by Claire Frank
“Rickson, Asher and I are wanted by the Gray Cloaks and the Emperor. I was suggesting you take yourself across the sea and leave us behind.”
He pressed his lips together and gave her a look like a father about to scold a naughty child. “Rhisia Sen, do you really think I would abandon you now? I’m waist deep in your trouble. It’s my own fault for taking you on. I knew you were risky. But the greatest risks sometimes offer the biggest rewards.”
“Don’t get sentimental on me now.”
He laughed again. “I’m not the least bit sentimental. My question is, what are we going to do about the contract?”
“Like I said, the Emperor won’t ever let Asher go. I think the best we can do is get him out of the Empire’s territory.”
“I have an idea about that, but I meant the contract on you.”
Rhis let out a heavy sigh. Her plan to use Asher to negotiate her way out of the contract on her head was long dead. If she could get to Altia, she might be able to sneak her way back to her villa, and produce enough Imperials to pay off Cormant. But even that plan fell apart under the least bit of scrutiny. She’d committed the worst crime in the world of the hired killer: she had saved her mark. Not only was her reputation ruined, Cormant wouldn’t be satisfied with anything but her death. His hiring Athon made that clear. If she lived to stand before Cormant in Altia, she wouldn’t be given a chance to plead for her life, and it wouldn’t matter how much gold she tried to wave under Cormant’s nose.
“I guess we run,” she said. “I won’t be able to buy my way out of anything now.”
Rickson nodded. “Okay, we run.”
“The question is, where?”
He smiled. “Obviously the Amber Isles. It’s outside the Empire’s territory. Most of the islands are thick with pirates and scumbags of the worst sort. But on the big island, where I grew up, there’s a little town on the coast with decent enough folk, and a monastery farther inland. There’s a very old—and admittedly loose—agreement between the pirates and the monks. The big island is under the monk’s protection, so the pirates leave it be and keep their business to the outer isles.”
“Monks?” Rhis asked. “What sort?”
Rickson shrugged. “The fighting sort. Wielders, mostly, but they use it for defense. It’s all very spiritual. I never really put much stock in it for myself, all their self-discipline and meditation. But I’ve been thinking for a while, it might be a good place for Ash. I know he isn’t a Wielder, but we both know he’s not normal.”
Rhis nodded slowly. Being outside the Emperor’s territory wasn’t a guarantee Asher wouldn’t still be hunted, or even killed one day. The Empire sent assassins all over Thrae. But it might give him a chance.
“What about you?” Rhis asked.
“Most of my crew comes from the Isles. We haven’t been home in a while, so I reckon the boys won’t mind heading south. After that, we’ll just have to see. I’ve managed this long. And, in case you didn’t catch my meaning, the Amber Isles aren’t a bad place. You could find worse places to hide. It’s a sight warmer than this frozen crypt, anyway.”
Rhis glanced around. Ice crystals sparkled, reflecting the light of the setting sun, and thick icicles hung from the tree branches. The snow wrapped everything in a white blanket, muffling the sound. If it weren’t for the bodies entombed in the ice around them, Senlas would have felt downright peaceful.
“Okay, the Amber Isles.” Rhis would go with Rickson to make sure Asher had a safe place, but she had no intention of staying. Outside the Empire or not, she would never be safe, and her presence there could lead to Asher. She clutched her cloak tighter around her shoulders as Rickson went off to find a suitable place to shelter for the night. Closing her eyes, she imagined her villa, warm in the sun: her beautiful lemon trees, the fresh breeze coming off the sparkling blue water of the harbor. She’d never see her home again, of that she was certain, and a life on the run was a far cry from what she’d envisioned for herself just a few months before. But she knew all too well that life took unexpected turns, and only the strong could survive them. She’d survived one exile; she would simply have to survive another.
TWENTY-NINE: RELENTLESS
They made camp in one of the abandoned buildings. Asher and Rickson found fuel for the cookstove and the entire room quickly heated. Although water dripped from the furniture as the frost melted, the room was blissfully comfortable after so many days in the cold. The stones lining the walls and floor seemed to absorb the heat and radiate it back out into the room. Even as the fire died down in the night, the house remained warm.
Because of the heat, they slept well past daybreak. Rhis woke to find her hair matted and damp with perspiration. They had grown accustomed to sleeping huddled together against the cold, and Rhis found herself wedged between Asher and Rickson. After rising, they took a light meal and repacked their things. Although they were reluctant to venture back into the cold, they were all anxious to make their way out of the mountains and reunite with Rickson’s ship.
Rhis hoisted her pack and wrapped a cloth around her face, ready to face the frigid air. Luck appeared to be on their side; the sky was clear, with no sign of more snow.
“If this weather holds, we’ll have no trouble making it back to the cave for shelter,” Rickson said, nodding toward the blue sky. “And I reckon going downhill ought to be faster than climbing.”
“Let’s hope so,” Rhis said.
Asher paused just outside the house and turned in a slow circle. His mood had been subdued, although his eyes had brightened at Rickson’s description of the Amber Isles. He kicked a puff of snow and took a deep breath before adjusting his pack and turning to follow.
Rickson patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid. I didn’t really want to leave you all the way up here anyway.”
They walked down the path in the direction they had come the day before, their boots crunching through the ice-crusted snow. A crack cut through the silence and Rhis grabbed Asher’s cloak and pulled him between the buildings.
“What?” Rickson asked in a harsh whisper.
“I heard something,” Rhis said.
Rickson narrowed his eyes, but Asher nodded. “I did, too.”
Rhis peered around the corner of the building, squinting against the glare. It couldn’t be Athon or one of his men. They’d been buried.
A crossbow bolt zipped past and Rhis ducked behind the wall. “Shit.”
“Is someone shooting at us again?” Rickson asked.
“Obviously,” Rhis said. She pulled out her short bow, but she wasn’t going to be able to get more than a few arrows off before her fingers grew too numb to draw. Still, it was better to let the shooter know they wouldn’t go easy.
Rhis readied her bow and popped around the corner to fire. She let one loose in the direction of the bolt, but another missile flew toward her. Taking cover, she pressed her back against the wall and readied an arrow. With a deep breath, she popped out again and waited a split second for the crossbow to fire, then let loose her own arrow and turned back for cover.
“Maybe Senlas isn’t deserted,” Asher said.
“Who is it?” Rickson asked.
“I didn’t see,” Rhis said. Raising her voice, she called out to the crossbowman. “Who are you and why are you shooting at us?”
They heard footsteps crunch through the snow. “Rhisia Sen,” a voice called out.
Rhis’s eyes widened and she looked at Rickson with disbelief. “Athon? How?”
“That isn’t possible,” Rickson said.
“You must be quite accustomed to the cold,” Rhis said, loud enough for Athon to hear.
“You must have underestimated me if you thought a little snow would be enough to stop me from finishing a job.”
“Where are your friends?” Rhis asked.
“Buried, I suppose,” Athon said.
Rhis risked a quick glance around the corner. Athon stood just behind a tree trunk, pointing a hand-held cross
bow in her direction. He used his metal hand to draw back the string and fired another bolt.
“What are we going to have to do to get rid of him?” Rickson asked.
“He’s after me,” Rhis said. “I can lead him away while you get Asher safely down the mountain.”
Rickson adjusted his pack. “I don’t suppose he thinks of me kindly, what with me knocking him off my ship.”
“No, but I’m his prize. I’ll lead him in the other direction. You get Ash out of here and I’ll meet you at the cave after I take care of this.”
“Rhis, I don’t think Athon is someone you can take care of,” Rickson said. “He’s going to kill you.”
“Maybe, but you two can still get away.”
Rickson opened his mouth to keep arguing but Rhis cut him off.
“No, damn you. I am not letting Asher die up here. Get him to safety. If I’m not at the cave by nightfall, stay hidden and get yourselves off this godsforsaken mountain and back to your ship. Take Asher to the Amber Isles … and don’t let anyone kill you on the way.”
Asher’s brow furrowed. Rickson looked pained. Rhis handed Rickson her pack and strapped her bladed staff to her back.
“Go,” Rhis said.
Rickson grabbed her arm and lowered the wrap around her face with his other hand. Leaning in close, he pressed his lips to hers. They were rough and chapped, but she kissed him back, then pushed him away. “Go.”
He nodded, and Asher looked like he might speak, so Rhis turned her back on them and readied another arrow. Their footsteps faded as they ran in the other direction and disappeared around the other side of the building.
Rhis popped around the side and shot, then ducked behind the wall for cover, reloaded, and shot again. Her fingers were numb and one of her arrows stuck into the trunk.
Sucking in a breath, she darted out from her hiding place and hurried to the next building. It would have been safer to follow Rickson and Asher around the other side, but she needed to lead Athon away from them, so she sprang up again and moved deeper into Senlas. A crossbow bolt whizzed past, narrowly missing.
“You are wanted dead or alive,” Athon said. His voice was eerie as it cut through the quiet stillness of the snow-covered city. “I usually bring my quarry in alive, but in your case, I’m willing to make an exception. I’ll dump your body on Cormant’s floor and collect my fee.”
“Someone should pay me to kill you,” Rhis called back. She fumbled with an arrow, her cold fingers having a hard time fitting it to the string. “I’m sure I won’t be the only one who is happy to see you dead.”
She turned and shot, but Athon took cover behind a wall. With a quick glance behind, she darted to another hiding place.
“You can’t hide from me,” Athon said.
Veering away from the street, she cut between two buildings, luring him deeper into the village. “Come find me, then.”
Her limbs tingled with adrenaline and she paused, listening for his footfalls. She crept toward the street and risked a quick look. Athon marched up the center of the road, his crossbow ready. Damn him and his metal monstrosity. Making an intentional noise, she ducked behind the wall and a bolt flew toward her, sailing past and sinking into the snow. Rhis gritted her teeth and sprinted around the other side of the building. Her heart thundered and her breath came in gasps, as if she couldn’t get enough air.
Rhis heard Athon fire again and wondered how many bolts he had left. Stopping at the edge of another wall, she hesitated, drawing a knife from her boot. She didn’t know if the cold would have rendered the poison inert, but it was worth a try. She peeked around the wall and threw. Athon deflected the blade with his arm. Although Rhis was already on the move, Athon’s straight route was drawing him closer, and Rhis pushed her cold legs to move faster.
Another bolt fired, the sharp twang of the crossbow oddly muffled by the snow. Rhis raced out again and threw another knife but it sailed slightly wide and missed.
“Shit.”
Rhis reached the open square. There was little in the way of cover, but Athon wasn’t far behind. He’d slowed and peered around a wall before moving on. She waited for him to reach the next gap and as he paused to look, she darted through the square, making for the wide column of stone in the center. Athon growled and a bolt flew, but she slipped behind the column.
“We both know how this ends,” Athon said. “If you face me now, I won’t draw it out. I’ll kill you quickly.”
Rhis tried to catch her breath, pressing her back against the freezing column. Athon’s footfalls drew closer and Rhis dropped her bow, grabbing her staff from her back. She unlocked it and slid the blades apart, then turned the ends around to lock together with a twist.
“You didn’t think I’d be easy prey, did you?” she called. “I think the cold is getting to you.”
A bolt answered, pinging off the stone.
Tightening her grip on her staff, she darted out across the square. Athon roared. His heavy footfalls thudded behind her but she didn’t dare risk a look behind. She sprinted toward the next group of buildings, then wound her way around to the next. Athon pounded through the snow as she darted through the maze of buildings. No more bolts sailed toward her, but she didn’t know if he’d run out, or wasn’t stopping to reload. Her lungs burned and the cold stung her skin as she ran.
Rhis led Athon through the paths between buildings, criss-crossing through the gaps to keep him from guessing her location. She felt like a mouse trying to outrun a very large cat. Cutting between two structures, she paused, gasping for air.
Athon made a noise like the growl of a wild animal as he rounded the corner, and Rhis sprinted in the other direction. The ground opened, the snow thick, and she looked around wildly, wondering where to go. She’d run out of cover so she turned, flexing her cold fingers around the shaft of her staff, the blades glinting in the sun.
With his teeth bared, Athon charged, brandishing a thick blade. It clanged off Rhis’s staff as she blocked. She staggered backward under the force of his blow. Up close, she could see Athon’s face was battered with mottled purple splotches and the tip of his nose was red and peeling. He struck again and she whipped her staff up to meet his cut, but his strength was terrifying.
Fear wormed its way through her gut as Athon pushed her back. He was fast, and monstrously strong. Her quickness kept his blade at bay, but her arms ached and her lungs burned. Their weapons clashed, ringing out in the still air. Rhis swung her staff. He parried her strike and she slipped backward, her feet sliding through the ice and snow.
Athon pressed his attack. His next cut nearly split her in two. As his blade shot through the air to finish her, she retreated, holding her staff out to catch the fury of his blow. Her feet slipped again and the ground seemed to turn to liquid. The terrain tilted sharply downhill and she tumbled down the slope.
Waving his hands for balance, Athon seemed to hover in midair before crashing down the hill after her. Rhis hit the ground, the solid ice beneath the powder smashing the breath from her lungs. She rolled, the snow battering her like rocks, wedging itself into her mouth. Sucking in a breath through her nose, she tried to spit out the freezing slush and snatched in vain for something to stop the bruising slide down the slope.
The ground fell away and her stomach lurched as she sailed into empty air. The sky opened above her as if, for a brief moment, she flew. She hit the ground with a burst of pain and lights danced across her vision. She rolled to a stop, nearly buried in snow, and quickly turned her face out of the ice so she could breathe. Athon hit nearby with a heavy thud. Rhis tried to move, pushing against the ground in an attempt to get up.
A loud crack echoed in her ears and the ground shuddered. The world disappeared beneath her, the solid ground crumbling out of existence. Ice and snow fell around her in a rush as she plunged past icy blue walls, her stomach lurching as she fell.
THIRTY: CREVASSE
Blinking her eyes open, Rhis groaned. Her mouth tasted of blood and she
couldn’t tell where the throbbing pain originated. Everything hurt. Whether it was from the biting cold or injuries sustained in the fall, she couldn’t yet tell.
Walls of shining blue surrounded her. Ice. She must have fallen into a crack beneath the snow. The top was well above her, just a narrow slit of blue sky. She lay wedged against the sheer wall, partially turned on her side, and a pile of chunky white rubble surrounded her. Cold, jagged edges bit into her back. Carefully, she tried moving her arms, and found that she ached but there was no sharp pain that would indicate broken bones in her upper limbs.
She bent one knee, moving with care in case there were injuries she wasn’t aware of. Her left leg seemed fine, but when she tried to move the other, it wouldn’t budge. Wedged between the ice wall and the rubble, it was stuck fast.
“Shit.”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Athon’s voice echoed from the walls.
Rhis gasped and tried to look around. Her view was limited because of her stuck leg, but she saw no sign of Athon.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Trapped,” he said. It was hard to tell where his voice was coming from.
Rhis pulled her leg, trying to force it to move, but the ice held it fast. Although, as she looked up at the opening, she wondered whether getting her leg free would matter. The spikes in her boots might not be enough to help her ascend the slick walls; she had no way to climb out.
The metal of her staff glittered nearby, the length of one blade protruding from the snow. It might help her scale the wall, if she could reach it.
“It’s pointless, you know,” Athon said.
“What?”
“Trying to get out.”
Rhis ignored him and wiggled her toes, making sure they would still move. Her stuck leg hurt, and there were no doubt bruises over most of her body, but she was fairly certain she’d be able to walk.
“There is one comfort in our situation,” Athon said.