The Way of the Blade (21 page)

He climbed into his autofly and took off. Even if she was no more than a legend, the island was real. And legends were born from some sort of truth. Something had to be there that created the fear of an entire people. But a spark in his heart told him she was there, watching and waiting. She wanted the right man to come to her.

“I’m on my way,” he said and turned towards the island of Pali, home of the witch.

Chapter 21

Malja

Slices of moonlight cut through her bedroom window. Not much, though. Enough to see by but plenty dark to find lots of shadowy hiding places. Malja would need those when the alarms sounded.

She set Viper on the fluffy bed and spent a little time staring at it.
What an exquisite weapon.
So beautiful, so deadly. She hesitated to pick it up.

This killing wouldn’t be like others. This, she feared, might be murder.

It shouldn’t be. She had killed countless men before who had transgressed far less than Harskill. She had paid her honor to those who died just as Uncle Gregor had taught her to do. She even learned the fruitlessness in vengeance, and worked hard to only take a life when no other choice could be made. Yet, here she stood before Viper, once more planning to assassinate a man. Only this time, she questioned herself.

Perhaps that only proved her humanity — well, her humanness, at least.

She lifted Viper and sharpened its inner-crescent. Harskill had told her that the Carsites became the oppressors after years of suffering as the oppressed. Why would they do that?

“Why wouldn’t they?” she muttered. Because, under an honest light, all people want to exact revenge when they’ve been wronged. Some are strong enough to overcome this basic desire, but it still burns within all.

Except it’s more than that
.

When a people suffering humiliation and destruction suddenly gain power, they always vow never to let such a tragedy happen again.
Never again,
they say, and in those two simple words, they head down a path that turns them into their enemy. Each little step may be filled with logic — restrictions to protect the people, harsher sentences to dissuade the enemy from reforming, curfews and stronger policing to curb the tide of criminals — but the end result cannot be denied. They are that which they despise.

As Malja turned to sharpening Viper’s outer-crescent, she considered her own actions. Prepping to kill Harskill, even to save the Carsites, seemed full of hypocrisy — killing to stop killing. Could Fawbry be right?

Yet wasn’t this the whole point of leaving Corlin? To find and kill Harskill? To prevent him from using his power as Gate to take control of the universe?

She spun Viper before settling it in its sheath. She stretched her legs and arms, worked out a kink in her back, and cracked her neck and knuckles.
Leave the thinking to Fawbry
. She had a mission to accomplish and a world to save. If she stopped now, if she gave up on these people simply because Harskill created a moral quandary, then she would never be able to help any world. Harskill would win without any fight.

Malja took a cleansing breath and put her ear to the door. She closed her eyes and listened. Heavy breathing — not sleeping but certainly overweight, shuffling feet, a cough. Two guards, one on each side of the door.

She slapped her hand flat on the door. “I need some help in here.”

No answer.

With a fist, she pounded on the door. “Please. Some help.”

No answer.

She rolled her eyes. “Look, I can’t find any clean clothes and I’m soaking wet and there’s nothing to dry off with, so unless you want me to be naked and dripping all night, I need someone to show me —”

The door locks clicked, and one guard stepped in. His lascivious mouth only spurred Malja to move faster. She never wanted to hear what sick thoughts he could express, if given the chance.

She jammed Viper’s handle into the guard’s extended gut. He let out an
Oaf!
and doubled over. As she brought up her knee, the second guard entered the room in time to see blood spray upward from the first guard’s nose.

The second guard’s two snakes lifted up like wings and spit a yellowish liquid at Malja. She twirled to the right and heard the first guard scream as some of the liquid sizzled into the back of his head. The second guard reacted to his partner’s pain by ceasing the attack and reaching out to help. Malja grabbed the door frame, jumped into the air, and kicked the second guard in the temple with her heel.

He tumbled down, clutching his head, and rolling on the floor. Before the first guard could pull himself together, Malja hit the base of his head with Viper’s hilt and the man went down. Two more rapid taps finally knocked the first guard unconscious.

The second guard started to shake off the attack, but Malja had more than an advantage now. She leaped on the man, and he flailed his hands in a startled and pointless defense. She knocked him out even easier than the first.

After dragging them into a closet, she propped a chair under the door handle. Then she headed down the hall, away from the main lobby. Too many guards stood between her and Harskill, if she took that route. But the servant’s halls might go unnoticed.

Keeping low and to the dark, she slid from one hall to the other. They had become more rounded, more tunnel-like, than the formal architecture of the public rooms. They also curved in such a way that she swore the tunnels were turning back on themselves. She didn’t like the thought, but she couldn’t erase the fact that these tunnels looked more snake-like than anything else.

Don’t get lost. Don’t get lost.

The mantra guided her, forcing her to keep her internal compass pointing true. She came to a crossroads, and an amber light flickered off to the right. Pressing against the wall, she inched her way close enough to listen at what might be down that route.

“That lady sure was strange,” a boy said.

“Never mind that. Eat your dinner.” An older voice — the boy’s father?

“She hardly ate any of this, and it’s good food.”

“So, don’t let it be wasted.”

A few seconds of slurping and chomping passed. “Pa? Why do we get this food and not anybody else?”

“Because we serve it. It goes with the job.”

Malja thought back to her dinner with Harskill. There had been a man with a boy helping him. Her attention had zeroed in on Harskill to such an extent that she had barely registered any of the surrounding of the meal — including the servants.

Footsteps. Then another voice. “Hi, Pa.”

“Koni!” the little boy said. “You almost missed dinner. I got to help Pa today.”

“Great. Then show me how it’s done. Go get me a bowl. I’m starving.”

“Right to it.”

Little feet scampered away. Malja looked down the other corridors. Any one of them could be the right way. Or the wrong one. She needed a guide. But this man and his boys — she wasn’t sure.

“Haven’t seen you in a bit,” the father said.

“I’ve been around.” Though Tommy never spoke, Malja figured he sounded something like this young man. The attitude certainly fit.

“You’ve been working, haven’t you?”

“You say that as if that were a bad thing to do.”

“Not bad. But you’re young. You should be out drinking, laughing, finding a woman. Life is full of work and pain and hunger and all the awful things you’ve seen but never had to feel the full weight of just yet. You should enjoy this part of your life — it’ll be over before you realize it.”

He sounded like Fawbry. Malja’s stomach turned.
Could Fawbry be right about this, too?
Tommy would certainly agree with them. But Tommy had special circumstances that this boy didn’t have — unless this servant suddenly bore magic powers.

A crash came from further down, followed by a child’s cry. The father sighed. “Come on, Koni. Let’s go see what your brother broke now.”

As the voices receded, Malja decided this path had been a mistake. If she went any further, she’d get lost, and while the servants had their hardships, they didn’t speak with the pain of those who would support murdering their boss. In fact, considering the results of losing their employment, she guessed that they would never help her out.

She hurried back along the twisting corridors until she returned to her room. The guards had yet to awaken, but that wouldn’t last much longer. She stepped out on the balcony. A four-story drop to a stone ground provided no help. To either side, she saw more balconies, but hopping from one to another only increased the chances of being noticed by somebody in the adjoining rooms. Which left one option.

She gazed upward. Only two stories more to get to the roof.
Don’t think on it
. She planted her foot on the balcony railing and hoisted herself up. The walls had been built of rough stone giving her plenty of surfaces to grasp.

“Finally, the brother gods send me a little luck.” She wanted to take her time, make sure each stone would withstand her weight, make sure each handhold would hold. But soon enough, those guards would break down the closet door, and she did not want to be stuck clinging to a wall when she needed to be wielding Viper.

Viper!
With adrenaline rushing and the pressure of the moment, she came close to missing the obvious solution. She swung Viper overhead and struck its point into the stone. Like a giant pickax, Viper dug in, and Malja pulled herself up. She found a spot for each foot, loosened Viper and swung again. In this way, she managed to climb faster and more securely. At least, it felt more secure to her.

Once on the roof, she scurried across, keeping low, all the time searching for access points. Only one door that she could see. Two options now: take the door and face whatever she finds on the other side as she fights her way to Harskill or descend the wall and sneak into Harskill’s room. The latter seemed the sensible and strategic choice.

As she leaned over the edge, trying to determine which balcony would get her closest to Harskill, she noticed a pattern in the dark fields not far off. She pulled out her spyglass and observed the area. Her chest tightened and her breath caught.

Row upon row, column upon column of tents. Campfires set every tenth row. Stretching as far as she could make out in the darkness. The Scarite army. They weren’t a scrapheap of survivors cobbling together a fighting force, and they weren’t a group of starving refugees who simply wanted to go home. This was a fully-armed, fully-outfitted, fully-prepared invasion force.

A siren wailed out a long droning tone. Through her spyglass, Malja saw concerned heads popping from the tents. Must be an alarm for her.

She collapsed the spyglass and backed her way toward the center of the roof, far from the eyes of those on the ground. Part of her wanted to ignore the alarm and the army. Simply attack Harskill and kill him. The Scarites didn’t have the skills to stop her. But they had numbers. Enough to take her down in the process. And if their numbers hit her hard enough, fast enough, they might kill her by sheer attrition. But she would die knowing she had saved worlds upon worlds.

Another part of her, however, pointed out that if she died, nobody would be around to warn the Carsites. They would be slaughtered, and the Scarite terror would begin. Did she have the right to trade saving this one world for all others?

She thought of Tommy and that settled it. “Don’t think you’re getting anything more than a little time,” she whispered to Harskill, believing that he was somewhere below her.

She turned to leave when she heard the laughter. A Scarite with one good eye and six snakes hissing off his back hovered near the edge of the roof. A jagged scar marred his face. It started at his temple and worked its way down beneath his armored collar.

He flew in, putting out his foot as if walking, and strode right onto the roof. Malja whirled Viper in front of her, letting it do all the threats necessary. One-Eye stepped closer.

She watched his snakes. He had no other weapon, so she only had to wait for them to rear back or show some other sign of conjuring magic. One-Eye stepped closer again.

Malja held her ground. He would be in range of Viper far sooner than in range of her. If he wanted to taste her blade, she had no problem with that.

He stepped closer once more, only this time, she saw one of his snakes pull back. Clever — trying to hide casting his snake magic by driving her focus to his physical threat. Not clever enough.

She rushed him. Barreling forward, she drove her shoulder into his lower ribs and knocked him down. Without breaking her stride, she brought Viper overhand and struck. One-Eye rolled out of the way and kicked her in the leg.

As she fell, he rose. His snakes all reared back. She went down clumsily, her legs spreading out and preventing a smooth roll, but she managed to keep Viper at the ready. When the snakes shot out their magic, it came as a bolt of electrical energy. Malja thrust Viper forward like a curved lightning rod. The thick animal hide handle protected her as Viper absorbed all the magic.