by Mike Shevdon
“Lesley, take Dave and run. Get free while you can,” I heard Blackbird say as I retreated.
“We won’t leave you,” said Lesley.
Raffmir launched a series of diagonal cuts so that I was forced to retreat along the gallery above the stairs. I parried each so that I could draw him away from Blackbird and the others. He swirled and spun his sword in tight arcs, each aimed at testing my defence, each seeking the weakness that would give him the opportunity to deliver a killing blow.
“Do as she says,” I called to them.
“There is no need,” said another voice, materialising from the shadows. “While Raffmir plucks one thorn from our side, I shall pluck the other.”
Altair moved into the doorway, blocking their exit. I tried to warn them, but Raffmir was harrying me, forcing me back around the gallery and into the rooms beyond. He used the momentum of his blade to drive me, making each cut flow neatly from the last. I was forced into a series of jarring parries.
“Good to see that you’ve been practicing while I’ve been gone,” said Raffmir. “Still slow, though, and a little sloppy, I might add.”
I didn’t tell him that the place in my side where I’d been shot was still stiff and healing, and that it was making me favour my left side rather than my right. Instead I used the distraction of his words to launch a counter-attack, pushing him back towards the doorway where he would have less room to manoeuvre.
He spun in front of me, a lightning move, whirling the blade around his body so that my attack glanced off his blade. The hard end of the pommel on the hilt of his sword punched into my side where I’d been wounded. “Oof!” I staggered back.
“Do I detect a weak spot?” he said.
My side flared into pain where he’d punched me. I rolled backwards and came to my feet in time to sweep his downward cut to one side. It would have split my head open, but it was slow and he’d meant me to parry it.
He was playing with me.
TWENTY-THREE
Altair stood in the doorway, outlined in a white nimbus. “No need for any further delay,” said Altair. “We can settle this now, just between us.”
“There is nothing to settle,” said Blackbird.
“Oh, come now,” said Altair. “This is no time for false modesty. You have been a thorn in my side for some time, recently more so.”
“It seems only fitting, given that you’ve been persecuting me and mine for most of my life,” she reminded him.
Altair stepped into the room, avoiding the wreckage of the furniture Raffmir had demolished. As he did, Dave moved around, shielding Lesley.
“I have merely held to the traditions and values of the Feyre, something I do not expect you to comprehend. It is as beyond you as flying is beyond a dog.” He edged forward.
Blackbird backed towards the fireplace and reached behind her with her free hand, feeling tentatively with her fingers for the fire irons hanging on the stand beside the cold grate. She gritted her teeth. She could feel the ache in her palm as her hand neared the dark metal. Her timing would have to be perfect.
Altair moved forward again. “I would offer you the boon of a quick death,” said Altair. “But that would deprive me of the pleasure of delivering what is justly yours.” He reached for her.
“What I don’t understand,” said Blackbird, “is why? If all you wanted to do was destroy the courts then you could have achieved that a hundred times before now. I can’t make sense of a strategy that leads to your own extinction.”
“You forget, Kareesh’s perverted vision is only one version of the possible future — the only one she was prepared to contemplate. There is another way, even though it is not the way I would have chosen, had I been free to negotiate a settlement. I tried, I truly did. You forced my hand. All of this would not have happened if you hadn’t formed a mongrel court and threatened the very purity of the Feyre. That is why this fate is rightly yours.”
“What other way?” asked Blackbird.
“The Wraithkin possess the power to draw the life from others. This is what sets us apart. Using that life-force we can renew ourselves and become what we once were. We have sacrificed our brethren to renew them. We will build a new Court of the Feyre, filled with the life of all who sacrificed themselves. From death will come life, and renewal.” He sounded triumphant.
“You chose genocide?” said Blackbird. “You’d destroy everything just to save your own sorry skins.”
“I did not expect you to comprehend our vision of the future,” said Altair.
“I comprehend it perfectly,” said Blackbird. “I’m just stunned by the myopic, selfish, stupidity of a bid to save a race by consuming its people. It has all the sophistication of trying to turn yourself into a cow by eating beef.”
“You are not fey enough to understand,” said Altair.
“You mad bastard,” said Blackbird, shaking with anger. “You deserve the extinction that will certainly achieve. So say I! Lesley!” She launched William at Lesley. Squealing in surprise, William flailed his chubby arms as he sailed through the air to be half-caught by Lesley, who broke his fall and rolled with him back onto the bed, her relief at catching him written plainly on her face.
Blackbird reached behind her.
At that moment, Big Dave launched himself into a flying tackle at Altair. Altair caught the movement in the corner of his eye and swept the sword around, using his fist on the hilt to backhand the attack. He connected with Dave’s chest and Dave flew backwards as if hit by a truck, crashing into the wall so hard it cracked the plaster, showering everyone with fine dust.
“Pathetic,” said Altair, “and pointless.”
As Lesley screamed, Blackbird seized the iron poker from the stand, ignoring the burning shock travelling up her arm and swung at Altair’s head. Altair ducked and it swished through the space where his head had been. Altair swatted the back of Blackbird’s hand and she could no longer keep hold of the bitingly cold, nerve-jangling metal. It flew from her hand, bounced off the wall and landed on the floor behind him. Altair had hold of her wrist.
“Normally,” he said, eyes narrowing, “I would not pollute myself by drawing the life from a mongrel like you, but in this one case I will make an exception.” Blackbird felt the room chill as the room filled with limpid, swirling moonlight. She gasped as he twisted her arm cruelly, feeling the bite of Altair’s magic sinking into her skin where he gripped her. She swatted at his head with her free hand but he evaded her easily. She was weak. She could feel the fight draining from her.
“At last,” said Altair, “you will get what you deserve.”
There was a sound like an impact on a wet melon. Altair’s eyes rolled up until only the whites showed and then closed. For a moment he looked beatifically peaceful, and then he let go of Blackbird and sank to his knees. Behind him, Lesley was standing with the fire poker, held two handed. It was dripping blood. “I hit him,” she said, and dropped the poker.
Altair’s eyes opened. For a moment he had trouble focusing.
“You wanted my magic,” said Blackbird. “So take it!”
She pressed her hands to either side of his head. He tried to pull away, but she had him firm. A vague scent of cooking meat came into the room, and steam rose from Altair’s kneeling body.
“No!” he screamed. “Noooo!” He grasped her wrists, trying to seize control of both her and her power, but Blackbird’s magic was in the ascendant. She had her power and she was determined to use it.
“Take it,” she said. “Take it all!”
The kneeling form burst into flame, the heat forcing Lesley back. The front of Blackbird’s dress started to blacken as she held onto him, the column of flame rising around her face. Her hair was a crown of copper flames, and her eyes were filled with the reflection of fire. She held him until there were only charred, hollow remnants, and then she let go. The smoking corpse toppled sideways and fell into ashes.
Blackbird staggered, toppled sideways, and fell.
&nb
sp; When she came to she was looking up into Lesley’s face. “William. The baby…” she said. “Is he…?”
Lesley passed William to her, and she wrapped herself around him. She stank of smoke, and reeked of the foul smell of burned flesh, but she had her son. He cried in her arms while she rocked him, whispering small words of comfort.
“Dave?” Blackbird asked.
Lesley shook her head. “Something broke when he hit the wall,” she said. “I tried to move him, to make him more comfortable, but… no.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” said Blackbird, reaching for her hand. She winced where the wheals left by the iron poker had blistered her hand, but held on anyway. “If he hadn’t distracted Altair…”
“I know,” said Lesley. “I can’t think about it. It hurts…”
“He was protecting us,” said Blackbird. “Both of us.” She let go of Lesley’s hand and reached around her shoulder, pulling her close.
There was a low sound, like a rhythmic thumping. It built until they could hear the wine of the helicopter’s motors as it banked over the house.
“What now?” said Blackbird.
“I just want to curl up,” said Lesley. “I want it to stop.”
“We have to get out,” said Blackbird. “Come on, help me up.”
They reached the doorway. Lesley couldn’t look at the broken body of Dave where it sagged against the wall. His eyes were open but they no longer saw. When they reached the door it became obvious the house was alight. Flames ran down the curtains, and smoke was pouring from the other rooms.
“Where’s Niall?” asked Blackbird.
“I don’t know,” said Lesley. Maybe he got out?” She didn’t sound as if she believed it.
Blackbird handed William to Lesley, who immediately started yelling. “Take him outside. Get him away from the fire and the smoke.”
“You have to come with us,” said Lesley. “We can’t make it alone.”
“Do it!” ordered Blackbird. “I can walk through the flames and survive, but you can’t and neither can William.”
“Then come with us,” said Lesley.
“I have to find Niall,” said Blackbird.
“I’ve looked forward to this for so long,” said Raffmir as he drove me back through the house, away from Blackbird and Altair. He moved in fast, ringing blows onto my guard, then drifted through the hanging coils of smoke like a phantom. Somewhere the house had caught fire. I could hear pops and bangs above me as it spread.
Raffmir’s magic blossomed out around me, only to be met by my own. Purple light flared in the smoke where our power met, illuminating the room with unearthly light. Flickering moonlight rippled in the smoke.
“You’re forgetting,” I goaded him. “You’ve already tried to kill me once, and you failed. So did your sister.”
He launched into a series of punishing strikes, putting pressure on my weak side, making me parry his blows in painful repetition. The concentration of meeting his attacks while holding back his power was telling on me. I whirled aside and spun back on him, trying to push him back, but he danced lightly away into the smoke, laughing at my clumsiness.
“You can’t provoke me, I’m in too good a mood,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself after you’re gone. No one is as much fun to taunt as you are. You really should avoid gambling games,” he said. “Your face is too open, too readable.”
“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?” I asked him.
He stepped into my next cut, whirled around and struck me again, exploiting the same spot as before. “Ooof!”
He skipped backwards as I made a clumsy sweep to try and catch him out. He grinned at me, actually waiting until I recovered.
“I’ll give you this,” he said. “You have been practicing and you’re better than you were, but you’ll never be a great swordsman. You lack the willpower, the grace, the poise.” He gestured expansively.
I regained my feet, wishing that I hadn’t had two of Sam Veldon’s bullets dug out of my side. Immediately, his power pressed against mine and he resumed hammering at my defences, testing the strength in my arms until the muscles burned with effort, and using light swift blows to force me into positions that made me unbalanced and vulnerable. That wasn’t what worried me, though.
Raffmir’s favourite technique was like a flourish at the end of a signature, a whirling motion where his sword arced around him in a spiral, protecting him from incoming blows, but somehow the blade emerged in a low thrust designed to punch straight through the opponent’s defences. He’d used the same move twice, now, but only with the pommel of his sword, and each time I’d seen it coming and not been able to do a damned thing about it. He knew he could have me any time he wanted.
He forced me back into the moment by raining cuts on my head, making me lift my sword to deflect them away. I skipped backwards and came back at him with a horizontal slice that would have parted his head from his shoulders if it had been there. Instead he laughed at me.
“You’re such a bore,” he said. “That’s your problem. Everything’s life and death with you. You never have any fun.”
“It’s only life and death when you’re around,” I told him. “Have you considered that you may be part of the problem?”
He swept in again, testing my guard, making me sweat. The air was getting bad, filled with acrid smoke, but it didn’t seem to bother Raffmir.
“I’m doing you a favour,” he said. “You should thank me for lifting the burden from your shoulders.”
Somewhere in the house, something collapsed, and there was a whoosh as the flames caught and spread. I could hear the fire now. We didn’t have long before Raffmir wouldn’t need to skewer me on his sword, I would be roasted instead. I edged back towards the doorway.
“Oh, no,” said Raffmir. He danced in, stepping in with rapid thrusts and short sharp cuts, so that I was driven back from the doorway. “You’re not leaving me, the party’s only just started.”
Over the whistle and pop of the fire, another sound came. There was a rhythmic thumping and then a whine as a helicopter banked over the house.
Raffmir listened attentively. “Do you hear that?” he said.
“A chopper,” I said. “Military by the sound of it.” I was getting tired, and I knew it. I didn’t have the stamina he had. He was rested and prepared. I wasn’t.
“It’s the sound of the cavalry arriving too late,” said Raffmir. “It would be great if they would help you, but they won’t. That’s what you fail to understand. I told you before, they will never accept you. No one will. You’re a misfit.”
“No,” I told him. “You’re the ones who don’t fit. You tried to pull this off before and you messed up. You got your arses kicked and you had to run. That’s what really gets to you isn’t it? Then you and your mad sister failed to kill me. Then I stopped you infecting the world with your mad diseases. Every time you’ve failed.”
“You know, I tire of the whiny tone of your voice.” He slowly circled me.
“Niall?” said Blackbird from the doorway. I could see her outline through the smoke.
“Hasn’t Altair shut you up yet?” asked Raffmir.
“Altair’s dead,” said Blackbird. “I killed him.”
“Ah, then it’s all to play for,” said Raffmir. “There will be a new Lord of the Seventh Court, and I fancy I may be up for the part.”
“Get out while you can,” I told her. “Get people out.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she said.
“You hear that?” said Raffmir. “She’s not leaving you. That means that when I’ve killed you I can kill her too. That should be enough to secure my position on its own.”
“You?” I said. “You’re not capable. It’s just one failure after another. You know what? You couldn’t even best my daughter. A fifteen year-old girl and she had the better of you.”
“That’s an argument we can settle, right now,” he said. He danced in,
rattling blows off my guard. He moved in, and I saw it coming.
“Niall!” screamed Blackbird.
He whirled in front of me and I did the only thing I could think of. I did exactly the same. I spun on the spot, twisting my sword in an elaborate spiral, just as he’d demonstrated for me. I heard a tang, as his blade rang off mine, and then felt a thump which travelled down the blade.
I opened my eyes. I wasn’t even aware I’d closed them. In front of me was Raffmir, close enough for a kiss. He looked down at my hands wrapped around the hilt, the blade of my sword piercing his chest. The blade fell from his hand and clattered on the floor.
“No,” he coughed. “That’s too rare, too special.”
I jerked the blade in and up. He spasmed.
“You’re enjoying this,” he gasped. “We’re alike, you and I.”
“No we’re not.” I told him. “I’m not dying.”
“Here,” he said, lifting his hand. “If I must go…” he laughed a hollow laugh. “A parting gift. Something for… old… times.” He opened his hand and there was a tiny light there, like a minute star.
I pulled the blade. It slid with a sucking sound from his chest, and in a move which would make Garvin proud I arced the blade around and struck his head clean from his body. It sailed into the corner of the room where it bounced once and rolled into the corner. His body folded in on itself and crumpled to the floor.
“It’s done,” I said, stepping back, the smoke coiling about me.
“Niall?” said Blackbird. “What’s that?” Above Raffmir’s remains, the tiny star floated in the air. Now I looked more closely it seemed to be shimmering.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Raffmir made it.”
“It’s still there,” she pointed out.
“I can see that’” I said.
“It should have disappeared when he died,” she said. “You’re sure he’s dead?”
“His head’s over there,” I pointed out.
I put my hand out and the star floated gently over to it, hovering over my palm. It was bright white, like an intense spark, but persistent. I passed my hand around it. It followed my hands, almost as if it liked me.