Duskfall (41 page)

And wasn’t frost just an excuse? She could make amends with Lian, she could come clean with Knot. Frost wasn’t what stopped her, just her own stubbornness.

Nevertheless, gaunt faces stared back at her in her mind. The stained clothing. Black, frostbitten limbs from living out in the cold with no shelter or warmth.

I should just not take it for a few days
, If she could go a few days, she would know she was fine. If she couldn’t… then, perhaps, it would be time to admit she had a problem.

A few days. I can do that.

Even so, Winter found her gaze straying to Knot’s pack. He hadn’t said anything about the missing crystals. She hoped he never would, so she wouldn’t have to lie to him.

Winter glanced at the vampire, walking softly beside her. For some reason the girl seemed to stay close to her. It had bothered Winter at first, but given that both Lian and Knot seemed to be avoiding her, she appreciated the company. Cinzia, Jane, and Kovac walked behind. Lian hung back with them, although what he saw in the humans Winter didn’t know. That Lian the revolutionary, who had hated humans since they were children, preferred their company to hers…

This was stupid. Lian could do what he wanted.

There was a sudden sound and Winter looked back to see Kovac steadying Cinzia, who had stumbled on a patch of loose rock.

“Behold Canta’s grace,” Astrid muttered. Winter smirked.

Knot looked back. “You all right?”

“Fine,” Cinzia said. “We had a long night.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought priestesses weren’t allowed to do that sort of thing.”

“Stop,” Jane said, with enough authority that Winter found herself halting without even thinking about it. “You will not speak of my sister that way.” Jane’s gaze rested firmly on Astrid.

The vampire stepped towards Jane. There was a smile on the girl’s face, but her cloak concealed her eyes. Winter was glad of it; she had seen Astrid’s eyes and their eerie glow. The priestess apparently felt the same way, and took a step back. Even the Goddessguard seemed to flinch.

Jane, however, stood her ground. “You do not have to be this way, you know.”

Astrid snorted. “I am what I am. There’s nothing me or you or anyone else can do about it.”

Jane shook her head. “You think you are beyond saving, but you are not.”

“Might want to check your doctrine on that one. I’m a daemon, according to your stupid Denomination. That goddess you’re talking about, the one that you claim loves us all? She’s the one that cursed me to begin with. Pretty sure there’s no love lost between us.”

“The Denomination is wrong.”

For once, Astrid seemed speechless.

“Whatever,” the vampire finally said. “I don’t need the Denomination, I don’t need whatever it is
you
think you believe, and I sure as Oblivion don’t need your pity.” Astrid turned and continued along the river.

“Wait,” Knot said. Winter looked at him. Something in his voice was odd, strained somehow.

“If you think I’m going to apologize, you have another thing—” Astrid stopped in mid-sentence just as a man, clad in a long, dark-green robe, stepped out of the forest to their left and pointed a longsword at Knot’s neck.

Winter grasped one of the
faltira
crystals—her fingers had already been wrapped around one of them—and placed it in her mouth.
So much for going a few days without
. Power filled her almost immediately. The high was still more tempered than it had once been, her pain and pleasure dulled. The high was less, but the need was more. Perhaps taking two crystals would help.

But now wasn’t the time to test that theory. More men appeared from the forest, clad in dark green. Robed men, at least a dozen of them. The same green robes worn by her father’s killers and by the ambushing party on the road to Navone. Winter and her companions were surrounded.

Yet, Winter smiled. She was not helpless anymore. Revealing herself as a psimancer would be risky, of course. Knot would have questions, questions that would lead him to what happened in Navone. But that didn’t matter. If she could not protect her friends with telesis, what use was it? Reaching out a
tendron
towards the man threatening to kill Knot, she pulled at his sword.

Nothing happened.

She frowned. She reached again, trying to grasp at anything, feel anything. It was as if she hadn’t taken the drug at all. Winter felt the high inside of her, but outside, where she normally felt the crackle of raw energy and leashed power, she felt nothing. She reached again and again, trying to use multiple
tendra
, railing against whatever force stifled her, but nothing happened.

Winter was completely powerless.

* * *

Knot froze when the sword touched his neck. How had he not seen these men? They belonged to the same group that’d attacked during the wedding, that much was certain. The green robes and the way they carried themselves were enough to know that.

The others around Knot seemed to have frozen in place as well. Even Astrid was still. The sun still shone brightly, and one wrong move on her part would be disastrous.

The man who held a sword at Knot’s neck spoke with a Rodenese accent, his words harsh and clipped. “Our creation has finally returned to us,” he said from beneath his hood. “Took you long enough.”

Knot thought quickly. His own sword was sheathed on his back; it’d be impossible to reach without getting one in the belly. His pack would be a burden as well; he’d need to slip out of it when the fighting started.

“You do not recognize me?” the man asked, drawing back his hood. The man smiled broadly, his light eyes wide. His long blond hair was tied back, loose strands falling in front of his face and down his shoulders. “We spent so much time together, you and I,” he said, almost fondly. “You truly have no recollection?”

“What’re you talking about?” Knot asked. The man’s face meant nothing to him, but he’d come to Roden to confront his past. Perhaps it was happening sooner than he’d anticipated.

The man laughed. “Call me Tokal, please,” he said. He lowered the sword. “Tiring, holding a sword out so long. I admit, I’m not sure what name you use these days. Who exactly do you think you are?”

Knot frowned. The man handled the sword casually, but Knot knew an act when he saw one. The man knew how to use the weapon.

“Knot,” Knot said. “Call me Knot. Already know who I was, before. Lathe. An agent of the Nazaniin. But I don’t remember anyone named Tokal.”

“
The
Tokal, my good man. It’s a title, not a name.” The man’s eyebrows rose. “And Lathe… yes, very good. Very good indeed. Do you know who else you were, ah, before?”

The only other name Knot knew was Madzin, but he’d assumed it was just an alias Lathe had used in Navone. He wouldn’t reveal it. Best to see what this man was up to.

“Oh, delightful,” the Tokal said. Knot almost expected him to clap his hands. “You’ve no idea what you are, you beautiful fool. You are correct about this Lathe. And yet, you are not. Lathe died more than a year ago, I’m afraid. You may contain parts of him, but you are not him. He is a piece of the puzzle. You are something far more… manufactured. An experiment. A conglomeration of souls crammed together. A creation of science and magic is what you are, my dear Knot.”

It didn’t make sense. A creation of science and magic? What in Oblivion was he talking about?

“What do you want from me?” Knot asked.

“Same thing we’ve wanted since we first discovered you in that town. We want
you
.” The Tokal glanced at Winter. “Of course, priorities change. The tiellan is far more important than you are at this point.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Take them.”

And there was Knot’s opening. It was just a glance, but it was enough for Knot to whip his staff up towards the Tokal’s face.

The man parried easily with his sword.

“You are used to fighting men,” the Tokal said with a smile. “I am something altogether different.”

Then everything erupted into chaos.

* * *

Winter watched Knot’s pack fall to the earth as he slithered out of the straps and around the man’s blade, his staff a blur. Everything was eerily silent, just for a fraction of a second. Then there was shouting and clanging weapons and guttural grunts.

Winter looked around wildly, unsure of what to do. She reached out with her
tendra
once more, but still nothing happened. She gripped her dagger so tightly her hand began to hurt. She heard a loud crack to her left and turned just in time to see Lian fall to the ground, a green-cloaked man standing over him, staff in hand. Winter rushed the man with a shout, but the man parried her clumsy attack and knocked her to the ground. The snow was cold on her bare face and hands, biting into her flesh.

Winter looked around in horror. Whatever green-robed men had been after them before, these ones seemed twice as dangerous. They wore no armor underneath their robes, they moved too quickly for that. Even Knot seemed to be struggling to defend himself against the Tokal and another man who was wielding a long, flexible staff. The three danced around each other, weapons blurred. Winter rose to her hands and knees. She wanted to help Knot with the dagger still gripped tightly in her fist, but she didn’t know what to do. She felt frozen, half-afraid she would strike Knot by accident. She tried again, in vain, to reach a
tendron
out to something, anything. Nothing.

She could
feel
the power within her, knew it was there, but she couldn’t access it. Perhaps the frost she’d bought from the old woman in Navone was off, somehow. Some of the crystals might be duds. Maybe she’d taken one of Knot’s, and they weren’t what she thought at all. Or, perhaps, her powers had left her.

Whatever the reason, Winter was helpless once again.

There was a shout to her left, and she saw Kovac beside her, fending off one of the attackers who wielded a thin, club-like weapon. Cinzia snuck up behind the man, carrying what looked like Jane’s massive pack. With a heave the priestess swung the pack down on the robed man’s head, and he fell to his knees. Kovac’s sword took the attacker through the chest.

What in the Sfaera is in that pack?
Winter wondered, with just a glimmer of respect for the priestess.

Winter stood in time to see Astrid sprint past, heading straight for two more robed men. Lian was still on the ground, not moving. One of the robed men stood over him, reaching into his robe. Winter raised her dagger and rushed forward.

Behind her someone shouted, and the man standing over Lian turned at the sound. He turned right into Winter’s dagger. She pushed forward with all her weight, pushing the blade into the man’s belly. He fell to the ground.

Before she could react, before she could even pull her dagger away, someone grabbed her from behind. She screamed, slammed her elbow back into the man’s ribs, felt a grunt of hot breath in her ear. She elbowed him again with all her strength, but this time the man must have leaned away. She slammed her heel down on where she thought the man’s foot would be, but only connected with churned snow and mud. A sweaty hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.

Winter’s eyes darted for anything she could do or use against her captor. She couldn’t see Astrid. Knot still fought the two men, his staff whirling. She attempted another muffled scream, all the while trying to reach out with all of her
tendra
, but each failed attempt drained her of what little hope remained. She tripped as the man dragged her backwards, her feet trailing, making ridges in the slush. Winter kicked, screaming into the hand clamped over her mouth, but breathing was increasingly difficult, let alone shouting.

She heard a cry in the distance, as she was dragged away, followed by a splash, something heavy falling into the river. She felt a wave of panic. Had Knot fallen? The river was fast and freezing. If he couldn’t get out quickly, he would not survive.

With the splash, something seemed to change in the air. Like a flock of birds that suddenly change course at a sign of danger, the robed men stopped fighting and retreated into the forest, taking Winter with them.

* * *

The initial shock of the freezing river chilled Knot’s body. He swallowed a mouthful of gritty water and came up again, spluttering.

He had to get to land.

He thrashed as he was swept along, the riverbanks a blur of green, white, and gray. His muscles strained as he tried to swim east—the west bank was steep, it was unlikely he’d be able to climb it. But the current disoriented him. At this point, any bank would do. He couldn’t stay in this water long. He had only a few moments before his muscles cramped up and his body shut down.

His left calf tightened, the muscle forming a painful knot beneath his skin. The cold, once shocking, was now more of a dull ache.

Then, Knot remembered.

A ship at night, the air cold, the waters black and violent. Knot was there, in his own mind, just like one of his dreams. He was there, but only to observe.

A room, darkly lit by a single candle in the corner. No windows, no furniture except a table in the center of the room. His stomach twisted as he looked at the table, remembering what’d happened there. Dried blood encrusted the table and floor. Blood on his hands, too. Not his own. He glimpsed several dark shapes in the corner before leaving the room.

Outside, the ship’s boards quaked beneath his feet, snow and salt water stung his eyes. Shouts behind him, but he didn’t look back. He ran the other way, bare feet padding down the wet boards of the deck. He could smell the salt on the air.

Someone stepped out in front of him. A green robe. He dodged the man’s grasp, reaching for the man’s head with both hands and twisting. The man fell to the deck, limp.

More shouts behind him, and he felt a sudden pain in the back of his leg. A crossbow bolt protruded from his calf.

He looked back up just in time to see two more green-robed men rushing him. He lashed out at one, but the other—they were
fast
—grabbed his arm, holding him against the railing.