She flailed, gagging, and broke the surface for the merest of seconds; but then the long-haired demon was on her, its scabrous hands at her throat, forcing her back under into the lightless murk. There was no breath in her to scream. She kicked and thrashed, but the force pressing her down was too strong, relentless. Animal panic seized her. Her lungs burned, reaching for air that was not there. Unconsciousness swarmed at the edges of her vision, a sparkling blanket that encroached further and further towards the centre. She was dimly aware of underwater sounds, the splash and babble of her own weakening resistance, the noise of a rifle shot, the sound of howling as Cailin annihilated another swathe of demons. But it was all fading, receding, and behind her eyes she could see the Weave again, the glittering path that had led her once to the Fields of Omecha and the gatekeeper, Yoru, took her to the Gate but no further. Perhaps this time, she thought, as her struggles
ceased… perhaps this time… she might join her brother on the other side…
But in the Weave of her body, something was stirring, thrashing. A knot was fraying. Consciousness fled her, but there was still something awake inside, fighting and twisting, picking at the fibres of Cailin’s artistry. Her
kana
had been bounded and suppressed, but not beaten. Even as Kaiku’s brain accepted her death, the creature within her fought against it, unravelling its bonds frantically, until with a snap they slipped free—
‘Kaiku!’ Tane cried. He had been casting about frantically for signs of her, having lost her in the chaos of the battle; but only a single lantern remained, held like a treasure by one of the Libera Dramach men, and it was barely light enough to see on the periphery of the luminescence. Now his eyes settled on the demon, hunched over in the water, pressing down on something; and he caught sight of the limp hand floating on the surface next to it. With a howl of anguish, he leaped at the thing. It raised its head in alarm, but at that moment Kaiku’s
kana
finally loosed itself. Tane fell backward, shielding his face, as the demon shrieked and exploded. A blaze of fire threw yellow light across the murky water. The creature’s burning, broken husk staggered away a few steps, animated by some shreds of remnant life; then it teetered, and plunged into the water with a hiss.
The other maku-sheng were squealing anew, having felt the force of the blast. Tane paid them no mind, picking himself up and forging over to Kaiku. He dragged her out of the stench and foulness, and her face came up pale, open eyes gazing crimson and sightless, hair plastered to her cheeks.
‘Not her! No!’ he shouted, though to what god or aspect of fate he addressed his denial he could not say. He sheathed his broken sword, heedless of the demons swarming about in the darkness, and hooked his arms under Kaiku’s armpits, towing her through the water to the path at the edge of the chamber.
Cailin was a fearsome sight in the shifting light of the single lantern, her black hair straggled and her eyes burning red. She looked like a demon herself. She flung her hands out again and again, sending her
kana
racing along the threads of the Weave to tear and knot and twist, rending apart the bodies of the maku-sheng. With each one she destroyed, she sensed the demon spirit fleeing invisibly from the now-useless corpse, rippling away
through the foul water in search of a new host. Yugi fought stolidly alongside her, guarding her back, his rifle firing again and again, repriming between each shot with remarkable speed.
And then a single, keening howl rose from the demon pack. They halted in their attack, drawing to safe distance from the huddled defenders, glaring at them with their shining eyes from the shadows. The whispers began again, though no mouths moved. Yugi kept his finger tensed on the trigger, Purloch standing close to him. Four of the five men of the Libera Dramach floated amid the putrid mass of re-killed corpses. The last, a man just out of his youth called Espyn, held his lantern high and his gore-streaked sword ready, but the tip trembled perceptibly.
There was a stirring, and the demons retreated, backing out of the light into the shadow as smoothly as they had arrived, being swallowed by the tunnels around the chamber. In moments, they had disappeared.
Yugi breathed out a shaky sigh. ‘Gone?’ he asked Cailin.
‘They will come back. We should not be here when they do.’ She looked up suddenly at a movement, and saw Tane heaving Kaiku on to the path at the chamber’s edge. ‘Gods,’ she breathed, and waded through the thigh-high water as fast as she could go. ‘Espyn! Bring the lantern!’ she commanded, and he scuttled to obey.
Kaiku’s lips were blue, her red eyes glazed, her hair lank and sodden. Tane was reaching into her open mouth and pulling out some unidentifiable detritus from her throat as they arrived, haste and fear making him panicky.
‘Is she breathing?’ Purloch asked, casting quick glances at the tunnels behind them in case any of the maku-sheng should return.
Tane ignored him. ‘Can
you
do anything?’ he demanded of Cailin.
‘She slipped my conditioning, got through my barriers,’ Cailin said, with something like wonder in her voice. ‘Heart’s blood, she has a greater talent than I thought.’ She looked at Tane. ‘Without her conscious control, her
kana
would rebel if I tried. It would kill her.’ She missed the irony of her statement, but nobody felt like making a joke of it.
‘Then I will do it,’ Tane replied. He crossed his hands and pumped her chest with the heel of his palm, then put his lips to hers and blew breath into her lungs. How cruel that it should be like this, he thought; their first kiss, so cold and foul-tasting and passionless.
But then he was at her chest again, pumping, breathing, pumping, breathing, while the others looked at him as if he was mad. None of them knew the technique for reviving drowning victims, but Tane had learned it from Enyu’s priests long ago.
‘Wake up, for the gods’ sake!’ he shouted at her, pumping again. ‘This is not the end of your path! You have an oath.
An oath
.’ Another breath, blowing hot life into her waterlogged lungs. Then pumping. ‘You’re too damned stubborn to die like this!’ he cried.
And as if Omecha himself had reached down and touched the dead woman beneath his hands, she jerked and spasmed into life, rolling on to her side and vomiting bilious sewer water across the path. She retched and retched, cleansing herself agonisingly, as Tane laughed with joy and tears ran down his face and he gave praise to the gods. Yugi clapped him on the back in congratulation, calling him a miracle-worker. Kaiku’s retching gradually subsided, and she lay gasping like a landed fish, weak but unhurt.
Cailin shook her head in amazement, a smile on her lips, and wondered how many lives her potential apprentice had left.
Thirty
Dawn came, and the battle raged on. The forces of Blood Kerestyn had made little headway in breaching the city walls. The mighty western gates were closed against them, and their ladders were thrown back time and again. Had it been only the Imperial Guards they were facing, they might have overwhelmed the defenders by sheer strength of numbers; but they had been counting on the Guards to have their hands full keeping the riots in the city to a minimum. Instead a large portion of the cityfolk had united in defence of their home, little caring for politics in this matter. Whatever their feelings about the Heir-Empress, it was a point of pride that no one would be allowed to invade Axekami, and so the defenders’ numbers had been swollen manyfold. Grigi tu Kerestyn spat his frustration throughout the night, and redoubled his efforts at assault when Nuki’s eye peeped over the horizon, but the forces of Blood Batik were marching rapidly from the east, and they would be in the city before nightfall. Once there, they would be immovable, and Blood Erinima’s safety would be assured.
Anais sat on her throne next to her husband, icily calm. The sun beamed through the high, unshuttered windows of the room, an unbearable swelter even though the morning had barely begun. Servants fanned air with great ornamental sails, but it did little good; Imperial Guards sweated and itched abominably inside their ceremonial metal armour. The purple and white pennants of Blood Erinima hung slackly against the walls. Braziers leaked perfumed smoke.
Durun was in a foul mood. He had been carousing last night. The Empress had been fighting for the very survival of her family,
organising tactics, dealing with reports, and he had stolen away to drink. He had come to her bed and she had spurned him. The memory of their fiery argument combined with the morning’s heat, his hangover and the fact that he was wakened so early and dragged to the throne room had all combined to make his temper far shorter than usual.
The doors were opened, and a Speaker announced:
‘Mistress Mishani tu Koli of Blood Koli.’
She entered wearing a robe of midnight blue, her immense length of hair tamed with strips of leather in a matching colour. Her pale, thin features were composed in their courtly mask, serene and revealing nothing. Walking behind her and at one side was Asara, dressed in simple white, her hands folded before her in the manner of a handmaiden. The streaks of red that had run though her black hair had disappeared, for they were too ostentatious for a position so humble; and she had artfully shifted the pallor of her skin to take the edge off the remarkable perfection of her features. They walked along the patterned
lack
path that led to the thrones of coiled wood and precious metal, where the slender, fair Anais sat next to her tall, stern and dark-haired husband, who was dressed all in black.
‘You have some nerve, Mishani tu Koli,’ Durun said, before any formal greetings could be made.
Mishani’s eyes flickered to him. None of the frank amazement at his rudeness touched her face.
‘Blood Empress Anais tu Erinima,’ she said, bowing. Then, to Durun, with a lesser bow, ‘Emperor Durun tu Batik. May I know why my presence has caused such offence to you?’ She was using the Saramyrrhic mode reserved only for the Emperor and Empress, but Durun’s mode was far less polite.
Anais regarded her coldly from her throne on the dais. ‘Do not play games, Mishani. It is only because of the special circumstances attending this day that I have agreed to see you. Speak your piece.’
This was wrong, Mishani thought to herself. Terribly wrong. There was something happening here that she did not know about. Her visit to the Empress was ostensibly a friendly one, though its true purpose was more elaborate. She had asked to see Anais immediately upon her arrival, forsaking the usual politenesses, because it was essential to the Libera Dramach’s plan that she was not with Lucia this morning. Everything could be ruined if the Empress - and her attendant retinue - were present when they tried
to kidnap the child; for secrecy was the most important aspect of this operation, and no one must know who was responsible. Everyone else could be accounted for, but not the Empress; if she chose to visit Lucia today, kidnap would be impossible. There would be too many Guards. Mishani’s function, using her noble birth as a lever, was essentially as a decoy.
But what had she done to warrant this hostility? This did not bode well.
‘I come to offer you my allegiance,’ she said. Durun barked a laugh, but she ignored him. ‘When last I visited yourself and Lucia, my intentions were unclear. And though I know my father has opposed you and allied himself with Sonmaga tu Amacha, I would have you know that you may rely on what support I can offer you. Please forgive the urgency of this meeting, but I demanded to see you so that I might tell you this before the scales of this confict have tipped. Whichever way they go, you and your daughter have my loyalty.’
‘Your
loyalty}’
Durun cried incredulously, getting to his feet. ‘Gods, I must still be drunk! Here stands the Koli child offering us her strong right arm, when her father not a day past has betrayed Sonmaga and even now assaults the walls of our city! What do you know of loyalty? You yourself are betraying your father by going against his will! His same traitorous blood flows in your veins. What will you offer us, Mishani? Will you call your father away from the attack on Axekami? Answer me! What will you offer us?’
Mishani was shaken. She understood it now, grasping the situation immediately. While her father had been on Sonmaga’s side, he had been essentially defending the city by keeping Kerestyn out. If things had been as they were when she set off from the Fold, Anais would have accepted her friendship in good grace. That was all that was necessary. Even now, the Libera Dramach would be inside the Keep and hunting down the Heir-Empress. If all had gone to plan.
But all was not going to plan. Mishani had not known of the secret alliance between her family and Blood Kerestyn; her father had kept that from her. He was one of the invaders, and she was still his daughter in the eyes of the world. She had just stepped into a den of enemies. She glanced about nervously, and saw the Barak Mos by the side of the dais, his arms folded across his broad chest, watching her.
‘Speak, Mishani tu Koli,’ said Anais, her voice angry and hard. ‘Why have you come to us this way?’
Mishani said the only thing she could. ‘My father’s actions shame me,’ she said. She knelt and bowed low, her hair falling over her face, in abject supplication. Asara automatically followed suit, as a good handmaiden should do. ‘And they shame Blood Koli. On the one hand, I have my loyalty to my family; on the other, to my Empress. When I learned of his intentions, I turned my back on him. Though he is my father, he is a man without honour. I throw myself on your mercy. I would stand with your daughter against whatever may come, for though I am Blood Koli by name, I am forever apart from them now.’
Anais stood, a frown of disbelief creasing her brow. ‘You know better than this, Mishani. The fate of a noble family is bound together. The crimes of the father are your crimes also until retribution is exacted.’ She opened her hands. ‘You know better,’ she said again, almost apologetically.