The Scarab Path (78 page)

‘Maybe
he doesn’t care about the man,’ said Marger, deliberately quiet to avoid the
echo.

‘You
said that he seemed to,’ Sulvec accused.

‘He did
seem to, but maybe I was wrong.’ Marger was uncomfortable with the knife-work,
Sulvec could see.
Another weakling: to be Rekef is to know
no limits
. For good measure Sulvec twisted the blade again, holding
Osgan down for easier purchase. The prisoner had been a useless babbler ever
since they had dragged him down here, going on about some phantom terror that
he seemed to connect with the old Emperor’s death. Putting the knife in had
only vocalized what had been going on in Osgan’s head ever since then.
It’ll do him good to let it out
.

‘He’s
out there, and he’s hearing this, and he’ll come,’ Sulvec snarled. ‘And don’t
think your reluctance hasn’t been noted. When Thalric does make an appearance,
you’d better impress me with your dedication, Marger. You don’t want to fall
foul of one of my reports.’

‘No,
sir,’ Marger replied with a sour look.

For the first hundred strides, Thalric had been running, heading out of
the hall of tombs and back the way they had come. Even as Che bolted after him,
she heard his footsteps stop as he took wing, skimming along into the pitch
dark, finding his way by the roiling confusion of sounds ahead of them.

She had
never been a runner but she did her best. Her wings flicked and flared, casting
her forward in awkward jumps, and when she touched the ground each time she
kept pelting along at top speed, still falling behind him but keeping him in
sight. Then he had passed the last of the blue-flamed fires and was into the
utter pitch, slowing to keep his course straight. She kept up her mad dash
after him, still moving with all the speed she could muster. She was just about
keeping level even as the next shrill scream coursed past them.

Too loud
, the thought was irresistible. Too loud in this
dead place. It was not a matter of respect but prudence. Too loud in the
silence, and Thalric was coursing too fast over all the trampled ages that had
lain here for so long. The thought that came to her in the midst of her
hopping, awkward flight was,
We will wake them
.

There
was light ahead, bright lamplight a hundred times more wholesome than the
pallid blue of the braziers. She saw that a ring of Wasps were waiting for
them, with two men in the centre, one of them crouching over the other. Thalric
had gone high, wings carrying him near to the ceiling.
They
will spot him at any moment
.

Motion
caught her eye. She saw another man there, standing beyond the lamplight. He
was a stocky Beetle-kinden with a shaved head, but the crossbow in his hands
belied any claim to being Khanaphir.

In the dark
, she thought,
he sees as I
do, and Thalric cannot see him
.

‘Thalric,
drop!’ she yelled at him, with all the breath she had left. She would remember,
later, only that he did not hesitate, banishing his wings and falling from the
air on to his feet just as the crossbow bolt ripped above him in the dark, to
be lost amongst the buttresses.

Then:
‘Go! Go get Osgan!’ she called, even as he hesitated, and she herself was
charging the Beetle man, her sword already out of its scabbard. He saw her
coming, but had time only to cast the crossbow away.

Thalric
lunged into the air and his hands were already wreathed in golden fire as he
hit the lamplight. His sting was his strong Art, burning further and fiercer
than most. Even though they were waiting for him he still surprised them. In
his mind was the one simple thought:
They need Osgan alive,
to trap me. They will keep him alive, so I have a free hand
.

The
closest man loosed his bolt too early, the fire skittering beneath Thalric as
he launched his own. He saw the Wasp thrown from his feet by the force of the
impact, his armour melted through and holed, a fist-sized burning mark in his
chest. Thalric did not slow, turning quickly and diving in the air just as the
others loosed at him. He let fly another two bolts, missing both times, then
was past them, diving fast into the darkness again.
And how
good is their leader now?
He heard the words even as he landed again,
feet skidding on the slick stonework as he turned himself around. ‘After him,
you two!’ came the order, and Thalric was waiting for them, fingers spread and
eyes hunting out their silhouettes.

In the
darkness, Che drove in with her blade, with no time to think:
I am killing another of my people
. He was Rekef in her
eyes, and that removed any trace of kindred. She ran him through without mercy.

Or that
was the plan. The Beetle threw himself backwards but one arm was already
sweeping for her swordblade. She felt the flat of her sword taken aside by his
armoured forearm, and then he punched her with his other hand.

Even
though he was moving backwards at the time, the blow hit far harder than it
should have done, stopping her short with her head ringing. He followed up,
grappling for her sword hand and driving a solid shoulder into her chest,
knocking her backwards. She swung at him again but he was too close. The guard
of her sword struck him in the face and gashed his cheek, and then he
backhanded her hard enough to rattle her teeth. His fists were weighted with
gnarls of bone about the knuckles, a Beetle’s Art-given weapons.

She
tried for distance, hoping to get him at the end of her sword again while
ducking aside from his next blow. He did not give her a moment’s peace, already
grabbing for her wrist to get the sword off her. She cut his fingers once as he
misjudged the distance, but even that did not slow him. His expression was implacable,
a man performing a difficult but routine job.

I am really not a fighter. I forget that
. She broke away
sideways, hacking at his head, but he got an arm in the way. The blade bit into
the leathers he wore under his Khanaphir clothes, but did not draw blood.

In the
darkness of the far side, Thalric’s hand flashed fire twice, three times. One
of the men barrelling towards him abruptly tumbled out of the air. The other
twitched aside at the first flash, and then was on him, faster than either of
them was ready for. He had his sword out but Thalric skipped aside from it, and
shoved an elbow painfully into the man’s jaw. For a moment they were grappling,
each trying to find a clear moment for either stab or sting. Then Thalric
dragged his opponent down and drove a knee as hard as he could high into the
man’s ribs, at the point where the armour of the light airborne left off. He
heard at least one crack, as the soldier hissed in pain and fell away. Thalric
sent a stingbolt after him but it flew wide, the man’s wings taking him back
into the dark.

Running out of time
. Thalric let his own wings lift him,
and was scudding back towards the lamplight and towards the diminished enemy.
The leader in the centre had a sword out now, Osgan kneeling at his feet.
Thalric extended a hand towards him, and swooped in with all the speed he had.

In her
own fight, Che stumbled back three paces where she had intended one, catching
the man by surprise. For a moment she thought she had him. The Beetle was at
her sword’s end and she drove forward triumphantly. It had been a feint,
though, to draw her out. He was already moving aside, after reading her
perfectly. One solid hand smashed down on her wrist, the blade spinning clear
of her numbed fingers. The other slammed for her jaw, but hit her shoulder
instead, hard enough to take her off her feet.

She
landed flat on her back, momentarily unable to suck in breath, one hand
scrabbling uselessly across the slimy floor for a sword that was well out of
reach. The Beetle dropped on her, planting a knee solidly between her breasts.
He had his own sword out now, held point down. In a swift, businesslike motion,
he raised it to stab her in the throat.

A metal
ball bounced and rolled nearby. The Beetle man hurled himself away from it with
instinctive fear, whilst Che just stared. Only later did she realize that he
must have thought it was a grenade.

The
sphere suddenly clicked open, its top half sliding into the underside to reveal
the dancing flame of an oil lamp.
A quisitor’s lamp for
exploring caves and ruins
, Che recognized it. It was a common enough toy
in the markets of Collegium.
But who?

The
Beetle man had come to the same realization, as Che thought,
Well, we’re both lit up like a bonfire now
.

She
heard the solid crunch of the crossbow bolt, as it took the man in the small of
the back and split two inches out of his chest. His face at last wore an
expression, although it was hard to categorize. He dropped.

She cast
a moment’s glance towards the Wasps, and saw Thalric swoop into the lamplit
circle and kill one of the soldiers there with a single blast of his hands. The
other Rekef spread out, as if trying to get clear of their leader, but
Thalric’s palm was now right in line with Sulvec’s forehead. They froze,
waiting for orders, while Sulvec locked eyes with Thalric. He had one hand on
Osgan’s collar. The other held the sword directed at his prisoner’s neck.

‘Let him
go.’

‘Give it
up, Thalric,’ Sulvec said. ‘Marger, take his sword.’

‘Not a
move,’ Thalric warned, and Marger stopped, his own hands ready to sting.

Sulvec
smiled.

Che had
stared at them for far too long before going for her own sword. Even as her
fingers touched it a boot kicked it down the hall. She found herself looking up
into the face of Accius the Vekken.

‘What
…?’ she said, utterly thrown. There was nothing readable in his expression.
With a deft motion he scooped up the quisitor’s lamp and flicked it shut.

He
grabbed her, finding her in the darkness by simple memory. Even as she recoiled
instinctively, he had grasped her sleeve and yanked her towards him, off
balance. His arm was about her throat, tight enough to hurt. She pried at it,
but it was like iron.
Ant-kinden strength
. Even
putting all of her weight on it there was not an inch of give.

‘Thalric!’
she got out, a strangled squeak. ‘Help!’

But as
the cry rang out, it was Osgan that moved. He abruptly lunged upwards, his head
striking directly under Sulvec’s chin. For a moment he was free. A stingbolt
lanced over his shoulder, and Thalric returned the favour with both hands,
making the Wasp soldiers scatter and scorching Marger’s arm.

Sulvec
snarled furiously. His shot at Thalric was close enough to singe his hair. His
other hand drove towards his prisoner.

The
blade sank into Osgan’s gut, all the way to the hilt.

Thalric felt
it as though it was plunged in him too, the sudden severing of his hopes.
Not after all this! Not after the swamps, after dragging him
across the city
, all that thought in a fractured second. Osgan gasped,
eyes wide, dropping to his knees with blood welling about the sword-hilt.
Thalric had seen wounds like that, had inflicted a few. They were agony, and
they meant death in almost every case, and never a quick one.

He bared
his teeth, torn. He heard Che cry out again, more distant now.
Don’t make me choose—
The stingshots began to burst around
him. He made an abortive move towards Osgan, felt one shot sear a line of fire
across his leg. His own hands were blazing, aimed he did not care where.

Che
.

He let
his wings spring to life and hurl him backwards into the dark, after her.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry
. He was Thalric, loyal to those
who served him and obeyed his orders. He did not abandon them.
But Che, I can’t leave Che
.

Into the
utter dark he went, and heard Sulvec bellow for his men to give chase. The
crackle of stingshot was all around him. He risked a look back and saw two men
coming for him.
To hell with the darkness
. He gave
his wings their rein, keeping to where he imagined the centre of the hall was,
hands outstretched for the walls.
The blue fires are ahead,
yet not so far ahead, and Che will see me coming. She will see me and warn me
.

Marger had darted off after Thalric, as had one of the others. The second
soldier crouched by the writhing Osgan, ludicrously looking as though he was
checking that the man was all right.

‘What
are you doing?’ Sulvec spat at him, already at the lamplight’s edge to follow
Marger.

‘Putting
him out of his misery, sir,’ the soldier said.

‘Don’t,’
Sulvec hissed. ‘Get after them.’ There was sudden movement from behind and he
whirled round. It was only one of the soldiers who had followed Thalric, after
the man’s first lunatic swoop across their torchlit space. He had an arm about
his ribs and was grimacing in pain.

Something
moved, everywhere around them. They all felt it save for Osgan, whose world had
now contracted to the gash opening his stomach.

Sulvec
froze. It was hard to say what had just happened. It was impossible, in fact.
He did not have the words or the concepts. There had been a shudder, through
the stone and in the air and in his mind, like an earthquake that had not moved
a physical thing, but had shaken a sense of threat into their very bones.

‘Go …’
Sulvec started, and then he watched blue flames suddenly flash into existence
down the hall, way beyond their own lamps. They illuminated no lamp-lighter. He
turned round, seeing that the same ghostly braziers had sprung up the other way
down the hall, too, leaving only a span of darkness immediately around the
Wasps. ‘Stay …’ he got out. ‘Marger will do it.’ His throat was so dry that his
voice was just a croak.