City of Light & Shadow (12 page)

  Regrets piled one on top of another in her mind. Why hadn't she listened to M'gruth when he called her? Why hadn't she pulled back when it was obvious there was no saving the fallen Kite Guard? They were hesitating because of her, she now realised. Her presence was
protecting
the bitch. Flechettes couldn't fly, bombs wouldn't fall, all because she was in the way.

  "Don't worry about me," Kat yelled. "Just kill the bitch!"

  That face, so like her mother's, seemed to swell, occupying all the Soul Thief's form. It demanded attention, capturing Kat's gaze and refusing to let her look anywhere else even for an instant.

  She felt her soul, if that's what it was – her inner spirit, the very essence of who she was – well up, pulled inexorably forward; a horrible, stretching, wrenching sense of being ripped apart from within, that made her want to retch and shriek at the same time. "No!" she growled through gritted teeth. She couldn't,
wouldn't
let it end like this.

  Somebody else was there, at her left-hand side, a presence dimly sensed.

  Kat abruptly snapped back to herself, reeling at the sudden return of perspective, welcome though it was. M'gruth stood beside her, clutching a flechette gun, mouth contorted into a scream of savage challenge as he poured metal round after metal round into the Thief.

  Kat brought her other hand up, sword still gripped in rigid fist, and sliced through the inky bond that held her other wrist.

  She staggered free. "M'gruth… pull back, let the others finish this," she said, her voice lost against the incessant chatter of the flechette gun. He hadn't heard her or didn't want to hear her. He might have come in close to help but his focus was now entirely on the Soul Thief, his face set in a snarl as he played the stream of darts over the creature's twitching, dancing form.

  Others were there now, off to one side – Ox and his team, the big man having carried the flame thrower with him. Tripod down and firmly grounded, Ox just needed a clear shot.

  "M'gruth, fall back!" Kat yelled.

  Then, disaster. In evading the darts tormenting her, the Soul Thief streamed away from the tower. Caught up in the moment, M'gruth followed, tracking her movements with the muzzle of the gun, trigger still depressed and darts tearing through her dwindling body and beyond… to rip into Ox and one of the men beside him. Both went down, gouting blood.

  "M'gruth!"

  He stopped then, mouth falling open in dismay. The Soul Thief was greatly diminished after the pummelling she had taken, the humped form suggesting that of a hunch-backed old woman as she cowered; but she reacted first, seizing her chance and flowing towards the stupefied man. Given a choice the Thief always went for talent. She had raided the streets at erratic intervals to harvest the seers and the healers and the other gifted, but evidently when push came to shove she could feed off any life force, as the unfortunate Kite Guard had so recently discovered. Kat ran forward, snatching up her fallen sword in her still-recovering hand and preparing to throw herself upon her nemesis once more. She wasn't about to let M'gruth die, not for her sake; in fact she had no intention of losing
anyone
else to this murderous hag.

  "Hey, you! Soul Thief! Where the breck do you think you're going, you coward? Come back here and finish what you started."

  The nebulous form paused, gathering itself into an upright near-human form. The outline of a face coalesced once more as if to encourage the impression. "As you wish," a voice seemed to whisper. The darkness flowed towards her.

  She braced herself and a smile creased the corners of her mouth. This was it: do or die; her against the Soul Thief. Just the way she'd always imagined it would be.

  Then the world tore apart; or at least the air did, quite literally. There came a rippling between the Thief and Kat, a peculiar twisting. Kat shuffled back, was
forced
back, by an intense gust of wind. It only lasted for an instant, the air falling deathly still immediately after, but in that instant two people had appeared out of nowhere.

  Kat gaped. "Tom?" And beside him a woman she recognised, a Thaistess, though she couldn't quite recall her name.

  "Kat?" He looked as bewildered as she felt.

  There was the suggestion of movement behind the two new arrivals. "Look out!" Tom and the Thaistess were facing towards Kat, they wouldn't even realise that the monster was at their backs, let alone that it was coming straight for them.

  The distance was no distance at all. Even as Tom began to react to her warning, black mist welled up behind him, as if set to engulf boy and Thaistess alike. Tendrils of night reached forward to encircle both their heads. The woman – Mildra, memory suddenly supplied – froze, her eyes opening wide as if from shock.

  Kat was only a few paces away, and wasn't about to stand by and simply watch. With a snarl, she raised her good hand, brandishing her sword, and… flinched.

  Searing light erupted from Tom's head, annihilating the fingers of darkness that had been attempting to grasp his skull.

  
What the hell?
Kat squinted, struggling to stare into that light, where she beheld a night black form rear up behind the lad, brightly illuminated by the energy pouring from him. Mildra had fallen over or collapsed, and was now sitting with one hand pressed to the ground for support and the other raised to shield her eyes as she too looked towards that darkness: the Soul Thief.

  The Thief had adopted a surprisingly solid-looking form, notably human though ragged at the edges as though flayed. Two protuberances sprung from her shoulders to sweep outwards before fading into wispy nothingness; they might almost have been wings. For an instant only, through screwed-up watering eyes, Kat beheld that form. Then it tore apart, quickly and violently. The raggedness extended, like a multitude of tears in paper swiftly spreading across an entire sheet. One instant there was a recognisable shape, the next it was rendered into a collection of mere strips that disappeared as if swept away by a gale. The brightness died and for a moment the whole world seemed still.

  All Kat could do was stare; unable, unwilling, to accept what she had just witnessed.

  Both swords slipped from her numb fingers as the truth slowly sank in. The Soul Thief was gone. The bane of her life had just been slain before her eyes, swept away as if it were nothing by a mere slip of a boy Kat had considered a friend.

  Tom, now looking like any ordinary kid, turned towards her, smiling broadly.

  "No!" Kat shouted.

  "Kat, it's all right, I'm not hurt."

  "Hurt? You stupid brecking bastard!" She flung herself at him, clenched fists pummelling his shoulder and head.

  "Ow! Hey, stop. What's wrong? I thought… will you stop hitting me!" He was backing away, arms crossed in front of his face for protection against the barrage of over-arm blows raining down upon him. Kat wasn't aiming to hurt, not really, he'd have been writhing on the ground by now if she had been. She just needed to hit
something
.

  "It was supposed to be me," she sobbed. He'd cheated her, robbed her of the only thing that might have brought her some peace, some closure. After a lifetime of hating and hurting, of scheming and dreaming, of imagining the sweet taste of revenge, he'd snatched it away from her. "
I
should have killed her. Not you, not anyone else…
Me
. Don't you understand?" Her one chance of redeeming herself, of making up for her shortcomings and putting things right with her mother and her sister, gone in an instant.

  "I… I'm sorry," he said as the assault subsided. "That thing attacked me. What was I supposed to do?"

  "I don't know, I don't
care
. I just… Argh!" How could he ever understand? How could anyone? Without saying another word she swivelled on her heel and strode away, fists still clenched, head bowed to hide the tears from Tom, from M'gruth, from everybody.

 

Tom stared after Kat, exasperated. What was wrong with her for Thaiss's sake? He'd arrived here disorientated, elated that he'd managed his first ever materialisation as more than a mere passenger, to find himself… where? Was this the
Stain?
And before he had a chance to get his feet properly on the ground he'd been attacked, his mind assaulted by the most evil and invasive presence he'd ever encountered. Cold, dank,
horrible
. The mere memory was enough to make him shudder. What did she expect him to do, stand there and let that thing kill him? Of course he'd lashed out.

  Quite spectacularly, he had to admit. His talent had never manifested so visibly before. It wasn't deliberate, he'd just been aware of an all-consuming darkness creeping into his head, like a damp, cold cloth, numbing his thoughts and pulling at his very being, as if trying to loosen it and winkle his spirit from his body. Light had been an instinctive response, to counter the dark. Maybe he could work on that, though; he kind of liked the effect.

  As for Kat… who did she think she was? The frissing monster was dead. What did it matter who'd done the killing? If anything she should be
thanking
him, not cursing and beating him about the head. Still, he didn't suppose Kat would ever make the first move to apologise; no, that would be up to him no doubt. With a sigh, Tom went to follow her, to explain, but he was stopped by a restraining hand on his arm.

  "Don't," Mildra said, her gentle face showing sympathy, concern. "Not yet. Give her a few moments to collect herself. She isn't in the mood to listen to reason right now."

  Tom drew a ragged breath and nodded. Mildra was doubtless right, as usual. He'd wait. So all that followed Kat was his gaze.

 

Kat walked away from everyone, suddenly desperate for some space. Ox groaned loudly from behind her and that almost gave her pause, but she breathed deeply and kept going. Why was she being so stupid? The Soul Thief was finally dead. Her mother, her sister, every single person that monstrosity had ever consumed, could finally rest in peace. If someone had brought her that news at any other time she would have rejoiced. So why did she feel so angry now, so
cheated
?

  It wasn't Tom's fault, she knew that. Beating up on him wasn't going to achieve anything – and where the breck had he and Mildra appeared from in any case? She glanced back, to catch Tom staring at her. He looked away quickly as their eyes met. Beside him, Mildra was already busy, tending to Ox and Petter, the other Tattooed Man M'gruth's overzealousness had injured. A cluster of tattooed figures stood around her as she worked. Kat hoped to Thaiss both the injured men were going to be all right. She'd lost enough friends of late and had precious few left to spare. Besides, M'gruth would be inconsolable if either of them died, and he was one of her best lieutenants. She was going to need him to be sharp and confident in the days ahead, not distracted and questioning his own competence. She remembered Shayna's prophetic words and hoped she wouldn't end up regretting that particular decision. The Thaistess had better be up to the task.

  Her gaze took in the rest of the group: the Kite Guards, now all firmly on the ground and seeing to their own fallen comrade, the arkademic in her pale blue robes standing close to Tylus, the Blade statue-still in the background…

  Sudden realisation gripped her. No, she shouldn't blame Tom, not when there was someone else more deserving.
Where were the Blade?
She set off, jaw set, temper barely in check. It had all been about her, Ox, and M'gruth; fighting the Soul Thief had been left entirely to the Tattooed Men.
Where were the brecking Blade?
Had they just stood by and watched? Had they deliberately done so in the hope that the Tattooed Men would perish or at least take a severe pounding? What were their orders? She was itching for a scrap, sick of people playing games with her life.

  "Hey!" she yelled, striding towards the Blade.

  The arkademic stepped across. If not exactly blocking her path, Isar certainly made sure she was in direct line of sight. "What's the matter, Kat?"

  "Out of the way, Isar," Kat told her. I don't have a problem with you, just with those walking pieces of coal over there."

  "Perhaps I can mediate," Isar said. "The Blade rarely speak."

  "Rarely fight much either, far as I can see," Kat snapped. Standing beside the arkademic, Tylus looked uncomfortable. Perhaps even a little embarrassed. Clearly he had no intention of getting involved in this if he could help it.

  "Ah, I see," the arkademic said. "You're upset because the Blade didn't get involved in the battle with the Soul Thief."

  "
Upset
? Two of my men nearly died just now, still may do, while the mighty Blade just stood around and watched.
Of course I'm upset!"

  "They stayed their hand out of respect for you," Isar said calmly.

  "Respect? What the breck are you talking about,
respect
?"

  "When the other creature with the metallic legs and sting attacked us from beneath the ground, you didn't want the Blade to interfere but were determined to handle it yourselves. They assumed the same applied here and that you would call on them if you wanted their help."

  Kat paused, realising the arkademic might have a point, but that didn't stop her for long. "If I didn't want them to help I wouldn't have included them as part of the attack plan."

  "They assumed you wanted them there for containment, to prevent the monster escaping."

  Kat scowled, not sure whether to believe Isar or not, but the woman's calm arguments had succeeded in taking the edge off her temper. Even so, the whole thing smacked of justification to her, of making excuses after the event. She glared towards the row of towering figures standing impassively behind the arkademic and raised her voice to ensure they didn't miss her words. "Yeah, well next time we're getting our collective asses kicked by a monster straight from hell, tell them to feel free to pitch in anytime they want."