The Wall of Darkest Shadow (Nysta Book 5) Page 13

  It seemed to do more of the killing than the blade itself.

  Her mind was a bleak canvas. All she could hear was the man's wet screams and her own advice to the young axewoman downstairs.

  Just do it.

  Don't think.

  Just do it.

  The Jukkala had trained her well. Drawn out the worst from her, and set it free. Assassination, her trainers had told her, wasn't always clean. It wasn't always about slipping a blade between someone's ribs. Or dropping poison into their cup.

  Sometimes it was about retribution. Sometimes revenge. Other times, just cold-hearted cruelty. Whatever the king wanted, the king was given. No deviations.

  Asa wanted Bucky's head.

  Well. She was going to get it.

  Her promise to the man meant nothing.

  What was the value of a promise?

  The thought suddenly disturbed her more than what she was doing and her mind flashed a glimpse of Jagtooth. Distrust clear in his eyes.

  This is why he didn't trust her. Why he despised what she was. Not the killing.

  It was the chaos. The filth. The betrayal. These were what turned the soldier's stomach.

  She almost pulled the knife free. Almost stopped.

  But she set her teeth. It was too late now.

  His screams stopped halfway through as he drowned on blood and an orgy of pain. On his final agonised exhalation, the thick mass of writhing black tendrils seemed to exhale with him. They floated free of his flesh and curled like a kitten of smoke around the metal of the blade.

  She wasn't sure of the nature of the enchantment, but it obviously enjoyed killing in a way even she found disturbing. A terrible blade, she thought.

  Mouth set in grim line because every blade had its purpose no matter how monstrous.

  She had one hand gripping his hair. Her mouth a rictus of determination as she took his head. It wasn't the first time, and it made her think of Raste.

  Which only made her cut even harder.

  When she had the decapitated head in her hand, dripping blood and gore, she rolled away from the desk and stood for a moment in the shadow of her deeds. Mellow with revulsion, mouth downturned. Looked at the butchered body and wondered, not for the first time, when she'd actually lost that part of her which truly cared.

  Was it really when she'd been in that alley with her shiv?

  Or was it before?

  Was she born a monster? Or had she made herself into one? The blame surely couldn't be at the feet of the Jukkala. They didn't create her ability to kill. They'd simply shown her how. The instinct and desire had been hers.

  She looked down at the knife in her hand, mind still wrestling to identify what emotion she was supposed to feel right now.

  Found herself smiling a humourless grin as the knife's name floated into her head.

  She flicked her wrist, sending the excess blood splattering across the wall to join the rest. Sheathed Queen of Hearts before wrenching A Flaw in the Glass free and skipping to the doorway.

  She needed a sack. Maybe downstairs.

  Which was when she heard clashes of steel and a wet thunk.

  An agonised shriek.

  Followed by Melganaderna's shout echoing up the stairs, “Nysta!”

  The elf flew down the stairs, grisly prize still in one hand. Leapt across the rail to land on the long table. Began scrounging for a sack. “Here,” she said, thrusting Bucky's head at the young axewoman. “Hold this a second.”

  “Is that-?”

  “Yeah. I know he's a little short for you, princess, but I'm guessing we're about to have company?”

  “One got loose. He'll bring friends.”

  She found a small bag she figured Asa would approve of. Emptied it of its contents and held it out for Melganaderna to dump the gory trophy inside. Took it back. “Let's move, then.”

  Melganaderna rushed to the front of the house, then jerked back as an arrow sliced in from the dark to chew into the wall beside her face. She eyed the quivering shaft as the sound of rushing boots got louder. “I'd say the front's covered. Can we take the back?”

  “Well, we can't take the basement,” the elf said with a savage grin, jerking her thumb to the small hatch. “They'll only squeeze us in down there.”

  The young axewomen leapt out the same window they'd come in through. Landed on both feet, axe in front of her. Nysta followed, dragging at Melganaderna's arm as she heard the muffled sound of booted feet rushing down the side of the house. Muffled because the rain was coming down hard, battering the rooftops.

  They sprinted into the open, pushing toward one of the dark side streets as rain battered the rooftops and hammered at their backs. Another arrow whistled past, but there was no chance to shoot straight in the storm. Still, she allowed they could get lucky. The skin between her shoulders goosepimpled at the thought.

  Angry shouts echoed from all directions.

  “Shit,” Melganaderna spat, throwing herself out of reach of a soldier trying to cut her open with a sword. He'd come from nowhere, and while he'd seen the purple glow of the axe and ducked accordingly, he'd missed the hungry grin on the elf's face as she launched at him.

  I am Joe's Cold Sweat tore into his side, spinning him around.

  “Bitch,” he gasped, slashing crazily.

  And died as Torment sheared his torso in half.

  “Asshole,” Melganaderna shot back.

  They jumped the twitching body as more soldiers, drawn from all corners of town by the shrieks of their dying leader, poured into the street behind them. Ran aimless through the night.

  “This way,” Nysta pointed to the top of the wall. Thought maybe they could make it back to the tunnels under the town. “Up.”

  “But there's no fucking way down!”

  “Always a way down,” the elf growled, thoughts working in a frenzy of patterns in her head. “Just might hurt is all.”

  They ran along the walkway, sprinting through illusionary guards strolling along the walls as though nothing was happening. As she ran through one, Nysta couldn't help lifting her hand in front of her face as though pushing aside spiderwebs. The sensation was almost the same.

  “Fuck.”

  Guards were running along the walkway from the other side. More had followed behind, hoping to sandwich them between the two forces. The thunder of their boots was loud enough to be heard over the rain still drumming down hard.

  Nysta grabbed Melganaderna and pulled her to a stop. “Here,” she said, tossing Bucky's head over the wall. It landed below with a startled thud. “Climb down.”

  “You can't be fucking serious.”

  “It's not so bad. Look at it. It's never been tooled. Just blocks of stone. Plenty of handholds. But it'll be slippery as fuck, so be careful. Go fast, but not too fast.”

  Melganaderna studied the elf hard. “Really? Climb down?”

  “You can stay here if you'd prefer.”

  The young axewomen dropped Torment over the side with a wince and then hauled herself over the battlements.

  Following, Nysta scampered down the rough stone. Moving like a spider. She'd been climbing walls for as long as she could remember. Got halfway down, and then dropped. Landed in thick mud which cushioned the impact. “Let go,” she hissed back up at Melganaderna who was struggling not to fall. “Just jump. It's all mud down here. Try not to roll or you'll bust your knees or something.”

  “Shit.”

  Melganaderna landed with a graceless crash, but somehow avoided damaging anything. Got to her feet just as the soldiers began peering over the top. Nysta helped her up, then grabbed the bag with its grisly trophy inside.

  “Run.”

  They ran as the first arrows rained down, spearing into the wet ground.

  “We're heading the wrong way,” Melganaderna shouted. “The Doomgate's that way!”

  “So's the cleric,” the elf said. “And I figure they all know we're here, now.”

  “We can't just leave!”


  “We ain't.” The elf's face was grim as she aimed herself for the massive black tower spearing up out of the Wall. It was far right from the Doomgate, but close enough she thought they could make it. Close enough the soldiers climbing down the walls behind them would have to push to try and catch up.

  There was no other way to get inside the barbican than through the gates of the town. And she couldn't count on any ways through closer to the Doomgate. Thought if there had been, Asa would have already used them to get away from the town. At least send messengers through it.

  The tower was her only option, she thought. All she could do was hope there was a way inside. Heading to the closest tower also meant they wouldn't have to run the gauntlet of trenches. Could avoid the danger of the cleric.

  If he was really there, she thought.

  Then ducked as a beam of solid white light shot past her head. It fizzled so close she could feel it burn through hair.

  “Fuck.”

  Melganaderna's voice raised in pitch. “Cleric!”

  “Reckon their force just got stronger,” the elf muttered wryly.

  “That some kind of joke?” Melganaderna threw herself sideways to avoid being melted by a second beam of light. “We've got a cleric trying to kill us. A fucking cleric! How can you even joke about that?”

  “Just trying to stay on the light side is all,” the elf said through heavy breaths. Rolled her body over a dead tree and kept running without pause, wiping rain from her eyes. A flash of rage shocked outward from her guts. “Which ain't easy when hate flows through you like this.”

  “I wish I could be more like you,” Melganaderna said, frustration in her voice. “I wish I couldn't feel anything.”

  “Told you before, kid.” Another bolt of light tore through the air. This time high and to their left. “Ain't about feeling. It's about doing. And all we need to be doing right now is running. So shut your mouth and run faster!”

  “Fuck you. You're the one slowing us down! Are all you elfs that fucking short?”

  They hit a small rise and the mud became so thick they sank almost to their knees, letting the men get close enough for the elf to spot the look in their eyes. Eyes which screamed a need to avenge their murdered leader.

  “They look pissed,” she said.

  “I wonder why,” Melganaderna returned. She finally broke free of the deep mud and they skipped up onto waterlogged grass. Paused only long enough for the cleric to send another bolt of light their way, but it was wild again as the main struggled with exhaustion and the weather. Thunder clattered through the clouds above. Lightning flicked with forked tongues. And the rain poured harder. “All I can say is I'm thankful he can't aim.”

  “Reckon he's on the wrong side,” the elf called back, spinning away and moving quickly toward the yawning opening of the tower. “A real trooper like that should be with the empire, not against it.”

  Melganaderna looked up, awed by the sheer size of the tower. “I can't see how high it is,” she panted. “But even if we do get inside, they'll only follow. We won't be safe.”

  “It'll be a lot less safe to stay here. Besides, the corridors move,” Nysta said, clenching her teeth. “That's what they said, remember? Close the doors, and they move. So, we close the fucking doors.”

  “Yeah, but the Wall's broken! Anyone who goes wandering through them doesn't come out again. That includes us. Or did you miss that part? We don't know where the fuck we'll end up. And the goblins? What about them? They're killing everything.”

  “Your choice. Stay outside and die. Or go inside and die. Me, I'd like to get out of the rain.”

  Melganaderna looked over her shoulder. “We won't make it. They're catching fast.”

  “We'll make it,” the elf said grimly, increasing their pace. Held up the sack. “We got a head start.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Melganaderna was still giggling, the sound touched by the insanity of their situation, when they threw themselves through the tower's wide ornate doors.

  Nysta let the young axewoman drop to the ground and worked on barring the massive doors. The soldiers weren't far behind them, and a bolt of energy smashed into one of the doors as she was closing it. The impact nearly threw her back, but she let out a snarl and pushed hard.

  Rammed the bolt home and worked quickly to lower the heavy wooden beams which served to reinforce it. Then turned to look around. Couldn't see much.

  Drew A Flaw in the Glass for light. “Come on. That won't hold them for long.”

  “I can't go much further,” Melganaderna gasped. “I can jog for days, but we've been running since the Bloods. I'm done.”

  “You've done good, kid. But we need to keep moving. Now, don't take this the wrong way, but we need a room.”

  She looked around. The walls were the same dark stone covered in slick black ooze which stained them even darker. Five archways promised escape, but none looked more promising than the next.

  Two led upward. One down. The others branched off to the left and right, deeper into the Wall.

  The elf chose upward, for no reason than it was closest.

  Soon regretted it. Even her own thighs were on fire as she climbed the chiselled stone. Melganaderna leaned against the wall, practically dragging herself up. Her breathing was heated gasps from a blacksmith's bellows. Getting faster.

  For herself, Nysta could feel her heart thud hard, and her pulse beat at the sides of her head. Her vision was speckled and everything seemed to glitter. Which made her hesitate.

  When she was with the Jukkala, she'd run for days. Sprinted further distances. Had once been chased along the rooftops from one side of Lostlight to the other and hardly broke a sweat.

  Lately, she wanted to eat more. Sleep more. Rest more.

  Was she getting weak?

  Downstairs, the door shook as the soldiers battered hard and the cleric sent waves of energy smashing into it. One of the bolts pinged loose with a clatter and skittered across the floor.

  “Shit.” Nysta spat, though her mouth was mostly dry. A ragged train of emotions struggled for dominance. Fear. Impatience. Lust for violence. She threw them all to the wind and waited to see which one would come back.

  Melganaderna let out a deep groan. “It won't hold them for long. I don't think those doors were meant to keep anyone out.” She looked up the long narrow staircase. “How high do you think this goes?”

  “Hopefully not right to the top,” the elf said.

  “Maybe it's not worth it,” the young axewoman said. She toyed with the razor edge of her axe. The heavy double-bladed weapon seemed to sing at her touch, the purple runes glowing brighter. “Maybe we should make our stand. Right here. I can take a few tops off with this.”

  “Keep your shirt on, kid. We'll keep moving for now. If we're gonna fight an army, best we find a better place than on the fucking stairs.”

  They dragged themselves upward, sweat slick on both their faces. Soaked clothing still leaving a damp trail behind them.

  The elf's ears buzzed as the walls hummed. Light flickered between the stones, guiding their way.

  The door boomed, hit again by the cleric's blasts.

  “They're not giving up.” Melganaderna squeezed her breaths between gasps.

  “No. They ain't.” She pressed a hand against the wall. It felt slick. Cold. But it held her weight, and right then that's all she wanted. “Any second, they'll get through. It'll take a few seconds for them to figure which route we took. Chances are, they'll be up our ass not long after that. They've been sitting outside resting while we've kept moving.”

  “We're running out of options, then. We need a room. A door.” Melganaderna eyed the walls sourly. “I haven't seen a single one yet.”

  “Shit,” the elf said suddenly as a river of fear ran like quicksilver from the icy ball in her guts. “I think I've fucked up.”

  “How?”

  She felt sick to her stomach. The fear rolled quicker, rasping sharp against her spine and guts
. “The doors. Look around. This place is the same as the Keep. Sure, it's not as dead. But it's dying, and it looks the same, right? Well, you remember how the doors were hidden?”

  “Oh, fuck,” Melganaderna moaned. “Only Hem or Chukshene can open the doors.”

  “Right. So, unless we find an open one...”

  “We'll be climbing forever.”

  “Or until they catch up.”

  Melganaderna threw herself onto one of the steps, panting. “Fuck this, Nysta. I'm staying here. I'll die my way. Not with my back to them.” She gripped the massive battleaxe's long handle. Patted the heavy orb counterweight and nodded. “I always read about heroes dying in battle. I wanted to die like that. Out in a field. Surrounded a hundred to one. And, as the last one died, he'd cut me open. The bastard. But I didn't want to die like this. Not on some fucking staircase inside a shitty wall.”

  Nysta sat beside her, leaning against the stone. Looked up at the stained ceiling and smiled crookedly. “I never thought about dying. I never read those stories. Death, for me, was always ugly. Too ugly to think about. Better to think about surviving. Maybe die drunk in an inn somewhere.”

  “Survival's temporary,” Melganaderna countered. “Sooner or later, you have to think about living.”

  “Ain't sure it's that easy.”

  “Well, other than survival, Nysta, what do you want? Out of life?”

  The elf shrugged, pushing the echo of Jagtooth's words back out of her head. She was almost beginning to hope the ork was dead. If not, with the continual measure of his disappointment in her ears, she was going to kill him herself. “Right now? I want a beer. And a plate of hot cooked food. And somewhere warm to sleep. Dry.”

  “Simple things.”

  “They're easier to get,” the elf said. “And they don't disappoint.”

  “And you don't believe in anything? I know the Fnordic people don't have a god anymore, but surely there's something to fight for in your life. Chukshene believes in the empire. In saving it. You don't seem to care. You only did this for gold and gems. Don't you have anything else?”

  The elf thought about it. Let her mind wander while the shadows inside her body surged like a flood of worms. Reached up to scratch at the back of her neck, where it felt like they were walking across her skin. Knew now they were beneath, but it didn't stop her scratching.