The Living Sword 3: The Burden of Legacy

by Pemry Janes

  That was the only reason she had a chance. Even then, if they’d bothered to post a guard or have someone check her from time to time this wouldn’t have worked. Leraine didn’t know why they hadn’t done that.

  It could be carelessness, excessive caution, or they were too busy with other matters. At this point it didn’t matter. She just had to make use of the opportunity.

  So she kept working the rope against the wood even as her arms protested every motion and her body shivered at the pervasive cold radiating from the four corners of the root cellar. If she could see, Leraine was sure a cloud of breath would be visible with every exhale.

  It wouldn’t be long now. She could part her wrists wider and wider every time she pushed down. Not long now.

  ***

  Resting Python stayed close as they walked, not that there was much room in the narrow passage that Little Slip had chosen. “You had questions?”

  “Hmm? Yes, I did. How much has my sister told you of what’s going on here?”

  Got to be careful here. She’s told me things she shouldn’t have.

  “What she could, I think. I don’t know if she’s told me everything she knows, if that makes sense. I know I’m an outsider, people have made that very clear. So I know there are things she can’t tell me.”

  “That is true, but not quite what I asked.” She lowered her voice and got a little closer. “I meant about this business with this murderer. And its accomplices. Did she tell you she suspected a member of her own family? Our sister?”

  She’d been told to stay out of it, but Eurik wasn’t about to tell her that. “I’m not sure what was talked about this morning. I, uh, I was poisoned.”

  “He almost died,” Misthell said. “Very inconsiderate of him. He never thinks of how his death could impact me.”

  “You’d miss him?”

  Eurik already knew where the living sword’s answer would go.

  “Oh yes. Where else will I find a human whose first instinct is to not draw me in a fight? It’ll shave decades off my life if he dies too early. None of you fleshies appreciate just how delicate and vulnerable someone made of metal is.”

  Eurik thought better than to argue. As long as Misthell was talking Resting Python’s ears off she wasn’t asking him uncomfortable questions.

  ***

  Triumph and relief filled Leraine as the rope gave way at last. But while her arms cried out for rest, she couldn’t afford to. The first binding was the hardest, but she wasn’t out of this yet. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her arms around and then out of the squeeze of the binding around her torso.

  Leraine sweated while her teeth chattered and her fingers were numb. She had to push and squeeze hard before she could feel what they were doing. The rope holding her head in place went easier, and the one binding her ankles together took moments.

  But when she tried to push herself to her feet, Leraine found herself falling back and hitting her head against the beam. Lights flashed in front of her eyes and she had the sense that the world was spinning.

  The cold or the dregs of the poison? One won’t get better waiting here, and what time do I have? Anseri said that the mirror demon hadn’t left yet. I’ve got to get out of here and tell someone. If it’s not too late already.

  Using the beam for support, she clambered to her feet. Though there was no light, she closed her eyes anyway as she tried to picture the root cellar in her mind. Her foot on the rope that had bound her legs, that told her what direction she’d been facing. Then the ladder was that way.

  Leraine took careful steps, probing with her foot before committing to the step. She let go of the beam only when she had no other option. She swayed the moment she did, her lips were cracked and dry. Nausea bit the back of her throat. But every step felt a little better. With every step, keeping her balance became easier.

  Unfortunately, so did disappointment as she confirmed that her sister had pulled the ladder up after her. Risking it, she pushed herself up to her tiptoes and reached out, laying her hand flat against the rough wooden planks of the ceiling. Feeling around a bit, she was sure she’d found the hatch. A push confirmed it was barred from the other side.

  Silent, not daring to move, Leraine listened. But nobody came to examine the noise. They’d truly left her here to her own devices.

  With all these supplies. Should have studied under Irelith a few more years, sister.

  What they hadn’t left, though, was a light. That slowed things down as she had to walk slowly. And Leraine still bumped into barrels and crates. Her first goal was the source of the chill pervading the root cellar. And it had a source, she could feel it get colder with every step as she neared one of the cellar’s corners.

  Her fingers encountered a rough metal cage, with something inside. Leraine hissed as she yanked her hand away. It had felt like she’d touched a hot kettle. The finger that had made contact with the cold stone was stiff.

  Leraine trapped the numb finger in her armpit. As warmth and feeling returned back to it, she started pushing some of crates over to the hatch.

  ***

  The Great Hall reminded Eurik of some of the greater houses he’d seen on his travels through Mochedan territory. Except not a single piece of stone had been used in its construction even as it had been built on a grander scale. Three stories, stretching nearly a third of the length of the outer border of the tribe’s territory here in Chappenuioc.

  Mage lights hung here and there to drive away the evening’s growing darkness, illuminating not only the roads but also the painted carvings of every exposed beam and timber of the Great Hall.

  “And that’s why I think I should have been a musical instrument,” Misthell said. “Nobody goes around banging two lutes, or flutes, together. People take care of their instruments. Keep them safe from the elements in cases.”

  “That’s . . . an interesting way of looking at things,” Resting Python said. “But it appears we are here. Come, we’ll use one of the side entrances. It would be best if you weren’t seen entering the Great Hall at a time like this.”

  Resting Python took the lead, guiding them to a small door in a building that had been attached to the Great Hall. Inside, she activated a mage light which she handed over to Little Slip. “Are you sure you want to waste your time babysitting us?”

  “There’s no shame in doing one’s duty. Even when it involves escorting babies. If that is the case, of course,” Little Slip said with a smile.

  Resting Python returned the smile. “Thank you.”

  Little Slip’s smile died out. “For what?”

  “For being so true. Come.” Resting Python laid a hand on Eurik’s back and gave him a gentle push. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

  ***

  The stones clicked as she plucked the cold stone out of its cage and plunked it into the bucket. Even with a rag between the stone and her hand, Leraine felt the cold burning her skin. But this was the last one. They rattled in the wooden bucket as she carried it back over to the spot below the hatch.

  At least she could see something now. Rummaging through the various sacks, baskets, crates, and three barrels in the root cellar she’d found a packet of candles. One of them now sat burning on top of one of those barrels. Compared to a mage light, the illumination it offered was poor, but it beat stumbling around in the dark any day.

  Leraine emptied the bucket on the crate lid she’d laid on the floor and swore she could feel the temperature drop through her boots. She retreated behind the crates she’d piled up high next to it and picked up the broom handle. She set it against the crate on top of the precarious tower.

  Did I estimate the distance right? Will they break? How far will the frost reach?

  A deep breath did not dispel those questions, but it quieted them. A lot could go wrong with this plan. But her next best option was to wait here for someone to check up on her. That would take too long. She might already have run out of time.
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  Her heel dug into the packed dirt as she pushed, only to fall to her knees as the handle’s end slid up and away. Leraine tried again, same result.

  The angle is too steep, maybe it would work with a lighter crate but I need all the weight I can get. Right, then I need to change what I can.

  Wrestling one of the barrels over, Leraine stood on it and tried again trapping the handle’s end in the upper lip of the crate. That took care of the slipping, but when she pushed it wasn’t the crate that moved but the barrel on which she stood.

  Leraine kept her balance as the barrel wobbled back and forth. She only dared to hop off when it had come to a rest. So now she had to brace the barrel.

  At this rate, I’m better off trying to dig my way to another root cellar. The Great Hall is supposed to have several.

  Leraine didn’t dare to use the last barrel off in the corner, so she tried it with sacks of grain and beets. It seemed to work; the barrel only moved a little before the crate slowly toppled forward.

  That’s it, that’s it! Go, go, oh shit, jump!

  Leraine threw herself away. Away from the crates, away from the cold stones shattering. There was a flash, a hiss underneath the dying echoes of cracking stone and splintering wood. It bit her arm and plunged the cellar back into darkness.

  ***

  Resting Python directed them to a broad set of stairs, Little Slip still in the lead. Eurik hesitated at the foot as he felt a ripple through the earth chiri, really more like a shiver.

  “Something the matter?”

  “No,” Eurik said to Resting Python. He didn’t feel anything else. Just that one impact. But it was hard to tell with all this wood in the way. It was like trying to feel with thick gloves, or hear a song with wool stuffed into your ears.

  It could have been anything, really. A blacksmith working his trade, someone setting a heavy load down with little care. Except it had felt . . . cold. That had been an odd sensation. Earth rarely felt warm or cold, not unless you dealt with extreme temperatures. Like the ones in the vicinity of a volcano.

  Eurik looked down the stairs. “Just on edge. I’ve already had two run-ins with the murderer. I guess I’m waiting for the third.”

  “You are not alone,” Resting Python said. “Is that the reason you’re worried for my sister? The demon slayer can handle a single foe.”

  “I suppose.”

  Resting Python huffed. “Come, let’s get up to the roof. You’re worried, yet also the one wasting time.”

  “You are right.” He followed her up the stairs. “And you are not worried, then? Not even a little?”

  “No. Well, perhaps some. My sister can get into a lot of trouble. The embarrassing kind. I remember when we were both children, she would—”

  “Would what, sister?”

  Eurik spun around. They’d just reached the top of the stairs and he only had to take one step back the way they’d come to find Silver Fang standing at the bottom of the steps. The right sleeve of her tunic was mostly gone and the revealed skin a raw red. What remained of the right sleeve looked oddly stiff.

  “Silver Fang!” He went to approach her, but the next thing he knew he found Misthell held against his throat by Resting Python.

  ***

  Leraine knew she’d made a mistake even before Anseri acted. She stood right next to Rock, who carried Misthell in his hand. Her sister drew the living blade and stepped behind him in one smooth motion. Leraine moved, already too late.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. I should have ambushed her, not confronted her.

  Anseri pressed Misthell against Rock’s throat. “Don’t.” She dragged him away from the stairs and angled him slightly away. This obstructed the advance of the other warrior with them. So she wasn’t with Anseri then? “You, don’t move either.”

  “Get your hand off me,” Misthell said. “I’m not your sword. When was the last time you washed that anyway?”

  “Oh, be silent. I don’t know what possessed your makers to create a squeamish weapon,” Anseri said before directing a baleful look in Leraine’s direction. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me how you got out?”

  Not seeing an opening, Leraine could only play for time. “You left me alone in a stocked cellar for hours. Without a guard.” She pinched a bit of her tunic’s shoulder. It snapped off like it was glass. “Of course I got out.” She dropped the piece and took another step up the stairs.

  It hadn’t been so easy. The broken cold stones had turned half the cellar and its contents brittle. Leraine herself had barely avoided a similar fate.

  Her sister dragged the blade to the right, just enough to draw blood. Rock grimaced, but didn’t say anything else. That look of concentration—he was using his magic, then. Or power, or ways, or whatever he wanted to call it.

  Anseri had gotten lucky; any other blade and Rock would already be turning the tables on her. Was their location a hindrance? No stone or earth up here, but how much of a problem was that? And even if Rock could work his magic through the wood, she knew how sharp Misthell was. It might not be enough.

  “Please, don’t do this,” Rock said.

  “Already begging? I’m disappointed. Sister, from your stories I gathered this one had some courage.”

  “More like a reckless disregard for his own safety,” Leraine said. We’re of the same mind, then. Good. “But he’s also soft. He’s begging because he doesn’t want you to die.”

  “Oh, he doesn’t have to worry about that.” Anseri pulled him down the hallway and out of sight.

  Leraine hastened up the stairs to join the other warrior. She held a swordstaff, a reminder that Leraine herself was unarmed at the moment. “Who are you?”

  “Little Slip.” A muscle in Little Slip’s cheek twitched. “From Joyous Bell’s hold. What is going on?”

  They entered the hallway side by side, illuminated by a couple of mage lights resting on little shelves between some of the opened windows.

  The maneuver bought Leraine a moment to think. What to tell her? Joyous Bell was an ally in name, but a restless one. The shame of Anseri’s crimes was bad enough when only Leraine knew. If it spread outside the family, it would do irreparable damage. But was it a question of if, or when?

  “I can’t help but think you’re not taking me seriously, sister,” Anseri said. “Do you really think I won’t kill your new toy?”

  Leraine stopped, and so did Little Slip. “No, I think you’re not above murdering someone by your own hand,” Leraine said.

  Anseri glanced out the window and backed away farther down the hallway. “Please. This boy might be the child of People, but he’s not one himself. You can’t murder an outsider.”

  “Says the scaleless bitch that happily worked with one.” Her teeth clicked as Leraine cursed her quick tongue. Too quick. Little Slip’s gasp told her the other woman had put the clues together.

  Anseri looked out again, stopped, and Leraine knew they’d run out of time. She didn’t stop to think, to call out, she charged forward and everything happened in the blink of an eye.

  Rock twisted and elbowed Anseri, Anseri sliced and pushed Rock. A line of blood splattered over the waxed floor. Rock fell, Resting Python stumbled back.

  Leraine snarled and almost impaled herself on Misthell as her sister brought the living sword back up. “You’re not—”

  Resting Python struggled with her breathing, but her fingers were sure, her limbs steady. She drew a dagger and threw it, but not at Leraine. Little Slip had stopped to check on Rock, crouched on one knee with the swordstaff for extra support.

  “I’m all right,” he said, pushing her away.

  Little Slip looked up just in time to catch the dagger in the throat. She stumbled back and collapsed. Turning back to her sister, Leraine caught her vaulting out the window and into the darkness of the night.

  Chapter 30

  At an End

  Eurik caught Little Slip as her weapon slipped from her grasp a
nd clattered to the wooden floor. Her wide eyes stared into his, asking if this had happened. He batted away her attempt to touch the blade still stuck in her throat. “Don’t touch that.” He wanted to promise that she’d be fine, but he didn’t know if he could make good on that.

  “Is she . . .?”

  “I got this,” he said to Silver Fang. “Go after her.” Resting Python had Misthell. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to focus on this.

  “Right. I’ll get him back.”

  He heard her follow Resting Python out the window, but didn’t look away from Little Slip. She fought for breath, tried to go for the dagger again. He stopped her with his left arm, and lightly touched the dagger with the other. The earth chiri within would let him explore the damage it had done.

  Missed the arteries. Obstructed airway. Point buried into the spine bones. They had an official name, but he’d never bothered to learn those. Much of the medical treatises he’d read didn’t seem to pair with what his own senses had revealed. Didn’t puncture the bone. Obviously. She can still use her limbs. I can help her.

  He smiled. “You’re going to be okay.”

  But would Leraine?

  The smile died and he got to work quickly. He’d built up the chiri in his body already, and now he sent it flooding into Little Slip and the dagger. Move the dagger, repair the bone, slide it out farther so that air can pass easily to the lungs again. Little Slip’s breathing grew easier. Now came the hard part, sealing the wound. Separate the point of the dagger and leave it in the wall of the windpipe, remold it so that it forms a seamless part of the pipe. Not too fast.