Bloodforged (28 page)

Still, she didn’t want it to go that way. The twin threats of Kiraly and the cults were too great. The help of the Lahmians would be vital to defeating them. She must succeed here. There was no other option. She squared her shoulders and knocked on the door.

The wait was much shorter this time, and when Severin opened the door and looked down at her over his broad, square beard, his, ‘Yes?’ was not nearly as full of contempt as before.

‘Ulrika Magdova Straghov, returning to report to Boyarina Evgena,’ she said.

The massive majordomo bowed her in and she entered, stepping once again between the shadows of the two gigantic bears that guarded the door. The dust-hooded eyes of all the other trophies glittered at her in the darkness of the entryway.

‘The boyarina is dressing,’ said Severin. ‘If you would care to wait in the parlour.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ulrika, then paused. ‘Ah, is Mistress Raiza awake?’

‘She is in the ballroom,’ said Severin. ‘You wish to see her?’

‘Please.’

‘This way.’

Ulrika followed him through the hushed house, pleased he hadn’t asked for her sword this time – another improvement over the last time she had visited. He led her again through cobwebbed corridors lined with stuffed birds and beasts to a set of panelled double doors, behind which she heard a long-forgotten swishing and thudding and cracking. He pushed them open, then bowed into the room.

‘Mistress Ulrika, mistress,’ he said.

Raiza’s steel whisper came from within. ‘Show her in.’

Severin turned and bowed to Ulrika. She stepped in and, just as she had expected, found Raiza, in white shirt and tan breeches, engaged with a fencing dummy, which had been set up at one end of the long, heavy-beamed room. Ulrika smiled. She had guessed it from the sounds, which she remembered from her days training with her father’s Kossars – the swish and thwack of wooden sword on leather, the shuffle and thud of boots as they stamped and lunged.

Raiza was belabouring the dummy with her usual lightning precision, beating aside the wooden pole that stuck from its chest and thrusting home, only to thrust a second time before the dummy had stopped rocking from the first.

‘Mistress, I am relieved,’ said Ulrika stepping forwards with a smile. ‘You are recovered.’

Raiza gave the dummy a final stab in the throat, then turned and bowed. ‘Only partially,’ she said, and held up her left arm. It ended in a stump just below the elbow.

Ulrika stared, aghast. Raiza’s movements as she fenced had been so smooth she hadn’t noticed. ‘Mistress, I… Forgive me. I didn’t–’

‘Do not apologise,’ said Raiza. ‘But for you, it would be all of me that was missing. As I said before, I will not forget.’

Ulrika looked down, embarrassed. ‘So, it did not heal? It will not grow back?’

Raiza shook her head. ‘Boyarina Evgena is a skilled sorceress and healer, and tried everything in her power to restore it, but could not. The black knife is a fell weapon.’

‘It is,’ said Ulrika. ‘I have learned more of it, and have returned to warn Boyarina Evgena of it and the man who wielded it.’

‘Then you should wait to speak of it until she comes,’ said Raiza. She turned to the wall and leaned her wooden practice sword against it, then picked up her sabre and tucked it under her truncated left arm. ‘Until then, will you fence? I am learning to adjust my balance to my new… condition.’

‘I would be honoured,’ said Ulrika.

She undid the points of her doublet and shrugged it off, then unbuckled her sword belt and drew her rapier as Raiza unsheathed her sabre and let her scabbard fall to the ground. They crossed to the middle of the ballroom, saluted each other and went on guard.

Raiza raised an eyebrow. ‘An Imperial stance and a Tilean sword. Are you not from the northern marches?’

Ulrika grinned. ‘Aye, but I practised for a time with a skilled swordsman of the Empire, and adopted some southern techniques.’

‘Very good,’ said Raiza. ‘We shall see if they avail you.’

And with that she lunged forwards, aiming straight for Ulrika’s heart. Ulrika dropped her hand and turned the thrust on her hilt, then returned it, aiming for Raiza’s throat. Raiza’s sabre knocked her point aside and slashed back at her shoulder. Ulrika leapt back, unable to avoid the attack in any other way.

The loss of a hand seemed to have in no way impaired the swordswoman’s abilities. She was just as fast and agile as before, her blade as hard to catch as flickering lightning. No sooner had Ulrika parried it, than it struck somewhere else.

Then Ulrika saw a weakness – a tendency for Raiza to block too wide to her right side, leaving her middle momentarily open. Ulrika attacked her three times in quick succession, each time leading her arm a little more to the right, then a fourth time, a dip under her blade to disengage, and a second thrust straight for her belly.

Raiza’s knuckle guard smashed down on her hilt like a hammer and Ulrika found the tip of her sabre pressed hard against her sternum. She froze. She had been caught, and would have been impaled if Raiza had followed through.

‘A trap,’ she said. ‘I’m embarrassed to have fallen for it.’

‘Do not be,’ said Raiza. ‘You only fell for it because you are an excellent blade. A lesser sword would not have seen the bait, and therefore would not have taken it.’

‘Then I will have to strive beyond excellence,’ said Ulrika as they stepped apart. ‘For I would wish to know the bait for what it was next time.’

The swordswoman smiled. ‘I have many years of tricks in my head,’ she said. ‘And you will have ample time to learn them.’

‘I look forward to it.’

They reset, but then Ulrika lowered her rapier. It was rare to meet another woman who fought, and she was curious. ‘Forgive me,’ she said. ‘But how did you come to the sword, and… and to the boyarina?’

Raiza’s jaw clenched, and Ulrika was afraid she had pushed the swordswoman’s new friendliness too far, but after a moment she spoke.

‘I came to the sword as you did,’ she said. ‘By way of family. My brothers rode in a rota, as did my husband. When the hordes came the last time, they took my farm, and my daughters, and in the end my husband too. When my brothers brought his horse and his armour back to our village, I put on the armour and mounted the horse and rode with them to war.’

‘The last time?’ asked Ulrika. ‘This past winter?’

Raiza shook her head. ‘Two hundred years ago, during the Great War against Chaos. We fought here in Praag, at the Gate of Gargoyles, and then through the streets, when Magnus and the Tzar retook the city. It was then that I met Mistress Evgena.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘She and her men were defending her house – a different house at the time – from pillagers, and my brothers and I came to her rescue. All… all were killed but me, and I was dying. She gave me the dark kiss. I have been with her since.’

Ulrika nodded, but she was surprised at the end of the story. She had not seen anything like compassion in Evgena. ‘The boyarina was moved by your sacrifice?’ she asked.

Raiza snorted. ‘She saw a serviceable sword on the street, and picked it up. That is all.’

Ulrika looked at her. ‘You don’t like her?’

‘She is perfectly fair,’ Raiza said, evenly. ‘What else can one ask from a mistress?’ She raised her sabre into guard. ‘Shall we go again?’

Ulrika made a salute, but as she readied herself, there were footsteps in the hall and the doors opened. She and Raiza lowered their blades as Evgena and Galiana entered, their long dresses hissing on the floor. They were followed by a handful of men-at-arms.

Ulrika bowed low. ‘Mistress. Sister.’

They did not return the courtesy.

‘You did not return last night,’ said Evgena, eyeing her levelly. ‘We were concerned for your safety.’

Concerned I had abandoned my vow, more like, thought Ulrika. Well you will see in my heart that I haven’t. ‘I apologise, mistress,’ she said aloud. ‘My hunt for your enemies left me far from here at sunrise. I was forced to find shelter elsewhere.’

‘And was your hunting fruitful? Did you follow the cultist Raiza told me of to his lair?’

‘Mistress, I did not,’ said Ulrika. ‘By the time I set off for him, he had vanished.’

Evgena’s eyes flared. ‘So, you lost the monster who cost Raiza her hand, and also fumbled the lead with which we provided you. Most impressive. Have you
anything
to show for your night’s endeavours?’

Ulrika suppressed an angry response. ‘Yes, mistress, I have. I have learned the identity of the man who attacked Mistress Raiza, and the nature of the weapon that hurt her.’

The boyarina’s rigid face softened a little. ‘This is good news,’ she said. ‘Come to the drawing room. We are to hear from some of our spies now, but we will hear you first.’

Ulrika bowed, then slipped into her doublet and strapped on her sword belt and followed the others through the house to the room with the dried-blood walls and the cold hearth. There, Evgena took her seat on the divan, while Galiana curled in her chair, and Raiza stood at the boyarina’s shoulder, just as she had the night before. Ulrika wondered if anything about this ritual had changed in two hundred years.

‘Speak, then,’ said Evgena, when Ulrika had taken her place before her. ‘Who is this cultist who wields such powerful weapons?’

‘The weapons are called Blood Shards, mistress,’ said Ulrika. ‘And there are five more. They are soul prisons. They suck the essence from their victims and hold it within them for eternity. Had Raiza taken a worse wound from it, she… she would have been consumed.’

Galiana shivered and Raiza’s face grew more grim than usual. Evgena’s remained cold and composed.

‘And the cultist?’ she asked.

‘He is not a cultist, mistress,’ said Ulrika. ‘It was only a disguise. He is someone from your past. A vampire.’

‘Don’t be coy with me, girl.’ snapped Evgena. ‘Who?’

‘His name is Konstantin Kiraly,’ said Ulrika. ‘And he has come north to take revenge on you for–’

Evgena cut her off with a dry laugh. ‘Who has been telling you this nonsense? Kiraly is long dead. I killed him myself. I cut off his head.’

‘I was told he was taken to Sylvania and… and brought back to life.’

Evgena scowled. ‘Told by whom? Who knows of Kiraly?’

Ulrika hesitated. She had reached the point of no return. If she couldn’t convince Evgena that Stefan’s story was true, and that he was no threat to her, she would likely be thrown out on her ear, or worse. Not for the first time, she wished she had Countess Gabriella’s gift for persuasion. She swallowed.

‘It was a vampire named Stefan von Kohln who told me, mistress,’ she said. ‘He seeks vengeance on Kiraly for the death of his blood father. He wishes to ally with you – to combine forces to defeat Kiraly and the cultists.’

Evgena’s lined brow furrowed. She turned to Galiana. ‘Stefan von Kohln. Is that the name of the Sylvanian pup who came sniffing around here recently?’

‘It is,’ said Galiana. Her bright black eyes glittered suspiciously at Ulrika.

‘He did come to you recently, mistress,’ said Ulrika. ‘You turned him away without allowing him to speak.’

Evgena curled her lip. ‘Turned him away? Raiza would have killed him had he not run so fast. And now you tell me this assassin is your confidant?’

‘He is no assassin, mistress,’ said Ulrika. ‘Your enemies are his enemies. He too hunts the cult, and he has sworn to kill Kiraly, who has sworn to kill you. You should fight on the same side.’

Evgena’s eyes blazed, her hands gripping the arms of the divan. ‘You are either a dupe or an assassin yourself. I am not sure which is more dangerous. Either way, you have broken your vow to protect me by consorting with this Sylvanian, and will pay the price.’

‘Mistress, I have not!’ said Ulrika, her voice rising in spite of herself. ‘You
know
I have not. I have done all that I have done with the best of intentions. I am trying to protect you.’

‘Then you are a dupe, as I said,’ sniffed Evgena. ‘And are too much a fool to live.’

‘Please, mistress,’ Ulrika begged. ‘Will you not consider even for a moment that Stefan’s story is true? Kiraly lives! Raiza and I have faced him! Can you deny the loss of her hand?’

‘Oh, I am certain you faced someone,’ said Evgena. ‘And I am certain I know who it was – and so do you.’

The thought froze Ulrika. Could it be true? Could it have been Stefan hidden behind the cultist’s mask? It didn’t seem possible. She had seen his face when he learned of the Blood Shards. He had been aghast. He had gone mad. He had torn the Novygrad apart looking for Kiraly. Could it all have been a trick? Well, yes, it could, but to what end? She couldn’t see a reason for it.

‘I don’t believe it, mistress,’ she said. ‘Stefan has wanted nothing to do with you from the beginning. It was I who suggested enlisting your help in fighting the cult, and he who rejected the idea. It was I who insisted we must all join forces. If he had wanted to use me to get to you, wouldn’t he have
begged
me to do these things?’

Her words fell into a cold, hard silence. All three of the Lahmians were looking at her now with hard, dangerous eyes.