“Help me, Niven,” Cat breathed and then her hand was a blur. She reached into her vest and hurled the knife she retrieved from it at the retreating Bazira. They all heard the sound of her blade tearing into flesh, and the man dropped to the ground soundlessly.
Without thinking Niven shouted, “Illuria!” and felt the healing glow infuse him. He threw himself front of Cat just as the adherent, screaming his own sacred word, sent three bolts of ice at her, while the other Bazira sliced at her his sword. The cold stabbed Niven’s gut and the sword sheared skin off his left arm to the bone. Drunk with pain, he pitched forward and the ground rose to meet his cheek with a rough welcome that rattled his brain. His eyes found the sword Cat had given him while above him the bounty hunter’s grunts of battle were mingled with that of the Bazira.
Niven whispered the sacred word again, and inhaled the healing as if it were air. Warmth melted the icy pain in his gut and his arm went numb under his blood-drenched sleeve. He reached his right arm out and closed his fingers around the sword handle. Booted feet shuffled around him, grit sprayed his face. Cat cursed and her voice was full of pain. Niven gripped the sword and rose to his feet.
The figures of Cat and the two Bazira danced in the flashing lightning. She slammed the pommel of her sword across one man’s face, and sent him sprawling. The other closed and opened his fist just as she whirled to face him.
“Krystak!”
Ice lanced from the palm of the adherent and into Cat’s thigh. She cried out, the ice crippling her as she turned to block the sword of the other man. Her attack was weak and the man’s sword slid down her own in his downward strike. Steel sang against steel. Niven watched it all as if they were under water, slow and murky in the dark. The Bazira flipped his wrist and Cat’s sword flew out of her grasp. Niven watched in horror as the second man hauled himself from the mud and came at Cat from behind.
Niven scrambled to his feet, gripped his sword, point down, in both hands and raised his arms. He flew at the adherent and sunk his sword between the man’s shoulder blades. The blade scraped bone and the sword was jarred from Niven’s hands; he hadn’t the strength to hold onto it.
The adherent arched his back and let loose a scream into the storm. The sword jutted from his back and wagged slightly from side to side. Blood burbled from his open mouth as he drowned slowly in it, until finally pitching forward face first. Bones crunched as his nose flattened and then he was still.
Niven fell to his knees again and watched with a stupefied fascination as Cat rolled away from the remaining Bazira’s killing blow that would have swept her head from her shoulders. She scrambled on all fours to where her sword had tumbled.
She’ll never find it, Niven thought dully and he was right. The Bazira caught Cat by the heel and gave her a yank. She hit the ground with a whump and kicked as the bigger man wrenched her ankle, flipping her over. He attacked and from where he knelt, all Niven could see was the big man’s body over hers. He whispered Illuria and felt the glow clear his head. He rose to his feet and raced at the struggling pair, not sure what he would do when he got there.
There was a sickening sound, as a knife puncturing a fat wineskin. I’m too late. Too late!
The Bazira lay over Cat, unmoving.
“Niven…help me.” Cat’s voice sounded tight and strained from under the big man. Niven gripped the Bazira by the collar and rolled him off her. One of her other throwing knives protruded from the man’s throat another in his gut; his face bore a final grimace of complete and utter surprise.
Cat got to her feet and Niven let out a cry as lightning lit up the night. Her face was a mask of rain-streaked blood.
“It’s his,” she said, and wiped her face with her sleeve. The last of the orange coloring in her hair leaked off to stain her shirt. Her hair, though cropped messily, was thick and raven black. She looked him up and down. “You all right?”
“This isn’t good,” he muttered, indicating is left arm. “But I can heal it. You?”
“I could use some help.” She rubbed her thigh. “What you did…jumping in front of those men…”
“It’s the only thing I knew to do. It almost wasn’t enough.”
“But it was,” she said. She held his gaze a moment more and then chucked him on the shoulder before turning to retrieve her fallen sword.
“It wasn’t enough to save Ilior. Or Ori.” Niven shook his head. Water dripped from his hair. “I just…ran away.”
Cat sheathed her blade, wincing as her wounds protested. She limped over to the Bazira adherent. “The others were captured,” she said. “The three that chased us meant to take us alive. Ori and Ilior are alive too.”
“You sound so sure,” he said and shook his head. “Ilior would have fought them to the death.”
“Ilior will keep himself alive to find Selena,” Cat said. “And he doesn’t look so good lately, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Yes,” Niven said. “I noticed.”
She planted her boot on the back of the dead adherent’s skull and yanked the sword from his back. “This is yours, I believe,” she said with a wry smile. “Come on. Before others come looking.”
“Where should we go?” Niven whispered as they slipped away, southward.
“To find some cover. A place to rest and then you can heal us up.” Cat grimaced with each limping step. “Bastard iced my leg and twisted my ankle. After, we find that temple Ori told of. That’s where the others will be.”
Niven nodded. “Good. Yes. We will help them.” The words sounded right and true, and yet he could not shake the taint of fear off them.
I am no warrior, no matter how many swords I bury in the backs of my enemies.
He looked at Cat lurching grimly beside him, muttering curses.
But tonight I will be.
Darkpool
He fell again. This time, when he hit the ground, a heavy silence came with the flash of pain. It was so quiet. And dark. Sebastian closed his eyes and he kept them shut.
The silence resolved into a constant susurration of sound. A sssshhhh that blocked out all other noises, like a curtain. He tried to sink back into the quiet, but awareness kept him afloat. The susurration was rain. Heavy rain falling in thick sheets over dried leaves. It soaked him through and the cold bit him. Muffled voices were breaking through the curtain too, and he knew that pain as soon to follow.
Selena…
He heard Jude. He opened one eye. When lightning flashed, he could see the drops lancing down from the sky like silver needles, drenching Jude and the handful of Bazira who ringed her.
She barked an order and Sebastian felt rough hands under his arms. He was hauled to standing and the pain mauled him at his burnt and stabbed shoulder, at the back of his head. That was the worst. A heavy ache that seemed to burrow deeper into his skull with every passing moment. That pain scared him.
You’re dead already, Accora had told him. She may be right.