Suddenly Anais clasped Kaiku’s hand in her own, a grip so strong that Kaiku might have been an anchor to keep her from floating away. Her eyes were unfocused, and she was not seeing.
‘I am frightened . . .’ she sobbed. ‘Gods, I am frightened . . .’
Kaiku stroked her hair, smearing a trail of blood into it. ‘Shh,’ she said. ‘Dying is not so bad.’
But whether the Empress heard her or not, she never knew, for the light in her eyes had gone out, and with a final sigh she sagged.
‘Good journey,’ Kaiku whispered, and tears fell from her lashes. It was only when she looked up again that she saw the ravens, surrounding them in a black tide, a blanket of feathers and beaks and eyes, all turned to the Heir-Empress.
‘We must go,’ Tane said suddenly. He rolled the Empress ungraciously aside and picked up the child, hefting her easily despite the illness that had weakened him. The ravens fluttered in consternation, but he ignored them. ‘I can’t help her here. She needs a physician.’
Kaiku did not reply, but she rose to her feet, her gaze still on the dead woman that lay before her. She was beginning to feel the incipient burn of using her kana, coming on savagely in response to the effort it had taken to focus her energy on such a small target – the Emperor’s hand. What thoughts passed through her then, even she could not say; but then she turned and followed Tane as he ran back into the Keep, the fallen heir to Saramyr couched in his arms.
THIRTY-THREE
The Imperial Keep was in turmoil.
The bombs that had been set to sow chaos and confusion had been more effective than any of the usurpers could have imagined. Scholars raced to save precious manuscripts or works of art from rooms threatened by flame; servants rushed to and fro with water from the pipes to quench the hungry fires; children ran bawling in search of their mothers. The Imperial Guards were in disarray. Since they were unable to trust even their own ranks, they could not mount any kind of coherent operation. The Imperial Family had been taken away into hiding, and none knew where they were. A body had been discovered at the base of the Tower of the North Wind, but it was so flayed by ravens that there was little more than a bloodied skeleton remaining. It would not be for many hours that the rings on the corpse’s fingers would be recognised as those of Durun tu Batik, former Emperor of Saramyr. The Empress’s body was discovered shortly after; but by then it was far, far too late.
It had all got out of control. The bombs and the madness were necessary to provide a cover so the Empress and her Aberrant spawn could be killed in secret, and their murder credibly blamed on somebody else. Now it worked against its instigators, for amid the confusion nobody stopped for two servants carrying an injured girl. Not many in the Keep had ever seen the Heir-Empress, and few would recognise her in this state if they did, with her clothes burned and her face covered by her hair. Slightly more remarkable was the fact that one of the servants was a woman dressed in man’s clothes, and that she stumbled along with her eyes bound by a torn rag of cloth and her hand on her sickly-looking companion’s shoulder, evidently blinded by some shard of stone thrown by an explosion. But better the people of the Keep should see that than an Aberrant; for Kaiku’s eyes were blood-red in the aftermath of using her kana, and would not fade for hours yet. The concentration involved in focusing her power to destroy only Durun’s hand had drained her to exhaustion; and even then, she had failed. The Heir-empress lay unconscious and burned because she could not control the force within her well enough, and if she died it would be on Kaiku’s head. She did not think she could bear the weight of that guilt.
So they hurried along as best they could, following Tane’s memory back to the servants’ quarters where Purloch waited for them. They had no time to think what might have become of the others. There was only flight.
((Asara!))
Asara pulled Mishani to a halt, dragging her to the side of the corridor behind a statue of Yoru, guardian of the Gates of Omecha, with his wine jug raised high. The cool, austere thoroughfares of the Imperial Keep had become manic now, and servants and soldiers rushed and clattered by, to and fro, boots clicking on lach, shouting commands and questions. They were in one of the interior corridors, where there were no outside windows, and even high-ceilinged and wide as it was, it felt terribly claustrophobic.
Both of them were sweaty and dishevelled. Their escape from the throne room had been a narrow thing, but the Imperial Guards had no interest in a noble lady and her handmaiden while they were locked in combat with each other. The loyal and the traitorous had become mixed and mingled hopelessly, and after Barak Mos had fled the battleground degenerated into a free-for-all. The robed advisors and scribes trapped in the room were ignored, and Mishani and Asara slipped away with them once their route was clear. One Guard had raised his sword to stop them, but Asara had killed him barehanded in an eyeblink. Mishani still could not credit what she had seen, but astonishment was something that would have to wait. For now, she wanted only to escape this place. The pronouncement of her execution had shaken her enough so that she cared little about the Heir-Empress or the plans of the Libera Dramach at this moment; she needed only safety and sanctuary.
‘What is it?’ she asked, a little shocked at being roughly taken aside by Asara. She was not accustomed to being manhandled like that by anyone. The Aberrant lady hushed her.
((Asara.))
It was Cailin. This was not the first time the Sister had spoken to Asara from afar, and it did not perturb her now as it had in the beginning.
She concentrated a stream of images, recalling in a jumbled order what had happened to them, making it as clear as she could. There was no way for her to speak directly to Cailin – she did not have the mechanisms in her to send words – but impressions would be enough.
Cailin understood. She replied with another set of images, these ones embedded with instructions and information.
‘What is it?’ Mishani persisted.
Asara blinked, and the contact was gone. ‘Cailin,’ she said. ‘She has done away with Vyrrch, and she has a free hand across the Keep. She is our eyes now.’ She turned back the other way. ‘We have something we must do.’
‘What must we do?’ Mishani’s tone made it clear that she was not moving, and certainly not back towards the heart of the Keep.
‘Kaiku and Tane have the Heir-Empress,’ Asara said. ‘We have to find them. Cailin will lead us there.’
‘Kaiku?’ Mishani said, and they were on their way.
Another explosion rumbled through the Keep, making the walls shake. This one was no bomb, but the stores of ignition powder down in the cellars. Kaiku stumbled and fell as they were crossing an intersection between two corridors, into the path of a frightened group of servant women who almost trampled her. The sound of running feet and the clank of armour came after, and Tane saw with a thrill of horror that a group of Imperial Guards was racing towards them. He shifted Lucia’s weight to one arm and used the other to grab Kaiku and haul her to one side, then huddled down with her, shielding the Heir-Empress with his body as the Guards rushed by. They paid him no attention.
Kaiku’s eyelids were drooping behind the cloth rag that concealed her eyes, her head lolling forward on to her breast. ‘I cannot go on,’ she said. ‘I am so tired.’
Tane would not listen. The fever that had settled in his bones only seemed to make him more determined not to tire, more unforgiving of weakness; his or hers. Though he sweated and his skin seemed taut and yellowish, he would not allow himself to succumb, and was driving himself ever harder. Relinquishing Lucia for a moment, he dragged Kaiku to her feet. She moaned in protest. ‘Be quiet,’ he hissed, at the sound of new footsteps. He lifted Lucia up, put Kaiku’s hand back on his shoulder, and they went on.
For Kaiku it was a descent into nightmare that was becoming all too familiar. The awful burning, the empty void left inside her after her kana had broken free stole her will to do anything but lie where she was and sleep. One day, unless she learned to
tame it, it would be the death of her. It might already have been the death of the Heir-Empress, and the hopes of the Libera Dramach. She staggered in Tane’s wake, hating him for forcing her to run when she could be asleep, hating herself for being so selfish when there was a child in his arms who could be dying even now.
Tane moved with certainty; after many years of finding his way through forests, the ordered corridors of the Keep presented no problem to him. Under his guidance, they made their way rapidly down into the lower levels, heading for the servants’ quarters. Every new person that passed them by brought a fresh dread; every pair of eyes looking them over might recognise the child he carried, and that would be the end for them. But time and again their luck held, and they passed through the confusion unchallenged.
‘Tane! Kaiku!’
They jumped at the sound of their names, but trepidation turned to relief as they recognised the voice. They paused on the narrow stairs they were descending, and from behind them came Asara and Mishani. The reek of hot smoke rose from below, but that was to be expected; they were almost into the corridors where Cailin waited.
‘Kaiku, are you hurt?’ Mishani cried, seeing the binding around Kaiku’s eyes. Kaiku slumped, but Asara caught her and bore her up.
‘She has used her kana,’ Asara said. ‘It drains her. She just needs sleep.’
Mishani’s eyes flickered from her friend to the child in Tane’s arms, then to Tane himself. He looked sick; his gaze was grey and bleak. He feared for the Heir-Empress.
‘There is no time to waste,’ Mishani said, deciding all questions could wait. ‘We must go.’
And with that, they plunged down into the depths of the servants’ quarters. Poisonous fumes undulated in thin veils along the ceiling. Distant wails and calls for help reached them faintly, even over the dull whine that had muted Kaiku’s ears after she had been near-deafened by an earlier bomb. The walls had reverted to rough brick rather than varnished wood or lach; bits of rubble were scattered around their feet. People they passed were grimed with smoke and sweat, and the heat was almost intolerable. It was not so cramped here as the first time Kaiku and Tane had passed through it, for those who could escape had already done so, leaving behind only the wounded and those who were willing to try and help them.
They were beginning to hope they might make it back to the old donjon where Purloch waited when they ran into three Imperial Guards.
It was pure bad luck that placed them in the path of the four companions and their supine burden. The Guards had escaped the fighting in the throne room, their courage failing them in the confusion of not knowing who was an ally and who was the enemy, and they had fled down into the servants’ chambers to avoid the bloodshed going on above. Their intention – if they were faced with a superior officer – was to offer the explanation of digging out those trapped by the blazing rubble; but ill fortune had brought the kidnappers right to them, and whether they were loyal or traitors, they would not allow the Heir-Empress to leave the Keep if they recognised her.
Tane, in the lead, almost bowled into the Guards as the companions rushed into a plain, square stone room that formed a junction between three corridors. Wooden drying racks hung from the ceiling, and clothes hung from them in turn, now bone-dry and crinkling in the heat. The coarse brown bricks of the walls had cracked in places from nearby bomb-blasts, and the floor was dusted with powder and chips of rock.
They were too surprised by the presence of soldiers down here to keep the guilt off their faces. Mishani was the honourable exception, but her efforts did no good.
‘What’s that?’ one of them said, his rifle already aimed at Tane. The other two raised their own rifles, more in alarm at the violent arrival of the newcomers than in any expectation of a threat. They were jumpy, for it would mean their necks if their cowardice were discovered. The three of them were sweating heavily, baking inside their metal armour, the white and blue lacquer streaked with dirt.
‘She is hurt!’ Tane cried. ‘Let us by!’
‘I saw you in the throne room,’ said one of the other Guards, his eyes ranging over Asara. They flicked to Mishani. ‘You too. The Empress sentenced you to death.’
Neither Tane nor Kaiku reacted to the news. Tane’s mind was racing through options of escape, but it was sluggish with fever and would not deliver; Kaiku was almost comatose on her feet.
‘And you should be with her, not down here with the servants,’ Mishani replied smoothly. ‘Unless, that is, you are false Guards, like the other traitors who tried to take our Empress’s life.’
Tane quailed inwardly at her boldness, but it made the Guards pause for a moment. They were evidently weighing their loyalties, deciding on the best response to the accusation.
‘That girl,’ said the Guard who had spoken to Tane. ‘Look at her clothes. She’s no servant.’
‘It’s the Heir-Empress,’ the second one said, his voice dull with menace.
‘It can’t be!’ said the third.
The second narrowed his eyes. ‘I’ve done duty in the Heir-Empress’s chambers before,’ he said. ‘It’s her.’
Tane felt a nausea creep into his gut as the first Guard turned a sickly smile upon Mishani.
‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Then Shintu smiles on us, for that child is a monster, and she must die.’ He put the rifle to his shoulder, pointed it squarely at Tane and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The powder did not ignite. It was a misfire.
The expectation of the shot caused everyone to hesitate; except for Asara. She had covered the distance between her and the nearest Guard in a moment, her elbow smashing into his jaw as she grabbed the barrel of his rifle with her other hand, twisting it out of his grip. It fired with a percussive crack, blasting a spume of grey dust from the stone wall next to his companion’s head, causing him to shy back with an oath of alarm. Tane shoved the child into Kaiku’s arms, who was too weak to hold her, and the pair of them tumbled to the ground. By then the Guard who had misfired had his sword drawn, his rifle cast aside; but Tane was ready for him. He darted inside the Guard’s thrust, grabbing him by the arm and swinging him heavily into the wall. There was not enough force behind it, his fever-burned muscles failing him. The Guard grunted and lashed out with an armoured knee, catching Tane in the gut; it hurt, but it did not knock the breath out of him. Mishani pulled Kaiku out of the way, dragging her into the corner of the smoky room, leaving the unconscious Heir-Empress lying where she had fallen.
Asara’s enemy was putting up more of a fight than she had anticipated, and whereas her first blow would have finished most men, this one was particularly resilient. He threw her back, trying to get his rifle in between them, but she knocked it away again. Quicker and stronger than she seemed, she grabbed his forearm and levered it up his back, then tripped him so he fell with his full weight on it. The bone snapped loudly, and his scream of pain was silenced as Asara drove her sandalled foot into his face, smashing the gristle of his nose into his brain.
At the same time, Tane shoved his own opponent away from him, pushing him off-balance towards Asara. He was about to make a follow-up strike while the advantage was his when out of the periphery of his eye he saw the third Guard raise his rifle, and looked to see what he was aiming at.
His first thought was that it might be Kaiku, but she was too weak to be a threat, and her eyes were still bound. Mishani had her in the corner, out of harm’s way. It was not them that the Guard was aiming at. It was the Heir-Empress, lying unprotected in the middle of the floor.
Tane howled an oath, sprinting at the Guard; but he was too far away, too late to prevent the trigger from being pulled, the hammer to fall, the powder to ignite. But he was not too late to fling himself in front of it.
The force was like a giant’s hand slapping him in the chest, blasting him back to tumble over the small body of Lucia, knocking his breath from him in a white blaze of agony. He was aware of falling, but the air had turned to a cloud of feathers and he seemed to f
loat slowly down; and while the impact of the floor hurt more than he could have imagined it would at that speed, it was overwhelmed by the soft cushion of shock that had settled into him.
He heard someone scream his name, but all he saw was the incomprehensible, idiot shapes of the washing above him, hanging from the drying racks and swaying in the smoky haze.
A gun fired, primed, fired again; two bodies fell. Mishani and Asara jerked about as one to find the source of the sound, and there was Yugi, a rifle in his hand, and Zaelis next to him in the doorway. The last two Guards lay inert on the stone floor. Kaiku had scrambled across the room, tearing off her blindfold, desperation lending her strength from some untapped reserve, and she was screaming Tane’s name. Tane could barely hear her. All sounds had become dull, muffled. His body felt numb.
Mishani pulled the child out from under him and handed her to Zaelis. His expression was grim as he looked her over; he exchanged a glance with Yugi. They had feared for the Heir-Empress when they had reached the roof gardens and found that Lucia had been taken away by Rudrec at Durun’s command; but hope had returned when Cailin had contacted them and directed them to where the others were. Now he saw how badly hurt Lucia was, and that hope faded again. Things looked graver still.
‘Bring him back! Asara, bring him back!’ Kaiku was crying.
Asara came to stand over her. She looked down at Tane. His eyes were on something above them, focusing and unfocusing wildly. His tanned skin had gone ghastly and pallid. A bright bloom of black and red soaked his chest, and she could see from the way it ran out from beneath him that the rifle ball had gone right through.
‘I cannot,’ she said.
‘Bring him back!’ she screamed, picking him up and holding him. If she had possessed an ounce of kana she would have used it, no matter what the consequences. To try and stitch his wound, sew up his insides, make him whole again. She had taken him so much for granted, this man; he had been her companion since he had found her in the forest, and she had given him nothing back, closing herself off from him. In that moment when she held him, she knew it was too late to make amends. Though her tears and her voice denied it, she knew his time was come, and no artifice of hers or anyone else’s could undo it.
The Braided Path: The Weavers of Saramyr, The Skein of Lament and the Ascendancy Veil Page 41
