Firemoon (27 page)

Katja waited with her defences up, and he stood with the glaive at the ready. He only had to take a few rushed steps to be able to strike at her.

He was waiting for the next attack, just like she was.

They stared at each other, she and this enemy she had now met nine times. The hatred in his eyes was reflected in Katja’s soul with near equal force. She had seen him participate in two atrocities, and he might very well have more in his past.

“Aren’t you going to run, like usual?” she asked tauntingly to rile him up, but the man seemed to have gained control of himself after almost getting hit.

“No,” he said through clenched teeth.

No indeed. Now this would be finished, once and for all. Here, by this burning forest of thorns.

Katja feinted again, but instead of reacting to it directly Vajan hooked his glaive into Katja’s discarded cloak and threw the burning garment at her.

As the attack had been a feint, dodging the cloak was easy, and Katja slashed as she had intended to. Vajan parried with the shaft and Katja pushed up close to him. They struggled ferociously up against one another for a few breaths. Vajan struck at her with both ends of the glaive, and Katja tried to get her sword past it to stab him. Both tried to shove the other one, but both were too good at keeping their balance.

Then Katja drew the moonblade with her left hand and slashed at his side in one quick motion. She couldn’t apply all her strength up close like this, and the man was wearing a thick coat, but she did draw blood and he flinched. She hooked the handle over the shaft, and tried to pull it down a moment so she could stab Vajan in the throat. He headbutted her between the eyes.

Katja was dazed and the moonblade fell from her grasp. Vajan seized the opportunity and charged her like a bull. Katja’s back hit the rocky ground and Vajan raised the glaive for a killing blow. Katja hesitated one instant to seem woozier than she really was, and then surprised him by rolling to the side when the strike came.

The glaive blade struck the ground, and Katja rolled back and grabbed the shaft with her left hand. She thrust at Vajan, but her position was hardly ideal. Vajan took one hand off his weapon, dodged the thrust, and kicked Katja’s torso. She screamed and lost her breath.

Vajan threw himself down on her with his own knife in hand. Katja didn’t manage to put the sword up between them, and he seized her left forearm with his free hand. Then the knife came.

Katja managed to block the thrust with her left arm, and then wrapped her fingers around the blade with an iron grip. She sneered and pushed with all her strength, but Vajan did the same, and he was on top. The knife approached her throat, and Katja wriggled and fought to roll Vajan over like Serdra had taught her. She managed to pull one of her legs out from under him, and flipped them both onto the side.

That evened things out, and gave Katja a chance to sink her teeth into Vajan’s knife-hand. At first he showed no reaction, but Katja clenched her jaw as tightly as she could and tasted blood. Vajan began to grunt and then scream, and Katja kept biting. Once the flesh began to give in he finally lost his grip on the knife and tried to pull his hand free.

Katja finally released the blade and drove her elbow into his face. He replied with a punch that connected with her brow, and she hit him again. She went for her other knife, but Vajan pushed his foot into her belly and shoved her away. He pushed again while she was still on all fours, stepped up behind her and kicked straight up between her legs.

Katja screamed and fell face-down. Vajan drew his sword and raised it. Katja managed to turn around. The pain was paralysing, blinding, but she was engaged in a fight and the reflexes Serdra had seared into her to the point of instinct enabled her to parry.

Vajan struck again with a loud scream, and then a third time.

This couldn’t be allowed to continue and Katja risked thrusting at him before the fourth blow could land. He reacted but she still hit him in the thigh. His leg buckled and the Brotherhood-member staggered a few steps back.

The wound wasn’t mortal and Katja forced herself to sit up. Moving her legs was difficult, but Serdra had punched her there and demanded she continue fighting. And now it was a matter of life and death.

“Guess where I’ll stick you next,” she said in a choked but savage tone as she stood up.

Vajan had supported himself against the edge and managed to stay upright. Then he gnashed his teeth and stepped away from it. Katja walked clumsily too, and couldn’t tell which one of them was more limber at the moment.

“Aren’t your friends coming to help you?” she asked mockingly, and glanced to either side of the forest. “Oh no, that’s right, I butchered them. How silly of me.”

Vajan looked at her with utter hatred.

“Will you sob, like Arvar did?” she added, and took a step in his direction.

She saw the rage explode in his face and the man came at her. He moved fast, making his limp all the more pronounced. She herself was having trouble walking normally and was careful to take slow steps.

Vajan struck with wild force. Katja parried, but her balance suffered. He struck again. Katja parried, countered, and then kicked the wounded thigh. The movement pained her and she almost bowled over, but clearly hurt Vajan even more. The leg buckled and he almost fell down on his knees. He tried to thrust at her, but Katja directed the blade away from herself and drove the crossguard into his face in the same movement.

His cheekbone snapped, the flesh tore, and Vajan was thrown back, the sword flying from his hands. Katja lost her own balance for a moment, and stumbled back.

Vajan lay in a semi-sitting position up against a part of the rocks, unarmed and vulnerable.

Now!

She rushed at him with quick, painful steps. Vajan saw what was coming and sat up. Katja positioned her sword for the thrust that would finally end this.

Vajan stuck his hand into his left sleeve, snatched out a knife, and threw it in a practised motion.

Katja batted the knife to the side with the sword, and took the final two steps. Vajan gaped for a moment. Then she drove the sword into his chest.

All was silent, save for the crackling of the flames, as they both looked at the blade lodged in him. Then she pulled it out and he made a soft hiss. It was over.

“You’ve... killed me,” Vajan said weakly, and stared into her eyes with impotent hate.

Katja let the sword hang by her side. Finally, she began to feel the fatigue.

“Oh, and are you expecting an apology or something?”

Vajan’s laugh was bitter, and ended in a cough. He looked again at his own fatal wound with a strange interest.

“So this... is how it... feels,” he said. Then he looked back at her. “You will... know it yourself some day. After all... it is the only way you can die.”

He managed to squeeze forth a pained, ugly smile.

Katja hesitated a moment.

“True enough,” she then said. “But say, you’ve got something on your neck.”

She raised the sword and then slashed him across the throat, so his head nearly came off. Blood flowed out, and Vajan gurgled as he sank to the side and fell face-down. He was dead.

Katja walked to her moonblade and picked it up with a pained groan. Her body was collecting debts in the form of pain, and everything she had demanded of herself today made itself known. Her face hurt, she felt dizzy, her lungs and heart complained about the strain, the thorns had torn her all over, she had a cut in her palm, hideous pain in her crotch, and something sharp seemed to have struck her back during the struggle. She hadn’t noticed it at the time.

She spotted Vajan’s moonblade, hesitated, and then picked it up as well and stuck it in her belt.

They’ll surely be here soon
, she then thought, and looked into the two directions Peter’s men might come out of.

She staggered out of the depression and gave Vajan one last look. Then she headed for the knolls.

16.

The fire was quite visible from the city, and drew great attention. Some shouted triumphantly that Duke Kjalar had come to their rescue.

Katja didn’t feel like bothering to correct people’s hopes. She just strode directly to Jormundur to report. His reaction was subdued. He was pleased to see her alive, but had presumably hoped that she could finish the job. She understood him just fine.

“Good job with the fire,” he said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Did you see how much damage it caused?”

“No. I did hurry away as fast as I could.”

Jormundur opened his mouth, but Katja interrupted him.

“Still, I’m pretty sure I didn’t wipe them out. We are not as fortunate as that. The next assault is still coming, tonight.”

Jormundur was silent for a few moments.

“Then let them come.”

--------------------

A doctor was dispatched to her room, and Katja lay on her stomach as she stitched her back. Katja waited in silence and stared sideways at the wall as the woman closed the wound.

There had been no time to think things through during the flight, and in between killing Vajan and getting back inside the city she had been far too wound-up. But now she had time.

She had failed. Yes, she had harmed Peter’s human servants. But that just meant that sorcery would have to make up the difference. Tonight the Dragon would go all-out. Now the moment would arrive when he risked burning the city down rather than lose it. And it was because of her.

Katja closed her eyes.

Or could one really speak of fault? Was he just so powerful that she couldn’t be expected to kill him just like that? Had all of this been a drawn-out death struggle?

“I’m almost finished,” the doctor said soothingly. Apparently she had seen Katja squeeze her eyes shut and misinterpreted it. But Katja was indifferent to the needle. She had never feared pain, and Serdra had hardened her even further.

In fact, she simply felt numb. All the tension, expectation and fear that had gone into the assassination had ended in disappointment rather than satisfaction. Killing Vajan had felt good, and perhaps she would later look back on it with more glee, but at the moment it was in no way sufficient.

The doctor cut the silk-thread, and tied off the end.

“You can put your shirt on,” the woman said.

“Later,” Katja said, sat up and held out her left hand.

The woman cut another silk thread from her roll, and began to stitch the cut in her palm.

Katja continued observing the wall. She had wrapped the scarf around her face again, but the doctor was still being treated to a better and more drawn-out look at her than anyone beside Jormundur. Katja would have to keep that in mind if she stayed in the city much longer. There was always something to keep in mind.

Tonight. This would end tonight in steel, blood and fire. Either the city would fall in some sense of the word, or Peter would be defeated. Katja thought of how he had called fire down from the sky. She could think of no way of defending against something like that. It had been during the day, and so surely he would be able to do even worse during the night.

A final battle.

The numbness lifted a bit, and Katja felt something hard and focused take its place, taking ever-firmer root in her soul.

An awesome final battle.

“I am... I am finished,” the doctor said.

Katja looked at the woman and then at her own palm. The stitches were quite neat. She clenched her fist. It hurt, but she wouldn’t notice it in the heat of combat.

The woman looked spooked. Her own eyes probably held considerable fire.

“Thank you,” she said absent-mindedly. The doctor took her things and left hurriedly.

Katja remained behind, with the cold determination and stillness that was taking hold of her. No doubt remained, nor worries about decision-making. The situation was clear as crystal, and so she could be as well.

She lay down and had no trouble falling asleep.

--------------------

She dreamt of combat and sorcery and horses and fire. When Omar woke her up shortly before sunset she was even more focused than she had been.

“The time is coming, lady,” the boy said in a slightly shaky voice.

“Yes,” she said, and looked him in the eyes. She stood up and patted him on the head. “Time to fight.”

She sent Omar away and got dressed.

The castle was busy. Jormundur had given orders for the evening well in advance, but there was no cause not to quadruple-check when so much was at stake. Those who wouldn’t be fighting on the wall due to age, injury or disability would, among other things, be at the ready for city-wide firefighting. Many of those who were wrapping up other duties were on their way to assigned firefighting chiefs.

The hubbub made it relatively easy for her to acquire a hooded cloak and sneak out, to Linda and Brjann’s home.

There were too many people on the streets for anyone to pay her particular attention. The sunlight was running out like sand in an hourglass, and all knew what that meant. The firefighters stood in evenly spaced-out groups, ready with containers of all kinds. She even saw a few being hurriedly constructed.

She felt rather disconnected from all the tension and rush. She imagined herself as a hole in a frozen lake. She knew what lay around the corner and had accepted it. She
looked forward
to it.

Katja was glad to hear footsteps approach after knocking on the door. The couple would probably be taking part in the firefighting, or something else, but she had caught them at home.

Linda’s face lit up at seeing her, but she took care not to say anything and just let her in quickly before closing the door.

“What happened?” she asked, and grasped Katja’s hand. “Are you-”

“Did you get it done?” Katja asked.

“What? Yes, yes I did,” Linda said hurriedly, and rushed further into the house. She returned with what she had made of the material Katja had brought last night, and handed it over.

“I did my very best,” the young Shade said with pride that for a moment shone through the nervousness.

“Yes, I can see that,” Katja said and looked the garment over. “You only needed to make a few cuts and stitches for my sake.”

“You know that’s not how I operate,” Linda said and managed to smile.

Katja nodded and continued examining the result. Brjann came down from the upper floor, and hugged his wife from behind.

“But... how are you doing? You are, well, different,” Linda said hesitantly.

“I am ready,” Katja said calmly. “This ends tonight and I am ready. I will fight without fear or doubt, with every ounce of strength in me.” She clenched her hands around Linda’s gift. “Tonight I will become a warrior in full.”

The couple looked at her.

“Good,” Brjann then said to break the silence. “One can see as much. You look... fierce.”

Katja turned her head in the direction of the outer city. She mustn’t linger.

“Thank you for everything,” she said. Katja wished she could put more warmth into her words, but her own inner war drum was beating a relentless rhythm and keeping her hard.

She embraced Linda and squeezed until the young woman groaned a bit, and then did the same to Brjann. He was clearly a fine husband to Linda, and that alone was good enough for Katja.

“We will see you!” Linda said as Katja approached the door.

“Yes,” she replied, and glanced back.

Tomorrow, or in the next world.

She went out into the street and closed the door. The only thing she had left to do was complete.

-------------------

Katja hurried into her mail, arm guards, leg guards and gloves. Then she took the crimson, hooded cloak Linda had made off the bed and ran her eyes over it. This was what she was. Her people had worn such garments in more open times when there was no need for hiding. It had been their symbol for centuries, and from that had come the name many had forgotten. Tonight she would refresh people’s memories.

Katja put the cloak about her shoulders and closed the clasp. Whether she lived or died tonight, she would do it as herself.

“I am a Redcloak,” she said to the world.

She took a deep breath and then pushed it out in a hiss to excite her blood.

She tied the red scarf around her face, put on the helmet and stepped out.

She drew quite a lot of attention as she strolled through the castle, along the streets and to the gate. Some flat-out shouted that there she was, the mysterious warrior woman with the power out of legend. Others settled for quietly staring, or just peeking at her and whispering something to one another. The effect followed in her wake. At least once in her life she got to be one of the old defenders who had waged the great wars for humanity’s fate. She was headed for a terrible battle that might very well prove to be her last.

She was happy.

Thank you Serdra.

Jormundur leaned on a cane at his usual spot. He wasn’t as shocked as so many others, but still found it rather strange to see her like this. The man did know the old stories, after all. Katja wondered what was going through his mind at seeing them come true.

The captain chuckled.

“I suppose there is no point in secrecy anymore,” he said as she walked up beside him.

“No,” she replied absent-mindedly, and fixed her eyes on the wall.

The remaining Wolves had joined with the Eagles, forming a twenty-one-man group. They had been waiting for Katja, and now gathered around her. Many had bags under their eyes and bore clear signs of the horror they had experiences, but still seemed up for the next fight.

Valur nodded to her, looking grim and firm.

“It won’t be long,” Katja said loud enough for all nearby to hear. “I suppose they are impatient tonight.”

She felt it. Peter did not mean to wait for midnight this time. Soon the din she sensed with her mind would be a reality.

Jormundur glanced at her, but asked no questions.

“All ready!” he commanded. Katja looked at him and saw for a moment the pain the shout caused him, but he kept on going. “They want yet another spanking!”

The defenders shouted defiantly, though Katja felt they didn’t have the same vigour as before. The Brotherhood’s sorcery had left scars.

The arrangements Jormundur had made for the previous battle were still in place, though the defenders were fewer in number this time.

It began with a feeling Katja had come to recognize immediately.

“Demons!” she shouted. “Demons are coming!”

The attention on her doubled. Some visibly braced themselves. Others looked terrified.

“Where?” Jormundur asked quietly, and walked right up to her with the aid of his cane.

Katja signalled for a moment’s peace and closed her eyes. Peter wasn’t mucking about. She clearly sensed the clashing of arms and the screams of men in the very near future, but first demons would be dispatched to weaken them. She focused on finding where they would appear, and sensed the energy the sorcerer commanded call upon entities from the underworld. But he was directing them into the outer city, right among the defenders.

“Here!” she said to Jormundur and opened her eyes. “Among us!”

She swung her arms around.

The captain hesitated. Then he began to shout orders. The companies on the ground turned their backs together and readied their weapons, and Jormundur’s bodyguards clustered even tighter around him. Katja motioned the Eagles to follow her closer to the gate, and they obeyed immediately.

Here it comes.

The demons broke into the world with familiar screams. They appeared here and there, as Katja had foreseen. Most were larger than men, and promptly attacked whoever was closest. People shouted and the reorganization Jormundur had ordered proved its worth when the monsters immediately met with steel.

One particularly big one appeared in the middle of a company and struck before anyone could react. Men flew this way and that, and others fell over one another while fleeing this terrible foe that had literally appeared out of nowhere.

Katja headed towards it with the Eagles in tow. The demon looked her way and recognized its enemy. It stopped swinging at the soldiers and charged at her with ancient hatred. Katja lit the Sentinel Flame in her sword, swerved just before they would have met, and cut its arm off.

The monster roared and almost fell down. The Eagles seized the chance and swarmed it. Some of the men the demon had driven away recovered their wits and attacked it as well, and for all its strength it was covered in deep wounds in moments.

Katja couldn’t see a way to get to it, but was about to turn the rune on it when another demon rushed her. This one was more reminiscent of a snake than a man, and somehow slithered along the cobblestones while many little limbs clawed at them.