Brian Staveley - The Emperor's blades

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It wasn’t good territory for a breakout. The wind and cold had scoured everything from the notch but a few erratic boulders, scattered about like the remnants of some dilapidated tower. The Aedolian lanterns didn’t cast much light, but still, the moon was out. Valyn frowned. Whoever planned to cut them free had a good bit of open ground to cover, with only the treacherous shadows to shield them from prying eyes.

The good news was, Balendin, Adiv, and most of the remaining Aedolians had drifted to the eastern end of the notch, fifteen paces distant, staring out over the great gulf of night. There seemed to be some confusion over the signal fires, the ones intended to mark Kaden’s direction of flight. Balendin was arguing with Adiv while stabbing his finger alternately at the flames and the night-shrouded peaks beyond. The wind whipped their voices away before Valyn could make out more than scraps of words, but it seemed as though something had gone awry with their plan, a supposition that kindled in him a little bit of hope. Two men still guarded Valyn and his Wing, but they looked distracted, ill at ease, as though they wished they were with the others, comfortably within the compass of the lamplight. They carried swords sheathed at their sides, but it wouldn’t be too difficult for an experienced fighter to get close enough to fire a couple of shots, or, barring that, cut their throats.…

But Kaden’s not an experienced fighter, Valyn reminded himself grimly. Aedolians might not have presented any great threat to a Kettral Wing, but they were nonetheless accounted among the most capable soldiers in the world. Any mistake, and they’d raise the alarm, and once that happened, there wouldn’t be time to loose any of the captives. Valyn chafed at his helplessness. He had come to save his brother, and here he was, trussed like a yearling lamb. He had a dozen questions for Triste, but after Gwenna’s brief outburst and the girl’s whispered warnings, the two Aedolians had cuffed them all into silence. Just get us out, Kaden, he thought grimly. Just get us out, and I can take it from there .

He smelled his brother before he heard him: just the faintest whiff of sweat and goat wool off to the north. He twisted his head in time to see a shadow ghosting down the nearly sheer northern wall of the notch. It looked like a difficult climb even in daylight, but Kaden had spent half his life in these mountains. Maybe he’d learned more than painting and pottery. Valyn glanced over his shoulder, worried that the guards would catch sight of his brother, but they were oblivious. They can’t see, Valyn realized. They can’t see into the darkness the way I can .

Suddenly, a clatter of rockfall broke the silence on the eastern slope, over by Adiv and Balendin, a hundred paces from where Kaden finished his treacherous descent and started forward, flitting between the boulders like a ghost. The minister turned an ear to the darkness, his lips pursed in a slight frown.

“Eln, Tremmel,” he said, gesturing to a couple of soldiers. “Take a quick look down the eastern slope.”

“There’s no one there,” Balendin said, his voice calm, confident.

Adiv turned to face the leach, as though studying his face from behind that uncanny blindfold.

“How do you know that?”

The youth shrugged. “I’m on this Wing because I know things like that. Trust me. There’s no one there.”

He can feel the emotion, Valyn remembered with a sudden stab of fear. Talal had insisted that Balendin relied on emotion directed at him, but perhaps he could feel the residue of other feelings, too. There was no telling just what twisted well of power fed a creature like that, and if he could feel emotion, it meant he could feel Kaden. However brave Valyn’s brother had been in trying to stage a rescue, fear and excitement must be coursing through his body like poisoned wine. If Balendin caught even an eddy of that, the game was up.

Hurry, Kaden, Valyn prayed silently. Hurry .

The minister considered the youth a moment longer, then gestured to his men once more. “Check it anyway.”

The two guards watching the prisoners had drifted toward the rest of the group, curiosity sucking them a couple paces toward the light.

Now, Valyn thought. This is the time.

And then, as though summoned, a shadow broke away from the darkness. Valyn stared.

It had been eight years since he’d last seen his brother, since he and Kaden raced around the hallways and gardens of the Dawn Palace, playing at being Kettral. He recognized his brother instantly, their father’s jaw, their mother’s nose, the distinct line of his mouth, and yet the person standing before him was a boy no longer. He was lean almost to the point of gauntness, the bones of his cheeks, the thin striated muscles of his arms tight under sun-darkened skin. Kaden had grown taller, as well, a few inches taller than Valyn himself. Of course, the Bone Mountains were a far cry from the luxury of Annur, from those pampered childhood mornings sipping ta and slurping down porridge in the warm kitchens. During his quick search, Valyn had seen enough to know that the mountains were a hard place, and Kaden had hardened as well. He held his belt knife as though prepared to use it, but the knife was the least of it. Valyn’s gaze was riveted on his brother’s eyes.

Those eyes had always been startling, even frightening for some of the newer palace staff, but Valyn had grown used to them over the years. He remembered Kaden’s eyes being bright and steady as the flame of a lamp on a winter’s evening, as warm as candles set out for the nightly meal. Those eyes still burned, but Valyn no longer recognized the fire. The light was distant, like twin pyres seen from far off, cold, like the light of the stars on a moonless night, cold, and hard, and bright.

Even given the circumstances, Valyn might have expected some sort of smile, a nod, some mark of recognition. Kaden showed nothing. He raised his belt knife, and for a horrible moment, meeting those pitiless eyes, Valyn thought his brother meant to kill him. Then, before he realized what was happening, the ropes binding his wrists had fallen away and he was free. Without a pause, without a heartbeat of acknowledgment or celebration, Kaden moved down the line, cutting loose the rest of the Wing.

All of it took less than a dozen breaths. Valyn could tell his Wing was shocked and surprised, but then, they’d spent a long time on the Islands learning to deal with shock and surprise. Valyn waved Annick toward the pile of their weapons, blades and bows leaning against a rock a few paces away. He glanced over toward the two guards. They were still peering toward the brink of the precipice, but they could turn at any moment. As Gwenna and Annick rearmed, he crossed to Talal, lifted the adamanth cloth from the leach’s mouth, and waved away the residue of the noxious fumes. His friend choked, gagged, and then, after what seemed like an age, blearily opened his eyes. He’d been knocked out with adamanth before-all the leaches in the Islands trained for this-and only time would bring him fully awake. In a minute or so, he might be able to run, but it would be a long while before he could reach his well again, by which time the fight would likely be over, one way or another.

Valyn’s first thought was to race for the bird. Yurl’s Wing had tethered Suant’ra in a small depression less than a quarter mile down the slope to the west. But that was a fool’s errand. There was no telling what kind of chaos could break out in the darkness with the Annurians behind them and Balendin wielding that well of his. It has to be now, Valyn thought. Quick and brutal, while we have the advantage .