City of Keys, page 45
Was he enjoying it?
Alexei had turned away, choking on bile through the gag. Rademacher grunted in disgust.
“Who is soft now?” he muttered. “Put him back in with the rest.”
That was hours ago, but Alexei could still hear his brother’s screams as they’d hauled him out.
Whispers crossed the camp like a soft breeze. One man or woman to the next, and the next. It would begin when the knight from Nantwich rose to his feet.
His name was Miles Rycroft.
Marked by Clavis herself. He claimed he felt fine. That meant the Reverend Mother was still alive somewhere in the Morho. Alexei believed it. He, too, wore Clavis’s Mark. If they found her, she could lead the resistance. Rally the last loyal knights.
White hounds circled the perimeter, sometimes lunging to snap at a prisoner. Their Kven guards were dark silhouettes in the rain, riding up and down on shadowy Marksteeds. More manned the gates with swords and crossbows. But if they could just break through a single exit, a few might make it out. More than a few, Alexei hoped, though they were all weak.
Rycroft flexed his gloved fingers. “Virtus, veritas, lux,” he muttered, thighs tensing to stand.
Blinding light. Alexei threw an arm across his face. In his exhausted delirium, his first thought was that they were all working the ley. The pure ley that Willem Danziger had spoken of.
Then Rycroft swore and he realized that it was the stadium arc lights.
The squalid scene burst into stark illumination. Hundreds of thin, muddy prisoners, cringing under the floodlights, and a company of Kvens riding out from one of the tunnels, Rademacher at their head. He galloped up and slid from the saddle.
“We grow bored,” he declared. “It’s time for some entertainment.”
Two knights dismounted and dragged Alexei to his feet. Others used the dogs to clear a space in the midst of the prisoners. Rademacher’s glittering gaze swept the prisoners.
“Saints, but you’re a sorry bunch,” he said. “Come now! Surely one of you has some spirit left.”
His gaze skipped over Patryk Spassov, then bounced back. “You.”
Rademacher pointed. Spassov got to his feet, expressionless.
The kommandant looked around at his knights. “We will have some sport,” he said, rubbing his gloved hands together. “Fewer mouths to feed at the end, ja?”
Some of the men laughed, but others glanced at each other, uneasy. They were the same ones he’d seen distributing blankets to the eldest members of the clergy.
“Feed?” Spassov said slowly. “You’ve starved us, you son of a goat!”
Alexei expected the kommandant to erupt, but his good mood seemed unshakeable. “I sense discontent,” he said. “Well, the victor will be rewarded with a hot dinner. How does that sound, eh?”
When neither of them reacted, he shrugged. “Or not. I don’t really care.” His voice hardened. “But you will give us sport or I will feed the others to the dogs, one by one, understand? Now, fight!” Spittle flew from his lips, though he still wore the rictus of a smile. “To the death!”
His rage was palpable, but the Wolf Mark on Rademacher’s neck didn’t change. Not a hint of ley, blue or otherwise. Alexei looked around at the Kvens. Most looked normal. But a few . . . he recognized the signs. The furtive, jerking glances.
Alexei started to laugh. It was all too perfect.
Rademacher watched him in astonishment. Even Patryk looked uneasy, as if he feared Alexei had finally snapped. But Spassov hadn’t been through it himself.
“Are you seeing spiders yet?” Alexei wondered. “Crawling out of my mouth, perhaps?”
“This man is a lunatic,” Rademacher declared. He looked around, a bit frantic now. “Someone else—”
“You don’t know, do you?” He raised his voice so they’d all hear him over the driving rain. “Luk is dead!”
Rademacher bared his teeth. “Liar!”
“You’re starting to feel it now, aren’t you? The ley boiling in your blood. Trust me, it’ll get worse.” Alexei saw the flicker of doubt. The fear. It delighted him no end. “You were always vicious and cruel, kommandant. Congratulations! You’re now clinically insane, too.”
“Carry out the new orders!” Rademacher screamed. “Kill them! Kill them all!” He stumbled toward his horse.
Rycroft shot to his feet. “Now!” he yelled, tearing off a glove.
The dogs went mad. Screams sliced the night as they threw themselves at the prisoners. A ripple of panic coursed through the crowd. Everywhere, men and women rose on weary, trembling legs. They ran for the exits, pursued by knights on horseback. Shouted commands echoed around the perimeter.
Alexei reached Natalya just as a hound sank its jaws into her calf. Spassov threw his arms around its barrel chest. The dog twisted, fangs snapping shut a centimeter from his ear. Then Alexei had it by the head. He gazed into the flat pink eyes. A hard twist and the dog went limp.
“Can you walk?” he cried over the din.
There was no time to check the wound, though he could see her pant leg was bloodied.
Natalya winced, leaning heavily on Patryk. “I can stagger,” she said through gritted teeth. “Go! Find your brother.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She tested the foot, then started off at a lumbering run, the bright lights trailing a long shadow behind her.
The floodlights. They were giving the archers perfect targets. Dozens of bodies sprawled on the ground with black-fletched arrows jutting from their backs and chests. Other prisoners writhed helplessly, hamstrung, as the mounted knights bore down on them. As Alexei feared, it was turning into a massacre.
“Get her out,” Alexei said to Spassov. “I’ll find you!”
Patryk wordlessly clasped his arm, then took off after Natalya.
Alexei sank to the muddy, torn-up turf. He yanked a glove off and drew ley deep into his Marks. Nineteen now. Would it be enough?
He poured all his desperate need into a single plea.
Blind them.
His Marks flared bright. The liminal rose up, riding a wave of turbulent abyssal ley. With an explosive shatter of glass, the arc lights blew out. Darkness descended.
Alexei was already on his feet, running for the tunnel they’d brought him through before. He tripped over a body and sprawled to the ground. Blood flooded his mouth. Adrenaline drove him to his feet again.
He caught a glimpse of Miles Rycroft, kicking a guard in the chest and taking his sword. A knot of soldiers swarmed over. Rycroft spun to face them and was swallowed from view.
The tunnel yawned before him.
As Alexei drew near, he heard new sounds in the darkness. Howls and snarls and frantic barking. He turned back to the darkened stadium. A single bulb, high above the bleachers, had survived the burst of ley. In its weak glow, he saw shadows darting among the mounted knights. One of the horses whinnied, then went down. The prisoners took advantage of the confusion to overwhelm the guards at one of the gates and swarm through. The white dogs were in a frenzy. They seemed to be battling invisible foes.
There was no time to watch the fight. He ran down the tunnel, then climbed the stairs two at a time. He burst into the skybox.
Rademacher was waiting with a crossbow. He aimed it at Alexei’s chest.
Alexei raised his palms. Misha lay on the floor. A dirty rag was stuffed into his mouth. His hands were tied behind his back. They’d stripped his shirt off. Alexei flooded with relief when he saw his brother’s chest still rose and fell.
“I knew you would come for him,” Rademacher hissed. Madness glittered in his eyes. “But . . . you’re not human! What is wrong with your face?”
Alexei watched him cautiously. “It’s the sickness. You’re starting to hallucinate.”
“No! You’re a . . . monster.” He licked his lips. “You want to kill me. To eat me like the Perditae. You are one of them. You served in the Void too long. It has taken you—”
“Listen to me.” He took a step forward. “You are not well, Kommandant.”
Whether Rademacher had ever been entirely sane was questionable. Now, the man had taken a swan dive off the cliff. The poison would kill him in time.
But not soon enough.
Rademacher tilted his head as though listening. He muttered to himself in Kven. Alexei caught most of it.
“Ja, I see it now. They are all Perditae. And I must stop them. I am the only one who can.”
Calm settled over his features as he adjusted the sights. Alexei tensed as Rademacher’s finger tightened on the release mechanism.
A blurred streak erupted from the shadows, hitting the kommandant square in the chest. The bolt whizzed past Alexei’s shoulder. Rademacher tumbled backwards. He gave a keening scream as Alice sank her jaws into his throat. She tore savagely, head swinging from side to side. His heels drummed for a minute, then fell still.
Alexei sank down, tears dampening his eyes. “I am well, little sister.” He buried his fingers in her coat. “Never have I been so happy to see you.” He eyed her gory muzzle. “Just don’t lick me, eh?”
She barked and ran to Rademacher, sniffing. Then she lifted her leg and peed on his corpse.
Alexei thought of the vile collar the kommandant had tried to force around her neck when they met him on the road. Clearly, Alice hadn’t forgotten either.
Alexei tore the gag from his brother’s mouth. His flesh felt cold, the pulse weak. Alexei took a bloody knife from the table and sliced through Misha’s bonds. Then he pulled his own shirt off and grappled with his brother’s limp body, pulling his arms through the sleeves. It was a tight fit, but it would keep him warm.
And Alexei knew his brother wouldn’t want anyone seeing him like this.
Alice sat on her haunches, eyeing them both warily. She didn’t like Mikhail, but her master had chastened her often enough about showing it.
He was doing up the last buttons when she barked again, sharply, head whipping to the door. He grabbed the crossbow, which he’d kept close at hand.
“Your Grace,” he said in surprise.
“She found you. Thank the Saints.”
Morvana Ziegler strode into the skybox. Her cool gaze lit on Rademacher. “I am not sorry to see him gone. It seems we came just in time.” She moved to Alexei’s side and knelt down. “Captain Bryce saved my life. Perhaps just to save yours, but I am still grateful. How can I help him?”
Mikhail’s eyes opened at the sound of her voice. The pupils were hugely dilated. They must have given him more Sublimin. Bloodshot eyes found her face. He smiled faintly, then slipped away again.
“We must carry him,” Alexei said. “What’s happening out there?”
She glanced though the dark plate glass window. “I brought three packs of true Markhounds. They killed most of the others, though no doubt a few escaped. But the tide has turned in the stadium, at least. The guards fled.”
“How did you get out of the Arx?”
“The Nuncio released me. He was with a woman. Kasia Novak.”
Alexei’s gut flipped. “She’s unharmed?”
“Perfectly.” She looked thoughtful. “The mage changed his mind when he learned about what had been done to the children. They mean to kill Balaur.”
Alexei frowned. That didn’t sound like Malach. “And you believed him?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Balaur is coming to the Arx this very night. They sent me to rally whatever resistance I could.”
“Then we must go now!” He turned back to his brother, wondering how on earth he could bring Misha along. Alexei had broken a sweat just trying to get a shirt on him.
“If you agree, I will stay here with him,” Morvana said. “I think he cannot be moved. Even if he were not such a big man.”
“They tortured him with electricity. Drugged him, too.”
Her light brows knit together. “Saints,” she murmured. “It is a wonder he’s alive.”
“My brother is stronger than you can imagine.” Alexei pressed the crossbow into her hand. “Keep this. In case any of the guards show up. Or the white dogs.”
She stared at it for a moment. Then her fingers tightened around the grip. “I will defend us both,” she said heavily.
“Do you want Alice? I could make her stay.”
She cast a wry glance at the Markhound, who pressed tight against Alexei’s thigh. “I’m not so sure of that, Fra Bryce. I doubt she will let you out of her sight again. No, we will be fine. There are other hounds about.”
Alexei started for the door.
“And Bryce?”
He turned back.
“I came with two mage children. Dark-haired with green cloaks.” She shook her head with a grin. “They are hellions. I saw them fight knights twice their size and win. Try to find them. They will aid you.”
Alexei only nodded, beyond surprise at this point. The game board he knew had been upended. The Kvens were going mad. Clavis’s chief aide was allied with the Order of the Black Sun and the mages were now his friends. If the bishop who held his Marks wasn’t sitting right in front of him, he’d wonder if he were the one losing his mind.
“Thank you, Bishop Ziegler.”
She gave a tense smile. “It is Morvana, ja?”
Chapter Forty-One
Alexei jogged behind Alice, breath coming in sharp bursts. He was frozen to the bone and soaking wet. In the dark, storm-wracked night, it was hard to tell friend from foe. Sometimes he saw Kven knights loping through the streets like packs of wild dogs, attacking anything that moved. Because of the curfew, that invariably meant other Kven knights.
Sometimes he saw lone, shadowy figures that might have been his fellow prisoners.
Or not.
He feared to approach, hoping that Alice would pick up a familiar scent and lead him to Patryk and Natalya. But the mass insanity gripping the city seemed to muddle her senses. The hound warned him with low growls when sick knights came near, though she often paused to spin in circles, snapping at her own tail.
“I kn . . . know how you f-f-feel,” he whispered through chattering teeth. “It’s b-b-bloody chaos.”
He couldn’t make it much farther without something to block the cutting wind. Alexei was more than willing to break a store window, but the area was all residential. The Unmarked district, judging by the rundown brick towers and cracked sidewalks. He passed an empty, trash-strewn lot. Someone had painted WOLVES SOD OFF! in meter-high letters on the wooden fence.
Then he spotted a single candle burning in the second floor of a house down the block. It had a tiny front yard, with a rusted tricycle lying on its side in the weeds. Alexei staggered to the front door and pounded with a fist. No answer. He tried the knocker.
“Hello?” he shouted, squinting up into the icy rain. “Please, if someone’s in there . . . .” A deep shiver ran through him. “I’m a priest from Novostopol! Held prisoner at the stadium.” His lips could barely form the words. “I’m f-f-frozen.”
Alexei rested his forehead against the door.
No answer.
He could hardly blame them. He must look like another lunatic, half-naked and wild-eyed. Alexei didn’t regret giving his shirt to Mikhail. His brother needed it more than he did. And it kept Morvana from seeing the grotesque image on his brother’s chest. No one could know about that. Not until they fixed it.
But Saints, he’d never been so cold.
He was turning away when the bolt shot. A young woman opened the door a crack. She stared at him with a frightened expression, at the Marks covering his bare torso, then thrust a coat through the gap.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I can’t let you in. My children . . . .”
He gazed at her dumbly.
“Well, go on! Take it!”
Alexei took the coat. He opened his mouth to thank her but the door was already closing, the bolt sliding shut. The coat was gray wool with a thick collar, like the kind sailors wore. His fingers were too clumsy to manage the buttons so he pulled it tight and jammed his hands in the pockets.
He felt something inside the left one. Alexei drew out a pair of half-moon spectacles in tortoiseshell frames.
He regarded the glasses, brows cocked in puzzlement. In the pouring rain, with death and madness all around, they looked like an alien artifact. Something from another world where people sat by the hearth, a pot of tea at one elbow and a clock on the mantle ticking away the idle hours.
He carefully set the glasses on the doormat.
Then he put his head down and continued on.
Bodies littered the roundabout at Sherwood Park. All Kvens. He picked up a sword. Eyed the heavy Wolf cloaks, but decided not to take one. It could get him killed if he was mistaken for one of them.
It wasn’t long after that Alice gave an excited bark. She arrowed ahead. Alexei followed her glowing paw prints into the park. He saw Natalya waving her arms. Spassov’s bulk next to her, his stubbled face split in a wide grin. They were with dozens of the Nants, including Miles Rycroft, but also men and women in gray. Unmarked who’d come out of their homes to make a stand with the knights.
They embraced, clapping shoulders and laughing. Rycroft had dried blood on his face, but he was still standing.
“Did you see the other Markhounds?” he said, eying Alice fondly. “They saved our bacon. It was a bloody miracle!”
“Rademacher is dead,” Alexei said. “I found my brother. He’s with Bishop Ziegler.”
He briefly related what Morvana had told him.
“Thank the Saints Kasia is alive,” Natalya said slowly. “But Balaur is coming here? And she means to kill him?”
“I have faith in her,” he said. “But they’ll need our help. We must get to the Arx.”
Rycroft nodded and called together the motley band. “Oi!” he shouted. “We’re taking back the Arx! Who’s coming with us?”
Fifty voices raised in a shout. Most of them had swords taken from the Kvens. A few wielded homemade weapons.
They assembled and started for the Arx when two green-cloaked children ran up. A boy and a girl, dark-haired. One carried a bow, the other a long dagger.
