Angel's Knight

by A. J. Grimmelhaus

  ‘Why?’ he asked, his voice a rough bark. ‘Why would you charge into a bloody battlefield, woman? You’re supposed to be smart, not… not do something like this.’

  Katarina sheathed her remaining knife and folded her arms. ‘You shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.’

  ‘That’s why you came?’ He muttered something under his breath – surely a curse – and stared at her for several seconds. For a moment there was only her and Steven, the growing sounds of battle fading into a whisper as their eyes met. She felt her heartbeat quicken, flutter slightly, and the beginnings of a blush surge to her cheeks. He severed the connection abruptly, turning to his left and striding over to the crumpled form of Stetch.

  ‘We don’t have time for this,’ he said, and his voice was hard, cruel. ‘We have to get you out of here before the Gurdal reach us.’

  ‘You should have come to see me,’ Katarina said, ‘then I wouldn’t have been forced to come and find you.’ Her voice sounded childish and petulant even to her own ears. ‘You only have yourself to blame.’

  His head snapped towards her, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. It dissipated quickly, but not before Katarina saw the hurt hidden underneath. I’ve gone too far, she thought as he knelt next to Stetch. It wasn’t her fault, not really, he just had a way of saying the most annoying things at the worst possible moment. He really should know better by now.

  She opened her mouth to stop him just as he gave Stetch a shove. Before the warning was out of her mouth, Stetch’s eyes opened and he promptly punched Steven in the face. Squatting over Stetch’s prone form, Steven tumbled backwards, landing roughly on his rump. He blinked and rubbed his jaw as Stetch used the wall to claw his way upright.

  Katarina covered her mouth with a hand, hiding the smile as she remembered the first time the two men had met. On that occasion it was Steven who had been unconscious, instinctively lashing out as Stetch had booted him awake. It was also, she admitted, a kind of punishment for his harsh words which the universe had decided to deliver in prompt, blunt fashion.

  ‘And you,’ Steven said to Stetch as he picked himself up off the ground, ‘you ought to know better. What were you thinking, bringing her into a city under siege?’

  Stetch stared at him a moment, and Katarina felt her breath stick in her throat as Stetch became very still; such moments usually presaged extreme violence. Surprisingly, Stetch just shrugged. ‘You try making her see reason,’ he grumbled, taking a few wobbly steps and picking up his sword from the sand. He held it up, the steel wavering in his grip, and Katarina felt a fleeting spasm of guilt. For a few brief moments he had stood against a demon, even though he knew the futility of such an act. He might be annoying, but he is one of the finest warriors the Sworn have among their ranks. Possibly the greatest of them all. Of course, she would never tell him that.

  Steven put an arm on Stetch’s shoulder, his voice full of concern. ‘Can you walk?’

  Stetch grunted, and shoved Steven’s arm away. The dark look he sent Steven’s way made it clear that the question should never, ever be asked again.

  Steven read the look correctly, though Katarina still saw a hint of concern on his bloody, dirt-stained face.

  ‘We need to get her out of here,’ Steven said, ‘the Gurdal aren’t far away.’

  And now he’s ignoring me, Katarina thought as Stetch grunted quietly. And he calls me childish!

  ‘Well?’ Steven asked when Stetch didn’t move. ‘Are we going?’

  Katarina followed Stetch’s gaze, and saw his eyes fixed on the demon’s corpse. She walked over to it, instantly regretting her decision to inhale as she bent over and plucked her throwing knife from the demon’s eye. She stood up straight and found both men staring at her.

  ‘Well?’ she said, wiping the dark gunk from the blade on Steven’s shirt – it was in such a state that it couldn’t really look any worse. ‘I thought you two were in a hurry?’ Neither answered, continuing to stare at her like they’d just realised she was more than a duke’s daughter. She shrugged in answer to the unasked question. ‘I warned it,’ Katarina said. ‘I said it wouldn’t soon forget me.’ She strode past the dumbstruck men towards the mouth of the alley. She was within a dozen yards of the main street when a clump of bedraggled shadows backpedalled into view, retreating northward from the shifting battleground.

  Oh. In moments, the shapes had blocked the mouth of the alley, a slow procession filing past as the roar of battle grew. How perfectly inconvenient, she thought.

  Steven – she still couldn’t think of him as Tol - grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards. ‘Hurry,’ he said, ‘we’ll have to hope the other end’s clear.’ They passed Stetch, and the warrior turned unsteadily to follow them as Steven pulled her in his wake along the narrow street.

  Katarina tugged her arm free. ‘I’m quite capable of walking,’ she said but Steven ignored her, carrying on towards the opposite end of the road as though it didn’t matter or not whether she followed. Idiot, she thought. I leave him alone for a few days and he starts getting ideas about his own importance. She stalked along behind him, noticing that the back of his shirt looked no less scruffy than the front: there was a tear in the fabric just above his hip and a dark stain which in the moonlight looked almost like dried blood. And he’s still getting into trouble. I’m surprised he’s lived this long without me. Katarina increased her pace, her short legs pumping at a lacklustre jog to overtake him; a duke’s daughter was not a follower.

  Katarina passed between the uniformly boring sandstone walls, the noise of battle from behind slowly fading to be replaced by a muted cacophony from somewhere up ahead. A lone cloud passed in front of Ammerlac above, and the street darkened. There! The end of the street was up ahead, a faint smudge where the shadow was different. A few dozen more steps and she could finally be done with him, return home with Stetch and never have to see him again.

  A hand alighted on her shoulder, and Katarina felt Steven’s warm breath on her cheek as he whispered in her ear, ‘They’re not our soldiers.’

  She peered ahead and slowly, as the soft light of Ammerlac escaped its cloud prison, Katarina made out shapes ahead, moving at the end of the street and blocking off any chance of escape. How did he see that without the moonlight? That was another annoying thing about him: he had secrets now, and hoarded them like a merchant’s gold.

  ‘What now?’ she asked.

  Steven didn’t answer immediately, looking back the way they had come and ignoring Katarina as if she wasn’t important. When he did speak, it was to curse softly. ‘They’re already at the far end,’ he muttered.

  Katarina looked over her shoulder, but all she saw was darkness. She heard footsteps though, and they sounded like they were getting closer.

  Steven wrapped his hand around her arm. ‘Quietly,’ he whispered, and then the fool pulled her after him as he slipped along the corridor, heading directly for the Gurdal at the end.

  They’ll see us any moment, Katarina thought. ‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.

  He ignored her yet again – a situation which was rapidly becoming intolerable – and kept moving forward. The fool kept glancing up at the rooftops, as though expecting someone to lower a rope at any moment. Or for that bloody angel to appear, Katarina thought. The one time we could use some help and the winged harridan is nowhere to be seen. Typical!

  Only forty yards separated them from the Gurdal at the end of the street now, but still he kept pulling her towards them, sword held out in front of him like a lantern. The footsteps behind were getting louder, too, and a glance over her shoulder showed concern writ clear on Stetch’s lined face as he followed her and Steven.

  ‘It has to be here,’ Steven muttered. He was still taking them towards the main street and the massed ranks of the Gurdal. By the sounds of it, the battle was only just down the street – the clashing line of two armies worryingly close. But we’re still the wrong side of it, Katarina thought. She let out a quiet breath, reali
sing that whatever Steven was looking for wouldn’t save them. They would die in this narrow little street, and nobody would ever know that it was all his fault. She looked up; the cloud obscuring Ammerlac was moving now, and in moments the moonlight would return in full, and then the Gurdal would see them.

  ‘You didn’t say goodbye,’ she whispered as he inched along, his head making minute movements as he studied the alley. He can’t even bring himself to look at me.

  ‘Not now,’ he said after a moment.

  ‘We’re going to die,’ she hissed at him, ‘so there isn’t another time.’ He let out a surprised grunt as she wrenched him by the arm, turning him to face her.

  ‘Why did you rescue me from Calderon?’

  He stared at her, weak moonlight illuminating the muscles bulging in his jaw. ‘Because I love you, you idiot,’ he snapped.

  Katarina’s mouth fell open as he winced, realising he had shouted. They looked down the alley at the same time. They were close enough that Katarina could see several heads turn towards them. She kicked Steven in the shin and her voice rose to a shriek. ‘You pick now to tell me that, you stupid man?’

  ‘You asked,’ he grunted. He turned and took a couple of steps towards the Gurdal, several of whom were already extricating themselves from the tightly-pressed knot of men and stumbling into the alley. And then, in a fit of pique, Steven lashed out and kicked the wall. Except, the patch he kicked was a lighter shade, and set back from the rest of the wall. The door splintered, and Katarina realised that’s what he had been looking for all along.

  Steven glanced back at her. ‘Are you coming then?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, just stepped through the gap and was lost to sight.

  34.

  Katarina stared at the Gurdal rushing towards her. He loves me? She heard Stetch curse, and then she was picked up and thrown through the doorway and into the darkness as he muttered a long string of curses, one of which she had never heard before; she wasn’t sure it was even a proper curse.

  He loves me?

  She felt Stetch’s hand on the small of her back, pushing her forwards deeper into the building. Without even moonlight, the darkness was total and Katarina couldn’t see beyond the reach of her arm. She took a few shuffling steps forward, propelled by Stetch. She held a hand out in front of her, feeling that strange apprehension that impenetrable darkness brought: was there a wall ahead, or something sharp, or some other obstacle?

  We’re going to die in here. She took a deep breath as Stetch forced her forward through the darkness. ‘Steven? I can’t see a bloody—’

  Her left foot hit something solid and Katarina fell forwards. She hit something solid and sweaty halfway down and felt a hand steady her. She was dimly aware of the solid thing her head rested against expanding and contracting like a fast-breathing chest.

  ‘I’ve got you,’ Steven said, his voice just above her head. His arm steadied her and hauled her upright.

  ‘I can’t see,’ she said.

  He took her hand in his, and Katarina sensed a moment’s hesitation. ‘I can see for both of us,’ he said.

  ‘Move,’ Stetch growled behind her. His calloused hand alighted on Katarina’s shoulder and gripped it firmly enough that she winced.

  She felt movement through Steven’s hand, and a moment later, she was pulled along, their hands entwined. He moved quickly, and Katarina let herself be guided by his hand. ‘What is this place?’ she asked.

  ‘A warehouse,’ Steven answered quietly, his steps growing bolder as though he could see perfectly well despite the total absence of light. ‘We must be near the docks.’

  ‘Ale?’ Stetch asked over Katarina’s shoulder.

  ‘Empty.’

  A warehouse? The place would be full of obstacles: shelves, empty sacks or crates. And rats. I hate rats. ‘We’re going to die in here,’ she muttered.

  ‘Quiet,’ Steven whispered. ‘If you can’t see in here, the Gurdal can’t either.’

  Katarina opened her mouth, a hot retort already on her lips, but as her lips parted she heard them: men stumbling into the dark confines of the warehouse. The sound travelled like a pealing bell and she couldn’t tell how far behind their pursuers were – ten yards? Twenty? They sounded like they were on Stetch’s shoulder, and Katarina fought the urge to panic, to break into a sprint and escape. She bit her lip, and continued to follow Steven, the tremulous connection between their hands the only thing holding the panic at bay.

  He had better be telling the truth, she thought. If he’s lying and walks into something… She left the thought unfinished: if they couldn’t escape quietly, the Gurdal would kill them. And if Steven can’t find a door we’re dead anyway.

  She inhaled silently, releasing her breath in a slow, sustained exhalation – another lesson from the Sworn, men long-practiced in the art of lying in wait only feet from their prey. Behind her she could hear the Gurdal jabbering away in their language. They were moving, but making a lot of noise, and Katarina fought the urge to laugh as someone toppled over, a curse on his lips. It was a language she didn’t understand, but the man’s frustration was something that crossed such boundaries.

  Steven’s hand pulled her to her right, and the trio turned at right-angles. They were, Katarina guessed, roughly parallel with the outside wall.

  The noise from the pursuing Gurdal died down amid a flurry of shouts and rasped whispers. As the warehouse fell quiet, Katarina realised Steven was absolutely silent. If it wasn’t for their tenuous physical connection, she wouldn’t know he was only inches in front of her. He wasn’t like this when I first met him, she thought, remembering their first meeting when a fur-clad boy stumbled into an inn full of enemies like a village dolt. What has happened to him that changed that nice – if stubborn – boy who was so naïve? Katarina already knew though. The angel changed him. He had told her, back in Meracia before Calderon had kidnapped her. Katarina had been about to turn her back on him forever, and had the door open when something in his voice drew her back. “What she did,” he had said, “it changed me… made me heal quicker.” Even that had been a half-truth, an evasion, but Katarina recalled something in his eyes, a certain look, and now she thought it might have been shame. What could he have done, she thought, that was so terrible? More to the point, what did that winged creature do to Steven?

  They turned left, the sounds of pursuit echoing across the warehouse as men stumbled and swore. I will have the truth, Katarina promised herself. Whatever happened, I will know the truth. If Steven truly feels as he claims, he will tell me everything. That will be the test.

  She heard a collision somewhere to her left. A second later a gurgle followed, and Katarina knew the Gurdal had killed one of their own by mistake. She smiled in the darkness as Steven led her forwards, his calloused hand enfolding her own.

  But the truth is only one side of this, Katarina thought. The other side… was complicated. Did she feel the same way about him? He had saved her life once or twice, but she had done the same for him many more times. He was infuriating, too, and never listened, instead blundering along in a bull-like fashion. And then there’s the matter of him being a commoner – and the son of one of the most reviled men in history. It didn’t bother her, but Katarina suspected her father would see things a little differently. She smiled in the darkness. There was something deliciously illicit about noblewoman taking a common knight as a lover. Father would have a fit.

  Katarina smiled. Now all she had to do was work out what she wanted, and how she really felt about the sullen knight who at turns drove her mad and saved her life. Sometimes both in the same minute.

  *

  Steven slowed to a halt, and Katarina felt herself pressed up against his side, heat leaching through her tunic. She drew in a breath and inhaled a pungent mix of sweat, blood and something which she hoped was dead demon. We are going to have to talk about bathing habits, she decided.

  A sliver of moonlight opened up two feet away, and Steven slipped through, his hand draw
ing Katarina after him.

  She stepped out into a world of noise and fury, but one with enough pale moonlight to make out her surroundings.

  ‘Close the door,’ Steven called past her as Stetch followed them out into the night. ‘It might slow them down.’

  Katarina pointed over Steven’s shoulder. ‘And what about them?’ They were in another alley, parallel to the one they had left minutes ago, and judging by the men pouring in from the main road they were still some distance from the defensive line. Katarina looked back over her shoulder and saw men coming in from that direction, too. Most definitely the wrong side of the line.

  Steven cursed. ‘Come on,’ he shouted. He took off, and Katarina was pulled along in his wake, their hands still entwined. They had come out of the warehouse about three-quarters of the way down the alley, and Steven was leading them towards the more distant end of the alley. She saw a tiny gap in the wall ahead on their right. The Gurdal were running towards them though, and Katarina wasn’t sure they’d reach it in time. It’s going to be close.

  She heard steel bared to the night, and knew Stetch had seen it too. Her legs pumped faster as Steven’s pace increased, half-dragging her along behind him. We’re not going to make it, she thought as the Gurdal came towards them, we’re not going to—

  Steven slowed, jinking abruptly to his right. Katarina caught a flash of bared teeth looming in front of her then she was turning, Steven’s arm pulling her after him into a sliver of street barely five feet wide. A cry echoed close behind and Katarina heard a mirthless chuckle as a familiar presence loomed behind her: Stetch had made it through, and by the sound had added to his account in the Sworn’s ledger.

  Steven kept up a gruelling pace, the narrow confines of the alley sparking an ember of panic in Katarina. What if we’re trapped in here? What if there’s no way out? She passed crumbling, derelict buildings, the ground uneven as Steven pulled her onwards. He glanced over his shoulder, and as he moved Katarina caught a glimpse of the passage ahead. Twenty feet away she could see the wall coming across, blocking their path. We’re going to die.