by Den Patrick
It would be for the best if you concentrated on the father of dragons.
‘And it would be better still if you remembered that I don’t take orders from you.’ Kimi gave the cinderwraith a hard look.
‘Easy now, Kimi,’ said Tief. ‘He was just suggesting the most efficient way to tackle this gigantic mess.’
You have one of the Ashen Blades. I can sense it nearby. The blade that Veles stole from Bittervinge.
‘Of course. I couldn’t leave an artefact of such power lying on a hillside in Izhoria, no matter how much I despise it.’
Give it to me, Kimi, so that I may strike the Emperor down. Let me be your champion.
‘I don’t need a man to get my vengeance for me.’
Namarii unfolded his wings and stretched out his neck, his imposing presence magnified by the small cove. Silverdust knew this was for his benefit, to intimidate him, but he persisted all the same.
Kimi, I understand your anger, but I am not sure I can kill the Emperor without the knife.
‘That’s not my problem,’ said Kimi, turning her back on Silverdust. Tief stared at her in surprise.
Even now Steiner hunts the Emperor. He will perish without the Ashen Blade.
The princess paused before looking over her shoulder. ‘Steiner never ran into a fight he couldn’t win or run away from. He’s the Unbroken, remember?’
He will perish.
‘The Ashen Blade stays with me. I’ll kill the Emperor and then I’ll kill Bittervinge.’
I would advise against that—
‘Because I’m a woman? Because I’m a princess who’s not supposed to get her hands dirty?’
Neither of those things. It is because I sense your reluctance to use the blade, which is wise. The cinderwraith moved closer and held out his hand. Please, Your Highness. You do not understand the nature of the blade’s power.
Kimi Enkhtuya, Princess of the Red Hand Tribe, disowned sister of the High King Tsen-Baina Jet, stepped forward until her face was separated from Silverdust’s mirror mask by a hand’s span.
‘I understand well enough, and I will have my vengeance. The Ashen Blade stays with me.’
Silverdust realized there could be no reasoning with her and lowered his hand. Kimi stalked away, boots crunching loudly on the stony beach.
‘What will happen to her if she uses the blade?’ asked Tief quietly.
The blade will confer the life of the victim upon the bearer. The more powerful the victim the more life the bearer gains.
‘That doesn’t sound so bad,’ replied Tief. ‘I reckon we could all use a few more years to look forward to.’
A long life brings its own complications and there are things worse than death. I hope I will see you again, Tief.
‘I hope I’ll see you again too,’ replied Tief. ‘Never thought I’d ever say that to a Vigilant.’
All things change, Tief. You must make sure she carries the knife with her. She speaks of vengeance but a reluctance remains. It will do no good if she keeps it bundled up in the bottom of her pack.
‘I’ll keep an eye on her,’ replied Tief, watching Kimi as she tended to Namarii’s minor wounds. ‘I can’t promise anything, mind, but then who can?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Steiner
It is important to remember that Vinterkveld and the Solmindre Empire were never seen as safe places, even before the uprisings. There was a feeling that soldiers, Okhrana, and the Holy Synod were lurking in the shadows, ready to abduct anyone for infractions, real or imagined. Volkan Karlov encouraged this way of thinking, ruling by fear and intimidation. Sometimes the only safe place was the one within arms’ reach, if only day to day and moment to moment. Perhaps this was why Steiner was so adamant that Kristofine accompany him to Khlystburg.
– From the memoir of Drakina Tveit, Lead Librarian of Midtenjord Province
Steiner slept as much as he could but the room was thick with the smell of dried blood and old sweat. Kristofine remained asleep. Her skin had a waxy sheen to it and her eyes were haunted by dark circles. Felgenhauer had said nothing following Boyar Sokolov’s departure. Steiner assumed she was angry at having lost three of her men, and angrier still that they had not heeded her warning about Kristofine.
‘Gods damn it,’ he whispered as he sat up. He pushed the heels of his hands against his face and released something between a sigh and a grunt. Had he ever been this tired before? Or this hopeless?
The door creaked open an inch and sliver of light fell on Reka’s face in the corridor beyond. The lieutenant gestured over his shoulder with a thumb, then mimed they should drink.
‘It’s a little early for me,’ replied Steiner as he slipped through the door, closing it behind him.
‘It was early morning when we got back,’ replied Reka with a smile. ‘It’s early evening now. Seems you and your lady had a good long sleep, dragon rider.’
‘She’s doing the sleeping. I’ve been fretting in the main.’
‘Understandable,’ said Reka.
The inn was half full; conversations were little more than conspiratorial whispers or a quiet grumbling. The barkeeper spent as much time eyeing the windows as his patrons, anxious in case Bittervinge returned. A couple of drinkers stared at Steiner with sideways glances.
‘I’m not sure this is a good idea,’ said Steiner.
‘This place had a reputation for being home to more moderate thinkers back before you were taken to Vladibogdan.’
‘Even so, I don’t want to tempt fate by being seen in the open. Soldiers could arrive at any moment.’
Reka ordered food and beer at the bar in a loud voice. ‘Are you listening to me?’ pressed Steiner.
‘Perhaps we should lurk around with our hoods up, speaking in hushed tones?’ Reka grinned.
‘Why the Hel are you so cheerful?’ said Steiner.
‘I’m well aware we lost three and have another wounded, but things may not be as bad it seems with this information from the Boyar.’
‘Where’s my aunt?’ Steiner almost winced as he thought about facing her. She’d warned him that Kristofine would be wounded and now it had come to pass. That wouldn’t be easy to live down and they’d problems enough.
‘Up in her room with some of her cadre discussing what to do next. Some of the men have already crossed town to find the entrance to these catacombs the Boyar spoke of.’ Reka nodded to the barman as the tankards were set down and a few dull coins changed hands. ‘She intends to go tomorrow morning.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Steiner swore quietly and Reka gestured that he take a seat. ‘We can’t go that soon. I can’t go that soon. Not without Kristofine.’
‘Easy now.’
‘Easy? None of this is easy.’ Steiner scowled and looked away in disgust. The barkeeper approached and set down two shallow bowls of sausages and pulses swimming in a reddish broth.
‘This is the first bit of good news your aunt has had in some time,’ said Reka after the barkeeper had left them to their meal. He speared a sausage with his fork and held it up. ‘It’s only natural that she’d want to seize on it.’
‘I can’t do this without Kristofine,’ said Steiner. The anger in his voice had been replaced with a more confessional tone. ‘I can’t go to the catacombs without her.’
Reka took a long draught from his tankard. ‘You escaped from Vladibogdan without her, didn’t you?’
‘That was different,’ replied Steiner.
‘Where was Kristofine then?’
‘She was back in Cinderfell. We barely knew each other before I was taken. I’d noticed her, of course. Anyone with eyes had noticed her, but the Empire took me before we had much of a chance to spend any time together. When I got free, well, it was like being given a second chance. And I wasn’t so good or heroic that I didn’t almost make a mess of things.’
‘How so?’ said Reka.
‘She’s good with people in a way that I’ll never be, and I resented her for it. Even when it saved our liv
es I resented her for it.’ Steiner pushed his food around the plate with a fork and clenched his jaw.
‘She won’t be going to the catacombs,’ said Reka. ‘Not in the condition she’s in at the moment.’
‘Then we wait and give her time to heal.’
‘Time is a luxury you just don’t have.’ Reka shook his head ‘And with the city the way it is she’s best off elsewhere.’
‘But she’s been with me since we left Cinderfell. I don’t know what I’d do without her.’ Steiner realized he sounded very young, like a child trying to bargain or wheedle some concession or boon from a parent. ‘I feel like I’ve already lost Kjellrunn, and …’
‘And your father too.’ Reka rubbed his forehead thoughtfully a moment. ‘All the more reason to face the Emperor without her than risk losing her permanently.’
‘I’d best get back to her,’ said Steiner, unable to think of anything else to say. Reka nodded and remained to finish his beer.
Kristofine was awake when he returned to their room, though the gaze she favoured him with was heavy-lidded with sleep. Her skin was shockingly pale and there was a stillness that Steiner found unnerving. Where was his love? So vital and graceful? Where was his love with that quiet confidence and easy charm he so admired?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he sat gently on the side of the bed. He took her hand in his. ‘I nearly got you killed.’
‘Hush now. You know that’s not true. It was just bad luck is all. Maybe your aunt is right about me. A half-dozen lessons with the sword aren’t going to keep me safe during times like these.’
‘She wants to go back tomorrow morning. We’ve learned of another way in.’
‘How so?’
‘A Solmindre noble switched sides, and though he’s too old to be useful in a fight he knows a few things, including a secret way beneath the palace.’
Kristofine squeezed his hand and a ghost of a smile touched her lips. ‘You must go with her.’
Steiner shook his head, throat thick with emotion, strangling anything useful he might have thought to say. They sat together in silence for a long time and Steiner wanted desperately to hold her, but feared any movement might cause her pain.
‘I’ve made it this far with you,’ he said finally. ‘It doesn’t seem right to—’
Kristofine held up a finger and pressed it to his lips. ‘Remember how you envied me? How you wished you could rally people to your cause, our cause?’
‘Of course. I was an arsehole and I’m sorry.’
‘Well, that was my moment to do what I could. The next part is your moment, and I know you can do it. Find your father. Slay Volkan Karlov. Put an end to all this suffering.’
‘I will.’ Steiner nodded, full of resolve. ‘For both of us.’ A flicker of movement caught his eye and his gaze followed a bright flare of fire in the evening sky.
‘Bittervinge,’ whispered Kristofine.
Steiner nodded. ‘The bastard’s back.’
‘The Emperor could never defeat him,’ said Kristofine. ‘That fell to the Vartiainen family. Now you must finish what your great-grandfather started.’
Steiner stood up and rolled his shoulders. He set his gaze on the black dragon, many miles distant, who even now was terrorizing the city.’
‘You’re sure?’ he asked.
‘Go, handsome boy.’ She made a shooing gesture. ‘It isn’t as if we have a choice, is it?’ Her hand drifted to her bandage-wrapped torso.
Steiner kissed her on the forehead and retrieved his sledgehammer. In the space of a few heartbeats and a dozen steps he was outside his aunt’s room. He didn’t knock, just turned the handle and crossed the threshold. Felgenhauer had been sketching a map, surrounded by her cadre. She looked up, and for once her usually unshakable mien abandoned her.
‘What are you—?’
‘Just wanted to let you know I’m ready when you are.’
‘I thought you’d be—’
‘And I’m sorry for dragging Kristofine into this. I thought the best way to keep her safe was to keep her close. I was wrong.’
‘I see.’ Felgenhauer nodded to her men. ‘Dismissed.’ One by one they shuffled out, closing the door behind them.
‘I’m sorry I was so hard on you,’ she said, lacing her fingers together and looking away. ‘When Akulina’ – she swallowed – ‘when your mother passed away I couldn’t bear it. The pain was unlike anything I’d experienced before. I can’t protect you from everything but I wanted to spare you that at least.’
‘Grief? I already know grief. The Emperor still has Marek and I’ve no way of knowing if he’s alive or dead.’
‘We can’t get distracted. We go to kill the Emperor. We’ll find Marek after. Agreed?’ Steiner nodded but couldn’t say he felt too sure about it. ‘You should know that I never approved of your mother’s relationship with Marek,’ continued Felgenhauer. ‘There’s a good chance he hates me and I wouldn’t blame him.’
Steiner shrugged. ‘That’s the least of my worries.’
‘I didn’t make things easy for him or your mother.’
‘You can make amends for the past once we have him back.’ Steiner looked down at the crude map she’d sketched out: entrances and gateways, labyrinthine tunnels. ‘Talk me through your plan. How’s this going to work?’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ruslan
Exarch Zima had long been a notable member of the Holy Synod. He graduated with honours from the academies of Vladibogdan, though it is difficult to determine when his training began and when it ended. The Vigilant was sent to work in many provinces to quell dissent, hunt down those with witchsign, and act as an investigator. Twice he was sent to work as part of a Troika with two other Vigilants, and twice the other Vigilants perished in their duty. After that Zima worked alone, though it was not Imperial custom. Any other information about the man is non-existent. He is little more than a symbol of obedience, a cipher willing to carry out Volkan Karlov’s demands, no matter the price. Many Imperial records were destroyed as control over the continent began to unravel. The Empire, which had been founded on secrets, would retain them even as its grip on the population slackened.
– From the memoir of Drakina Tveit, Lead Librarian of Midtenjord Province
Khlystburg had never enjoyed a good reputation. It was a city of extremes, much like the man who commanded the Empire. The very richest people barely saw the starved waifs that haunted the shabbier districts. One was either insulated from poverty by one’s station and connections, or utterly mired in the drudgery that ensured another meal. Ruslan knew which of the two extremes he would occupy should Boyar Sokolov’s reign meet an abrupt end.
In the distance he could hear screaming and bells rang out in maddening, repetitive chimes, declaring a distant part of the sprawling city was alight again. Bittervinge cared not for station or connections, it seemed; he was just as likely to feed on the wealthier people of Khlystburg as the poorer ones. Even cruelty could be even-handed sometimes.
‘Much like a plague,’ said Ruslan, emerging from the doorway he’d been sheltering in. A glance at the skies confirmed he was safe for now at least. He took one last glimpse at the inn across the street. Two of the upstairs windows shone with the soft gold of candlelight. Ruslan was sure Steiner and the former Matriarch-Commissar Felgenhauer were still inside. His legs ached from standing outside, not daring to take his eyes from the inn. Heavyset, broad-shouldered men had come and gone, but there had been no sign of the dragon rider or his renegade aunt.
‘This doesn’t feel right,’ muttered Ruslan before turning his back on the place and heading back to his master. His mind raced ahead and thought of the decadence he’d seen in Lady Odessine Temmnaya’s suite earlier that morning. The more he dwelt on the depravity the more he became convinced he was on the wrong side, and yet Ruslan needed the Boyar to survive. He had no wish to end his days begging in the streets of the Voronin District with those too sick or broken to find work. ‘We should retreat to
Vend until this sorry state of affairs has reached its final conclusion,’ he confessed to the near-empty street. He had never been comfortable in his own company; an afternoon of spying alone had only encouraged him to think aloud. ‘The Emperor is doomed.’
The journey back did not take long. Ruslan wondered what the city had been like before Bittervinge’s return. The people he passed in the street barely looked up, afraid to meet his eyes. The entire population had been reduced to furtive scurrying, no better than rats waiting for some great bird of prey to swoop down and end their lives in a stuttering heartbeat. Ruslan kept track of Bittervinge as best he could on the horizon. The black-scaled terror never lingered for long in any one district, keen to share his fiery breath with anyone who took his fancy.
Ruslan reached the street where Boyar Sokolov had taken rooms and paused as he turned the corner, barely thirty feet from the end of his journey, feet sore, legs burning, as thirsty as he could remember. Exarch Zima alighted from a horse-drawn carriage, his crimson robes and savage mask unmistakable. The few people nearby, already preoccupied with the dark shadow that hunted the skies, now had something else to fear if only for a moment. Ruslan watched the Exarch enter the building, then slipped up to the door just as the housemaid was closing it.
‘It’s me. Ruslan. I’m Boyar Sokolov’s aide.’
The housemaid turned her nose up. ‘You’d best get in quick. Your master will have need of you now that awful Vigilant is here.’
Ruslan stared in shock. The Empire, and the Holy Synod in particular, had spent a long time ensuring the population of Vinterkveld despised those who wielded arcane powers. To speak out against a Vigilant was unthinkable, but hatred of the arcane outweighed fear of the Synod, it seemed, in some hearts at least.
‘Thank you,’ mumbled Ruslan as he passed the housemaid, worrying for the safety of his master. He reached the door to the Boyar’s suite with his heart hammering in his chest, imagining he might be too late to stop something terrible occurring. Had Zima been sent by the Emperor to assassinate his master? Barely able to think, Ruslan turned the handle and stumbled into the room. Boyar Sokolov rose from his chair with a look of astonishment on his face. Exarch Zima snatched a glance over his shoulder.
