Duskfall (56 page)

“It pays to have an extensive network of little birds,” the emperor said.

The Tokal ignored him. “We sent a group to retrieve you and your tiellan bride. We needed both of you for what was to come. Unfortunately you led us on a merry pursuit. We had hoped, of course, that the return protocol would work, and that you would come back to us on your own. But a year didn’t seem a very good response time, so we assumed the protocol was corrupted. Yet here you are, at our doorstep. The return protocol worked—you remember the blue light, no? And what luck—you defeated another Nazaniin
cotir
on the way. Skewering two fish with one spear, as the emperor said. It is rather satisfying.”

Knot looked at Winter. He couldn’t see her face. What would she think of him, now? He’d all but caused the death of her father, been the catalyst for this entire journey. She must hate him.

“Why do you need us both?” Knot asked. “You said you wanted to take both of us in Pranna. But when you attacked us by the river, you only took Winter. Why?”

The Tokal raised an eyebrow. “I assume Winter is your wife? Of course she is. We need her, that’s all. You’ll find out why soon enough, old friend.”

The emperor frowned. “What is this, Tokal? You said nothing about needing the elf girl.”

“Did I not?” The Tokal chuckled. “My apologies. We need her for a small ritual we shall be performing. It actually concerns you, Your Grace. We were hoping to begin now, in fact, if you would care to be present.”

The emperor frowned. “Concerns me? What sort of ritual of yours
concerns
me, Tokal? I thought I’d seen enough of your grisly artifice.”

“Just this last one, if it pleases Your Grace. I must insist, for the good of Roden.”

The emperor’s lips contorted. “Very well, Tokal. But afterwards,” he said, indicating the servant near the side door, “I’ll have a bath. And a flask of 152 Cordonat.
Immediately
afterwards.”

The servant nodded vigorously, scurrying out.

“Very well, Tokal, get on with it,” the emperor said.

Knot’s jaw tightened. He didn’t know anything about rituals, but he was sure he didn’t want Winter to be a part of this one. He looked around. Impossible odds. Even if Astrid were here, their chances would be slim. But Knot had to do something.

“I’m afraid we’ll need the throne,” the Tokal said, placing a foot on the first gilded step of the platform. “Rituals of power should be performed in places of power, after all.”

The emperor frowned. “You can perform the ritual well enough down there, Tokal. Forgive my superstition, but I won’t abdicate the throne freely, metaphorically or otherwise.”

The Tokal smiled. Knot’s gut churned. Something was going on here.

“I hoped you would say that,” the Tokal said. “It will make this much more fun.” He nodded his head towards the emperor, and suddenly Knot knew.

This was a coup.

“Take him,” the Tokal said. The two Reapers at the base of the throne turned and made their way up the stairs.

“What is this, Tokal? What are you doing?” the emperor demanded.

“What I’ve waited to do for years, Your Grace.”

The emperor stood, red-faced, glaring down at the Tokal. “You’re a fool. Don’t set yourself up for failure.”

“I never do,” the Tokal said. “Kill the servant,” he shouted, “and lock the doors. We’re about to witness a terrible tragedy. The assassination of our emperor at the hands of Khale.”

Of course
, Knot thought. The Ceno wanted power, and Knot and his companions had given them the perfect excuse to take it.

Grysole’s once red face paled as he looked at the Reapers approaching him. “Henrik. Foval. You have both served me for years. Defend me now!”

The two Reapers did not respond. They took the emperor roughly between them, and looked at the Tokal.

They’ve been bought.
The two Reapers at the door behind Knot must have been bought as well; they were closing and barring the door. The Reapers who’d brought Knot into the chamber, however, and the Reapers who stood by Lian and Winter, seemed loyal to the emperor. Weapons drawn, they glared at the Ceno monks, who brandished swords of their own. Two Ceno had sprinted after the servant through the side door as soon as the Tokal made his move.

“Hold him,” the Tokal said, walking up the gilded steps.

“You cannot do this,” the emperor said. All majesty had fled him.

“I can.” The Tokal drew a long dagger from his robe. “Quite easily, actually.” Then, he gripped the emperor’s bald head with one hand, pushing it back. He chanted in a strange language as he raised the dagger.

Then he slit the emperor’s throat.

As the emperor’s blood gushed onto the gilded steps, the Reapers around Knot—the men still loyal to the emperor—shuffled nervously.

Now that the Tokal was making his move, it was best Knot make his. Siding with the empire seemed pointless, given what he had just witnessed. But the Tokal wanted to kill Winter, and that made things clear. Part of him was desperate to ask the man questions; who were the nine people sharing his head with Lathe? But getting Winter to safety was all that mattered. Finding out who he was could wait. If these green-robed men were anything like those who had ambushed them by the river, he would probably die, but he had no choice but to fight.

Knot lunged towards the nearest Ceno, punching him in the throat and reaching for the man’s sword.

* * *

“
Bring her to me!
” the Tokal screamed.

Winter cringed. A group of monks attacked the Reapers who were guarding her and Lian. It was four against two; the Reapers fought well, killing two Ceno, but were soon dispatched. One of the monks grabbed Winter and began hauling her towards the throne. The other moved towards Lian, sword drawn. Like the men from the river, these men did not seem to communicate in any visible way.

She struggled, but she had no weapon. She wished, above all things, that she had Knot’s frost. If she could only take one
faltira
crystal, she would bring death to all these men who meant harm to her and hers. Although the last time she had taken frost in the presence of the Ceno, she hadn’t been able to use her powers. Were the two things connected?

Winter tried to wrench free of the Ceno’s grip, but he was too strong. She tried stamping on his foot, but only succeeded in tripping herself up, and was dragged bodily up the steps towards the waiting Tokal. The Reapers who had betrayed the emperor ran down past her. Winter looked over her shoulder. Lian was still struggling against the Ceno monk. Somehow, he had gotten a sword but he was barely holding off the monk’s attacks.
He won’t last long.
Knot, along with two remaining Reapers loyal to the emperor, fought off four Ceno not fifteen rods from the throne. The two Reapers who had stood guard at the door rushed towards the melee. Winter could not tell which side they would join.

“Knot!” Winter shouted. “Two from the throne, two from the door!” He probably already knew the four men were closing in, but she had to warn him. He wielded his sword as a part of him, weaving and spinning in a delicate dance, only to turn and smash his fist into a Ceno’s skull, or stab one through the gut. She remembered him fighting the monks at their wedding. A dragon-eel among deepfish. Lightning across dark water.

Two more monks went down at Knot’s hand, though they took one of the remaining loyal Reapers with them. The four other Reapers converged on him.

And then Winter was at the throne, her arms held by the Ceno, the Tokal before her.

The Tokal was chanting in a language Winter had never heard, the syllables soft and flowing; Winter might have thought it beautiful if the man didn’t have a dagger to her throat. The hilt was chipped.
A strange thing to notice when I’m about to die.

Below, Knot screamed her name. Winter looked down; the last Reaper who had stood for the late emperor had fallen. The three Reapers who had attacked Knot now held him between them; all the monks had fallen, it seemed, save the one who held Winter.

If Knot couldn’t help her, all hope was lost.

The Tokal stopped chanting and smiled at her. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain, my dear. Yours will be greatness and glory; dusk is upon us, and you shall usher in the fall of night.”

Winter looked on in horror as the Tokal raised the blade. She thought of her father, of his strong hands and weathered face, of the way he embraced her the day of her wedding. She thought of Lian’s apology, and Knot’s tentative forgiveness.

Was it really all for nothing?

Then, several things happened at once.

Everyone looked up at the sound of shattering glass, falling like rain, followed by a soft thud. A small form landed on the marble floor between the Reapers holding Knot and the doorway. The figure stood, no larger than a child.

At the same time, two monks—the men who had gone after the emperor’s servant—burst in from the side door, and ran towards the throne.

And Winter suddenly saw Lian, shouting, barreling up the gilded steps, sword in hand.

The monk who held Winter must have been distracted by the breaking glass, and his grip on Winter loosened as he barely managed to dodge a thrust from Lian’s sword. He did not manage to dodge Winter’s fist as she swung it at his face. Lian’s second thrust went through the man’s chest, and he collapsed, falling down the stairs.

Lian pushed Winter down the steps as the Ceno fell, away from the Tokal. “You always did need saving, princess. You always did—”

The Tokal reached out, quick and soft as a whisper. A growing line of red spread across Lian’s neck and he fell to his knees, blood bubbling from his mouth. Winter felt the hot spray of it on her face.

“Fool,” the Tokal said. “Tiellan blood was all I needed. Yours or hers, it didn’t matter. The girl’s death would have had a certain poetry, but yours… yours will do.”

Lian fell down face first, his blood spattering the gold steps.

“No,” Winter whispered. She looked from Lian’s body up to the Tokal, who stood tall, triumphant. He lifted his hands high in the air, one still holding the dagger, as he continued his ethereal chanting.

Winter ran up the steps, slipping on blood as she bent to take up Lian’s sword. Then she rammed the blade through the Tokal’s heart.

The Tokal did not flinch, but remained standing, chanting, his eyes staring skywards.

Winter withdrew the sword and stabbed him again through the belly. Once again, the man didn’t move.

With a sob, Winter withdrew the sword and swung once more, the blade biting into the Tokal’s neck. The wretched chanting stopped, and the man rolled down the steps to the marble below.

Winter looked down at herself, covered in blood. She slumped into the throne, looking at the bodies below her. The emperor, the Tokal, the monk, and Lian. So much death.

She realized that everyone was staring up at her. Knot, the Reapers, the remaining Ceno. Even the girl. Astrid, Winter realized numbly. What did it matter? Her mother. Her father. Lian. Chaos and death followed her. She would never escape it.

* * *

Knot called Winter’s name. The Reapers had released him the moment she killed the Tokal. Knot almost felt sympathy for them. They had lost two leaders in one day. But it didn’t stop him from killing them. Their shock made the task simple.

“Winter, please,” Knot said. Two Ceno remained, but they did not matter. He looked back at Astrid. He had felt such hope when she crashed through the sky-window. Knot did not know how she was alive, but he didn’t care. With her help, they
would
make it out of here.

And then Knot had watched Lian die, and had been unable to do anything to stop it.

Astrid blurred across the room towards the remaining Ceno. She dispatched both easily. In the same moment, Knot felt the strange veil, the shroud he had felt ever since the Tokal had entered the chamber with his Ceno, lift from him. He felt an odd, but somehow familiar, power.

“I’m sorry,” Astrid whispered. “I was too late.”

Knot shook his head, unsure what to say. He looked back at Winter, still slumped on the throne.

“Winter,” he pleaded, “we need to get out of here.”

Winter met his eyes. She stood, wordlessly.

“Don’t know if we
can
get out of here,” Astrid said. Knot blinked. The vampire was standing beside him, looking up.

In midair, directly above the throne, a strange gaping shadow twisted.

“Winter, come down from there!” Whatever the shadow was, Knot did not want to face it. And he definitely didn’t want Winter directly below it.

Winter finally walked down the steps. Knot embraced her tightly. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

She said nothing in return, but at least she seemed to be coming back to herself. Her daze frightened him. Above them the shadow contorted, growing larger, a black gaping tear that shimmered and shifted like moonlight on water but completely dark. As if it drew light into itself.

Then, slowly, a dark mist began to pour from the shadow. The mist tumbled and cascaded over the throne, unfurling and eddying as it reached across the marble floor, shrouding everything in black. The lacquered throne, the golden steps, the blood, the white-and-blue marble were no longer visible. In their place Knot saw only darkness.

“Um. Guys?” Astrid took a step back. The mist rushed towards them.

Knot released Winter from his embrace and took her hand. Then, he heard the voice. Deep, low, and wreathed in flame.

“You cannot escape. We will consume you.”

“What…?” Knot stepped back again, pulling Winter with him. She stared at the mist, her expression blank. The billowing black cloud was three or four paces away now.

And it was moving faster.

“That,” Astrid said, “is what
I
have nightmares about.”

Knot peered at the girl. Her eyes were wide. She was… trembling.

“Run,” Astrid said. Then she took off in a streak, and Knot pulled Winter along with him. A crack of thunder shook the room.

The mist suddenly spread a hundredfold, enveloping the entire throne hall. Knot gripped Winter’s hand more tightly as the black mist enfolded them both. Knot only had time to see Winter’s eyes widen in horror as she was torn away from him, her mouth opening in a scream.