Bloodforged (19 page)

‘Bring these chosen at the appointed time,’ said the crook-backed man. ‘You will be informed of the next meeting place in the usual way. Now, go. Be vigilant and fruitful, and may the blessings of the Lord of Desire inspire you!’

‘We shall do the will of the Lord of Desire,’ murmured the crowd, bowing low, then turned away from the circle and started filtering towards the various exits.

Ulrika and Raiza paid them no mind. They focused entirely on the bent cultist, watching as he slung the sack of bottled souls over his hunched shoulder and started towards the temple door. Two hulking cultists fell in behind him, then stepped out the door to check the street. When they gave the all-clear, he started forwards again, then paused on the threshold and waved his hand.

A tension Ulrika hadn’t realised was pressing at her chest and eardrums suddenly released, and the air seemed to thin.

‘He has lowered the wards,’ said Raiza, then turned. ‘Now to the rooftops.’

Ulrika followed her to the office window and stepped up onto the sill. The walls above it were not smooth like those below. Crumbling brick and decorative pilasters made easy handholds. Ulrika expanded her senses as they climbed, searching for the man who had been watching from above, but his heart-fire was descending through the building, and the roof was empty when Ulrika and Raiza pulled themselves onto it.

They padded quickly to the other edge and looked down. The crook-backed cultist and his guards were leading three horses from a ruined building opposite the temple. The crooked man slung his pack over the saddlebow and they mounted and started off west towards the river.

Ulrika and Raiza loped after them, leaping from roof to roof with the Sorcerers’ Spire silhouetted in the distance by the two moons that rose behind it. Ulrika smiled as she ran and the night wind kissed her face. The bliss of unfettered movement, of having the grace she had once only dreamed of, filled her, and she nearly forgot why they followed the men, only revelled in the doing of it. She shot a look at Raiza as she ran beside her. The swordswoman’s face was as grim and emotionless as ever. Ulrika’s smile faded. Was this what awaited her down the road of her eternity – the loss of all joy? Would she too someday become as cold and unfeeling as a machine?

The cultist and his guards veered their horses into a northbound street. Raiza and Ulrika changed course to follow, but as they leapt a narrow alley, Ulrika saw something moving out of the corner of her eye and turned her head. A figure in cultist’s robes was bounding after them over the roofs, moving as swiftly as they were, and hurled something in Raiza’s direction.

‘Look out!’ Ulrika cried.

Her words had the wrong effect. The swordswoman slowed and turned to see what was the matter, and ended up directly in the path of the spinning object. Ulrika thrust out a desperate hand and shoved her, sending her windmilling aside, and the thing struck Raiza’s wrist instead of her heart. It was a dagger-sized shard of onyx.

Raiza shrieked in a voice Ulrika would not have expected to come from her, and crashed to the roof, clutching at her arm.

‘So fall all who seek our destruction!’ screeched the cultist, then turned and ran away across the roofs.

Ulrika sprang instinctively after him, snarling and drawing her sword, but to her shock, he increased the distance between them. It was impossible a normal man could be so fast and strong. His leaps were longer and stronger than hers. He was getting away!

‘Face me, coward!’ she cried, but he did not slow.

She sprinted gamely after him as he pulled ahead of her, sailing over streets and clearing chimneys with feet to spare, but then he disappeared over a high, steep-roofed tenement, and when she reached the peak and looked around, he was gone. She ran to each of the edges, looking down into the streets and alleys and extending her senses to search for his heart-fire, but she couldn’t feel it. He was already out of range.

With a curse, Ulrika turned and ran back the way she had come, retracing her steps as a giddy violin played a wild tune somewhere far in the distance, barely audible over the sounds of the city.

‘I lost him,’ she said as she leapt onto the roof where she had left Raiza.

The swordswoman didn’t look up. She was slumped against a chimney with her sleeve pushed back to reveal her left wrist, and she was staring at it. Ulrika stared too, her heart constricting. Raiza’s hand and forearm were withered and shrunken. The muscle that should have covered her bones was nearly gone, and her skin hung loose from them like wet tissue. She could hardly contract her fingers.

‘Ursun’s teeth!’ said Ulrika. ‘What happened?’

‘Only a scratch,’ Raiza whispered dully. ‘Only a scratch…’

She trailed away and looked at the onyx shard that lay beside her. Ulrika swallowed. The thing had been black before, she was sure of it. Now it pulsed red at its core.

‘What is it?’ she asked, kneeling.

Raiza shook her head. ‘I know not. But it is worse than silver. It… it took a part of me – part of my essence. Had it struck my heart–’ She shuddered and looked up at Ulrika. ‘You saved my life. I will not forget.’

Ulrika reached out to help her up. ‘Come. I will see you home.’

Raiza accepted her arm and stood, but shook her head. ‘I will return on my own. Go after the hunchback. Follow him to their destination if you can. We must win something from this night.’ She stooped and picked up the sharp shard of onyx with her right hand. She moved like an old woman. ‘I will speak to the boyarina of this cult.’ She glanced at her withered wrist. ‘I believe I can convince her now of its danger. Now hurry.’

Ulrika saluted. ‘I’ll find him,’ she said, then turned and leapt to the next roof.

But she didn’t find the crook-backed man. In the time it had taken her to chase the assassin and return to Raiza, he and his men had vanished. She searched all the neighbouring streets and alleys from the rooftops, then dropped down to the ground and tried to follow them by scent. For a few blocks that worked, but then the trail led to the Grand Parade and was drowned in the smells of all the other horses, carts and people who had passed and were still passing along it.

She considered for a moment returning to Evgena immediately to tell her she had lost the men, but she was reluctant to face the chastisement – particularly if it influenced the boyarina’s decision about whether to fight the cult. Besides, she had promised to meet Stefan at the Blue Jug to tell him how things had gone, and it was getting late. Maybe he would have news of the cult – something she could bring to Evgena tomorrow night.

She shook her head as she trotted past the Sorcerers’ Spire towards the Academy District. She had left Nuln for Praag because she hadn’t wanted to serve any master, and somehow she had ended up, not three days after arriving, beholden to two. How had it happened?

The Blue Jug was shuttered for the night when she reached it, but Stefan was still there, waiting in the shadowed doorway.

‘So, the sisters didn’t kill you,’ he said, raising his head as she approached.

‘No,’ she said. ‘They listened, and agreed to help. We spent the night trailing the cultists then… lost them again.’

‘Tell me,’ he said, then stepped out and beckoned her to walk with him.

Ulrika paced alongside him, telling him about meeting Evgena and agreeing to take her pledge as they walked through the district’s deserted streets. He gave her a sharp look when she told him of drinking the mixed blood from the golden bowl.

‘It would have been wiser of you not to have done that.’

‘I feared as much,’ said Ulrika. ‘But she told me it would not make me her slave. My mind would still be my own. Did she lie?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘But neither did she tell you the whole truth. You still have your own will. You could still betray her if you wished, but she will know it when she looks at you. She will be able to read your emotions, no matter how hard you try to hide them.’

A knot of unease twisted Ulrika’s guts. As much as she disliked the vow, and how Evgena had cornered her into taking it, she had no intention of harming her. Indeed, she was trying to help her, trying to save her city from the cult, but at the same time, she had already begun to think about finding a way to escape her service sometime in the future. Would that count as betrayal? Would Evgena see it in her eyes, or did she know it already?

She put that aside and continued her story, telling Stefan about going with Raiza to spy on Romo Yeshenko and his wife at the meeting of the cult. He listened without comment until she told him of the cultist with the black onyx dagger. Then he turned to her, his grey eyes glittering and hard.

‘What did this knife look like?’ he asked. ‘Describe it!’

Ulrika blinked at his vehemence. ‘It – it was hardly a knife,’ she said. ‘It was nothing but a length of onyx, jagged and black. Only, when it struck Raiza’s arm, it withered it horribly, and afterwards seemed to glow red from within.’

Stefan’s face went cold and stiff. ‘It withered only her arm?’

‘Aye,’ said Ulrika with a shiver. ‘But had it struck her heart–’

‘She is lucky it didn’t,’ said Stefan. ‘It is one of the Blood Shards. They belonged to my master until Konstantin Kiraly killed him and stole them.’ He turned away from her, staring off into the night. ‘My nemesis has arrived, and has begun his revenge against the Lahmians.’

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE FENCING LESSON

‘What is a Blood Shard?’ Ulrika asked.

‘A terrible weapon,’ said Stefan. ‘There are six. My master was a collector of arcane objects, and the Blood Shards were some of his favourites. They are prisons. They suck out the soul of anyone they kill, and trap it, fully conscious, within their crystalline structure, where it can be subjected to whatever magical tortures the owner of the shard wishes to inflict upon it, for eternity.’

Ulrika shivered. What an awful fate.

‘Even vampires are not immune,’ continued Stefan. ‘Some may debate if a vampire has a soul, but he certainly has a consciousness, and it too can be trapped within a Blood Shard. That… that is what happened to my master. Kiraly killed him with a shard and imprisoned him within it.’ His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. ‘When I have killed Kiraly, I will seek to find some way to free him, though I have been told it is impossible.’

‘That is a terrible thing,’ said Ulrika. ‘I hope you find some way.’

Stefan waved that away. ‘Never mind. What of Kiraly? Did you fight him?’

‘You think the cultist… you think it was him?’ Ulrika stammered.

‘It can have been no one else.’

Ulrika blinked. No wonder she had sensed no heart-fire. He had none. ‘I… I lost him,’ she said. ‘He was too fast. I’m sorry.’

‘Did you see which way he went?’ said Stefan through his teeth.

‘He was running east into the Novygrad when he vanished,’ she said. ‘But he could be anywhere now.’

Stefan turned immediately east. ‘I must find him,’ he said, and strode off down the empty street.

Ulrika hurried after him. If what he said was true, then this Kiraly was Boyarina Evgena’s enemy too. ‘Wait,’ she called. ‘I’ll help you.’

‘If you wish,’ said Stefan, not looking back. ‘But he is mine alone when we find him. You will not interfere.’

‘Of course,’ said Ulrika.

They jogged on towards the Karlsbridge and the east side.

Stefan searched the deserted ruins of the Novygrad like a man possessed, practically sprinting from shattered building to shattered building, and roaring Kiraly’s name in the streets. He tore down doors and kicked through broken floors to explore collapsed basements. He scattered sleeping squatters and mutants, and questioned cowering refugees about seeing suspicious strangers or finding corpses drained of blood. None had heard anything.

Ulrika followed Stefan with some trepidation, afraid that, in his madness, he would bring the watch or chekist agents down upon them, or worse, the roof of some precarious tenement. His fervour was terrifying, and somewhat frustrating, to see. If he could have put as much effort into finding the cultists, they might have defeated them by now.

And what if he found Kiraly? Stefan’s only interest in stopping the cult was to be certain Praag still stood when the vampire arrived. If Stefan killed him, he would cease to care. He would take the Blood Shards and return to Sylvania. Of course, now that she had joined the Lahmians, perhaps his help was unnecessary. But despite sharing blood with Evgena, she didn’t trust her strange sisters. Their fear of betrayal seemed stronger than their fear of the cult, and she worried the slightest misstep or stray thought on her part would have them coming for her head again.

A cold hand clutched her heart as a thought came to her. Was she making that misstep now? Should she be helping Stefan search for Kiraly, or should she be running back to warn Evgena he was coming to kill her? What if he had already attacked the Lahmians’ house? It would be Ulrika’s fault if Evgena wasn’t prepared. She already felt to a certain extent complicit in the attack on Raiza. Kiraly had obviously been watching Evgena’s house. If Ulrika hadn’t asked the Lahmians for help against the cultists, Raiza would not have left the house to investigate and put herself in danger. Ulrika had unwittingly drawn her out so Kiraly could attack her.

‘Stefan,’ she said as she followed him down the stairs of a tenement they had just searched. ‘I must go back to the Lahmians immediately.’

‘Go, then,’ said Stefan, distracted, and kicked through the front door into the street.

Ulrika strode out after him, then stopped as she saw a bright pink glow in the sky over the eastern walls of the city. It had become dawn while they were inside. There was no way she could make it back to Evgena’s mansion before the sun rose. Now she wouldn’t be able to warn the boyarina until nightfall. Unless…

Could she take the sewers? Aye, but she would have to come up to the streets to approach the house, and it would be full daylight by then. She would burn to a crisp on Evgena’s front steps. She cursed. There seemed no way. Of course, the sun would stop Kiraly as well – unless he had already attacked. Ulrika sighed. There was nothing for it. She would have to wait out the day, then race to the mansion as soon as the sun went down again, and pray she wasn’t too late.

She looked around. Stefan hadn’t seemed to notice the dawn. He was kicking in the boarded up-windows of the burned-out shop next door.

‘Stefan,’ said Ulrika.

He didn’t seem to hear her.

‘Stefan!’

He turned, his eyes mad and bright. ‘What? What is it? Have you found him?’

‘Dawn is coming,’ she said. ‘We must take shelter.’

‘Damn the dawn!’ he snapped. ‘I must find Kiraly!’

Ulrika raised an eyebrow. ‘The dawn will damn you,’ she said. ‘But go on if you wish. I’m going to retire.’

Stefan snarled. ‘I don’t care what you do! I–’ He caught himself and ran a hand through his lank hair. ‘No, no. You are right. We must stop. We must.’

‘I have a place nearby,’ said Ulrika. ‘It isn’t anything, but it is secure. You could–’ She stuttered as she realised what she was saying, but it was too late to draw it back. ‘You could stay if you like.’

Stefan bowed politely. ‘If it isn’t too much trouble.’

‘Of course not,’ said Ulrika, thinking it might well be. ‘This way.’

She led him through the ruins towards the bakery, wondering if she had made a mistake revealing her hiding place to a man who was almost a complete stranger. Well, she could always find a new place, couldn’t she?

Ulrika shrugged, embarrassed, as she led Stefan down into the cellar of the bakery. It had none of the comforts of home. There was no furniture except for piles of rubble, dusty bakery tables and the oven in which she slept, and no place to wash. Nor had she collected any blankets or pillows. She had been sleeping with her head resting on her pack.

Stefan seemed unperturbed. ‘It is better than where I have been staying,’ he said, and promptly began to dust off one of the bakery tables to make a bed for himself. ‘I have been too preoccupied to think much about lodging.’

Ulrika hesitated, then indicated the oven. ‘You can join me, if you like. No light gets in.’

He looked at her with a half-smile, then bowed. ‘You are kind to offer, but I will not intrude. Thank you.’

Ulrika nodded, not certain if she was disappointed or relieved. She sat down in the rubble and began taking off her boots. ‘I must go back to the Lahmians tonight. I must tell them I failed to follow the cultists. And Evgena must be warned that Kiraly is after her. Perhaps they will help us hunt him.’

Stefan laughed. ‘Help
us
? Ha! You they may help, but if they learn I am with you, they will hunt
me
.’

‘But, surely,’ said Ulrika, ‘when they learn the true threat–’

‘You are young,’ he said. ‘You have much to learn. The Lahmians think of anyone who is not Lahmian as a true threat. My intentions matter not. My actions matter not. Only my blood matters, and they despise it.’ He shrugged. ‘It would be in all our interests if we who face these common enemies fought them together, but it will not happen. They will not accept me.’

‘But why not?’ Ulrika growled. ‘Our enemies are strong. The cultists nearly burned us alive, and this Kiraly nearly killed Raiza. We would all be safer allied. We would be able to share what we know of these villains and present them a united front.’

‘You think logically,’ said Stefan. ‘It is not a Lahmian trait.’

‘Then I will make it one,’ said Ulrika, standing, one boot off. ‘I will go to them and – No,
we
will go to them. We will tell them of Kiraly and the Blood Shards, and–’

‘You’re mad, girl,’ laughed Stefan, cutting her off. ‘I won’t go anywhere near them. They’ll kill me.’

‘But you just said it was the right thing to do!’ Ulrika protested.

‘It may be right,’ said Stefan, ‘but it is also fatal.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘I apologise. It is honourable of you to want to be above-board with your mistress, but she is too closed-minded to listen to reason. If I went into her lair, I would not come out again.’

Ulrika cursed and turned away, but then an idea came to her and she spun back. ‘What if I brought them to you?’

Stefan frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Ulrika smiled. ‘We shall do it in stages, so they get used to the idea. I will go to them alone, and tell them of you – that you have knowledge of Kiraly which will help them defend against him. If they accept that, I will bring them to speak to you, on neutral ground, where you may withdraw if they attempt to attack. Once they hear you out, I’m certain they will welcome you.’

Stefan shook his head. ‘You are naïve if you think that,’ he said. ‘But…’

Ulrika looked at him hopefully. ‘But?’

‘But it might still be worth a try,’ he continued at last. ‘If they refuse, we have lost nothing. If they try treachery, I can escape, and we will know their disposition.’ He looked at Ulrika. ‘My only fear is for you. Evgena may be angry at you for speaking with me, and may seek to punish you or banish you.’

‘I’ll take the risk,’ said Ulrika. ‘If she can truly see into my heart, then she will know it was done with good intent. We cannot continue to fight two threats separately. Will… will you do it?’

Stefan hesitated, then nodded. ‘I will do it. Let us meet… let us meet at the kvas distillery. We all know the place, and–’ he smirked. ‘And there are many escape routes if all goes wrong.’

‘Yes. Excellent,’ said Ulrika. ‘This is good. We will be stronger for it.’

She sat down again and started pulling off her other boot, feeling greatly relieved. Not only would joining forces make them all safer, it would end her need to keep Stefan a secret from Evgena. All would be right tonight, and they could turn their attention to fighting their enemies, instead of each other.

‘Ulrika,’ said Stefan.

She looked up.

He smiled at her – the first true smile of their acquaintance. ‘I… I want to thank you. This is not a step I would have made on my own. You have courage. I will try to emulate it.’

‘Th-thank you,’ she stammered, smiling in return. She struggled for something else to say, then found she had been holding his gaze too long. She broke it suddenly, and there was an awkward silence. Neither of them seemed to know where to look.

At last Stefan turned and lay down on the bakery table. ‘Sleep well,’ he said, then rolled on his side to face the wall.

She looked at his back for a moment, then finished pulling off her other boot. ‘Goodnight.’

She climbed into the bakery oven and curled up inside it. The stone surface seemed more uncomfortable than it had on other nights.

Ulrika smiled wryly to herself as she reached for the knocker on Evgena’s front door. Once again she was coming to the boyarina with a proposal that was sure to anger her, and might indeed spur her to cast Ulrika out, but she felt less nervous about it this time. Joining forces with Stefan was the right thing to do. Ulrika knew it in her heart, and if Evgena disowned her for suggesting it, then Ulrika could part company with the old shrew and her sisters with a clean conscience.

Still, she didn’t want it to go that way. The twin threats of Kiraly and the cults were too great. The help of the Lahmians would be vital to defeating them. She must succeed here. There was no other option. She squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.

The wait was much shorter this time, and when Severin opened the door and looked down at her over his broad, square beard, his, ‘Yes?’ was not nearly as full of contempt as before.

‘Ulrika Magdova Straghov, returning to report to Boyarina Evgena,’ she said.

The massive majordomo bowed her in and she entered, stepping once again between the shadows of the two gigantic bears that guarded the door. The dust-hooded eyes of all the other trophies glittered at her in the darkness of the entryway.

‘The boyarina is dressing,’ said Severin. ‘If you would care to wait in the parlour.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ulrika, then paused. ‘Ah, is Mistress Raiza awake?’

‘She is in the ballroom,’ said Severin. ‘You wish to see her?’

‘Please.’

‘This way.’

Ulrika followed him through the hushed house, pleased he hadn’t asked for her sword this time – another improvement over the last time she had visited. He led her again through cobwebbed corridors lined with stuffed birds and beasts to a set of panelled double doors, behind which she heard a long-forgotten swishing and thudding and cracking. He pushed them open, then bowed into the room.