The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 78
“Chet,” said Loren. She rolled him over. “Chet, Chet.” She threw off her cloak, balling it up and putting it beneath his head. Suddenly she realized she was touching him, her hands on his shoulder, his neck, his head. But he was almost senseless, and he could hardly withdraw from her even if he wanted to.
“No,” gasped Gem. Loren looked up. The boy stood a pace away, looking down at Chet, his face a mask of horror.
But Kerri pushed past him, kneeling at Chet’s side across from Loren. Without hesitation she tore Chet’s shirt open to inspect his wounds. Where before the girl had been shaking with fear at their plight, now her hands were steady as she probed the cuts. Chet groaned at each touch of her fingers. But she only inspected him for a short moment before she looked up at Loren.
She shook her head.
Loren’s mouth worked, looking for words. She found none, and looked back down at him.
“Loren,” he gasped. His eyes opened, and they were clear. Loren withdrew her hands from him at once.
“I am here,” she said. “I am here, Chet. I came.”
“How did you …” He coughed. Blood bubbled from between his lips. His face was bruised. She thought his nose must be broken. His red-matted hair stuck out in all directions. “How did you know where I was?”
“I did not,” said Loren. “We were … we were running … I knew I had to come here.”
It seemed as if he tried to nod, but the movement only made him grimace in pain. “The dreams.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Chet began to weep. Hot tears slid down his cheeks, mingling with the blood, and silent sobs made his chest jerk. “It … it hurts … yet at the same time it is like I cannot feel it. Once … once she started, she would not stop. No matter what I said.”
Loren did not have to ask who he meant. Damaris. “How did she find you?”
“I did not make it beyond sight of the city,” said Chet. “They caught me. Gregor. Some others. The moment they appeared … I froze. Limp. Like a fawn when a wolf seizes its throat. And I … it was like I knew that it would happen. That it was inevitable. The Elves. They told you. I thought about it all the way back to the city … trussed up on Gregor’s saddle.”
Kerri looked at Loren in shock. Loren ignored her.
The Elves’ words rang in her mind. The one who walks with death.
A wave of pain struck him, and he cried out. His hand gripped his shirt. Loren squeezed her fingers together until she thought they would break, keeping herself from taking his hand, holding him, touching his face. Not now. She would leave him alone for now, at least. Until … until after. She forced herself to be calm, forced away the despair that clawed at her mind, her soul. She must be strong. For him, not for herself.
“It hurts,” he whispered again.
Loren’s hand went to the hilt of her dagger. Not one of her throwing daggers. The dagger on the back of her belt. Finely crafted, with black designs made of magestone. The dagger Chet had used to kill Auntie.
“I could help,” she whispered. “I can … I can end it. The pain would stop.”
And deep within her heart, she knew she would. If he asked her to, she would. It would be the first life she had ever taken on purpose. But she would do it, to keep him from more pain.
“No,” he gasped. “It is … I can feel that it is almost over. If … if I only have a few moments left … I would rather spend them with you.”
Fresh tears sprang from his eyes. But they were different. His face contorted in grief, not pain.
“Do not worry,” said Loren. “I will not leave.”
“No, I …” He gasped against a fresh wave of pain before he could go on. “I told her. Damaris. I told her … I told her everything. Your dreams. The Elves. Your dagger … what it means to the Mystics.”
Loren quailed. She had thought that nothing could overwhelm her grief, but now terror came flooding in to replace it. It was the secret she had held ever since Wellmont, when Jordel had first told her all the secrets of the dagger. That knowledge in the hands of Damaris …
But she forced such thoughts away. There would be time to deal with that. There would be no more time to spend with Chet. “It is all right,” she said, determined not to let him see her fear. “You could have done nothing more.”
“I did not tell her where Kal was,” he whispered. “It was the only thing I could hold on to. And I had told her so much already … when I lied at last, she believed me.”
“That was brave,” she said. “That was brave, Chet. You saved many lives.” She forced away thoughts of Jormund, of all the Mystics who had died in the palace just moments ago. Chet knew nothing of them. He did not need to.
“I am glad they will live,” he whispered. “Glad I could do that much, at least.”
“You have done so much more,” said Loren.
A ragged gasp wracked his body. Suddenly his hand shot out to clutch hers. Loren looked down at her hand in shock. His fingers laced through hers. His blood still ran from wounds on his fingers, and it mixed with the blood of her sliced palm. She held him back, squeezing, giving him an anchor.
“It … it hurts …” he gasped. “I … you deserve better, but … please …”
“What, Chet?” she said. “I have water, I—”
“No,” he whispered. “Please. Hold me?”
She lifted him up at once, lifted him to sitting, ignoring the grunt of pain. Kerri opened her mouth as if to speak, but she held herself back. Doubtless this would worsen the wound. But what did it matter? It would be over soon anyway.
It would all be over.
Chet’s arms snaked around her back, but slowly, and she stroked his hair. He buried his face in her shoulder, and she squeezed, letting him feel her, letting him feel her arms around him. He turned his head, and she pulled back, thinking she was smothering him. But he kissed her, softly, briefly. She returned it. No passion, no lust. No time for that now. But she poured all of her love into it, into that brief moment of the meeting of her lips. And then they held each other again.
Chet shuddered. And then she felt it. Like a felled animal in the woods. The woods where Chet had taught her to hunt in the first place. She felt the life slip from him.
He was gone. Gone, to where she could not follow him anymore.
THE TREASURY FELL TO SILENCE. The only sounds were the muted voices of guards in the courtyard and on the walls outside, still no doubt searching for Loren and her friends, and the quiet, wracking sobs of Gem. But after a short while had passed, Kerri reached over and put her hand on Loren’s shoulder.
“I am sorry,” she said. “But we are still in danger.”
“I know,” said Loren. “I know.”
Gently she laid Chet down, then took her cloak and stood to don it. She refused to look at him. They had to leave him here. Loren hated it, but she knew she must. She went to Gem’s side and put an arm around his shoulders. He turned to her and threw his arms around her, weeping, his tears soaking into her fine new shirt.
“The front door will be guarded,” said Kerri quietly. “But … we might fight our way out. It is the only thing I can think of.”
“There is no need,” said Loren. She gingerly unwrapped Gem’s arms from around her waist, and then she went to the corner of the room.
A tapestry hung there. Loren remembered it. The man in black had shown it to her. She pushed it aside, and there was only a blank stone wall. Kneeling, Loren felt for the chink in the stone. After a moment she found it, and her fingers pulled on the lever. Two stones swung open, revealing the passageway.
Kerri gawked at her. “How did—”
“I am the Nightblade,” said Loren. Then she remembered what the man in black had said in her dream. “It is my job to know the secret ways no one else knows.”
She led the way, crawling into the passage. Gem came behind her, still sniffling, and Kerri brought up the rear. Soon the passageway was completely black. Loren reached into her cloak and pulled out a magestone, breaking off a piece and eating it. Then she reached to the back of her belt and drew her dagger, holding it in one hand as she proceeded. With the magestone in her blood, and her hand on the dagger, the passageway was suddenly bright as day.
“I cannot see,” said Kerri.
“You do not need to,” said Loren. “There is only one way out.”
Only one way out.
She crawled forwards, following the passageway as it turned left and right, warning her friends each time. Soon it sloped up, and she knew they were near the end. At last it came. She reached up, finding the chink in the stone and pulling the lever. The wall swung out soundlessly. Loren crawled into the open.
They were in the palace. The hallway was wide and tall, and there were many doors in it. To their left, Loren thought she saw the hallway reach the main front hall, while to the right it ended in a door. But in the middle there was a side hallway leading deeper into the palace.
“I know where we are. The front doors are that way.” Kerri pointed to the left. “If the Mystics still hold the front gate—”
“They do not,” said Loren. “They will have left, or they are already dead. This way.” She started off for the side hallway.
“How do you know?” said Kerri. But she followed along, Gem by her side.
“It is enough that I do.” How could she begin to explain?
Loren led them on the course she had been shown. They walked down hallways that felt familiar to Loren by now, though she had never seen them in the waking world. The dreamsight still had its hold on her, but it was not like before. Now, seeing the places from her dreams did not disorient her or send her mind spinning. Now it was like she was following a route marked on a map.
She turned the final corner, and there it was, as she had known it would be. Ahead, an open door leading to a dining hall, and beyond that, freedom. To the left, a small wooden door led to a serving room. Loren came to a halt.
“There!” said Kerri. “That gate is open! We can escape!”
“Take Gem with you,” said Loren. “I must go another way.”
They both stopped short. Kerri looked over her shoulder, towards the hallway that ran to the front of the palace. Voices drifted from that direction, far away but coming closer. “What do you mean?” she said. “What other way?”
“Loren—” Gem began.
“Shush,” said Loren. “You and Kerri must go into the dining hall. Wait at the other end for a short while. Then run for the city. You will be able to escape. I swear it.”
Gem set his jaw. “I will not leave. Not without you. Not after Chet.”
That way is for others, but not for you.
“You are not leaving me,” said Loren. “But there is one thing I must do first before I follow you.”
He paused. “What thing?”
Loren gave him a sad smile and gently pushed his shoulder. “Never you worry, master urchin. But I swear this now: I will find you back at Kal’s hideout. I would not leave you and Annis to fend for yourselves.”
Gem looked up into her eyes, studying them. Poor Gem, thought Loren. You cannot recognize a lie in my eyes. In Damaris and Auntie, I met two of the most cunning minds in the nine kingdoms, and they could not tell if I spoke the truth. What hope do you have?
“Very well,” said Gem slowly. “I believe you.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “Now go. Look after Kerri.”
His chest puffed up a bit at that. Over his head, Loren caught Kerri’s eye and winked. The girl gave a smile—little more than a small twist of the lips. Kerri had one advantage over Gem: she had not known Loren long enough to think she knew when Loren was telling the truth. Gem led the way into the dining hall, but Kerri paused for just a moment.
“You had better not have lied to that boy,” she said quietly. “I will expect you back at the hideout.”
Loren nodded solemnly. Then she turned and ducked into the serving room, pausing for just a moment to ensure that Kerri went to follow Gem.
Inside, she found the room laid out just as she had known it would be. Against the back wall was the shelf of dishes. Loren threw it away from the wall, not caring about the clatter it made. She was past that now. The passageway beyond led to the ladder, and that led to the passageway above. That ended in the tapestry, and Loren pulled it aside.
She stepped into Gregor’s room.
He stood at the other end, framed by the open doorway. In his hands was a massive longbow of yew, longer than Loren was tall. He faced away from her, scanning the courtyard below. The room was modest by Damaris’ standards, but still held finery beyond anything Loren had ever seen growing up. The tapestry through which she had emerged was matched by one on the other side of the room, and all the furniture was carved of solid oak, inlaid with finely wrought gold. There were many lanterns around the room, but only three were lit, leaving the whole place dim. They were the only illumination, for outside the night was still misty and clouded. The moons and stars cast no glow upon the room, nor even upon Gregor himself.
Loren turned and closed the door to the passageway, making no effort to mask the sound.
Gregor’s head snapped up, and he turned to her. For a long moment he stood there, studying her. Then, inexorable as a rockslide, he stepped into the room. One hand drifted behind him, closing the glass balcony door. He pulled a sash holding back a curtain, and it fell across the door, sealing the room against the last rays of torchlight from beyond.
This is the only way, thought Loren. All roads lead to Gregor.
“Hello, Nightblade,” said Gregor. His voice rolled through the room like thunder. “Damaris promised me this. That together, we would make you suffer. And then, at last, I would get to kill you.”
“I THOUGHT I MIGHT FIND you here,” said Loren lightly.
Gregor snorted. “Did you?” But he paused, and his eyes hardened to steel. “Ah. The boy told us things. Your dreams. Did they lead you here to die? Hardly a useful tool.”
Loren shrugged, letting her gaze drift around the room. Across the room was the only other door. It led to the rest of the palace. To escape.
She turned away from it.
“They have proven more useful than you might realize. After all, they have told me where to find your mistress.”
The bodyguard froze. Loren widened her eyes.
“Oh, did you not imagine I would know that? That I had not planned all this? While you waste your time here with me, Mystics are even now descending on Damaris’ location and—”
Gregor charged.
Loren had expected it, but the giant’s speed never failed to surprise her. She leaped away from the tapestry, making for the room’s door. But Gregor anticipated the move, and his hand swiped out. Loren dropped and rolled—but her foot overextended, kicking a side table. One of the lamps fell to the floor, shattering its glass. The light went out, and the room grew dimmer still.
Quickly Loren scrambled for her feet. But Gregor was almost upon her, and she had to roll away from the door. He paused there, shoulders hunched, arms to his side. Loren thanked the sky that he did not have his sword on him.
“You did not plan this night,” he growled. “If you had, you would never have left Chet for us to kill.”
“You have no right to speak his name,” hissed Loren. But she thought, Even now, Gem and Kerri will be making their way across the courtyard. Almost there. Almost free.
She circled, keeping her eyes fixed on Gregor. It almost made her forget his longbow, which he had dropped. Her foot hit it, and she nearly tripped. Gregor tensed, but when she righted herself, he subsided. In one fluid motion, Loren crouched and picked up the bow. It felt like a spear in her hands. If only she were Uzo.
“Do you think that will save you, girl?” said Gregor. “That little stick?”
“Cruel words,” said Loren. “After all, it is your little stick.”
Gregor growled and charged again. Loren leaped to the side, swinging the longbow at him. He raised an arm to block it, and it cracked over his forearm. Grunting in pain, he swung his other fist at her. Loren could not quite dodge it. It smashed into her shoulder, flinging her across the room. She rolled with the landing, fighting to her feet at once. In one hand she still held half of the longbow. The broken end was jagged and splintered. She thrust it at Gregor, forcing him back.
“I think I am at a disadvantage,” she said. “If only I had learned to fight. I tried to get you to teach me, once. Do you remember? I begged you for swordplay lessons. But then, as now, you could not quite catch me. Will you not give me a sword again? It is the only way this fight will be fair.”
“Who wants a fair fight?” said Gregor. “I have only one goal here tonight: to end your life, and to take as long as I can in doing so.”
They had spun around each other again, and now the balcony door was behind Loren. She reversed her grip on the longbow, throwing it at him like a spear. He batted it aside, but she had not truly meant to hit him. Loren turned, dashing for the balcony. She threw aside the curtain, her hand coming down on the latch—
It did not turn. Locked.
A fist bigger than her head closed on the hood of her cloak.
This is it.
Gregor flung her away from the door. She flew all the way across the room, crushing another lamp. Loren felt a sharp pain—broken glass, or a cracking rib?—and gasped.
Then she smiled.
Rolling over, she saw Gregor stalking towards her. He wanted to get his hands on her, pin her down, but he was moving slowly. He did not want to give her another chance to escape.
Loren’s hand fell to her belt, closing around a knife. She drew it and threw.
Gregor halted, raising one mailed arm to stop the blade. But it flew straight past him—to strike the third and final lamp, sending it crashing to the floor.
The room went utterly black.
