The Storyteller

by Traci Chee

  Archer was silent, and Sefia knew she’d made a point he couldn’t refute.

  But he was right. The Book surely had traps in store for them. They might be able to evade some, but destiny always caught them, one way or another. Would getting Stonegold and the key be worth the consequences they couldn’t foresee?

  The key could end the war. The key could save Archer. Anything was worth that.

  It wasn’t until evening, as the outlaws and the bloodletters loaded their ships with the last of their provisions, that Archer spoke again.

  “Okay,” he told her. “Let’s act now, before the Alliance grows any stronger. If we take Stonegold from them, they’ll be leaderless. They might even be weak enough that the Royal Navy will be able to defeat them on their own.”

  Sefia nodded. “And the war might end.”

  Sighing, he took her hands. “Be careful. The Book will want to manipulate us into doing what it wants.”

  But using it could save thousands of people from battle. So she opened it. At that very moment, the Director was on the deck of the Barbaro, surrounded by Alliance soldiers, with General Terezina at his side.

  She and Archer exchanged glances. They were good, but they didn’t want to try fighting the Guard’s Master Soldier. They needed to catch Stonegold when he was unguarded, for he was a Politician, less skilled in Illumination than other Guardians, and alone, he’d be no match against them.

  They waited. They set sail for Oxscini aboard the Brother. When Sefia opened the Book next, it was nearing midnight, and King Darion Stonegold was in the Barbaro’s great cabin, alone.

  She slid her knives into her belt. Capture the Director, she thought. Take his key. Steal the pages from the Library vault. She buckled her cuff of sleeping darts to her wrist.

  Archer sharpened his sword and loaded Lightning with bullets.

  End the war.

  Archer lives.

  Together, they teleported into danger.

  The great cabin on the Barbaro was great indeed. Decked out in rugs of blue-and-gold silk, with wall-to-wall stained glass windows at the stern, it was brimming with portraits of lords and ladies, bronze busts on marble pedestals, sofas upholstered in the finest brocade. Porcelain urns flanked a siege door affixed with a hinged plank that would swing down, locking into a set of brackets to barricade the cabin in the event of an attack.

  Dominating the center of the room was an enormous oak desk and, behind it, an equally enormous man. He had thinning blond hair, shrewd eyes, and wore a blue uniform adorned with medals and ribbons from his years fighting in Everica.

  King Darion Stonegold, Director of the Guard and Leader of the Alliance.

  “My traitor Apprentice is adjusting well to the drug,” he was saying in an indolent tenor. “Ah . . . We’ve been expecting you.”

  Beside Sefia, Archer drew his sword.

  Seated in a chair on the near side of the desk was a thin man in black with wrinkles and sun-spotted cheeks. He rose as Stonegold’s voice trailed off, his eyes never leaving Sefia. “So this is my Apprentice’s daughter,” he said.

  She knew that voice—dry, brittle, cold. She’d heard it only once before, the day Nin was taken. Cowering in the undergrowth, she hadn’t seen his face, but she’d heard him. She’d smelled him, as she smelled him now, the scent of metal wafting from the scabbard that hung at his side.

  The First. The Guard’s Master Assassin. The man who’d taught her mother to kill. He wasn’t supposed to be here. The Director was supposed to be alone.

  The Book had tricked her again.

  “How—” Her own voice sounded small, weak.

  “You may have the Book,” said Stonegold. “But we have the Librarian and, at his fingertips, the Library. He warned us of your murderous intent.”

  The Book hadn’t warned her about the First, but Erastis had warned the Director of the attack. Did he know about the key too? Could she and Archer still get it? Catching his eye, she gestured to her neck. He nodded.

  Everyone acted at once.

  Archer leapt over one of the couches as the First kicked his chair aside. There was a flash of copper as the bloodsword emerged from its sheath.

  Lifting her hands, Sefia barricaded the door. The reinforced plank slammed into its bracket just as the Alliance guards tried to burst in from outside.

  Clang, clang. Across the cabin, Archer and the Assassin fought, their swords shearing off each other, their feet quick on the carpet.

  Drawing a gold revolver from a side holster, Stonegold shot at her. With a flick of her wrist, Sefia sent the bullet spinning back at him. Not to kill him. She only wanted to slow him long enough for her to steal the key.

  But before the bullet reached him, the threads of the Illuminated world warped. The bullet struck the wall to her right, splintering a portrait frame.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sefia saw the First’s fingers come down. He was protecting his Director and fighting Archer at the same time. Stabbing, dodging, parrying, they were like dancers. A beautiful, complicated whirlwind of metal and blood.

  Archer jumped back as the edge of the blade slit his trouser leg.

  The Master Assassin was old, but he was fast. He might have even been faster than Archer.

  Sefia hoped not.

  She threw out her palms, shoving the heavy oak desk into Stonegold’s stomach. A whuff of air went out of him as the massive piece of furniture scraped along the wooden floor, pinning him to the stained glass windows.

  He grunted, fumbling for his second sidearm, as she grabbed at the air, trying to lift his necklace from inside the collar of his blue uniform.

  But the First pushed the desk back at her, hurling it across the floor so fast she had to dive aside to avoid being crushed.

  It slammed into the barred door behind her and she rolled to her feet as the Director drew his second revolver and began to fire. Bullets whizzed through the air as Sefia deflected them into the ceiling, the walls, the sofas and portraits and ornamental vases.

  But she couldn’t stop them all.

  One caught her in the hand, ripping through the muscle of her palm.

  She didn’t even feel the pain at first. She narrowed her eyes, flinging Stonegold sideways into the wall. He fell to the floor like a sack of bricks.

  Sefia started forward, flexing her hand as blood dripped down her wrist and arm. At least her fingers still worked.

  But before she could reach Stonegold’s unconscious form, a bronze bust flew past her, smashing into the wall at her right.

  She turned in time to see Archer slice the First across the arm. She smiled. Archer was the best fighter she’d ever seen. He was fast and strong, and he could read a fight the same way she could read a paragraph.

  But her smile faded from her lips as the Assassin parried his next slash and struck him in the face with the hilt of his bloodsword.

  Archer staggered back, shaking his head. His eyes couldn’t seem to focus.

  Quick—too quick for Sefia to stop it—the Master Assassin pivoted, cutting Archer across the thigh. Raising his free hand, the First used Illumination to knock Archer off his feet.

  Archer landed flat on his back, with the Assassin standing over him, blade raised to strike.

  * * *

  • • •

  Nick his shins. Get to your feet. Somewhere in the back of his clouded mind, Archer knew how to stop the First from killing him. But he couldn’t make his body obey.

  Use your blade. It’s still in your hand.

  His fingers tightened on the grip of his sword as the First moved to attack.

  But before either of them could strike, Archer was sliding across the floor, out of the First’s reach.

  Sefia.

  Archer rolled onto his side in time to see the Assassin pull down the splintered portrait hanging above her. She sid
estepped—right into the path of the bust the First hurled at her. It smashed into her thigh, making her fall to her knees.

  Archer scrambled up as the Master Assassin advanced on her.

  She pulled a couch between them.

  He shoved it aside.

  Archer drew Lightning from its holster. A quick shot to each leg, and he could stop the First right now. They just had to slow the Assassin long enough to get the key and get out of there.

  Throwing out her hands, Sefia yanked the blue-and-gold rug out from under the First.

  He jumped.

  Archer fired.

  With a flick of his fingers, the Master Assassin sent the bullet speeding toward Sefia, who barely managed to duck in time.

  Archer was already running across the cabin when he saw the gunshot hit the wall behind Sefia’s head.

  He holstered his gun. It’ll be blades and fists, then. Leaping into the air, he grabbed the hilt of his weapon with both hands and slashed downward.

  The First countered, their blades meeting with such force that Archer was knocked back.

  The Assassin was fast. Archer had never met anyone so fast. Both he and Sefia were injured, bruised and bleeding, but the First was as composed as he’d been when they entered.

  The Master Assassin launched the broken side table at Sefia, who rolled out of the way.

  Could they beat him?

  Archer’s gaze met Sefia’s as she got to her feet.

  She nodded.

  They had to try. If they didn’t, they might never get the key.

  Archer slashed at the First, who parried and countered, cutting sideways. Ducking, Archer felt the bloodsword miss him by a hair. But the Assassin’s face was exposed. Archer launched himself upward, striking the man in the jaw with his fist.

  He felt the flesh crumple. He felt something crack.

  Finally.

  Wiping blood from his lip, the Master Assassin gave Archer an approving nod.

  Then all three of them were at it again: Archer swinging, lunging, stabbing; Sefia pulling, wrenching; the First evading every attack, parrying every blow.

  He broke Sefia’s ribs.

  He cut Archer in the side of the chest.

  Crack, crack, crack. Their blades met again and again, and no matter how quick Archer was, no matter what Sefia threw across the room, the Master Assassin continued to outdo them, blocking and attacking, deflecting and feinting, until at last Archer ducked a slash, trying to strike upward the way he’d done before, and caught a knee in the face. He stumbled, lights popping in his vision as he saw the Assassin fling Sefia into the wall.

  No.

  Archer was a cage fighter whose skill in combat had made him a legend. Sefia was a sorcerer who’d massacred over a hundred people in a single night. But against the Master Assassin, they were outmatched.

  And the longer they stayed, the more likely they were to be killed.

  “Sefia, can you get to me?” Archer called as she got to her feet, holding her head with her bleeding hand.

  She looked grim, but she nodded. “I can try.”

  The First said nothing—he merely reached for his empty scabbard.

  Archer’s eyes narrowed. Was it empty? The Assassin made a motion as if he were drawing a weapon, but Archer couldn’t see anything in the man’s closed hand.

  His thoughts spun. The Assassins could make gloves that tripled the strength of a blow. They could make swords that drank blood. Could they make a blade disappear?

  The First attacked, the bloodsword carving copper arcs through the air. Archer blocked the first strike, but something else, something invisible, cut him across the chest.

  He stepped back, bleeding. “Sefia, can you see a second weapon?”

  “Yes!” She raced past Stonegold’s unconscious form, along the stained glass windows.

  The Assassin pivoted, keeping his body between Sefia and Archer.

  Archer’s gaze skipped from one of the First’s hands to the other. “Is it shorter or longer than the bloodsword?”

  “Shorter. The length of his arm.”

  That would mean the point of the invisible blade was a little over two feet from the Master Assassin’s closed fist.

  Archer swung as Sefia reached out with her magic.

  Ducking her grip, the First blocked Archer’s attack and cut him across the leg with the invisible weapon.

  Archer stumbled back, hissing.

  Reaching their side of the cabin, Sefia flung a throwing knife. Whirling the bloodsword, the Assassin deflected it easily.

  But Archer took advantage of the distraction. His sword cut through the air, striking the invisible blade. There you are. But when he swung again, he hit nothing but air.

  The First countered, slicing Archer across the shoulder, but he was forced back as Sefia dragged a couch between them.

  Now was their chance to escape.

  Archer dashed for her. They’d almost made it to each other when the Assassin leapt over the sofa, his blades slicing through the air, driving them apart again.

  Archer jumped back, but Sefia wasn’t quick enough. The bloodsword cut her.

  Once in the shoulder.

  Once across the face.

  She cried out, clutching her right eye. Blood ran between her fingers as she fell back.

  Archer ran at the First, swinging. His sword sheared off the invisible blade. A slash, a cut, a step, and he was close enough to punch the man in the side.

  The air went out of him, but the Master Assassin still spun the bloodsword, trying to stab Archer through the stomach. Archer twisted aside just in time and brought the hilt of his weapon crashing into the Assassin’s face.

  Archer slashed again.

  But the First was too fast. His invisible weapon came up, flicking Archer’s sword aside. He lost his grip on the weapon. It clattered to the floor.

  Archer’s front was unprotected.

  The bloodsword was arcing through the air.

  Pain seared through him as the blade sliced him deep across the chest. He fell backward into the couch as the First came at him again.

  * * *

  • • •

  Through her bloodied vision, Sefia saw Archer’s weapon fall. She saw the bloodsword carve him open. She saw the invisible sword, glittering in the Illuminated world, raised to deliver the killing blow.

  And she couldn’t let that happen.

  She hadn’t teleported before now out of fear that she’d leave Archer exposed. But Archer was already exposed.

  Was she fast enough?

  She had to be.

  She pressed the latch on her silver ring and teleported.

  She appeared in a crouch at the First’s feet. As she expected, the Assassin sensed her coming. He turned the blow from the invisible sword aside, slicing her across the back.

  But she felt the resistance of the fabric as her mother’s ring cut his trouser leg.

  Did it pierce his flesh?

  She didn’t have time to check. Flinging out her other hand, she rolled out of the way as she pulled Archer’s sword from the floor.

  It flew through the air, hilt smacking into his open palm.

  Clang! Archer’s blade met the First’s. He parried and feinted, but the Master Assassin didn’t move to counter. Something was wrong.

  The muscles in the Assassin’s neck went taut. His face twisted as he gasped for air.

  Archer cut his wrist. The invisible sword fell. The First moved to catch it, but Sefia seized his fingers in her magical grip.

  In the Illuminated world, she saw his bones pop.

  Then, in a cold burst of wind, Tanin appeared in the center of the cabin. Like the Assassin, she was dressed in black, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck.

  For
a moment, Sefia was reminded of her mother.

  But the illusion was gone in an instant.

  Tanin was thinner than she’d been when Sefia saw her at Haven. Her jaw was mottled with greenish-yellow bruises. There were nicks and cuts on her hands and dark circles beneath her gray eyes.

  What had the Guard done to her?

  She moved differently now, sizing up the room, her gaze lingering briefly on the invisible sword. “Did you know they were coming?” she whispered. “Why wasn’t I here?”

  The Master Assassin cut her with a glance. “The Director didn’t think you could do what had to be done.”

  Picking up the invisible weapon, she and the First came together, back to back. Bleeding, Archer fought them off as Sefia pulled at their arms and legs.

  But the fight was quick, because the Master Assassin’s face contorted. His back arched. The bloodsword dropped, landing on the floor as Tanin and Archer pivoted away, blades clashing.

  “You—” His rasping voice was cut off as a convulsion seized him, bringing him to his knees, his fingers twitching.

  Straightening, Sefia lifted her hand. Her mother’s silver ring flashed. “Me,” she said grimly.

  Another kill. Another soul she was sending beyond the barrier to the world of the dead.

  To her surprise, the First laughed. It sounded like the crackle of embers. “Do you know how the Apprentice Assassin becomes the Master?” he asked.

  But Sefia wasn’t listening. She was throwing Tanin aside and racing across the ruined cabin into Archer’s bloodied arms. He was clutching her to him. She was sweeping her arms wide, searching the waves of the Illuminated world for a safe landing.

  She teleported as another spasm wracked the Master Assassin’s body. “By killing him,” he whispered. “It should have been your mother, but I can’t say I’m disappointed it was you.”

  CHAPTER 25

  The Last Time

  Reeling, Sefia collapsed in the Brother’s sick bay as Doc raced to close the deep gash the First had opened on Archer’s chest. Her ribs throbbed. Her hand was still bleeding. She couldn’t see out of her right eye; she didn’t even know if she’d ever be able to use it again. But despite her injuries, she felt only shock.