Icefall (36 page)

‘Go for—' Seth exploded. ‘You're not going to ring her bloody doorbell and ask if she's coming out to play!'

Rory folded his arms and glared.

‘No. No, no, no.'

‘Yes. I'm going to get her. I'm not staying out here while Hannah's in there.'

‘Iolaire!'

Iolaire only shrugged, as if to say
Don't expect me to control the wee bugger
.

Seth clutched his own head and gave a roar of exasperation.

‘Right,' he said. ‘You take my son. On these conditions. He stays back and stays in hiding, till
you
tell him otherwise. At Hannah's bloody
door
he stays back till you allow him forward. And you may wallop his arse, Iolaire, if he disobeys you at any point.'

‘Happy to,' said Iolaire. ‘Won't be the first time.'

In the salt-scented quietness the roan blew, and pawed the ground. Branndair gave a tiny whimper of impatience.

‘Murlainn,' said Fearna, examining his sword blade. ‘I'm bored.'

‘Me too,' said Sorcha.

A ripple of laughter went round the fighters. An edge of nerves to it, but it was laughter and it tasted of blood-hunger.

‘So,' said Seth. ‘No point waiting any longer.' He ran a finger along his sword blade and gave them all his best shit-eating grin. ‘For our deaths or anything else.'

 

Finn

There's no word for the colour of the dying sun on the moor. Amber, ruby, bronze: it's all of them, lit from within like stained glass as a lilac-and-cobalt sky dies behind it and takes the light. Night is coming, and night on the moor is not a place or time to be when enemies are close, but for those minutes it's beautiful, and all the more beautiful for being the last moor-twilight you'll ever see. Maybe. If things go badly.

We'll wait for nightfall,
Seth had said.

I walked up towards the ridge that overlooked the Atlantic, shining in the last dusk, but once I reached it, I couldn't look at the sea.
We all go back there,
Conal had said once, and I didn't want to go, not now.

So I turned my back and watched the moor-glimmer fade till the sun sank, and the last shadow crept across my land, and the horizon vanished into night and the darkfall.

 

Hannah

Without Sionnach, the darkness was worse. Emptier. I had nothing to do but go over and over Kate's family bombshell, and it made me sick and cold. She'd used me against my friends once, and now she was doing it again. Had that ever stopped, or had she been pulling my wires all along? Since I was born, even?

After they took Sionnach, it seemed ages before they brought more food. I was edgy with hunger by the time I heard the locks slide loose and the bolts shoot back, and the racket made me start and cringe against the wall. It was a reflex, kind of, and now that Sionnach wasn't with me I couldn't help it, the place being so pitch-black and soundless otherwise, but it made me furious with myself. I think that was part of the point.

The door swung inwards and light filtered in, a guard silhouetted against it. I blinked him into focus: the oily dark-haired one. He dumped a plate on the floor but this time he hesitated, running the key chain through his fingers and grinning.

‘Suspense killing you, is it, love?'

‘Don't call me love.'

‘I'll call you what I like. Witch-spawn.'

There was something about the guy I really didn't like. ‘Your boss know how you talk?'

‘My
queen
doesn't mind how I talk to you. Don't think you'll get any favours, by the way. Kate isn't sentimental.'

‘Fine. I wasn't expecting her to knit me anything.'

He gave me a filthy glower. ‘You'll have company soon. We're expecting your pals.'

‘Don't worry. Seth won't let you suffer.'

With two swift steps he had me by the throat, and now I regretted my cheek. His fingers tightened.

‘You're a mouthy little bitch.' He shoved my head against the wall and slapped me.

That hurt. Oh God. I tore uselessly at his hand, and my feet flailed, but I couldn't connect with his balls. He probably wouldn't have felt it if I had. Balls of steel, I thought, struggling, feeling rage fill me alongside the terror. I managed a stretched grin. ~
Balls of steel, or none at all.

He snarled, slapped me again, his other hand tightening like a garrotte. I couldn't breathe.

‘Cuthag!'

Never been so glad to hear a hostile voice. Oily gave me a last glare and let me fall. Buckling against the wall I sucked in breath, clutching my throat. Behind him a woman stood in the open doorway, arms folded.

‘Gods' sake, Cuthag, control yourself,' she snapped.

‘She's an impudent slag,' he growled.

‘That's all she is. I'm taking over guard duty here. Go get something to eat.'

‘Aye, Alainn. I'll need the energy.' He gave me a grin, then turned on his heel. The woman shut the door behind them both, and I was in darkness again.

Dark or not, I felt my face red and hot where he'd slapped it, and my throat was on fire, and suddenly my eyes were burning too. I gritted my teeth. I wasn't about to cry. No way. I put my hands over my face and swore at myself for the umpteenth time for letting them fool me. By the time I'd gone through my extensive repertoire of obscenities, I was a bit calmer. God. If I'd listened to Sionnach. If I'd never gone to the Caledonian. If …

‘If you hadn't gone, they'd have cut your cousin's throat. Or more likely they'd have taken her instead. Would have come to the same, wouldn't it?'

I blinked through my fingers. The door had swung open again—silently this time—and the woman guard leaned against the door frame. She had choppy brown hair and eyes so brilliant she could have been on drugs.

‘Well? Murlainn would have come after that Lauren creature, wouldn't he?'

I glared at her, best I could. ‘Doubt it. I wouldn't.'

She laughed, not very nicely. ‘You'd have begged him to. You mongrels and your consciences. Never mind. This is how it worked out.' She stood aside. ‘Get out.'

‘What?' I asked stupidly.

‘Get
out.'

I hesitated, expecting a trick.

‘If I have to say it again I'll die of boredom.' She half-turned to look over her shoulder. ‘Come and get her. I'm not standing here till she develops rudimentary intelligence.'

I staggered to my feet as someone barged past the guard. Barefoot. Dark v-necked t-shirt, very cool jeans. Gold earring.

‘Iolaire?'

They had him too? And Jed? For a moment I wanted to howl.

Then I wasn't sure it was Iolaire at all. Hair too short, eyes too dead. Then he smiled, or something like it, and I knew it was him, and for some reason I felt both overjoyed, and sick with dread. I blundered forward and into his arms.

‘Hannah. Come on.' He eased me away and gripped my hand. Nervously I eyed the guard, but she stood well aside, and Iolaire's body protected me. No chance of kicking her shins, even.

As soon as I stepped over the cell's threshold, a figure stepped from the shadows and grabbed me into a fierce embrace. I gasped a sob and let myself hug him back, even as Iolaire growled in frustration.

‘Did I say you could show yourself, you little shit? Did I say it was safe?'

‘Give it a rest, Iolaire.' Rory's voice was muffled in my hair.

And his hair? I reached to stroke its softness and it wasn't there. Ice balled in my stomach.

Before I could say a word, Iolaire pulled me sharply away from Rory. I was shaking so much I was afraid of falling, but Iolaire kept his arm round me as he turned to the woman. ‘Alainn.' His voice was menacing. ‘Where's Sionnach?'

‘They must have moved him,' she muttered. Sour, but she looked nervous.

A new fear gripped my guts. From somewhere, far away in the tunnels, I could hear the distorted echo of familiar sounds. Some things never changed.

Screams didn't change. Yells, crashing bodies, clashing blades.

Too far away to get the detail, but close enough. I knew how several dozen people fighting to the death sounded. I'd heard the same thing four years ago in the dun.

I gave Rory a warning look as he seized my hand. ‘I'm not going without Sionnach.'

‘We never thought you would.' Iolaire squeezed my shoulders, and let me go. ‘Let's find him.'

 

Finn

Iolaire had been right about the passageways. The narrowness of them gave us a distinct advantage, even if it wasn't quite so simple as one-on-one.

I found it hard to fight: not that I didn't want to. But I wasn't a swordfighter. My weapon was throwing-knives and I hadn't room for manoeuvre. When Seth flung aside a fighter or took a leap, or dived, I was behind him, I could spring on them. I could engage them close-to, fling myself on a snarling fighter as he turned. I could stop them turning on Seth. I could protect his back, the way I was sworn to.

What I mean is, I could kill.

It's in my blood. And I'd seen enough friends die.

Orach was close to me, though, and took many of them. Sorcha and Fearna, too, and Leoghar, the turncoat lieutenant from Faragaig. And Branndair, of course, who was better at finding an exposed throat than any human fighter. Faramach was a terrifying ghost in the dimness, coming at Kate's fighters like a rag of darkness, buffeting faces, clawing eyes, blinding and disorienting. It all left me freer to do what I had to do, and that was lock on Kate's mind.

Damn, but she was strong. I was strong too, but I could feel her malice battering against my brain. My head stung. My eyes watered. A fighter stumbled beneath Seth's feet: he took a leap from her shoulder at the next one. She rolled, got her balance, started to turn on him. I staggered forward, brain burning, but Orach got to her first and finished her. She was protecting Seth, doing my work, and just as well. I wouldn't have got there in time. I could barely think, let alone coordinate my arms and legs.

I knew there was noise, a hideous cacophony, but to my ears it was blurred. I could focus on nothing but the black malevolence that was Kate's mind, and for a fraction of time I couldn't see. Then Leoghar parried a dirk that came at my belly, slammed his foot into my attacker's chest and sent him reeling back. I yelled with rage, turning Kate back in my head.

I was strong too.
I was strong too.

Slowly, we gained ground down the long tunnel. Orach howled with pain and slammed herself bodily into her opponent, sending him reeling off balance. Blood flew from a gash in her arm as her sword split air and Sithe-flesh two feet from me. Ahead, on the point of Seth's sword, someone screamed long and horribly. I heard the sound of metal in flesh. I smelt blood. Ours. Theirs.

I was tiring.

No.

I couldn't tire. A little behind and to my right, Fearna shouted an obscenity, and his sword rang, and rang again, and thunked in something softer. A bolt of pain went through my head from temple to temple and I clenched my teeth and flung it back at Kate.

I had to contain her. Had to. Could, couldn't, could.

Could. For Seth. I'd already cut her from his mind. She couldn't have him.

~
You can't have him.

~
I already do.

~
Not any more.

I came to a standstill, couldn't move another step. I could only clench my jaw till I thought it would shatter, tighten my fists, hack at her mind as if with an axe.

So difficult. That black mind. It was slippery, shapeless, viscous. Striking it was like striking treacle. Beside me Orach shoved through to protect me.

~
You can't have him.

~
I already do.

~
Not any more.

Her voice. My voice. Screaming together in my head. I didn't know which was which.

~
You can't have him.

~
I already do.

~
Not any more.

 

Hannah

Part of me—the chickenshit selfish part—had hoped Iolaire and Rory would drag me bodily out of the caverns. At least I could admit it. At least the chickenshit wasn't going to win out. I kept telling myself that, because I was terrified, sidling deeper into the caverns behind Alainn, cold rock beneath my feet for a thousand miles.
So afraid.

Rory was with me, Iolaire at my back: my shaven-headed bodyguards. I didn't want to know why they'd cut their hair. I didn't want to know why they were alone.

I think I knew already, and I didn't want to know.

‘Stop,' hissed Alainn.

Rory put his arm across my chest, the gesture of warning turning into a hug. Light glowed faintly round a corner. Alainn looked more nervous than ever but she drew herself up arrogantly and stepped round the corner.

‘My prisoner,' I heard her say.

‘Not that I heard,' said a surprised male voice.

‘Gods, do you not know what's happening up there? The bloody rebels are at our throats.'

‘Aye, and I'm to hold this guy at all costs, or slit his throat.'

‘Aye,' she mimicked, ‘and now it's my turn. They've a familiar, a bloody raven. It's causing mayhem. Kate needs a close-quarters archer. Get your arse up there.'

‘Right.' He broke into a run as he rounded the corner, so his shock had only an instant to register before he was dead on the point of Iolaire's blade. I turned my face away.

Bolts clanged back on a wooden door, and Alainn pulled Sionnach out into the dim light. He swore, lashing out at her, but at Iolaire's low voice he froze.

‘Sionnach.'

He rubbed his eyes, blinked and grinned. ‘Iolaire.
Hannah!
' He hugged my head. ‘What's Rory doing here?' He snatched up the sword and bow of the dead guard.