Fallen Blade 04 - Blade Reforged (32 page)

That’s when a mad idea occurred to me, an insane little plan dropping into my mind
all in one piece, though I don’t know where it came from. Perhaps the ghost of the
goddess had whispered inspiration in my ear. Perhaps my newfound desire to live was
pushing me into new ways of thinking. Or, perhaps it was simply the glimmer of reflected
moonlight dancing along the raw steel where Nuriko had shaved the oris-treated darker
layer off my sword. Whatever, it was mad and simple, possible only because Triss was
already playing the second skin for me as he would for any finicky bit of magic.

Even as I thought about how to implement it, I had already begun. Reaching deep into
the well of my soul I drew up more of my life force than I had ever expended on a
single spell before. Holding the image of what I wanted in my mind, I cried out an
ancient word of power; one I normally avoided at all costs. As I spoke the word I
channeled all of the nima I had drawn from my soul’s well and sent it roaring down
the lengths of my swords. They exploded in light. Pure, brilliant, white light, like
the sun.

It tore at the shadow stuff coating my palms, and deep stabbing pain spilled through
my link to Triss as every shred of him that faced the light burned with agony. Thiussus,
who had been gloating over my shoulder, screamed and collapsed down into Nuriko’s
shadow. She grunted in turn as his pain washed back through her. But I wasn’t done
yet. Thrusting one of my bright blades straight through Thiussus, I drove it deep
into the roof and one of the underlying beams beneath with all the strength in my
body.

“Kill you!” Nuriko shouted, leaping toward me. And, I had no doubt that she still
could.

Which was why I had already jumped to the side myself,
dropping back down into the space between the barracks and the outer wall. I had judged
my positioning properly and, as I fell past the cage of shadows that held Fei’s familiar,
I sliced it in half. Neither light nor steel could harm the little air spirit, but
shadow bars shattered when they encountered their opposite element, freeing Scheroc.
Even as my feet touched the ground, I pivoted and began to run, knowing that Nuriko
must first free Thiussus from my spike of light before she could follow. As I ran
I sheathed my remaining sword and released Triss.

I didn’t know how long it would take Nuriko to come after me, having only seen the
technique I’d just attempted once before, and that, in very different circumstances.
The stakes that had pinned Kaman’s shadow to the ground in front of the cross they’d
hung him on had likewise been charged with pure light—both a gall and a trap for his
Shade. I had no idea what it might have taken to loose those stakes, for I had given
Kaman a different sort of freedom in the shape of the death he craved.

I had taken perhaps ten steps when I heard Devin’s voice call out from behind me,
“Which way did he go?”

“He’s mine,” snarled Nuriko. “Just as soon as Thiussus can move.”

“I’ve got this,” Devin yelled back and I could hear that he was running my way. I
didn’t know what he was up to, but I didn’t dare hang around to find out.

Bring me up to date,
Triss sent groggily, distracting me from Nuriko’s angry response to Devin.
That
was
Devin, right?
he asked, reminding me that his sleeping state meant he’d missed out on the entire
fight.
Also, why do I feel like somebody dipped me in pitch and tried to use me for a torch?

Sorry, the torch thing was me. And, yes, Devin. No time for more. Right now we need
to run and I need a shroud.

All rig—Fire and sun! What the fuck is that on your back!

My remaining sword, and you’re going to have to cover it if we’re to have any chance
of living out the night.

Fire and sun. Fireandsun. Fireandsun! Ow!
And then I was shrouded again.

Which was good, as I had apparently reached the edge of whatever cordon the Kitsune
had established with Thauvik. There were Crown Guards everywhere, as well as the Elite
with their stone dogs scattered amongst them. I aimed for a gap where there were no
Elite, but otherwise didn’t slow down. This was a race, and it was win or die. Somehow
I managed not to collide with anyone in that angry ring, and passed out the other
side still running.

Did I mention the part about this hurting?
Triss demanded.

Yes. I’m aware and very sorry, but you need to hang on at least till we’re past the
gate.

The gate? The main gate?

Shortest line from here to the river, and if we don’t make the river, we die.

Good thing you’re back in top form again then. One more question?

Make it quick.

Why is your sword burning a hole in my hide?

Later, but the other guy looks worse.

Oh, good.
He let out a sort of mental whimper.
I hope this isn’t going to become a habit.

I doubt it. I got burned, too, and I
hate
hurting you. For what it’s worth, the light should probably start fading soon.
Which was a damned good reason to run faster.

But I didn’t actually increase my pace, I was already going as fast as I dared if
I wanted to have anything left for swimming. When we got to the gate, I grabbed the
portcullis chain and blasted the brake loose. As the great spiked portcullis dropped
across the passage, I rode the chain to the top of the wall above. From there, two
steps and a hop put me on the outer wall.

Wings!
I sent as I leaped into space.

Crazy man,
replied Triss, but he shifted shape and density, spinning panels of shadow out from
my arms like great sails. He let out a sighing
better
as he moved away from the
agony of light leaking out along the seams of my right sheath.

I felt his move away from that source of pain as a sort of deep release, though the
underlying aches of his injuries continued to echo along the link that bound us. I
had hurt him, badly, and I hated myself for it.

Together, we wafted down toward the river. It was lovely and would have been lovelier
if I’d dared let us sail-jump the whole way. But the combination of a sword-shaped
magic lantern on my back and no shroud made us all too visible. The first arrow had
already zinged harmlessly through my right shadow sail by the time I felt we’d gotten
low enough.

Drop me.

You’re the boss. Insane, but still the boss.

My wings vanished and we dropped, though not before a second arrow dug a burning crease
along my left side just below the armpit. We landed with a splash in the topmost tier
of a huge fountain that Thauvik’s great-great-grandmother had built to commemorate
some victory over Kadesh. I had a grumpy, swearing skin of darkness in place by the
time I dropped to the next tier, and a full shroud for my third splashdown.

That was good, because Crown Guards were converging from fucking everywhere by then.
I’d just slipped past the first couple when I heard Devin’s voice cry out from behind
me, “Aral!”

“Fuck you!” I yelled over my shoulder.

Then I hopped over the spear of a smarter than average guard who was searching for
me like a blind man with his cane, and started running. Again, I could feel Triss’s
pain at covering my lighted blade pouring through the bond between our souls. It galled
me like an iron spike driven into my shoulder. I was slower, too, much slower, and
had begun to develop a stitch in my side. It was only then, after that first wild
burst of energy that always came with a chase had faded, that I realized my mistake.

I’d been pacing myself like a runner in his second mile,
not a sorcerer whose injured familiar was actively fighting against his opposite element.
Triss’s draw on the well of my soul was as much of a drain as a freely bleeding wound
would have been. My knees started to go spongy about then, and I had to slow even
more or risk a fall. That’s when Devin caught up to me, though I didn’t know he was
there until he’d put one arm around my waist, taking some of my weight.

He whispered harshly as he dragged my left arm over his shoulder, “Keep moving, you
fool. She could be on her way already and the river’s our only chance of giving her
the slip.”

I wanted to argue, but didn’t dare. I just let Devin take more of my weight and kept
on going in what had become a half run. If Triss had any thoughts on the arrangement,
he kept them to himself in favor of the mental equivalent of continuous sub-verbal
swearing. At the end of another two blocks, we all more or less fell off the bridge
together, landing with a huge and inelegant splash.

Before I could figure out how you went about swimming when you felt like I did then,
Devin had hooked his arm across my throat and started quietly dragging me backward
through the water. He kicked more than he stroked, minimizing both sound and ripples.
Triss shifted up away from my now submerged sword to form something of a half shroud
over the bits of me that remained above water. I could feel his relief at leaving
the light behind again.

“You have a plan?” I asked Devin after a couple of seconds. Or, I intended to anyway.
It came out more like, “Youvaplun?”

“Hush,” Devin said very quietly. “Boat, just ahead.”

A narrow sampan, painted a dull black, was whispering along the water toward us—obviously
a smuggling boat. Devin rocked back in the water and flicked his free hand, dropping
the knife from his wrist sheath into his palm. As the boat came closer, Devin snapped
his arm, sending the knife into the left eye of the smuggler at the back. He slumped
forward over the vessel’s skulling oar, lifting it out of the water.

When the smuggler’s companion turned to see what had become of his rower, Devin pointed
his palm at the man’s back and spoke a word of opening. It was answered with a brief
flare of purple spell-light as the smuggler’s back opened like a door. He fell into
the water about a half a beat behind most of his organs. Nasty, but effective, like
all of Devin’s best work. He dragged me over to the boat, which had already started
to turn in the current. I caught hold of the low gunwale and hung there, trying to
work up the strength to pull myself into the boat.

“Gods but I wish I could just let you drown,” Devin said as he slipped aboard.

Then he reached down and caught my arm to help me in. I rolled onto my back in the
bow while Devin went aft, where he recovered his knife and pushed the second smuggler
into the river. Then he took up the scull, finished the turn the sampan had begun
on its own, and began to stroke us rapidly downriver.

We had to dodge two customs boats along the way, but the combination of the light-drinking
paint of the smuggling boat and our shrouds got us through all right. Devin didn’t
say another word until after we’d passed under the final bridge, and the river started
widening out into the mouth of the bay. Triss was equally silent, though I could feel
that was from exhaustion as opposed to the seething anger that was practically pouring
off Devin.

“Okay,” Devin finally said, “if the bitch can hear us out here we’re both dead anyway,
so we might as well talk.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” I husked in not at all the demanding tone I’d intended.

“Hang on a beat,” Triss said, sounding very nearly as wrung out as I felt. “Let’s
see.” He slipped out from beneath me, where the moon had put him, and slid under the
low curved roof that provided the sampan with a tiny cabin at its midsection. “Thought
so.”

He returned with a dark bottle that gurgled invitingly as he handed it to me. “‘Spirits
for the drained spirit.’” He quoted the old saying about magic and booze.

I tilted the bottle this way and that, listening to the alcohol move back and forth.
“I…” Fuck but I
needed
a drink, and this one would be medicinal, not a drunk getting his drink on. Who could
argue with that?

I dropped the bottle into the bottom of the boat and said quietly, “No, Triss, I really
can’t.”

The light shifted and I realized Devin was standing above me, though I hadn’t heard
him move. He was looking past me to the dragon perched on the gunwale beside me. “Does
that rot really work, Triss? I’ve heard the saying a few times since the fall of the
temple, but it seemed ridiculous in the face of our priests’ teachings.”

“It works,” said Triss.

“Good enough for me.” Devin knelt to pick up the bottle, and pulled the cork.

Before I had a chance to figure out what he intended, Devin pressed the bottle to
my lips and tilted it high. I got a huge mouthful of some incredibly strong anise
flavored liquor, and swallowed it down—I couldn’t help myself. Sweet liquid fire poured
down my throat and into my belly where it vaporized as my nima-starved soul sucked
away the vital essence of the liquor. Seemingly of its own accord, my hand reached
up and caught the neck of the bottle. I drank off maybe a third of it in huge gasping
gulps before I needed to pull it away from my lips to breathe.

I took another long pull, hating myself for needing it. Then, with an effort of will
that I could only compare to the effort of building a greatspell, I sat up and threw
the bottle out into the bay. I hadn’t done anything that felt quite so hard since
the day I’d dropped my last few efik beans into the river. The exertion left me shaking
and sweating as I fell back against the bow of the boat.

“Is that enough?” Devin asked. “Or will you need more? It’s a smuggling boat, I’m
sure there’s lots.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Is that a yes? Or a no? I don’t speak drunk. I’d better just get you another bottle.”
He ducked into the cabin in the waist of the boat.

Triss.

Yes?
I could feel his pain and anger and worry burning down the link between us.

Break them all,
I sent. Devin reappeared with another bottle, pulling the cork as he turned toward
me.
Start with that one.