by Arden Ellis
"But it would be," Silva said. "In time, all weapons are."
From outside the ship, the low bray of the hunting horn sounded again—closer. "There's no time for this!" Wright snapped. With one final glance at the glass disks, she slid it into her bag. "Tintagel's men are closing in by the second. We can argue about what to do with the research once we're safe."
She turned towards the door at the other end of the room, her shoulders set. But before she could stride towards it, Preston stepped forward—and stopped between her and the exit. His hand gripped his staff, the knuckles pale in the gloom. "I cannot let you do that, ser."
Wright stared at him in disbelief. Even with her wound, Preston could not hope to best her in combat with nothing more than a length of oak. Yet he stood tall, his feet planted, blocking Wright's only path of exit. Obstacles must be removed.
Almost unconsciously, Wright's hand settled on her sword. It was her dominant arm the shrapnel had injured; in a fair fight, she would not stand a chance. But in close quarters, and if she struck the first blow…
"Preston." Her voice was hoarse with dust and emotion. "I am bound by oath to my lord's command. Do not make me do this."
"You will do what you believe is right." Silva's tone was level as she stepped forward to stop at Preston's side. She did not reach for a weapon, but the pistol on her hip gleamed in the lamplight. "Neither we nor your lord can stand in the way of that."
"Step aside, sellsword," Wright said, her voice a brittle edge. She loosened her sword from its sheath, baring an inch of bright steel. In her peripheral vision Wright could see Kai lingering in the shadows, her expression unreadable. "Kai, please. You know better than any that I have no choice."
The silence from the darkness of the lab was as heaving and choking as water. Then, Kai chuckled. It was not cold, nor bitter. It sounded almost rueful. "You know, when Lord Warwick ordered me to steal the research and kill any who tried to stop me, I really thought that I would do it." Silva tensed at Kai's words, Preston's hands tightening on his staff—but then Kai stepped forward to join Preston and Silva in front of the door. Her eyes, when Wright met them, did not match the smile on her lips. "It seems you were right about me, ser. I am an oathbreaker after all."
There was no malice in Kai's voice—not even when her hand settled on the pommel of her sword. Wright's heart wrenched in her chest as the curse twisted and writhed within its glass cage. This would be no duel, no match of wits and strength. If Kai drew that sword, it would end with one or both of them dead. Wright would need to kill Silva first; that pistol could end the fight before it even began. Preston posed little threat; she could knock him down, keep Kai on the side of her good arm, use the small room to her advantage—
"Well?" Kai said. No daring, no bravado about her now. Her mouth was a hard, thin line, her eyes looking nowhere but into Wright's. "What are you waiting for, Wright? Carry out your duty. Prove once and for all that you are the better knight. Perhaps, when you stand before your lord and receive his approval, you can even convince yourself that it was right." Kai shook her head. "And if you truly believe that now, then I can almost forgive you for it."
Slowly, Wright's hand shifted from the hilt of her sword to reach into her knapsack and draw forth the cursed relic once more, the glass cool and smooth beneath her fingers. She stared at the twisted shape behind the dusty surface, and imagined herself presenting it at her lord's feet, proof of her success. Her mistakes would be forgiven; her favor would be secure. And above all, her lord's power would be unquestionable.
Betraying him now would be admitting that she had sworn herself to a false idol, that the authority she'd trusted her entire life had been only a man, hungry for wealth and power like any other. But it was Kai's face she stared into now, as if this one woman before her held all the answers.
"I have only ever wished to be loyal," Wright whispered.
Kai stepped forward, the menace gone from her gait. Her eyes bored into Wright's as if reaching for something. Moving very slowly, Kai held out her hand. "I have never known someone more dedicated to doing what is right than you," she said quietly. A smile flickered across her face. "Which believe me, ser, is damned annoying at times. But that's something worth being loyal to. Not to an old man on a stone chair who would make that decision for you."
Wright looked to her in faint amazement. Guilt twisted at the realization of what Kai was saying—dishonorable, unreliable Kai, who Wright had never guessed could have such compassion within her. She swallowed thickly. Slowly, as if every inch of movement pained her, Wright set the cursed glass in the center of Kai's hand.
Almost immediately the tension in the room went as slack. Kai quickly turned to deposit the cursed disk back in its rightful place, the disturbance in the dust around it the only sign of what had almost transpired. Wright turned away from her three companions, her eyes lowered in guilt and shame. She heard movement, but would not watch them leave without her.
When a hard grip seized her upper arm and turned her back towards the lantern light, Wright was too dazed to do anything but blink into Kai's face.
"That was brave, ser," she said, and from the look in her eyes Wright could almost believe it. With the world shuddering apart around her, that contact was all that held Wright to the surface of the earth. She leaned into it, ever so slightly, before Kai pulled away.
"We need to get out of here," Kai said. "If Lord Tintagel's men find us here we'll be trapped."
Preston lowered his head, leaning his weight on his staff. "I meant what I said before. I want to stay."
Kai groaned, dragging her fingers through her short dark hair. "We don't have time to argue about this, Preston. If you stay here, you'll die."
"Kai is right," Silva observed. "You can't survive here alone."
"Exactly—"
"For that reason," Silva continued, "I too will remain."
Kai's smacked herself in the forehead so hard Wright almost winced in sympathy. "What? You've both lost your minds! You cannot live here on a half-sunken ship in the middle of enemy territory!"
"And why not?" Silva grinned her gap-toothed grin. "I know the area well enough to hunt and gather. No one would look for us in an ancient godsruin far from any outpost. As Ser Wright said, we cannot leave empty handed—better not to leave at all."
Wright met her gaze. After a moment, she smiled back. "And how am I to know you don't plan on killing our alchemist and taking the relics for yourself?"
"Well, ser, I suppose you'll just have to trust me."
"Funny. I think I might just."
"Oh, wonderful," Kai said. "Anyone else? Should I go let the soldiers on the beach know that they don't have to worry about us, we'll all be dying of starvation in this cursed hole anyhow?"
Silva chuckled, shaking her head. "No, but you might do well to lead them away. I assume creating a suitable disruption will not pose a problem?"
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Disruption is my specialty."
Hesitating only a moment more, Wright reached out to clasp Silva's hand. "I was wrong about you."
Silva returned the grip in kind. "I had my suspicions about you all along. It seems they were correct." When Wright's eyes narrowed in confusion, Silva winked. "You were a true knight, after all." She nodded at Kai, and her hand slid free of Wright's. "Now go."
They went.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A horn sounded again as they waded onto the beach, out of sight but not far away at all. It came from the direction where they had hobbled their horses. Kai's expression darkened as they both crept through the undergrowth.
Pausing behind the cover of a fallen stump, they were met with a grim sight. Soldiers filled the clearing, sifting through their belongings and struggling to control the warhorses. Preston's mount was not trained for combat, and stood flicking his tail nervously where he'd been tethered; Jolie and Farstride, on the other hand, knew an enemy when they saw one. Jolie was rearing and plunging, her hooves lashing out at the men hold
ing her bridle, while Farstride turned in circles and tried to step on as many feet as he could. There was no sign of Silva's horse anywhere, but from somewhere beyond the trees the sounds of shouting and frantic whinnies suggested he wasn't coming quietly.
"Are you strong enough to outride the soldiers?" Kai whispered, with a glance to Wright's injured shoulder. The wound had begun to seep blood through the bandage as they climbed the ladder back into the water.
Wright shot her an incredulous glance. "And how exactly should I plan on doing that, with a dozen of them standing between us and our horses and neither of us wearing armor?"
"Ser, give me some credit. I have a plan."
"It had better be a good plan," Wright muttered. There had to be at least a dozen soldiers between them and their mounts, all of them armed with blades or pistols.
"Oh, I think you'll like it. Do you remember that trick I used three summers ago, during that skirmish in the burned down godsruin on Wroxton's land?"
"You mean the trick you used against me?"
Kai grinned. "I knew you wouldn't forget it. Wait for my signal." Kai immediately ducked down and moved off into the brush. For a moment there was no sound but yelling men and snorting horses. Then a sharp whistle split the air from the direction Kai had moved, as high and clear as a bell.
Jolie's ears shot straight up as years of training kicked in. With a toss of her head, she yanked free of the soldiers trying to hold her and bolted towards the source of the sound. Tintagel's men were already shouting and giving chase when Wright darted forward. There were two soldiers still clinging to Farstride's reins—she elbowed one in the face and swallowed a cry as searing pain shot through her injured shoulder. A swift kick from Farstride's hooves dispatched the other.
Before the rest of the soldiers had noticed the commotion behind them Wright had clumsily hauled herself into the saddle, her injured arm pressed close to her chest. But with Farstride's reins in her fist and the battle-fever singing in her veins, her pain was forgotten. By the time the first of the soldiers turned to the sound of pounding hoof-beats, he was already under Farstride's hooves.
They burst past the edge of the forest and out onto the beach; Farstride faltered for a moment on the sand before continuing at a canter. Ahead Wright saw Kai on Jolie, trailing soldiers on foot. But in the forest, on solid ground, Wright caught a flicker of movement; more riders pounding between the trees, moving to cut them off.
She dug her heels into Farstride's side, thundering past the footmen until he drew even with Jolie. Kai's short hair was loose in the wind, her teeth bared as she turned to see Wright beside her. "I'm surprised that worked!" she said with a wild laugh.
"We haven't lost them yet," Wright called back with a nod at the trees.
Kai followed her gaze and then looked back with a grin. "A little faith, ser!" She squeezed Jolie's sides and pushed her mount faster, angling towards the trees where the enemy awaited them. There was no time for questions. Wright tugged Farstride's reins to follow.
The riders that had been moving to cut them off flagged in confusion—then Kai rode up behind them, her sword drawn and slashing at their flanks as she passed them by. One of the horses screamed and reared, throwing its rider to the ground. It was all Wright could do to hold on one-handed to the reins as Farstride galloped past. She fell in beside Kai again, and this time there was no need for words, nothing but the pounding of hooves, the rush of wind, the joy rising higher as they surged towards freedom.
"I think we're losing them!" Kai shouted.
A shot echoed through the trees. The riders behind them, not quite out of range. A tree trunk just to Wright's side exploded into splinters as two more shots sounded; Kai shouted something sharp and wordless. Wright did not have to urge Farstride to pick up the pace. The ground flew by beneath them. Kai and Jolie were at her side. They rode until the last shots were nothing but distant echoes; only then did Wright loosen her grip on the reins and sit up to offer Kai a triumphant grin.
At first Wright didn't realized what had happened; only that Kai was silent beside her, and her head tilted down, slumped strangely over Jolie's neck as they continued at a trot. Then Wright saw the blood. It was so dark, like a splattering of glistening tar over Kai's back where the bullet fragments had gone in. Understanding came slowly, forcing its way into Wright's mind even when she wanted nothing more than to deny it: Kai had been shot.
"Kai!" Wright screamed, her grip on Farstride's reins almost slipping—but at the sound of her name Kai's head turned weakly to meet Wright's eyes. Her face was paler than Wright had ever seen it. But she was alive. Thank the gods—if gods they had ever been.
"Hold on!" Wright shouted. If Kai slipped from the saddle, it would be the end. Kai must have known that too, for she dug her fingers into Jolie's mane even as she closed her eyes, and no matter how Wright called her name as they rode, she would not open them again.
*~*~*
They rode until their horses' flanks frothed with sweat, and Wright's shoulder felt as if a hammer were beating it with every passing moment. Kai slumped against Jolie's neck, shifting dangerously with the motion of her gait. At long last Wright tugged Farstride to a stop in a clearing lit by the afternoon sun; Jolie stopped a few paces further, her ears nervously tilted back. By the time Wright had both feet on the ground Kai was already sliding limply from the saddle. Wright caught her just before she tumbled to the ground, the dull pain in her shoulder sharpening to the point of a knife. Her grip did not loosen. She would not let Kai fall.
She laid Kai on her side in the moss. Kai's eyes were half-closed and unseeing. She moaned as Wright's fingers trailed helplessly over the bloodied ruin of her back; at close range the shot would have killed Kai instantly. The shrapnel had embedded itself into multiple points around her mid-back. By some miracle they had missed her spine. Wright laid a shaking hand on Kai's clammy cheek and hushed her as gently as she could.
The back of Kai's jerkin had shredded. It seemed the leather had blocked some of the shrapnel, but not all. Dark blood oozed thickly from the cuts. Wright's hands hesitated over the straps that would loosen the garment. She had no bandages, no ointments. Any treatment she could offer could just as easily make the wounds worse.
And then Kai would die. Perhaps she would either way.
As if guessing her thoughts, a guttural moan slipped from Kai's throat—she twitched, as if trying to get up, her head turning against the grass. Wright clasped her shoulders tightly, shifting so Kai could see her. "Be still," she said sharply, though her voice was softened by worry. Kai's eyes roved like one caught in a fever, and when Wright touched her face again her skin was as cold as steel.
"It hurts," Kai whispered through gritted teeth. "Oh, damn you, damn you!" She hardly seemed to know Wright was there.
Wright clamped her hand against Kai's cheek hard, forcing the woman's gaze into her own. Vaguely, she wondered if Kai could feel the way her hands trembled. "Do you have anything that might ease the pain?"
At once Kai's eyes seized on her, and Wright knew at least part of her was present. "No," she said after a moment. "Drank the last of my stock two days ago. Figured we'd resupply soon enough."
Internally, Wright cursed. "Then we must keep moving," she said, forcing her voice to be firm.
Kai groaned again, in anguish as much as agony. "I cannot."
"You can," Wright said fiercely. "You've had worse than this, Kai. I've dealt you worse myself."
"Ah, but it felt sweeter somehow, when it was you doing the dealing…" Kai's gaze began to wander off, her words making no sense. She was clearly growing delirious. Wright's nails dug into her shoulder.
"If we can make it to Kenilworth's borders, we can find someone to help." It had been a four-day's ride, uninjured and with a guide. Kai knew as well as Wright she wouldn't make it that long.
Kai laughed, though there was scarcely any breath behind it. "If," she echoed mockingly. "Remember what I said: you cannot save everyone." Past the bitterness
in Kai's gaze, Wright saw a different kind of pain. An old wound, a deep regret.
Wright seized her hand in a bruising grip. "I can save you. If you'll only let me."
"I'll only slow you down. You ought to kill me now, ser. Easier on the both of us."
Anger and grief flared in Wright's heart. "I will not."
"The prospect of killing me never turned your stomach before. Am I truly unworthy of mercy?" Her face contorted as if in pain, but the laughter lingered cruelly in her eyes. "Admit it, Wright. I'm not worth it."
Even with Kai bleeding in her arms, it was more than Wright could allow. She stared into Kai's gray eyes without blinking. "Kai of Warwick, your self-pity was intolerable enough when neither of us had suffered grievous wounds. If you persist in this indulgence, I may be forced to gag you before we reach the border."
"Don't be a fool, ser, I won't have you dead on my account—" Kai said through gritted teeth. She struggled to yank away and broke off with a shudder of pain that wracked her entire body.
Wright's fingers strayed to her hair, brushing it away from Kai's face. "Neither of us is going to die. That's an order, Kai."
"Damn you." Her eyes were glazed over once again—Wright said her name, but Kai did not seem to hear. "Damn you, Wright," she repeated, softer but with more feeling. "I wish I'd known sooner. All these years, I thought my weakness for you was unreturned."
Wright went very still. Kai was not looking at her—she was not looking at anything. Her eyelashes fluttered again, the grimace set deep onto her face. "It hurts," she said again, in a smaller voice, more far away. She soon dissolved into wordless mumblings that Wright could not decipher, even when she placed her ear to Kai's lips and held her own breath until her chest ached.
With shaking hands Wright unfolded the cloth of her map across her knees. She stared down at the sketched trees and rivers and outposts as if they could offer her some kind of answer, some miraculous medical treatment or a way to turn back time. The names of enemy towns rose like impassable walls. Oakford. Red Post. Witheridge—