Duskfall (43 page)

Astrid moved faster, closing in on the shore and running along the bank. Timing would be key; she didn’t want to end up in the river. She hated swimming.

With a burst of speed, she rushed ahead of the boat and jumped.

She soared through the air, over the water, in front of the boat. The boat caught up below her, and she slammed into the back of the vessel, barely grasping the boat’s rail in time to stop herself from tumbling into the river. Her feet splashed into the water beneath her. It was cold, probably freezing, but it didn’t bother her as much as it once would have. Astrid was a creature of the cold. She’d long since grown used to it. She pulled herself up and over the railing, her feet landing softly on the deck.

One of the green-robes stood before her, surprise etched on his face. The man didn’t scream, which Astrid found odd—she certainly gave him enough time to do so, though at this point, it didn’t much matter whether he did or not.

Astrid lunged. Her claws cut through him easily, and his head spun around almost full circle.

Whatever else they were, these men definitely were mortal.

She looked around but there was no one else in sight. The man hadn’t given her away. Astrid looked down at the corpse, the lifeless, lacerated face staring blankly into nothing. Blood still ebbed slowly from his wounds; she could smell it, on the air and on his skin and in his veins.

And then Astrid was on top of the man, burying her fangs in his neck. The blood was bitter and sweet all at once. The most delicious—and the most horrible—taste Astrid could imagine.

Footsteps on the wooden deck. Soft and measured, but Astrid heard them. She raised her head. These men were different. She wouldn’t be surprised if one could just sneak up on her and—

Astrid heard the blow before she felt it, the staff shattering against the back of her head. It stung, might even bruise, but obviously the green-robes hadn’t realized what they were up against, yet. A blow like that would have knocked anyone else unconscious, maybe killed them.

To Astrid, it was a tap on the shoulder.

She whirled on her attacker, a low growl beginning deep in her chest. The green-robe stared at her, eyes wide. Three more appeared.

She could only wonder how she appeared to them. Her claws and fangs, her glowing eyes, her entire face covered in blood, a stream of it running from her mouth, down her neck, onto her clothes. They would dismiss her childlike form quickly.

Astrid felt a moment of uncertainty. Had all four of them found her together? Armed, and grouped? Unlikely, and yet here they were. Had the green-robe she’d killed and fed from managed to send some kind of signal? Perhaps someone had been watching.

Unlikely, but it was the only answer Astrid could think of as she charged. She hadn’t finished feeding; she still wasn’t satisfied.

That only made her bloodlust stronger.

The green-robes were well trained, Astrid gave them that. Surely they knew what she was by now. She couldn’t imagine the Rodenese viewed vampires differently from any other part of the Sfaera. Cursed of the cursed, damned of the damned. Daemons.

Astrid went for the one who’d struck her first, her clawed hand entering his chest and exploding out the other side. She dodged attacks from the others quickly and easily, springing up against the railing, from the railing to the wall, and from the wall into the air directly behind the three remaining men before they could turn around.

Astrid shattered one man’s spine with a blow to his back, and screamed in pleasure. She dodged another swinging staff and rammed the attacker into the wall of a cabin. Astrid heard him gasp quietly, that small expulsion of air, and between that and his crunching bones she knew he was gone.

More footsteps, too many for the remaining green-robe to make on his own. She turned and saw two more arriving, one wielding another staff, the other a longsword.

Already?
Their response time seemed inhuman.

She spun, her claws lashing in an arc. One halted just within her reach. A small red line appeared at his throat, growing slowly wider. Blood jetted into the night. The other rushed at her, staff swinging, but Astrid knocked it aside and slid her claws into his ribs, heaving him over the railing and into the freezing water.

Astrid turned, grinning, just as the sword swung down on her. Her hand shot up and she caught the blade with a clang, the sound of metal on stone, inches from her face. Before the green-robe could react, Astrid whipped his weapon from his hands. She turned it on its owner, leaping up to his eye-level, and swung. The man’s head fell with a thud to the deck, his body close behind.

Astrid looked down at the bodies around her. Seven. Now to find Winter. After that, they needed to wait for Knot and the others.

Assuming Knot survived
. She knew he’d been thrown into the river. She had wanted to go in after him, but she knew what he would have wanted her to do instead. Or, at least, that’s what she told herself. Other things had driven her away. She needed to be sure Knot wasn’t around when she made contact this time. After she found Winter, Astrid would have to try to communicate again. She couldn’t risk her mistress’s wrath.

But first
, she thought, looking at the carnage around her, feeling the grinding pain in her belly,
I need to finish what I started
.

* * *

Astrid found Winter in the cabin with the boatman, already free of her bonds and gag. The old man was steering the boat, his face covered in sweat, eyes darting around wildly. He mumbled incoherently as Astrid walked in. She had cleaned herself up as best she could, and tried to keep her eyes away from him.

“I was doing fine on my own. Would’ve been out of here in no time.” Winter nodded to the boatman, smiling. “He was about to help me escape.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow. “Not shy with the sarcasm, are you?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Astrid smirked. “Not sure how far you’d have gotten if I hadn’t provided a nice distraction and killed all your captors. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Winter’s smile faded, and she lowered her head. “It is good to see you alive.”

“Depends on your definition,” Astrid mumbled. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine. What about Knot and the others?”

“Knot was thrown into the river, and Lian knocked unconscious.” Astrid hesitated. Best not to worry the woman, not until they knew for sure. “Should be fine, though. Seems you were the one the green-robes were after.” She wondered if Winter knew why.

If she did, she didn’t show it. “Where are they? Will they be able to find us?”

Astrid sighed. This girl had issues. Astrid gave her credit for attempting to escape, but Winter was obviously reckless, and Astrid could guess why. The girl needed to come clean, although it would have to be her own choice.

“They’ll catch up soon enough,” was all Astrid said.

The boatman was gibbering now, looking back and forth from Winter to Astrid. Astrid cocked her head in the man’s direction.

“What’s with this one?”

“Not sure,” Winter said. “When he heard the fighting he just started mumbling.”

The man’s muttering grew more frantic. Astrid made out the words “Izet,” “traveling,” and what sounded like “religion,” but she couldn’t be sure. The man’s accent was thick, and he spoke faster than she could keep up with.

“Tell him to get us to shore,” Astrid said. “The western shore. We’ll wait for the others.”

Winter nodded and turned to the boatman. Astrid stepped out onto the deck. Hopefully the man would calm down if she was out of the picture. She watched the dark water flowing past. She and the river had some things in common, both flowing down preordained paths to a preordained destination.

She heard Winter’s footsteps behind her, and turned.

“Thank you,” Winter said. “I’d gotten that man to help me out of my bonds, but I don’t know what I would have done from there.”

The girl appeared to bloody mean it.

“Welcome,” Astrid muttered.

The boat rocked against the shore with a soft bump. It was not an ideal spot—they would have to jump over the railing and land in the bushes below—but it would do. In his state the boatman could hardly do better than this.

“Let’s go,” Astrid said.

“We could take the boat,” Winter said, her hand on the rail. “We could wait for the others, and take the boat the rest of the way to Izet.”

Astrid shook her head. “A riverboat is too confining. There might be other robed men waiting for their companions along the way—we’re better off leaving the river altogether, once the others catch up to us.”

Winter nodded, patting the rail. “You’re right. How do we get off?” Winter asked.

“Do you have any gear?”

Winter held up a pack.

“Like this,” Astrid said, and lifted Winter gently and tossed her over the side. The girl hit the bank and tumbled. She’d be fine. She was tough.

Astrid ran back to the cabin. The man looked at her in horror, his mouth working, but no sound escaped.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t think you deserve this, but I can’t have you talking. Canta save you.”

She slit the man’s throat, and he fell gurgling to the deck. She walked back onto the deck and leaped over the side, landing softly in the undergrowth.

“Winter?” she whispered.

“I’m here.”

“Let’s go,” Astrid said. “We need to find better ground to make camp.”

“And then what?”

“We wait.”

W
INTER RELEASED THE MAKESHIFT
sling as it passed its zenith, and the small rock flew into the bark of a distant tree, just wide of a chattering squirrel. The animal leapt away in a shower of bark.

“You missed,” Astrid said.

Winter frowned. “I didn’t.” She walked towards where the squirrel had flown into the undergrowth.

“Yes you did.”

Winter had awoken that morning to two things: Astrid standing over her, and her own rumbling stomach. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. The whole day of travel on the shoulders of the robed men had left her sore and hungry.

Astrid had offered to catch something for them to eat, but Winter had declined, namely because she didn’t relish eating anything that had been caught by Astrid. But she also wanted to do something with her own hands. And, if she could get away from Astrid long enough to take
faltira
, that was only a plus.

Winter had been well on her way to escaping before Astrid showed up; if she could have jumped in the river, the men wouldn’t have gone in after her. She wasn’t sure what she would have done once she was
in
the river… but it would have worked. That’s all there was to it. And she had taken a crystal last night to make sure her power still worked. She had moved only small things, rocks and dead twigs—she didn’t want to make Astrid any more suspicious than she already was. But Winter had slept easily that night, content in the fact that, while her powers hadn’t worked the previous morning, they
were
working now.

That didn’t stop her, of course, from wanting to make sure they
still
worked. She wanted to be sure.

You only have three left
, she told herself.
You should ration them
. She would have to find more when they reached the next city. Either way, Winter was confident. She could handle herself without frost, that much was obvious. She just needed to keep her supply well padded, and everything would be fine.

Winter poked around in the foliage, finally finding what she was looking for. She raised the squirrel up triumphantly.

“Aiming for a spot near them on the tree stuns them, and doesn’t damage what little meat they have. Then you find them,” Winter twisted sharply, breaking the squirrel’s neck, “and kill them. Now, we have breakfast.”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “Nothing like starting my day with burnt squirrel.”

Winter didn’t bother responding. Honestly, she didn’t care what Astrid preferred to start her day with.

Gray clouds blanketed the sky, but Astrid wore her cloak nonetheless. The large gray hood dwarfed her.
She’s so small
, Winter thought. Last night, the girl had been terrifying. But now, looking at her, Winter could almost believe she wasn’t. Winter just saw a little girl. A little girl who spoke more than she should, but a little girl all the same.

Winter wondered whether Astrid felt guilty for killing the men last night. What she had done in Navone still harrowed her. Did Astrid feel the same remorse?

Astrid killed to save you. You killed for no reason at all
.

I killed to save Knot
, Winter thought. But she knew it wasn’t entirely true. She had killed innocent people along with Goddessguards and Sons of Canta.

“You need to get out of that head of yours,” Astrid said.

“What do you mean?”

“Talk it out with someone, whatever it is. Get it into the light. Light kills daemons; I know that better than anyone. But if you keep them in darkness… they thrive.”

Winter’s breathing grew heavy. Did Astrid know about
faltira
? Did the girl know about her abilities? What else could the girl be referring to?

“Some things are best left hidden.”

“Until they’re revealed, and they always are. You think you’re better off keeping secrets; you think you’re better off not hurting those around you. You’re wrong. Secrets come out one way or another.”

They walked back to their camp in silence.

“Hope you didn’t let the fire die,” Winter said, changing the subject. “Otherwise you can find your own breakfast.”

Astrid snorted. “The fire’s fine. And don’t worry, you can eat all the breakfast you want. I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.”

Winter wasn’t fond of the way the girl said “breakfast.” She shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

Their camp was little more than a fire and some impressions in the pine needles. Gear was sparse, other than what Astrid had taken with her on her pursuit and the pack that Winter had salvaged. They had decided not to light a fire until this morning. No point in attracting unwanted attention.