The Lantern-Lit City

by Vista McDowall

  The Hooded Man appeared now. Black tentacles surged around him, but they didn't attack. They dove into the wagons, drawing out boxes of scrolls. Alex shouted, and the scholars moved to stop the tentacles. The monstrous things threw them off easily, even as the soldiers renewed their attack.

  Cara didn't care about the scrolls. She only had eyes for the Hooded Man. Though her nose still protested and her ears buzzed, she used the beast. It lent speed to her feet, counteracting the slowness of the void. Cara snarled as she ran past monks and tentacles and soldiers, her sword begging for the Hooded Man's blood.

  He turned to her, and beckoned. Cara rushed to close the gap.

  Something else stepped from the void. It was the size of a large man, and humanoid in shape. It, too, wore a dark cloak that swathed its face, and it bore a black greatsword in its grey-veined, blue-tinged hands.

  Cara stopped to assess this new threat. Something about it seemed familiar, but she couldn't remember, her thoughts too muddled with the beast's instincts. Still, it stood between her and the Hooded Man, and she would defeat it to get to him.

  The Hooded Man turned away as the new monster advanced on Cara. She backed away, giving only enough ground to move in. It swung its giant sword with ease, keeping her at a distance.

  Cara ducked under the sword and slashed the creature's chest. It didn't grunt or move. It flung its arm out, catching her as she tried to dodge away. She crashed into a wagon, her head ringing. The beast pumped through her veins, and she staggered back up with a growl.

  The creature was ready for her. Even with the beast's strength, she couldn't move quickly so close to the void. She ran at the creature, her blade cutting into one of its arms. Its sword swept at her, and she barely pulled herself under it. She backed away again, breathing hard. What was this thing?

  The Hooded Man called out, and his soldiers raced back to the void and disappeared. All around her, Cara saw fallen scholars and soldiers, and empty wagons. She couldn't see Alex or Sandu.

  Rage filled her. She wouldn't let the Hooded Man escape again. This time, she ignored the monster and raced straight for the cloaked figure. He turned to her, his hand flicking dismissively. She braced herself for a tentacle, but they were all gone.

  The creature crashed into her, sending her sprawling. She panted on the ground as it loomed over her. Its foot stepped on her leg. Cara gasped and squirmed. Her sword hand struggled in the mud, but she brought her blade up and cut into the monster's flesh. It pressed her leg harder into the ground.

  "Enough!" The Hooded Man's shout was cold and harsh. "We have what we came for."

  The monster hesitated, then it turned its sword around. Cara screamed as the creature drove the blunt pommel into her leg, cracking it with brute force. She lay in agony as the creature walked back to the void. Tears flowed down her cheeks as the Hooded Man and his monster vanished.

  The void closed with a pop, leaving spots in her vision. She still tasted the stench on her tongue. Her ears cracked with the lack of noise.

  Gone. Cara slumped back on the ground as the beast retreated back inside her. He's gone again. She gasped in pain as her leg twitched, her calf bloodied and fractured.

  "Cara!" Alex's white face swam up out of the darkness. His skin was smudged with grime. He knelt beside her. "Are you hurt?"

  Cara could only nod, the pain too much for words. She grasped his hand, holding it tightly. Sandu pushed through the surviving scholars.

  "He escaped," Cara gritted out. "He escaped."

  "You did what you could," Alex said before turning to the scholars. "See what's left. Make a litter for her, and try to calm the oxen."

  He turned back to Cara, stroking her face as Sandu knelt to her other side. Alex said, "Be still now. We'll take care of it all."

  Cara let out a sob, and then the pain grew too great for her. She fainted, the world growing black.

  The prowler child's face lunged at Cara, its laughing fangs tearing into her skin. Its poison shuddered through her veins, turning her blood black. Her desperate heart pumped harder, unknowingly spreading the infection faster and faster. The rushing blood boiled in her ears. Red tinged the rings of her pupils, darkening her vision. Inside her, the beast celebrated. It rose up into her mouth, delighting in the lust that danced savagely in her chest.

  Cara spun around. Behind her, Alex and Sandu lay face-up on the floor. She advanced on them. Each claw on her hands twitched, and her tongue ran over her ready fangs.

  Sandu opened his eyes as Cara loomed over him. He struggled back, his hands scraping against the floor. He pleaded with her, but she paid him no heed. The skin of his throat was soft as she tore into it with a single claw. Staring at her bloodied finger in interest, she listened to him gurgling in his own blood.

  Then, slowly, gently, like a girl bending over her sleeping lover, Cara put her lips to his throat. She drank deeply, the sweet, coppery taste sliding over her tongue. Sandu's moans of pain grew quieter as his life essence slipped away.

  Cara was not satisfied. Blood coating her chin, she stood, letting Sandu's lifeless body drop to the ground. She turned to Alex, who lay peacefully asleep. With panther-like grace, Cara crept forward on all fours.

  Alex did not have time to wake. He sluggishly flailed as Cara's claws slashed his chest and stomach open, his entrails painting the ground in red and pink hues. This time, she didn't drink. She watched, fascinated, as Alex tried to pull himself away, dragging his splattered insides through the dirt. When Cara had had enough, she grabbed his leg, ignoring his pleas and cries of pain. Without thinking, she plunged her claws into his flesh and tore out his heart. It pumped for a moment longer in her hand, a dark spot of red beauty.

  "Cara..."

  Cara whipped around. Renna stood behind her in a gleaming white dress, her long blonde hair floating around her head. Cara hissed and dropped Alex's heart.

  "What have you become, Cara?" Renna asked. Cara scooted back, baring her teeth. Renna shook her head sadly, then turned away. Cara growled low in her throat, then sprang at her.

  A black tentacle wrapped around Cara, halting her. She growled and turned to see the Hooded Man. His eyes blazed beneath his cloak.

  "You think you can ever match my power?" he whispered in that cold voice. "You have no idea what you're facing."

  Cara twisted and squirmed, her claws swiping at him. He only laughed. The laughter grew and grew, heightening in a feverish pitch, until she shut her eyes and plugged her ears, wishing it would stop.

  Cara woke suddenly, her limbs glued by sweat to the litter. She shook her head to dislodge the dream. It drifted away, back to the realm of her unconsciousness. Her calf burned, though not as horribly as before, and though she wanted nothing more than to sleep, she found she couldn't ignore her heart's racing. She sat up as best she could and looked around.

  A few scholars huddled by a fire, and Alex and Sandu sat nearby. Cara made a noise, and her friends turned to her.

  "You're awake," Sandu said. He held out a skin of water.

  "We set your leg as best we could; you were in and out. I'm afraid our only potion to ease your pain is quite unpleasant," Alex said. "But I'm glad to see you awake."

  "What happened?" Cara croaked, her throat still parched even after the refreshing water.

  "He stole everything," Alex said, his face crestfallen. "All our scrolls, our books. Most of the horses ran off or were killed...and many good men died. "

  Cara swallowed past a sudden rage, and pushed down the beast. "What do we do now?"

  "My men will return to Mott to recuperate and research. We three push on for Riverfen and tell the earl."

  "And then we kill the Hooded Man," Cara said, half to herself. She ignored her friend's worried looks. I'm going to rip him limb from limb, and then I'm going to throw him to the prowlers. The beast assented, and for once Cara didn't feel repulsed. She remembered her own brutality in the battle, but didn't regret it. After all, Merick had trained her well, preparing her to kill or be
killed. And the beast slowed time. She wondered at that, and resolved to ask Alex in the morning.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jagger

  JAGGER KILLED for the first time at thirteen years old. The owner of two new stumps where his pinkies had once been – stumps that still bled and caused him to cry out in the night – he had come across a beggar wrapped in blankets clutching an entire loaf of fresh bread. Jagger's stomach hurt, for he hadn't eaten in days, and his limbs shivered from the cold. He had asked the old man to share, but the man refused. Jagger's hands moved as if of their own accord, and he watched in fascination as his fingers closed around the man's throat and choked him until his lips turned blue and his eyes rolled back into his head.

  Jagger took the blankets and the man's ratted coat, feasting that night on good bread.

  He had always been good at killing. Liked it sometimes, too, when the Shivs turned to him because he was the only man good enough to track and hit the mark. At least he'd been paid for it then.

  Now, Jagger was more bloodhound than human. The beauties of the autumn world meant nothing to him. He trailed his prey with supernatural intensity, his inner compass an inerrant guide. It was for good reason that he had gained a reputation as inescapable back in his prime. His knives remained satiated, for he killed nearly every Realm's Protector he came across; a swift slash of the throat or a blade in the back did the job quickly and quietly. Thoughts like How many widows have I created? or Perhaps that man had nothing to do with the Daggenhelm massacre flitted only briefly through his mind, but he paid them no heed. He'd made widows before. Like a dog, he didn't consider the consequences of his actions. His task became mindless, something he did only to further his goal: ride, kill, seek, kill, drink, ride.

  He tore through the mountains and valleys, through Mott, and to the hill overlooking the swamp. His quarry was near, and Jagger felt his fingers tingle with the promise of blood. He spurred his horse down the mountain, uncaring of its sweat and lather.

  The horse died from under him in the swamp, and he went forward on foot, ignoring the aches in his legs and pain in his chest.

  Darkness had fully descended when he arrived in the town at the middle of the swamp. His sore feet carried him into the bunkhouse. As soon as he had a beer in hand, he asked about Sandu

  The owner scratched his chin doubtfully. "Lots of folk passing through. Plenty of young men in the Mott caravan." He turned to a few scholars huddling together. "Some came back, said there was some sort of attack."

  Jagger scanned the scholars, but Sandu wasn't among them. He paid for his drink and settled back to watch the bedraggled group. They spoke nervously to each other, jumping at every little sound. When one of them stood and went upstairs, Jagger followed. He saw a door close, and before it could be locked, he shoved it open.

  The scholar went sprawling. Jagger shut the door behind him and drew a knife.

  "Who are you?" the scholar asked fearfully. "I don't have any money–"

  "Not here for money," Jagger said. He knelt over the man, letting his knife trail along the man's leg. "I want information."

  The scholar spluttered, and Jagger laid a hand to the man's shoulder. "I hear you've been traveling with a man named Sandu Crin."

  Jagger pressed the knife harder against the man's breeches, letting them rip just a little. The scholar yelped. Jagger waited. After a moment, the man stammered, "He...he was with us. A guest of our lord's."

  "Where is he now?"

  "They made camp in the swamp," the scholar said. "After the attack, the woman was injured. They're staying there until she's fit to travel."

  "How many are with them?"

  "Just my lord. He sent the rest of us back."

  Jagger contemplated the man's words. Fear could make a man babble, but this scholar seemed to be telling the truth. After a little more thought, Jagger nodded and stood. "Better clean yourself. Your friends will notice your wet breeches."

  With that, Jagger turned and left the blubbering scholar.

  His hands sweated, and he felt the familiar burning ache in his stomach that marked whenever his prey was at hand. He would not rest tonight, not until Sandu's neck was between his fingers. For a second, the Valadi girl's accusing eyes tangled themselves in his mind, but he shoved them aside brusquely. No need to think about her now.

  Even as night closed about him, Jagger hunted. He walked along the damp path, straining through the darkness for signs of life. His stumps tingled. A nauseous lump rose in his throat, threatening to choke him. Strange. He'd never felt sick about killing before.

  Voices called to him from the misty swamp. He knew the tales; hell, he'd sent some to the mist-folk himself. Jagger shook off their cries and kept going.

  Then he saw Raven. She stood, ethereal and perfect, on the road before him, her dark hair floating in the breeze. Jagger stopped still, drinking in the sight of her.

  "You'll not drive me off the road," he said at last when the mist-folk didn't speak. Don't mean I can't enjoy seeing her again.

  "Killing him won't bring me back," said mist-Raven.

  "It'll make me feel a fair sight better," Jagger grunted. He cringed back as the mist-folk stepped forward. She laid a hand to his coat, and he started. Mist-folk touches were chill as death, but her hand felt warm.

  She cupped his face, and Jagger stared at her. "Is it...is it really you?"

  "Remember when you first met Sandu?" asked Raven. Jagger nodded...

  ...Jagger watched the new peddler curiously, his fingers twirling a knife under the table. It was a habit he'd picked up a while ago, a sort of physical distraction while he thought. The peddler always had a smile on his fresh cheeks, but there was something deeper to him: in the way he held his cards – close to his chest, his fingers gripping them tightly – and the way he quaffed his drink as only a man running from his sorrows can. Yes, there was something more to him than merely a carefree demeanor.

  "Mind if I join?" Jagger asked, pulling a chair to the table occupied by the new peddler and three others. All but the peddler were hardened Shiv men: Ipter was a burglar, Yennef a forger, and Orien a cold-hearted mercenary. The peddler seemed a hen in a fox's lair.

  Orien dealt a new hand. "We're playing Yennef's version: princess takes high card, and soldier yields to merchant. How much you in for?"

  "A round of drinks to start," Jagger said. He gave a tight-lipped smile; he and Orien had notoriously failed to maintain civility for years.

  "Pity your woman won't let you gamble more," Orien snickered.

  It was bait, and Jagger knew it. But he didn't quite like the mercenary taking jabs at Raven. His smile widened a touch. "Pity you won't be able to pay your whores after you lose."

  Orien's expression darkened. "Tread carefully, Cross. The walkways are slippery after the rain. It'd be a shame if you were to slip, but you're a known drunkard. No one would be surprised. And who'd be there to comfort your poor, grieving widow?"

  Jagger snorted. "As if to suggest any woman would sleep with you without coin."

  "And after she's had a giant, she wouldn't want a man lacking endowment." This – to Jagger's surprise – from the peddler. All the men stared at him, Orien too shocked to make threats. The peddler shrugged. "That is, of course, if what they say of tall men is true."

  A moment of silence, then Jagger laughed, long and loud. Yennef chuckled with him, while Ipter only gave a weak grin. Orien stood abruptly, mumbling something about grabbing more beer.

  "What was your name again?" Jagger asked at last after his laughter subsided.

  "Sandu Crin," the peddler said.

  Jagger took Sandu's outstretched hand, and felt as if he might actually have a friend in that godforsaken hellhole.

  Some quinns later, Sandu clunked his plate down next to Jagger's. Without so much as a "hello," he dove into the meat and potatoes as if he hadn't eaten in a month.

  "Slow down there, Sandu," Raven said, laughing. Jagger's shoulders loosened ever so slightly a
t the beautiful sound. She continued, "Are you getting ready for winter or something?"

  Sandu shook his head, his cheeks ballooned out like a chipmunk's. Jagger laughed. Now he was thinking up similes...whatever next?

  Jagger shoved a full cup at Sandu. "Saved some of the good stuff for you."

  Sandu took it and quaffed a large mouthful. Music drifted over the full dining hall, and Jagger relaxed. Something about the lad made him feel untroubled. It could be Sandu's easy smile, or how Jagger felt at ease with him. He found himself telling more jokes, being less cross with the other Shivs, and looking forward more and more to Sandu's visits.

  In bed that night, Raven's head cupped against his shoulder, Jagger sighed deeply. Not the sort of sigh one has when one feels weary or overcome by some inner tragic thought, but the sigh of contentment. Raven noticed – as she always did – and asked, "Are you bothered by something?"

  "No. I'm happy for once, if you can believe it."

  Raven's piercing eyes met his in the darkness. "No one else here would, but I do. You've livened up quite a bit since Sandu came along. He's good for you. Better than I am." This was said without bitterness. Jagger would have cut a man for claiming his wife had a bitter bone in her.

  "You're pretty damn good. Should I marry him instead?"

  "Maybe it'd help you not be such a grouch all the time. He brings out that side of you that you've only been like with me. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you love him."

  Jagger frowned a little. Love? Until he met Raven, he never knew what the word meant. No parents had been there to love him, no kindly curates shared the love of the gods with him. Love was Raven's arms, her smile, her laughter, the scent of her neck as he kissed her, the way she stroked his hair when he couldn't control the hurt and rage anymore...