by L. W. Jacobs
Then a black fletching sprouted from his throat. Eyna! A second arrow took down the other brawler, and his companions were running into the room. “I’ll get this one back to the boat!” Tai yelled, realizing the roar of fire was louder.
They nodded and reached for a bale. Snagging the jute cord around the man-sized bale, Tai shoved for the door. He swung around the side of the building, pushing for speed even as his back started to ache, flying over fire and fight. He dropped the bale in the boat and shot back up. Fighters from Ilrick’s diversion had leapt the flames now, or swam in, as the flames ate through oiled dock wood.
Tai arced up and over, searching for his friends—there. Surrounded by fighters, Karhail worked his sword in a blur, bodies strewn around him, but there were too many. Already, an arrow pierced his shoulder. “Karhail!” Tai shouted. The man couldn’t hear. He would be cut down.
Fear hit him then, cramping his gut, fear he’d been denying the whole battle. But it was an old fear, a familiar fear from the streets. He couldn’t let it control him. Tai unbuckled his sheathed sword, grabbed it at both ends, and shot down at the crowd.
He hit like a scythe, pushing up and forward to arc through them, men piling up against his sword. Tai dropped back. “Karhail!” he held out his arms. “Come on, I got you!”
“I’m fine!” the Seinjialese shouted, beating back a blow and darting through the opening. “Get the others!”
Tai shot up again, saw Theron and Lumo hemmed in by fire on one side, fighters on the other. The docks were falling apart, timbers groaning as fire swept closer to the building. To their left, Eyna and Beal were wafting toward the dock, a bale between them. “Lumo!” he yelled. “Theron! We got the yura. Let’s go!”
Theron spun and leapt for the water. Lumo looked back, eyes wide, and in that moment, a sword cut deep into his stomach. “Lumo!” Tai shot through the flames, grabbed the thick man under the arms, and pushed up.
They shot above the crowd, swords and arrows whistling around them. Lumo was wet, his blood spraying the breeze.
“Spirits,” Tai cursed, trying to think, back aching and bends threatening to overwhelm him. “Lumo! Press the wound! I’m taking you in!”
There was no answer—the man was out. Tai looked back—the boat was shoving off, men in it. They would have to be okay. Tai pushed toward the bluffs, speeding over a line of dock guards running toward the blaze.
He dropped them in front of Marrem’s place, the Minchu dead weight on his shoulder. “Lumo! Wake up!” There was no answer. Tai staggered across the street, pounded on the door, desperately holding to his resonance to stave off the bends. “Marrem! Marrem, wake up!”
A glow appeared in the window, then came the scrape of a bar being drawn back. A crack appeared, Marrem’s seamed face in the lamplight. “Yes?” Her eyes widened at the sight of the bloody Minchu, and she drew the door wide. “Come in.”
Hours later, night still dark outside, the wound was stitched, and Lumo slept peacefully under a heavy draught of dreamleaf. Marrem had insisted on tending Tai, too, bandaging a cut along his ribcage, but he’d refused the dreamleaf. They sat now in silence, room lit by two lanterns, the only sound Lumo’s ragged breathing and the occasional shout or footsteps outside.
“This came of the noise we heard earlier, I suppose,” Marrem said, addressing him in Achuri.
Tai nodded his head. “I’m sorry to bring trouble to your house, older sister.”
Marrem adjusted her linen dress. “You always do. Though this doesn’t look like gang work to me.”
“It’s not. We…broke into a Coldferth dockhouse.”
Marrem pursed her lips. “Any others wounded?”
“Yes, ma’am. Many, I fear, though none of ours.”
“And what did you expect? You were here for the war; you know how these things end.” She leaned forward, dabbing sweat on Lumo’s brow. “Is this how you plan to do it better?”
Her words came back to him, when he’d come for Aelya: You can do better than that, or this will just keep going.
“No, ma’am. I…” Tai broke off, shifted. “I argued against any killing, but the others didn’t agree.”
She sat back again. “Men usually don’t. Little brother, people will have seen this Minchu tonight. They’ll remember him. I can’t keep him here, not with my kids upstairs.”
“I know.” Tai eyed Lumo, the pale cast to his face. “Is he safe to move?”
“No,” she said. “That’s the trouble you’ve brought me, is a stomach-wounded man who needs at least a week, putting us all in danger. We could be arrested, sent to the camp. The arrests are increasing, you know.”
Tai bowed his head. “I’m without excuse. I’ll take him when I go.”
“You’ll do no such thing. What you will do is help me move him upstairs. We’ll keep him in the girls’ room, till he’s better.”
Relief flooded him, like another wave of exhaustion. “Thank you.” Tai eyed his friend. “Will he get better?” He’d seen stomach wounds before, knew they were dangerous.
“He may,” Marrem said simply. “That is in the ancestors’ hands now. We do what we can.”
Together they readied a sling and moved the Minchu onto it, Tai wincing as fresh blood soaked the bandages. Lumo woke while they were on the stairs, rolling and moaning, but they got him to the top and settled. Marrem’s raven-haired daughters gazed blearily as they settled the man down, so long his feet hung from the bed.
“You can go now, Tai. I imagine the rest of your crew is anxious for you.” She spoke in Yersh, likely not wanting her daughters to understand.
“I would stay—”
“You will go,” Marrem interrupted. “Come back tomorrow night and you can check on him. He’s…not wild, is he?”
Tai laughed, humor mixing with concern. “He’s about the gentlest man you could find.” He stood. “Thank you, Marrem.”
“It’s my work,” she said simply. “But don’t bring me any more, Tai. Don’t make any more. You know better than this.”
Her words clung to him as he stepped out and began the long walk to the mines.
19
He rose full-made from the hilltop, axe already in hand, and killed every man what stood in his way. Northerners with their piety and faith—faugh! The genitors conquered with blood.
—Yati grandmother, from Markels, Travels Among the Yati
Tai descended into the cave just as the eastern horizon was lighting orange, exhausted and worried for Lumo.
“Tai!” Ilrick called. “You made it!”
“’Bout mecking time,” Aelya barked, but she looked relieved.
“Did others not return?” Tai asked, glancing around. Beal was bandaging Karhail’s leg, bloody arrow beside them.
“Lumo,” Ilrick said, smile fading. “He wasn’t with us in the boat.”
“Nor us in the city,” Weiland said. “I looked for him, but…”
“He’s at a healer’s in Riverbottom,” Tai said, sitting down wearily. The place stank of yura, their two bales stacked on a far stone. “He took a sword to the stomach just as we were leaving.”
“The stomach?” Eyna asked, blanching. The woman wore a bandage along the scalp of her red hair.
“Is he gonna be all right?” Ilrick asked, subdued for once.
Tai shrugged, too tired to soften the blow. “Healer doesn’t know. The wound was deep.”
“Prophet’s peace on him.” Ilrick shook his head. “The bastards saw through me early. Couldn’t hold ’em nearly as long as I normally would, dripping wet like that and the sounds of the boat and all.”
“You did what you could,” Karhail said. “They must be bulking up guard duties since we hit the boats. Our plan was for half as many men.”
“And twice as much loot,” Ilrick said.
“Well, it didn’t help that the place was burning down,” Beal said, wrapping another layer of linen around Karhail’s leg.
It took Tai a second to register that. “Right.
I started most of that fire, to try and slow the men coming back from Ilrick’s diversion.”
“Fat lot of good it did. Just made ’em fight harder, and us with no time to steal more yura.”
Tai was too tired to defend himself. “Yeah. I should have figured something else out.”
“No,” Karhail said, “you did well. That fire slowed them down, and Tai was the one that got me out, got Lumo out when he might have died afterwards.”
Beal’s face darkened. “Just because he’s a stronger wafter.”
“Yes,” Karhail said, “because he’s a stronger wafter. He’s got an advantage, just like Lumo has an advantage, and Weiland now. We need more of that. We all need to overcome, and we need every new recruit to overcome too. The only way we can win this is if we all get an edge.”
Weiland nodded from his sprawl near the back. “The only way I beat that slip was to outlast him. He was fast, and a good shot, but my uai lasts a lifetime these days.”
One of the new recruits, Matle, stood. “I’ll do it. I’ll take the yura, or whatever. I want to waft like Tai.”
Beal scowled and Karhail nodded. “Good. It doesn’t work for everyone, but that’s how Weiland got his power.” He nodded to the bales, a corner of one ripped open and spilling yura balls. “Take fifteen of those and see what happens.”
“Fifteen?”
Weiland nodded. “And you want to step out for a while. It isn’t pleasant.”
The recruit looked less certain at this but counted out the balls and left for a side cavern. “Good luck!” Tai clasped his shoulder.
“Aye, Gods’ favor!” Ilrick called, then looked ashamed at the overtly religious expression.
“Is that how many it takes?” Theron asked. He was a stocky Seinjialese brawler, apparently an old friend of Karhail’s. “Fifteen balls?”
“Beal took twelve and failed,” Karhail said. “Weiland took fifteen and succeeded. I think we have enough to be generous now.”
“Mecking right we do,” Ilrick said, taking a seat on the nearer bale. “Got enough here to buy ourselves an army.”
“Is that the plan, then?” Tai asked. “To build an army bigger than the Councilate’s?”
“If we can, sure,” Karhail said. “We’re already recruiting in other mines, in the city, in the surrounding villages, and we’ve got a hideout in the west hills—that’s where Eyna and Matle started out. But we’re not hiring mercenaries. We need people committed to the cause.”
As if to confirm, a shout echoed from the corridor Matle had taken. “And if we can’t? Even this amount of yura is a gnat on the Councilate’s back.”
“If we can’t outman them,” Weiland said, stirring from his sprawl, “we outmoney them.”
“Aye,” Karhail agreed. “That’s our main plan. We don’t worry about the Councilate—they’ve only a small garrison here. We don’t worry about the local House militias, either—we don’t have the strength to attack them full-on yet. Instead, we hit warehouses and riverboats, steal as much yura as we can, and burn the rest down.”
“You make it too expensive for them to stay,” Tai said slowly.
Weiland nodded. “The Houses are here for money. The Councilate’s here for money. If they can’t make it, they’ll pull out.”
A gust of air came from Matle’s direction, and the ring of iron on iron. “And what about the prison camp? They’re arresting more people every day.”
Karhail grimaced. “The trouble is intelligence. Until we know what the Councilate’s planning, what their real strength is, where the good points to hit would be, it’s too dangerous to go at that size target yet. We need someone on the inside, someone who can get us that. In the meantime, the Houses make realistic targets and give us the funds we need to grow.”
Tai nodded. “So, why not focus on one of them? Why Galya yesterday and Coldferth today?”
Ilrick grinned. “Depends on who’s paying.”
Karhail shot him a look, but Tai had heard. “What?”
“I said it depends on who’s paying,” Ilrick repeated. “Alsthen pays us to hit Galya. Galya gives us a nice bit to hit Coldferth, and Coldferth shells out to attack Alsthen. ’S’how we got started.”
“You…work for the Houses?” It was like he’d said up was down. “I thought you were trying to shut them down.”
“We are,” Karhail growled. “Up until now, we haven’t had the money to train on our own, so we took contracts to hit other Houses.”
“Use their own money to destroy them,” Ilrick nodded.
Tai shook his head. “But why would they do that? Why would you do that?”
“Because they want the competition out,” Weiland said. “It’s why we can’t just focus on one. As soon as one’s gone, the other Houses will swallow their holdings and become that much stronger. We have to bring them all down at once.”
“So, the yura I stole from Coldferth, was that—”
“Aye,” Ilrick nodded. “Galya gave us the intel, paid us to do it.”
Tai clenched his fists. “You lied to me.”
I told you they were trying to use you.
“You weren’t one of us then,” Karhail said, a note of warning in his voice. “There was no need for you to know.”
“Except that I was the one taking the risk.” Tai shook his head. “For a bunch of mercenaries?”
“We’re not mercenaries,” Karhail barked. “These are all hits we’d have done anyway; we just needed the money till we could make a major theft. But sinking Coldferth’s ship last week, the attack on the dockhouse last night, those are all us, and those are our future. With this yura”—he pounded his fist on one of the bales—“we won’t need their contracts anymore. We can feed more people, buy more arms, send out more recruits—and use your yura trick to get an edge.”
Shouts echoed down the corridor, and a gust of wind. “Speaking of which,” Weiland said, standing, “sounds like we might need to check on—”
A blast of air took his words, flinging sand and rocks into the chamber. Tai threw up an arm protectively.
The men leapt to their feet, sound of Matle’s shouts louder now, desperate.
“See what’s going on,” Karhail called. “Beal, Weiland—”
“I’m not going in there!” Beal cried, another blast rattling debris down the passage.
Tai ran for the tunnel Matle had taken. Weiland said the process wasn’t pleasant, but something was wrong here. This sounded worse than unpleasant.
He paused at a branching, listening. The shouts echoed, almost like two voices, a scream and a roar, but he couldn’t tell from where. Wind blasted again, pebbles pelting Tai’s skin, and he ran that way, coming out into one of the storage chambers.
It was a disaster. Torches lay guttering on the floor, clothes and dried foods and weapons strewn everywhere, as though a thunderstorm had passed through the cave. The roars and screams echoed, closer, but he couldn’t see Matle. Tai strained for the words—
“—again. You shall be deposed! Justice be visited—”
A wind picked up in the cavern. “You’ve kept me down long enough, Aymila,” Matle roared, interrupted his scream. “See how you fade even now. Keep your influences—”
A crash sounded overhead. Tai looked up to see the recruit bounce off a rock icicle midair, screaming and roaring, then plunge for the floor.
“Matle!” Tai struck his resonance and shot up, arcing to intersect him.
A wild wind smashed into him, driving him left, and he missed the young man, barely avoiding an icicle himself in the tight space. “Matle, what are you doing? Stop!”
Karhail and Weiland appeared at the door. Tai shot down toward Matle, the boy roaring even as he lay, limbs twisted at odd angles. Weiland got to him first, but before Tai could get there, the boy shot up again, Weiland a blur around him. Tai shot after, Karhail yelling something, a gale wind blowing down from the ceiling. Tai pushed through it, caught Matle, shoved down hard to take them away from the ceiling. Weila
nd snapped into regular time, clinging to Matle’s body. “Get us down, boy. He’s dead, or near so.”
“Not if he’s resonating like this!” Tai shouted over Matle, who’d gone back to lunatic raving.
With a lurch, Matle added downward force to Tai’s, and Tai had to switch, pushing up to brake them from crashing into the floor.
They touched down and Weiland blurred. Bonds appeared on Matle, tying him to a rock pillar.
Not a moment too soon. The boy screamed more nonsense, skin straining against his bonds, and wind tore through the cavern. “What in Prophet’s name?” Karhail yelled, shielding himself from the winds, spears and swords flying with the cloth and dirt.
“His resonance!” Tai yelled. “He can’t control it! We’ve got to calm him—dreamleaf!”
A wall of air hit them, slamming all four into the wall, all discussion lost in the roar. Cloth and beans and shields and stones piled onto them, all the detritus of the storeroom pressing them into the stone. Tai pushed the other direction, hard, straining off the wall—
Then the force was gone. Debris rained down in the sudden silence.
“Matle?”
The boy hung in his bonds, skin sliced and raw, covered in blood. Tai scanned the ground for dreamleaf, honeywine, anything—
“He’s dead.” Weiland appeared next to Matle, holding the youth’s chin in one hand. The green eyes were sightless. “Don’t know what happened, but he’s done now.”
“Ancestors’ blood,” Tai panted, head spinning from the bends. Every bone in the Yati boy’s body looked like it was broken. “What was that?”
Karhail approached, favoring his arrow-shot leg, bleeding from a gash on his neck. “Something went wrong.” His expression was stony. “Did this happen to you, Tai?”
“No.”
“Weiland?”
The slip was slower to answer. “Something might have happened like this. I fought a good long time before I got through the challenges. And there were some voices. Though I don’t think I was shouting.”