Soulsworn (8 page)

T
o Dance with Thunder

H
eart racing, Aidah scrambled away from the opening in the canvas. When she was close to the children, she turned, half expecting someone to come leaping into the wagon. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed her heart to slow when no one did. It became a steady thump, loud in her own ears.

“Mama,” Clara whimpered. The little girl’s eyes were wide with fear.

Aidah made her way to her daughter’s side. She meant to tell Clara all would be well, but Clara would know she was lying. Instead, Aidah held her.

Nerisse was on one knee, squinting out into the rain. The air seemed to crackle around her. “Melders?”

“At least one,” Lomin said. “Wait here a moment.” He eased between their belongings to the far side of the wagon. A metallic glint appeared in his hand, a swishing sound followed, and then dim light leaked through the cut he’d made. The Blade slipped out into the rain.

Praying silently, Aidah held Clara in one arm while resting a hand on Nerisse’s leg. She felt the tension in her older daughter’s body. “Wait for him,” she urged, meeting her daughter’s hard eyes. “Whomever these people are, they must be more experienced than you.” Above the steady patter of raindrops she heard Lomin issue commands.

Nerisse shook off Aidah’s hand. “You know who they are as well as I do, Mother. They’re Ainslen’s hunters come to finish us. This is what Father prepared me for. It’s time you accepted it as so.”

Aidah winced.
You knew this was coming from the day he first gave you the box, from the day you decided to take it from the storeroom, from when you allowed her to ingest it. It is too late to turn back now. Her course is set; let her sail it.

Despite her reasoning, Aidah still found it hard to reconcile herself with the risk. She could lose Nerisse, her true flesh and blood. Although she loved Clara like her own, the reality of that chance made her realize those emotions paled in comparison to what she felt for Nerisse. She was loath to admit the difference, but denial made it no less true.

“At least wait for him. Please.” Aidah’s insides churned as she uttered the words. Nerisse nodded stiffly.

Time stretched, filled with the drum of rain, Aidah’s swirling thoughts, racing heart, and their trembling breaths. The wind howled, gusts whipping at the canvas. Thunder rumbled, a low roll that made Aidah jump.

“Relax, Nerisse, I’m coming in,” Lomin said. A moment later he climbed back through the canvas. “We might have a way out for you three. Four men are dead, including Aran. All were positioned either to the front of the wagon or on the right side. Three died first. We can’t tell how, but the fourth was Moran. He died peeking around the corner next to us. He has a hole in his head that goes straight through. That tells me that at least one of our melders is of the Caster type. Which means he can’t be that far, perhaps five hundred feet at most.”

“So what do we do? How do we escape?” Aidah asked.

“We’ll put you three on horseback, create a diversion, and have you ride as fast as you can toward Melanil.”

Tears welled up in Aidah’s eyes. “That won’t work. Clara isn’t a good rider. She’ll fall for certain. And I’m not leaving without her.”

“Then we fight,” Nerisse said. A low peal of thunder echoed as if to add to her words.

“May the Dominion help us,” Aidah whispered.

“Indeed,” Lomin said. “Well, if we must fight, then I still want you three outside in case this Caster has any skill with fire. Follow me, and stay where I put you until the battle is done. If things should go bad for us, then the horses will still be an option. You can double with Clara. Now, follow me, and do as I say.”

Aidah and the girls put on their cloaks over their coats and climbed out after Lomin. He helped them down. She huddled into her cloak, its hood pulled over her head against the rain. Water pooled beneath her, and already she felt it soaking into her boots, numbing her feet. The cold made her glad for the wagon’s protection against the gusts that rattled its frame. The horses whinnied, tethered to the wagon bed near the byagas.

Two guards, Borin and Kitesh, were standing near the rear of the wagon. The other, Nartal, crouched with his back to the wheel, his face hidden by his hood. Three other armsmen, Morin, Gortans, and Pilmar, occupied similar spots beside the trailing wagon. Up on its bench, body slumped to one side, was Aran. The byagas waited patiently, heads bowed, water running in rivulets down their hides.

“Where’s Kazdra?” Lomin peered at the men hiding behind the other wagon.

“Tried to make a run for it,” Kitesh said. “Thought he could outflank the enemy.” The gap-toothed man pointed at a body sprawled in the field, barely discernible through the haze of rain. A horse stood near the dead man, nipping at a tuft of grass. “That’s as far as he got.”

“Did you see what the Caster used?”

“Looked like metal to me.”

“Metal?”

Kitesh nodded. “That’s what I said.”

“Only melders I know can use metal like that are those Farlanders,” Borin said, voice gruff. “Heard they’re not even Casters, at least not in the way we know them. They don’t harness a bit of their soul to fling at their target. Instead, they loose metal balls through some weapon they call a firestick. Makes that thunder you been hearing. They attach soul to the ball like an Alchemist would do to a target when he’s tracking. Somehow, they never miss.” Grimacing, Borin shook his head. “They cut down the King’s Blades like so much meat with those weapons.”

“Any idea of their range?” Lomin asked.

“Three, maybe four thousand feet, maybe more. Some claim a mile.”

“Nonsense,” Lomin said.

“I thought so until I saw one of them kill a dreg from over two thousand feet out. He was running too.”

“How are you certain this one has the same skill?”

“I told you,” Kitesh said, pausing, “my specialty is sight. With soul I can clearly see anything the size of a fist within three thousand feet. For another three hundred, I’m able to pick out a head. I peeked when Kazdra made his move. Didn’t see anyone within my second range, but well beyond, in my third, up on one of those hills, there was movement. A man brought something to his face. It flashed, like a spark from flint. Kazdra dropped a moment later, and then the thunder came.”

Aidah trembled as she listened to the two men. They both sounded as frightened as she felt. To think the earlier peals of thunder had been the death knell for Aran and the others made her swallow. Still clutching Clara’s hand she inched closer to Lomin. “Wh-what do we now? We can’t possibly use the horses.”

“I know. Let me think a moment.”

She wanted to tell him they didn’t have many moments left, but she knew he was well aware of their dilemma. Cold and trembling, she eased back toward Clara and Nerisse. Clara was wet and shaking. Aidah placed her cloak around Clara and drew her close, hoping to lend her some warmth.

“Kitesh, how many men did you see?” Lomin asked.

“Just the one.”

Brow wrinkled, Lomin stroked his beard. His hand stopped. “I’ll need a distraction from one of you that will unveil the enemy’s position when he attacks.” The three armsmen looked at each other, but none spoke up. “I’d prefer a volunteer, but I’ll pick if I must.”

“I guess it should be me, then,” Nartal said. The pudgy-faced man stood. “The third cycle is my specialty. No one here but you can make their nimbus harder than mine. I should be safe against this Farlander’s attack.”

Lomin nodded. “If you make it as far as Kazdra that should be enough.” He stepped up behind Kitesh and eased forward until he could peek around the corner. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Nartal faced outward into the rainstorm. For all of a second Aidah thought she saw a glow appear around his body, and then it was gone. The rain fell harder, but oddly enough it did not touch Nartal. The drops struck a surface at least a foot away from his body. Water ran off the translucent covering like liquid pouring down a windowpane. The water runoff grew farther away from Nartal. He took a deep breath and bounded forward.

He’d gone some ten feet when he jerked, stumbled, and plunged head first into a puddle with a splash of water and mud. Thunder rolled. It echoed for a few moments before dwindling. Nartal did not move. Blood pooled beneath him.

Mouth open, Aidah stared. She never saw what hit the armsman, but he was dead. Dead before anyone could react.

“By the abyss, did anyone else see that?” Kitesh had a hand to his mouth. “That thing cut through his soul as if it was nothing. I’ve seen Nartal deflect swords, spears, arrows, practically anything sent his way. He’s even survived attacks by Blades. Tell me you at least saw where the melder is.”

Lomin shook his head. “It happened too fast.”

Nerisse strode forward. Aidah grabbed at her daughter’s arm, but Nerisse shrugged her off.

“I can create your distraction,” Nerisse said.

“No, Nerisse,” Aidah cried before anyone voiced an opinion. “You can’t do this. I’ve already lost one child. I can’t lose you, too. I will not.”

“Nerisse,” Lomin began, facing her.

“Don’t try to change my mind.” Nerisse’s voice shook for a moment before it firmed, became that of the girl who had ingested Dracodar soul in Garangal. Not once did she glance back at Aidah. “You said it before: these guards are all cyclers. Their abilities are limited. Unlike them, I can see the thread of soul connected to the metal ball and I can use my nimbus to avoid it, as I’m sure you can too. But it’s surprise you’re after, and there’s no way for you to get it if you come into this Farlander’s sight.” Lomin was still hesitant. She pointed at the corpses of Kazdra and Nartal. “Aren’t the dead enough to convince you?”

“Adding your death to theirs would be no better,” Lomin said.

“It would be far worse if I happened to live while my little sister and mother died because I did not try.”

Those words tore at Aidah. She understood how Nerisse felt. And she hated herself for it. She hated her lack of power, her inability to protect her children, her inadequacy.

Lomin reached a hand out and touched Nerisse under her chin, tilting it toward him. “I’ve seen that look before. You won’t change your mind, will you?”

“No, I won’t.”

“Very well.”

Nerisse faced Aidah. Despite the hood, Aidah saw the pain etched in her daughter’s features. Aidah made to speak, but Nerisse placed a single, cold finger over Aidah’s lips. Warm tears trickled down Aidah’s face as she reached out and squeezed Nerisse’s hand. Nerisse smiled before bending to look her sister in the eye.

“We’ll be telling stories and singing songs again tonight,” Nerisse said. “I promise.” Clara nodded.

Nerisse stood, cast aside her cloak, and took two steps backward. She glanced toward the guards at the far wagon. “Make certain you three stay to the far ends,” she shouted. The men shifted accordingly.

As Nerisse closed her eyes, Aidah whispered fervent prayers to the Dominion. Whipped by the wind, the raindrops were like miniature arrows, falling at an angle toward Nerisse, pelting the puddle she stood within. Nerisse’s eyes opened. An intensity radiated within them, unlike any Aidah had ever seen. Nerisse flung her hands out to her sides, palms facing away from her as if commanding someone or something to stop.

The raindrops shifted, slanting in the opposite direction, away from Nerisse. Ripples formed in the water at Nerisse’s feet. An icy prickle swept over Aidah. Beyond Nerisse, something indistinguishable passed through the rain, like a haze, spreading outward until Aidah could no longer see it. Nerisse brought her hands down and pivoted, her side to Aidah and the others. She dashed forward into the open space between the wagons, a blur of leather and woolens.

She’d gone perhaps ten steps before she spun and sprinted in the opposite direction. Thunder rolled, its echo long and clear.

“Three,” Lomin said.

Nerisse shifted again, dodging left, and then right. She leaped forward into a roll, came up covered in mud, and was sprinting again, this time straight toward the far wagon. When she reached it, she slid, feet first, under the bed and out the far side. Three distinct thuds sounded, and wood splinters flew into the air. Without stopping, Nerisse ran back to where she started.

A breath escaped Aidah’s lips, one she hadn’t realized she held. Her heart pounded.

Staring straight ahead, Nerisse waited, face a mask of concentration. She unsheathed her short sword and shifted into the flowing motions of her practice sessions. Her movements grew faster as she circled one way and then the other, sometimes stopping abruptly to change direction.

“Three,” Lomin said again.

Thunder pealed. Echoes followed once more before they dwindled to silence.

Nerisse swung her weapon faster and faster. She moved with such grace and yet such violence that Aidah believed the girl battled against an unseen enemy.

A sudden cry from Nerisse sent a chill through Aidah. A red blot appeared on Nerisse’s shoulder, spreading quickly. Aidah gasped. That arm hung limp. Breathing hard, Nerisse stilled, attention focused beyond the wagons.

“Help her, Lomin,” Aidah pleaded. She wanted so much to run to her daughter’s side, but she knew it meant death.

“He’s gone already,” Kitesh said. Aidah peered around but saw no sign of the Blade. “Left just after he called out the three attacks. For your daughter’s sake I hope he’s fast enough.”

Aidah watched helplessly, trembling hands over her mouth, as Nerisse began another session. The girl’s arm was a bloody mass. Clara clutched the folds of Aidah’s cloak. “Dear Gods, see her through this,” Aidah whispered.

The sword dance began anew, this time slower. Nerisse’s chest rose and fell; water streamed from her hair, now plastered to her forehead. Her expression was wild, desperate. The flawless motions grew sporadic, uncoordinated.

When the thunder bellowed, Aidah’s heart felt as if it would leap from her chest. She counted the distinct sounds before the reverberations. One. Two. Three.

Nerisse leaped to one side, skidded to a halt in the mud, and reversed direction. Halfway through a third dodge she cried out. Something seemed to pick her up and fling her back. The sword went flying. She crashed into the mud with a wet thud and did not move.