First Blood

by K. Gorman

  She was ready for it this time. She ducked into a roll, and the spell whistled over her head, heat igniting the air. The mercari on her armor flared in defense, and the two fey leapt into action.

  A demon screamed, and a fountain of blood exploded from the middle of the group. Two others followed in quick succession, and Catrin had a sudden keen understanding of just how powerful the orb of destruction was—Yena certainly hadn’t been remote-exploding bodies on the way up to the room.

  The other five fell to a combination of sword slashes and hits from Matteo’s gun. Bright pain seared her hip as one of the demons managed to slash her thigh before she killed him. She grunted, reversed her grip, and stabbed her blade into his neck, leaning into the pain to shove all her weight into the flesh until the blade’s edge ran through the back of the throat and into his spinal cord.

  The demon fell like a bag of bricks. She limped free for a few strides before Doneil caught up with her. Magic shoved into her skin, knitting the wound in a stinging pain—a quick patch job, without finesse.

  With a hasty glance to check on the group—all present, unhurt, and accounted for—she tucked back into a jog, she and Nales leading.

  When they closed in on the pathway to the library, the smell of death hit her like a wall.

  The hallway was filled with corpses.

  They were a mix of demons, mostly humanoid, but some of them not. Several hellhound bodies lay among them, differentiated by their fur and structure, along with a few other creatures she hadn’t seen before. Something stopped her from stepping out, some sense that triggered a warning and a second look. The corpses were all strewn out, their limbs and bodies askew, like they’d been thrown.

  And, without fail, every one of them was missing a head.

  Whatever had killed them had gone through and meticulously crushed or ripped them off.

  A series of thick claw marks lay in the stone wall, some of them twenty feet high. One, lower on the wall, held a blood smear, as if something had smashed one of the bodies there and wiped it along. Giant, four-pronged footprints amid and on top of the bodies gave no subtlety as to the perpetrator’s identity.

  She gestured to them with the edge of her blade. “Our favorite giant chicken was here.”

  Behind her, Doneil gave a low whistle. “And she was pissed.”

  “Either that, or she really likes biting heads.” She grimaced, a sudden image of the bird snapping at her own head. “Something to watch for.”

  To that, Doneil said nothing.

  She picked her way through the hall. The smell of blood drenched her nose. Some of it was old, having clearly been dead before it was spilled. Gray-skinned corpses, dead long before the bird had crushed their heads, lay in slumps, veins black against their gray-green skin. Some of their armor had great slash marks on it, as if the bird had attempted to pry them open but found its claws were too big. Others had simply been crushed, blood imprinted into them from a heavy foot.

  Nales jogged closer, keeping pace a half dozen feet away. He didn’t say anything, just looked over the corpses with a grim, assessing eye that surprised her.

  “That bird was angry,” she commented. “Very angry.”

  “She has reason to be. Grobitzsnak tortured her, corrupted her power, and used her like a battery of pain—and all evidence points to him having kept her locked up. He’s had her for three centuries, Catrin.”

  Three centuries of imprisonment. On top of what it he had done to her.

  Yeah, she’d be pissed, too.

  She hesitated. “How sentient is she?”

  In her experience, the forest tended to feel things in moods. Not actual, concentrated thought.

  But she hadn’t met many forest lords, and none of them face to face.

  Nales grunted. “About on par with your Kodanh.”

  Ah. Fairly sentient, then. As an elemental being, Kodanh had a keen intelligence—but it was like that of a wolf or lion. Not so much simple as less bothered with small things like organized civilization and more concerned with power and territory.

  Other summon spirits had complex, multi-faceted rituals tied to them—rites done over the summer moon, regular offerings left at temples, that sort of thing.

  Kodanh took payment by use and in blood.

  Simple, primal, but effective.

  If someone had done to Kodanh what Grobitzsnak had done to Franas, his vengeance would be a long and violent affair.

  So, that’s why they set it loose.

  They passed the library. The door was open, the same crystal lights glowing from inside, but she saw neither of the two goat demons they had encountered before—only smears of blood on the floor where she’d killed the others.

  Then, somewhere below them, magic pulsed.

  Catrin halted. A scream followed it, shrill and piercing. The footfalls of something enormous thudded in the near distance, one level below them. She felt a different magic, booming and chaotic, burning like a caustic haze, fighting it.

  Grobitzsnak, dealing with the monster they’d unleashed.

  Yena swore viciously, a litany in High Fey. Her face twisted. “The gate is that way. They’re right next to it.”

  A hardness settled in her gut. Of course they were. Nothing could ever be easy tonight.

  Catrin’s grip turned to steel on her blades as her mind raced, weighing their options.

  “We could go around,” Doneil suggested. “It might take longer, but it would be safer.”

  “There’s only one hall that leads to the gate,” Yena said. “And they’re in it.”

  “Maybe they’ll move,” she said.

  Below, another crash of magic shuddered through the castle. For one long, heart-stopping second, the crystal lights on the walls flickered.

  “Could we fight him?” Nales asked.

  His head tilted, gaze focused on the vacant hallway in the direction of the magical battle as he, like the rest of them, tried to pay attention to his instincts to follow it.

  Catrin gave him a blank, disbelieving look. “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “You already offered to kill him once. I figured that we may have an advantage, given that he’s currently busy. I imagine Franas would be happy for the help.”

  “I don’t think Franas is happy about much of anything right now.”

  Another crash echoed through the castle, this one accompanied by another deep, drawn-out shriek. All of the hair on the back of her neck lifted.

  They all waited for several long seconds, listening. Around them, the smell of death sat in the air, a coarse, humid reek. She wrinkled her nose.

  “We must get to that gate.” Yena’s voice shook.

  Catrin made a frustrated sound in her throat. “Why? What is so special about this particular gate that you need to get to it? Why not come with us, cool your heels at Pemberlin for a bit, maybe switch over to the Raidt if you feel the humans aren’t up to your speed—suns knows they’d be happy to have you. There are other gates. They can’t all be broken.”

  There was a small silence.

  “Not broken, no. Changed,” Yena said, her tone wavering, rich with emotion. A frown cut down her face, and her nose twisted into a snarl. She shook her head. “I want to kill him.”

  Ah. So that was it.

  Catrin let out a breath. “Yes, well, so do I—but we have other priorities. We all need to get out of here.”

  There was another small silence. In it, the castle rocked again, the semi-distant roar vibrating up from its depths. Magic clashed together like two siege engines, the effect dulled into a violent, discordant hum by the layers of stone between them.

  Then, between one second and the next, everything stopped.

  Catrin froze. The pit dropped out of her stomach. Around her, there was a ripple of expression.

  Was it over?

  Yena frowned, her body tense. “I can’t sense him anymore.”

  Shit. Without the fight happening, they were blind again.

  Cat
rin exhaled and took a moment to rub the bridge of her nose, cringing at the blood and grit on her skin.

  Why do I have a bad feeling about this?

  She drew her blades. “Right. Glamour back up. Let’s see if we can get around him.”

  Chapter 28

  They tried to go a roundabout way, away from the bodies. It was hard. Twice, they got caught in dead ends and had to double back. Once, they realized that the path was curving along the other side of the mountain. They ran into six separate squads, two of them with seeing scripts that saw right through them. Yena eviscerated both magic users into shuddering clumps of bloody, broken armor.

  When they finally did find a proper, out of the way path, tracing their way back toward the gate by trial and error, it turned out that all their efforts had been useless.

  Grobitzsnak was still in the hallway in front of the gate, doing something with the bird.

  “Fuck.” Catrin put extra emphasis into the swear, biting her teeth together to keep herself from screaming her rage. “Elrya’s holy tit, can’t we just get one break?”

  Technically, the gods had already been kind to them. They had found their charges relatively unharmed, acquired both a book and an orb of destruction, and were all still alive and in one piece.

  But, with the sight of Grobitzsnak in the other hallway, bent over, doing something with the bird’s corpse, and the sight of the ornate gate-room doors so tantalizingly out of reach not far behind him, she felt the gods would permit the blasphemy.

  “Gods fucking damn it all,” she hissed, pacing away from the corner to a place out of Grobitzsnak’s earshot, teeth bared at the rest of the world. “Gods fucking damn it!”

  “Let me guess,” Doneil said dryly. “He’s still there.”

  “Yes.” She took a breath, lip curling. “And he doesn’t look like he’s moving.”

  And she highly doubted the glamour would fool him a second time. Not after a battle with his magic still loose and active.

  By the looks on the fey’s faces, they didn’t think so, either.

  “We could fight him.” Yena bared her teeth. “I bet I could win.”

  “You need to get on the other side of him.” Her gaze snapped up. “Caracel, please tell her. Either we leave this mountain and find another gate, or you two need to do your damnedest to get on his other side.”

  Caracel said nothing. Instead, his vision was half-focused, contemplating something.

  She rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

  Great. Thanks for that.

  Yena’s jaw muscles rippled in her cheeks. She stared at the end of the hall, dead-eyed and intent. Her fingers tensed into claws at her sides.

  She still wanted to kill Grobitzsnak. Catrin could feel it.

  “I think we should leave,” Catrin said. “It’s the safest option—for everyone. Pemberlin would be delighted to house you. We can find another gate. You will be delayed, but you will be alive.”

  “We don’t even know if the other gates are still working,” Yena said. “This one could just be a fluke!”

  “And, chances are, they could be just fine. Hells, I bet your people and the goblins are working on a solution right now.” She cringed at linking the two races in a single sentence—the fey did not like the goblins—but they were the ones who, historically, operated and maintained the gates.

  Yena’s gaze was sharp, angry. “You want to kill him, too. Don’t even deny it, rnari.”

  She let out a frustrated breath. Her mind flicked back, remembering how Yena had crunched the Void Wraith to the wall. How, with the power of the orb, she had exploded body with barely a thought.

  “If we don’t kill him, hundreds will die.” Nales’ fingers flexed, and he rubbed the inside of his forearm where the tendons sat. Like Caracel, his gaze was unfocused but pointed toward the corner, brows furrowed in deep focus. “Even without the orb, he still has an army. He won’t be able to corrupt a ley vein, but he won’t be an easy take-down. He’ll hit Brighton first, use the population to feed his army. His demons would spread to the surrounding farmland. Pemberlin would be next.”

  Catrin settled him with a dead-eyed look. “And if we fail, that will still happen and he could then use us to make it happen.”

  “If it could prevent hundreds from dying, it is worth it.”

  She shook her head. “If we get out, we can send someone ahead to warn them.”

  “It wouldn’t be much warning. Grobitzsnak was planning to attack tomorrow.”

  She bowed her head and rubbed at her temples.

  Doesn’t this demon need to sleep? Suns. And why is he so hell-bent on attacking?

  Who knew? Maybe that’s just what demons did. Or maybe their world was just that much better than the demons’, and he wasn’t wasting his chance.

  Fuck.

  “You really think you could take him?” she asked Yena.

  The fey hesitated. “Yes. Probably.”

  Catrin didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  In the other hall, magic pulsed. Big enough to shake the air like a drum. They all flinched.

  A sound followed, wet and sharp. She heard him shuffle. Heard him heave the bird around.

  He was strong. His magic felt old. Powerful.

  He was also alone. And potentially worn from the battle he’d fought—she doubted Franas had been a pushover.

  She bowed her head and pushed the pads of her fingers into her temple again.

  Gods, I am not actually considering this, am I?

  “This is a terrible idea.” She heaved a sigh and turned to Yena. “How long would it take you to open the gate?”

  “A minute, maybe two. It depends on what state it’s in. The last time, it was very slow.” Yena paused, her eyes flicking up to Catrin. “Are you really considering this?”

  “Like Doneil said, us upper level rnari are a notoriously suicidal lot.” She laced her tone with sarcasm. “Are you sure you can open it?”

  “Yes.”

  That, at least, would give her a connection to Kodanh.

  “Fine. Let’s do this. But I want you on his other side before you attack. If we distract him, can you get around?”

  She had no idea how the fey’s glamour worked—considering the power fluctuating from around the corner, she had her doubts—but he hadn’t seen her earlier, and both Yena and Caracel were nodding.

  “Good. Make sure you’re on the other side. Retreat into the gate if you have to.” She had no idea how she had become the ringleader of everything, but Caracel was nodding.

  “We will.”

  Quiet descended around the corner, but Grobitzsnak was still doing something. She felt it, like scratching at the marrow of her bones. She rolled her shoulders and took a few silent steps away from the group, listening.

  Was he going to move?

  The group fell dead silent as a scraping sound started, and the flutter of butterfly wings tickled the inside of her abdomen. She thought of the one that had been in the kitchen, recklessly tumbling its flight across the stone arch of the oven. The heat in the air as she’d taken it into the safety of her caged fingers and let it go outside.

  She waited, still as ice, holding her breath.

  All at once, the magic heaved and let go with a shock that made the air shudder. Some of it whipped through the floor, snapping at her feet.

  She shot back—too late.

  He’d sensed her.

  The scraping sound stopped. A dreadful, thick quiet fell through the hall. Every inch of her froze.

  “I know you’re there. Come on out. Let me see who has been crawling through my halls.”

  The tone was toying, the words in Janessi. Either he already had a good idea of who might be crawling through his halls, or the touch of magic had given him a little extra insight.

  Fuck.

  “Get that gate open. I’m going to need it. When we start fighting, try to get around us. Don’t hit him with anything until you get on the other side.” She glanced behind Yena.
“Doneil, you and Matteo stay here. Watch our backs for the undead horde.”

  She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm the shake of her throat, and swallowed back a lump of fear. Her heart was pounding. “Nales, with me. We’re the distraction.”

  The prince nodded, drew his sword. “He likes to play with his food.”

  “Good.” She grunted, drawing her own blades. “Because I’d hate to have him wipe the floor with me before the gate is open.”

  Her entire body shook.

  Bright tits, this is a bad idea.

  Before she could think better of it, she rolled her shoulders, whispered a quick prayer, and strode boldly into sight.

  Grobitzsnak’s stare hit her like a brick wall. She stiffened as the air seemed to thicken around her, flashing back to the beat of his power in the forest. He was more at home here in his castle of stone. The very walls seemed to hum and shift around him.

  It took everything she had not to balk. Instead, she held her shoulders back and met his stare, direct and unflinching, her face a mask of steel.

  “You,” he said. “The rnari warrior.”

  His voice was bemused, but an uptick of surprise quilted its edge.

  He hadn’t expected her. Interesting. Though she did not like the way his tone had turned thoughtful at the end. He’d said her title like weighing a measurement.

  She took a smooth, calm breath and flicked her gaze over him, letting her lip curl. Slowly, she leaned her weight onto her right hip. A relaxed gesture.

  “Yes,” she said. “Me.”

  Nales stepped up two paces to her right. The demon’s gaze flickered his way, lingering. The ghost of a smile touched his lips.

  No. She definitely did not like this. Any of this.

  What in the ten hells are we doing?

  The demon shifted. Slowly, deliberately, he dropped down from where he’d been standing on top of the bird. Magic raced through the air. She tensed as some of it hit her, but it was only a feeling spell. Latent, testing. Like the flicker of a snake’s tongue. Each step he took felt like a hammer.

  She clenched her grip tight on her blades, then relaxed it, watching him.