Duskfall (29 page)

Knot severed the rope that bound his wrists. His final cut was too strong; he felt the sting as the blade cut through the rope and into his flesh. No matter. Knot took the noose from around his neck and swung it towards the Son closest to him. The heavy knotted rope struck the soldier in the face, giving Knot enough time to weave in and hit him hard in the throat. The man dropped to the ground. For a split second Knot considered not taking the sword the Son carried at his belt. He had caused so much death already. Why should he cause more? What right did he have?

Then a strange sense of longing took over, and the sword was in his hand. Knot’s own blood was wet and warm between his palms and the sword grip. He turned in time to see two more Sons moving towards him, swords up; they stood between Knot and Olan, who was still bound. Knot advanced quickly, parrying one man’s cut and stabbing the other Son in the groin.

So easy
, Knot thought to himself, not without pleasure.

With two more strokes the second man fell, and Knot rushed to Olan, cutting the man’s bonds and severing the noose around his neck.

The snow was falling more heavily now, and through it Knot saw more Sons approaching. Others were looking around wildly at the chaos. Bodies littered the gallows, most of them Sons of Canta. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw one of the Goddessguard’s shields flying through the air. He blinked. No one could throw a shield that fast. It reminded him of his fight with the two strangers in Cineste.

A group of City Watchmen stood below the gallows, trying to keep the crowd from panicking. In the back of his mind, Knot wondered whether the man who sent him the letter, Captain Rudak, was among them. He still might be able to find the man.

Assuming, of course, he survived whatever
this
was.

“What in Oblivion is happening?” Olan shouted.

“Don’t know,” Knot shouted back. “Must be someone else here who doesn’t like these executions. We use it to our advantage while we can.”

“The enemy of my enemy…” Olan began.

Knot shrugged. He’d never fancied old proverbs. “See to your wife,” he said. “I’ll get my girl.”

Knot turned and rushed towards the four Sons of Canta that stood between him and Astrid.

* * *

Cinzia pushed against the Goddessguards, Kovac among them, as they shepherded her, Nayome, and the other priestesses off the gallows. Cinzia was still disoriented. One moment she had been about to address the crowd—she had been about to denounce the Cantic Arm of Inquisition in front of the entire city of Navone, for Canta’s sake—and then someone had screamed, and the Circle had erupted into chaos. Now, Cinzia knew only one thing.

She had to get to Jane.

Nayome’s claim that she would fake her sister’s death was irrelevant. The woman could have been bluffing, and even if she had not, Cinzia did not know how much longer her sister would last. Sons swarmed around Jane, and a simple pull of the lever would open the trapdoor beneath her. Cinzia was about to turn and tell Kovac as much when she saw a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. Then someone tackled her, and they both crashed to the wooden boards of the gallows. Snow had begun to accumulate, but not enough to soften her fall. The cold wetness seeped through her robes.

Cinzia shouted, pummeling her attacker with her fists, until she realized it was her own Goddessguard. Behind Kovac, Cinzia saw both Mother Joyca and a Son who had been standing in front of her pierced together by a long, barbed spear.

“We need to get to Jane,” Kovac said, but Cinzia could only stare at the matron she had known for years—now dead, killed in such a brutal manner.

Cinzia allowed Kovac to lead her away, her hands shaking.

“Yes,” she whispered, unable to stop the shaking. “Jane.”

* * *

Winter screamed at the power coursing through her. There seemed to be no more pain, or joy for that matter. Only
power
, boiling and raging. After what seemed an eternity of basking, clinging, suffering, enduring, she finally brought herself back to the present.

Her eyes snapped open.

Knot was on the gallows, fighting a group of Sons. She had to get to him. That was all that mattered.

She walked towards the gallows, her
tendra
working furiously around her. She smashed Sons of Canta easily beneath her power, flinging them against each other and sending their weapons in vicious arcs of death. A strong, familiar taste filled her mouth, and she realized Nash must be using his
tendra
as well. The crowd around her was panicking, screaming, cursing, gathering up children and fleeing the Circle. Watchmen tried to keep order but failed. Winter walked calmly through the crowd towards Knot. Two of the Sons who had been attacking him were down, and Knot danced beautifully between two more.

Winter reached two
tendra
out through the falling snow, picking up the Sons that stood in Knot’s way. She raised them up, watching as they flew into the air higher than any building in the city. They screamed, arms flailing, and Winter almost lost sight of them in the low clouds and falling snow. Sight didn’t matter, though; she could feel them struggling in her
tendra.
She smashed them together. She heard them collide with a faint crash, saw a small cloud of red, and then let them drop. The two Sons crashed onto the gallows, their dead weight breaking through the floorboards to the ground beneath.

Knot was rushing to the vampire. What business he had with such a monster, Winter didn’t know, but she saw a group of Sons running towards him, weapons drawn. With one
tendron
she tore off a man’s helmet, and with another she whipped a spear from another’s grip and stabbed it through the helmetless man. Another
tendron
lifted one of the Sons off the ground, and yet another snatched a shield and flung it back into the group. The men screamed, unsure what was attacking them. Winter threw the spear away into a cluster of men in the distance. Goddessguards, Sons of Canta, or perhaps civilians, Winter wasn’t sure.

She did it anyway. Anything to get to Knot.

Winter had no idea how many
tendra
she was using. She was slowly discovering more and more of them, acting almost of their own accord. Despite the power coursing through her, she suddenly felt very weak. Small, within the power that she held.

Someone touched her shoulder, and she nearly whipped one of her
tendra
around to defend herself before she realized it was Lian. His mouth moved. He was speaking. Winter shook her head. She couldn’t hear him.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to give up now.

* * *

“Shall I stop her?” Nash asked, blinking snow out of his eyes.

Kali’s lips were pursed. “No. This may be exactly what we need. Protect her, cover her blind spots. I’m going after Lathe.”

Nash nodded, but her tone worried him.

He turned to Lian as Kali slipped off through the crowd.

“Help me protect her,” Nash shouted. Most of the crowd had already fled, but the fighting continued on the gallows, while Winter picked off Sons and Goddessguards one by one. She was using more
tendra
than Nash had seen anyone use in his life. He counted at least two dozen, almost certainly more.

If anyone was the Harbinger, it was this woman.

“She won’t listen to me!” Lian shouted.

Winter seemed on the cusp of losing herself. All they could do was protect her and hope no one realized she was the source of the chaos. Nash dreaded what such power was doing to her. She used her power bluntly, brutally, like a child. There was no finesse, no artistry. But Winter didn’t need it.

Winter flung a shield into a crowd of civilians bunched up on one of the streets that led from the Circle. Nash reached out a
tendron
, stopping the shield before it sliced into the bystanders. Just because Kali enjoyed chaos didn’t mean he had to watch innocent people die.

He looked back at Winter. Her eyes were wide and dark. She walked forward slowly, her arms at her sides. Snow fell all around her, large flakes stuck in her hair and on her loose tiellan dress.

In that moment, Nash wondered exactly what manner of woman they’d found, and realized that he was frightened of her.

* * *

Knot reached Astrid, stumbling over the shattered gallows and nearly slipping on the snow and blood. He had no idea what was going on, but he was sure it was connected with the man and woman who’d attacked him in Cineste. Objects levitating, things flying impossibly through the air. Had to be connected.

But, as long as it was working to his advantage, he’d milk every second of it.

“Astrid!” he called. He approached the heavy cloth cautiously, unsure what condition the girl was in underneath. Clouds nearly covered the sky, but the sun still shone dimly in the west. He didn’t think the girl could come out safely yet.

Knot heard a small, muffled moan.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice quieter. The heat of battle raged within him, kept him warm against the chill of the falling snow, but as he lifted the cloth enough to see inside, he suddenly felt very cold.

Astrid was barely clothed, gagged, her arms and legs manacled to heavy chains. Knot’s left eye twitched.

Thin wooden stakes, each as long as Knot’s forearm but no thicker than his little finger, pierced the girl’s limbs. The bloody points protruded from her arms and legs, two in each. Four more stakes had been driven through her torso, forming a diamond around the girl’s heart. Dried blood crusted the wounds, staining her arms and legs a dark crimson.

Knot pushed the horror away and knelt underneath the heavy cloth, next to Astrid. The sun was still setting, and he’d seen what direct contact with light would do to the girl. He made sure the cloth covered them both.

He removed the gag and saw tear-stained cheeks. Knot hadn’t realized vampires were capable of crying.

“What can I do?” Knot asked.

Astrid looked at him, her eyes wide, devoid of the sparkle that he’d grown so used to seeing.

“Take them out,” Astrid rasped. “Idiot.”

Knot reached for the closest stake, which pierced her upper arm through the muscle, and pulled it out quickly. He felt the wood scrape against bone. He tossed it away. Astrid flinched, her face contorted with pain. Knot paused.

“Keep going,” she said through clenched teeth. “Take them all.”

Knot obliged, pulling each stake out as quickly as possible. Blood spurted with each removal. All Astrid did after the third or fourth was sob.

When it was done Astrid’s eyes were closed, her body shaking. Then, Knot pulled her in and embraced her.

She curled up, the chains clinking as her hands clutched at him. Knot felt her body shake as she sobbed, her face buried in his shoulder. He heard the screams from outside, the muffled voices and sounds of fighting, but for once the itch to join the battle seemed distant, inconsequential. He sat there awkwardly for a moment, letting her cry, and felt the slightest resonance, a strange familiarity.

And then a shout.

“Get to the vampire, before the sun sets. Uncover her, quickly!”

Astrid’s body stiffened. Knot released her, and for a moment could only stare at her wounds. They’d healed. Raw scars remained, but there was no bleeding. The flesh had knit itself back together.

“Go,” Astrid whispered. “Tell me when the sun has set. Then we’ll show these bastards exactly what sort of daemon they’ve captured.”

Her eyes had lost all vulnerability. The green glow was fierce and bright.

Knot slipped out from under the cloth into the falling snow and the bright orange light of sunset and battle.

* * *

Cinzia finally reached Jane, still standing on the gallows. The Goddessguard behind Jane was dead, a long dagger protruding from his neck.
Did Jane do that?
Cinzia wondered fearfully. Her sister was still bound and gagged, but there was no other explanation.

Jane turned to look at her. Cinzia removed the gag and saw that Jane was smiling sadly.

“Behold,” she said, “Canta’s salvation.” Something blurred into a group of Sons directly in front of them, and a spurt of blood shot straight up in the air.

“Jane,” Cinzia said as Kovac cut her sister’s bonds, “are you all right?” It was some consolation that Nayome had been telling the truth; Kovac removed the noose around Jane’s neck, and with it the harness that was supposed to have saved her life.

Jane didn’t look at her, instead gazing out at the Circle Square. Most citizens had fled, although every street was still bottlenecked with people. Others, Cinzia wasn’t sure who, struggled with a group of Sons near the gallows.

“How terrible is Her wrath,” Jane quoted, wiping snow from her face, “and how sorrowful Her enemies.” Cinzia recognized the line from Nazira’s writings.

Then shouts from close by on the gallows forced Cinzia to tear her eyes away from her sister.

To their right, Olan was fighting off two Sons of Canta. Others ran towards him. His wife, Nara, was still bound, a noose hanging loosely around her neck.

Her Goddessguard attacked, sword swinging. Then, just as Cinzia neared Nara, she heard a faint click. She watched as the woman fell through the trapdoor.

Cinzia gasped. Behind her, Jane screamed. And, above everything, Olan howled.

Cinzia heard a faint crunch as the rope went taut.

* * *

Winter continued slowly towards the gallows, everything around her happening in slow motion.

On the dais she heard a scream and a cry of anguish near one of the ropes. She watched as a woman dropped through the wooden floor. A patch of powdery snow fell with her, floating to the ground. From Winter’s perspective the woman seemed to be lowered to the ground slowly, as if angels held her arms. But angels or not, the drop would be fatal. The rope went taut. One of Winter’s
tendra
flung a whirring sword at the rope, cutting the woman down, but Winter knew the gesture was too late.

On the gallows, a Goddessguard pointed in Winter’s direction. Moments later a hail of arrows came towards her, and she was vaguely aware of Nash heaving a group of shields before them with his
tendra
, swiping the shafts away. The arrows floated through the air, falling like feathers. More Goddessguards rushed Winter but she ignored them. Nash would deal with them.