Scion of Dragonclaw (Nysta Book 8) Page 23

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “Course you do. He told me to fuck off. Like that. Did I get a thankyou from him? Did he bother to remember our friendship? No fucking way. Just got a kick in the ass, like you gave me. You lot. You know, Fulfar calls you the Idiot Trio. He ain’t wrong. You’re a bunch of fucking selfish assholes grabbing all you can get on the blood and sweat of people you fooled into thinking you actually gave a shit about.”

  Anj blinked. Still couldn’t process the news. “Sagg? No way. Can’t be dead.”

  Coff rushed him. Slammed Anj against the wall and put his hands around his throat. “You listen to me, you fuck! I respected you! I believed you! I did everything you fucking asked!”

  Anj grabbed Coff’s wrists. Wrenched. “Get off me, you piece of shit! You ain’t so great as you think. Gave us all we wanted? What about when you left us to go work for the Bluehats? We took you back when that didn’t pay off for you, didn’t we? Took you back and you repaid our fucking generosity by spending most of your shifts in taverns. Yeah, we know about that. We always knew. And you ain’t ever done half of what you were supposed to do. Those kids you were supposed to train? They’re still fucking useless.”

  “That’s on you, not me. You wanted cheap. Ain’t my fault.”

  “Bullshit. You had your chance. Face it, Coff. You fucked it up.”

  “We were supposed to be friends!”

  “Friends?” Anj nearly choked. And his fist came up. Smashed into Coff’s chin with a crack. Sent the big man reeling. “Friends? The fuck are friends in this business? I thought Bran and Sagg were my friends. Didn’t stop Bran selling us out. Did it? Didn’t stop that. No. They’re walking away with everything. Leaving me behind. You don’t hear me squealing, do you? No. I’m just taking what’s owed and fucking leaving. What you should’ve done, you pathetic piece of shit.”

  Animal moan.

  And then Coff’s fist speared out of the dark and splashed hot into Anj’s nose. Crushed it inward and left him screaming, blood drooling from loosened lips.

  Sparks of light flecked vision.

  “Really? Take what’s owed?” Coff’s boot kicked into Anj’s side. “Good idea, you cunt. Good fucking idea. Seems you emptied the safe for me.”

  “No.” Rattled teeth spat bloodied foam. “It’s mine.”

  “Mine now.”

  They wrestled with the pack, each man wide-eyed and bellowing at the other.

  Wordless phrases.

  Phrases pulled from cold bellies.

  Hate and grief.

  “I know you killed Dek,” Coff choked as he kicked Anj again. Hoping to use the words to shock the other man into letting go.

  Anj took the blow and lashed back, catching the bigger man’s hip with his heel. The wheeled around and round in tugging circles. Bounced off the walls. Snarling and spitting. “More bullshit! Dek quit. He couldn’t take it.”

  “Yeah, he quit. But I wondered why he didn’t show for his last shift. So I went to his place. And he weren’t there. Then I did some digging. Heard Jorg say last he’d seen him, he was heading downstairs. I went looking. Found his body in the sewers. Lucky the crocs hadn’t got him, which is what you were counting on, wasn’t it?”

  “So?” Almost shrieked. “Coulda been anyone! Didn’t have to be us! No one liked him!”

  “He told you, didn’t he? Told you the whole fucking lot of you were shit. He weren’t the type to be quiet about it. He’d have told you right to your fucking face. And guess what?” Stomped hard and drew a pained yelp. Enough pain for Anj to release the pack. Greed lit Coff’s face as he snatched the straps and pushed himself free. “He was fucking right. You’re useless. The fucking lot of you. A waste of fucking space.”

  Anj dived with rabid fury.

  Arms swinging.

  With both hands around the pack, Coff took the first punch. Was able to bring left arm free to block the second.

  Third shattered his eye socket, and he doubled over.

  Enough for Anj to hit him.

  And hit him.

  And hit him.

  “Die, you fucking bastard!”

  Glint of steel as Coffs fell on his face, the pack trapped under his body.

  Anj’s knife plunged into Coff’s exposed back. Between shoulders.

  There was no scream.

  Just a wet moan as the big man’s spine split in two. The heavy blade penetrated heart, turning it into a swollen mass of pumping gore.

  And the Shadowed Halls took Coff with a sigh.

  “Die,” Anj growled again. Panting hard.

  Fell back against the wall, unconsciously probing his shattered nose with bruised fingers. Blood streamed down his face and his skin was pale and white. Two more bruises pushed at his cheeks. Water streamed from eyes.

  Agony thumped his head from somewhere deep inside and his gaze eventually found the pack under Coff’s dead weight.

  “Mine,” he said.

  Sent flecks of blood and spit as he choked the word. Scurried toward the body and began hauling the pack free.

  Then, clinging to the bloodsoaked pack, rose unsteadily.

  He knew a way out of the Halls.

  All he had to do was make it out. Grinning, despite the loss of two teeth, he lurched sideways and stumbled over the corpse. Dribbled spit on its head as he went.

  How dare that bastard speak to him like that?

  Who’d he think he was?

  “You were nothin’, you bastard,” Anj muttered. “Nothin’.”

  The shadows in front of him came alive with a sudden explosive gust of wind. Something streaked into his path. Then hit him.

  He nearly dropped the pack as he tumbled across Coff’s body.

  Sticky wet blood between his fingers.

  He rolled loose. Panicked. Light popping in his vision and his heart spinning in his chest. Looked up to see an elf, blurred through the wetness of his eyes.

  Small thing.

  But with cruel violet stare.

  Watching him with a look of expectation. What was she waiting for? His hand fisted around his knife.

  He’d carve her up.

  Only, his arm wasn’t moving.

  Why wouldn’t it move?

  He looked down.

  Sticky red.

  Wasn’t Coff’s.

  It was his.

  Spilling in a steady river of crimson. Washing the floor with his life.

  He pulled the pack closer.

  “No,” he moaned. “No.”

  The elf dropped down in front of him, lips spreading into a cruel grin. Her knife, still drooling blood. His blood.

  “That all you got to say for yourself, feller? Or you one of them silent kinds? Try miming. Go on, feller. Give it your best.”

  Anj died without another word.

  But then, she hadn’t expected to hear anything from him in the first place.

  Klista stepped up and looked down at the pale-faced man with the big red nose above swollen red lips. “He’s kinda funny looking,” she said.

  “Figured he would be,” the elf said, tugging the pack from dead fingers. “Everything about this Unified bunch tells me they’re just a couple of clowns.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The elf pushed a tough pace. A pace the young Shiv did her best to maintain.

  Klista panted hard as they made it up another narrow curl of stairs. “Where are we going? Tell me we’re close.”

  The elf cocked her head.

  Listening.

  Somewhere far to her right. She looked down the passage. Dark and nebulous, magelights flickering further ahead. Not bright enough to light the way very well.

  The red glow which had helped her navigate was fading. Softening.

  Leaving a deep purple edge to most things.

  Still made her eyes itch.

  She pointed. “This way. Ain’t sure how close.”

  Klista groaned, but followed. Had tucked her cane sword into her belt, thumb tucked over the hilt.


  And the elf knew the exhaustion she felt.

  Could feel it herself.

  An elf should be able to run for days. When she was Jukkala, she’d done so more than once.

  But since Talek’s Cage had opened, she found herself unable to keep a savage pace. As though her body had traded endurance for impossible bursts of speed and power.

  Sweat trickled down the back of her neck.

  Under her coat, her jacket felt heavy. Burdened by the dozens of knives hidden within and in sheaths on the outside. Anj’s pack heavy on her shoulders.

  Heat.

  Muscle burned raw, leaving legs feeling too elastic.

  And the worms?

  They hardly moved. Still not moving.

  The elf rubbed the back of her neck. Wiped the grimy sweat.

  Heard a rustle of cloth against stone and stopped.

  A quiet clink of metal on metal.

  Klista nearly collided into her. Managed to reel to a halt, swaying on tired feet. Opened her mouth to demand explanation, but shut it again when she saw the elf drop into a fighter’s crouch.

  Violet eyes penetrating dark, Nysta stared ahead.

  Warble of voices.

  They hadn’t seen anyone since leaving Anj bleeding out.

  And she hadn’t expected to. The Halls had felt emptier. The air more muffled. As though the guards had completely abandoned it.

  Maybe Hideg had gained control again. He wouldn’t want anyone to interfere with her. Not now.

  Or maybe Unified had finally realised she was just picking them off and recalled their ineffective guards. Former couriers, if Sagg could be believed. Maybe these were better.

  The whispering clickclacked against her ears.

  She held a hand up. Three fingers.

  Klista nodded.

  Nodded again when three became four.

  There was nowhere to hide.

  The passage forked ahead in a tight junction. She couldn’t be sure from which side they were coming. Inching closer, she kept her body low. Hand coiled up behind her waist. Fist wrapped tight around The Ugly.

  The heavy blade had served well in the cramped Halls.

  It was a place where accuracy couldn’t be guaranteed, so brutality was favoured.

  Quick.

  Fast.

  Hard.

  Its handle was beginning to feel more comfortable with every kill.

  Klista nudged up behind, angling to the elf’s left. Cane sword low in both hands. Ready.

  Mouth a tight line, the Shiv shook her head so a drop of sweat dislodged from her brow. Glanced once at the elf, then bunched her body down and waited.

  Listening.

  Both stretching the limits of their hearing.

  “…says she has to be around here.”

  “This is bullshit, Tarn. You know it. Knucklejaw wouldn’t have had us running around in here.”

  “Ain’t so bad,” a third voice whispered. Feminine. “Guards have been piss easy. They’re supposed to be tough. Maybe the boss was right. They’re just for show.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Liss. No one’s talking to you.”

  “Don’t you fucking-” Metal clinking.

  “Quiet, the both of you!” Tarn growled. Quiet hiss. “Talbot. Move to front, will you. Check the corner.”

  The elf sighed.

  “Smart fuck,” she whispered. Then moved as fast as she could toward the junction.

  Each touch of boot against the sandy ground sounded like an earthquake to her ears.

  Each step making her flinch.

  “I’m on it,” Talbot said. She heard him shuffling.

  Which side?

  Left or right?

  She jerked a thumb for Klista to take the left corner.

  The elf took the right.

  Pressed against the wall.

  Step step.

  Squinting into the dark.

  Purple alchemical glow wobbling, dimming with every blink of her eyes.

  Tip of nose peeked past the wall in front.

  And he saw Klista.

  Managed to choke; “Shit!”

  And died as The Ugly stabbed into his throat. The elf twisted wrist. Pulled, feeling blade gush free on tide of red. Strings of flesh tugged steel but were easily severed.

  Klista shot past, low purr as she swung the slender blade. The sword arced up. Entered just under the nameless Bonebreaker’s chin. Tore through the middle of his face. Burst out the top of his skull and sent a shower of blood across the last two.

  He stood there. Eyes unblinking.

  As his face fell apart like a broken mask.

  The elf leapt Talbot’s crumpled body. Tearing down the passage after the two Bonebreakers fleeing as fast as they could. The young woman shrieking at the top of her lungs; “Fuck! Tarn? Tarn? Fuck!”

  Over and over.

  A Fortune in Grey whipped from its sheath inside her coat and was thrown in one drifting movement. Blade found Tarn’s liver. Dropped him squealing.

  The elf threw a look over her shoulder. Saw Klista rushing to catch up.

  Kicked one of the nameless Bonebreaker’s severed arms as she came, almost dancing through the dark. The limb bounced in the echoes of the Shiv’s nasty giggle.

  The elf jabbed a finger at Tarn’s writhing body and Klista pounced.

  Ahead, Liss slammed into a wall she hadn’t seen. Was too busy looking over her shoulder. Too fuelled with fear to think straight.

  Bounced.

  Nearly lost her footing.

  Spun in time to see the elf hurtling from the shadow.

  The elf got a look at her face. A hard face. Thin scars across forehead and cheek.

  Hawkish nose and a mouth used to carrying a sneer.

  Now carrying an expression she wasn’t used to.

  Terror.

  Held up both hands. Empty. High-pitch wail. “No, please! Please don’t kill me!”

  The Ugly took the woman in the shoulder. Tore down, the power of the rip spinning her in a full circle. Could have been enough to send her to the ground, but it was the elf’s boot which dropped her.

  Boot thudding into the woman’s thigh, just under the slave irons hanging from her belt. Source of the metal clinking sound which had first drawn the elf’s attention.

  Nysta’s lip curled with distaste.

  The woman’s breathing came in frightened gasps as she tried to staunch the flow of blood spewing from her shoulder. Moaned in bubbled swallows.

  “Oh, shit, no. Tarl? Tarl! Help me, Tarl.”

  “Tarl’s dead,” Klista said, coming up from behind. Jerked a thumb over her shoulder to where a body lay in chunks of gleaming flesh. “See for yourself if you like.”

  Liss’ eyes went wild.

  Opened mouth.

  The scream trailed into a ragged howl before it crunched into silence with a fist to the lip.

  Nysta rubbed knuckles. Easing echoes of the thunderous impact from her hand.

  The woman stared back with empty eyes.

  Time seemed to slow.

  Then the empty eyes gained a measure of feral hate as acceptance of her fate squirmed into her brain.

  “Go on, then, you long-eared bitch. Kill me.”

  The elf’s smile lacked mirth. “Just wanted your attention, is all. Reckon I got it?”

  Liss spat, but didn’t have the strength to spit far enough to hit the elf. The gaping wound down her shoulder hung open in flaps, blood cascading.

  Let out a curdled whine as pain bounded through her body.

  Squeezed eyes shut. “Fuck you. I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’.”

  “Everyone says that,” Nysta said. Prodded the wound with the knife’s tip. “Everyone changes their mind. In the end.”

  “Why should I? I’m dyin’ anyway. What can you do? Hurt me? Well, I’ve been hurt before. This ain’t the first time I been cut. And you can whittle away at my fucking face if you like. Ain’t the first time for that, neither.”

  “No one’s hu
rt you like I can.”

  “Go to the Shadowed Halls, you bitch!” Hissed. A cut snake cornered but still baring fangs. “Whatever you can dish, I can fucking take! When the Boss finds you, you’re fucked. He’ll kill you. Like he killed Knucklejaw. You think you’re tough? The Boss ripped that ork like nothin’ you ain’t ever seen. And he’ll rip you, too. Rip you worse than this.”

  “Someone killed Knucklejaw?” Klista sounded impressed. “Must’ve taken some work.”

  “No work at all for the Boss.”

  Nysta let the knife tap against the wound. Ignored the woman’s wince. “Tough, is he?”

  “Tougher than you.”

  “Big call.”

  “Only wish I could see it.” Liss’s voice faltered. “Wish I could see you get yours. You killed my friends. They were all I had.”

  “Well,” the elf sighed. Drew her arm back and sent The Ugly tearing through chest to end the girl’s life. Slashed sideways, spilling gruesome innards and splintered bone. “Ain’t one to break up good friendships.”

  Klista sucked on her teeth and looked around. Down at her blood-spattered coat.

  “Tell you one thing, Nysta,” the Shiv said. “I ain’t ever made this much mess before. It’s kind of fun. But don’t you think we’re leaving a trail easy enough for even these United fellers to find us?”

  The elf lifted herself to her feet and peered down the passageway. Searching for the source of sound drifting through the winding passages. Nodded, before showing teeth in a cruel grin. “Don’t sweat it, kid,” she said. “Followers of gore have poor reputations.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Music.

  Calling her.

  She tracked it through blind tunnels and stairwells which sometimes led nowhere.

  Killed a handful more guards and a couple of lost Bonebreakers.

  The guards were on the run, but their maps weren’t good enough to get them where they wanted to go.

  “Come on, Joll,” one guard said, seconds before Klista leapt from a stairwell and split him in half. “That ain’t the right way.”

  “Quit your bitchin’ and follow the map,” Joll snapped.

  “We have! It keeps leading us in fucking circles. If you pulled your head out of your tight fucking ass, you’d see it!”

  “Might explain why we keep finding you fellers around,” the elf growled, spitting from the dark and putting a hole through Joll’s chest.