The Seven Markets (33 page)

“Just kill it,” Hart said. “Get him down here. The day’s wasting.”

Cutter’s cage fell away like quickly melting ice. Ellie was a good way off, but she could still make him out quite well. His skin was singed in a hundred places, remnants of the iron nipping at him. His clothes were ragged, held together by threads. He had no weapons in his hands. His hair seemed lighter than she remembered, a little thinner than in her memories. She was on his left side and couldn’t see his eyes, but it was safe money he didn’t look happy.

“Send him down.”

Cutter was beaten and weary, but corralling him was still a chore for the men on the platform. Eventually they managed to work him over the edge. He landed poorly, picking himself up without a moment’s hesitation. A short sword was less than five steps away.

“Go on,” Hart said, goading his prey. “I won’t bite. Not yet. No fun in that.”

Cutter dove for the short sword, rolling where he hit and coming up in a tight fighting stance, the sword drawn and ready to strike.

“Oh, bravo. Look at you. What a hero.”

Hart wagged a finger at Cutter and the bodyguard’s feet left the ground. He rose up several feet and dangled, unsupported, in the air.

Needing to be closer, Ellie made her way to the shade of a balcony directly above the two combatants. They might see her if they looked up, but for the moment each was focused entirely on the other.

Hart drew a long, curved blade from a scabbard on his belt. “Glamours. You people, you’re so . . . uncreative.
Oh, I can make myself look human, how fun!
As if that’s all they’re good for.” He gestured with his hand again, and Cutter shot straight up into the sky, a limp puppeteer’s dummy being yanked away by his strings. He was a blur as he passed her hiding spot, but still Ellie suspected the canny old warrior had caught a glimpse. She withdrew from the daylight, cursing herself for a fool.

It was too early to be seen.

Hart toyed with Cutter a while, knocking him into the sides of buildings, jerking him this way and that. He called up after Cutter, “Having fun, Captain? I know I am. This is a long time coming.”

Then, without warning, he cut the puppet’s strings. Cutter plummeted to the ground, arms flailing for anything to grab hold of. He hit the remains of one roof, but slid off too quickly to snare a handhold, rebounding off a swinging wooden sign and slamming into the ground with a bone-cracking thud.

How Cutter pulled himself to his feet Ellie could not say. That he still held the short sword was nothing short of miraculous.

Unbothered by his foe’s survival, Hart strode over, confidence hanging in the air around him like a stink.

“Such a gentleman, aren’t you? Too polite to die before I’ve had my fun. People forget how important manners are these days, don’t you agree?”

Hart rushed at him in a sudden, vicious frenzy of movement, his bare hands becoming a pair of gleaming golden blades. Cutter fell back, raising his borrowed weapon in a bid for defense against the deadly assault. He was quick enough—barely—but Hart was too strong. With every block, the bodyguard gave up more and more ground. It was plain to Ellie that fighting Hart this way was a short-term solution only.

Cutter stumbled, lowering his sword for a moment. Spotting his opening, Hart closed the distance, sweeping his blades down in a deadly arc. Ellie froze, sure the fight had just ended.

But Cutter was a canny foe. In stumbling, he’d widened the space between Hart and himself. When Hart moved to fill it, he overextended, leaving his midsection exposed.

“Ha!” Cutter drilled a deadly snap-kick into Hart’s belly, knocking the wind from him. The soldier crumpled, giving Cutter the opportunity to follow up with another kick.

Doubling over, Hart groaned and clutched himself. The blades disappeared, leaving only a very ordinary-looking man curled in a ball on the street.

Cutter settled the point of his sword against Hart’s throat. “Yield, villain, and I will show mercy.”

Hart wheezed out a ragged cough which turned into a deep chuckle. When he looked up at Cutter, the three of them were so perfectly lined up that he might have been looking through the bodyguard and right at Ellie.

“Sure you will,” he said. A lunatic grin broke across his face, and Cutter was flung back into a signpost. Hart unfolded himself and stood, unharmed.

“Nice shot there. Right in the breadbasket. You’re some kind of tough guy, still going after the day you’ve had.”

Hart waggled his fingers as if striking keys on an invisible keyboard. Panic rose in Ellie’s belly as she realized what he was doing.

“Show you something neat, Cap’n. A little trick we cooked up just for you. Kind of a surprise but I think you’ll get a kick out of it. You like surprises, don’t you?”

A nimbus of shimmering yellow light surrounded Hart’s body. As Ellie watched, the light solidified, building layer upon layer over itself, growing tall and broad, with the faintest splash of darkness at the center: Hart’s body, driving the enormous suit of armor that had enveloped him.

He stood taller than any of the giants, towering over the Market street. His feet were those of the mechanical beasts, drilling into the ground with every step he took. When he stomped after Cutter, it seemed to Ellie as if the entire Market was trembling in fear.

Ellie leapt out from her cover, slicing through the air, and snatched Cutter out of harm’s way a second before Hart could mash him to a bloody pulp. Hot chunks of street rained down on them as Ellie took several loping gallops to escape from the grinding maw at the bottom of each foot. Stabilizers. Sure.

“Hold on!”

She threw herself up at the rounded side of a rose-colored tower. Its face was smooth, but she had no trouble finding a grip. Carrying Cutter, she could only climb with three legs. So long as Hart was confused, she could be fast enough, but she wanted to be in the air before he realized Cutter had gotten away.

The tower was only a few stories tall. Ellie reached the top with no sign of attack from the ground. She paused just long enough to flip Cutter from one claw to the other before exploding into the air, beating her membranous wings and climbing as quickly as she dared. There was still too much to fear on the ground; armed soldiers, the remaining beasts, and of course Hart himself. Given the choice, she was content to try her luck in the air.

Ellie had always been good at flying.

Hart’s voice, amplified by his armor, followed her from below. “Another dragon?”

She caught an updraft, opening her wings to their full span, treasuring even in this chaotic moment the sublime pleasure of being one with the sky. Her scales were a deep ocher, her eyes the same glittering opal they had been when she was human. They never changed, the eyes, regardless of what form one assumed. It was a fact Joshua never let her forget.

“I can try and lose them,” she said, shouting back to Cutter. “Buy us some time. I wasn’t supposed to come out yet. It’s still not safe.”

A pair of fiery missiles from the approaching fliers punctuated her point. Hart had wasted no time in setting them upon her. She spared a look back and saw all six of them converging into a flying V formation. Why bother with fancy tactics when it was only one opponent you were chasing down?

She rolled onto her side, letting momentum carry her around another tower, placing it between herself and the fliers. Landing on an exposed terrace, Ellie was able to pause a second and catch her breath. She set Cutter down and flexed the claw that had been holding him.

“Papa said we should make me a harness in case I ended up with a rider. How does the man always know?”

Cutter had no response. He stared up at her in abject wonder.

“Hey, cut it out and focus. We need to buy a few more minutes.”

“Your voice,” he said. “I know it. How can that be?”

She tapped the golden collar around her neck. “Glamour. But it’s a long story. As far as the voice, of course you recognize it. Honestly, I figured you’d know me no matter how I looked.” She sat back on her haunches, tail curled around her forelegs like the train of a wedding gown. Her neck was long and graceful, but she looked down so he could see her eyes.

“Ellie?”

“Odd day, isn’t it, sir?”

He shook his head. “I just saw you . . . the nexus, it isn’t deadly, is it?”

“Depends on your definition. I suppose it would have been for most anyone else. But we’ve got more pressing worries. Any thoughts on how we stall these buggers for a few minutes?”

“What happens in a few minutes?”

“Big surprise. Tough to describe, but don’t worry, you’ll love it. Thoughts?”

“The outer districts? There’s a broad meadow to the west which should negate their numerical advantage. If you’re as fast as you seem, and if you can keep it up.”

“Just you watch me. Um, should I leave you here or are you coming?”

He grinned. “Just you watch me. Lean down, let me see if I can free up your other claw.”

Cutter removed his boots. Barefoot, he was able to curl his toes around the edges of Ellie’s scales. That, and a length of thick rope, allowed him to create a makeshift harness, securing himself to her back.

“Comfortable?”

“Just go,” he said, holding tight to the rope.

She dove off the balcony, tucking her wings in tight, letting gravity provide the acceleration. The wind roared in her ears, but she could still hear Cutter when he shouted from his new vantage point.

“Just in time! Look!”

She glanced back; the fliers had made short work first of the balcony and then the top section of the tower itself. So much wanton destruction.

“Ellie!”

Her wings burst open, arresting their descent, and they shot off to the west after Cutter’s meadow. She wasn’t sure how the open space would afford her an advantage over the fliers, but she was prepared to take him at his word.

She kept low to the ground, snaking through the Market’s thin streets and dark alleyways. Much of what she saw was undamaged. The battle had been confined mainly to the center of the Market: the inn, the high street, and the surrounding shops. It was too narrow for her to fly properly, so Ellie alternated between dashing across low rooftops and touching briefly down on the street. As the shops became more scattered and the buildings lower, she was able to spread her wings and take to the air once more.

“There it is,” he said.

Ellie did a wide, lazy pass over the meadow. It was dotted with lush trees and three gently flowing streams. Where the wall of the Market should have been was only a hazy border, like watching the air ripple over an open grill.

“It’s there,” he said. “Study the ground. Make a note. We’re going to use the Market against them.”

She nodded her approval, already visualizing aerial maneuvers she might employ to slam the fliers up against the stealthy barrier.

“Before you became the Prince’s bodyguard, were you a soldier?”

“I was,” he said.

When he didn’t say
Why do you ask,
Ellie could only assume he understood the root of her curiosity. Cutter thought like a soldier. He looked at a barrier an opponent might not notice and saw it as a potential weapon. She’d seen plenty of that during her years with Hart, preparing for their final attack on the Prince. She sensed a difference between the two men, however. Hart had always been eager to go to war, almost hungry for it. When Cutter described the different ways he saw to bring the fliers down, all she felt from him was resignation. He would do this because it needed to be done.

“There!”

They appeared from within a copse of trees, a gleaming V of flawless construction, and moved as one, adjusting their flight path to intercept her and her passenger.

“This is my first dogfight,” Cutter said. “Though I’ve been through plenty of sea battles. And I have fought a dragon or two in my day. When they get in range, they should scatter. They’ll think it’s going to confuse you.”

“It’s not?”

“No. Because when they scatter, you’re going to pick one and fly right at him. You should be able to close the distance in only a few seconds, no?”

She knew the effective range of their weapons. She’d paid for them, after all. “That should work. I’ll be exposed the whole time, though.”

“Be quick about it, then.”

Ellie continued her circuit of the Market, gradually increasing her altitude, noticing that the fliers were holding a steady course. Just before she was in range, they broke their formation, shooting off in every direction at once.

“Now!”

She picked the lowest one and bulleted right for him. The sky filled with gold smoke trails, but none of them came even close to touching her as she closed in on her chosen target. She spread her vast wings at the last moment, almost halting in midair. The flier dipped to avoid her and ended up presenting his belly to her claws. She slashed three times, tearing through the armor’s layers. Quick as an eagle plucking a rabbit from the low grass, she tore the pilot right out of his harness.

The flier vanished in a brief flash of golden light.

“They did that before,” Cutter said.

“Did what?”

“Vanished when we got to the human inside. I’ve never seen the like. And their touch burns.”

Ellie crushed the pilot’s control module and dropped him into the largest of the three streams below.

“It’s more of our tech, I’m afraid. Ironlight. Solid light projections—like a very basic glamour—with a hint of iron added on the molecular level. Just enough to be truly unpleasant. In retrospect, not my best idea, but it seemed great when we dreamed it up.”

“That explains why their projectiles burn.”

“I’m afraid so, Captain.”

He yanked his line to the left. Ellie went with it, narrowly avoiding a fresh barrage of golden smoke as it whistled past. She realized Cutter was doing what he could to steer her.

“My butt up here too,” he said. Cutter’s tone was light, half-joking. Cool as ice while riding a dragon through an aerial firefight. The result of too many years at war to count? Ellie felt her enormous dragon’s heart thumping away inside her chest, racing to beat the devil, and decided she didn’t ever want to feel as relaxed as Cutter clearly did during a life-or-death situation.