Mistshore (16 page)

“I remember everything!” Her body shook with suppressed fury. “I possess all my memories, whether I want them or not. And you, sir, are not among them.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Icelin glimpsed movement. A slender shape flowed down the sloping floor toward them. Icelin thought it was a snake moving in a crooked line, but as it drew closer, she recognized the metallic smell. The substance pooled in a thick circle at her feet.

Cerest recognized it at the same time. He drew his sword.

“Greyas!” he cried. But there was no answer from the shadows.

Cerest looked down at the blood pool and cursed. Shenan shoved Fannie away and brandished her own blade, moving into position at Cerest’s back.

Icelin used the distraction to slide off the back of the crate, putting it between her and the elves. She heard Fannie stumbling for cover, but Cerest was no longer paying her any attention. He was watching the shadows intently.

“Show yourselves!” He shouted.

Tense, Icelin waited, but there came no answer from the shadows.

A breath passed, and a sound like beating wings came out of the darkness. A huge metal cleaver buried itself deep into the crate where Icelin had been sitting. The handle quivered from side to side.

Icelin reached up and snatched the weapon. As soon as her lingers touched the handle, the attack came.

Sull leaped from behind a crate, charging into the circle with a loud roar. The sight of the red-haired giant hurtling across the warehouse was enough to break apart Cerest and Shenan. They dived for cover, and Sull placed himself squarely in front of Icelin. He grabbed the cleaver from her and sliced her bonds.

“Get back!” Sull shouted as he parried a blow from Shenan’s blade with his mallet. The dagger left a deep gouge in the wood.

Icelin backed away, seeking cover. Cerest broke to follow when another shadow moved—a large burst of darkness that came from above.

Ruen dropped from a column of stacked crates, landing behind Cerest. He grabbed the elf around the throat, dragging him away from Icelin.

“Greyas!” Cerest shouted, twisting to shove the man off. “Rondel!” He spun. Icelin saw the instant the elf locked eyes with Ruen.

For a breath, Cerest froze like a frightened deer. Icelin heard him mutter, “Spellscarred,” before he went for his sword.

Ruen stood before him, unarmed and at ease. His knees slighdy bent, he all but danced on the balls of his feet. Cerest thrust with his blade, and Ruen jumped back. The thrust never came close to his flesh. The elf swung again, and again Ruen dodged, this time finding an opening to punch Cerest in the gut.

The elf stumbled back. His sword wavered; he didn’t know whether to attack or defend.

He has no notion of how to fight an unarmed man, Icelin realized. It would be more to his advantage if Ruen had a weapon.

The thief, on the other hand, appeared to be reading Cerest’s attacks before he made them. He danced back, sweeping his foot out in a kick that connected solidly with Cerest’s knee. The elf had his full weight propped there; he went down with a cry of fury.

This wasn’t desperate street fighting. Icelin observed Ruen’s measured stance, the balance between rest and motion. He stayed suspended between the two, almost floating, until Cerest’s attack came. Only trained, disciplined warriors fought this way, facing whirling steel with an air of serenity and absolute comfort in the strength of their bodies.

Ruen Morleth was not a thief, or at least, not only a thief. He was a monk, a warrior trained in unarmed combat.

A loud pounding sounded outside the warehouse door. Icelin tore her attention away from the battle. Ruen and Sull must have sealed the door from the inside when they’d entered the warehouse. Cerest’s men—gods knew how many had come running at the elf’s shout—were trying to break down the door. The flimsy wood and rusted iron wouldn’t hold for long.

Not this time. She wouldn’t be caught again. Icelin took a deep breath and searched her mind, cycling through spell after spell in the vast tower library.

Wind. Force. Her teacher had shown her how the spell could be used if she was ever jumped in Blacklock Alley.

Good enough to seal a door. Spellbooks opened and flew before her mind. She discarded the safe spells, those that would do no harm. She threw them all into a dusty corner and pictured a black book, something fearful and dangerous. Yes. Those were the spells she feared most, but they were the only ones that would aid her friends.

Then it came to her: a black tome with a gold spine. The words were written in faded ink, as if her mind were instinctively trying to protect itself from the deadly power in the words. She forced herself to visualize them clearly. Her heart tripped rapidly in her chest. She thought of a song to calm herself, chanted in time to the music, but her voice quivered. She was no monk. There would be no serenity for her in this fight.

The spell manifested in a burst of energy. Icelin’s hair blew straight back from her face. The hot wind made her eyes stream. She lifted her hands, and the wind rose, spiraling outward to the door in a contained funnel. The force of it grated against the wood, forcing the door tight into its frame. The pounding ceased.

“Ruen! Sull, let’s go! I can’t hold it for long!” Icelin screamed above the wind.

Sull turned, his mallet tangled with Shenan’s dagger. He kept barreling into her, knocking her off balance so she couldn’t cast a proper spell. “Hold on, lass. We’re comin’!”

Icelin heard a loud thud. It sounded like someone had been thrown into a pile of crates. She was too focused on the spell to see whether it was a friend or a foe.

The breath burned in her chest. Too hot, she thought. The air thickened, and sweat poured down her face. The spell was too strong. It was happening just like before, but this would be much worse. She could feel the heat building. Paint bubbled on the warehouse walls.

Gods, don’t do this to me. Not again.

Five years fell away like scales. She was losing control; the spell was slipping away, taking on a life of its own. Icelin was powerless to stop it. She could hear the screams coming from the boardinghouse. So many people, trying to get out….

The wooden door buckled in its frame. Frightened shouts rang out from the other side. Icelin fought to contain the wind, to keep it caged in its deadly funnel.

Flames burst into being and flew along the funnel’s rim. Icelin could do nothing but watch them, a dozen restless sprites spiraling through the air. Pain shot through her after each flame appeared, as if they were being torn from her body.

Icelin dropped to her knees, and the funnel burst. Freed, the fire shot in all directions. The deadly flame arrows buried in crates or ricocheted off the tin walls.

Everyone in the warehouse would be a target, Icelin thought wildly. She couldn’t end the spell; the magic became unrecognizable once the spell went wild. She had no way to contain it now.

Through a haze of smoke and pain, Icelin felt a presence behind her. For all she knew, it could have been Cerest or one of his men, come to stick a dagger in her back. Somehow, she knew it was Ruen. The thief crouched behind her.

“Can you walk?” He had to shout to be heard above the roaring wind.

Icelin shook her head. The slight movement made her vision

swim.

“I can’t touch you,” Ruen said. “My ring will enhance the spell. It could kill us all.”

“Where’s Sull?” Icelin said. “Fannie—she’s here too.” She couldn’t see them through the smoke. The crates were on fire, the blaze spreading to every corner of the warehouse. Soon the ceiling would collapse, just as it had done five years ago.

“Sull and Fannie are fine,” Ruen said. “The others fled in fear of your spell.”

Relief flooded Icelin, bringing with it a sense of peace. This was justice, she thought. I will die here and never hurt anyone again.

“Go,” Icelin said. “Get out of here. Make sure Sull gets to safety, and your marker is paid. That’s all I care—”

A wave of energy shuddered through Icelin’s body. She felt the last vestiges of the spell inside her explode outward. The door and part of the wall blew apart, but Icelin didn’t hear the grinding, tearing metal. The force of the blast deafened her.

“How convenient,” Ruen said. He was still shouting, but his voice seemed to come from very far away. He had his hands at her armpits, dragging her to her feet. “You made us a door.”

“You shouldn’t have… done that,” Icelin said. She swayed on her feet. A beam broke away from the ceiling, trailing a sheet of flame all the way to the ground.

“We’ve got to run,” Ruen said. He took her hand, yanking her behind him. “Put your arms around my neck.”

“But the ring—”

“Do it!”

Icelin wrapped her arms around him. Ruen lifted her onto his back and sprinted to the gap in the wall. Icelin felt as if she were flying. More beams dropped around them, but Ruen found a path through as if by magic. The fire and smoke were everywhere, but he kept running.

Suddenly they were through. Cool air hit Icelin’s face. It was daylight.

The twisted opening spat them out onto a small dock behind the warehouse. Parts of it burned with the building, but Ruen didn’t stop to see if it would hold their weight. He charged down the narrow platform all the way to the edge and jumped into the water.

The impact shook Icelin loose from Ruen’s back, but he stayed beside her. The cold water shocked her limbs into functioning. With Ruen’s aid, she swam to the surface.

“We’ll say in the harbor,” Ruen said when they’d caught their breath. “Swim underwater as much as you can,” he told her. “They’ll be watching to see if we survived. We’ve got to find cover.”

He dived down. Icelin followed, keeping a hand on his flank so she wouldn’t lose him in the murky water. As far as she could tell, they were headed roughly in the direction of the shore.

They surfaced in a thick stand of brush about thirty feet from the dock. Sull waited in the weeds.

“I saw you go off the dock,” he said. “Fannie slipped away. No one’s watching that I can see.”

Icelin was shaking by the time she got out of the water. When she came within reach, Sull pulled her against his chest, hugging ber so hard Icelin couldn’t breathe.

“I’m all right,” Icelin said weakly. She patted him on the back.

“Thought I’d lost you, little one,” the butcher said roughly. He released her and mopped his eyes with his apron. Ruen stood a little apart, scanning the area. The warehouse continued its slow collapse, but they were clear of the devastation.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ruen said finally. He moved away, crouching low along the shoreline, not waiting for their reply.

“Where are we goin’?” Sull asked. He led Icelin by the hand, half-supporting her. “She needs rest.”

“Back into the water,” Ruen said. He waded in up to his waist. “Keep her head up. She’ll be fine.”

The water felt colder. Icelin’s teeth chattered, but she swam with Sull’s aid, following Ruen into the harbor.

They swam clear of the dock and out into open water. The sky was gray and overcast. In the distance, deep blue clouds threatened rain, but the day was still too bright. Icelin felt horribly exposed. At any moment, she expected shouts to go up from the shore.

“Don’t worry,” Ruen said, seeing her expression. “We’re going under.” He took in her chattering teeth and general state

of disarray. “Sull, you’ll have to tow her if she slows.”

“I can make it,” Icelin said, but she slurred the words.

“We’ll stay under until we reach the wreckage,” Ruen said, nodding to the floating mass of Mistshore’s main body. “We should be able to swim under the docks and footpaths. Ready?”

Icelin nodded, and they dived. Sull kept one arm around her and used the other to swim close to Ruen.

They swam for what seemed like an eternity. After a time, Icelin simply floated in Sull’s grip, concentrating on keeping her breath in her body. When she felt she could bear no more, Sull angled upward to the light.

They came up under one of the wooden pathways. There was barely room for their heads underneath the rotting planks, but the sound of the waves lapping against the pilings concealed their gasping breaths.

Icelin could hear footsteps echoing loudly just above their heads. “Where are you taking us?” she whispered..

Ruen put a finger to his lips. He disappeared beneath the surface, leaving her and Sull to tread water.

“We should swim back to shore,” Icelin said. “I don’t like this.” She expected Sull to echo the sentiment, but the butcher shook his head. Water plastered his red hair over his ears.

“I wouldn’t have found you without him,” Sull said. “He tracked you. Persistent as a demon, he was. Ghosted into that warehouse and took out the meanest of the elPs men without a sound.”

“But why?” Icelin said. “He never wanted to help me. He could have left you on the beach to die.”

“Maybe he is everythin’ you thought he was,” Sull said.

Ruen broke the surface a few feet away and waved a hand. Icelin experienced a renewed shock of weakness as she slogged through the water. “We’re here,” Ruen said.

“Where?” Icelin asked.

“If you can hold on for a little longer, I’m taking us someplace

safe,” Ruen said. “Nine feet straight down there’s a figurehead: the Blind Mermaid, they call her. She sticks up from the sand, so you can’t see her fish half. She’s buried along with the rest of the The Darter.”

“The Darter?” Sull said. “You mean she was part of a ship?”

“She sdll is,” Ruen said. “But she has a more important job now. She’s the guardian of a door, a secret door we’re going to need. So we’ll be paying her a visit.” He raised a hand to forestall more questions. “When I go down, you’ll follow a few feet behind. Don’t be afraid of what you see, or how deep we go. Just keep following me.”

Icelin nodded, but her hesitance must have shown. Ruen scowled and shook his head impatiently.

“This is important,” he said, speaking to both of them. “You can’t turn around. Once we go down, it’s all the way. Or you’ll drown. That’s how they keep out the ones who aren’t supposed to be there.”