Assassin of Dragonclaw (Nysta Book 7)

by Lucas Thorn

  Looked down at the wetness soaking into his coat.

  At spots on his hand.

  Wiped his face.

  Snarled.

  Jerked his head up and stared holes of hate through the elf.

  Then charged on a wave of desperation and uncertain feet. Eyes on the thiefstone in her hand. Screaming at the others to grab her.

  “Get it. You fuckwits. The stone!”

  But she hadn’t finished moving.

  Wrapped fingers around the goblin’s collar and flung him skidding into the doorway leading to the stairs. Darted after him as Ovi and Tur made to slam the goblin to the ground.

  A Flaw in the Glass fresh in her fist, ripped into Ovi’s side while Bograt used the ugly knife like a chopper, burying it deep in Tur’s shin. Pulled it free and cackled as he brought it back down again.

  The elf slipped on blood.

  Felt Noster coming.

  Scooped Bograt and leapt the two writhing bodies. Didn’t care if they were alive.

  Cruel grin twisting the scar on her cheek as she hit the stairs.

  The goblin raced up beside her, Red Claws in their wake. Old legs working harder than they’d worked in a long time to carry him up the stairs behind her.

  Like Fludd, he wheezed.

  And the elf flushed with shame at thought of the old man. Dead because of her.

  Noster made it to the doorway, shaking with rage. “You won’t get out this time. I’ve got a fucking army up there. Waiting for you. We’ll tear you apart, long-ear. You hear me? Tear you apart!”

  “Really lit your fuse, didn’t I, feller?” sunk A Flaw in the Glass into the chest of a face-wrapped kid. Gangly body wheeled back on wings of death. Slammed into others trying to rush past. Tumbled heap of limbs and choked cries.

  Wouldn’t slow them for long.

  But it’d be enough.

  The air was cleaner outside the room.

  Less tainted by the alchemist’s fumes.

  The elf took the stairs backward, facing the Red Claws trying to figure how best to grab her without letting her drop the stone. They wanted to let her go. Figured, like Noster, that there was no way out. Figured the rest of the gang would be waiting at the top.

  Hoped they’d deal with her.

  Cut her down.

  But the stone crackled in her fist, and they headed up after her. Cautious.

  Too cautious for Noster. Arms splayed in disbelief. “Kill her, you dumb motherfuckers. Do I have to do everything myself?” He pushed forward, caught between a few Red Claws pressing up behind him and a few still unsure about climbing the stairs in front.

  Then his eyes widened as she lifted her arm. Old Fludd’s Thiefstone gleaming bright as though burning with anticipation.

  Saw it gasp sparks in her hand.

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Can’t say I really knew you all that well, feller.” She kicked a desperate Red Claw in the face, sending the masked thug spinning away. Pitched the thiefstone over Noster’s shoulder with all her strength toward the cauldron still in view. “But I’ll be sure to tell everyone we had a blast.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  She expected fire.

  Smoke.

  Noise.

  Cover to get out of the towering fortress without having to fight her way free of an army of Red Claws.

  Didn’t expect the explosion which thundered through the earth and sent shockwaves tearing through the volcano’s structure. Shockwaves which pounded through her body and beat the breath from her lungs.

  Also didn’t expect the entire building to come falling down around her ears.

  Which is what it did.

  Fire erupted in the aftermath, roaring through ventilation shafts and chewing into the tower’s heavy ribs. It engulfed rooms directly above and collapsed the structure inward. Consumed everything like a monstrous demon swallowing debris with long gulps.

  Behind her, Noster and his men had been consumed by the blast. Most didn’t get to scream. Wet chunks of seared flesh bounced off walls near her face. Spattered her cheek with blood.

  Chips of wood.

  Stone bounced and crumbled.

  The acidic exhale from the inferno rushed up the stairs behind her and she threw herself down as its awful tongue whooshed overhead.

  The percussive boom deafened her ears. Eyes blinking. Jaw hung slack, though her mind still worked quick enough to tell her body to move.

  Move or die as the roof split at the seams above her head.

  She climbed, hauling Bograt with her. Slipped on a clump of sodden gore.

  Picked herself up.

  Took the next stair.

  Another shuddering explosion thumped through the ground as more of the alchemist’s supplies added to the chaos.

  White smoke swirled upward, thick and bitter.

  Her skin itched where it touched and she worked to pull a rag free from one of her pouches. Normally used to clean her knives. Now to mask her mouth and nose. Protect raw lungs.

  Bograt had already lifted his shirt around his face and his wild eyes fluttered rapidly. Wet with the tears dislodged by smoke.

  “Eventide say we run,” he choked. Muffled and distant in her ringing ears.

  “Good idea.”

  A heavy groan, and crunch of wood as more of the roof caved in behind them. Cascade of rock and splintered iron beams. Tumbling down the stairs. Filling it up with burning debris.

  Swept more smoke upward, blinding them for a moment.

  Coughing hard, she jerked the cloth from her face and spat the taste out.

  Put a hand on the wall to feel her way through dense curtains of smoke. The wall was warm. Was trembling as the ground rumbled hard.

  The elf kept moving. Fast as her legs could take her. Could hear more explosions as stacks of the alchemist’s supplies ruptured and blew. Hand pressed to the wall, she knew if they didn’t get out soon they’d be buried alive.

  Panic gnawed at her guts.

  The icy ball of fear wheeled and turned, diving around her stomach.

  The Shadowed Halls seemed to open, hollow and dark. Tense with anticipation. Ready to suck her soul into its waiting mouth.

  Squinting, she caught a flash of light.

  Headed for it.

  Through the buzzing in her ears, heard the wall to her left begin to burst open before it did. Had just enough time to spring ahead on aching legs before white hot plasma spewed from the wall and chewed into the stone stairs. Melted through rock.

  Hot fluid bubbling and spitting.

  “Shit,” she spat. Noster was right. Something was different about this fire. It was hotter than anything she’d ever seen. What kind of explosion churned rivers of slag?

  What horrors were boiling the ground beneath as fires mixed the alchemist supplies in ways they never should have been?

  Thick lava gurgled, regurgitating steaming ash.

  More of the wall caved in.

  She kept running.

  Bograt whimpered, dragging his leg. The old goblin wheezed harder as his body began to give out. He dropped the knife and clutched his shirt tighter to his face with both hands. All thoughts of defence forgotten as he chose instead to panic.

  She saw a flicker of movement.

  And her arm moved before her mind knew what was ahead. Plunged A Flaw in the Glass into the guts of a Red Claw stumbling down through the smoke. His choked cry was lost in the thunderous roar as the tower shook on its foundation.

  Pushing herself against the wall, she wrestled his body so it flopped down the stairs and into the boiling sludge.

  Heat peeled skin, meat, and even bone.

  But she didn’t pause to witness.

  Knew more of his gang had to be close. No way the lone Red Claw would’ve come rushing down this far. The way out had to be just up ahead. But how many more were waiting? They should’ve abandoned their tower as fire erupted through their home. Should’ve fled to a safe distance.

  Why had this one come dashing
down the stairs?

  A few wordless shouts from above.

  The elf struggled. Burning air was difficult to breathe, even through the makeshift mask.

  She’d been coughing most of the way.

  Sucked hard through rag. Hot air heavy in her lungs.

  Acidic.

  Eyes flooded with tears, she blinked and ducked as low as she could to the ground. Searching for a single pocket of clean air.

  Found none.

  Felt a cramp in the back of her thigh. A sharp spasm twitching and twisting up into her hip. Tugging at the joint.

  Her clothes pressed tight against skin. Sweat filmed her face and seeped into her shirt.

  How much further could the stairs go?

  She hadn’t expected them to be this high.

  Terror clasped her chest. Squeezed as the light dimmed. More smoke billowed up, searing skin.

  Blurring vision was no longer caused solely by the sting of smoke.

  Instead, tears of desperation mingled.

  Lungs, driven past tolerance, huffed and seemed too large for her body to hold. They ballooned against pained ribs. Yet were still too empty to feed working muscle with oxygen.

  Adrenaline waned as fear drooped toward hopelessness.

  Bograt also slowed. His legs, she knew, would feel like leaden lumps.

  The darkness in her body, carried by countless shadowy worms, shriveled and shrank into the recesses within. There was too much heat.

  Too much chaos.

  The ceiling up ahead began to bulge. Shuddered. Swelling like a pustulent sore. The elf couldn’t stop a strangled cry as she gave her body one last lunge. Snatched the exhausted goblin as she went.

  They hit the ground together beyond the sagging stone.

  Hiss of steam and molten liquid dribbled down through cracks. Drooling thick lines of burning fluid which didn’t pause as it ate through solid stone, warping the stairs below.

  Splashed down, spitting drops toward her leg.

  Drops she avoided by rolling hard. Then twisting awkwardly. Felt her hip wrench as she angled upward. Clenched teeth and shoved the goblin along. Wanted to shout at him to move.

  But had lost the rag and was holding her breath.

  Air, brittle and sharp with savage vapor, stung her cheeks and nostrils.

  She couldn’t suck it in.

  Knew if she did, it would be the end of her.

  Clamped lips.

  And used every ounce of strength to push toward the pale promise of exit.

  Dull shouts.

  Something splashed in front of her and she nearly fell backward, thinking more of the molten fluid was sluicing the stairs. Then saw it was water. Steaming as it hit hot stone stairs.

  The bulging ceiling behind chose that moment to give a shudder. Popped, letting loose an avalanche of burning liquid and flaming debris.

  The elf spun full circle, catching a glimpse of crashing rubble meshed around a twisted body made wretched and black by fires above. Kept spinning on her heel. Back toward the exit above.

  The goblin looked back.

  Look forward.

  Frantic, he knew what she knew.

  Behind lay the promise of fiery death. Ahead, an unknown horde of Red Claws who, while fighting to keep their home from burning to the ground, would no doubt want to kill them.

  She drew The Ugly and handed the heavy blade to the old goblin.

  “I’ll want it back,” she said, choking on the bitter air. Tugged another rag free and began tying it around her face. “You lose it and I’ll kill you.”

  He gripped the big knife like it was treasure.

  Not normal treasure. Goblin treasure.

  “Me not lose,” he said. “Me kill Red Claws. Give back wet with blood. Promise.”

  The elf nodded. Paused. “And don’t stick it in my back.”

  “Why me do that?”

  “When the dust settles, me and you are gonna have a long talk, feller.” She kept her voice level and strode the last few stares. “And I’d better like what you say. Or this place won’t be the only thing to blow its top.”

  She emerged from between pillars of smoke into what should have been a wide square atrium leading up through the centre of the Red Claw volcano. Instead, one side had caved in entirely, dropping down into the alchemist’s lair. The thick walls had been blasted to pieces. The homes inside incinerated.

  And it was still breaking apart.

  As she watched, a wide section of the wall slid like a glacier into sea. Only there was no cold here. No water. Just rolling tides of molten debris and burning flame.

  One level above the doorway remained, and it collapsed into where the elf had been dragging Bograt free only seconds before. Fire roared, burning tongues flapping at her back. Desperate to melt skin to scorch her bones.

  The Red Claw tower had truly become the volcano it was named after.

  The elf squinted through smoke.

  Saw the large gate on the other side of the rubble.

  Open.

  To her left and right, walls burned. Charred beams stuck out like blackened ribs. Splintered. Broken. Smoke wheeling out through cracks in the building’s shredded guts. Choking the sky.

  Mounds of brick and mortar covered the atrium floor like swollen wounds. Bodies sprawled twisted into debris. Knots of flesh and blistered clay.

  A young Red Claw, eyes red and stare vacant, sat on one of the mounds.

  Watching the fire.

  Just watching.

  As everything he cared for was reduced to ash.

  Coughing, she stumbled free of wreckage. Pulled herself to a halt as dozens of eyes turned her way in shocked amazement. Eyes which belonged to Red Claws.

  Red Claws with buckets in hand, but knives on hip. Knives many hands darted toward.

  “Shit,” someone croaked. “It’s her.”

  “Where’s Nos? Anyone see Nos?”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Ain’t no way he lived through that.”

  “She did.”

  “Yeah.” Pause. “And how’d she do that?”

  A woman charged through the gate from outside. Bucket in hand. Saw the elf and shrieked: “That’s her! Can’t you see? It was her! She burned us out. My boy was in there. My little Rainbird. He was in there, Halvik. She killed Rainbird. Killed Nos. And the rest. Look at her, Halvik. Look at her. That’s her. She killed them all!”

  The voice ended in a wail.

  Halvik cruised in close. Tall. Wide shoulders. Strong arms with muscle cording beneath skin. Two knives, one in each hand. “That true, long-ear? You did this?”

  “Reckon the lady got it right,” she turned on her heel, keeping him in sight through rising smoke. Shifted the rag from her mouth long enough to spit a thick stream to the ground and let her lip curl into a cruel grin. Exhausted, but determined, she lifted A Flaw in the Glass. Ready to fight her way through. “I’m a real firestarter.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The gates were open.

  If she could only reach them.

  Red Claws dropped buckets. Buckets which sloshed water over the side. Water they’d hoped to use to extinguish the blaze still shooting through tormented earth behind her. Forgotten now vengeance burned in their bellies hotter than the fires beneath.

  Many wore masks against the smoke.

  Some had stripped off black coats, but even their black shirts had red-slashed sleeves.

  All that stopped them from rushing her was the sudden gush of smoke as it swirled out of the ground beneath the rubble and began to spin around the atrium as it sought cleaner air to pollute.

  There wasn’t much time.

  If smoke didn’t choke them first, the ground would be swallowed by fire.

  Or the walls would fall inward and crush them all.

  She had to get out of the doomed volcano. Had to get into the streets. Glanced around. Bograt had disappeared. Whether buried under more of the collapsing tower or escaped into the curling smoke,
she couldn’t guess.

  No time.

  The thought punched her in the head and she let it kick her into movement.

  Always ready to cut the head off a snake, she went for Halvik first. Feet skidded across uncertain ground.

  He jumped back, bringing up one arm instinctively. Nearly lost his footing, but managed to stagger upright. Club in hand, swung hard at her ribs.

  Should have missed.

  But the elf’s speed was hampered by her inability to breathe as a breeze washed acidic white smoke through the burning atrium. Left her confused and desperate, so she took the blow to her side.

  Another between shoulder and neck.

  Driven to her knees, the elf snarled.

  Lifted an arm and took the third across her bracer.

  “It’ll be a real pleasure killing you,” he gasped between coughs. “Look around. Look what you did. Do you even care how many you murdered today? You’re a fucking monster.”

  “Just because I just came from a lab, doesn’t make me one of his fucking creations, feller.” She rolled onto her hip, out of his flailing grasp.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Forget it,” she spat. “Frankly speaking, we don’t have time.”

  She lunged, vivid green light speared through smoke, but A Flaw in the Glass failed to find flesh.

  Sound of rubble shifting.

  Her foot slid across loose stone. Legs splayed, she landed hard on her side. Nearly dropped her knife. Nerveless fingers gripped the handle by will alone.

  Flashed a scowl.

  “I’ve got you-”

  He came forward too fast, more chunks of rubble sliding under sudden steps. Sent him wheeling sideways and she cut into the opportunity. He dodged and parried a flurry of fresh strikes as the elf tried to drill into his thigh.

  Strikes which managed to tear only the barest threads of cloth above his knee.

  The mound beside them trembled as the ground shook hard beneath their feet. A rain of rock chips spattered down, pinging off each other and bouncing off their arms and head.

  Both looked up as one. A huge chunk of the wall was sliding down towards them.

  She went one way.

  He went the other.

  As a steaming avalanche of stone swept down to smother where they’d been fighting. Missing both by inches.