by Jim Butcher
The Cursor reached a hand up and pushed a few loose strands of hair back from her eyes, staring at Tavi. “I think your nephew, here, has managed to learn more about the Marat than the Crown’s intelligence service, Steadholder.”
Tavi nodded. “They, uh, eat their enemies. And anyone who shows up without permission is considered to be one.” He coughed. “It probably makes it sort of difficult to learn about them.”
Amara shook her head. “If we get out of this, I want to know how you managed to not get eaten and wind up leading a Marat horde of your own to save this valley.”
Fade let out a low, apprehensive hoot of warning. Tavi looked at the slave and found him staring intently at the walls.
In the ragged hole in the fortress’s walls, shapes stirred. Several riders on horseback, tall Horse Clan Marat, rode in. Tavi recognized Hashat at once, her pale mane flowing, though fresh blood spattered her hair, upper body, and saber arm. Tavi identified her to Amara and his uncle.
“Headman?” Bernard demanded, something in his tone offended. “She’s a woman. And she’s not wearing a shirt.”
Amara let out a low whistle. “Those eagles on her belt are from Royal Guardsman. If they’re genuine, she must have been part of the horde that killed Princeps Septimus.”
“She’s nice enough,” Tavi said. “She won’t confront Atsurak herself, but she’ll follow Doroga’s lead. I think they’re friends.”
At the gate, the Marat stirred and parted to let the Wolf headman in with a pair of rangy direwolves beside him. A long, clean cut marred the pale skin of his chest, clotted with dark red. The man looked around the courtyard and bared his teeth, showing the long canines of his clan. “Skagara,” Tavi supplied. “Wolf Clan headman. He’s a bully.”
Hashat dismounted and stalked over to stand beside Skagara. She faced him the whole way with a dangerous little smile on her mouth. Skagara took a step back from her when she reached him. Hashat’s teeth showed, and she made a point of examining the cut on his chest. Then she turned to face Atsurak and Doroga, folding her arms, one bloodied hand remaining near her saber. Skagara gave her a sullen scowl, then did the same.
Doroga leaned on his cudgel, staring at the ground. Atsurak stood patiently, spear loosely gripped in one hand. Silence and mounting tension reigned for several moments. Only the crows made any noise, a low and steady cawing in the background outside the walls.
“What are they waiting for?” Amara asked Tavi.
“The sun,” Tavi said. “Doroga said they always wait for the sun to rise on the results of a trial.” He glanced up at the walls, the angle of the shadows there. “I guess they don’t think the fight will take very long.”
The morning light swept across the courtyard, as the sun rose higher. The line of shadow described by the still-intact walls swept from west to east, toward the two Marat headmen.
Doroga looked up, after a time, to the sunlight where it had barely come to rest on the head of his staff. He nodded, lowered the weapon with a grunt, and advanced on Atsurak.
The Herdbane headman whirled his spear in a loose circle, shrugged his shoulders, and stalked toward Doroga on cat-light feet. He moved swiftly, his spear’s tip blurring, as he thrust it at the other Marat, but Doroga parried the blow to one side with the thick shaft of the cudgel, then swept it in a short thrust at Atsurak’s head.
Atsurak avoided the blow and whipped the spear’s tip toward Doroga’s leg. The Gargant headman dodged, but not quickly enough, and a line of bright scarlet appeared on his thigh.
The Marat in the courtyard let out a low murmur. Someone among the Herdbane said something in a grinding tongue, and the warriors let out a rough laugh. A low chatter began between the Herdbane and Wolf present.
“Are they betting on the fight?” Amara asked, incredulous.
Tavi nodded. “Yeah, they do that. Doroga won his daughter betting on me.”
“What?”
“Shhhh.”
Doroga drew back from the exchange with a grimace and glanced down at his leg. He tried to put his weight on it, but faltered, and he had to swing the staff of the cudgel down to help support him. Atsurak smiled at that and spun his spear around again. He began a slow, deliberate stalk toward Doroga, circling the Gargant headman, forcing him to turn to face his enemy, putting pressure on his wounded leg. Doroga’s face twisted with a grimace of pain.
“Tavi,” Amara breathed. “What happens if Doroga loses?”
Tavi swallowed, his heart pounding. “Then The One has said that Doroga was wrong. And the rest of the clans follow Atsurak like they would have before.”
“Oh,” Amara breathed. “Can he do it?”
“Five silver bulls on Doroga,” Tavi responded.
“You’re on.”
Atsurak rushed Doroga abruptly. The Gargant headman whipped up his weapon and parried the spear aside, but his return stroke was clumsy and drew him off balance. Atsurak dodged and immediately leapt in again. Once more, Doroga barely deflected the incoming stroke, and this time it cost him his balance. He fell to the stones of the courtyard.
Atsurak pressed in for the kill, but Doroga swung the long-handled cudgel at the hordemaster’s feet, forcing him to skip back to avoid it. Atsurak scowled and spat some harsh-sounding word, then lifted the spear, circled, and darted in at Doroga with deadly purpose.
The Gargant headman had been waiting for Atsurak’s charge. With an easy grace, he swept the spear aside with one hand, jabbing the tip into the stone, then gripped the shaft in one huge fist. He drove it back toward Atsurak with almost casual power, the spear’s butt striking the hordemaster in the belly and stopping him in his tracks.
Doroga jerked the spear from his opponent’s grasp. Atsurakbacked warily away, sucking for his breath. Doroga stood up with a casual grace. Then he lifted his wounded leg and snapped the haft of the Aleran spear, tossing its bits to one side.
“He tricked him!” Tavi said, gleefully.
“Hush,” Amara said.
“He’s got him now,” Bernard said.
Doroga tossed the huge cudgel to one side. It landed on the stones with a dull thump.
“I remember the Fox,” he said, his voice very quiet. Then he spread his hands wide, and with that same flat, hard-eyed smile, he came toward the smaller Marat.
Atsurak paled, but spread his own hands, circling Doroga. He moved abruptly, a darting motion reminiscent of one of the predator birds, leaping and kicking high on Doroga’s chest.
Doroga took the kick full on, though it stopped him in his tracks and rocked him back a step, but his hands flashed up to Atsurak’s ankle and caught his foot before the other could draw it away. Atsurak began to fall, and Doroga’s shoulders knotted, his hands twisting.
Something in Atsurak’s leg broke with an ugly pop. The hordemaster gasped and fell, but kicked with his good leg at Doroga’s ankle. The Gargant chief’s foot went out from under him, and he fell, grappling with his foe.
Tavi watched, but could see that Atsurak was at a disadvantage too serious to overcome. Overwhelmed by sheer physical power, too hurt to get away, it would only be a matter of time. Doroga’s hands lifted and locked around the hordemaster’s throat. Atsurak locked his hands onto Doroga’s, but Tavi could see that it would be a hopeless effort.
Tavi stared, unable to look away — but something drew his attention, a faint motion in the background. He glanced up and saw the Marat all focused on the contest, stepping closer, eyes bright. Hashat was all but panting, her eyes open too wide as she watched Doroga’s struggle.
Beside Hashat, though, Tavi saw that Skagara, the Wolf headman, had taken a step back, behind her vision. He reached a hand back behind him, and Tavi saw one of the Wolf warriors touch a stone-tipped arrow into a small clay jar, then pass it to Skagara, together with one of the short Marat bows. Moving quickly, the Wolf headman drew the poisoned arrow, and lifted the bow.
“Doroga!” Tavi shouted. “Look out!”
Doroga’s head snapped up, at Tavi an
d then over at Skagara. Doroga rolled, and wrenched Atsurak’s form between himself and the would-be assassin.
Tavi saw Atsurak draw the Aleran dagger with its gold hilt from his belt and slash wildly at Doroga’s hand. The Gargant headman cried out and fell back, and Atsurak rolled free of his grip.
“Kill them!” shouted the hordemaster, his eyes blazing. “Kill them as we did the Fox! Kill them all!”
Doroga roared and rose to his feet, charging toward Atsurak.
Without a breath of hesitation, Skagara loosed the poisoned arrow. Tavi saw it flicker across the brief distance between them and vanish into Doroga’s arm with a meaty crack. The Gargant headman went down.
Hashat spun, her saber flashing in the sun as she drew it, and cut through Skagara’s bow and the Wolf headman’s throat in the same slash, sending him to the ground in a sudden wash of blood.
The courtyard erupted into chaos. The great Herdbane birds near Atsurak screamed as he turned to them and flicked a hand at Doroga. They charged the fallen Gargant headman. At the same time, Doroga’s gargant bellowed and rolled forward to his defense. Outside the walls, what had been hushed silence erupted once more into tumult and cacophony. Hashat’s clan charged forward, toward the fallen Doroga, and Atsurak’s warriors did the same.
Fade let out a wail and clutched hard at Tavi’s shirt.
“The knife!” he heard Amara yell. “Get the dagger!” The Cursor started forward, only to be stopped by the sudden press of Marat warriors, spears glittering with the same dark deadliness as the eyes of the herdbanes beside them. The Aleran troops fell into lines, even as Bernard grabbed at his sister’s arm, and Amara’s, and dragged them both back behind the shields of the troops.
Fade let out a screech of fear and turned to follow Bernard, mindlessly dragging Tavi along.
“Fade!” Tavi protested.
“The knife!” screamed Amara. “Without the dagger, it’s all for nothing!”
Tavi didn’t stop to think. He just dropped his weight, lifting his arms up and slipping out of the too-big tunic. He rolled to his feet, looked around the courtyard wildly, and then ran toward the downed Atsurak. The hordemaster’s warriors now either engaged the Alerans or faced Doroga’s furious gargant and were far too occupied to notice the fleeting form of one rather small boy.
Atsurak watched the melee around Doroga’s gargant. The great beast had rumbled forward and crouched over Doroga’s fallen form, swinging its huge head, clawing, kicking, and bellowing at anyone who came close. Tavi licked his lips and saw Doroga’s fallen cudgel. He picked it up, though it was a strain, prepared to give it one good swing at Atsurak’s head, grab the knife, and run back to his uncle.
Instead, there was a sudden rush of wind that threw up hay (what was hay doing all over the courtyard?) and dust and blinded him, all but throwing him down. Tavi shielded his eyes, looking up to see several men in black tunics and armor, wielding weapons of steel, hovering over the courtyard. One of them had his hand extended toward Atsurak and must have been controlling the winds that buffeted the courtyard.
Another Knight Aeris swept down and dropped the same innocuous-looking, balding man Tavi had seen before onto the stones of the courtyard. The man stepped forward to the blinded Atsurak, and with a casual jerk on the man’s hair and a short knife, cut the hordemaster’s throat.
The hordemaster jerked and twisted wildly, and the dagger flew from his hand, skittering over the stones of the courtyard and landing in a clump of hay not far from Tavi.
“The dagger!” barked the man with the bloodied knife. “Get the dagger!”
Tavi stared at the man standing over Atsurak’s jerking, twitching form. He had no doubt that this man would kill him just as quickly. But he also knew that the man was not loyal to the Crown, that he had been pursuing Amara and Tavi, and that he had tried to hurt his aunt and uncle.
Two days ago, Tavi thought, he might have let the man recover the dagger. He might have turned and run. He might have found someplace to hide until all of this was over.
“Two days ago,” Tavi breathed, “I had a lot more sense.”
Then he darted forward, seized the dagger where it lay, and began to run.
“There!” Tavi heard the man yell. “He’s got the dagger! Kill that boy!”
CHAPTER 43
Tavi ran for his life.
The courtyard was a mass of confusion and motion, but he knew the one direction he had to go: away from the man who had killed Atsurak. Tavi spun, dashed around a pair of struggling Marat warriors, and fled toward the other side of the fort. He heard a roar of wind above him, and then a sudden burst of it sent him tumbling along the ground. Tavi yelped and tried to make sure that he didn’t stab himself to death with the knife in his hand, rolling and bumping along the stones of the courtyard.
When he came to a stop, he looked up to see a Knight Aeris in full armor diving toward him, the spear in his hand held extended. Tavi clawed at his pockets. Even as the Knight came on, Tavi hurled a handful of rock salt he had taken from Bernardholt’s smokehouse at the oncoming Knight, and then dove frantically to one side.
The Knight let out a sudden shout, clawing at the air — but he dropped to the ground, moving too fast, skipped along for a pair of desperate steps, and began to tumble end over end on the unforgiving stones. Tavi heard one of his limbs hit with a sharp crack of impact, and the Knight shrieked.
Tavi regained his feet, looking around him wildly. More Knights Aeris had risen above the courtyard, looking for him. On the other side of a struggling knot of legionares, the huge swordsman Tavi had seen in the stable at Bernardholt spotted him and came toward him, sword lifting to clean any opposition out of his way. The man who had killed Atsurak was nowhere to be seen.
Tavi ran away from the swordsman and down the length of the stables, toward the center of the fort and the far gate. Surely there would be someone there who wasn’t already hips-deep in Marat by now, or a safe building that he could hide in.
Tavi reached the end of the stables at the same time a bulky figure, dressed in a half-buckled breastplate and a helmet that hung down over his eyes, plunged out of the doors of the stables, shouting, “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
Tavi slammed into the young man, and both went to the ground. The man’s shield tumbled away wildly, though he managed to keep a grip on the well-worn handle of a spade. The man pushed his helmet back, then gripped the spade in both hands, raising it.
Tavi shielded his head with his arms. “Frederic!” he shouted. “Fred, it’s me!”
Frederic lowered the spade and stared. “Tavi? You’re alive?”
“Not for long!” he panted, struggling to his feet. “They’re trying to kill me, Fred!”
Frederic blinked. His helmet fell over his eyes.
Tavi reached up to push it away, and saw the next Knight Aeris swooping down at him as he did. He reached into his pocket for more salt, but in his haste he had turned the pocket inside out, when he had drawn out salt before. It had all fallen out as he ran.
“Tavi,” Fred said. “The Steadholder says I’m not to take that helmet off —”
“Look out!” Tavi said, and bulled into his friend, overbalancing the larger boy and taking him down. The Knight flashed past, his sword reaching down, and Tavi felt a sudden, hot sting on one arm.
Frederic blinked at Tavi and at the Knight flying on past, circling around again. “Tavi,” he said, stunned, looking at the boy’s arm. “He cut you.” Fred looked up at Tavi, eyes widening. “They’re trying to kill you!”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here to tell me that,” Tavi said, wincing at the sudden flash of pain. Blood had stained his shirt, but he could move his arm. “It isn’t bad. Help me up.”
Frederic did, his face showing his fear and confusion. “Who are they?”
“I don’t know,” Tavi said. “But he’s coming again!”
Tavi turned to duck into the building—only to see, at the far end of the stables, t
he unmistakable outline of the swordsman against the doors on the far side, blade in hand.
“Can’t get out that way,” Tavi breathed. He looked back around behind him. The Knight Aeris had been joined by one of his companions, and they had lined up for another charge. “Fred, we need Thumper.”
“What? But Thumper doesn’t know how to fight!”
“Salt, Fred. We need salt to throw at those windcrafters, a lot of it!”
“But—”
“Hurry, Fred!”
The Knights Aeris hurtled toward them in a screaming torrent of wind.
Tavi gripped at his knife and looked around wildly, but there was no place to run.
Frederic stepped forward, in front of Tavi, his spade gripped in both hands. He let out a yell that grew into a deep-throated roar and drew back the spade. When he brought it around again, it came straight over his head and down in a great swooshing arc that met the leading Knight just before his sword could reach Tavi’s friend.
The blow crumpled the Knight as though he had been made of straw, slapped him out of the air and to the ground in a single short, violent motion. Tavi had no doubt at all that Frederic had crushed the life from him.
Frederic lifted his spade and swung wildly at the next Knight, as the man swerved to avoid him. Frederic missed, but even as he swung, Tavi saw the light glittering on somethingshining on the blade of the spade, hard white lumps — crystals of salt. The salt swept through the Knight Aeris’s windstream, and the man let out a yelp, tumbling to the ground and rolling with bone-breaking violence into the wall of one of the barracks.
Fred stared at the two men, his eyes wide, panting. He turned to Tavi and stammered, “I already had my spade salted. After I hit that first one, when I was working on that boulder.” He blinked at the spade, and then at Tavi. “Are you all right?”
Tavi swallowed and looked back over his shoulder at the interior of the stable. Inside, someone had leapt out of the shadows at the swordsman. There was a confused blur of outlines, a short cry — and then the swordsman continued toward them.