Duskfall (10 page)

“What’s a lady like yourself doing in a tavern rough as this?” The man raised his mug to the room.

He didn’t call me an elf
, Winter thought, with the barest hint of hope.
That’s something.
He was the first human in the city who hadn’t used the derogatory term.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” Winter said. “A human. About your age. Average height. Brown hair. Have you seen him?”

“Friend of yours?” The man took a long gulp from the mug of ale in his hand. “What manner of friend is he, if you don’t mind me asking?” The man examined her, his eyes roving up and down. “Feel free to sit, my dear. I won’t bite; I’m only human, after all.”

Winter sat across from the man. She breathed deeply. This man seemed well-mannered enough. Perhaps she had chosen the right person, after all.

“Please,” Winter said, looking the man in the eye, “what about my friend? Have you seen anyone like that? His name is Knot.”

“You have dark hair,” the man muttered. His eyes still wandered her body. “Not something you see often in tiellans, not in this part of the world. You from around here?”

“Born here,” Winter said, a creeping sensation of discomfort beginning in her gut. “About my friend…”

The man gulped more ale. Some of it ran down his chin. “Your friend, of course.” The man shrugged. “Afraid I haven’t seen him, miss.”

The disappointment was sharper than Winter had expected. The feeling must have shown on her face.

“Now, now,” the man said, grinning. “Just because I haven’t seen him anywhere, don’t mean I can’t help you out a bit.”

Winter moved forward to the edge of her seat. “If you could, I would be grateful.”

The man slid around the table, wooden chair scraping against the floor, so he was sitting next to her. “I may not have seen your friend, miss,” he said, “but
I
can be your friend, if you like.”

Then the man’s hand was on her thigh. Winter looked down. The hand was hairy, and heavy on her leg.

“How much for a night?” he asked.

Winter looked up, not comprehending. Then the man’s hand rubbed up her thigh, higher. Before Winter knew what she was doing, her hand shot out and slapped the man on the face.

His head snapped away with the blow, and slowly he turned back to her. Winter hadn’t meant to hit him that hard. She hadn’t meant to hit him at all.

She looked around frantically. The room was suddenly silent. Panic rose within her. She had just hit a human.

“That was unkind, miss,” the man said. His jovial tone was gone, replaced by something different. Darker. He stood. He was much larger than Winter had realized, towering over her.

“I would have paid you,” he said. “I don’t know what you have against that. The way I see it, a young elf could always use some coin. Now I’ll just take what I want for free.” He gripped her arm roughly, lifting her out of her chair.

Then Lian was there.

“Let her go,” Lian said. He sounded brave, but his eyes were wide as he looked up at the man.

The man didn’t say anything. His fist lashed out. Lian crumpled to the floor.

Winter cried out, but Lian didn’t respond. The blow must have knocked him out cold.

“Damn elves,” the man muttered. Then he began dragging Winter to the doorway.

Winter looked around frantically. The other tiellans in the common room stared at them, but no one stood or said anything. The humans in the corner sniggered.

In that moment, Winter knew she was alone.

Panic raged inside of her, now more than ever, but she pushed it deep down inside her. She looked at the man as he dragged her out into the cold. His eyes were dull.

“Let go of me.” She did her best to keep her voice calm.

The man didn’t respond.

“Please.”

The man said nothing. She tried to yank free. It was like struggling against an iron shackle. The man may have been drunk, but he was strong.

“Why are you doing this?” Winter tried to yank away again, but it was useless. Her breath grew labored, barely misting in the cold.

“Why would I not do this?” the man said, although it didn’t feel like he was addressing her. He seemed to be muttering to himself. “You’re an elf,” he said. As if it explained everything.

Winter looked around for help, but the streets were empty. This man would rape her, leave her for dead. Who knew whether Lian was all right? If a common room full of tiellans wouldn’t help her, Winter didn’t know who would.

That didn’t stop her from screaming. The man struck her.

“Don’t do that,” he said. He turned into an alleyway, pulling her along. “I would have taken you to a nice room,” he said. “I would have treated you well. Too late now. You don’t deserve it.” He looked down at her. “I suppose you never did.”

Then he thrust Winter up against a stone wall, cold against her back even through layers of clothing. Winter struggled to breathe, her chest getting tighter.

“Please—” she begged, but the man leaned in and forced his mouth on hers. She struggled, squirming between the wall and the man’s massive frame, but he held her too tightly. His tongue shoved past her lips; she tasted ale and whiskey. She tried to scream, but her voice was muffled. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe at all. She beat the man with her fists, tried to kick him, to knee him in the groin, even as she struggled to breathe. She fought with all her strength, flailing wildly. Her head began to ache, she felt her face getting warm, but she fought.

It didn’t matter. The man didn’t stop. His tongue invaded her mouth again, but this time Winter bit down hard.

The man growled, and punched her in the stomach. Winter unclenched her jaw and the man pulled away as she doubled over, collapsing in the snow.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” the man said, spitting blood into the snow. Winter couldn’t look up. Her gut hurt too much. She tried to breathe, but could only choke on the pain. She felt him kick her the first time, and felt it less the second. She wasn’t sure if he continued after that. He was talking to her, growling, really, but she couldn’t focus on what he was saying.

The snow was inviting beneath her, soft and cold.

I’m going to die here
, she thought.
I’m going to die here, and it’s my own fault
. She had dragged Lian to Cineste for nothing. Knot would certainly never know. No one would. In the morning she would be nothing more than another tiellan body. No one would care.

Perhaps I’ll see my father
.

The man was on top of her. Winter felt his weight. She let herself go, hoping she wouldn’t be present for whatever came next.

But the man didn’t move. He just lay on top of her, the entire weight of him. Winter began to struggle, trying to work her way out from underneath him, but then the man rolled away.

Winter gasped. She cringed, covering her face, expecting the worst.

“Are you all right?”

Winter opened her eyes. She squinted in the darkness. It wasn’t the finely dressed man who stood over her.

“Knot?”

“Are you all right?” the figure asked again. “Can you stand?”

Winter looked around. The finely dressed man lay on the ground beside her. Beneath him, the snow was red.

“Knot?” Winter asked again. Then, she felt herself slipping, and collapsed back into the snow.

“I’
D ASK IF YOU
were frightened of monsters under the bed, but if you’re afraid of anything that small then there’s not much I can do for you.”

Knot sat up. He and Astrid were in the small camp they’d made, a few days’ travel outside Cineste. Astrid sat near the fire, partially illuminated by the flames.

Knot breathed heavily. He had dreamt of creeping through a castle at night, and murdering a lord and his lady. Their young daughter had come into their room just as Knot killed them. An innocent child. In his dream, Knot hadn’t hesitated.

Not a dream, Knot knew. Not quite a nightmare, either, but something closer to a memory.

“I was teasing,” the girl muttered. Knot couldn’t look at her. The girl he had murdered in his dream looked too much like this
thing
that now accompanied him.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Astrid asked.

“No,” Knot croaked. His throat was dry.

“Have it your way,” Astrid said, shrugging.

Knot coughed, reaching for his cloak. Life on the road was cold; the fire and heavy blankets made a difference, but he still felt it. It never quite left him.

“How long before dawn?” he asked.

“Not long.” She stirred the embers of the fire with a branch.

“We should move on. Get an early start.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Knot frowned as he gathered his belongings. His pack, his boots, his knife, and a staff he’d pilfered from the inn common room. Meager supplies, but enough. He traveled light. The staff, made of blackbark wood, was a lucky find. Knot felt somewhat guilty for stealing it, but blackbark was strong, almost as strong as steel, and lighter. The staff would make an effective weapon.

Knot looked at the vampire. Whenever he asked why she was accompanying him, she just made a joke. Damn frustrating. But leaving the city, he’d been glad of her. His pursuers tracked a lone man, not a father and daughter.

But now, Knot started to wonder whether the idea had been that good after all.

Astrid stood, donning the large, ragged black cloak that had been folded neatly beside her. Beneath she wore a simple dark green dress and wool stockings. Knot was surprised the girl wasn’t freezing to death. Any normal person would be.

It was easier than he liked to think of her as a little girl. She seemed so… normal. Though the way she spoke made him wonder how old she really was. Like a grown woman in a child’s body.

Ain’t exactly normal
.

He sighed, tightening his leather boots. “What’d you say the next city was?” he asked. Knot had only told Astrid he was traveling as far as Navone. He hoped to escape the girl’s company before he crossed into Roden.

Astrid grunted as she tightened the straps on the small leather pack she carried. “Brynne. Then we turn north, following the Tiellan Road, to Navone. The border city.”

“Why can’t we cut north-west and go straight to Navone?”

“No roads. And you might fancy trekking over the Sorensan ice fields in the middle of winter, but I don’t. They say some of the crevices cut all the way into Oblivion itself.”

Knot couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted, if only to shove Astrid into one of them.

“Have to go through Brynne to get to Navone. Not much leeway this time of year.”

Knot nodded. He could picture Navone clearly in his mind. Brynne sounded familiar, but brought nothing specific.
Got to be a pattern, a connection I’m missing.
Sometimes words and locations resonated with him, sometimes they didn’t. And sometimes, like Roden, they pulled him ever closer. If Knot didn’t know any better, he’d say he had no choice but to make his way there. He needed to figure out why.

The Tiellan Road was well known. During the great purges in Roden decades ago, Roden expelled its remaining tiellan population, forcing them to walk through the Sorensan Pass in the middle of a harsh winter. Navone refused to let such a large group through the Blood Gate, wary of some ploy from Roden. Trapped in the Sorensan Pass, hundreds of tiellans perished. When Navone finally realized the tiellans were harmless, they let the battered, beaten people pass through their gates and onward along the southern road, which then became known as the Tiellan Road.

Knot remembered Khalic history just fine, apparently. His own was still a mystery.

“Ready?” he asked, looking at Astrid. She’d swept a layer of snow over the remaining coals, and was securing her pack.

“I’ve been ready,” she said, grinning. “It’s you we’re waiting on.”

Knot shook his head and trudged towards the road.

* * *

They walked along the Sunset Road as dawn broke around them, heading west. Huge snow drifts, some three rods deep, lay against the rocks that rose either side of them. A few pine groves, lonely in the vast whiteness, dotted the countryside. Knot observed what he thought might be a
rihnemin
rising out of the snow, but he could not be sure. The great stone monuments were some of the only remains of the ancient tiellan kingdoms. Now nothing more than ruins, they were almost indistinguishable from boulders.

“All right, darlin’. You going to tell me why you’re still around, or is that too much to hope for this morning?”

Astrid exhaled. Knot noticed her breath didn’t mist in the cold, the way his did.

“All right,” she said slowly. “I’ll tell you.”

Knot looked at Astrid in surprise.

Her eyes were downcast. “I don’t know exactly how to explain it, but I feel a connection with you.”

“A connection?” Knot frowned.

“Something I haven’t felt in a long time. As if I already
know
you.”

Knot wondered what in Oblivion the girl was talking about. And yet, at the same time, he wondered if there was truth to it. Knot
did
feel something for the girl. Vexation, mostly, but something else, too. A shadow of something forgotten.

Astrid shook her head. “I know it’s stupid. I know it’s unconventional. But…” she looked up at him, and Knot felt her hand touch his own, “I hope that someday, we can be more.”

Knot pulled his hand away. “What in Oblivion…”

Astrid burst out laughing.

Of course
. Knot didn’t respond. Why he’d hoped for a serious answer, he didn’t know.

“Canta rising, you need to laugh more,” Astrid said, still giggling.

Knot said nothing. He looked back the way they had come, as he did every so often, just to be safe.

“Look, I have my own reasons for staying. You may or may not find them out as we go,” she said.

This time Knot did laugh, short and abrupt. “That’s it?” he asked. “You expect me to travel in the company of a vampire, and the only explanation you’ll give me is that ‘you have reasons of your own’?”

“That’s it.” Astrid smiled. “At least for now. It’s not like you can get rid of me.”