Swords and Scoundrels

by Julia Knight

  Bear laughed in his ear. “Reyens in Ikaras, with all the trouble lately? What else would you be? I have to say the king was very upset with that business between you and Licio. He stood to make a great deal of money, and our king does not like losing that kind of opportunity. I’m sure he’d be most pleased to meet you, even if you aren’t actually spying. I shall certainly be most pleased to spend the reward money, which I’m sure will be very generous.”

  Kacha stumbled in front of Vocho as someone pushed her from behind. The carefully coiffed fair hair had come unbound and now flopped against her forehead in its more usual manner. “Nice one, Voch.”

  As Bear shoved him on towards the door, Vocho took stock. It looked like they were in seriously big trouble here. The room only had one door, which had several of Bear’s cronies loitering by it, supposedly blunted ceremonial daggers drawn. The single window was firmly shuttered, and with a half dozen men in front of it in any case. They might have more luck when they got out of there and into the inn beyond, where Cospel was waiting for them, hopefully still both sober and incognito. Vocho wasn’t prepared to bet on it though.

  A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the glare from the inn’s lamps behind him. Vocho had the strangest feeling he should know who it was, but even when the figure stepped forward he couldn’t place the man for some seconds.

  He was tall and slender, older than Vocho by a decade or more, and he moved like he was on oiled springs. One hand was on a duelling sword even finer than Vocho’s. He cocked an eyebrow at Bear, and his smile was as sharp as daggers. It was only when Vocho noticed all the gewgaws and trinkets adorning the man’s very fine clothes – clothes with not a speck of dust or the ghost of a crease – that he realised who he was looking at.

  Bear got there first. “Domenech?”

  “The very same.” Dom gave Vocho the sort of look that said, “Shut up and let me do the talking.” He was glad to leave him to it. Sort of. The Dom he knew hadn’t been that smart, but this Dom looked like he might be. It was a distraction, at least, one that he and Kacha might take advantage of. They shared a look, and he knew she was as ready as he was, if the opportunity should arise.

  Then it was too late for any of the talking that Dom had in mind. Three of Bear’s men lunged at him, and the room became a whirl of men and knives, one flashing duellist’s sword and one heavy, chopping sort of sword as Haval decided that Dom was his for the taking.

  The blade was still pricking Vocho around his kidneys and Bear had his arm twisted up behind his back as well. He obviously hadn’t been paying attention elsewhere though because a sudden “Oof!” sounded by Vocho’s ear, Bear’s grip loosened, the blade fell away, and when Vocho turned, Kacha was standing like some sort of vengeful goddess with a high-heeled shoe in each hand. The end of one heel had blood on it, as did Bear’s head down on the floor. His two cronies were too stunned to move for a second – a second too long, as Kacha aimed a vicious balls-high kick at one and Vocho used his elbows and fists to good effect on the other.

  Finally they seemed unencumbered by anyone trying to kill them. Kill them right this second, at least. Vocho cocked an eyebrow at Kass and her unorthodox weapons.

  “Someone had to bloody well pay for me getting dressed up like this. Be thankful it wasn’t you.” Kass took a swipe at a passing man with one heel, getting him a cracking shot in the stomach and bending him over, breathless. “Now stop pissing about and let’s get out of here.”

  “That’s a plan I can get behind. Where’s Dom?”

  Dom was by the shuttered window, having seemingly attracted the attention of just about every man with a weapon in the place. Even as they watched, Haval took out a chunk of shutter at Dom’s back, missing him by a scant hair as Dom twisted away, skewering another man as he went. Another chop from that brutal blade, another chunk out of the shutter, and Vocho could see what Dom was about even if Haval was too caught up in trying to hack off his head to notice. Kass saw it at the same time.

  Cospel appeared at the doorway, semaphoring desperately with his eyebrows. Vocho had been studying those eyebrows for a long time now, and was fairly sure that Cospel used them to articulate things he dare not say out loud to his employers. This time they seemed to say, “Over here, you stupid bastards.”

  Vocho went, though Kass hesitated. “But Dom?”

  He grabbed her arm and yanked her over to the doorway and Cospel.

  “Said he’d provide a distraction for you, miss.” Cospel had a heavy pewter tankard in one hand and looked about ready to brain anyone who came too close. “And not to let you be stupid and stay in here.”

  A thundering crack came from across the room. Haval seemed to have realised what Dom was about, but too late. His heavy sword had burst open the shutter, and with a wink and a wave Dom flipped through the opening and out into the night. Haval roared after him, but the others seemed less keen to follow. Given that four of them were bleeding out onto the floor, Vocho couldn’t blame them.

  That said, there were eight Ikarans left upright and only three of them, armed with a tankard and some shoes, and the Ikarans seemed to like the odds of that much better. Two of the bolder ones began to advance, and the others fell in behind. Where in hells was his sword? There, half obscured by bleeding bodies where Bear had dropped it. Well, he wasn’t leaving without it. Vocho gave Kass a shove through the doorway, spun and dropped, grabbed the sword and bounced back up – just in time for the lead two Ikarans to slash at his face. The rest came round, trying to flank him.

  He flashed them a bright grin, saluted with his sword as though about to launch himself at them, then stepped back through the doorway. As soon as he was through Kacha slammed it shut and turned the key in the lock. Which just left them with a bar full of curious and not especially friendly-looking drunks. When the barman pulled out a thick slab of wood with some nails driven through it, followed by some of his patrons whipping out some impromptu but serious-looking weapons, Vocho made a snap decision.

  “I say we run.”

  Kass winced – shying from a fight didn’t come naturally – but said, “I don’t think I ever heard you say that before, but you could be right. You’ve got the sword. You keep them busy while we clear a path. Make it quick, OK?”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “You’re welcome.” She was still smarting about the dress, he could tell.

  Then there was no more time for talk. Two hulking great bruisers, the worse for wear but still steady enough on their feet, lumbered in front of Vocho.

  “Here, ain’t you that Vocho bloke?” one asked, and Vocho couldn’t help but preen a little that they knew him.

  “Nah, he’s too little,” the second one said.

  “’T’s him. I seen the pictures in the paper, and besides Bear said so. This here bloke caused all that ruckus in Reyes. Vocho the Imbècil, Bear said – that was it.”

  Vocho the what? His Ikaran wasn’t up to much, but that certainly didn’t sound like Vocho the Great, because he’d learned that word almost first of all. He swished the sword in front of their stupid eyes and prepared to show them that whatever imbècil meant, he wasn’t one. Nothing like a good—

  Kass yanked the back of his shirt. “God’s cogs, will you come on? The guards’ll be here any second, and you’ve got a ruddy great sword in your hand.”

  The two lumberers came for him brandishing a wicked set of brass knuckles and a foot-long metal spike, but a swipe of his sword kept them back. A clonk behind him – Cospel using the tankard to good effect – a muffled scream as Kass’s shoe caught a man somewhere painful, and the doorway to the street was free. Lumberer number one looked like he’d just worked out that being a good foot taller than Vocho was probably all the advantage he needed, so Vocho didn’t need any encouragement to throw himself through the door after Kass and Cospel.

  Then they were running down the street as fast as they could, with a swiftly dwindling crowd after them. A few twists and turns, and they wer
e on their own and out of breath. They stopped. Cospel bent over his knees, gasping. The multicoloured lights that shone from every building, leaked from all the stored sunlight of the glass that covered the city, made his face look like that of a demented clown.

  “I could have taken them, no problem,” Vocho said, leaning against the cool throbbing blue glass of an upmarket tailor’s. “What does imbècil mean?”

  Cospel hesitated, and his eyebrows didn’t know where to look. “Sort of… renowned. Infamous? Yes, that’s it.” His Ikaran was far better than either Vocho’s or Kass’s, though none of them was fluent yet.

  “Renowned? Are you sure?” The way the lumberers had said it, Vocho wasn’t so certain.

  “Er, yes. Pretty sure. Anyway, look what I got.” Cospel held up a clinking bag. “Once Dom got started, it was easy to pick up all the winnings.”

  Vocho took a look in the bag. Not bad for a night’s work. “Cospel, have I ever told you that you’re a marvel?”

  “No, but you can say it again if you like, preferably in cold hard cash.”

  They made their way through the pulsing lights of the foreign city to the cramped rooms above a cobbler’s that were their current home. Kass was unnaturally quiet all the way, and Vocho got the feeling it wasn’t just because she was wearing a dress and sulking about it.

  “Two things,” she said when they got home and Vocho broached the subject. “One, how did Dom know where we were? Two, if he knows, who else does, and do they want to kill us?”

  introducing

  If you enjoyed

  SWORDS AND SCOUNDRELS,

  look out for

  SKYBORN

  Seraphim: Book 1

  by David Dalglish

  The last remnants of humanity live on six islands floating high above the Endless Ocean, fighting a brutal civil war in the skies. The seraphim, elite soldiers trained for aerial combat, battle one another while wielding elements of ice, fire, and lightning.

  The lives of their parents claimed in combat, twins Kael and Breanna Skyborn enter the seraphim academy to follow in their footsteps. There they will learn to harness the elements as weapons and fight at breakneck speeds while soaring high above the waters. But they must learn quickly, for a nearby island has set its hungry eyes upon their home. When the invasion comes, the twins must don their wings and ready their blades to save those they love from annihilation.

  PROLOGUE

  Breanna Skyborn sat at the edge of her world, watching the clouds drift beneath her dangling feet.

  “Bree?”

  Kael’s voice sounded obscenely loud in the twilight quiet. She turned to see her twin brother standing at the stone barricade that marked the end of the road.

  “Over here,” she said.

  The barricade reached up to Kael’s waist, and after a moment’s hesitation, he climbed over, leaving behind smoothly worn cobbles for short grass and soft dirt. Beyond the barricade, there was nothing else. No buildings. No streets. No homes. Just a stretch of unused earth, and then beyond that… the edge. It was for that reason Bree loved it, and her brother hated it.

  “We’re not allowed to be this close,” he said as he approached, each step smaller than the last. “If Aunt Bethy saw…”

  “Aunt Bethy won’t come within twenty feet of the barricade and you know it.”

  Wind blew against her, and she pulled her dark hair back from her face as she smirked at her brother. His pale skin had taken on a golden hue from the fading sunlight, the wind teasing his much shorter hair. The gust made him stop, and she worried he’d decide to leave her there.

  “You’re not afraid, are you?” she asked.

  That was enough to push him on. Kael joined her at the edge of their island. When he sat, he sat cross-legged, and unlike her, he did not let his legs dangle off the side.

  “Just for a little while,” he said. “We should be home when the battle starts.”

  Bree turned away, and she peered over the edge of the island. Below, lazily floating along, were dozens of puffy clouds painted orange by the setting sun. Through their gaps she saw the tumultuous Endless Ocean, its movement only hinted at by the faintest of dark lines. Again the wind blew, and she pretended that she rode upon the wind, flying just like her parents.

  “So why are we out here?” Kael asked, interrupting the silence.

  “I was hoping to see the stars.”

  “Is that it? We’re just here to waste our time?”

  Bree glared at him.

  “You’ve seen the drawings in Teacher Gruden’s books. The stars are beautiful. I was hoping that out here, away from the lanterns, maybe I could see one or two before…”

  She fell silent. Kael let out a sigh.

  “Is that really why you’re out here?”

  It wasn’t, not fully, but she didn’t feel comfortable discussing the other reason. Hours ago their mother and father had sat them down beside the fire of their home. They’d each worn the black uniforms of their island of Weshern, swords dangling from their hips, the silver wings attached to their harnesses polished to a shine.

  The island of Galen won’t back down, so we have no choice, their father had said. We’ve agreed to a battle come the midnight fire. This will be the last, I promise. After this, they won’t have the heart for another.

  “It is,” Bree said, wishing her half lie were more convincing. She looked to their right, where the sun was slipping beneath the horizon. Nightfall wouldn’t be long now. Kael shifted uncomfortably, and she saw him glancing behind them, as if convinced they’d be caught despite being in a secluded corner of their small town of Lowville.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll stay with you, but if we get in trouble, this was all your idea.”

  “It usually is,” she said, smiling at him.

  Kael settled back, sliding a bit farther away from the edge. Together they watched the sun slowly set. In its glow, they caught glimpses of two figures flying through the twilight haze, their mechanical wings shimmering gold as they hovered above a great stretch of green farmland. The men wore red robes along with their wings, easily identifying them as theotechs of Center.

  “Why are they here?” Kael asked when he spotted them.

  “They’re here to oversee the battle,” Bree answered. She’d spent countless nights on her father’s lap, asking him questions. What was it like to fly? Was he ever scared when they fought? Did he think she might ever be a member of the seraphim like they were? Bree knew the two theotechs would bless the battle, ensure everyone followed the agreed-upon rules, and then mark the surrender of the loser. Then would come the vultures, the lowest-ranking members of the theotechs, come to reclaim the treasured technology from the fallen.

  The mention of the coming battle put Kael on edge, and he fell silent as he looked to the sunset. Bree couldn’t blame him for his nervousness. She felt it too, and that was the reason she couldn’t stay home, cooped up, unable to witness the battle or know if her mother and father lived or died. No, she had to be out there. She had to have something to occupy her mind.

  They said nothing as the sun neared the end of its descent. As the strength of its rays weakened, she turned her attention to the east, where the sky had faded to a deep shade of purple. The coming darkness unsettled Bree. Since the day she was born, it had come and gone, but it was rare for her to watch it. She much preferred to be at home next to the hearth, listening to her father tell seraphim stories, or their mother reading Kael ancient tales of knights and angels. Watching the nightly shadow only made her feel… imprisoned.

  It began where the light was at its absolute weakest, an inky black line on the horizon that grew like a cloud. Slowly it crawled, thick as smoke and wide as the horizon itself. The darkness swept over the sky, hiding its many colors. More and more it covered, an unceasing march matched by the sun’s fall. When it reached to the faintly visible moon, it too vanished, the pale crescent tucked away, never to be seen until the following night. Silently the twins watched as the
rolling darkness passed high above their heads, blotting out everything, encasing the world in its deep shadow.

  Bree turned her attention to the setting sun, which looked as if it fled in fear of the darkness complete.

  “It’ll be right there,” she said, pointing. “In the moment after the sun sets and before the darkness reaches it.”

  Most of the sky was gone now, and so far away from the lanterns, the two sat in a darkness so complete it was frightening. The shadow clouds continued rolling, blotting out the field of stars that the ancient drawing books made look so beautiful, so majestic and grand. But just as she’d hoped, there was a gap in the time it took the sun to vanish beyond the horizon and for the rolling shadow to reach it, and she watched with growing anticipation. She’d seen only one star before, the North Star, which shone so brightly that not even the sun could always blot it out. But the other stars, the great field… would they appear in the deepening purple?

  Kael saw it before she did, and he quickly pointed. In the sliver of violet space the star winked into existence, a little drop of light between the horizon and the shadows crashing down on it like a wave. Bree saw it, and she smiled at the sight.

  “Imagine not one but thousands,” Bree said as the dark clouds swallowed the star, pitching the entire city into utter darkness so deep she could not see her brother beside her. “A field spanning the entire sky, lighting up the night in their glow…”

  Bree felt Kael take her hand, and she squeezed it tight. Neither daring to move while so close to the edge and lacking sight, they remained perfectly still as they waited. It would only be a matter of time.

  It started as a faint flicker of red across the eastern horizon. Slowly it grew, spreading, strengthening. Just like the shadows, so too did the fire roll across the sky, setting ablaze the inky clouds that covered the crown of the world. It burned without consuming, only shifting and twisting. It took thirty minutes, but eventually all of the sky raged with midnight fire, bathing the land in red. It’d last until daybreak, when the sun would rise, the fire would die, and the smoky remnants would hover over the morning sky until fading away.