Nightfall

by Den Patrick

  ‘Perhaps I should get some rest,’ said Kjellrunn after she’d taken a moment to regain her breath. Trine and Drakina helped her onto the bed as Romola ushered everyone out of the room, even Trine.

  ‘I’m the handmaiden of the Stormtide Prophet,’ whispered Trine once everyone else had left, anger plain to see on her narrow face.

  ‘You’re a sixteen-year-old girl playing dressing up in priestesses’ robes,’ said Romola quietly. ‘And Kjellrunn needs some rest.’

  ‘I’m staying.’

  Romola looked to Kjellrunn, who was too tired to argue or even sit up. She made a placating gesture with one hand.

  ‘You are a pain in my arse,’ said Romola, before striding out of the chamber. Trine slammed the door as the captain left and her jet-black hair fell to one side. A jagged selection of lines decorated the side of her throat like broken veins turned black. Kjellrunn’s expression must have given her away as Trine pressed one hand to her throat to cover her affliction.

  ‘Seems you have bigger problems than Romola,’ said Kjellrunn.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Trine. ‘It’s common for the students of Academy Plamya to have black marks on their skin.’ She rearranged her hair to cover the marks.

  ‘It’s spreading, isn’t it?’ added Kjellrunn, her voice full of sadness and concern.

  ‘I did what needed to be done,’ said Trine; the usual fire and defiance of her tone and manner was subdued. ‘The Empire took everything from me. Now it’s my turn to get even.’

  ‘Even if it costs you everything?’ asked Kjellrunn.

  Trine stared back, dark eyes full of pain, but had no answer for the Stormtide Prophet.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Steiner

  Steiner’s band of rebels were not the only people rising up against the Emperor at that time. Every province was fighting against a rising tide of disorder. Small acts of sabotage, assassinations, and fighting in the streets were becoming commonplace, but the fiercest fighting was always going to be at Khlystburg. How could it be otherwise?

  – From the memoir of Drakina Tveit, Lead Librarian of Midtenjord Province

  ‘You took my father!’ bellowed Steiner in the cold night air. Six Semyonovsky guards marched from the tower, imposing in their black enamelled armour, spear tips glittering cruelly. The Imperial Courtyard, so silent just moments before, was now full of fire and shouting. The sound of stone crunching into stone made everyone flinch; Felgenhauer was flinging statues as if they were merely toys. Someone cried out in pain and the tinkle of broken glass followed. Steel chimed on steel as loyalist met rebel, and oaths and curses were spoken in anger or desperation.

  ‘Press on! Press on! shouted Tomasz, exhorting Felgenhauer’s cadre to reach the tower where the Emperor slept.

  ‘You took my father from me!’ shouted Steiner again, working himself up into a rage. The first of the black-armoured Semyonovsky guards thrust his spear, a light jab testing Steiner’s defences. He grabbed the spear shaft and forced it aside, then closed ground and smashed the guard’s faceplate with a backhanded swipe from the sledgehammer. The guard stumbled in shock and Steiner delivered a staggering overhead smash that broke the man’s collarbone.

  Kristofine deflected a spear thrust meant for Steiner, knocking the metal point high and wide from the flat of her sword. She followed Steiner’s lead and stepped in close, smashing the crosspiece of her sword into the face of the new attacker. The Semyonovsky guard stumbled back and Kristofine swiped at the man, but her blade rebounded from the plate armour, almost slashing her face. Reka hacked at the back of the guard’s knees and he hit the ground screaming.

  ‘You all right?’ Kristofine took a deep yet shaky breath and nodded. ‘You’re doing fine, just aim for the weaker points in the armour.’

  ‘We have to reach the office below the bed-chamber,’ said Felgenhauer from behind them. She was out of breath and her temples ran with sweat. ‘We have to recover the Ashen Blade. Without that we are lost.’

  Felgenhauer’s cadre defeated the last of the Semyonovsky Guard and Steiner raced into the tower, heading for the stairs just as a Vigilant wearing a golden wolf mask descended.

  Steiner paused. ‘Marozvolk?’

  A second later he was flung backwards by the force of the arcane, out of the door, sailing through the air until he smashed into his comrades.

  ‘Not Marozvolk,’ he grunted as he caught his breath. Felgenhauer extended both her hands towards the golden-masked Vigilant, matching their mastery of the earth school with her own. The air shimmered with force as both tried to crush the other with the arcane. The base of the tower began to shake and shouts sounded in the courtyard behind them. More Semyonovsky guards were tramping across the flowerbeds and burning hedges towards them.

  ‘We’re trapped,’ said Kristofine in a panicked whisper.

  Felgenhauer tensed and made a shoving gesture with clawed hands. The golden-masked Vigilant was flung back up the staircase of the tower.

  ‘Inside! yelled Steiner’s aunt as the first of the Semyonovsky Guard reached them. Steiner turned to follow when a pale man dressed in black descended the staircase. He had a high forehead and a shrewd look about him that Steiner didn’t much care for. His right hand bore a short knife with a dull blade that flaked with ashes as the man moved.

  ‘Volkan Karlov,’ said Steiner. His father’s captor, ruler of the Solmindre Empire, founder of the Holy Synod.

  ‘So good of you to deliver the Vartiainen boy to me, Felgenhauer.’

  Steiner’s aunt slammed a hand forward but the Emperor stepped to the side and made a small gesture. To his left a portion of the wall shook, dust drifted from the ceiling and picture rattled itself off the wall to smash on the floor.

  ‘You’re making a mess, Felgenhauer,’ chided Volkan Karlov in a whispery voice. ‘So unlike you.’ There was something about his eyes, black and empty of anything besides a cruel amusement.

  ‘Run, Steiner,’ said Felgenhauer. ‘Go!’

  Steiner stared at what must surely be the Ashen Blade, clutched in the Emperor’s fist. Bittervinge himself had warned them they could not defeat the Emperor without the weapon. He gritted his teeth and stepped forward.

  ‘We fight!’ he bellowed and swung with all of his rage. The Emperor, so self-assured, so confident, flinched backwards, barely deflecting Steiner’s sledgehammer. The enchanted weapon met the hastily prepared force of the Emperor’s arcane power. There was a flash of yellow light and a ringing sound that all but deafened Steiner. His sledgehammer careered from the Emperor’s arcane shield and smashed into the wall, sending shards of stone in all directions.

  ‘The blood runs strong,’ said the Emperor. Steiner drew his sledgehammer back for another strike but Volkan Karlov batted him aside with a curt, dismissive gesture. Steiner was flung against the wall so hard he was sure a tooth must have come loose. His mouth was full of the taste of blood and chagrin. Kristofine entered the tower and lunged forward as Felgenhauer compelled a flagstone to leap up and spin towards the Emperor. The granite tile shot past Volkan Karlov’s head and cracked loudly as it hit the wall behind him, exploding into heavy shards.

  ‘Kristofine!’ shouted Steiner as she slashed at the Emperor. She opened a deep cut across his shoulder before he retaliated, jerking the Ashen Blade towards her stomach. She averted the knife deftly, meeting the enchanted blade with the force of her sword and almost knocking it from his grip. But the Emperor had other weapons at his disposal. With a shimmer of arcane power, he transmuted his free hand into a fist of living stone and backhanded Kristofine across the side of her skull. Steiner was surging in to help her, but a moment too late to stop the blow connecting. He saw her eyes blink and when they reopened there was a dullness to them, her gaze unfocused.

  ‘Damn you!’ hissed Steiner, swinging the sledgehammer once more, but suddenly the weapon was intensely heavy, and he was barely able to lift it from the floor, where it scraped on the flagstones.

  ‘We are leaving!’ shoute
d Felgenhauer, taking Kristofine by the hand. ‘Now!’

  Volkan Karlov stepped forward with mocking smile on his pale face. ‘I was expecting more, Steiner.’ He held the Ashen Blade before him, low and ready, his other hand gesturing to the sledgehammer, making it heavier than it had any right to be.

  Felgenhauer reached up with both hands and then thrust them downward, her face contorted in pain and effort. The ceiling collapsed, burying the Emperor. Steiner dodged backwards, narrowly avoiding the same fate.

  ‘Now, Steiner! Move!’ yelled Felgenhauer. ‘We can’t beat him.’

  They raced back into the courtyard as the Emperor emerged from the rubble, a terrible frown on his pale face. It was difficult to tell in the confusion: had he turned himself to rock to weather the collapse, or was he merely covered in stone dust? Kristofine stumbled alongside Reka, holding her head, struggling to fight off the concussion. More and more Semyonovsky guards flooded into the courtyard. A few Vigilants cast arcs of arcane fire, but there were too many of their own soldiers in the way for them to be effective.

  ‘We’re cut off,’ said Steiner, swinging his hammer at the closest guard. A spear point snagged in his tunic, failing to draw blood but ripping his clothes. They hadn’t moved fast enough or struck hard enough and now their own lives as well as Marek’s would be forfeit.

  ‘Form up on me!’ shouted Steiner, desperate to enforce some order in the chaos. Felgenhauer’s cadre began to move as a dark shadow flickered above the Imperial Court. Two of the Semyonovsky were wrenched into the air. Steiner gasped as the stars were occluded by vast winged shapes. The snatched soldiers cried out as the dragon soared higher, then released them. Another dragon swooped in, blue in colour. The great creature grabbed one soldier up in its mouth. Talons flexed and swiped, sending soldiers sprawling. Two fell to the ground missing limbs, their lives torn from them in a blink. The carnage was brutal and sudden, but Steiner was sure he saw Taiga riding atop the creature.

  The Semyonovsky Guard retreated back to the safety of the buildings surrounding the courtyard, but the Emperor was not so easily cowed. Steiner hurried away, snatching glances over his shoulder as a dark grey dragon swooped towards Volkan Karlov.

  ‘Tief?’ shouted Steiner, hardly believing what he knew to be true.

  The Emperor made claws of his hands and wrenched his arms upward. A half-dozen statues floated into the air at his command, before speeding towards their target. The dragon was pelted with hunks of broken stone and turned away, swooping over the rooftop of the Imperial Court to avoid further punishment.

  Kristofine grabbed Steiner’s hand. ‘Come on. We can’t stand around watching. We have to leave.’

  ‘But the dragons are here. Taiga, Tief, and Kimi are here.’

  No sooner had he said the words than the Emperor leapt into the air and released a great gout of fire from his mouth, catching the blue dragon along one side and almost burning Taiga. Vigilants appeared on the rooftops and cast javelins of arcane flame. The searing arcane lights sped towards the dragons, who avoided them for the most part, but the dark brown dragon took a hit, and bright fire exploded across its scales.

  ‘It’s not enough,’ said Felgenhauer, looking aghast. ‘He’s too powerful and has too many Vigilants. We have to go.’

  The three dragons had evidently decided the same thing. They departed as suddenly as they had arrived, vast wings beating the night air, carrying them to safety.

  With hindsight, leaving through the tavern they had entered was a mistake. It had never been part of the plan, but plans so rarely survive contact with the enemy, as Reka said later.

  Tomasz led the way. He’d stolen a Semyonovsky shield during the fighting and barged through the remnants of the sliding wooden door. Felgenhauer and her remaining cadre stomped into the tavern, casting murderous looks at the few messengers who’d remained there after the initial breach. Steiner, Kristofine, and Reka brought up the rear, pulses pounding with the shock and panic of retreat.

  ‘You filthy scum, you’ve finished me!’ The tavern owner lunged over the bar and grabbed Kristofine’s arm.

  Steiner’s heart stuttered as a glint of steel flashed in the gloom.

  ‘Think you’re clever for snooping around earlier, do you?’ said the tavern owner, his voice seething with bitterness. ‘I’ll be killed for this.’

  Kristofine raised her weapon, but the blade caught on the bar, and the dazed look in her eye told Steiner she was ill-prepared to defend herself. Reka was already reaching across the bar to free Kristofine’s trapped arm as the tavern owner pulled back the knife. Steiner vaulted the counter top, sending half-full tankards clattering to the ground. Kristofine jerked back, but the larger man held her fast and thrust the blade forward just as Reka unleashed a solid punch that connected with the tavern owner’s temple. The man spun to face Steiner, who smashed an elbow into his face, stunning him. Steiner’s eyes fell on Kristofine as she rolled off the bar clutching her side. The hilt of the knife protruded from the folds of her clothes.

  ‘Kristofine!’

  ‘Frøya save me,’ she muttered as her face paled. Felgenhauer was at her side in a heartbeat, holding her up.

  ‘No more than she deserves,’ slurred the tavern keeper. Steiner jabbed forward with the head of the sledgehammer, breaking the tavern owner’s nose. The man fell to his knees with a pleading look in his eyes but Steiner kept hitting him until Reka laid a hand on his shoulder and yanked him backwards.

  ‘He’s dead! We have to go!’

  Steiner looked up from his grisly work in a daze. Kristofine was hunched over, both hands forming a halo of delicate fingers about the knife hilt, afraid to touch it. Felgenhauer had an arm around her shoulders, her face full of concern.

  ‘I thought you said the tavern keeper liked me,’ said Kristofine, forcing a smile before she passed out.

  Their flight through the city was fraught. They clung to every shadow and darkened back alley. Steiner couldn’t help but think of a similar night in Vostochnyye Lisy. Felgenhauer’s cadre cast concerned looks at Kristofine; their eyes went from the wounded peasant girl to the former Matriarch-Commissar. Steiner waited for the moment his aunt declared she had warned against this very thing, but the rebuke never came.

  ‘She’ll be fine,’ said Felgenhauer, not meeting his eye. Steiner knew she was trying to be reassuring, but he didn’t much believe her.

  Only once did they happen upon an Imperial soldier, who had slipped away from his squad to relieve himself in a back alley. The man, seeing he was outnumbered and most certainly doomed, opened his mouth to call for his comrades; then his eyes widened in shock and he clutched at his throat. Felgenhauer stood a dozen feet from the man, immobile and full of terrible purpose. Grey veins grew across the soldier’s face, petrifying his lips, his neck, his throat.

  ‘Ggghkk!’

  Tomasz had the sense to catch the man before he fell. A soldier in plate armour hitting cobblestones would attract just as much attention as a cry for help.

  ‘What now?’ whispered Steiner; Kristofine was a dead weight on his shoulder, even with help from Reka.

  ‘We wait for the squad to move on,’ replied Felgenhauer.

  ‘Assuming they don’t come looking for their friend,’ muttered Tomasz, looking over his shoulder to check they hadn’t been discovered.

  ‘We don’t have much time,’ said Steiner. ‘Kristofine is bleeding.’

  Felgenhauer gave him a hard look and then continued on her way. Her cadre fell in behind her and Steiner and Reka did their best to keep up.

  The inn that Felgenhauer had claimed as her barracks bore a geometric snowflake design on a teal background. To the locals it was simply ‘the Novgoruske’. Lanterns shone at every window and gave the impression the inn was open, despite the lateness of the hour. The innkeeper had been waiting for them and held the door as they returned. His serious look darkened as Reka and Steiner dragged Kristofine over the threshold.

  ‘I can’t help you get rid of bodies
,’ said the innkeeper with a sullen look.

  ‘She’s not dead,’ snarled Steiner.

  ‘Not yet, but come the morning.’

  ‘Bring me boiled water and vodka,’ said Reka. ‘I’ll want a needle and thread also. And be quick about it.’

  ‘You’re him, aren’t you?’ replied the innkeeper. ‘You’re the dragon rider. You two are the Lovers.’

  Steiner glared at the man. ‘Just get the things my friend asked for.’

  ‘Of course,’ replied the innkeeper. ‘But you should know there’s a man here to see you. Some sort of noble, judging by the clothes.

  It was just before dawn before Steiner emerged from his bedroom with Reka.

  ‘And she’ll live?’ whispered Steiner, almost too afraid to ask.

  ‘Now would be a good time to pray to those goddesses you’re so intent on bringing back.’ Reka headed to bed, shoulders curved in exhaustion, head drooping. Steiner envied the man his rest but there was still the matter of the unexpected guest to attend to. He headed downstairs still covered in the gore of Imperial soldiers. His fingernails were outlined in Kristofine’s blood and he grasped the sledgehammer as if it was the only thing keeping him standing.

  A dark-haired man wearing dark grey peasant attire waited for him at the base of the stairs, shifting from foot to foot with impatience.

  ‘You’re the dragon rider? Steiner the Unbroken?’

  Steiner didn’t feel very unbroken right then, with his love sewn back together and curled in a ball of pain and vodka in his bed. He nodded and frowned, trying not to show his worry for Kristofine.

  ‘This way. I’m Ruslan.’

  Steiner followed him to the back of the inn, where an older man stood up. Long of limb, with a chest like an ox, the clothes declared him a noble to anyone with the sense to see. His drooping moustaches were well kept and his eyes were dark shadows in the deep lines of his face. Steiner felt like a half-mad vagrant in comparison, which was at least half true, he supposed.