to crash to the ground seconds later. He screamed as his legs broke.

Kimi was a dozen feet from Kjellrunn when she reached the Envoy but no matter what she did, she couldn’t find a way past the soldiers. Kimi deflected and dodged their strikes and replied with thrusts of her own, but she drew no closer.

The Envoy still clutched at the young girl, his short sword at her throat, his hand visibly shaking. He backed away from the fight but there was no escaping Kjellrunn. Her first strike came down on his sword arm, smashing the elbow. The sword fell from the Envoy’s numb fingers and clattered on the cobbles. The second strike almost connected with the Envoy’s head, but was nothing more than a glancing blow to his temple. The young novice slipped free of his grasp and fled.

‘Who are you people?’ mumbled the Envoy as he staggered backwards, holding his head with both his hands. Kjellrunn didn’t answer him, but hefted the mace, making her intentions clear. The Envoy’s expression hardened before spreading his feet wide and gasping down a breath. There was a tell-tale orange glow at the Envoy’s throat that Kimi had seen before.

‘Kjellrunn! Get down!’ Kimi was locked in combat with another soldier a dozen feet away and had no way of reaching her. The Envoy breathed a gout of fire that engulfed Kjellrunn’s head and torso.

‘Kjellrunn!’ screamed Kimi. She slashed the knee of the soldier she was fighting with her blade and sprinted towards Steiner’s sister. The Envoy stared ahead in disbelief. The young woman he had immolated had not dropped to the ground in agony. Kjellrunn had barely flinched. Her blackened skin showed traces of stone beneath the scorch marks. She threw down the mace from granite hands and seized the Envoy by the throat before punching him with a series of wet smacking sounds.

‘Kjellrunn! Stop. You’re killing him.’ Kimi stared from the Envoy to the barely recognisable girl. ‘I didn’t know you could change your skin.’

‘Neither did I,’ said Kjellrunn. She released the bloodied Envoy and stared at one hand, a look of sickened worry on her stony face. Her granite skin shimmered a moment before returning to its normal colour. Marozvolk emerged from the violence to stand beside them.

‘Kjellrunn,’ said the former Vigilant in quiet awe. ‘It takes years to learn how to do that.’

But Kjellrunn paid no attention. She gestured at a cobble by her foot, which she wrenched out of the road by arcane force. Then cobble shot over Kimi’s shoulder, barely missing her ear.

‘You nearly took my head off!’ Kimi shouted before turning to follow Kjellrunn’s furious gaze. The cobble had dented the sergeant’s chest plate and knocked him back a step, but he was still within arm’s reach. Kimi raised her sword but staggered backwards as the soldier slammed her in the face with the butt of the maul. Kimi fell into Kjellrunn and they both sprawled across the Envoy in a heap of limbs.

‘Get off of me!’ complained the Envoy, through a bloody and ruined mouth. Kimi stamped on the man’s face as she regained her feet. Marozvolk parried the sergeant’s next strike, stepping aside and looking for an opening. His armour was scored and dented, but the man showed no sign of giving in.

‘The Envoy has fallen!’ shouted the sergeant, then stepped in closer and swung his maul in a wide arc. Kimi sidestepped the blow and swiped at the sergeant’s knees but the armoured man was surprisingly nimble. Her sword missed its mark and the sergeant replied with a strike at Kimi’s head. The princess folded at the waist to avoid the maul and Marozvolk charged into the man, catching him in the midriff and knocking him down. There was a frenzied scrabble as Marozvolk grasped the sergeant’s maul at each end and pressed down on the man’s throat. He pushed and punched and clawed at Marozvolk but her skin shimmered and turned to stone, weathering his frenzied and desperate attacks. Long seconds passed before the sergeant stopped moving. His arms went slack, his legs stopped kicking, and a dreadful silence descended on the street.

Kimi offered Marozvolk a hand, helping the former Vigilant to her feet.

‘I thought he was going to kill you, your highness,’ said Marozvolk, breathing hard, suddenly formal.

‘I thought the same thing. Thanks for saving me.’

All around were bodies of soldiers. Tief was finishing off the ones who still drew breath, while Sundra attended to the dead and wounded novices.

‘So much for going ahead and scouting to make sure things are safe,’ said Kimi as Romola rounded a corner and looked at the scene of carnage.

‘What have you done?’ said the pirate captain quietly.

The rest of the day was spent disposing of the dead soldiers in the bay. Marozvolk hauled another corpse from the back of the wagon. The novices watched from their position on the ship. They stared down with pale faces, too shocked to speak. They were six less in number now, just seventeen souls. Mistress Kamalov had retired to her cabin, refusing to speak to anyone.

Tief helped Romola and her crew loot the soldier’s bodies, setting aside the coin and stripping the armour. ‘How long before the Empire notices they’re missing?’ he asked quietly.

‘I count eighteen bodies,’ said Kimi.

‘There’s usually ten men to a section,’ said Marozvolk, ‘and three sections to a troop.’

Tief swore under his breath and Romola pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘So there’s another twelve soldiers out there?’ said Tief.

‘We don’t know that,’ said Marozvolk. ‘They might have been under full strength. The other section might be in the next town.’

‘We keep three crew on watch at all times,’ Romola said to her crew. ‘As soon as we sight Imperial soldiers I’m casting off, and I don’t care who’s still ashore.’ She flashed an angry look at Kimi. ‘Where is Steiner?’

Kimi shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen him. I was scouting ahead. That was what we agreed.’ She eyed the captain with a sour look. ‘Who let Mistress Kamalov off the ship with all of those children?’

‘I was overseeing the resupply,’ countered Romola, squaring up to the princess. ‘I can’t be everywhere at once.’

‘You didn’t notice two score of children and an old woman sneaking off your ship?’ said Kimi, taking a step closer. ‘Are you blind?’

‘This isn’t helping,’ said Marozvolk quietly. ‘We dispose of the bodies, we get the supplies, we cast off. You two can blame each other all day long once we’re at sea.’

CHAPTER SEVEN
Kjellrunn

Kjellrunn sat on a coil of rope at the back of the ship, hunched and folded in on herself, one hand resting against her brow. Time and again she had tried to clear her mind of the street battle, tried not to remember the dull echo of weapons on armour or the shrill calls of the dying. Every noise from the docks sounded threatening to her. Every raucous voice belonged to a Solmindre soldier. She snuck a look over the side of the ship, holding her breath until she was sure they were safe.

The corner of the stern and the coil of rope were a poor substitute for her cabin, but she had no wish to be close to Mistress Kamalov. Kjellrunn didn’t know what was worse, the way the old woman cursed under her breath or the moments she gave in to silent weeping for the dead children. Kjellrunn nested down on the rope once more and blinked away the memories of the carnage. Six children beaten and bloody on the streets of Virag. Beaten until they stopped moving and breathing. Beaten for bearing the ‘taint’ of witchsign and the misfortune to run across an Envoy with the sight.

‘Frøya save us,’ whispered Kjellrunn as a chill wind whipped across the deck, bringing spots of rain with it. The crew of the Watcher’s Wait went about their tasks under a pall of surly silence, keen to sail away under the cover of night. The glee of ransacking Vladibogdan had subsided and the men and women shared sidelong glances, muttering bitterness when they spoke at all. They wore their weapons openly and all humour had been cast aside. Romola directed the resupply of the ship’s stores and not one of them shirked under her stern gaze. Mistress Kamalov appeared on deck and scowled at the grey sky and the promise of rain as if it were a personal affront. She spoke with Sundra and Tief for a moment.

‘They can’t wait to be rid of us,’ said Tief, indicating the pirates. ‘We’re bad luck. We’re worse than bad luck.’

Kjellrunn couldn’t hear Mistress Kamalov’s response, but moments later the old Vigilant was hobbling across the quarterdeck and up the steps. She approached the stern of the ship as if she hadn’t seen her pupil then leaned against the rail a dozen feet from where Kjellrunn sat.

‘It is quite a thing to hide in plain sight,’ said Mistress Kamalov, staring out to sea. Kjellrunn shrugged, too tired to argue, but there could be no question that hiding was what she was doing.

‘Sometimes it’s good to hide,’ continued Mistress Kamalov. ‘Sometimes hiding is necessary but sometimes hiding costs people their lives.’

Kjellrunn flinched at the last word and felt the heat of anger in her cheeks.

‘This isn’t about me sitting in the corner of the ship, is it?’

‘I always said you were a smart girl.’ Mistress Kamalov looked out to the city of Virag and curled her lip. ‘This entire city smells like rotting fish heads and wet dung, but I doubt the cities of Shanisrond will be any better.’

Kjellrunn released a breath of relief, glad for the change of subject, glad that the old woman hadn’t taken her to task for failing to protect the children. She was more than capable of doing that for herself. Neither woman spoke for a moment and Kjellrunn stood up, keen to reach the quiet of the cabin and avoid anyone else.

‘Strange that you take up arms against that Envoy but not fight with the arcane the way I taught you.’

‘I can’t do it,’ said Kjellrunn quietly. ‘I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t …’

‘What can you not do?’ asked Mistress Kamalov, hobbling forward, a frown fixed above her furious eyes.

‘I have nightmares,’ said Kjellrunn, ‘dreams where the souls of all those dead Okhrana drag me back to the woodcutter’s chalet in Nordvlast. They take me down to the deep places in the earth. I can taste death, feel the decay of creatures gone to their rest. Those Okhrana want me dead for what I did. I can’t use the arcane like that again. I can’t destroy a score of people in a heartbeat.’

Mistress Kamalov looked away and rubbed her face. The dark circles beneath her eyes spoke of sleepless nights and Kjellrunn suspected there would be many more to come.

‘You killed the Okhrana with the arcane to avenge Verner,’ said the old woman quietly. ‘And you should have killed those soldiers with the arcane to protect those children. Now they are dead. They are dead because they trusted an old, foolish kozel and a student who has suddenly lost her nerve.’

‘What?’ Kjellrunn stepped closer to the old woman.

‘You had no such qualms about sinking an entire ship of Imperial sailors off the shore of Nordvlast.’

‘That was to stop the Empire coming to Cinderfell.’

‘So.’ Mistress Kamalov held up one finger. ‘It is permissible to use the arcane when you wish to avenge a loved one, or to protect yourself, but not to protect anyone else.’

Kjellrunn pulled back her hand to slap the old woman across the face when she noticed the raven-haired novice just a dozen feet away. Kjellrunn lowered her hand. The remaining novices had gathered at the stern and were watching the exchange.

‘What do you want?’ said Kjellrunn. She eyed the girl with an unfriendly glare and the girl returned it with one of her own. For a brief moment Kjellrunn was back in the street, watching the girl breathe fire, killing the soldier who gripped her arm while Kjellrunn did nothing.

‘I’m Trine,’ said the girl. Kjellrunn took a moment to look at her more carefully. She was around the same age as Kjellrunn with the same pale complexion, made stark by the shock of black hair that tumbled down her back. Kjellrunn stood a little straighter but no good came of it. They were roughly the same height, the same scrawny build. They might have been twins if not for their hair. ‘I came to tell you’ – the girl looked at Mistress Kamalov – ‘that we’re staying on the ship. All of us. We’ll come with you to Shanisrond.’ For a fleeting second the girl looked apologetic. ‘And we promise not run off and get into trouble.’ The young girl looked over her shoulder with a hard expression, as if warning the other children.

‘How old are you, Trine?’ asked Kjellrunn.

‘Sixteen.’ Trine jutted her chin and stared at Kjellrunn with a note of challenge. ‘And I’m not scared of using my powers.’ Kjellrunn felt the rebuke as clearly as if she’d been struck.

‘Then perhaps you should be Mistress Kamalov’s new student.’ Kjellrunn pushed her way through the centre of the novices and kept walking until she was at the prow. She didn’t look back.

The crowds at the end of the pier shifted uneasily but Kjellrunn couldn’t see any soldiers among them from her place on the ship. A small contingent of guild masters lingered for a time, locked in discussion despite the inclement weather. Only three guild masters remained as the evening drew on, along with four of the city watch. A cruel wind whipped at their tabards and coats and Kjellrunn shivered. ‘Where are you, Steiner?’ she whispered, knowing all too well that her brother was spoiling for a fight with the Empire. She’d rather not lose him so soon after getting him back from Vladibogdan.

‘Frøya’s teeth, Steiner. Don’t leave me on this rotting ship.’

The guards on the pier intercepted two people before letting them approach the ship. Kjellrunn didn’t recognise them at first in their new clothes, but it was unmistakably Kimi and Marozvolk that stalked down the pier and not Marek and Steiner. Kimi looked cold and furious, much as she’d done for the whole voyage, while Marozvolk spared a backwards glance towards the city. Kjellrunn watched the former Vigilant bend closer to the Yamali princess and exchange words before both of them broke into a run. Marozvolk had seen something.

‘Not again,’ said Kjellrunn. Her mouth went dry.

The crowds at the docks broke apart and a single scream pierced the confused mumbles of the city folk. More soldiers in black enamelled armour and black cloaks approached. Kjellrunn counted a dozen at least, possibly twenty.

‘Cast off now!’ bellowed Romola.

Kjellrunn’s stomach turned to ice. Kimi and Marozvolk hit the boarding ramp even as two sailors attempted to drag it on board. The soldiers were moving down the pier as fast as their heavy armour would allow.

‘Archers!’ Romola’s voice again. She had drawn her sabre and pointed towards the pier. Kjellrunn ran, heading for Romola at midships. Sailors were heaving and grunting as they drew up the anchor and Kjellrunn struggled to slip past them.

‘Wait!’ she called out. ‘Wait, gods damn it! My brother is still ashore.’

The pirates’ arrows raced through the air, embedding in the thick wood of the soldier’s hastily raised shields. Other arrows clattered off the stone pier and ricocheted into barrels and crates near the guild masters. The soldiers had dropped to one knee behind their shields, their advance slowed.

‘Keep firing!’ shouted Romola.

Kjellrunn reached the captain and took her by the arm. ‘We have to wait for my family!’

‘It’s your family or my ship and my crew,’ shouted Romola. She shook Kjellrunn off.

‘Just a few more minutes!’

‘A few more minutes and there won’t be a ship to come back to.’

Sundra emerged at Kjellrunn’s side and took her hand. ‘Come away from the captain, no good will come of it.’

A soldier on the pier had slung his shield across his back and ran towards the ship, sprinting as best he could in the heavy armour.

‘Cast off, damn you,’ shouted Romola. ‘Push off from the pier.’

The soldier leapt on, mounting a pile of crates as arrows fell all around him. He was almost at the gunwales when Romola planted a foot against his head and forced him off the ship. The deck was a flurry of action as sailors went about their tasks.

‘Look out!’ shouted a pirate beside Kjellrunn. Moments later a handful of grappling hooks streaked over their heads, ropes arcing behind them after. The metal clattered on the wooden deck and the ropes became taut. Someone screamed and Kjellrunn discovered a sailor pinned up against the side of the ship, a grappling hook, thrown from land, embedded in his thigh. Kjellrunn drew the pirate’s cutlass as the pinned man clutched at his leg and howled in agony.

‘What are you doing?’ he gasped. Kjellrunn severed the rope attached to the grappling hook and a soldier on the pier collapsed backwards.

‘I have wounded here!’ shouted Kjellrunn.

More grappling hooks were thrown, prompting more calls of alarm.

‘How did they know to bring grappling hooks?’ said Romola. ‘They’re soldiers, not marines.’

‘Whatever they are,’ said Kjellrunn, pointing to another contingent of soldiers further up the docks, ‘there are a lot more of them.’

‘Marines don’t wear armour, halfhead,’ said the captain. ‘Keep firing, you filthy dogs!’ she bellowed at the archers.

The hissing sound of fabric unfurling filled Kjellrunn’s senses as the main sail dropped from its boom. Kjellrunn caught a glimpse of Mistress Kamalov at the stern of the ship with four novices, all standing with feet spread wide and arms outstretched, fingertips splayed. The sail snapped out and the ship lurched forward. The shouting stopped as all aboard clung to whatever was closest to hand. Kjellrunn dropped to her knees and blinked through the unnatural wind. There was a moment where no one said a word and the only sound was the shrieking arcane gale and an almost unhinged laughter. Kjellrunn turned to see Romola staring up at the main sail with a wide grin.

‘May you have witchsign!’ shouted the captain above the howling gale. ‘Glorious witchsign and a fair wind at your back!’

The Watcher’s Wait surged away from Virag and the sailors dropped more of the sails. Kjellrunn ran to the stern, ignoring Mistress Kamalov and her charges, who squeezed their eyes closed in concentration. The pier was taken over by black-clad soldiers, who stared after the ship in mute fury. Kjellrunn watched the city as it grew smaller and smaller with distance. Somewhere in that sprawl of people was her brother, her father. Did they even know they had been left behind?