by Gwynn White
She lay there for an hour or more, listening to the guttural cries and gasps of the Mongol as he slowly yielded to his mortal gut wound. The last thing she remembered was her own gasp for air that would not come as her heart stopped. The echo of the Mongol’s cries faded into the stones around her.
25
The Wall
August 14, 1346
When Petra awoke, she realized she lay in someone’s arms and that someone was moving. She opened her eyes to sunlight filtering through clouds of smoke and the now-smooth face of a living Cassian.
He looked down at her, his face a mixture of relief and irritation.
“Immortality becomes you, Cassian of Genoa.”
“Cassian?” he asked.
“I have renamed you as one of my own. You are now Cassian Ferro and the girl there is Nencia Dolcetta.”
The man frowned and harrumphed but didn’t respond. Rather, he stopped abruptly and called out to Nencia who followed behind them, “The lady has awakened. Bring the ale. Can you stand?” Cassian asked Petra. His eyes were now a clear, bright blue-green, his face handsome though still begrimed with a spot of blood here and there.
“I don’t know.”
Cassian released Petra’s legs and set her down more abruptly than might be customary for the woman who had just saved his life. She figured he likely would have no idea how to do such a thing, since he didn’t know what pain felt like.
Petra held to him, realizing his soiled old shirt was gone, revealing clean, smooth skin, likely hastily scrubbed in one of the city fountains.
She was curious about how immortality would treat his scarred and blackened hands, so she took hold of his wrists to examine him. The black on his fingertips was fading, but his burns and other scars had completely disappeared. So, too, were the sword wounds and the gash above his eye. He was a dead man reborn.
Petra glanced at the girl, Nencia, who seemed bewildered by her resurrection. She looked to be no more than fourteen now that her face was scrubbed of grime and the buboes swelling her neck had disappeared. In another life, another century, they would have been close in age. The girl’s fingers had also turned almost fully from the black into a healthy pink. She had a round, cherubic face, and when the girl’s dirty hair caught the filtered light of the setting sun, it had golden strands threaded through the brown.
“I see you have made a full recovery, Cassian,” she said, looking him in the eyes, purposefully gauging his reaction to his new situation.
He glared at her. “I didn’t ask for this.”
She frowned, surprised, as she took a drink of the ale. “You were in your death throes as was the girl, Immortal. There was no more time.”
“It should have been my choice.” His voice was brusque, which irritated her.
“We’ll discuss it later,” she countered. She wasn’t feeling up to a heart-to-heart about the merits of immortality, having just taken on three Mongols on her own while dying from a stab wound in the heart. “We need to find a way out of this city. Kaffa is dying. There is nothing left here for any of us.” Petra tried not to remember it meant Lucius wasn’t in Kaffa, that he could still be dead or in danger… that he could be lost to her forever.
“You command much.”
“I saved your life, Cassian. The girl’s life too. Did you truly want her to die?”
This gave him pause, and he did not answer.
“Tell me how far we are from the nearest gate.” She glanced up to the towering outer walls of Kaffa not far from the street where they stood in a dismal, blood-soaked part of town outside the citadel.
He glared at her, obviously contemplating his options.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Know this, Cassian: if I could have told you everything before you died, I would have. I would have given you a choice, but there was no time. I made the choice for you because I know you will be useful to me. Certainly, you can leave me here where I stand and go your own way, but you will lose the chance to discover who and what you have become. You will be a fledgling in a world you do not understand. You will eventually die without me, a death far worse than the Pestilence you leave behind. Is that what you wish?”
She crossed her arms over her freshly healed chest, feeling strangely vulnerable and apprehensive. She had not only changed their lives for an eternity but also her own. What would Lucius say when he discovered them? Was he even alive? Or was he in another city halfway around the world, dying in a sickbed of mortal wounds she could not cure?
She shook the thought from her mind, along with the painfully detailed image of Lucius reaching for her from a pauper’s bed.
“We will take the same road, but I make no guarantees for the future. This girl is now my ward, so she will stay with me.” He put his arm around her protectively.
“Agreed.” Petra would find a use for the girl one way or another, likely as a servant in some capacity. The idea had merit. They would finally be able to rid themselves of their human servants.
“Where is the nearest gate?” Petra asked again.
Cassian pointed straight west, where the now-sinking sun still peeked over the top of the wall at them. “Close by but it’s a sallyport.”
“A what?”
“A smaller, more hidden gate with separate wooden and steel gates.”
“Raised like a portcullis?”
“No, both are hinged, so we won’t need to open them remotely.”
“Is this sallyport well-guarded?”
“It will be guarded by several Kaffan guards. The Mongols lie in wait just beyond the wall.”
Petra noticed the sword attached to his belt as well as the pack of supplies strapped across his bare back. “Did you bring our two knives as well as your sword?”
“I stopped to pick up supplies, money, and weapons. And, yes, your dagger.” He pulled the trundle from his back and laid it in Nencia’s outstretched hands, as the streets were too dirty with corpses and rats. There Petra saw her own travel bag, several coins, her dagger, and flint and steel among other odds and ends.
Petra slipped the blade into its sheath. She was glad to have it back. The dagger had been an ancient gift from Lucius.
Petra waved Nencia over.
“Yes, Nobildonna?”
“Listen, carefully, Nencia. You, as well, Cassian. I need to tell you about your new abilities. You will wield this power clumsily at first, so use your new skills only at utmost need. Cassian, give Nencia your dagger.”
He followed her instruction without question. This boded well.
“Nencia, stay behind us. If you are approached, hide the dagger until the last moment. Then stab your attacker anywhere in the midsection.” Nencia’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “Or the side of the head,” Petra added, which made the girl’s eyes flicker with disgust momentarily.
“You are now both immortals, but even after millennia, I am still testing my limits. I have been wounded and died many times before but not in all the ways possible. You are not invincible. You will feel pain.” She glanced over at Cassian, then, realizing how foolish such a thing sounded to him.
“You…” she began. “Do you…?”
“Whatever magic you wielded against us did not change that part of me.” His expression twisted into a strange mix of anger and profound disappointment.
“Are you certain?” she asked.
“Yes.” His voice brooked no ambiguity.
“You must be on your guard, then. You have endurance beyond that of a human. You will see better, have quicker reflexes, run faster. Your body will eventually tire, though this will be many, many hours from now.”
“Nobildonna?” the girl asked, her eyes belying her shock. “Do you mean to say we are not human?”
Petra shook her head and pressed her hands to the girl’s arms. “You remain a human of sorts.”
Nencia’s eyes were a sunny mixture of yellows and light browns, and freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. She had a slight figure but had the look of a gir
l who had worked hard all her life. “But you are far superior to the human you used to be. So carry this knowledge with you, young one, as we escape this pestilent city.”
The girl put on a brave face and nodded, but clearly, she was terrified.
“How old are you?” Cassian asked Petra.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He looked like he wanted to protest, but she stopped him, touching his arm, which was warm despite the dropping temperatures. He shrugged away from her and rolled up the sleeping mats and secured her bag onto his back again.
“You will soon have an answer for every question. But not now. Not here at the gates of hell.”
Cassian nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, taking hold of Nencia’s hand as she tucked her new dagger awkwardly into her dress pocket.
“Keep your blade out, Nencia, but well hidden,” Petra warned her. “You may soon have need of it.”
Petra pulled out her own dagger and flipped it a few times in her hand, getting used to the feel of it again.
“I saw three dead Mongols in the cathedral,” Cassian said, as they passed by an old man driving a tired horse through the streets, his death cart reeking of decaying corpses. “You bested all three of them, didn’t you?”
Petra nodded.
A flicker of awe and respect crossed his face.
“Not before the third one stuck me in the heart like a pig at a feast, however,” she said, feeling unusually embarrassed at her foolish mistake.
Petra’s explanation did nothing to erase his obvious admiration.
“Where did you learn to fight?” he asked.
“That story is much too long. Just know my skill is in sword fighting and knife throwing. And I can also kill in one other way. It is called an Essentian draw. It is the drawing of life from the body. You have this ability, as well, but if you attempted to use it without practice, you would become lost in the draw yourself, which would make you vulnerable to attack.”
“How is such a thing possible?”
“I wish I could tell you. There is so much we still do not understand.”
“We?”
“There are more of us. The man I asked you about before… Lucius…he is such a one.”
“You truly are who you say you are.”
“Yes, Cassian. In time, you will see I speak the truth. How long has the Great Mortality plagued this city?” Petra asked.
“Two weeks since the first bodies came over the wall.”
“And one week since my parents died of it,” Nencia said, her voice as devoid of life as her family.
Cassian stopped them with a wave of his hand. He peered around the corner of a house near the wall. Petra saw the outline of one side of the sallyport ahead. The gate was only wide enough for two men to walk side by side. She spotted several guards standing watch at the top of the wall.
“How many on the ground?” she asked.
“Four. And four total on the wall above. How many can you take?”
“I survived three yesterday—well, almost. No more than that. But if we can approach to question the main guard, I may be able to draw him. Can you get me close?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll follow your lead,” she said. “When I begin to draw him, ready your sword.”
Cassian nodded. “Stay behind Petra, Nencia, and watch for arrows from above.”
Petra did the same, preparing herself for any eventuality.
“Guard,” Cassian called out, as they approached the sallyport. “How close is the Mongol Horde to the wall?”
“Hold there!” the haggard, blood-smeared guard shouted. “Do not advance on the wall.”
“I seek only information, sir. Do the Mongols approach? Are they readying siege machines once again?”
“Why do you approach with travel gear?” the guard asked, wariness tinging his words with suspicion. He was young, to be sure, but he looked to be well-muscled and well-armed, with both a sword and bow.
“We are heading to another part of the city. We heard the Pestilence has not touched the far east side.”
“Go back the way you came, you fools. You cannot escape the Great Mortality.”
“I know the sallyport is barred from the Mongols. I wish only to know if the Mongols advance upon us again. We have business on this side of the city before we head to the eastern gate. I wanted to know how safe it will be if we linger here for a time.”
“The Mongols have many more of their pestilent dead to throw over our city walls. I do hear rumors that some have begun to retreat now the disease has decimated their numbers.”
“Do you think the siege will be over soon, then?” Cassian asked, his body language relaxing, as if he were having a chat with a friend.
“Yes, a couple weeks, at most. If we aren’t all dead by then.”
Cassian glanced at Petra, his gaze questioning her on whether they should wait. She shook her head slightly, and he nodded.
With every exchange, the three of them stepped closer to the guard and the sallyport, careful to ensure none of the guards eyeing them circled to flank them.
Petra did not want to kill Genoese soldiers. It would be too easy for word to get back to Genoa about them. About her. But she glanced around and realized the streets were deserted. No citizen of Kaffa would be foolish enough to wait below the walls for ballista or corpses to rain down on them. No one but the guards and the three of them.
“Signore, if I may ask…” Petra said, walking up to face the guard, her smile disarming him as she raised her hand to his heart. Petra’s sudden Essentian draw was so violent she knocked him off his feet. His terror forced his mouth into a silent scream. Cassian simultaneously drew his sword on the second guard, who began to rush him.
One of the Kaffan guards above shouted in a language she did not understand. She listened to all of them nocking their arrows while she poured all her energy into the Essentian draw. She rejected the man’s fear, his ecstasy, and even his strength. She cared only for the fast kill. And it was over within a minute’s time. The third guard had nearly made it to her when she spun away from his hard sword thrust. In her spin, she caught sight of Nencia, who had hidden within the shadow of the wall as arrows rained down on them from the guards above.
“Mongols advancing!” one of them screamed. “They are grappling the walls.”
The second guard foolishly glanced up when he heard the battle cry, and it was then that Cassian sliced through the man’s abdomen. He finished him off with a gash to the throat. Petra looked away before she saw his life’s blood spill onto the stones.
The third guard began to recover, even as the fourth guard approached Petra from the rear. She spun the dagger at the guard in front of her, stabbing him directly in the heart.
Petra ducked when she anticipated the fourth guard’s sword slicing through the air. Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she reached up to the man’s face, forcing him up against the wall with another fierce draw. This time, she was a little bit weaker, but this man was far stronger. She drew from his strength to kill him faster. Eventually, Cassian thrust his sword into the man’s side, quickening his death. When he died, he was near to ecstasy, as was she. They both fell: the guard to his knees, into a puddle of his fellow guard’s blood, and Petra into the strong arms of Cassian as arrows rained down around them.
Cassian quickly dragged Petra into the darkened portal of the sallyport. A small, dank tunnel reeking of excrement and death led to the wooden gate Cassian had told her about. He pressed her against the wall, ensured Nencia remained right behind them, and made quick work of the wooden gate, nearly ripping it off its hinges with his newfound strength.
“Godfather!” Nencia screamed. “The Mongols.” She pointed through the grids of the steel gate, and they all took in the sight of a small mob of Mongols running toward them, some with bows drawn and firing on the guards on the wall above them.
“Petra, can you fight?” Cassian asked her.
He studi
ed her face as she bent over attempting to recover her strength. She felt like she had been running for hours.
“A few moments more.”
“I have no bow to drive them back. We will have to use our blades. Nencia, stay back as far as you can. Guard our flank and stab anyone who comes through the sallyport behind us.”
“Yes, Godfather.”
The girl was holding her own despite her fear. Petra was impressed. She glanced through the gridded gate again and frowned. Something seemed wrong about these Mongols, but the sun had set and the dusk had deepened. Perhaps the lack of light was playing tricks on her.
Petra rose to her feet and steadied herself. Taking up her dagger, she nodded to Cassian who worked the lock of the steel gate.
“It’s stuck,” he said, yanking it hard.
“Let me see.” She noticed the lock had rusted shut, but she gave it a hard pull anyway. It gave way, but not enough.
“Petra, look out!” Cassian called.
She didn’t hesitate but took up her dagger and stabbed at the first Mongol who had made it up to the gate. The man’s cry of pain made Petra’s heart stop. She would know that voice anywhere. When she looked up into his face, she knew who she would see: Lucius staring back at her from beneath the disguise of a Mongol warrior.
26
The Flight
August 14, 1346
Lucius,” Petra breathed, though the shouts and cries around them drowned her out.