“Then let’s go.”
“You stop that right now, Thorn!” the old man was shouting. The room was vibrating, making the old Rabbit’s voice tremble.
“I’m the Thorn again?” Veranix asked, forcing the words out through short breath. “I thought you wanted to call me Tyson.”
“Saints, what is that?” someone shouted in the distance.
“You’ve got me hooked up to those tanks of the Red, hmm?” Veranix said. “I bet that’s some sensitive cooking. How much of me do you think they can take?”
Now the numina was a torrent pouring out of his body, wave after wave. The coils felt white hot on his skin, but his whole body was heat and fire and magic.
The old man pulled out a knife. “You stop that now!”
“Or what?” Veranix shouted. Dust and debris started to fall down from the ceiling, and the walls were shaking. “What about this whole old building? How much could it handle?”
In the distance something burst, like a blast of a teakettle.
The old man ran out of sight.
Veranix’s heart was pounding. He didn’t have much more to give. More bursts and blasts. Veranix hoped those were the vats of the Red, whatever the stuff was, boiling over, useless.
Then something above them cracked—a horrible sound of wood breaking apart, and then a collapse. Maybe he had broken the building.
Which was good, because he couldn’t push himself anymore. There was nothing but pain and heat, like his body was an ember of a dying fire.
“You will pay for that with blood, Thorn! I’m going to cut you open and wear your stomach as a hat! You’ll—”
Then there was a thump and the solid sound of a body hitting the floor.
Footsteps approached slowly. Then a very familiar voice spoke.
“Do I even want to know what happened to you?”
“Kai?”
She came into view.
“I did tell you I would punch people in the face.”
“Please tell me you can get me out of this contraption.”
“At least this time you ended up the naked one.” She looked far too amused by this.
“Kai!” There wasn’t time for this.
“Sorry,” she said, examining the coil around his arm. A bit more urgency came in her voice as she worked her fingers under the metal. “I shouldn’t joke. I knocked out the old man, but there’re still a couple Rabbits upstairs. Of course, part of the roof collapsed.”
“Only a couple?” Veranix asked. “Cuse was here, but . . . he’s going to the campus.”
With a grunt, she pulled the coil and it moved far more easily than Veranix thought it would have. “Soft metal,” she muttered.
“I couldn’t move it from in here,” he said defensively.
“Wasn’t judging,” she said. “He’s got another prank planned?”
“Beyond anything else. He used this—used me—to charge up the numina for his plan. So this will be bigger than all the others put together.” Veranix worked his hand free. “It’ll be my fault.”
“No,” Kaiana said, moving to the other hand. “You can’t think that.”
“If I hadn’t gotten captured . . .”
“Then we stop him, Vee.” Her eyes went wide. “The wagon!”
“Wagon?”
“There was a wagon, and Delmin felt something on it, and he couldn’t move, but I came in here . . .”
Veranix got his other hand out. “Delmin is here?”
“On the street,” she said. “With some Prince who wants to help you.”
“My gear, find it,” Veranix said. He bent down and got his legs free. “Not Colin?”
“No. A kid, really,” she said, going off out of sight.
“I know who you mean.” Jutie—the kid who had been there for the past few scrapes. Veranix appreciated the loyalty, though he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
Kai came back with his clothes. He had now gotten out of the contraption, and as soon as he was free, he felt a shift in his magical energy. The cloak was charging him again, but it was the false strength the cloak gave. His own energy was still quite depleted.
“Weapons?” he asked as he got dressed again. “With the noise of the collapse, it can’t be long before the Constabulary show. I’m not their favorite person, either.”
“I probably don’t want to see them either,” Kaiana said.
“Worry more about them seeing you,” Veranix said, finishing doing up his vest. “In fact, get out ahead. I’ll find my stuff.”
“You think I’m leaving you?”
Veranix should have expected that. “No, but—”
“But nothing.” She produced his bow and quiver. “You’re pretty light on arrows.”
“I only need one good shot.” Veranix strapped them on. “Cuse couldn’t have gotten very far.”
“Except he’s on a wagon with several Red Rabbits.”
Veranix spotted his staff lying in a corner. “I’ll think of something.” He grabbed it and went up the stairs.
Kai was right on his heels. “That got you into this mess.”
“But this time I have you here.” He shaded his face—not that it really mattered, given what the old Rabbit said—as he reached the main brewery floor.
The place was in shambles—vats fallen over, smashed open. The red poison pooling on the ground, draining off to the sewer grates. One of the support pillars had broken, and the roof had collapsed there.
And on the far side, Keckin and Sotch were limping out the door, half carrying each other.
“You’re letting them go?” Kaiana whispered to him.
“They aren’t worth wasting an arrow on.”
“Am I?”
That question was asked just as something whistled past his face, far closer than he would have liked. It hit the wall—a razor-sharp disc, sticking where it struck—but Veranix’s attention went to the source. The dark-haired woman in the scandalous blue outfit.
He snapped an arrow into the bow and took aim. “Now’s not playtime, Bluejay.”
“But it is,” she said, swirling her bladed hoops on her arms.
“That’s Bluejay?” Kaiana gasped.
“And since you broke Blackbird’s wings, I had to bring a different friend.”
Veranix barely saw the flash of blonde hair before she was right next to him, releasing a flurry of punches at him. He dropped back to dodge, releasing the arrow in a wild shot. Before this new girl could get a solid hit, he grabbed Kai’s arm and forced some hard magic into his legs, jumping over several of the large vats into a far corner of the warehouse.
Kai screamed, half fear, half joy, as they landed.
“Is this what it’s always like?” she asked.
Veranix grabbed another arrow, taking a quick count as he drew it. Five left. “Kai, don’t argue.”
“About—”
“You’re going to run while I keep these two busy, hear?”
“But—”
“I need you to stop Cuse, Kai. Clear?”
“Thorn, we know where you are,” the blonde bird called in singsong laughter. “Come on, come on.”
“Ready,” he whispered. “Now!”
He spun from behind the cask and fired at the blonde, who dodged out of the way. The shot would have been true to her heart, but a second after he released, he sent a wisp of magic into the arrow, curving it toward Bluejay.
She wasn’t ready for that, and didn’t get her hoops up in time to block it. Of course, his aim was atrocious, and only grazed her bare arm.
But that was enough to get her attention while Kai went for the door. Good use of an arrow. Only four left.
“The Napa!” the blonde one shouted. She made a run, drawing out three darts from a bandolier. Without breaking stride, she fired
them off in rapid succession.
One hit Kai in the arm, which caused her to cry out and stumble. Veranix instinctively shot out a burst of magic to knock the other two off course.
“She’s not our game, Magpie,” Bluejay said. “Let her run.”
The blonde—Magpie—chuckled. “Fine. I get to kill a mage.” She turned on Veranix, who had swapped out the bow for the staff. Both these ladies could dodge and block him all day, so there was no sense in wasting arrows on them. Or the day. If his magic was at full strength, he could have stuck these two to the floor and been on his way.
But magic was in tighter reserves than his arrows. Just knocking the darts off course made him lightheaded, and that was with the cloak.
So his staff and his wits were the only things left to hold off these two Deadly Birds. Hopefully he could keep them at bay long enough.
No one had been in the room for hours as far as Bell could tell. Something had happened after the noise and shouting that had taken their full attention. That was for the best, as he wanted no further part in having to listen to Sotch and Keckin act like the proverbial rabbits.
Then the walls shook apart.
Something had fallen on Bell, but he couldn’t tell what with the hood over his head. It was heavy, but only heavy enough to be annoying. It was clear that no one was bothering to check on him. That gave him all the reasons to pull and strain at his bonds with no worries about being caught. They had tied him tight, and he tore up his wrists working his way loose, but after several minutes he got one hand free. He pulled off the hood and saw that he was in an abandoned office of some sort. A bookcase—thankfully empty—had fallen on top of him.
It took several more minutes, but eventually he pulled his way out from under the case.
He looked around the room to see what he could use as a weapon. The best option was the rope he had been tied up with.
A commotion came from outside the office, somewhere on the brewery floor. Grabbing the rope, Bell slipped out cautiously to see what was going on.
The first thing he saw was the girl—the assassin Bluejay, specifically. He had seen her the other night, half in the dark, but in the light of day she was astounding. The bladed hoops spun on her hips effortlessly, to mesmerizing effect. Bell could watch her spin all day if he had the chance.
Of course, she was using those blades to try to slice up the Thorn, who was fighting like blazes to hold off her attacks, as well as another bird, a blonde one. Bell didn’t know that one’s name, but she was clearly tough and fast, blocking the Thorn’s staff attacks with just her arms. Bell didn’t know why her arms weren’t broken from that, but she kept at it.
For both the birds the fight was fluid and easy. They seemed to be having the time of their lives.
For the Thorn it was anything but effortless. Every move was desperate, a last-second block or dodge to avoid being sliced or punched. He was losing ground, backing away with every attack the girls made.
Bell almost felt bad for the guy. At least he would, if the Thorn didn’t deserve such a thorough beating.
But after a bit it was clear they were just playing with him, wearing him down.
Bell could have stayed up on the office steps, and had a grand view of the whole thing. But he wanted to be closer. He wanted the Thorn to know he was there. After all the taunts and jibes, Bell wanted the Thorn to see his face when he died.
Coming down to the brewery floor, he could see that the Thorn hadn’t been so lucky with those last-second dodges and blocks. He had more than a few cuts on his arms and shoulders, but despite that, he was still fighting like blazes.
As Bell got closer, the Thorn took a punch from the blonde, but managed to feint and pivot, using the blonde’s body as a shield from Bluejay’s strike. She took a bad hit, crying out, and right at that moment, the Thorn slammed his staff into the ground, and the room shook. A blast of something burst away from the Thorn, hitting the two birds and Bell, knocking them all to the ground.
They all dropped, and he dashed. Bell pulled himself up on his elbows, but by the time he could see, the Thorn had made it out the door.
“You let him get away!” he yelled at them.
“Who the blazes are you?” the blonde asked.
Bluejay hopped to her feet and stepped into the center of her fallen hoops. “He works for the client.” She hooked her feet under her bladed hoops on the ground, and in a moment got them spinning around her body again, as easy as breathing. “Don’t worry, friend. His death is supposed to be public.”
Her hips still swaying, she dashed after the Thorn, far faster than Bell imagined anyone could be while keeping those blades spinning.
The blonde wasn’t quite as quick. Her vest had taken the brunt of the slice, but blood was oozing from it. “She’s right,” she said, walking after them. “And he’s not going far.”
Bell was about to follow when he heard another noise from behind him. He spun around and saw an old man—the Old Rabbit who had killed his boys and taunted him. Before he even realized what he was doing, Bell’s hand was around the old Rabbit’s throat.
“Wait—” the old man gasped.
“Oh, now you want me to wait?” Bell spat at him. “I told you who I was. I am Dentonhill. I am Fenmere.” He squeezed tighter.
“But—I can—I can tell you—who he—”
Bell didn’t bother to find out what the Old Rabbit could tell him as his hands tightened. There was nothing that man could say that he cared to hear.
The old man could tell his secrets to whatever sinner found his soul.
Chapter 24
THE PRINCE LED DELMIN through a maze of alleys, shop hallways, and one family’s kitchen, running so fast Delmin’s heart threatened to burst through his ribs. But the pain in his chest was nothing compared to the tearing in his skull, the shredding power coming from that wagon. He couldn’t see it at any point in their mad dash, but he always knew exactly where it was.
And then there was a change, a pulse of power, almost imperceptible. A wrong note in an orchestra of agony. But it forced Delmin to stumble and fall in the alley. The Prince was right on it, grabbing Delmin by the arm.
“Come on, Uni, not far now.”
“Already at the gate,” Delmin said, forcing the words out. “I don’t think anything is stopping them.”
The Prince hauled Delmin over his shoulder and dragged him along. “You’re telling me that a wagon full of blazing Red Rabbits could get through the Uni gate? You can’t sell me that.”
They came out of the alley with a clear view of the gate, and there was no sign of the wagon. There were the fading remnants of a bluish mist and a scent of magic lingering. But more disturbing was how the cadets, the rest of the wagoneers, and several folk on the street stood completely still.
Like statues.
Delmin instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his shirt, not that it would do much good.
“Blazes is this?” the Prince asked.
“Stay back,” Delmin said, forcing himself to pull in numina despite the screaming in his head. It was there, all around, he just needed to claim it.
This was the hardest part. As well as he could see it, drawing in numina and keeping it always felt like holding boiling water in his hands. Even if he could force himself to stand it, it would still seep through his fingers.
He had to hold on to it, had to build up enough. Even though his body scorched, joints on fire, he held that power in with every ounce of strength he had.
How did Veranix do this so effortlessly?
He had drawn in more than he could ever stand, more than he ever had before, and then forced it to become breath. His breath, the only way he could visualize it, which put that fire and energy into his own lungs.
Then he opened his mouth and let it come out of him, a tremendous gust of wind through the street.
He opened them to find himself on his knees, leaning on the Prince, who took it with grace.
“Blazes, Uni, what did you do?”
“I’m not sure, but that was all I had,” Delmin said. The mist was all gone, though. The people in front of the gate were moving now, at least starting to.
“Well, that was a damn thing, all right.” He pulled Delmin onto his feet. “Come on.”
They only made it two steps before they almost collided into Kaiana, running like a madwoman. Her arm was sliced open and bleeding.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“The wagon, it was him,” Delmin said.
“I know, we have to stop him.”
“What about the Thorn?” the Prince demanded.
Kaiana faltered. “He told me to run. Two—two assassins were on him, and he made me go ahead.”
The Prince looked back at the people by the gate, who were now falling over, heaving and convulsing. Whatever the Prankster had done didn’t kill them, but coming out of it looked horrifying. “Because that guy has to be stopped.”
“Right,” Kaiana said.
The Prince pushed Delmin onto Kai, and she barely was able to grab him before he fell to the ground. That act of magic had left him with almost no strength in his legs at all. “He thinks he knows what to do. So you better get on it.”
“What are you doing?” Kaiana asked. The Prince had stripped off Delmin’s coat, tossed it to them, and drawn two knives.
“I’m going to go help the Thorn, because I bet you’re going to need him.”
Then he went back in the alley.
“Delmin, you’re a mess,” Kaiana said. She didn’t even bother trying to help him walk, instead throwing him over her shoulder.
“So are you. Your arm—”
“Worry about it later,” she said, carrying him past the people retching on the street. “How can we stop Jensett?”
“I don’t know how, exactly,” Delmin said. “But I’ve got a very good idea about who.”
Running was pointless. Veranix had almost no lead on the Birds, and he had no doubt that either Bluejay or Magpie could catch up to him in his current state. He might have wounded them both, but he was hurting on every level. The blast of magic that gave him his opening to escape had taken him too long to build up, and hadn’t been strong enough to do much besides buy him a few moments.
The Alchemy of Chaos: A Novel of Maradaine (Maradaine Novels) Page 30