Princess of Blood

by Tom Lloyd

  Just as well, Lynx reminded himself, given what Toil’s planning. If we live through the day, we can bother with worrying what it all means.

  Even in the privacy of his own head, it sounded a hollow ideal, but Lynx could only grit his teeth and set about getting ready. He replenished his cartridge case and ate a scrap of gritty bread, shedding the pack he’d carried through the labyrinth so it didn’t slow him down further.

  A thin spread of cloud seemed to suspend the encroaching dawn, snaring its light and holding it ransomed in the heavens rather than permitting it to illuminate the broken streets below. The Skyriver had faded from a dull smear to almost invisible by the time the Cards slunk through the gloom to the western picket where the biggest barricade stood. Lynx had to fight the urge to just stand there with his arms stretched wide, staring up at the beautiful open sky and breathing in the clean fresh air of outside, as a weight lifted from his shoulders. Had he been on his own and somewhere else, he might have, but there was a hard day ahead of them all and it was no time for celebrating.

  The barricade was a ragged affair, four yards high but flimsy all the same. Tables and chairs, carts, barrels and crates, even roof beams and a stone statue had been incorporated and strung together by a tangled mesh of wire. Few defences would stand up to an earther so few tried. This flimsy obstacle would be shot through in moments, but with a dozen cables looped through it all, it would at least remain an obstacle to invasion even if it offered little actual protection.

  A small tunnel had been built into the design on the left-hand side, currently plugged by a large dining table. As Anatin led his Mercenary Deck to the barricade, they heard raised voices from the other side. The sentry sitting atop the barricade seemed unconcerned by what was being said, keeping his eyes on the street beyond and clearly only half-listening. At the arrival of the Cards, however, the man looked back and gave them a small nod.

  ‘Officer’s here,’ he announced in a bored tone, ‘you can come in if you want ’im.’

  ‘Open the damn way then!’ barked a man on the other side. ‘You’ve as long as it takes me to load my gun.’

  ‘Whoah!’ Anatin said, hurrying forward as the mercenaries on the ground started to drag the obstacles out of the way. ‘No need for shooting, certainly not this early.’

  A Knights-Charnel officer with a puffy face and thin moustache appeared from behind the table. ‘Have that sentry whipped for insubordination,’ he snarled. ‘Man’s been refusing to admit us for five minutes. Unless you’ve forgotten your company’s terms of surrender—’ He broke off and looked around at the Cards. ‘You’re not Red Scarves? Why are you armed?’

  Anatin gave him a friendly grin and pulled a pistol, pointing it at the man’s face. ‘Like I said, there’s no need for shooting this early, so don’t force my hand, eh? Call your men in. Any of ’em tries to run and you all end up dead, understand?’

  The blood drained from the man’s face, but as he was hauled forward he began to splutter in fury. ‘You’ve signed the death warrant for every man and woman here, you know that?’

  ‘We all got to go sometime.’

  The man drew himself up to his full height. His uniform markings declared him an infantry captain, a narrow scar on his cheek worn like a medal in an army where commissions were bought more often than earned.

  ‘When I do not escort Commander Deshar to the general, she will assume you’ve reneged on our agreement. You’ll be wiped out. Drop your guns and get to your knees right now or every person here is as good as dead.’

  ‘We’ll go see her ourselves if you like, where is she?’

  The captain paused. ‘Gods on high, you’re insane.’

  ‘That’s what my men say,’ Anatin said amiably. ‘Now, where?’

  ‘Her command post.’ The captain’s lip curled. ‘Enjoy finding it yourself, I’ll not help you.’

  ‘Thought as much, but I had to ask. Mebbe someone here will beat it out of you, mebbe not. I ain’t going to bother.’

  Three mercenaries started stripping the Charnelers of their weapons as the last of the captain’s small command were pulled through the gate. There were only six in the end, not even a full squad, and the regular soldiers looked as resigned as their captain was furious. The man had the sense not to put up a fight or shout for help, though – the threat of having your throat slit tended to have that effect on a man. His loyalty to his Order might be undimmed, but he saw the writing on the wall and complied meekly enough when his turn to be bound and gagged came.

  ‘What have we got out here then?’ Anatin commented, peering through the makeshift sally port with Payl and Toil, while Teshen and Kas scrambled up to join the sentry.

  ‘Looks pretty quiet.’

  ‘There’s a regiment barracked in that building there, with the lights,’ supplied the sentry. ‘Pickets at every major crossroad. I saw a column move south not long ago, towards the university district.’

  ‘Do we know where the general’s stationed?’

  ‘We’ve sent out some scouts. Only one’s got back so far, but he said they’re keeping to the canal avenues and her barge is inside the city.’ The sentry sucked his teeth for a moment. ‘Your friend came straight down this road,’ he said after a while, pointing. ‘Came from the right around that corner there, not the quickest route but likely they’ve only secured the main roads.’

  Lynx glanced behind them and saw the Red Scarves were forming into their units. Other, smaller, groups had been dispatched on distraction missions and they would be slipping out through surrounding buildings right now. Speed was their only advantage – there were thousands of Charneler troops in the city and together the Cards and Scarves had no more than five hundred in total.

  ‘The barracks is our target,’ Toil reminded Anatin. ‘We take that out and cut north, try to skirt behind the main body of troops as Vigilance’s skirmishers create a distraction and the Red Scarves tie up the centre.’

  ‘Sitain,’ Lynx murmured, turning to the young woman beside him. ‘How strong are you right now?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Still buzzing after that water, why?’

  ‘Could you put out a whole regiment?’

  ‘What?’ Sitain coughed. ‘Shattered gods, how should I know?’

  ‘If they’re all in that building still,’ Lynx clarified. ‘All nice and close.’

  ‘Ah, maybe?’

  ‘Good enough. Anatin!’

  The commander turned with a scowl. ‘What now?’

  ‘Let me and Sitain go ahead. She’s full to bursting, all the mages are. Might be she can take out all the barracks there without us drawing too much attention to ourselves.’

  ‘What?’ Anatin opened his mouth to berate Lynx but, before he could, Toil laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘If she can,’ Toil said quietly, ‘it’s a huge advantage. Lastani – where are you? Could it be done?’

  The other mage stepped forward. ‘I … I don’t know. I’ve never felt so strong, though, so maybe she has a chance.’

  ‘All I needed to hear. Lynx, grab some coats off our friends there. Might give you cover enough. If anyone comes to challenge you, we start shooting, okay?’

  Lynx ducked his head in acknowledgement and in moments two black-and-white greatcoats were passed over. He and Sitain put them on and slipped out into the deserted grey streets, glancing back once at the barricade before heading down the street to the building that had been pointed out.

  The road was covered in debris – broken bricks and tiles along with the detritus of a fleeing population. They had a hundred yards to walk and, despite the chill morning air, Lynx’s neck was tacky with sweat as they tried to act like part of a conquering army. The building was a large block five floors high with a smaller wing jutting off the side and a warehouse nestled in its lee. It seemed to be a consortium office of some sort, but the flags of its companies had been pulled down and a heap of goods had been pulled from the warehouse and set alight in the street.

 
They approached from the rear, holding back until a patrol had rounded the corner then hurrying to the stable gate while they assessed the problem. There was a face at one top window, but he was watching another approach. No doubt he saw Lynx and Sitain, but he’d have seen the delegation arrive at the barricade so would have no reason to be suspicious. Lynx could hear Sitain gasping short, nervous puffs of breath as she hugged her plundered coat close. They wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny, that much was obvious.

  ‘How close do you need to be?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Is the wall going to be a problem?’

  ‘I’ve never done this before, remember? Just hurry up – I can feel the magic seeping out of me.’

  ‘What?’

  She hissed in irritation, not at him Lynx realised, but at a lack of words to explain herself properly.

  ‘Whatever happened underground, if felt like I was filled to bursting with magic. Like a wineskin.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I’m no trained mage. I can’t keep it all in, the power’s slowly draining out of me. Might be no human was ever meant to hold that magic, but every moment I don’t concentrate on holding the seams together, more trickles out.’

  ‘We probably should have planned this better, right?’

  ‘Shut up and go.’

  Lynx nodded and drew his sword, hiding it behind his back before he tried the ring latch of the stable gate. It turned and opened easily enough, revealing a small courtyard.

  ‘Hey, who goes there?’

  ‘Easy friend,’ Lynx said, advancing towards the challenging voice. A man appeared from one of the stables, mage-gun in hand. ‘Got some girls, I couldn’t bring ’em in round the front, could I?’

  ‘Girls?’

  Lynx beckoned and pointed at Sitain, lurking in the gloom of the gate. ‘Whores, Sergeant Ulain sent me out for ’em.’

  On instinct the guard stepped forward to see Sitain better. ‘What company is—’

  Lynx lunged forward, closing the ground between them with one pace and driving his sword into the man’s gut. The impact drove him back, and as Lynx yanked the gun out of his hands he almost ended up on top of the guard as he fell to the ground. He could smell the man’s breath as he gasped his last – the stink of peppered meat washing across Lynx’s face as he abandoned his sword and pulled his dagger. The man hardly moved, impaled by the sword and pinned by shock and agony, so it was a simple job to drive the dagger up into his brain and end his pain.

  Lynx withdrew his weapons and quickly wiped the blades on the dead man’s uniform. Sheathing both, he dragged the guard into one corner of the stable and waved Sitain forward. The young woman peered at him dumbly from the gate, face white, as Lynx hissed and beckoned – for a moment not realising why she was holding back. Then he looked down at the blood on his hands, the body at his feet and felt a pang of shame.

  He’d killed the man without a second thought, it was an instinct etched into his bones and Lynx was under no illusions about himself, but Sitain … She’d seen her mercenary comrades kill before, but usually it was using a mage-gun or amid complete chaos. She might have even killed someone herself, by accident most likely given how poor a shot she was, but it would have been different. Here, Lynx had pounced on a man and stabbed him to death. He could see in Sitain’s eyes that the awful truth of their chosen profession had never been clearer to her.

  ‘Sitain!’ Lynx said a fraction louder. ‘Look at me, remember what we’re here to do! They all die if you can’t put them out before the rest reach us.’

  That seemed to break the spell as Sitain flinched and swallowed hard, nodding. Eyes averted from the dark pool of smeared blood, she scampered forward and joined him in the shadows.

  ‘Can you do this?’

  ‘I … I’m going to have to try.’

  Lynx caught her by the arm and saw the resolve in her eyes. She might not like it, but she was a stronger soul than she realised, and Lynx stepped back, satisfied.

  She looked up at the large building. It was bigger than any of the inns the company had taken since she’d joined them – most likely there were more than a hundred soldiers camped there while they awaited orders. Clearly the Charnelers were confident that Toil’s brother was as good as his word, happy to leave their flank largely undefended when there was no safe route around behind wherever the front line was.

  Normally they’d be right to, Lynx reminded himself. I doubt even Toil alone would have been able to persuade the Red Scarves to try something like this. They know the damage a breach of the line can cause once the burners start to fly, but they also know the casualties you’ll take if you try anything more than a quick raid.

  He looked down at the back of his hand. The tattoo was clear on his skin there but not shining any longer. It just looked like a thin coating of pearly paint – hardly impressive, but perhaps enough to tip Vigilance over the edge. There was no doubting that they had found something in the labyrinth, something magical, and had three mages in their midst. Perhaps that would prove the key to success and, if not, it was the Cards out front. No doubt if they got obliterated Vigilance would shed a tear for his sister as he ordered his men to flee.

  Just as well there was no time to explain what we found. The man might be less confident after hearing ‘we’ve piss-all clue what this is, but it was all shiny earlier’.

  ‘The main part of the building is there,’ Sitain muttered to herself. ‘So I need to …’

  ‘Sure you can do this through a wall?’

  ‘We better hope so, unless you want to try every room individually.’

  ‘Good point.’ Lynx stepped back. ‘Any time you want then.’

  She gave him a sharp look but didn’t bother replying, just placed one hand against the wall and the other past the corner, directed towards the other part of the block. Eyes closed, Sitain bowed her head and took a few long breaths. In moments the air began to faintly shudder and distort around her, shadows turning in on themselves as the night magic surged out of her.

  Lynx felt his breath catch as the shadows took on sharp edges, twisting and flittering like the wings of a butterfly. He’d seen this before not long after meeting Sitain – an elemental, night magic made incarnate. Shadowshard, that’s what Lastani had called it.

  The black shards seemed to radiate out from Sitain as the flow of magic increased, unfurling like wings from all parts of her torso and disappearing through the wall ahead. He felt a furious itch crawl across his skin, scratching once at his hand then catching himself. The sensation slipped like oil all over his body, but after that first moment it was strangely pleasant, not a maddening irritation.

  As he looked. the tattoo on his hand suddenly glowed again with the cold shine of starlight. Quickly, Lynx pulled up his jacket to look at his stomach where the tattoos ran down it – those too were now bright again.

  He opened his mouth to say something to Sitain before realising that, though half her body was now hidden by knapped fragments of darkness, she was also glowing. Her tattoos shone even through her shirt and were inscribed on the shadow shards of her magic, white lines traced clearly on the deepest black.

  Then he felt her reach out, summoning her strength to drag yet more magic into her saturated body. This was no grand working, that much Lynx could tell, just a tidal wave of power about to be cast forward at the building and the soldiers inside it. His own tattoos seemed to jolt on his skin as Sitain reached higher, tugging him towards her and suddenly he felt … something flow out of his skin, as though he was a mage himself. Lynx gasped but could find no words for anything more. He simply stood there, astonished and enraptured as a power he’d never guessed at flowed through his body.

  All of a sudden Lynx found himself able to feel Sitain’s presence on his skin, like they were connected by a thousand spider-threads – the shape of her body, mind and thoughts. Nothing clear, but the strongest sense of ‘her’ as though they had grown up twins. Before he could do anything o
r make sense of it all, his body was ablaze with awareness of the others too. Lastani an icy sculpture in his mind, elegant and intricate, while Atieno was a roiling, shifting figure of smoke. Then those who weren’t mages too – Toil’s sharp edges and iron will, Teshen’s cold heart and raptor focus, Safir’s grace and the kernel of bitterness hidden deep inside …

  He could feel them all, their minds crashing into his like the weight of some ancient shield wall, sweeping him up in their momentum and charging on towards Sitain. She embraced their power as it struck and added it to her own, blackness threatening to overwhelm Lynx’s mind for an instant before it was all hurled away. The world seemed to be split in two – that wave of shadowy power bursting forth to engulf everything in its path even as Lynx was hurled backwards to his own body.

  He staggered as though physically punched and found himself blinking and gasping for air. Ahead of him the night mage crashed to her knees. As for the building, there was no change, but Lynx could sense the power move like a fireball scorching the night. The power had been immense, so many more times more powerful than any magic he’d ever witnessed. He felt his hands shake at what it might mean – at how they’d been changed – but right now Sitain needed him again. He took a few unsteady steps, driven mostly by will, before recovering himself and sweeping Sitain up just before she flopped to the ground.

  ‘Shattered gods,’ she croaked, looking up at Lynx with unfocused eyes.

  ‘Let’s hope they didn’t notice,’ he said, only half-joking. ‘Best they don’t think they’ve got a rival on their hands.’

  Her tattoos were still glowing and he could feel the ebbing magic tremble through her bones. It waxed briefly as his skin touched hers, but then continued to fade as the light of their skin dimmed.

  Lynx headed back out of the gate, Sitain in his arms, and he saw the Cards closing fast – the shine of several tattoos clearly visible in the dawn light. Before he’d even reached them a volley of barely hushed voices rang out.