Scion of Dragonclaw (Nysta Book 8)

by Lucas Thorn

Could’ve been just around the corner for all he knew. Mink didn’t know even where he was now, if he was honest. He’d always let Fara do the navigating. She was better with maps. Better with her sword, too.

  He had the badges, but it was she who led the team.

  Which made it even more humiliating to be promoted above her.

  Since the promotion, performed in the awkward confines of the embarrassing makeshift tavern in the cellar, he’d felt like one of Anj’s many captain friends. Useless.

  A token mouth.

  Fara deserved better.

  She always had.

  His thoughts were saddened by this as he watched an elf tear Fara’s life out through her throat. A brutal end for someone who’d worked so hard to be accepted by the new company’s leaders who saw in Fara little more than something to flirt at or be given papers to shuffle.

  A tear pulled itself from his eyeball and slid down his cheek as her blood spat across the wall in front of him.

  He lifted his arm.

  Tried to reach for her as she spun, clutching the wound on her neck. Agonised gurgle as blood bubbled down her throat into lungs.

  Her eyes caught his.

  Was there something in there which understood what he was trying to say?

  He couldn’t be sure.

  It was hard to think when there was a sword sticking through your mouth. It’d come spearing through the back of his head. Cut across his tongue. Splintered teeth.

  Blood gushed from his mouth.

  He couldn’t move.

  Was held in place by whoever had stabbed him from behind.

  A blinding light melted into ice-cold pain as the sword was tugged free of his skull and he fell. Down on all-fours. Looking into Fara’s gasping face.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Maybe he could help.

  He began to crawl forward.

  Then stopped with a shudder of agony as the sword skewered him to the ground.

  Ripped a groan from his ruined mouth.

  Fara managed a gasp.

  Rolled toward him.

  Bloodied fingers calling.

  And all he could do as the darkness took him, was nod.

  “Yeah,” he wanted to say as everything blurred into darkness. “I know.”

  The sword pulled free of meat and Klista wiped it on the dead man’s back before sliding it into the cane sheath.

  “There’s four more up ahead,” she said.

  “We ain’t going that way,” Nysta said. Jerked a thumb toward a stack of barrels piled against the wall. “We’re headed in there.”

  Klista frowned. Watched as the elf opened one of the barrels.

  Pulled out a glass vial. Scraps of leather.

  A few wooden spoons.

  Apple.

  She dropped them to the floor and opened another barrel.

  Grunted.

  Then another. Pulled out a sword and an old shirt.

  In the next seemed to find what she was looking for. As the elf pulled on a lever hidden inside, the wall let out a click and a hidden doorway swung open with quiet ease.

  “Well,” Klista said. “That explains how you kept fucking disappearing.”

  Inside, the room was wide and dark. Cold. Crisp white tiles on the ground. Smell of lavender and oranges. Window was closed. Curtains drawn.

  A heavy bed on a platform in the centre of the room. Lump in the middle. Wrapped in blankets. Slight rise and fall of chest.

  Couch along the wall. Boots beside the door.

  Klista glanced at the elf, who nodded for her to move to the door as she closed the hidden entrance behind them.

  The young Shiv didn’t argue. Padded silently to the door and pressed against it.

  Listened.

  Looked back at the elf, two fingers up.

  Two guards outside.

  Not enough, Nysta thought, hesitating with the hidden lock.

  Not nearly enough.

  “Back,” she hissed. “Get back!”

  They came from the washroom.

  A flood of shapes on a bellow loud enough to shake the walls. Clatter of steel. Short swords and hatchets. Gleaming as magelights sparked into life above. Drenching the room in light. Light which made her blink through the red veil still itching her eyes.

  Klista was at her side.

  The girl pressed against her shoulder. Snarled; “First ten are mine.”

  And she leapt before the elf could grab her.

  Nysta bared teeth.

  A sword came cruising for her guts.

  “Shit.”

  Used the flat of her bracer to slap the sword aside and cut into bicep with A Flaw in the Glass. Rewarded with a shriek, she kicked balls hard. Vaulted the crumpled form and joined the fray.

  Slipped on blood more than once as she tore every piece of flesh she could get close to.

  There was no room for thought. No space for planning.

  Chaos dictated every move with savage direction.

  Every sweep of her blade trailed hot blood. Every death filled her heart with the thrilling flavour of battle.

  She flicked Go With My Blessing into the air. Sent it spinning into a face leering up behind Klista.

  Shattered a kneecap with her heel.

  Speared the back of a skull with enchanted steel.

  A guard slammed into her, sweeping in on heavy feet. Ducking under the song of Klista’s sword. A sword which seemed to have a life of its own as she whirled among the guards, lopping limbs and splitting torsos.

  There was a casual finesse about the girl’s movements which was backed up by the hard brutality of a troubled life spent surviving on streets whose breath was murderous.

  Nysta hooked into the guard’s kidney, jerking blade up to tear him open.

  Shouldn’t have been able to cut through the steel jerkin he wore.

  But it parted like it was made of tin.

  Probably was, she thought as she whipped the knife free.

  “Don’t let her out!” Someone yelled from the hallway outside. A voice she recognised. The one who called himself Sagg.

  “There’s two of them!”

  The voice ended in a swollen scream as the elf jammed A Flaw in the Glass between ribs. Pulled the knife free with a twist.

  Three men shivered at the back, unsure what to do.

  Looking to each other. Inched back toward the washroom.

  Klista hunted them.

  Blood drooling off the edge of her slim sword.

  “Klista,” the elf rasped. “Move. We ain’t got time.”

  She slammed into the hidden doorway, wrenching it open.

  Heard footfalls.

  Sagg was working the door. Doubtless he had more than two guards with him now.

  And there were eight on the ground. Inert in puddles of their own gore. How many did Sagg have with him? It wasn’t worth the risk. She could lose them in the Halls.

  Klista skipped toward the elf. Shot a grimace at the three men skulking back. “You’re lucky,” she called to them. Despite the cheerful tone, there was iciness in her voice. “But if I see you again, you’re dead. Best you retire tonight, yeah?”

  The elf entered the dark.

  Began counting corridors again.

  Felt frustration build in the tight joints of her neck.

  Shoulders.

  Forearms thick beneath the bracers.

  And the worms still silent, tucked away in pockets of oblivion.

  When had she come to count on them? This feeling in her belly. The cold frigid ball of rolling fear. Was it colder now the worms weren’t pulsing through her muscle?

  Was she more afraid?

  Was she running out of power faster?

  Did she miss them? Need them?

  “We could’ve killed them,” Klista said. Not an accusation. More regretful. “There was time.”

  “Yeah,” the elf said. Shook thoughts of Talek’s Cage loose from her head. “But they know what I’m doing now. Know my next target. They�
�re waiting. More time we spend fucking around, more time they got to get organised. Figure we’re already in deep shit as it is. No point making it deeper.”

  “You know where you’re going?”

  “Yeah.” Couldn’t hide the sourness. “I know.”

  “Well, that sounds fun.”

  “Depends,” the elf said. “One more place, then we find out if you like dancing as much as killing.”

  “Doubt it. I got two left feet. That’s what Filth said.”

  “You move alright.”

  “Only when I’m fighting.” The girl giggled. “Other times I fall flat on my fucking face just trying to get out of bed. Lucky for me, the guards in this place are fucking useless. You know, they should hire some of the fellers from the docks. They’ve got heavier clubs. You know, one of these bastards hit me and his club actually broke. I didn’t even feel it. Well. Not much. When we get back, I’m gonna talk to Filth. Maybe we can offer to do a better job. Pay must be good.”

  “They’re useless,” the elf echoed. Remembered being told there shouldn’t be any guards in the first place. “And the more I think about it, the more the whole thing smells like shit.”

  “I recognised a few.”

  “Who?”

  “Conlay, Rags, and Grig. They used to run with the Diamondbacks. From out by Northwall. Mostly kept to the gates and hassled newcomers until the Whitebrows took them out. What’s left of ‘em visited Filth last year. Asked for a place. But the Shivs don’t just take any piece of shit who washes into our volcano. They’re a whining bunch of alcheads. Couldn’t fight for shit. Weren’t worth having around. So Filth kicked ‘em on. Saw Conlay around a bit. Used to hop bars, begging for beers off strangers too stupid to say no. Last I heard he’d been sleeping in a dosshouse by the Verminpit.”

  “Explains a lot,” she said.

  The guards had been little more than decoration.

  Their gear weak.

  She remembered the guard who’d talked to her in their drinking hole.

  Right before she’d cut Aegir.

  There was something she was missing. Why were they here in the first place? There had to be something she was missing.

  She stopped.

  Staring at the ground, eyes shrinking to slits.

  Fists, balled and tight.

  Klista eyed her with curious gaze. “What?”

  “I need to talk to someone.”

  “Who?”

  “One of the bastards in charge.”

  “How you reckon to do that?”

  The elf shrugged, turning back to where the guards were chasing through the Halls. “Figure to pin him to the wall. Cut a few pieces off him. Fingers. Ears. Whatever. See if that flaps his gums. If not, cut him some more. And most fellers talk pretty quick if you put a knife to their balls.”

  “I don’t know,” the girl sounded doubtful. “None of them looked like they had any. Sure a threat like that’s going to work?”

  “Ain’t about what they got or don’t got, kid. Far as they’re concerned they all got too much to lose. So, you just get up close. Look them in the eye. Speak their language.” Cruel line reaching for the scar on her cheek. Spun knife in hand so blade tweaked light. “Tell ‘em you’re just gonna use the tip.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sagg had been in the trenches.

  At least, that’s what he chose to remember. He’d served as a guard for a town up the coast. They’d been hit at least five times by raiders over a few seasons and the Duke finally lost his patience.

  Sagg was with the small group sent to hide in the hills and wait. A simple task for an officer on the make.

  Wait for the raiders to jump the town.

  Kill them.

  That was the plan.

  It was a good plan.

  Simple.

  And that was its problem. It was too simple.

  The raiders came at night. They swarmed the small town, working efficiently. Seemed happy enough to let the townies live so long as they stayed inside their huts.

  Mostly.

  They took tools from the blacksmith. Food from the stores. Couple of goats. A pig.

  When the guards pulled themselves from their blankets and began heading into the town, the raiders saw them fairly quick.

  And what had been an exercise in apathy from both raider and townie, exploded into an orgy of blood and death as wrathful raiders hammered into huts and began killing. Retribution, they thought it.

  A warm-up for the killing to come as the guards came running.

  Running to the sounds of townies screaming.

  Sagg was at the back. He’d never been stupid enough to stand at the front.

  Saw Toller go down with an axe through the face.

  Knew that wasn’t how he wanted to die, so broke formation and tore off toward a small hut. Crashed through the back door and into the tiny room. A farmer pressed hard into the corner.

  Young girl beside him.

  Dog.

  The dog whimpered. It knew enough not to yap at a guard.

  Outside, the clash of steel.

  Sagg headed to the window, biting his fingernails. Peeked through the curtain.

  “Oh, fuck,” he breathed. Watched his commander go down with a spear to the thigh. The spear went clean through. Snapped bone before ripping sideways. He rolled, shrieking. Didn’t stop the awful cries until the raider spun with a guffaw and speared him through the chest. Leaned hard on the spear and twisted the blade before jerking it loose.

  The other raiders kept killing.

  Guards kept dying.

  “We weren’t trained for this,” Sagg said, pushing himself away from the window. Looked at the farmer, who stared back at him. “Weren’t trained.”

  Not quite accusingly.

  But disappointed.

  That was it.

  Disappointed.

  “What are you looking at?” Sagg clenched his jaw. What right did he have to look at him like that. Didn’t the old fuck know he was here to protect them? “What the fuck are you looking at?”

  The farmer pulled the weeping girl tighter. Said nothing. But turned his eyes to the ground.

  Stared at his feet.

  Whipped dog.

  The dog shivered.

  Pressed up against the old man’s foot. Tail coiled under stumpy legs.

  Whimper and moan.

  Sagg took a few steps toward the trio. Sword in hand. Spoke evenly; “I said, what the fuck are you looking at? Answer me.”

  The farmer closed his eyes. Put his hand over the girl’s head.

  Whispered something to her.

  “What?” Sagg thrust his head close. Snarl. “What did you fucking say? Say that again, you fuck. Say it!”

  “Nothin’.”

  Half the man’s teeth were gone. Stinking breath. What the fuck had he been eating?

  “Say it.”

  “Said nothin’, ser.”

  “Yeah.” Sagg’s arm went back. Thrust. Sword speared through the girl’s skinny back and into the old man’s chest. He pushed on the blade with his weight. Pushing it hard as he could. Wetting the steel crimson. Satisfaction making him grin. “That’s what I thought. Fucking coward.”

  The dog lunged.

  More out of shock than spite. Teeth clamped around his shin.

  “You bastard!” He had to work to pull the sword free of the dead townies.

  Then cut the dog loose with two quick chops.

  It let out a whine.

  Died.

  The floor, covered in blood.

  So. That’s what it looked like.

  He staggered back, feeling a sudden urge to vomit. Hit the table and knocked a wooden mug which rolled with a shockingly loud clatter.

  All thought of death forgotten, his hand went to his mouth and he chewed fingertips as he eyed the door.

  Had anyone heard?

  The sound of battle had ceased, replaced by an eerie quiet.

  “Fucking fuck,” he breath
ed. Skipped to the window.

  Raiders were wandering slowly back to their longboat.

  Clapping each other on the back.

  One had been wounded. Leaned on his spear with every step.

  None dead.

  Any guards left?

  He couldn’t see any.

  Could see Dof and Elkwood sprawled over a fence. Arms hanging loose.

  Dead.

  All of them.

  His heart bounced in his chest.

  He’d survived.

  Survived when he should be dead.

  Reeling at the miracle of it, he whirled around the room.

  Breathless.

  By Grim’s will, he’d survived! The Dark Lord had most surely blessed him.

  Sword in hand.

  Blood dripping off the edge. He stared at the droplets of red. Incredulous as realisation warmed his soul.

  He’d killed!

  Killed for the first time.

  Aimed himself at the door and drew himself to his full height. “Come on, then,” he growled at it. “Come on, you bastards. Come and fight me now!”

  He went to the door.

  Opened it a little.

  Just a crack.

  Cold night air. Chilled his cheek. Eye looking through the slit.

  They were in their boat.

  Adrenaline swam through his blood.

  He’d survived their attack.

  As the longboat left the beach, he emerged. Headed toward them. Slow at first. Then quicker as he ran to the shore. A throaty roar lost to the sound of crashing waves.

  They didn’t even notice him.

  Didn’t see him in the dark.

  Couldn’t hear him over the bleating goats, smashing waves, and heavy drum as they rowed.

  “Come back, you bastards! I’ll kill you all! Kill you all!”

  They didn’t come back.

  Satisfied, he turned. Stared at the dead.

  So many.

  What would he tell the Duke?

  The truth, of course.

  He’d fought. Defended the farmers. But there were too many raiders. Not enough guards.

  He’d fallen.

  Couldn’t remember anything else.

  Grinning, he drew his knife.

  Began cutting.

  Scars meant something. They told a story.

  A story no one could argue.

  Promotion.

  “It was a bastard of a fight,” he said as his knife slit skin. “Couldn’t feel my arm after a while. Ain’t sure how many I cut down. Five, maybe? They took their dead with them. You know what raiders are like. Fucking maniacs. They hit the town like nothing I’ve ever seen. Captain stood in front of them, though. And I was at his side. Proud of that. A time I’ll never forget. He called me, Son. And I felt close to him. To all the fellers. We fought together, we did. Then he went down. Died like a hero. A real hero. Then I cut the motherfucker who stuck him. Cut him real bad. That pissed them off. Made them mad as shit. We pushed them hard, we did. Pushed them back to the beach. But then Mocker got an axe in the belly and then the advantage was theirs. I fell. Thought I was dead right there. But Gallek pulled me loose, he did. A real mate, he was. Pulled me out and pushed me into a hut. I was dazed. Didn’t know what was happening. Hit my head. Got knifed a bit on the way in. Yeah, lucky it weren’t an axe. Gallek got the axe, though. Right in the face. Went down like that. Like THAT! Fucking awful sight. Worst thing I ever saw. After that, the raiders got inside the hut. I could’ve got away, but there was an old feller in there. With his daughter. And a dog. Dog was a real biter. Took to the raiders like a fucking feral wolf. Should’ve seen it. Little thing had a heart bigger than its body. Tore a chunk the size of my fist out of some fucker. I couldn’t leave them, could I? I’m a guard. And not just any guard. Dragonclaw guard. And we don’t leave our people for raiders. So, there was no way I couldn’t leave them. I tried my best to kill as many as I could. But then I got conked on the head. And cut some more, I think. When I woke, the old man and his girl were dead. Dog, too. Poor bastards. Nothing I could do. Nothing I could do.”