‘You don’t know what it is you offer me.’
Noon grinned at him. The whispered voices in her head were quieter than they had ever been – she had the strangest idea that they did not like being inside the Behemoth – but even so, she felt half mad. ‘I think it’s a bit bloody late for that, don’t you?’ She held up the knife again, and this time he nodded, reluctantly. Sitting on the chamber floor, she cut a shallow wound in her arm and offered it to him, turning away as he bent his head over her – to save his privacy or hers, she wasn’t sure. The warmth of Tor’s mouth on her skin was shocking in this cold, alien place, and when he pulled away she was surprised by a sudden spike of desire for him. Dishevelled and vulnerable, his long hand resting against the skin of her arm, she thought she’d never seen him more beautiful.
‘Thank you.’ He stood up, and his movements already seemed smoother, stronger, and his eyes were brighter. ‘Let’s get out of here while the effect lasts.’
Their escape was much swifter. Without the need to stop and look for the orbs, they moved quickly through the narrow corridors and echoing chambers. Crossing the bridge again, Noon cast one glance over the edge, remembering how she had imagined the ancient Jure’lia lying in wait down there, but nothing looked back up at her as she passed. Eventually, they came to the broken exit, where a slash of grey daylight lit their way out.
‘We’ll leave tomorrow,’ Tor was saying, adjusting his pack so that he had easy access to his sword again. ‘Gather what we can in supplies and start making our way north. Vintage was right about the rains, it won’t be pleasant, but there’s no real sense in waiting—’
‘Be quiet. I think I hear something.’ Noon crouched and shuffled her way out, trying to see everywhere at once. Back out in the clearing, the sun was a lighter patch on the horizon, and the ground was steeped in shadows. The rain had stopped, but she could hear dripping everywhere, a disorientating sound.
‘I can see no lights,’ said Tor brusquely, emerging next to her.
‘I said I heard something, not that I saw—’
A bulky shape dropped from the trees in front of them. It was a shadow against shadows, and then a flare of green light revealed the woman’s face, caught in a snarl of rage. A moment later, Noon saw the ball of winnowfire suspended above her fist, and then the woman was jumping neatly from the back of her bat to land in the clearing in front of them.
‘Shit! It’s the Winnowry!’
Noon saw Tor draw his sword, the steel flashing green and white, and then a dart of green flame shot between them. Half falling, half running, Noon threw herself at the trees and then heard Tor’s shout of alarm. She looked back to see that part of his jacket was on fire, and the woman who had called herself Agent Lin was advancing on him with her arms full of boiling flame. She intended to kill him; the intent on her face was as clear as the corpse moon in the morning sky.
‘No!’
Before she really knew what she was doing, Noon was running back, already summoning the winnowfire from within her. The parasite-spirit energy, that slow-burning ember of power, suddenly flared back into life and green flames shot from her palms, coursing through the air towards the agent. The woman spat a curse and produced her own wall of flame, which dissipated Noon’s own wild attack easily.
‘Leave him alone! It’s me you came for.’
The woman Lin raised her eyebrows. Tor was beating out the flames on his sleeve, an expression of sheer panic on his face.
‘No loose ends,’ the woman said. ‘Besides which, he insulted me. And I’m in a bad mood.’
‘A bad mood?’ Noon gaped at the woman for a moment, and then shook her head. ‘Why do this? Why work for them? You know what they really are.’
Agent Lin smiled. It was a brittle thing, and for the first time Noon noticed that the woman looked tired, careworn. Clearly she had not washed her hair for some time, and there was a layer of dirt on her skin.
‘Oh, I know all about them, girl, which is exactly why I do this. Better to have the wolves on your side than at your throat.’
‘Then you’re a coward.’
Agent Lin smiled a little wider. ‘If you’re looking to distract me with insults, child, you will find that I am rather too thick-skinned for that.’
Noon reached inside her and found that swirling pool of energy again. It threatened to overwhelm her, and Tor was too close. She moved towards the Winnowry agent, putting herself between the woman and Tor. She held her hands out in front of her.
‘It is touching that you’re defending the Eboran. You’re of the plains people, aren’t you? So you must know his people decimated your own, generation after generation. Are you a particularly forgiving soul, or are you also fucking him?’
‘You should start running,’ said Noon. The power was building inside, swirling into something explosive, but Agent Lin couldn’t know that. ‘Get back on your bat and fuck off.’
‘Fell-Noon, that’s cute, but I’m trained to do this.’ The woman pushed a lock of grey hair away from her forehead. The bat wing there was cruder than Noon’s, almost more a scar than a tattoo. ‘I’ve seen you fight before, remember? You are no more than a child waving a torch.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe my torch got bigger.’ Noon thrust her hands forward and gave free rein to the parasite-spirit energy. A ball of flame erupted ahead of her, too bright to look at, and she heard Agent Lin give a startled shout. Noon felt a fierce moment of triumph, and then her ball of flame was torn to pieces, shards of emerald flame dicing it into tattered remnants. Noon threw herself to the ground to avoid the shards, landing in a squelch of mud and ash. Somewhere she could hear Tor shouting.
‘Even now, even with this, I can’t kill her.’ There was mud in her eyes. She rubbed her face, desperately trying to see what was going on. ‘I’m too weak.’
Nonsense. The voice in her head was back, stronger than it had ever been. Noon could almost feel the shape of the speaker, thundering through her blood. You were crafted for war, just as I was.
‘Who are you? What are you?’ Noon staggered to her feet. The sounds of a fight drifted towards her, a woman laughing. There were flares of green light all around.
I am death and glory. Now, listen to me closely.
Noon listened.
Tor flicked the Ninth Rain up in front of him just in time to catch the narrow dagger of flame the winnowry agent had flung at him. The roll in the wet mud had extinguished the flames on his sleeve, but his heart was still beating too fast and his mouth was dry. He had thought that he had forgotten almost everything from Noon’s explosion, but now he found that tiny memories were seeping back – the exquisite agony as the skin on his face was crisped away, the smell of his own flesh being instantly cooked, the searing pain as his shirt was consumed. He could not be burned again. He would not allow it.