‘Come on, little man,’ the Agent growled. ‘See what you can do against a real weapon.’
Keshik flicked his metal blade forward, but stopped the movement short of an attack. Blood shot off the blade and splashed into the man’s face. He involuntarily recoiled as the thick, warm fluid stung his eyes. Keshik took advantage and drove both blades in under the Agent’s guard.
When the big man fell, another screamed as Tatya ripped him open and a third fell from his horse to reveal a shocking wound from a silent attack. The sounds and the blood seemed to completely dispirit the remaining Agents. As one, they wrenched their horses around and galloped away. Keshik wiped his blades on the blue cloak of a dead Agent before sheathing them. Without another glance at the carnage, he ran towards Maida.
Slave wiped his Claw and held it up to catch the last rays of sunlight. Tatya sat licking her paws, staring at him with a steady gaze.
‘A spurre,’ Slave said quietly. ‘What is a spurre doing here?’
‘What is a Scaren warlord doing here?’ Tatya countered.
Slave’s shock was complete, both at the fact that she spoke and at what she said. For several heartbeats, he could do nothing but stare at her.
‘What?’ he finally managed to say.
‘The Scaren are all dead. How can you be here?’
‘How can you say that?’
‘I know the Scaren.’
‘How?’
Tatya shimmered and became the yellow-haired woman. ‘I know the Scaren,’ she repeated. ‘And they are extinct. You cannot exist.’ As she spoke, she walked towards Slave. Her breathing became heavier and her cheeks grew flushed. ‘You are a warlord,’ she whispered. ‘You have the power. It can’t be true, but it is.’ Tatya came close and reached out a hand to rest on Slave’s scarred cheek. ‘Quickly, while you are close — I can feel the power. Speak the words and set me free. Even being close to you I can feel its strength weakening. Quickly,’ she repeated. ‘Speak the words.’
‘What words? What are you?’
Tatya scowled. ‘It is there, I feel it. But it needs awakening.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘It is worth the risk.’ Without warning, she slashed at him. Her hand blurred as it moved, her fingers shifting briefly into claws that ripped into his chest.
Slave hissed in pain and instinctively lashed out with his Claw. It bit deep into Tatya’s arm, making her yowl in pain and complete the shift back into the spurre. Slave felt the black rage descend faster than ever before, filling his mind with fury. In the moment before he lost all sense, he heard a female voice scream a name and then everything went black.
45
‘… how many?’
‘Twenty Agents, more civilians.’
‘And Itxtli as well.’
‘Sssa, he’s a loss.’
‘Just the three of them?’
‘Just the three of them. But mainly this one.’
‘And the spurre?’
‘Gone.’
‘Good. What about the woman and the Tulugma?’
‘Gone, too.’
Slave moaned and tried to move but he was bound hand and foot, as well as gagged. His eyes flickered open to look up at the women who were speaking. When they saw he was conscious, they both stepped back a pace.
One woman was wearing a leather blindfold. Slave could not take his eyes off her, guessing who she had to be. She stepped forward and removed his gag, her fingers soft and trembling slightly on his skin.
‘You are the Blindfolded Queen?’ he asked.
‘I am Quetzalxoitl, the Blindfolded Queen, yes.’
‘Where am I?’
‘You are in my home.’
‘Keshik?’
‘The Tulugma Swordmaster?’
Slave nodded.
‘He fled with Maida.’
‘And the spurre?’
‘She has also fled. But not with them.’
Slave did not want to ask what had happened after he had lost control again; the conversation he had overheard had told him enough. Civilians? Innocent people killed? How many had he killed himself? How many innocent people had to die before he could learn to control this fury?
He closed his eyes again.
‘Go and fetch a Ce Atli,’ Quetzalxoitl said. ‘I’ll stay and watch over him.’
Slave heard the other woman leave. When the door was closed behind her, Quetzalxoitl moved to stand closer to him.
‘Listen to me,’ she hissed. ‘You killed my Agents, and you will pay for that.’
Slave’s eyes snapped open. The Queen was leaning low over him and speaking very quietly but with vehemence.
‘You are important now,’ she went on, ‘to keep that ridiculous woman calm, but the moment I have all I need from her, you die. No one butchers my Agents and gets away with it.’
‘What ridiculous woman?’ Slave asked softly.
‘Myrrhini, the Eye of Varuun. She thinks you are important, a bringer of peace or some such nonsense. But you and I know better, don’t we, Scaren?’
‘The shapeshifter said I was Scaren.’
‘She recognised you?’ The Queen straightened up. ‘That’s interesting.’ She gave a dismissive shake of her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. The only thing that does matter is that you understand your part in all this. You keep her quiet and out of trouble and you live. But the moment you step out of line, or she becomes difficult, you will be killed. Do you understand?’
Slave stared up at her, wondering whether she could see him through that blindfold, so he shook his head without speaking.
‘Don’t be stupid!’ She slapped him hard across the face. ‘Do your part or I will kill you myself.’
Keshik would try something here. I wonder if it will work for me. ‘You can try,’ Slave snarled. ‘But better than you have already tried to kill me and failed.’ To his surprise, the Queen jerked back as if she herself had been struck. Well, well. That is interesting.
Quetzalxoitl made an attempt to regain her composure as she backed away to the door. ‘You remember what I said, Scarred Man,’ she said. The faint tremor in her voice gave the lie to the bravado of her words.
Slave said nothing as she left. I frightened her with a threat. I am wounded, unarmed, tied to a table, and yet she fears my words. Strange.
And my life is now dependent upon Myrrhini.
‘If it wants her dead, we should keep her alive,’ Slave whispered. He had been following Myrrhini for a long time, mainly on the strength of those words, and he realised that he had never really questioned them. What did he know about Hinrik, who had uttered them? He was known to Myrrhini, but Slave did not think she liked him. They both came from the Place of the Acolytes, but what did that mean? Where had the Place been? The Duregs had destroyed it, or so he had heard. It occurred to him that most of what he had done since escaping from Sondelle was as a result of what he had heard. What did he really know?
He knew that he had released something into the world. He knew that it was hunting Myrrhini and expected him to take part in her death. If I am Scaren, and she is Mertian, that would be a reasonable expectation.
‘If it wants her dead, we should keep her alive,’ he said aloud again.
But did she need his help any more? Had she ever?
‘Who wants who dead?’ came a voice from the doorway.
Slave turned his head to see who had spoken. It was another woman, older than the other two and not as well dressed. She had short, dark hair and lively brown eyes. In her right hand she carried a large, brightly coloured bag.
‘Talking to yourself is never a good sign, you know,’ she said.
‘Never a good sign of what?’ Slave asked.
‘Sanity.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Have you spent a lot of time alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought so.’
‘Why?’
‘I am clever, and I know things.’
‘You have a sense of humour.’
�
�Doesn’t everybody?’
‘Not Keshik.’
‘Ah. You know, I have heard of him. He sounds like an absolute monster. Cold-hearted killer for money. Nothing but an assassin.’ She tutted disapprovingly as she walked close to Slave. ‘Now let’s have a look at you,’ she said, putting her bag on the table near him. ‘Do you think we need to have you tied up like this?’
Slave shook his head.
‘I don’t think so, either.’ The Ce Atli pulled a small knife out of her bag and expertly sliced Slave’s bonds. ‘What gave you these?’ she asked, pointing at the slashes across his chest.
‘Which ones?’
‘The new ones.’
‘The spurre.’
‘Dear me, she could not have been serious, then. I have seen what she can do when she’s cross.’ She started to clean the blood away. ‘Oh my word,’ she said. ‘I think luck must travel with you. How did you ever survive these other wounds?’ She leant over him to peer at the scars that crossed his chest.
‘I don’t know. I am not entirely sure I did survive.’
‘What gave them to you?’
‘I don’t really know that, either.’
The Ce Atli gave him a speculative look then went back to her work. She was very skilled, with strong, confident hands that tended Slave’s many wounds expertly. When she had finished cleaning and bandaging, she pulled several bottles out of her bag.
‘What are you doing?’
The Ce Atli turned quickly. Myrrhini, wearing a hooded cloak with the hood pulled low over her eyes, stood at the door behind her.
‘Just tending to Slave’s injuries,’ she said.
‘He’s had worse. Get out.’
When the Ce Atli did not move, Myrrhini strode into the room, grabbed the bag and threw it out through the open door.
‘I said, get out.’
‘The Queen will hear of this.’
‘If she was of any use, she would have Seen it. Now get out and don’t come back.’
Slave sat up to watch the Ce Atli leave the room. She muttered and grumbled as she left, no doubt expecting that no one could hear her words, but Slave heard every one. She was using language that even Slave knew was crude and impolite. When they were alone, he shifted his gaze to Myrrhini.
‘What was that for?’ he asked.
‘Those bottles contained a very strong soporific. Her intentions were not clear.’
‘How do you know that?’
Myrrhini threw back her hood to reveal the flames in her eyes. ‘I can See.’
‘How did this happen?’
‘The Blindfolded Queen did it to me.’ She paused. ‘There is a powerful magic around this place, an ancient magic put in place to protect the Mertians from the thing the Scarens raised, or the thing the Mertians raised themselves, I am not sure. It can give a pureblood woman the ability to dwell somehow between this world and what they call the world of what could be, the Eztli-Ichtaca. I can See both worlds at once.’
‘What can you see?’
‘Motives, designs, destinies, possible futures.’ She sighed and sat next to Slave. ‘It’s all very confusing.’
‘Is this why the Queen sent out her Agents? To find you?’
‘She had a Seeing, like I had, of the darkness rising. But her vision is getting clouded. She Saw me, travelling with the Scarred Man — you — and set out to find me. She needs me to clarify her vision.’
‘Why?’
‘The darkness will engulf the world, and only you can stop it. Her Seeing did not show her your role, only mine.’
‘And what is your role?’
‘To show you yours.’
46
Tatya’s scream made Maida push Keshik away. She watched as the shapeshifter blurred into the spurre. The dark man with the strange yellowish hair shouted a word in a language she did not know before raising his Claw to the sky. In a moment of horrified clarity, Maida recognised both the man and the weapon. She grabbed Keshik by the shoulder, forcing him around.
‘Do you see that man?’ she hissed.
‘Slave? Yes.’ Keshik shifted to keep Slave in view, watching the fight closely.
‘That is Slave?’
‘It is.’
‘That’s the man who …’ Maida could not say the rest.
‘Who killed you? Yes, it is.’ Keshik’s eyes narrowed and he drew in a sharp breath. ‘That is not good,’ he muttered. He stepped back and gripped Maida’s hand. Slave roared again in the same strange language as he brandished his Claw above his head. ‘Down,’ Keshik hissed. He pulled Maida to the ground and lay over the top of her.
‘What are you —’ Maida started but Keshik clamped his hand over her mouth.
Over his blood-spattered hand, Maida’s eyes were hard with fury.
‘Be quiet and stay still,’ Keshik whispered.
All sounds of fighting had ceased, leaving a heavy silence over the city, punctuated only by Slave’s muttered words. Keshik closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. He allowed the swords to hang loosely in limp hands as if he were dead, hoping Slave would not notice any signs of life. Sounds of approaching horses broke the unnatural silence.
Slave’s muttering rose to a guttural roar and he ran towards the approaching horsemen. Keshik froze as Slave came closer. His heart pounded, but Slave did not notice him or Maida in his fury. He leapt over the motionless bodies and ran towards the horses. Keshik raised his head to watch.
Slave met the horsemen head on. Without pausing in his charge, he slashed his Claw across the chest of the lead horse, cutting deeply. The horse reared in pain, causing its rider to lose focus on the attacker as he tried to stay in the saddle. Slave took this opportunity to open the rider’s thigh to the bone. Leaving them both disabled, he continued the momentum of his spinning attack to open the next horse’s flank. It, too, reared, squealing in agony, but its rider was less skilled and fell heavily to the ground. Slave hesitated long enough to slash across the downed rider’s throat on his way to the next horse. The time taken to bring down the first two riders, albeit barely a handful of heartbeats, was long enough for the others to draw weapons and prepare for the assault.
Keshik watched, still incredulous at Slave’s speed, as the Claw ripped and slashed, parried and deflected the blows that rained down on him from above. No matter how the men on horseback tried to outmanoeuvre the single man on foot, he was too fast. He dodged and spun away from three swords at once, counterattacking with movements that seemed to blur. Men fell, clutching hideous wounds, to die under flailing feet or more ripping slashes from the razor-sharp blades.
At one stage, Maida gasped as an Agent nearly landed a blow, only to have Slave turn aside quickly and watch the blade slice down past his chest. The Agent overbalanced slightly, which was enough for Slave to grab the man’s arm and jerk him down out of the saddle. He fell hard, straight down on his head. There was a loud, sickening crack and he lay motionless, the blood pooling out around him. Slave gave a harsh laugh and sent his Claw in a fast, low toss into the neck of the last remaining Agent. As he tumbled back onto the road, Maida gave a low grown.
‘Itxtli,’ she whispered.
Keshik clamped his hand over her mouth again, but he was too late. Slave had heard the word and turned to face them. The smile on his face was tight and ghastly to see. The blood of his attackers covered him from head to foot, dripping onto the road. He raised his left hand. The Warrior’s Claw ripped itself out of Itxtli’s neck with a wet sound and flew into Slave’s outstretched hand. As it flew towards him, Slave started to run at Keshik and Maida.
Keshik leapt to his feet, took Maida’s hand and ran without looking back. He did not bother keeping his sword drawn, he knew he could not fight this fiend, this thing, that pursued them. Their only hope was flight. Slave’s footsteps followed, slowly gaining on them. Keshik rounded a corner to come to a skidding halt. He had run into a market square that was starting to pack away for the evening. For a moment, he hesitated, wondering what to do.
Should he stand and defend these unarmed people against the coming madman? Or should he take advantage of their coming deaths and escape the city with Maida?
He took a deep breath, and ran through.
Stall holders watched them without interest. No one tried to stop them. They reached the other side of the market, completely obscured from where Slave would appear, before the sounds of murder reached their ears. Keshik pulled Maida harder and ran faster. When they reached the low wall, beyond which lay the endless plains of Midacea, Keshik simply vaulted it, Maida alongside him, and kept running.
They ran until they could run no more, then they fell to the ground into each other’s arms. For a long time, they lay together, content to feel each other’s presence, to know that after so long, their love still burned. It was finally Keshik who broke the silence.
‘I love your eyes,’ he whispered. ‘They glow like emeralds in the sunset. I love your hair, like flame in the night …’
Maida sighed and buried her face in his chest, feeling the longing, the passion, grow with every word he said. She tugged at the fastenings to her dress, then slipped it off her shoulders. Keshik kissed her on the forehead then on the lips, her chin, her throat.
Maida gave herself up to the man who loved her, who had followed her across the world to rescue her, in the same way that he gave himself utterly up to her, to the joyous task of bringing her pleasure.
They awoke as the sun rose over the plain. A wind ruffled the grass, making a sound like waves on the shore. Maida stretched and rested her head on Keshik’s chest. She loved the feel of his deep, regular breathing, the steady beat of his heart, the hard musculature, his hand as it stroked her hair.
‘I have missed you, Maida,’ he said.
‘You came for me. Myrrhini told me you would come for me, and you came for me.’
‘Of course I did. What else was I going to do?’
Scarred Man Page 37