Duskfall (31 page)

Her body was still. He brushed her dark hair from her face, slick with sweat and snow. His hand left a dirty smear on her forehead.

“Winter, please,” Knot whispered. He touched her neck, and felt a weak pulse. She was alive.

What was she doing here? Had she followed him?

“There’s a lot to explain,” Lian said. “Is she…?”

Knot realized he’d been asking the questions out loud.

“Not dead,” Knot said. “But we need to get her somewhere safe. Quickly.”

A voice spoke, accompanied by a clanking of chains.

“Next time you’re trapped in a pile of rubble, remind me not to help you.” Astrid stumbled towards them, dragging her chains. “Ready to leave this city, nomad? I think it’s caused us enough trouble.” She cocked her head. “Ah, you’ve acquired some baggage. Well, the wider the company, the wider the cheer, I always say. Where are we taking this one?”

Knot was relieved to see that Astrid’s scars were now nothing but smooth skin. Her hands were hanging limply at her side, and her whole body seemed to sag with weariness, which surprised Knot. He’d never seen her tired before.

Looking around, he realized that they were practically alone in the Circle Square that had been packed with people less than an hour before. But there were bodies everywhere. Mostly Cantic Sons and Goddessguards, but many wore common clothing. Navone’s city center had become a field of slaughter.

Knot stood, holding Winter in his arms, Lian limping beside him. He saw Kovac, his priestess, and another woman he recognized—her sister Jane—walking towards him hesitantly. Knot couldn’t see Olan anywhere.

“We must find Cinzia’s family,” Kovac said wearily. The Goddessguard, covered in gore, looked as exhausted as Knot felt.

Knot glanced at Astrid. “You aren’t hungry, are you?”

“I can feed later. You all are lucky I feel like a building fell on me, otherwise I’d be eating one of you right now.”

Kovac eyed the girl warily. Knot wasn’t going to have that. “She’s with me,” Knot said. “If I’m coming with you, she’s coming, too.” He nodded back at Lian. “So is he.”

Kovac shrugged. “Safety in numbers.” The man looked too exhausted to argue. “We must leave before the Crucible’s forces regroup.”

“Or before the Watch decides to make an appearance,” Knot muttered.

“You’ve made quite a few friends,” Astrid said. Her eyes glowed brightly, now that night had fallen. “I should leave you more often. You’d be the most popular man in Khale in no time.”

Knot looked back at Kovac. “You have a place in mind?”

Astrid sighed. “You’re ignoring me? I almost
died
.”

Kovac nodded. “Same place we met earlier. The complex under the Oden house.”

“Lead the way.” Knot nodded back at Lian. “He may need a hand.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Astrid said. “I was only tortured, stuck full of holes, and then assaulted by an entire building. Nothing serious.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lian said, his voice hard. “Worry about yourselves.”

Kovac regarded Lian for a moment, then turned to Cinzia and Jane. The two women looked shaken, but otherwise unhurt.

Someone ran towards them, and Knot tensed. “It’s Olan,” Kovac said.

Olan looked as weary and ragged as the rest of them, his face swollen from the beating he had taken, his shirt bloody where the crossbow bolt had pierced him. His spectacles were gone. Knot noticed clean paths running through the dirt and grime on the man’s face. The only prisoner not accounted for was the man’s wife. Olan just shook his head.

Knot followed Kovac out of the Circle, looking down at the burden in his arms every few moments just to reassure himself that she was real.

W
INTER AWOKE TO THE
sound of men talking and the loud, painful echoes in her own head.

She opened her eyes, but quickly shut them again. Everything was so
bright
. Light thrust spears of pain through her eyes. Winter lay there for a moment, eyelids squeezed together, breathing deeply. With an effort she tried to sit up, then gasped and fell back.

Her whole body ached. Every muscle in her body felt like a tenderized deepfish before the yearly fish fry in Pranna.

She moaned, but the sound came out more of a gasp. And, in that moment, as the pain coursed through her with all the fire of
faltira
, she remembered. Navone. Knot. Frost. The violence.

Murderer.

Winter did not know if the voice was her own or something else entirely, but it rocked her soul and shook her very bones.

Murderer
, the voice whispered. And suddenly Winter was there, in the Circle Square, watching people die all around her.

You did not watch.

Winter gasped, trying to sit up again. She had to get up, she had to move. She couldn’t stay here, alone with the voice. She had carried a dull, aching guilt from what happened in the alleyway in Cineste, but after her conversation with Kali, that guilt had faded. Now, a new, very different guilt flooded through her, smothered her. And, this time, she knew she deserved every bit of it.

You will never be the same
.

Winter cried out as the pain from her muscles and her head paled to this new, visceral agony. A frost crystal could make the pain go away. She wished she had one more than anything on the Sfaera. If only for a moment, it would be worth it.

Knot.

Where is he?
Winter opened her eyes again, slowly, ignoring the pain. The only light, she realized—the light that exploding across her vision—was that of a small fire near her. She was indoors, in some kind of cave. The fire burned in a crude mantle, cut roughly from the rock around it. The fire’s heat kissed her body, and again she ached for frost.

Winter’s mind was foggy. She craned her neck, looking away from the fire, and discerned shapes in the distance, illuminated by torchlight. She almost succeeded in sitting up, the muscles in her back, neck, and abdomen straining. She had barely raised her head when pain overwhelmed her and she fell back again. Her eyes burned with the sharp threat of tears.
I’m stronger than this. I don’t need tears anymore.

Winter squinted at the shapes. Two of them seemed to be talking to each other; she could hear their voices incoherently above the ringing in her ears.

Kali and Nash. They had found her. She strained to hear what they were saying.

“They made it through the gate this morning. I am sure of it.”

“Eward was with them? He has a tendency to do what he pleases.”

“I know. But he was with them, as was Father, and Mother, and the rest of the children, and Olan. Only you, Kovac, and I remain in the city.”

“Why are we still here at all? We should have left with them; we need to watch over them.”

“Someone else watches over them, with greater power than either of us. What of the Crucible? Did you discover anything?”

“She leaves this afternoon, back to Triah.”

There was a pause.

“Just the Crucible?”

“Everyone. The remaining Goddessguard, the Sons, they are all returning to Triah.”

“Goddess rising. They have given up?”

“I would not assume that. But they are leaving—between the vampire and what happened in the Circle Square yesterday, they have realized there is much more afoot here than heresy. We should take our blessings as they come.”

“It is good that the family are out. We must delay our own departure; we do not want to leave at the same time as the Crucible.”

There was something odd about the voices; they certainly didn’t belong to Nash and Kali. It was two women who spoke, though neither sounded familiar.

Suddenly Winter’s body convulsed and she coughed with pain. The two shadows in her vision turned to look at her, and one of them rushed to her side.

“It’s all right,” a voice said, a whisper against the sharp ringing in her head. “You’re safe. Relax and lie back. You need to rest.”

The woman’s blond hair was tied behind her head, her blue eyes bright. She motioned towards the other woman, who walked away.

“Where…” Winter began.

“Safe,” the woman said. “I am Jane. Your friends are here. My sister went to fetch them…”

As she spoke, someone else approached. It was Lian.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

“Knot,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if he understood her; she could barely understand herself.

“You need rest. We can talk later.”

“Knot.”

The look Lian gave her told her he understood exactly what she had said. Lian frowned.

Winter heard a new voice. New, but familiar.

“Is she awake?”

“Barely,” Lian said. “You should let her rest before you see her.”

And then he was there, just as she had seen him in the Circle Square, his face covered in a short beard, hair grown long and unwashed. He looked down at her, his calm eyes the color of burnished oak.

“Knot,” she whispered, her voice a hollow rasp.

He gently placed the back of his hand on her forehead. “Don’t need to speak right now. Lian’s right. Save your strength. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

He bent down, and she felt his lips on her forehead. Rough and chapped against her skin.

Winter felt her thoughts slipping away as exhaustion enveloped her. Her eyes closed, but she almost smiled at the sound of his voice. Hearing it somehow made her pain less.

As she drifted off to sleep, Winter had a sudden panicked feeling. She feared what she would find in her dreams. She feared what she would see, and, most of all, she feared what she had done.

You will never be the same
, the voice said.

She knew the voice was right.

K
NOT RUBBED HIS FRESHLY
shaven face as he looked up at the Roden Gate. The sky was clearer today, but ankle-deep snow had accumulated overnight. He pulled his cloak around him more tightly, feeling the cold air on his face. He’d shaved and cut his hair short that morning. Most of the city had been present at the massacre yesterday; being recognized as one of the people on the gallows would do him no good.

What had happened in the Circle Square yesterday seemed to play over and over in his mind. When the woman had incapacitated Astrid and confronted him, he’d assumed that she—or whoever was with her—was behind all of the destruction, the weapons and people hurtling through the air. But then the fountain globe had smashed into her. That could not have been a mistake; Knot could not believe the woman had simply been an unintentional casualty.

But if she had not been behind the massacre, who was?

The Crucible and her force were supposedly moving out of the southwest gate, abandoning the city after what had happened. And even though Knot was at the opposite corner of the city, he was still putting himself at risk. He wouldn’t have left the Odens’ strange cavern at all—wouldn’t have left Winter—if it hadn’t been important.

“What do you want?”

Knot turned to the Borderguard who had just addressed him. The soldier was young, barely eighteen, and narrowed his eyes as if Knot was going to steal everything he owned. “Looking for Captain Rudak,” Knot said, ignoring the boy’s rudeness. The entire city had been on edge before the inexplicable massacre in the Circle; now, everyone was downright paranoid.

“Who’s asking?”

Knot frowned. The boy didn’t know much about dealing with civilians. Either that, or the kid was having a particularly bad day.

“Madzin,” Knot said, using the name the captain had addressed him with in the letter. “Tell him Madzin is looking for him.”

“Just Madzin?”

Knot’s frown deepened. “Just Madzin.”

The young Borderguard turned towards the Roden Gate without another word.

* * *

Half an hour later the young man returned, his demeanor markedly different.

The boy bowed. “Come with me, sir. Captain Rudak has been expecting you.”

Knot raised an eyebrow. He suspected the boy’s attitude change had to do with Rudak’s authority, and his opinion of this Madzin. Knot hoped he could live up to this view enough to convince Rudak to help him.

The young Borderguard led Knot through the Roden Gate and into the snowy field between the Roden Gate and the Blood Gate. Their footsteps crunched in the freshly fallen snow. No plants, trees, or crops of any kind grew in the field; it had likely been salted. Khalic soldiers wanted a clear shot at enemy troops, should the Blood Gate ever fall.

Knot looked up at the Blood Gate. The structure was truly a feat of architecture. The space between the cliffs was much narrower here than at the Roden Gate. Knot knew, in the way he knew so much that he could not explain, that the wall was nearly twenty rods high, far taller than the walls of Navone, and five rods thick. At either end of the wall stood two towers, each connecting directly with the cliffs that loomed over the Sorensan Pass.

Several Borderguards in plate armor and helmets stood in front of the large oak-and-iron gate. With them stood a captain. Knot recognized the man’s rank by the red talons embroidered on his tabard. He wore only chain mail for protection—and the man was
huge
. Even without a helmet he stood at least a head above all the other Borderguards, and nearly twice as broad. The man’s girth seemed a mix of muscle and fat. While the strength of such people was obvious, their dexterity could often catch enemies off guard. The man was young, too. Twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-eight. One didn’t rise to the rank of a captain so quickly by winning pastry-eating contests.

The captain smiled. “Madzin, my friend. It has been too long.”

Knot nodded in return, and tried to calm the feeling of excitement rising within him. Here was a man who genuinely knew him, the old him. The
real
him. “I received your letter. Thank you for meeting with me, Captain.”

Captain Rudak raised an eyebrow. “Businesslike as always.” Rudak motioned Knot to follow. “Let us retire to someplace more private.”

The huge man walked to the corner of the Blood Gate, where the tower met the cliff. Rudak removed a key from his belt and opened a small wooden door, almost imperceptible, in the wall. He turned back to Knot, still smiling. The man’s hair was curly and long, and a thick beard covered his face. He shook strands of hair from his eyes.