Branded

by Clare London

  The panic clenched at my gut. “Seleste—”

  I never finished the sentence. Behind Seleste, there was a sudden jumble of noise and activity, and the soldiers jostled around us. Chloe stepped up suddenly beside her sister, grabbing Seleste’s arm in a fierce grip. Darius moved forward from behind her, his sword aimed at my heart. He was panting slightly as if he’d just been running.

  “You will not be tricked into weakness, Seleste!” Chloe screamed, her sweet voice twisted and ugly with venom. She’d heard enough, it seemed, to know her world of privilege was threatened. “We’ll rule in the way we wish. We will not be blackmailed into sharing our power with the inferior and the scum!”

  At the same time, Lyril called for a charge against the Remainders. The Guard drew their swords almost as one, a magnificent rattle and hiss of sound. They were overcome in numbers but far superior in skill and weapons. I saw the white blur of Kiel’s face and heard the rumble of fear and anger from the Remainders. There would be bloodshed in the courtyard in moments. I looked around wildly, seeking a weapon, seeking to prevent the carnage.

  And then there was an even more astonishing sound behind us all, from the direction of the Library—a burst of angry, howling noise, a sweeping rush of the air in the courtyard. I staggered back slightly, dirt and dust sticking to my skin from the wind that lifted around me. A huge wave of heat hit me, making my lips go dry and my eyes sting.

  “The Library!” I don’t know who called out, but the cry was taken up by many others. “The Library’s on fire!”

  THE CHAOS around me was incredible, the courtyard suddenly so full of bodies that I didn’t know the difference between friend and foe. Soldiers rushed past me toward the Library, pushing me to the side, calling out to each other. By some fortuitous twist of fate, my foot stumbled on my discarded dagger, and I bent quickly and retrieved it. But something alerted me at the last minute to the whine of a sword behind me, and I twisted aside just as Darius brought it down past my shoulder. He missed me by a hair’s breadth—the second time I had barely escaped injury from one of the Royal Guard.

  “You’ll be executed today,” he snarled. His eyes were wild. “And I claim the right to do it!”

  “You set fire to the Library!” I thrust out my dagger and parried his next blow, forcing away its path to my belly. I had no doubt he’d just run back from there. “Why?”

  He leaned back, laughing. He was better armed than I was, and his anger gave him a fierce, maniacal strength. “There’s no book—the scribe himself said that, I heard him in the shadows of the wall when he smuggled you back in. And I’ve just made sure of it! There’s nothing there now to disturb my Queen or my Mistress, nothing to challenge their power, nothing to prevent them caring for us and guiding us for generations to come.” He turned, his limbs lithe and his movements instinctive, and my stab at his sword arm passed with barely a tear of his tunic. “I’ll be this soldier for as long as I wish. As strong and as fine as I wish. I’ll not be threatened by slaves and men who’ve been found wanting, exiled from a city they should beg and grovel to return to. The Mistresses will desire me and praise me and find me invaluable in their service.”

  I swore under my breath, needing most of my energy to avoid his thrusts. He wasn’t open to reason; I knew that now. I spun as he darted forward, catching his arm as he came in close to me, gripping as hard as I could and pulling short the arc of his sword. Around me, all I could hear were shouts and cries of panic and horror. There had been few fires in the city in all the time I’d lived there, and at the Library it was even more shocking. I caught sight of the gray robes of some of the scribes, returning from their distraction at the House of Physic to find their work and livelihood going up in flames. They wept openly.

  I struggled to see the extent of the fire, peering over Darius’s shoulder as we grappled with each other. It had started in the main entrance hall and crept swiftly throughout the building. The first explosion of tinder had swept up to the highest beam of the ceiling, and then the narrow corridors between the shelving would have created tunnels through which the wind from outside could take the flames. The bright, fearsome heat now raced through the wooden beams of the structure inside. I could see its path through the window frames that were rapidly charring and peeling away, the crackling blaze of red and orange flames licking greedily along the corridors. The dusty rooms and their precious paper and cloth volumes were ripe for burning.

  My gut churned with fear. Dax had been thrown to the foot of the Library wall! If he were still unconscious and unable to help himself, he’d be in danger from the fire. I strained my eyes, trying to see past Darius to where Dax had been, but my view was obscured by the running, panicking people. Remainders called to each other in frightened but strong voices, exhorting their fellows to fetch water. Wooden buckets rattled and feet thundered back and forth from the water butts as people organized themselves to fight the fire. Blankets were thrown down from windows above the courtyard, soaked in water to protect the brave souls. I didn’t see how the Library could be saved now, but maybe they could prevent the fire from spreading. Some of our buildings were constructed of stone, but many were built on wooden frames, including most of the Remainder quarters.

  I wasn’t allowed the luxury of looking for Dax among the fire fighters for very long; I was in a dangerous fight of my own. Darius bore down fiercely, trying to shake off my grip. I wrestled with him, but my hands were painful from my earlier fall. The palms were also slippery with sweat from the heat of the nearby fire. An unlucky twist of my wrist, and he struck my dagger out of my hand.

  And then a figure raced past me, his thin, wiry legs speeding over the ground as fast as I’d ever seen a young man run: Kiel, his blond hair splayed out behind him, his face still as white as parchment but with the reflected gleam from the fire in his wide eyes, his pupils distorted by a blazing festival of color. Darius’s sword arm pushed down on me until my shoulders bent and my weaker knee started to fail beneath me, and meanwhile I watched with mounting shock as Kiel darted through the front door of the Library, into the very heart of the flames.

  And behind him, with an anguished cry of anger and horror, raced Zander.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I KICKED away from Darius just as he pushed me to the very limit of my knee’s strength, and I rolled to one side on the ground. He swung his sword again, but my movement had distracted his aim and it caught the seam on the calf of my boot. We both cried out in fury. Zander had just reached the Library doorway and paused at the familiar sound of soldiers head-on in battle. He half turned, enough that I could see the shock in his expression and his confusion as he tried to decide what to do.

  “Save Kiel!” I shouted. “Save the scribe. Forget the book, forget the Queen, forget us!”

  The look on Zander’s face was astonishing—I had never seen such naked, painful emotion. He paused only one more moment, grabbing a wet blanket from a passing Remainder and quickly unbuckling his belt. He caught it deftly as it slipped from his waist, then unsheathed the sword and threw it to me. Startled, I grasped it by the hilt and turned to catch the downward swing of another of Darius’s blows. It would have split my head open if I hadn’t had a weapon to defend myself.

  By then other soldiers were appearing around us, maybe drawn by Zander. The attack on the group of Remainders had been suspended when the fire started, and now I saw some of the Guard alongside the city servants, ferrying buckets to and from the Library, dousing the flames at the base of the building as best they could. I struggled back up to my feet, slicing through Darius’s defenses in a similar move to the one I’d used at the battle for Queenship all that time ago, the sword sweeping up and through his own outward stretch, striking at the center of his torso. He recovered better this time, though, grunting and stumbling backward, astonished and furious that Zander had come to my aid.

  I pressed on after him and wrestled him down to the ground. He fell heavily, a leg twisting awkwardly underneath his body,
and there was a sickening crack as his head hit the stones. I leaned over him, not allowing him to get up, pinning his arm back with my own. I prized his hand from his sword and thrust the weapon away from him, the blade skittering across the cobbles. Blood trickled down from a cut in his temple and he looked dazed. We were both panting heavily.

  “Stand down, soldier,” I hissed. “Surrender to me!”

  He smiled then, a strange, unnerving smile that was surely ridiculous for a man brought to defeat on the battlefield, albeit a courtyard in the city grounds. His free hand hovered briefly near his empty sword belt, and then he slid it deliberately down his chest and laid his palm down low on his belly. “Never,” he said softly, looking up at me with sly, half-hooded eyes. “Unless that’s how you want to play with me.”

  I pulled back despite myself, full of loathing for him. I glanced around, but it was difficult to make out individuals among the chaos. I couldn’t see any sign of Seleste or Chloe, and I assumed the Guard had taken them to safety. Nor could I see Dax. His body was no longer in a heap at the edge of the Library wall, for which I was profoundly glad, at the same time panicking as to where he might be and whether he’d been harmed in the commotion.

  There was a sudden shout from the Library and soldiers ran over to help Zander, who was stumbling his way out. The blanket he’d taken in was slung over his shoulder, the thick material black with soot and burned at one of the edges. His hair was dark with dirt and his face streaked with sweat. In his arms he held a slim body. When one of the Silver Captains tried to take it from him, he pulled back angrily, resisting any help. He staggered a few more yards away from the building and dropped to his knees on the stones, just within my reach. The Captain was able to grab the blanket, and he laid it on the ground. Then Zander placed the body on top of it. He didn’t move again, just knelt there, looking down at his burden. The Silver Captain ran back toward the Library, where the men were finally bringing the fire under control. Large clouds of foul-smelling black smoke billowed out from the rooms, and the air around us was full of paper-thin, flaky ash.

  I stepped away from Darius who still lay disoriented and panting on the ground. I turned to the Gold Warrior on his knees. “Is Kiel alive?”

  “The book,” Zander said softly. I had to strain to hear him properly. “He kept saying he had to save the book. He wouldn’t listen to me, he wouldn’t come to me. So I went and got him.” He looked up at me, and I was shocked to see his grief-stricken expression. “He was burning. What’s so important to a man that he lets himself burn?”

  I knelt down beside the blanket. “It was his work and his pride. It was the history of this planet and his people. Ours too.” I laid Zander’s sword back down beside him and reached to touch Kiel’s neck. Zander made a noise of protest, but he didn’t try to stop me. Kiel’s body was filthy, with hideous burns on his left side, all the way down from his shoulder to his hand, and from his hip to his ankle, the broken skin glinting red and angry against the blackened surface of his flesh. I felt sick with horror, but I forced myself to lean over him and listen for any breath. A pulse throbbed gently at his neck.

  “I don’t think he’s dead. We can save him. You can save him. We’ll take him to the House of Physic as soon as the fire has died down. We’ll use this blanket to carry him.”

  Smoke was still belching out of the Library, but the flames had reduced and the heat around us was less fierce now, though it still hung as tangible as a shroud in the air around us. Edrius and another Silver Captain looking for Zander started over toward us. I looked around to call some others of the Guard to help us.

  It was an unwise move. I was distracted by my concern for Kiel and my continuing fear for Dax. The only warning I got of danger was a movement at the edge of my vision—and suddenly Darius bore down on me again. He was wheezing, there was blood all down the side of his face, and his steps were clumsy. But he had recovered his sword and I had no weapon of my own, having returned Zander’s to him. Darius reared up over me and lifted his blade two-handedly above his head to bring it down on me. I had offered him the most vulnerable target, kneeling here before him.

  Zander turned even as I lifted an arm to try to protect myself. He snatched up his sword and swung it up to meet Darius’s strike, though his grip was awkward because he was still on his knees. Despite that, he stopped the downward slice, but he rocked back on his heels and Darius knocked the sword from his hand. Darius snarled, and, in a blind, injured rage turned his attack onto Zander.

  “No!”

  With a furious cry from behind us, Edrius dashed forward, reaching over Zander’s kneeling body, his sword drawn and glinting among the dark, floating ash in the air.

  “Hold!” Zander cried, but Edrius ignored him, moving swiftly to protect his idolized Gold Warrior. He was in better physical shape than Darius, but Darius fought with a mad fury that made him both stronger and more unpredictable. Edrius stumbled slightly, trying to avoid Zander and Kiel on the blanket below, and in that second, taking advantage of the other soldier’s loss of balance, Darius lunged and ran his sword through the young Captain’s body, sliding up and under the breastplate into his belly.

  Edrius gave a gasp of shock. He dropped his sword and fell limply to his knees. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed in front of us.

  I cried out in anger, impotent without a weapon, but wanting to attack Darius with my bare hands. I struggled to get back up on my feet. Zander was white with similar shock and horror for his fallen soldier. But we were both on the ground, unarmed and disadvantaged before Darius; it was as if time had slowed down for us. There wouldn’t be enough of it—not enough precious time to gather our wits and avenge Edrius. Darius was already dragging his sword out of the younger soldier’s fatally wounded body, Edrius’s blood bubbling out onto the cobbles. Darius swung around, his arms back above his head and the blood still glistening on his blade, the arc of it whistling down toward us both. My last thought was to wonder where Dax was and to hope he’d escape again from the city.

  The sword fell.

  I ROLLED, instinctively, the only maneuver I could make from that position. I was conscious of Zander’s angry shout as I fell heavily against him. But then came the flash of another blade and the metallic sound of two swords meeting with force. I watched Darius stagger backward, crying out with shock, and the other sword followed him, sweeping cleanly and strongly against him, striking at his shaky defense, pushing him farther and farther back, away from us.

  I looked up. The swordsman was Dax, his right arm hugged close to his chest but his left arm gripping my sword as confidently as if it were his own. Darius had knocked my sword away to the Library wall when he’d first ambushed me, but Zander had pushed Dax that way as well. I realized with surprise and gratitude that he’d done that deliberately so that Dax might retrieve the weapon. I stared at Dax, savoring the sight of him, my heart leaping with joy that he was alive.

  Darius fought with a manic desperation, but Dax matched him in grim determination. With fierce pride I watched Dax take control of the confrontation, and it took only a few more strokes before he knocked the sword from Darius’s weakening grip. The hilt was slick with Edrius’s blood, but even without that, Darius’s whole body was now trembling with shock and pain from his earlier fall. He dropped to his knees before Dax, his mouth opening in probably the last expression of his hatred and contempt.

  Dax struck him down before he could speak, watching him fall to the ground. Then, as Darius hissed wordlessly up at him, Dax ran his sword quite deliberately through Darius’s body.

  “Stand down, soldier,” he hissed. “A Gold Warrior told you so!”

  Darius rolled once then crumpled at Dax’s feet, facedown and deathly still. Slowly, a trail of blood started to seep from under his belly—a dark spreading pool, staining the ground and mingling with that from Edrius’s body.

  I COULDN’T see if it was a mortal wound. I didn’t care. From the look on the faces of the Silver Captains
who rushed to restrain Darius with ropes and to take him into custody, I didn’t think they cared either. They were fierce fighters and followed orders readily, but Darius had threatened a Gold Warrior and then killed Edrius, a fellow Silver Captain, with an attack that had been vicious and indefensible. It had offended every soldier of honor who was there to see it.

  I stumbled to my feet and ran to Dax. “You’re not hurt?”

  He turned and smiled grimly at me, his face weary and filthy with sweat and dried blood, but his pale blue eyes alight with passion. “No. Winded and bruised only. My arm and side are painful, but I think it’s from the old wound.”

  I stared at the sword still gripped in his left hand. “You fight well.”

  Dax grimaced. “I had to learn afresh when I lost most of the use in my right hand.” He searched my face and his eyes softened. “It was worth it.”

  “And the Exiles? They’re on the hills outside the city.”

  He nodded. “I heard. Kiel called them to arms, though apparently they’re waiting for my orders.” Pride for his men shone in his eyes. “I’ll send one of the Remainders out with a message. There’s no need to be secretive now.”

  “Will you attack?”

  He must have heard something in my voice because he peered at me. “You want to question my authority again, soldier? After I’ve just saved your life?”

  I smiled. I touched his cheek, then let my hand fall back to my side. “No. They’re your men, your army. It’s your life.”

  “It can be yours too,” he said, an underlying urgency in his tone. “Anything you want from me. Any place you want. I know you said you’d come to me, but it doesn’t matter where I am—”