The second stone caught the top of the gourd, shattering it and exploding a modest shower of the liquor within. The third hit Yisht’s palm. The fourth would have missed the gourd if it had still been in Yisht’s hand but hit the dropping gourd dead centre, completing the job of smashing it and splashing the boneless liquor back across the woman’s chest.
The pooled oil from Yisht’s dropped lantern flared up, and beads of liquor sparkled on the oily blackness of her jacket. Nona was far from sure any of it would penetrate to the skin. Of more help would be the rising fumes and the splatters that had reached Yisht’s palm as the flask shattered.
‘Nona Grey.’ Yisht’s voice carried no emotion. ‘You chose a lonely place to die.’ She pulled the tular from its open-sided scabbard. The blade resembled a long narrow rectangle of flat steel, slightly wider at the end than at the hilt, cut at an angle at an the extremity to produce one sharp corner and one more open.
Nona needed to kill time, enough of it to let the boneless drop Yisht, but not enough of it to let Yisht drop her. She could stay in the light and pit her speed against Yisht’s sword and her unnatural ability to know exactly what any opponent would do in the next few seconds … or she could run blind into the dark.
She turned and ran. She knew the tunnel well enough for the next fifty yards. She ran with her hands out before her, not at a flat sprint but far faster than she felt comfortable running in total darkness.
The sound of booted feet on stone pursued her into the night. Nona considered diving to the side and letting Yisht pass her … but could the woman’s knowledge of the near future tell her what would happen if she slashed left or right? Could her vision of the next few moments be effectively a vision of the next few yards around her in any direction? Nona didn’t want to put that to the test.
She had passed the side tunnel. Passed it or almost reached it. Either way, she had no means of finding the opening inches above arm’s reach without wasting far more time than she had. Yisht had closed the gap: she sounded so close that a swing of her tular might trim Nona’s hair.
Hell. The tunnel might make a sharp turn in the next few yards. Or Nona might sprawl over a rock or break a leg in a fissure. Inevitably, Yisht would find her senseless or injured and kill her without relish or mercy. Nona skidded to a halt, angling to the side. If she had to die she’d do it facing her enemy, blades out.
Yisht came on, swift, not missing a step. Nona ran towards her, one hand reaching to find the wall, the other before her, flaw-blades cutting the darkness.
Nona tripped on the rougher ground where the floor curved up to become wall. She pitched forward as Yisht came upon her. Something jolted her arm, a metallic squeal and an impact against her blades that echoed through her bones all the way to her shoulder. Nona rolled and came up, arms reaching. Behind her Yisht cursed in the ice-tongue and came to a stumbling halt.
‘You poisoned me.’
Nona ran back the way she’d come. Yisht’s footsteps followed for a few yards, then came to a halt again. She slurred something.
A moment’s silence. The sound of something slumping to the ground.
Nona released a breath and let the tension inside her unwind. She took a step towards Yisht. Another.
What am I doing?
She needed the others. She turned again and started back, slowly, arms searching the space before her.
With a roar Yisht launched herself into a stumbling run, her ruse having failed to bring Nona to her.
Nona just ran, screaming, all control lost in the dark. She hit a wall, bounced off it and fell, her head blazing with pain, wet with blood. Yisht tripped over her before she’d stopped rolling and in a moment the woman’s weight had her pinned, elbows holding her forearms to the ground, both hands wrapped about Nona’s throat. And there, far below the ground, with the two of them locked together in the blind darkness, Yisht began to throttle her.
Nona couldn’t lift her arms to use her blades, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She raged, blades flexing, body heaving, seeing lights in that dark place that held no light, and the thunder of her heart filled her ears. She fought. She fought hard. And she lost.
‘—a—’
It was a small sound to express so much pain but it was all that could be squeezed from a throat as narrow as a straw. Nothing had changed. Nona was still pinned. She still could see nothing. Still had hands about her throat. Still had her arms pinned. But she could breathe. Everything had changed!
Nona drew and released a few more breaths, each one agony but delicious even so. The hands at her throat just lay there. She struggled and got her arms out from beneath Yisht’s pinning elbows. Reaching up, she pulled the woman’s unresisting fingers from her throat. ‘Got. You.’ Small words. Painful. Triumphant.
Nona started to wriggle out from beneath the warrior. For a small woman she seemed to weigh an enormous amount – as if her bones were made of lead. Nona struggled with one limp arm, finding it almost impossible to move. With sudden horror she realized that the boneless solution soaking Yisht’s chest had started to work on her. Panic lent her strength. Even so it took several minutes to wriggle out from beneath the warrior and by then Nona felt as weak as a baby and had lost all sense of direction.
‘Think, Nona. Think.’ Hessa’s words, penetrating Nona’s fog of terror.
Nona drew a deeper breath and stretched out her hands, hunting for Yisht. She took her cue from the orientation of the warrior’s body and staggered away, trailing a hand against the wall.
She moved on through the ancient subterranean night, hoping with each passing yard that she would spot Yisht’s abandoned lantern. As she covered more and more ground and still failed to see Yisht’s light her desperation began to grow again. Surely she hadn’t escaped throttling to die lost in the wormholes of the Rock!
Nona called on her clarity mantra, seeking the calm and open mind that Sister Pan had shown her. She advanced more slowly, every sense extended.
Smoke. She sniffed. Sniffed again.
A minute of hunting on her hands and knees and she found the oily residue around Yisht’s burned-out lantern. From there it took another minute to recover her own, standing where she had left it, hooded and with the ghost of a flame hovering over a short wick. Picking it up felt like lifting another novice and her limbs trembled with weakness but the comfort of a light in a dark place cannot be overstated.
‘Ancestor! You look terrible.’ Ruli grabbed Nona’s arms and, pulling her forward, wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Oh hells! Your neck!’
‘Is she following you?’ Clera, eyes wide, peering over the barrel.
‘She’s down.’ Nona whispered the words.
‘We’d better hurry.’ Ara stepped forward, giving Nona a quick hug. ‘Lead the way.’
They found Yisht face down on the tunnel floor, her sword in two pieces against the wall, two deep grooves sliced into the piece of blade still attached to the hilt.
‘How in the …’ Clera picked it up, holding it towards the lantern in Nona’s hand.
Nona pulled the lantern away. ‘We have … to move her.’ A pained whisper. ‘No time.’
Clera knelt at the warrior’s side. ‘I need to give her the rest first.’ She took out another of Ara’s old perfume vials and held Yisht’s mouth open while she tipped the contents in. Given orally it was the maximum safe dose. Safe-ish. According to the tables the Poisoner had made them memorize it should keep a small adult incapable for several days. The main danger apart from suffocation was dehydration.