Scion of Dragonclaw (Nysta Book 8)

by Lucas Thorn

  Swallowed.

  Died.

  “Shit,” the second snarled. Lunged, broom swinging in both hands. She caught the flash of steel within the bristles. Several long shanking spikes buried in the straw. Aimed for her body.

  Other two were sprinting up behind. Breaths snatching air.

  One with axe.

  The other raising twin knives.

  Crude knives. Heavy.

  Made for chopping rather than cutting.

  She liked the blades immediately and could feel their souls cooing as she rolled across the ground away from the makeshift spear and uncoiled like a snake in front of the axeman.

  The axe thundered close enough to make the ice in her belly lurch.

  But not enough to slow her down.

  Attrition of a Pearl danced into fist from its sheath on her thigh.

  Adjusted grip. Streaked upward.

  Steel arced, razor edge captured a thin line of magelight before the curved tip tore through shirt and into guts.

  She didn’t have time to rip it free.

  But she used the blade to swing around him, twisting savagely as she whirled. The spear, aimed at her back, found his chest, right of centre. He blinked into the eyes of the man who’d killed him. “Tolen?”

  “Dark Lord fuck me,” Tolen blurted. Held the spear firmly in his friend’s body. Unable to pull it free. Shock leaving him still as stone. “I’m sorry. I was-”

  Shake Before Opening snickered in the dark.

  And Tolen dropped. Handle protruding from forehead bone. Gush of red cascaded down nose. Foamed across lips.

  Splash to ground.

  Vivid reflections shattered across wet surface.

  The elf didn’t stop. Needed to move fast. The throw had left her side open to the twin blades of the final would-be killer.

  “Bastards,” he shouted. “Where the fuck are you?”

  And her spine shivered.

  Boots slapping stone.

  They were coming. All sides.

  How many?

  Dozens.

  The elf snarled. “Shit.”

  “You’re dead,” he hissed.

  “You ain’t living so long yourself.”

  And she leapt on him.

  A cat, claws slashing as A Flaw in the Glass flared and The Ugly flashed.

  Their knives met.

  A clash of steel which sent sparks hopping.

  Nysta twisted her hands, but he knew that trick and countered by pulling his arms back and kicking out. Boot slammed into her gut. Heel first.

  It hurt.

  The old man crowed; “They’re comin’! Nixes comin’ to get ya, ya filthy Shiv! Buddug! Buddug! Yeah, Ice Nixes!”

  They swept apart, two howling figures of hate buried beneath the city’s swollen anger. He twirled the knives in his hands.

  She darted forward. Knew she didn’t have time.

  The boots were getting closer. Someone shouted.

  Someone else screamed. Scream of pain.

  She didn’t look back.

  But he did.

  And that was all it took. She was in his arms. An unwanted lover sending feverish messages deep into belly on claws of metal and rage. On the last of a dozen, she twisted A Flaw in the Glass, cutting through the final strings of shredded flesh and spilling what remained of his life at her feet.

  Stood over him, heaving and dark.

  Eyes boiling. Watching the glittering thread of orange flare before her as if responding to the kill. It writhed against the ground, calling her onward.

  A silent plea to follow.

  And the boots thundered in her ears.

  She turned at last, knives at ready.

  Ready to kill.

  And found a wall of Ice Nixes thrusting out of the shadows. Hatchets. Knives. Shortswords. Clubs. Iron knuckles and makeshift claws.

  Their faces tattooed with intricate black lines across forehead and eyelids. Feral urchins of the street, though some claimed to have come down from Vantro Deep.

  Ice Nixes.

  At their head, a slim woman dressed in furs and at least a dozen necklaces of bone and shell. Young. Lips coated in cracked white clay. Smudged down her cheeks and back of hands.

  A helm on her head with long curling horns. Carried a gnarled wooden staff topped with a goat’s skull wrapped in dirty rag. Crimson star painted on its forehead.

  The woman held a hand up and the Ice Nixes froze in place.

  Statues of death. Waiting.

  “I am Buddug,” the woman said. Voice a soft rasp. “I lead the Ice Nixes until the Queen returns.”

  “Nysta.” Flat. “No one leads me. I go wherever I fucking want.”

  “That’s your belief,” Buddug said. Pulled lips back into a cold grin. “And it is wrong. You are led on a string. I see it. I see it glowing ahead of you. Fed on the hearts of your enemies. You will slay them. But you will find only the Shadowed Halls waits for you at the end. These men at your feet. They are not us. They are Bonebreakers. They speak among themselves. Words of Hunt. They seek an elf. An elf with a scar on her cheek. You. And they know your name. Many more come for you.”

  “That’ll make ‘em easy to find.”

  “You are Shiv. We have no war with Shivs. We do not want war with Shivs. Filth says you are free meat. His words say this. But his eyes lie. We killed all Bonebreakers in our turf. We do this for you. So, you go to Filth. You tell him Buddug has thought much on what he said. Tell him we want another meeting.”

  “Sure.” The elf let her arms relax, but didn’t sheath the blades. “I’ll tell him.”

  “There’s more Bonebreakers ahead. Waiting to cut off your fingers. Then sell you to one of their slave ships.” She spat the taste of the words from her mouth. Then jerked her head in another direction. “You go two streets that way. It’s off our turf. We won’t hunt you.”

  The elf nodded. “I’m going. But I’ll be back tomorrow. Need to pick up a few things from Powell’s.”

  “We know Powell’s.”

  “I’ll be out of your turf in two days. That okay with you?”

  “You tell Filth. We want another meeting.”

  “Fine.”

  Buddug grinned.

  “It is a bargain.” Shook her head of long red curls and waved the staff at the sky. “He thinks he can tame Chaos with your hand tonight. She’ll not bend for him, though. She will never bend. She breaks.”

  “Sounds like something I can relate to,” the elf said, retrieving her blades.

  Took those of the dead Bonebreaker, too.

  Cleaned quick before tucking them away.

  Looked back into the simmering madness of Buddug’s gaze.

  “Kala’s seat has been empty too long, Nysta. You will serve well.”

  The elf growled, reflex pushing words up her throat. “I serve no one.”

  Buddug let out a shriek of laughter.

  It rang through the streets like a banshee wail.

  Then was cut short with a hard rap of her staff against the ground. Echoes raced like bats in the dark.

  Buddug’s eyes glowed with an occult frenzy the elf found disturbing.

  White lips shivered before they moved again. To rasp; “Tonight, you send a spark into the jaws of darkness. You think it won’t be noticed. But it will. Her eyes will open. Her heart will beat. Her ancient breath will freeze the sky again.”

  “Sure.” The elf tensed. “Whatever you say.”

  “Whatever I say? My words are not my own.” Buddug let a dark chuckle drift between them. “Run. Follow the rope which seeks to hang you. Run, Nysta. Before the Rat’s children chew on your heels. Run. Run. Run!”

  The elf sprinted.

  Heart hammering in her ears, though she didn’t know why. Buddug’s words sent shivers down her spine. Hard enough for the worms to rise from the quiet dark and writhe uncomfortably across the back of her neck. Familiar sensation of insects.

  Crawling.

  Laughter of the Ice Nixes booming in
her ears. Guffaw each stolen step.

  Half expected at any moment to feel an axe crunch into her back.

  Instead, they kept laughing.

  Even when she’d darted up an alley to get away from their mocking gazes, she could hear them.

  Laughing.

  Almost tripping her up as she ran.

  Breath punching in and out.

  Hairs on her skin standing on end. Electric and afraid. Afraid of something she couldn’t put name to.

  Buddug’s scream chased hard. “Keep running! Run, Nysta. And when you’re tired of running, seek the Warp! She’ll be waiting. She’s always waiting…”

  “Bullshit,” the elf spat. Tried to push the heat of courage back into her bones. To warm the chill which wound around tight nerves. “You won’t want me coming back a-roamin’.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  She left Ice Nix turf in a shower of blood.

  A torrent of red spraying from the slit throat of a Bonebreaker wandering unfamiliar streets. He thudded face down in his own gore.

  A couple of Alley Rats nosed the edge of his death, waiting for the sound of her boots to fade before exploring their unexpected bounty. One watched her go, ratlike eyes glinting fierce.

  But not as fierce as her own.

  She turned a corner and three Bonebreakers blocked the alley up ahead. A fourth sat on a curb, legs stuck out and a club across knees. Yawning.

  “Is that her?”

  “That’s-”

  She was into them. A ball of rabid steel. Relentless wave after wave of cuts which took them down so fast the sound of their dying crashed into a single bloodcurdling scream.

  Tearing A Flaw in the Glass free of the last, she squinted ahead.

  Golden glow of the thread called her onward. Curling out of view down a street whose magelights stuttered and gasped to give pockets of light. Splintered shadows dipped and ducked across the walls.

  The elf licked her lips. Heart beating hungry rhythm, she didn’t hesitate.

  Went down a small stack of rocky stairs and vaulted a stack of empty crates. They shifted under her weight, but didn’t fall.

  Doorway to her right burst open as another Bonebreaker flew from an alcove on her left. Came barrelling into her so fast she only had to hold her arm steady for The Ugly to shear through ribs. He choked a moist cry, eyes bulging in sockets as they looked from her cruel grin to the determined fear of his partner, who’d been too loud coming out the door.

  Stained black hair, cut at the shoulder. Framed his face like a hood.

  A mouth too wide.

  The elf spun with the dying corpse still attached to her knife. Rolled deftly over his hunched form and landed in a crouch. A Flaw in the Glass spat venomous light and the elf had time to bring it up fast. Clang of metal as hatchet met enchanted blade.

  The Bonebreaker didn’t have a second weapon.

  Just a fist.

  Which wasn’t worth the elf’s time, so she took the clumsy shot to her face. Remembered Crowlee’s words and wondered if she’d seemed slow and pointless to him. A thought which served to make the hate flare fresh.

  The Ugly, still streaked with blood, tasted raw meat for the second time in only a few heartbeats. This time found the softness of belly. Doubled him over. Forced out a sorrowful wail which ended as she jerked knee hard into his face.

  Felt grim satisfaction chew through the fear she’d been holding since Buddug’s words screeched it into her guts.

  A whimper bubbled loose from the first Bonebreaker trying to crawl away. Hand pressed against bleeding which showed no sign of slowing.

  “Die, you piece of shit,” she growled, kicking him in the head. Wet crunch.

  He was still.

  The street hummed silence.

  A door shut somewhere above. Real quiet.

  Slow bolt creaked home with a click.

  Sound of heels flapping on wet stone. Out of view. More than one set. More than three.

  “Shit.”

  She hit the nearest door with her shoulder and felt the satisfaction of the lock busting loose. Wood splintered and the iron mechanism clanged to the ground. Sweeping inside, she kicked the door shut behind her.

  A corridor to either side and stairs straight ahead. She took the stairs.

  First level up was just a row of stores, most shuttered already.

  A few old women, gathering after a long day, sat together in front of one. Creased faces turned her way, then back to steaming bowls. Wrinkled faces made owlish and surreal by the yellow stained magelight.

  Their message clear.

  They saw nothing.

  Knew nothing.

  The elf went up another level.

  More closed doors. Rough count of six each side. Barber sign. Trader. Shoemaker.

  A magelight flickered halfway down. The barber leaned in his doorway, chatting to a bored-looking woman in figure-hugging dress. Kind of dress which did more advertising than the red door she stood in front of.

  The woman glanced at the elf. Hoped for a customer.

  Sighed when the elf flashed up the stairs, taking three at a time.

  Laughter on the next level. A drinking hole. Most of the wall left open to the hallway. Little stools cluttered around smaller tables.

  People curled together. Red-faced and getting redder.

  Someone saw her. Drink clouded brain soaked confused thoughts.

  He waved.

  But she was already rushing up again, hearing shouts from below.

  Bonebreakers flooded up the stairs. Heavy and thick with curses.

  Next level was empty.

  Only one door. A gang’s warehouse, she figured. Shuttered. A few gangsigns scratched into the wall. No one guarding, so she doubted it was used.

  Up.

  Rows of small doors.

  Apartments. Window at the end of the corridor letting in the flickering magelight from outside.

  Two kids stood in the hall. Playing with a bright-coloured woollen ball. They looked up. Looked ready to run.

  The elf shoved a finger toward the window. “Hey,” she called. “What’s out there?”

  “Nothing,” the boy said.

  “There another building out there?”

  “I guess.”

  “It bigger than this one? Easy to jump across?”

  The girl shook her head. “It’s smaller.”

  “How small?” Frustration bit her chest. Bonebreakers were coming.

  The girl put a finger to her mouth in thought. Then shrugged. “They had a garden on the roof. It had flowers. Now there’s nothing. It’s grey.”

  “Shit,” the elf growled.

  Looked down the stairs.

  At the two kids.

  The boy smiled.

  Nervous smile of someone who was slowly learning the lessons of dealing with street toughs. Eyes showed a glimmer of understanding, though.

  “Mallet tried jumping onto it,” he said. “Last year.”

  “He make it?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “I saw his fingers,” the girl said. Shuddered. “I found them on Apple Street.”

  “That’s two streets,” the boy said. Pointed to the window. “That way. He bounced.”

  “Not all of him,” the girl said. Eager to correct. To be precise. “Only some of him.”

  Boy nodded.

  “There a way out upstairs? Maybe another way down?”

  “No. There’s only the stairs.”

  “Mama had a rope to get down, though.”

  The elf moved quickly toward them. Urgency in her heart. “Can I use the rope?”

  The boy shook his head. “Rats ate it.”

  “Fuck.” She ran fingers through her hair.

  Fight?

  The hallway wasn’t wide.

  Maybe she could hold it.

  For how long?

  The window.

  “She’s up here!”

  The elf turned on her heel, Reinforcing Accessories winding with th
e wild flow of her arm before twirling free of fingers. Hit him in the throat and he squealed. A sodden sound which made the girl scream.

  “Wow,” the boy said. “You’re fast!”

  “Get the fuck inside,” Nysta hissed. “This ain’t a place to chill tonight.”

  The boy grabbed the girl and started pushing her to his door.

  If they got inside, she didn’t wait to find out. She ran at the window. Sprinted.

  Mallet hadn’t made it.

  Who the fuck was Mallet?

  Dead.

  Her thighs felt empty as she approached. Heard shouts behind her. Wordless sounds which rapped against her ears but she didn’t have time to listen.

  Feeling of worms rushing through her body. Grasping muscle. Wrenching tendon. Pushing body harder.

  Faster.

  When she hit the window, it was with a blast of shattered glass. As many slivers sliced into her skin as were spewed into the street.

  Thrill of the impact pulsed in her ears and she hung suspended in the air for what felt like eons.

  Magelights flickered below. Light cranked off pale walls.

  The rooftop wasn’t a great distance away, but she could see why Mallet had bounced all over surrounding streets.

  It was two levels down.

  And she was falling fast.

  Unable to hold steady, she tumbled toward the flat roof. Arms wheeling in futile attempt to gain control of her flight. Filth’s words loud in her ears, but this hawk couldn’t fly.

  Horror turned her roar into a scream.

  The Shadowed Halls took notice and the Old Skeleton’s grin widened as death reared in front of the elf.

  She heard an electric crackle in her ears. Fizz of lightning.

  Felt a pulse of energy hit her chest and, for a moment, thought someone had shot her with an arrow from behind. The punch of it knocked all air from her lungs.

  But she had no time to think.

  Because she hit the rooftop like a falling star.

  Smashed into stone, which didn’t even try to hold her weight. It exploded inward. Dropped her onto a beam of wood twice as thick as her torso.

  It snapped like an old bone under the force.

  An apocalypse of collapsed rubble escorted her to ground where she landed with a crash to blow all her senses to the wind. In her ears, the sudden silence whirled like a hurricane. Rang louder than any bell.

  Then pain.