by Alec Hutson
“Help me!” she screamed, reaching towards him. But in reply he only ducked his head and looked away, as if embarrassed to meet her eyes.
“Verrigan! I am your guest here! A guest of the Stag!” she persisted, her voice raw from screaming. Yet she knew there was no hope. What could he do, with so many of his countrymen baying for her blood? She sagged in the grip of the Skein warriors, feigning defeat as they carried her down the stairs.
They were nearly at the edge of the pit now. It was a circular space a hundred paces or so wide, empty save for the man waiting for her in its center. A curving stone wall rose up along the pit’s far side, and there was a large archway that once would have emptied into the ruins, but it was now filled with a seamless chunk of the black ice. She could see no way in or out of the pit . . . except by being tossed down.
Which was what the Skein clearly intended to do to her. The masked priest had stopped at the cracked stone balustrade that encircled the edge of the pit, watching her as she was carried closer.
Cho Lin threw her head violently to the left, smashing into the face of one of the warriors. He gave a pained cry as something popped in his cheek, and his grip on her arm slackened just enough for her to wrench it free. With all her faded strength she slammed her open palm into the nose of the other Skein, driving the bone upward; she’d hoped to push it into his brain and kill him instantly, but either she hadn’t struck with enough force, or his face was as hard as stone. Blood splattered her hand and he reeled backwards, but he did not fully let go of her arm. She kicked the inside of his leg hard and he went to one knee, but still he did not unclench his grip. Cho Lin shrieked in frustration, prying desperately at his fingers.
But he’d held on long enough, and she’d missed her chance. The Skein around her surged, and a dozen more pairs of hands grabbed at her arms and body and legs. Cho Lin thrashed as she was lifted and carried forward; above her, the gray sky spun, and then she was tumbling through the air.
The force of hitting the snow drove the breath from her lungs. Her side ached where she’d landed, but luckily because of the recent storm the snow was not hard-packed – she could easily have broken a limb falling from this height. She wiped snow from her eyes and glanced up at the Skein who were leaning over the balustrade, laughing and pointing down at her. Cho Lin spat a Shan curse at them and then pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, her boots disappearing into the powdery snow.
The southerner had not moved. He was dressed in the same frilled linen doublet, though it had grown more tattered since she’d last seen him in her cell. His breeches belonged on a southern dandy, loose and billowy. With a creeping dread she realized that he had lost his shoes and now stood barefoot in the snow, unconcerned by the cold that would have quickly claimed the toes of any normal man.
“What are you?” Cho Lin murmured as the southerner began to stride towards her. His face was frozen in a grin, and his pale blue eyes were locked on her. There was no blade in his hand that she could see.
Cho Lin calmed herself, reaching for the Nothing. She focused on the pounding of her heart and the deepness of her breathing, and the world around her seemed to fade away. The jeers of the watching Skein dwindled to a distant whisper. For many days she’d struggled to grasp the emptiness inside her, but here and now, as this thing stalked closer, she found herself falling deeper and deeper within herself. This was what she was born to do. She was a weapon, honed to perfection. Let this thing come.
She barely saw the first blow. One moment the southerner had been calmly approaching her, his long arms swinging at his side, and then her head had snapped back and she’d been tossed in the air, the side of her face burning. She sprawled in the snow, gasping. He’d struck her, a casual backhand like he was punishing an insolent child. Cho Lin scrambled to her feet, desperately holding fast to the Nothing as her surprise threatened to sever her connection.
The man had not pressed his advantage. He continued to stroll towards her, the same empty smile curving the edges of his lips.
Cho Lin snarled, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth, and brought up her hands as she set her feet in the Leaping Tiger stance. Another blindingly fast strike, and she just managed to jerk herself backwards, his fingers nearly brushing her neck. She lashed out with her own blow, driving her fist into his jaw.
It was like punching iron.
His counter caught her in the stomach and for a moment she was airborne again, her boots lifting from the snow. She managed to keep from collapsing, though, landing on her feet and backpedaling frantically to put some distance between her and this thing.
It wasn’t human. It couldn’t be. The blow she had just landed should have shattered its jaw, and she hadn’t even managed to dislodge its grin.
Tears were streaming down its face, but otherwise its expression remained unchanged. Tears of joy, Cho Lin realized with a shudder as she stepped backwards, gathering herself again. The thing looked to be in the throes of ecstasy.
Her ribs were cracked, if not broken. She struggled to ignore the grating pain in her side as the creature sauntered closer. The thing was faster than any man, yet it had showed little actual fighting skill. Every blow had been delivered with unnatural speed and strength but nothing else. She could use that. Anticipate its actions.
As soon as the creature drew within striking distance Cho Lin twisted away from the blow she hadn’t even seen coming yet. But it did come; she felt its passage as a rush of air on her cheek, and then she used her preemptive dodge to spin closer to the thing, slamming her elbow as hard as she could into its throat.
The thing that looked like a man stumbled back, clutching at its neck. Cho Lin didn’t give it time to recover, surging forward, channeling the Nothing through the strikes she rained down on its head. She drove it to its knees, unleashing all the helpless rage that had consumed her during her weeks of imprisonment. In her desperation, Cho Lin found a reservoir of strength she never imagined was inside her.
She bludgeoned its face, skinning her knuckles raw as she struck it again and again and again. There was blood on her hand, some of it hers, but most coming from the gashes she had opened on its brow and cheeks. Cho Lin screamed as the creature went to its hands and knees, slamming her fist into the base of its skull.
Then she was retreating, clutching at her side in shock. Her furs had been shredded, and she could feel hot blood pulsing from wounds that had appeared just above her hip. She struggled to understand what she was seeing.
The creature was climbing to its feet again. Its face was hidden behind a mask of blood and bruises – one of its eye sockets had been crushed, the eye reduced to nothing more than white jelly, but if anything its smile had widened, showing teeth stained red.
Its hands. Cho Lin moaned, her head spinning, and nearly collapsed in the snow. The fingers of the creature had changed, lengthening into glistening, tapered claws, wet from having ripped her open moments ago.
Cho Lin’s tenuous grasp on the Nothing slipped through her fingers like water. She was thrust back into the moment, the thud of her heart and her ragged breathing swallowed by the avalanche of noises from the outside world: her boots, crunching in the snow as she scrambled away from this thing; the piercing cry of an eagle circling far overhead; the muted rumblings of the Skein. They were not jeering anymore, she realized. They seemed stunned by what was happening in the pit.
The creature stalked after her, unconcerned with the reactions from those watching above. Cho Lin saw droplets of her blood fall from the thing’s claws, a trail of red appearing behind it in the snow.
“Your heart I will carve from your chest,” the thing said in a cracked and broken voice. “And I will make a gift of it.”
Cho Lin threw herself to the side, barely keeping her feet as the talons flickered out to carve the air. Lines of fire opened in her left shoulder, and it felt like a chunk of her flesh had been gouged away. She stumbled
back, unable to stop the hitching sobs rising up inside her. Beneath her furs, warmth slid down her arm.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw something glitter, a silvery shape, arcing across the bleak gray sky. It landed a few dozen paces from her, raising a spray of snow.
What was this? Even the creature had paused, as if confused.
She turned towards the tiers of benches sunk into the side of the slope. A man with yellow braids stood at the balustrade above the pit, and as she watched he heaved something else with great force, nearly tumbling over the edge.
Verrigan.
Whatever it was he had thrown flashed as it tumbled end over end. Then it sank quivering into the snow, nearly touching the first object: a length of gleaming steel with a carved ivory handle.
Her swords. Without pausing to consider the how or the why of it, Cho Lin lunged towards the blades, her boots churning the snow. Time seemed to grind slower as she approached where her butterfly swords waited, and she feared that the thing’s talons would plunge into her back before she could reach where they lay.
But with a wordless cry of triumph she arrived first and scooped her swords from the snow, her fingers sliding into their accustomed grooves. She whirled around, bringing up both blades, the Nothing flowering within her as if a key had been fitted into a locked door. Her arm and side pulsed with pain, her ribs ached, but she was whole again. Now she was the one stalking forward, her butterfly swords dancing.
The creature’s bland smile faltered, a flicker of something like uncertainty shivering its ruined face. Then it hissed like a serpent and leaped at her; its claws had continued to grow, and now were longer than daggers, curved like the talons of a raptor.
Cho Lin twisted to avoid the strike and lashed out with her sword. She felt the briefest of resistance and two of the claws tumbled to the snow. No gore leaked from the talons – instead, thin lines of blackness dribbled from the stumps, unspooling in the air like blood spilled in water. The creature raised its hand, its brow knitted in confusion as it examined its mutilated fingers.
Cho Lin didn’t give it time to recover. She rushed forward, swords flashing. The creature brought its hands up as if its talons could ward away her steel, and she sliced through them, chunks of bone and flesh falling away.
The thing screeched. It sounded like nothing human, like nothing of this world. Cho Lin gritted her teeth and pressed forward even as the curling black smoke from the creature’s ravaged hands slid across her own wounds, sending fresh waves of pain coursing through her. She thrust one of her swords into the thing’s chest, searching for its heart, but despite piercing whatever was beneath its ribs the demon did not die, and it swiped at her with its shattered claws. Cho Lin leaped back, ripping her sword free as the jagged stumps of its fingers passed in front of her eyes.
The thing seemed to flicker for the briefest of moments. It came and went so fast Cho Lin wasn’t sure what she had seen, but the blood-drenched man in front of her had vanished and been replaced by . . . something else. Twisting black flesh, a distended jaw bristling with fangs, and huge, slitted yellow eyes as blank as the moon and as fathomless as the Nothing. Then it was only a wounded man once more with claws for hands, swaying as it struggled to stay upright.
Gathering all her remaining strength, Cho Lin stepped closer and slashed at the thing’s neck. Its head tumbled to the snow, followed a heartbeat later by its limp body.
Cho Lin nearly collapsed as well, and she had to brace herself by thrusting her blades into the snow and leaning on the hilts. She took great gulping swallows of the frozen air, her breath steaming around her. Her legs trembled, and the day seemed to darken.
Screams came from behind her. With some effort she twisted around and tried to focus on the benches ascending the slope; they were swarming now as the Skein surged from their seats. The black-robed priest of the Skin Thief was the one yelling the loudest. He stood on the lip of the pit, leaning out over the balustrade and pointing at her. A few of the Skein were rushing to join him, and Cho Lin knew it would only be a short while before they dropped down into the pit and came for her.
Fighting back the shadows that were trying to creep across her vision she glanced around frantically, hoping for some crack in the wall that she could squeeze through. Nothing – this seemed like the only building in all of Nes Vaneth that wasn’t at least partially collapsed. There was only the arched entrance to the pit, and it was sealed by a wall of black ice. At least that was as far away from the Skein as possible, and she could put her back to something and keep them from encircling her. With stumbling steps she began running towards the ice.
Wait. Cho Lin squinted, unsure if what she saw was a trick conjured up by her pain and exhaustion. But as she neared the wall, she realized it was real. A woman was encased within like a fly in amber, her mouth slightly parted and her palms pressed against the ice. She wore a flowing dress, and a thin diadem made of twisting silver threads encircled her brow. Her eyes were wide and glassy in death.
Another barked command floated across the pit, and Cho Lin turned to see several Skein warriors being lowered over the balustrade by their brethren. Soon they would be charging across the snow towards her, far too many for her to fight. She tightened her blood-slicked grip on the handles of her swords. Let them come. She would die, but she’d send as many as she could screaming down into whatever abyss welcomed their heathen souls.
A crack sounded from behind her like a frozen lake fracturing. She twisted around, staring in confusion at the black ice and the corpse trapped within.
Except there was no corpse; nothing was inside the ice now. Cho Lin swallowed, trying to make sense of this. A fissure had appeared that hadn’t been there a moment ago. It started from where the ice merged with the stone archway and split right down the center until it reached the base. As Cho Lin watched in mute astonishment, the crack widened, chunks of ice sloughing away.
Then the ice shattered, breaking apart like a mirror smashed against stone.
Battle cries reached her through the haze of her surprise. A handful of Skein were rushing across the pit, swords and axes upraised. They would reach her soon, and more were clambering down the wall. Death was here for her if she stayed and fought.
She glanced back at where the ice had been. Beyond the stone archway the tumbled white-stone ruins of Nes Vaneth stretched away, desolate and empty.
Not empty. A shiver went through her as she glimpsed a slim white arm disappearing around a cracked pillar. Someone was out there.
“Wait!” Cho Lin cried, moving as fast as her aching body would let her, the shards of the black ice crunching beneath her boots.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, Cho Lin hobbled to where she’d seen the stranger. Nothing. Just more snow-covered chunks of stone and the husks of collapsing buildings.
Cries of alarm from the arena. The Skein warriors had reached the stone archway, and were gesturing at something among the ruins that from her vantage she couldn’t see. None of them were looking at her, or seemed willing to enter the ruins. After a few moments they began to back away, and a few even turned and ran, slipping and stumbling in the snow. Fear was evident in the faces still turned towards the ruined city.
They were not pursuing her. At least not yet, though surely they would find their courage soon enough. Cho Lin pushed deeper into Nes Vaneth, her hand pressed to her side to stop as much of the bleeding as she could. Still, she felt it soaking her furs and crawling down her legs, pooling in her boot. She had to keep one hand on the ancient stone walls to keep herself from falling.
She was going to die.
Movement ahead of her. A pale woman in a flowing dress walked across the gap between two buildings. She did not notice Cho Lin, staring straight ahead.
“Help!” Cho Lin croaked, stumbling after her. If the woman lived among the ruins she might have cloth to bind wounds, or some other means to staun
ch her bleeding.
Cho Lin emerged from the alleyway and found herself in a tangle of narrow streets, listing ruins rising up around her. There was no sign of the woman.
“Where are you?” Cho Lin yelled, looking around frantically. A numbness was creeping through her now that was even more terrifying than the pain it replaced.
She gasped in relief when she saw the woman drifting inside a half-collapsed doorway a hundred paces deeper within this warren. Real or not, a ghost or a refugee from the recent Skein civil war, Cho Lin did not care. This was her only hope.
Half her lower body was now tingling, and she was forced to drag one of her legs in the snow as she struggled towards where she’d seen the woman disappear. Had she been wearing the same dress as the woman in the ice? Perhaps she’d been on the other side of the black ice, looking in, and it had only been some trick of Cho Lin’s addled mind that she had appeared to be trapped within.
Cho Lin did not hesitate when she arrived at the entrance. Its lintel was cracked, buckling under the weight of the stone above, but the building had stood for a thousand years, so it wasn’t likely to collapse today. Cho Lin plunged into the gloom and found herself in a large circular chamber, empty except for a block of white stone in the center.
No woman. But there was a crack in one of the walls, just large enough that Cho Lin thought she could squeeze through. Perhaps that was where she’d gone.
Her breathing rasped loud and wet as she crossed to the fractured wall and peered into the darkness within.
“Hello?” she cried, but there was no answer.
Biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain, Cho Lin wormed her way inside the crack. There was a passage here, so low-ceilinged that she had to crouch. With her hands braced on either side of the cold passage she began to move forward in a crouch. She’d thrust her butterfly swords into her belt, and the only sounds she heard were their tips scraping against the stone floor.
The corridor twisted, and for a few long moments she crept along in absolute blackness. Panic rose up inside her, but before it seized her completely she saw a glow spilling from somewhere up ahead.
