Sable frowned. He was an excellent liar, and then she wondered if this should concern her.
Wood scraped against wood, the hatch opened, and dim light shone down, partially blocked by Gavet’s silhouette.
Sable ducked deeper into the shadows of the cellar.
“Where is—” Gavet started.
Jos grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head against Gavet’s. Gavet’s head lolled to the side, and Jos shoved his limp body out of the way. Shouts sounded above, boots thudded and metal scraped, but Jos had already pressed his hands on either side of the opening and hoisted himself through, kicking in the knees of a guard on his way out.
By the wards, he moved fast.
Above, men grunted and bodies crashed. Sable scrambled up the ladder and peered through the opening just as a guard swung a chair. She ducked, chair legs whirred over her head, and she scrambled onto the floor and made a dash for the guard’s legs. He yelped in surprise, then kicked at her. She jerked Jos’s dagger from her belt and stabbed it through the guard’s boot. He screamed and whirled the chair around, but Sable jerked the dagger free and rolled away.
Right into Jos’s boots.
He glared down at her, eyes ablaze.
She shoved off of him and threw herself onto another guard’s back. The guard whirled, trying to throw her off, but she wrapped her limbs around his neck and squeezed. He choked, grabbing at her arms, but she held on like a desert snake, constricting. He rammed her into a wall, slamming her back into plaster. She winced. A picture fell and crashed to the floor, but she didn’t let go. Finally, the man gasped and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Sable climbed off of him just as someone came at her with a sword.
Jos interceded with his sword and the entire weight of his body. The guard cried out, barely able to fend off the force that was Jos. He was incredible to watch, really. Like the eye of a storm, beautiful and untouched, spinning the world around him into chaos and destruction.
Another guard bolted through that destruction, making an escape for the door, but Jos threw one of his blades and caught the guard between the shoulders. The guard jerked and fell on his face, while Jos returned to fight the first guard. He didn’t see the guard coming up behind him.
Sable jumped to her feet, snatched the Beléna statue from Gavet’s mantel, and slammed it over the guard’s head. He grunted and toppled to the floor. Sable didn’t know if he was dead.
Jos glanced back, and his gaze found hers, furious.
Still looking only at her, he jerked his dagger from the chest of the guard he’d been fighting. That guard slumped to the floor behind him, forgotten.
“Godsdamnit, Sable!”
Sable set the statue back on the mantle. It looked strangely out of place, like a tree left standing after the rest of the forest had burnt to the ground.
Jos took a furious step toward her, his face tinged red from exertion and anger. “I told you to wait.”
“And…?”
His jaw clenched. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Are you?” she challenged.
His lips pressed in a line, trapping words behind them.
Sable tossed his bloodied dagger at him. He plucked it from the air without taking his eyes off of her. She turned away from him in search of Gavet and spotted him coughing on his breath, propping himself on his forearms. She made her way for him.
“Sable…” Jos warned behind her.
Sable ignored him and shoved her boot between Gavet’s shoulder blades, pinning him to the floor. Gavet grunted, straining to breathe, arms splayed. “Sable…” he started.
“You spineless piece of scat,” Sable growled. She gave him a good hard shove, then pulled her boot away.
“I had no choice…” He struggled to push himself upon all fours. “They knew you were here, and if I didn’t…”
She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his knees. “When will he be here?” she demanded.
“I don’t—”
She jerked him harder. “Don’t lie to me, Gavet.”
His expression strained; his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes flickered to Jos, then settled back on Sable. “I… sent a pigeon as soon as you arrived. He was in White Rock.”
Which meant Ventus would be here any moment.
Sable was so angry, her fists trembled. “After everything I’ve done for you… you would betray me like this.”
“I didn’t have a choice!” Gavet said through his pain. “You know the power he holds. He would’ve destroyed my business—”
Sable let go of his collar and punched him square in the face. He cried out and toppled back against the wall.
“Curse you and your business, you rutting coward.” She spat at him, and he flinched. “Shame on me for thinking I could ever compete with your pocketbook.”
“Sable… please…”
Sable plucked the dagger off his belt and shoved it through hers. “I won’t forget this, Gavet.”
She left him there and maneuvered over bodies, around broken chairs, and past Jos. She strode down the hallway, opened the back door, and stepped out into the bitter night. There, in the darkness of Gavet’s back porch, she stopped. The night was too quiet, and an unnatural mist had fallen over everything.
Ventus was here.
She sensed Jos behind her, but she didn’t look back. “He’s already here,” she whispered.
A beat. “You’re certain?”
“Yes.” Sable stared absently ahead, watching her breath depart in a cloud. “You should go. It’s me he really wants, and you can bet your merciless gods he’ll have more than two Silent with him this time. Go. Find your friend. Get out of here while there’s time.”
Jos grabbed her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His eyes glittered in the night. “This isn’t just your fight anymore, Sable. He killed one of mine.”
“You won’t win this fight, Jos,” she snapped. “If it’s revenge you want, then live.”
He studied her; his expression warred.
“Go,” she urged, shoving him away from her.
There you are, little sulaziér.
23
Ventus’s guards filed into the alley. Two knelt behind barrels, crossbows aimed, and the rest fanned out, blocking their exit. Gavet’s back door creaked open, and four more guards appeared in the doorframe. One carried a torch. Sable blinked away the sudden brightness, then noticed one of the four held a crossbow aimed at Jos.
They were trapped.
She glanced back down the alley as a shadow melted from the darkness. A Silent. And another, until Sable counted four of them. Four.
Ventus appeared behind his Silent, his robed silhouette a stain upon the night.
Beside her, Jos stood impossibly still, sword already drawn.
Come with me willingly, sulaziér, and his death will be quick.
“It’s me you want,” she growled, and she stepped into the alley, arms out. “Let him go.”
He killed one of my Silent.
“And you Changed his man. I’d say you’re even now.”
Jos’s face angled toward her, his body tense. He could only hear one side of the conversation, and he didn’t like it.
Ah. You figured it out. I knew you were special. I wonder if your Provincial knows just how special you are. Perhaps we should give him a little display? Break the walls around your power and show him what you truly are?
Sable was wondering what power he was referring to when her temples wrenched. The pain was a punch to her skull. She gasped, her knees gave, and she fell upon all fours. Ventus squeezed harder. Her lungs clamped down, her breath strained, and something deep inside of her tingled. It was the same sensation she’d felt all those years ago when she’d played her flute.
But she was not holding her flute.
Heat pushed against her ribs. There, the pressure began building and building, like a kettle about to boil over.
Ventus squeezed even harder.
>
Something inside of her gave, like fissures cracking through glass. Expanding. The warmth pushed more intensely now, against the fractures, and Sable fisted her hands, squeezing her abs, physically trying to hold herself together. But the pressure surged and the fissures spread, breaking her apart, and Sable yelled through clenched teeth.
“Enough,” Jos’s command cut through the agony.
The pressure relented; the glass, miraculously, held. The warmth receded, simmering deep, and Sable had no idea what Ventus had just done to her.
She glanced up. Three of the guards at Gavet’s back door had dropped. The fourth stood stone still, torch raised as Jos held his sword to the guard’s throat. In Jos’s other hand was a crossbow, which he’d aimed straight at Ventus.
In the ambient light, Ventus smiled.
Suddenly, Jos gasped and dropped to his knees. The crossbow clattered to the ground, and his sword scraped against the cobblestones. Jos heaved for breath, forcing himself to his feet, but his knees gave out and he collapsed again.
A strong hand gripped Sable by the hair, and she yelped as the guard who’d just been Jos’s prisoner yanked her back. Jos yelled through his teeth, hands fisted upon the cobblestones, and his body convulsed, over and over again, each time more violent than the one before.
Ventus was going to kill him.
Sable bucked hard, smashing her head against her captor’s nose. The guard cried out and staggered back, stumbling off of Gavet’s porch. Sable snatched the torch from the ground and pulled a candle from her boot—don sar, they called it in Istraa. Night star. She’d known what it was the moment she’d spotted it in Gavet’s cellar. Ricón used to collect them before he’d learned to make them himself. The explosions were always so colorful.
She touched fuse to torch, and the fuse sparked.
“Here’s a display, you rutting monster,” Sable snarled, then pointed the candle at the barrels of ale that Ventus’s Silent and guards stood behind.
Ventus growled and squeezed her skull tight, but he was too late. The don sar shot from Sable’s hands, and Sable dove at Jos. Like a comet, the don sar blazed through the alley, straight at the barrels. Sparks flew, spewing stars.
The guards didn’t register what was happening until the explosive hit.
Sable landed on top of Jos as a great boom! shook the night.
Light. Heat. Smoke.
Sable’s ears rang, and she staggered to her feet, pulling Jos with her. “Hurry!” she yelled at Jos, then coughed.
Jos swayed a little, gazing at the flames in disbelief.
“Come on!” She pulled him back through Gavet’s house, and the two of them sprinted through the mess they’d left, pushing their way to Gavet’s front door and out onto a dark and empty street.
Shouts echoed behind them, and the night seemed a little brighter.
“This way!” she hissed.
She bolted down the street, making sure Jos followed, then turned down another alley.
“The five hells did you get that?” he asked as they ran.
“Gavet’s.” Sable made a sharp right, down another alley.
“I take it back. You do have it in you.”
Sable would’ve laughed if she weren’t breathing so hard.
“The stable’s that way.” Jos pointed. In contrast to her, he was barely winded.
“Heading there. Back way.”
They rounded a corner and ran right into a handful of village guards. One opened his mouth to speak, but Jos silenced him with an elbow. The man staggered back, and Jos punched through two more. A fourth moved in with his sword, but Jos knocked it out of his hands and caught it with his other.
The man’s lips parted. “The hell are you?”
Jos flashed his teeth, whirled, and stabbed the man through with his own sword.
Not for the first time, Sable was glad she wasn’t on the other side of that blade.
They sprinted on. Faces peered through windows, trying to see the cause of the commotion. Some opened doors, looked out, and promptly closed them again.
“This way!” a voice yelled somewhere behind them.
Sable shoved Jos down a narrow alley. She could just see the stables through the slim crack between walls. They reached the end, waited a breath, checked the street, then bolted for the stables and pushed through the doors.
A groomsman stumbled toward them, delirious with sleep. “What are you—”
Jos shoved him into a pile of hay. “Third one on the left,” he said to Sable.
Sable found the horse happily sucking water from his trough.
“No time to saddle,” Jos said, but Sable was already jumping on the horse’s bare back. He climbed on behind her, gave the horse a swift kick, and they exploded out of the stable.
Guards flooded into the street.
Jos charged through them with a yell, whirling his sword while Sable kicked at hands and faces, knocking them back whenever she could. They galloped down the road much too fast, heading for a gate that was closed.
Behind them, the sound of galloping horses erupted. Jos cursed, urging their horse faster. Through the din, a soft click snagged Sable’s attention—a whisper, a warning—and she ducked, pulling Jos with her just as bolt whizzed passed. It struck stone instead, ricocheting into the night.
“We need to open the gate,” Jos growled.
“Hold them off, and I can—”
Half a dozen village guards rushed out from the shadows, spreading in front of the gate to block their exit.
Jos cursed.
A furious yell rose about the rest, and a behemoth of a man flew out of nowhere, barreling through the guards like an avalanche. Men cried out and dropped to the ground. The man whirled around, and Sable glimpsed ruddy hair. It was the man who’d been with Jos during her failed rescue attempt, Braddok.
Jos jerked their horse to a halt and leapt from the saddle, “Godsdamnit, Brad! Where have you been?” he yelled as he charged fearlessly into the melee.
“Waiting for your pretty arse, as usual!” Braddok yelled back, slamming his forehead into a guard. The guard’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed, crossbow sliding out of his hands.
Sable jumped off the horse, scrambled forward, and snatched the crossbow from the ground just as a dark figure landed in a crouch before her. It hissed through a mouth of black teeth and inked skin, and Sable took an involuntary step back.
Two more Silent appeared near the gate. And the fourth landed before Jos.
The Silent encircled them, corralling them and pressing closer. The few remaining guards hurried out of the way to watch the certain bloodbath. Braddok wiped a hand across his sweaty brow and spat bloodied saliva on the ground. “Godsdamnit. I’m really sick of these things.”
The Silent standing before Jos hissed, then closed in. Jos blocked fast, stopping the Silent before it could slice open his throat. The Silent stepped back, and the two circled each other. Predator to predator.
The guards watched. Even Sable held her breath.
And then Jos took the offensive. He attacked in a storm of strikes, pressing the Silent back, farther and farther. Guards jumped out of the way. Jos grabbed one and used him as a shield. The Silent didn’t slow, didn’t stop or care. The Silent stabbed, nightglass pierced armor, and Jos’s human shield sagged, dead. Jos shoved him aside.
A second Silent joined in.
Braddok charged into the third, knocking it to the ground, but the Silent near Sable leapt into the air with supernatural strength and landed on top of Braddok, nightglass in hand.
Sable raised the crossbow. She’d never shot one before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. She aimed, waited for a clean shot, then fired. String snapped, air whirred, and the bolt landed in the Silent’s shoulder.
It wailed and whirled on her, then came at her in a rush. She ripped another bolt from the bow, set it, and fired again. It struck the Silent’s thigh, but it did not slow.
Metal flashed.
The Silent co
llapsed with forward momentum, but its head dropped to the ground and rolled a few paces away. Jos stood behind it, sword dripping crimson.
And Ventus roared with fury.
A shock of pain punched through Sable, and she collapsed. In her periphery, Jos and Braddok dropped too. Ventus held all three of them captive with his power.
He whirled into a shapeless form of night and shadow, and reappeared before her. Sharp nails dug into her chin, and he dragged her to her feet. His black eyes bored into hers, and he smelled of blood and steel and ice. You will pay for this.
Sable reached for Gavet’s dagger, which was still in her belt, but an invisible force jerked it free and sent it soaring. It clattered onto the cobblestones, well out of reach. Ventus grabbed her wrist and whipped her around to face Jos and Braddok, who both heaved on all fours, features twisted in agony.
One Silent approached Jos. It grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his knees. Jos yelled through his teeth, the veins in his temple bulging. He couldn’t fight back—not with Ventus’s power holding him captive. The Silent pressed a nightglass blade to Jos’s neck. Behind them, Braddok lay in debilitating prostration.
“Let them go!” Sable yelled. “I’ll go with you… I won’t fight, I swear!”
I will make clothing from his skin, and you will wear it. You will always remember what happens to those who oppose me.
The Silent began to carve. Slowly. A bloom of bright red stained Jos’s neck.
Right behind Jos, there was a sudden twist of wool, followed by a soft crack. The Silent that’d been carving Jos’s neck crumpled in a heap of robes, its head bent at an impossible angle by the hands of the newcomer now standing behind it.
Jos fell forward and caught himself on the cobblestones with a gasp. The intruder looked up. Golden light flickered across a face made cruel by thick scars.
“Hello, Ventus.”
It was Tallyn.
24
It took Sable a moment to recognize Tallyn, for the man standing before them was not the Tallyn who had saved her life. Fury made his hideous face cruel, inhuman, and there was nothing kind in his gaze now, nothing warm—only hatred. A strange mist clung to his robes, obscuring his lines. It seeped out of him, making him look almost ethereal—a spirit of the night, materialized. Even the lanterns dimmed and quivered, their flames cowering in Tallyn’s presence, which was far more robust than Sable had known it to be, as if he’d never quite expanded himself before her. His power unfolded his frailty, filled in the cracks and hollows, and transformed this broken man into something magnificent and terrible—like Death, finally come to take what was owed him.
The Gods of Men Page 21