Brian Staveley - The Emperor's blades

Annick already had her bow strung. Valyn glanced over at the soldiers. The argument over the signal fires had intensified, drawing in Balendin and a few more of the Aedolians. Laith, meanwhile, was busy distributing the blades to the rest of the Wing while Gwenna silently rifled through her munitions, setting aside a handful that Valyn didn’t recognize, shaking her head in anger as she worked. He briefly considered having her rig a covering blast with smokers-that would give them an even chance of reaching Suant’ra-but even Gwenna would need a few minutes to set the charges, and the smart money said they didn’t have a few minutes. Valyn gestured to Annick for her small flatbow. The sniper was better with it than anyone else in the group, but she couldn’t fire two weapons at once, and Kaden had only his belt knife. Valyn doubted his brother had ever fired such a thing, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some more steel in the air when the chaos broke, and Valyn himself was better with his blades. Kaden eyed the weapon briefly, watched while Valyn mimed the mechanism, then accepted it with that same icy calm. That ice troubled Valyn, as though he had come all this way to rescue a walking corpse, or a ghost, but there wasn’t time to worry about it now.

Not time left to do anything but go, Valyn thought, gesturing to Annick.

One of the two guards was pointing at something to the east. He spat into the darkness, then started to turn back toward the prisoners. Annick’s arrow took him clean through the throat. He crumpled without even a groan, but his armor clattered against the rocks, and the second man turned into a second arrow, this one straight through the eye and into the brain.

That was two down in as many heartbeats, two out of a dozen. But it’s not them we need to kill, Valyn thought, pointing hard at Balendin.

Both Annick and Balendin seemed to have heard his thoughts at the same time. The leach turned, anger and fear warring on his face, just as Annick loosed one, then two, then three arrows, her arm moving so fast that for a split second they all hung in the air at the same time, one before the other, like geese on the wing, all hurtling toward the leach. It was over. No one could defend against that-there were just too many arrows, just too little time-but at the last moment, just as he expected to see the leach’s face transfixed with a quivering wooden shaft, the arrows veered wide, knocked skittering into the darkness by some invisible palm. Balendin glanced over his shoulder, as though he, himself, were surprised at the result, then turned back to the group, a smile stretching across his face.

“So,” he began slowly. “I see you’ve all decided to have one last go at vengeance.” He shook his head as though marveling, but made no effort to reach for his blades. The falcon on his shoulder let out an ear-piercing shriek, and the remaining Aedolians turned toward the fight. Metal grated on metal as they slid their swords from their sheaths. Balendin didn’t seem to notice them. “Who would believe that people could get so worked up about a little torture, the occasional brutal murder?”

The remaining Aedolians and Tarik Adiv had had plenty of time to realize what was happening, but Annick never hesitated, shifting her fire to the armored men, who dropped like stones before they could even start to cover the gap. Four, five, six. The sniper realized that Balendin was invulnerable, at least for the moment, and she’d adjusted her attack to deal with the rest of the field. Seven, eight . The leach, for his part, seemed amused to let them die. Valyn ground his teeth. With his well running deep and strong, Balendin could clearly handle an entire Wing all by himself.

At the last moment, Adiv fled into the darkness, Annick’s arrow clattering into the rock where he had stood. If Balendin was concerned about the disappearance of his final remaining ally, he didn’t show it. In fact, the leach was grinning.

“The problem with confederates,” he said, gesturing at the fallen bodies, “is that you never quite know how far you can trust them.” He nudged one of the dead Aedolians with a toe. “Although I hate to cast doubt on the noble Micijah Ut, I half suspect he intended to murder us when this whole business was wrapped up. He really doesn’t seem to relish his job in quite the way we do.”

Annick loosed another arrow, but Balendin flicked a contemptuous finger, and it flew wide into the night. Kaden still held the flatbow, his finger on the trigger, but its bolts would prove no more useful than the sniper’s arrows. Talal, Valyn thought angrily. We need Talal . But the leach was only now recovering from the adamanth, rolling groggily on the ground, trying to stumble to his knees.

Balendin considered the sight for a moment. “I hope you realize,” he said, addressing Talal, “that as a fellow leach, I hold you in the highest esteem. We happy few, so reviled by the world, yet so blessed by the gods-we should stick together. So you understand it pains me that I have to do this-”

A stone the size of Valyn’s fist flew through the night, hurled by some invisible force, striking Talal squarely between his eyes and dropping him to the earth.

“And now,” Balendin added, turning smugly to Annick, “just because I’m getting tired of swatting down your arrows.” Another stone leapt from the ground, hovered, revolving in the air before the leach, then whistled through the night, striking Annick with an audible crack and cutting a ragged gash across her forehead. She dropped, knees unstrung.

“Balendin,” Valyn ground out, fighting for time, “you can’t win.”

The leach laughed, the sound rich with acid and amusement.

“No one ever said you weren’t bold,” he replied, shaking his head, “just that you weren’t too bright.”

Three more stones dropped Laith, Gwenna, and Triste like beef at the slaughterhouse, eyes glazed, hands limp on their weapons. Valyn had no idea if any of them were still breathing, no idea if they were even alive.

“I just cannot tell you how much I regret losing such delectable emotion,” Balendin said, then shrugged. “But they have to go sometime, and with the hate rolling off you, I still feel like I could rip the top off this mountain.”

“What did you do to them?” Valyn demanded, sickened by the possibilities.

The leach shrugged. “Nothing permanent. Not yet. I like to give Yurl the illusion that he controls the Wing, and he sometimes has some … unusual ideas about military protocol. Especially when it comes to female captives. Hard to say which one will give him the most pleasure. This delightfully treacherous young bitch,” he said, indicating Triste with a jerk of his head, “is clearly the best catch, but then, there’s always something satisfying about fucking an angry woman into sobbing submission.”

Kaden took half a step forward, the flatbow aimed directly at Balendin’s chest.

“Who are you?” he asked. They were the first words he’d spoken all night.

Valyn stared. If his brother was frightened to be facing a Kettral-trained leach, he didn’t show it. He looked at Balendin the way a butcher might consider a cut of meat, as though wondering how best to start carving. The veterans back on the Islands were cool, collected, but this … it was as though Kaden had never even heard of fear.

“I,” the leach responded, evidently enjoying his moment, “am Balendin Ainhoa, Kettral leach serving on the Wing of one Sami Yurl, himself serving the Emperor of Annur, Kaden hui’Malkeenian.” He winked. “I guess that’s you. At least, for a little while longer. I imagine we’ll have some trouble deciding whether you watch your brother die, or whether he watches you, but, as they say, it all works out in the end.”