Demonbane (Book 4) (22 page)

Kendril clenched his hands hard on the hilts of his two swords, then followed quickly after her.

The foyer was filled with screaming, jostling people, all desperate to get outside at once. They were shouting, cursing, pushing, and pulling on each other in the general panic.

“Well,” said Tomas with his usual droll inflection, “this will
definitely
bring the gendarmes.”

Olan stepped out of the way as a group of nobles hurried past him down the stairs. He stared down at the seething crowd below them. “Hamis?”

The bearded Ghostwalker nodded. “Aye?”

“You and Callen watch the doors. Don’t let anyone with the Soulbinder leave.”

Hamis looked down at the crowd, then back at Olan. “How are we supposed to do that? Anyone of those people could have it.”

“Then keep your eyes open for Dutraad’s wife or the witch,” Olan snapped.

Callen gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what either of them look like.”

Hamis shook his head. “Sorry, mate. Neither do I.”

Olan shot a glance over towards Tomas.

“Sorry,” the gaunt Ghostwalker replied to the unspoken question. “I’ve seen Lady Dutraad, but not the witch.” He glanced down at the panic below them. “But in
that
, I don’t think there’s any realistic way to find either of them, much less stop them.”

Olan drew his sword. “We have to try. Change of plans. Tomas, you and Callen watch the doors. Hamis, you’re with me.”

The burly Ghostwalker pulled out the double-handed sword that had been badly hidden under his black cloak. “Where are we going?”

Olan turned towards the stairs. “We have to help Kendril before he gets himself killed.”

Hamis followed after him, pushing several fleeing people out of his way. “I didn’t think you cared,” he shouted down at his commander.

“I
don’t
,” Olan roared back over his shoulder. “But we need Kendril to find the witch!”

“She’s breathing, at least.” Maklavir leaned away from Kara, and sat back against the wall. “And there’s some color back in her cheeks. I’d say that’s a good thing.”

“Yes,” said Joseph anxiously. He glanced towards the open door of the dressing room. The distant sounds of screams, shouts, and the ceaseless pounding of feet came rolling down the hall into the room. “Can you hear it out there? It sounds like the whole bloody Void has opened up. Pure chaos.”

“Yes, well that certainly sounds like Kendril’s work.” Maklavir gave a heavy sigh.

Joseph put one hand on the hilt of his sword. He glanced down at Kara’s huddled form, his face torn with indecision.

“I’ll stay with her,” Maklavir said softly.

Joseph stared down at the girl. He drummed his fingers on the rapier handle. “I can’t go,” he said between his teeth. “I…can’t
leave
her. Not again.”

“You’ll do no more good in here,” Maklavir said firmly. “I’ll keep the fire going and watch over her. Kendril may very well need you.”

Joseph hesitated by the door. He looked over at Maklavir, the agony showing on his face.

“As Eru is my witness,” the diplomat said, “I swear to you that no harm will come to her. Now
go.
”

Joseph nodded. He gave Kara one last look, then ran out the door.

Kendril reached the top of the set. He prayed the structure was sturdy. It was painted to look like an old stone Rajathan wall about fifteen feet high. Really it was made out of flimsy wood. It was probably safe enough for singing extras walking and standing on it.

Whether it was designed for a life-and-death struggle was another matter entirely.

Kendril dropped into an attack position.

Nadine lunged at him almost as soon as he cleared the stairs. Her blades flickered through the air, whispering poisoned death.

Blades clanged in rapid succession as Kendril blocked the blows, then swung a return strike at the assassin’s head.

Nadine ducked under the blow, then straightened and attacked again.

Kendril was still out of breath, and the run up the stairs hadn’t helped. His whole body ached, his head was throbbing, and even the old crossbow wound in his side was flaring up with pain again. He gave a ragged breath, fighting through the pain of his weary body.

Nadine jumped back. She sprang over a box that was wedged against the wall.

Kendril should have followed relentlessly. Instead he paused for a moment, trying desperately to catch his breath and slow his pounding heart.

With one swift motion Nadine sheathed both her daggers, then flipped the hooded robe she wore back from her shoulders.

The dark cloak fell in a heap to the ground around her feet. Underneath the loose-fitting robe the assassin was dressed in form-fitting leather armor. Daggers and throwing stars were tucked into specially-designed pockets on her legs and vest.

Kendril stared, confused and wary.

Nadine winked at him, then vaulted over the side of the battlements.

Kendril rushed to the edge.

The assassin caught an out-jutting section of the set, swung around it to lessen her fall, then landed as gracefully as a cat on the wooden stage below. She turned her head back to look up. Her long brown ponytail twisted across her shoulder like a snake. The white half-mask she wore gleamed in the light of the stage’s glow-globes.

Fifteen feet
. Kendril could already hear his ankle snapping from the fall. He took a deep breath and prepared to jump.

Nadine whipped back an arm.

The air hissed and flashed as several small throwing blades leapt forward.

Kendril instinctively jumped back, using the wall as cover.

Nothing happened.

“Goodbye, Kendril,” the assassin called out.

Kendril rose from hiding. He heard a snapping, tearing sound above his head.

He looked up.

There, twenty feet above him, hung a massive set-piece, shaped in the form of an absurdly-exaggerated beast of the Void. It lurched downwards suddenly as one of the ropes holding it up snapped, cut by Nadine’s throwing blades.

A second rope was already fraying and twisting badly.

“
Ashes
,” Kendril spat. He turned for the stairs.

The rope broke, and the set piece came crashing down.

Chapter 13    

Kara moaned softly. Her head moved just slightly underneath the blanket.

Maklavir slid over next to her. “Kara? Can you hear me?”

Her eyes blinked slowly open. She turned her head sluggishly. “Mak…Makl--?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He stroked her face gently with his hand. Her cheek was cold. “Joseph has gone to help Kendril. You gave us quite a fright.”

“So…cold…” she whispered. Her eyes slipped shut.

Alarmed, Maklavir bent in closer. His hand was still on her cheek. “Kara?” He glanced up at the fire. He had already thrown another of the desk drawers onto the blaze.

“Mak…Maggli…” she murmured. Her voice was drowsy and slurred, her eyes closed.

Maklavir leaned in. He kissed her on the lips.

She sighed softly.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Kara, I promise.”

“Mmm.” Her head settled back down to the floor. Her breathing became slow and steady again in sleep.

Maklavir scooted back to the wall. His hands were shaking.

Where had
that
come from? He looked guiltily at the door.

No sign of Joseph, thank Eru.

Maklavir closed his eyes and banged the back of his head reproachfully against the wall. “Steady
on
, Maklavir. Get a hold of yourself.”

He opened his eyes again, and looked over at Kara’s sleeping form.

Tuldor’s beard, she was
naked
under that blanket—

A huge crashing roar like a cannon shot echoed down the corridor outside the dressing room.

Maklavir jumped to his feet.

What on Zanthora—?

Flying debris sprayed from the collapsing set piece in a billowing cloud of sawdust and pieces of wood.

The Void creature shattered in two pieces. One of its wings cracked off and slapped with a boom against the back of the stage. A faux tower crumpled under the impact, taking out the red curtain that covered the side of the stage as it fell.

Fire flashed from the Void creature’s nostrils, spurts of flame that licked the demolished castle wall. The pyrotechnics, designed for a controlled fiery burst at the climax of the opera, raged out of control.

Flames began to lick and caress the shattered set piece, climbing higher and higher on the heap of broken wood.

Nadine licked her lips, relishing the sight of all the destruction she had caused.

There was no sign of Kendril. The Ghostwalker was undoubtedly buried under a ton of broken set.

Correction. Broken,
burning
set.

Nadine allowed herself a quick sigh. All too disappointingly easy. The Ghostwalker had been slow, granted, and a little on the clumsy side, but the way Bronwyn had spoken of him, Nadine had been expecting something a little…well,
more
.

Almost reluctantly, Nadine turned towards the orchestra pit.

Two other Ghostwalkers were there. One held a longsword, the other a two-handed greatsword.

“Surrender yourself!” Olan called.

Nadine felt her heart lift a little.

Apparently the fun wasn’t all over just yet….

Callen struggled to see into the mass of people down below them. “What are we even looking for?”

“Ashes if I know.” Tomas bit back an even nastier response. He gripped the railing, his eyes flashing back and forth over the fleeing guests. Surely these doors weren’t the only exit to the theater? How did they even know that the witch would come this way? And what if Kendril already had the Soulbinder, or had killed the witch himself?

In that case, they were wasting time sightseeing out here when they could be back in the theater, actually—

He saw them.

Tomas stared for a moment, stunned into temporary inaction.

There were two of them, Lady Dutraad and another dark-haired woman that Tomas could only assume was the witch Kendril had mentioned. They were both strolling casually towards the doors.

And there, hanging around Lady Dutraad’s neck in plain sight, was the Soulbinder.

Tomas felt his stomach lurch at the sight of it. It was pure evil, a sphere of darkness that absorbed the light. The glow-globes even seemed to dim as the Soulbinder moved past them.

“There,” Tomas said, grabbing Callen’s arm. “The two women. Quickly, let’s go.”

He turned for the stairs.

And then it hit him. Lady Dutraad and the witch.

They weren’t even
trying
to hide.

Nadine raised her hands to show that she was unarmed. “
More
Ghostwalkers? This really is my lucky night.”

Olan watched her suspiciously. He motioned to Hamis. “Disarm her.”

The bald Ghostwalker nodded, then moved towards the assassin.

Nadine cast innocent eyes on Hamis. “So, the girl with the white hair? She was one of you?”

He paused. A flicker of anger and worry crossed his face.

“She was very pretty.” Nadine smiled. “It was a pity to kill her.”

“Hamis,” Olan said slowly and quietly, “get her weapons. We need her to find the witch.”

Hamis bared his teeth. He hesitated.

He was enraged, unsettled, torn between following his commander’s orders and just lashing out with the sword in his hands.

Nadine could see it all in his eyes.

Perfect.

She leapt forward, cartwheeling across the stage so quickly that neither Ghostwalker even had a moment to react.

No knives this time, she decided. Kendril had been so disappointing as an opponent, she needed a little fun as compensation.

Hamis reacted a second too slow. He swung his massive sword in a two-handed swipe.

Clumsy and rushed.

Nadine ducked under the attack.

The blade actually swished less than six inches from her face.

Hamis was off-balance from the heavy weight of the weapon.

And just like that, Nadie was inside his defense. She jumped elegantly into the air. Her knee cracked hard into his chest. She did a handspring back, planted her hands on the floor behind her and kicked the stumbling Ghostwalker hard in his face.

He staggered backwards, his mouth bleeding and the wind knocked out of him.

Nadine finished the cartwheel and landed perfectly on her feet. She had barely stopped moving before she rushed forward again.

Stunned, Hamis tried to react. He spat blood from his mouth and pulled up his greatsword.

She attacked him bare-handed in a series of lightning-fast moves. Open hand to face, left knee to stomach. Twist, elbow to the back of his neck.

The greatsword dropped to the ground.

Nadine had fought practice dummies with more fight in them than this. She twirled around like a dancer and gave a full roundhouse kick to the Ghostwalker’s head.

Hamis tripped backwards over two of the glow-globes, then pitched down into the open orchestra pit.

Nadine spun around.

The second Ghostwalker was almost on top of her.

She somersaulted to one side.

Olan’s sword cut through empty space.

Nadine smiled. She couldn’t help it. It wasn’t often she was able to have this much fun. How long could she keep them alive, she wondered? The first one might already be dead from the fall. She hoped not.

Olan turned with a snarl. He came towards her again.

Still no knives
, she thought. With the poison covering the blades, it would be over far too soon.

Nadine moved forward to meet him.

The Ghostwalker brought his sword down, straight at her head.

He had good form, and good control of his weapon. Nadine always admired that in a man.

Good, but not good enough.

She sprang out of the way of the falling blade with unnatural quickness. It missed her by a good measure.

Olan recovered immediately, and swiped at her again.