7

SEVEN: Unexpected Encounters

Alek gestured with the end of his gun. “Step back now,” he said.

I’d never had a gun pointed at me before, and I quickly found I didn’t like it very much. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?” I asked. I was scared and angry, which gave me enough gumption to find my voice. I stepped over Kale and turned to one side, hiding my knife behind me. The gravel crunched under my feet, sounding unnaturally loud in my ears.

The man clicked his tongue at me while shaking his head. I got a good, long look at his eyes and only now realized that I should’ve recognized Alek immediately: I’d seen him atop his horse next to Yenda Avard, the leader of her murderous band of rogues. I remembered his hard, cold eyes on that day, now that I saw them staring back at me again.

“Don’t play cute, yokel,” he answered, again motioning with his pistol, urging me to one side. “Try to pull out that pig-sticker and I’ll give you a lead corset.”

Lev was watching but not speaking. He kept looking me in the eyes and then away again; he also kept licking his lips, which struck me as a nervous sort of gesture. “A-Alek—”

“Shut up, Lev,” Alek answered, keeping both eyes and gun locked on me.

I didn’t remove my hand from my knife. Instead, I took a step closer, feeling something between bravery and a wild hysteria bubbling in my gut. “I should’ve expected Avardi soldiers would threaten to shoot a woman in cold blood,” I said. “But you know all about that sort of thing, don’t you?”

Alek didn’t seem to understand my hinting. “Get both hands where I can see them.”

“Why?” I said, daring to take another step. “Am I frightening you? Big man needs his big gun to make the fight fair?”

The man narrowed his eyes. The intensity of Alek’s gaze was twice as predatory and hungry as our first meeting, and now it felt…different to me. He looked weirdly intense, like a raptor eyeing a piece of raw flesh. “Shut your mouth, woman,” he growled, taking a step closer. He sounded strained, like he was fighting a losing battle against his own temper.

I fought to keep my breathing calm, which was a tall order while staring down the barrel of a loaded revolver—if I pushed him too far, he very well might pull the trigger. But I didn’t have time to be cautious: if these men managed to detain me, I’d spend what few days I had left alive inside of a cell. More so, I still felt so incensed at what these men had done that I found it hard to care about my own safety. “Maybe you should come over here and shut it for me,” I told him, narrowing my eyes while squeezing the hilt of my knife even tighter.

Lev’s eyes jumped back and forth while still licking his lips, shifting on both feet like a child watching two adults ready to come to blows. Alek’s eyes flared and he took a step towards me, raising his gun as if he intended to strike me with it. “I’ll show you when to talk back to me, bitch!”

“Alek!” Kale shouted at the other man to get his attention, sounding a little angry himself. When Alek looked over at him, I dared a split-second glance over one shoulder: the red-haired Avardi was already standing, clutching his forearm; the sleeve of his silver coat was stained with blood. “Put the gun away!”

“Shut up, Isrodel,” Alek ordered. “When I’m ready to take orders from you, you’ll know it.”

“What are you doing, you idiot?” Kale countered, stepping closer. He didn’t sway as he walked, not as much as I would’ve expected, given how much he’d had to drink. “Do you know the sentence for pulling a gun on a woman in this town? They’ll chop you into pieces, pour what’s left of you into some kind of box, lock that box in a bigger box, and throw away anything resembling a key for it until moss grows over you.”

“Looks like she did a number on you,” Alek countered. “I’d call it a case of righteous self-defense. No Magistrate in her right mind would vote to convict me.”

“You going to do ‘a number’ on me too, Alek?” I said. “Would that make you feel more like a man?”

In spite of preparing myself for it, Alek was faster than I expected when he struck me with his empty hand—the man’s swing was high and fast, catching me hard across the mouth. The blow set my head ringing and a flash of heat and blood shot across my tongue; it took effort to fight off the pain, to not cry out. “Shut up!” he shouted, finally reaching the end of his patience.

I glared up into his wicked, wild eyes and felt my lip split as I showed off a long, hungry smile. “You going to kiss me with that mouth, too?” I said. Even as I spoke, I felt a curious, tingling sensation like sticking my hand into a live anthill. The painful line of fire I’d just torn open to grin at him was knitting itself closed, as if it’d never existed at all.

Deathbringer’s boon. I’d forgotten about it. I grinned even wider, felt no pain at all that time.

Alek’s eyes went wide in shock, and probably a bit of fear to go with it. “What are you?” he said, taking a step backwards.

I followed him. “What’s wrong? Or are you just on-edge after murdering a whole farmstead on Yenda Avard’s orders?”

“You!” Lev pointed at me, his hand shaking, eyes wide. “You’re that girl the First Daughter was talking about! The one at that wedding—!” The look I gave Lev was so venomous and filled with hate that he audibly choked and went silent.

I could almost feel the heat of Alek’s stare burning into me. Or perhaps that was my own temper—just standing next to the man made me want to burst into flames. He saw something in my eyes, something he didn’t like; he raised his gun higher, showing a forced smile. “Maybe she is, at that,” he said. “Looks like Isrodel can’t even kill someone properly. Guess I’ll have to make sure the job’s finished this time.” He pulled the hammer back on his revolver; the sound of the heavy ‘click’ would’ve made my heart stutter if it was still beating.

“Alek, man, just…just let her go,” Kale said, still clutching his injured arm. “It’s not worth it. Nothing about Yenda Avard is worth it, believe me.”

“As if you care about what anything’s worth,” Alek said with a snort. “First Daughter said she’s paying triple what any of us makes in a year if we bag this one.” He jabbed the tip of his gun into my breast. “What is wrong with you, Isrodel? Didn’t she just stab you? Or were you too drunk to notice?”

“Alek, I could drink every drop of liquor from here to the Alami Desert and back and I still couldn’t be drunk enough to want a brass ring of Yenda Avard’s money.”

“Well, we can’t all be Isrodels now, can we, rich boy?” Alek said, voice dripping with sarcasm. To my ears, that question felt as loaded as the gun he kept waving in my face. “Some of us have to actually make our own way in this world,” he continued, fixing me with those dark, angry eyes. “And now, I’m going to get my share.”

I felt afraid, but fear wasn’t going to save my life—I had to focus that fear, separate myself from it, force myself to function in spite of it. I was outnumbered and out-gunned, but I wasn’t completely helpless. For years, my mother drilled me, taught me, conditioned me. Whether there were multiple centimeters of snow on the ground or the sun was so hot that my own skin felt ready to melt off my bones, Mother expected me to train: running, grappling, fencing, brawling and more. I’d broken one of my arms and the other wrist once before, and sprained both of my ankles in a single summer, and each time she only worked me harder once I healed.

I held Alek’s eyes for a moment, then played the oldest trick I knew: making a show a surprise as I looked over his shoulder. The ploy worked, and when he started to turn, I grabbed his gun hand in one of mine, pushing it up high. As expected, his trigger finger pulled in surprise, and the pistol’s shot went harmlessly skyward even as the rapport deafened me for a moment, ringing in my ears. In the periphery of my vision, I saw Kale duck his head, covering it with both hands.

Alek’s mouth formed some oath I couldn’t hear. He reached for his saber with his empty hand, even while the one with the gun fought against mine. He squeezed the trigger a second time, a second sound-shattering bang of a noise. But I’d been holding my knife the entire time in my other hand, and pulled it out in a fast slicing motion, aiming high and across his chest. His coat was thick but unbuttoned and I saw blood, smelled its copper tang as he cried out and stumbled back, trying to shake me loose.

As my hearing started to come back, I heard boots crunching underfoot, the sound of men shouting—Kale and Lev were arguing, maybe even coming to blows themselves. I didn’t have time to trouble with either of them; I could hear the high-pitched ring of Alek’s saber clearing its sheath, and then the fighting really started.

Knife fighting isn’t like using a sword—the dimensions are all different. I had to get close to my enemy and stay there; instead of keeping my distance and looking for an opening, I had to make one for myself. I’d watched when some of the farmers would play a game they called “bull beating” after some were too deep into their drink. Clasping one of their hands with the other’s, they’d then take turns slugging each other until one participant either gave up or was knocked unconscious. I’d never played such games, but now I was facing off against my very own bull, and he had murder in his eyes.

It was all the more awkward by the both of us still fighting over his gun: I felt his hand twitch before the weapon went off again, sounding off a deafening bell in my head. When he swung his saber towards me, metal scored on metal as I deflected his strike. Alek was taller and stronger than I was and I felt my arm hum just from the force of one swing. I deflected a second strike high and away, watching the struggle on his face, seeing anger and surprise in his eyes when I didn’t flinch or fall back like he wanted. He tried to push me down with a sudden show of force, so I gave way and brought my knee up hard into his gut; the sound of his grunt and a hard cough made me want to smirk with satisfaction. As Alek pulled away, trying to put some distance between us, I moved right after him. He stumbled and made a clumsy thrust, giving me enough time to push his blade down and away with the edge of my knife. There was an off-key shriek as the sharp edge of his sword slid most of its length across the small guard-piece protecting my fingers.

If I gave him enough time, Alek was going to either run me through or put a bullet in me. I had to end this while I still had a chance. I turned the blade in my grip, thrusting the toughened steel upwards into his torso, turning the blade at the last second to slide between his ribs. At the same time, I aimed a hard kick towards the inside of his knee and heard something pop with a sound that set my teeth on-edge. My thrust missed his lungs: Alek screamed, pulling back instinctively, staggering when his injured knee failed to hold up his own weight. I fell on top of him, staring right into his eyes as I landed on his chest and thrust my knife under his jaw, felt it snap the brittle bone at the top of his mouth and flash behind his eyes as it penetrated his brain.

Alek never said a word. All he could do was give a muffled sound of pain which turned into shallow, startled breaths as he searched my face—I saw confusion, anger, and fear shine in his eyes as he grasped at my wrists, trying to dislodge the blade I’d skewered him with. Blood and froth bubbled from between his lips but the muscles of his jaw were too weak to dislodge the length of steel I’d used to cinch his mouth shut for good. It seemed to me that he was still in shock, unable to believe how his fortunes had turned so quickly.

As I watched him die, I felt myself enjoying it. I felt fresh and renewed, filled with vigor after watching the life flicker and die in a man’s eyes. Then came a wild rush of cold that froze the sweat on my skin and the blood in my body. Something was happening, even if I didn’t know what it was or what to call it. Pyotr’s death had taken me by surprise, but this man’s death was my own doing; I’d snuffed out his life like a clenched fist on a candle’s flame. I could feel the life leaving his body, like smoke slithering in-between my fingers—somewhere in my mind I noted a flicker of golden light and felt it go out as a final rattling sound crawled out from between Alek’s bloody teeth. My own blood inside me was burning, like I was about to burst into flames. Power was inside me, such an energy that I felt my skin bursting from the inside out.

“Alek!” I heard Lev cry out, alarmed by the sight of his friend’s distress. I looked away from the face of the dead man under me and saw that Kale was on the ground at Lev’s feet, dazed or otherwise defenseless for the moment. Not that I could trust that Kale was on my side—I certainly wasn’t on his.

I saw Lev raise his gun, pointing it at me. I could hardly breathe, as though someone had wrapped my chest in bands of iron and was squeezing the life from me. But fear was a powerful motivator, enough that I found the energy to throw myself off of Alek’s body and roll away as Lev fired his gun; I heard the zip of the bullet pass over me like an angry hornet.

“Stop!” I shouted—a single word, all I could manage, but I felt power in the sound of it. The yellow flash burst and blinded me; in the back of my mind, it became brighter.

The energy, the life, the essence within Alek—I wasn’t sure what to call it—was back, but now it was mine. The dead soldier moved without having to be told, and simply did what I wanted as quick as I could will it into thought. He turned in the dirt, picked up his sword, pushed to his feet and lunged at Lev, all in one smooth motion. The collar and front of his blue coat and silver shirt was stained with his own blood, still oozing out of his knife wound. A crimson slick stretched down his bare neck, while more blood dripped from the hilt stuck under his chin.

“Alek! No!” Lev shouted his friend’s name again, but now it was a panicked, frightened cry. I didn’t want the men to have a chance to fight, I wanted it to be done quickly. As if sensing those desires, Alek crouched down and barreled into his friend, knocking him to the ground. Lev fell over backwards, giving a scream that seemed too pained and high-pitched to come from a man’s throat; I saw a crimson mess starting to bloom across the front of Lev’s trousers. A pungent stink stung in my nostrils—either Alek’s clumsy strike had nicked Lev’s bladder, or he’d released it in his momentary panic.

What happened next was as quick as it was brutal, as Alek raised his blade high and brought it down again, and again, and again, turning his subordinate into a mess of blood and rent flesh. As Lev looked up, his eyes wide, as though begging his friend to explain his final treachery, I felt Lev’s light leave him. I wasn’t overly familiar with death, certainly not from up-close, and any other time I probably would’ve fallen to both knees and emptied my stomach into the grass. Instead, I watched with cold, detached curiosity as Alek left his sword in Lev’s guts and turned to face me, as if waiting for my next command. His eyes were black, empty—just like Pyotr’s had been.

Without knowing how, I knew that he would do whatever I told him, without exception or question. Alek had no resistance now, no breath for questions—all he knew now was obedience. I could’ve commanded him to pick a direction and start running, and he wouldn’t stop until the physical muscle and sinew fell or melted off of his bones. If I told him to dig a grave, Alek wouldn’t stop digging until the earth collapsed on top of him.

“Just die already,” I told him, my teeth clenched. After his eyes closed and he collapsed atop the body of his dead friend, I felt the light leave him.

So…why didn’t I finish Kale off, as well? He was still senseless in the dirt, completely unaware of what I’d just done to his comrades. All it would’ve taken was one well-aimed bullet, one twist of a blade, and I’d be one step closer to the vengeance that I craved. But I didn’t. Both of the dead men had attacked me first—I had a clear claim of self-defense against them. Kale had actually tried to protect me, admittedly with less-than-stellar results. And whatever the case, none of these men were Yenda Avard. They weren’t the one I wanted. They might’ve held the swords, fired the guns, followed the orders, but she was the one responsible. She was the one I wanted. She was who I had to find.

Throwing one quick glance towards the Twin Moons and the street, I didn’t see anyone watching—no one had seen the fight, so it was my word against a pair of warm corpses. My mind was a blur of thought and confusion, but I was sure of one thing: I had to get away—far, far away. My testimony might stand up in court, but these men had been Avardi soldiers and I was a stranger in this town. I didn’t have anywhere else to stay, night was coming on, and I was all alone. My window of opportunity was closing fast, and I had to figure out how to open it again.

In the distance, I heard a long, mournful whistling sound, the same noise I’d heard when Ira and I first rode into town. I’d never seen a train before, but I had heard about them, and right then I was willing to go just about anywhere if it took me away from Svolyn.

I picked up both guns, checked the bullets in each: four spent rounds in Alek’s gun, two in Lev’s. I quickly filled the remaining ammunition into one of the revolvers, snapped the cylinder closed and stuck it into my belt. Next, I rolled Alek’s body over and set one foot against his unmoving chest. I yanked my knife out and managed to avoid getting much blood on my boots or the hem of my trousers, quickly cleaned the blade on his coat and put it away. Then I reached down to shake Kale by the collar. “You. Get up.”

At first I thought he was unconscious, but he gave a start and a slurred something that I couldn’t decipher.

“I said get up,” I repeated, pulling at his collar while twisting my wrist. He started to choke and found the strength to push up on one hand, giving a foul-sounding cough as he did so. “You’re coming with me.”

Kale turned his head to look up at me. For a second I saw confusion, then he blinked and seemed to remember where he was. “Are…” He coughed again. “Are you alright?” he asked me as he pushed to his feet. I saw a line of blood under one of his nostrils; there was a red swell around one of his eyes which was likely to bruise later. He then saw the two men on the ground in pools of their own blood and I saw his eyes widen. “Saints alive—”

I pulled out my new gun. “I’m fine,” I said, cutting him off. “You, on the other hand, might not be if you don’t do what I tell you.”

Kale backed up a step, hands raised. “Stop,” he said. “Wait. You want to get out of Svolyn, don’t you?”

“Lucky guess. What gave it away?”

“I can help you.” He seemed to trip over the words, like he couldn’t say them fast enough. “Let me help.”

“Of course you’re going to help me, you idiot,” I said, resisting the urge to smack him. I motioned towards the road. “Let’s go.”

Kale took one last glance at Alek and Lev, then took my arm. “Follow me,” he said. It was so unexpected that I went along without resisting for a moment, hardly able to believe it myself.

In the distance, the train’s howl called out again: either a beckoning, or a warning.

KALE

“What do you mean, you want to leave?” As she looked up from her book, Yenda’s voice was soft, even amused, as if she didn’t believe what she was hearing—had anyone else asked the question, Kale would’ve expected it to come with a harsh, angry tone.

It wasn’t the first time Kale had been in Yenda’s private chamber, but it was the first time he’d come into it of his own free will. After swallowing past an unwelcome lump in his throat, Kale took a breath, ignoring the way his heart was swelling in his chest. “I want to leave,” he repeated, fighting to keep his breathing slow and his mind focused. It wouldn’t help a thing to give into his emotions—that was part of the reason he was in this mess to begin with. “Whitehold—I want to leave Whitehold. For a little while.”

Yenda reminded him of a hooded serpent: every movement and mannerism was deliberate, right down to the faintest twitch of an eyelid or the flash of a tooth. “Does this have anything to do with your sudden interest in going into the army?” As she straightened in her seat and closed her book, Kale resisted the urge to step back or to flinch. He forced himself to stand still, steady as a rock wall while facing her down, even though she could turn to a raging thunderstorm in moments. “You want to join the militia now? I was told you were asking about it, about shipping out to the northern frontier.”

“My father was in the militia.”

“Yes, I know.” Yenda fixed Kale with the full force of her long, unblinking stare. “You also said once… How did you put it?” She pursed her lips, tapping them with a fingertip. “That you’d rather ‘sit on a wine bottle and spin in circles’ than serve in the militia.’”

“Ah, yes, I did.” Kale cleared his throat. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“May I ask why?” Yenda folded both hands in her lap and kept that full stare trained on him, her face a passive mask of pent-up emotions, but her eyes were as intense as ever. She was looking for an excuse, something to react to.

“After our nuptials, I expect that things for me will change a great deal.” Kale took a breath and squared his shoulders, hoping he didn’t sound like he’d been rehearsing what to say for days. “I’m…also sure there’ll be some expectations put on me, as well: Ruslan joined at your mother’s insistence, so I’m sure she’ll demand the same of me.” He gave a little smile and spread his hands. “Doing it this way just gets me out in front of things, as it were.”

Yenda narrowed those penetrating eyes of Avardi blue. She tilted her head slightly, suspicious of his words and demeanor. “This is very unlike you, Kale. You’ve been inconsolable for weeks—morose, depressed…you hardly come to visit my bedchamber anymore. Now you’re smiling while talking about going into the army. What’s the catch?” Her eyes shifted back and forth, as if expecting some unexpected surprise.

“Does there have to be a catch?”

“Yes,” she answered, eyes narrowing further. “There’s always a catch, Kale. Always.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Kale was the first to flinch, as he let his shoulders sink a bit. “I just…want to get away. For a little while. A little more time to myself, a little more time on my own before…before the wedding day.”

Her face never changed, but Kale saw a look in her eyes, hitting him like a reverberating thunderclap. “If I find out that there’s someone else—”

“No!” It took all of Kale’s self-control not to back up a step; when Yenda Avard got the look, he’d seen it make lesser men shudder. He’d never reacted that way—not yet, at least. “I know how this game is played, Yenda: I’m a man, not stupid. I haven’t found anyone else, and I’m not looking for anyone. Just give me some time away—far away.” He took another breath. “Six months at most, that’s all I ask.”

She stood up from her seat and walked towards him—black hair and dark intensity, the sort of woman that a man might kill to have, or kill himself if he ever lost her. Yenda walked right up to him, looking him in the eye—personal space wasn’t a phrase in her vocabulary. “And then no more moping? No more skulking around like a frost-brained laggard enjoying your own private pity-party? This marriage is going to work, Kale, whether I have you on my arm or chained to my bed.” She gave him a long stare from under her dark eyebrows, followed by a gentle flick of his nose. “Are we clear?”

Kale sniffed. “As ice.”

Yenda gave him a small, perfunctory smile. “Good boy.” She seemed to consider something for a moment, then turned and waved a hand, returning to her seat. “Fine. Go off, have your little adventure. When I have a need for you—and I will—rest assured that I intend to call on you, and I expect you to obey me to the letter. Are we clear on that, Kale?”

He nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. “Clear enough.” He was quite sure she said something else, but Kale couldn’t quite recall what it was; everything turned to fuzz in his ears. Her smile haunted him, however: so self-assured, so certain of herself and that he would do exactly what was expected of him.

And however much he hated to admit it, Kale knew he would, too.