‘We can’t pussyfoot about here,’ Ioann said. ‘The more time we give her, the more dangerous she is. We fight like a raging bear. Trap her, give her no chance to collect herself,’ he added.
Thelonious nodded and opened the door. For all their drama, it was almost disappointing when they weren’t immediately assailed by guards upon stepping out. The hall was empty.
Syline stepped out behind Thelonious, eyes scanning back and forth.
‘Find Jane.’
She pushed Thelonious towards the main foyer, guiding him to take the lead. She wasn’t afraid of any guard; she, Amberly and Thelonious had managed everything Jane had thrown at them up to this point. They could handle a few charmed soldiers. They moved through the hall as a group. All the windows in the hall had their curtains pulled shut, keeping the place in a state of near total darkness likely for the vampiric Jane’s benefit. They came to the main foyer lit by gas lamps and classically impressive with the same kind of architecture found in Syline’s own home. Dual staircases led from the second floor, joining together to make an impressive, grand rise, flanked by statues of beautiful women in states of ecstasy.
The group was taking a short moment to consider which way to go next, looking from the first floor to further along the second, when Gehrman Petrov came wandering from out of view to the foyer below, talking with a maid and holding a mug of coffee in both hands. He was an older man, older than what Jane appeared to be by at least a decade or more. It was hardly a secret that she married him for his money. In his younger days, he’d actually been a soldier, and served as one of the founding members of Syline’s father’s forces. Back then he had been in fine shape. Now, though, a gut replaced once powerful abs, his hands shook when he tried to focus and his bones creaked when he tried to work out.
His eyes locked with those of Thelonious, staring at the group for a few moments as the rest of them came to the balcony. For a moment, only confusion showed in them, as if he was trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Then, all at once, the moment of serenity came to an end. His mug of coffee was dropped, and by the time it shattered on the tiles, the man had taken off running, dragging the maid behind him by the elbow.
‘Guards! Guards! Jane, my love, they’ve come for you! Syline has come for you from the dead!’
Syline thought that might have been a little dramatic, but it was not wholly incorrect. There was no hiding their presence, now. Syline shot Thelonious a look and took off running down the stairs, holding the skirts of her robes up as she went. Thelonious and Ioann bolted straight past her on far longer, surer limbs as Amberly and Kat skipped the stairs all together, vaulting over the balcony and rolling to their feet.
Syline felt a little put out by their athleticism, making her own bravado look paltry as they all reached the ground floor before her. They all stood together on the bottom flight of the stairs as, from every direction, guards came running. These weren’t the normal retired watchman and ex-adventurers most nobles hired as their protectors. They looked much more like Teagan’s men: hard, vicious sellswords in a motley assortment of armour. The only unifying aspect was that each of them held an arming sword in one hand, the back side of which was brutally serrated.
Coming up behind them was Gehrman. He held a longsword in both of his shaking hands, standing protectively before the woman who came striding up behind him. Just like when Syline had last seen her, Jane Petrov was dressed in an evening gown wholly unbefitting for the weather. But now, she did nothing to hide her terrible presence. Her eyes were tinted red, skin impossibly pale and radiant. She wiped her lips clean of blood, leaving them bright red against her alabaster skin. Her lips were held in a charming grin of good humour, exposing vicious fangs, even as her eyes blazed with deathly fury. Something had changed. Before, she had radiated grace, poise, and lethal intent, it was like looking upon a snow leopard, a great hunting cat. Now, the undercurrent of madness, the quivering hands, the faint flecks of embers dancing around her, and that not quite straight smile, she looked…
Like a nightmare.
‘You know, Syline, I admire you. I’d have never expected an idiot, wannabe wizard to come this far: to defeat all of my hunters, gather your own little army, and even trick me into thinking you’re dead. I honestly thought this was finished, but after tonight, it will be. No one is leaving this building alive. No one. Kill them.’
Chapter 18
Jane was calling her. She could feel the pulse of her mind, the call that only her true mistress should be able to give, that only her mother should be able to beckon her with. She fought every step. She knew Syline was here now, she’d somehow survived and if Syline had come, so had the end. Knowledge was a virus, and if the truth of them was out, it would spread like a plague across the city. Any of Jane’s sisters would have fled already, they would have cleared up the evidence of their presence in the city and disappeared into the night to return home to Nachthelm. If Syline was here, then the watch would not be far behind. However powerful Jane had become, Lauralee did not believe for a second she could take on the entire city.
And still she called for her. Her voice pounding, screaming, raving within Lauralee’s mind, wrapping about her thoughts like a chain and pulling her towards the foyer.
Lauralee’s possessions lay half packed around the small room allocated to her. As she took a heavy leaden step towards the door, she crushed her favourite comb, mother of pearl, beneath her foot. The sharp teeth dug into her sole, eliciting a gasp of pain from her. She focused her mind upon it, the chain pulling at her thoughts yanked her another step forward, but as she did, she ground her foot into the comb, breaking the skin of her sole. Old blood oozed from the wound as pain danced electrically up her leg. She seized hold of that lightning and guided it to the chains wrapping about her, letting it dance back across their bond to Jane’s own thoughts. She felt the chain slacken.
What do you think you’re doing, child? Jane’s thoughts were like razors, all sharp edges, hurling into the meat of her mind. Our home is threatened and you hide from me? You cower and quiver? Your mother said you were a warr–
Lauralee slammed her head into the corner of the doorframe. Something cracked. She hoped it was the doorframe. She licked blood from her lips as it ran down slowly over them from her scalp. The chains shattered.
Lauralee let out a slow, quivering breath and slumped to the floor as her balance left her. The feeling of another inside her thoughts always sent waves of revulsion through her. Only loyalty suppressed those feelings when it was her mother. She felt no such kinship with the mad creature Jane had become. It would be better for all involved, this city and the Mother’s Hand, if Jane died here tonight.
Lauralee looked back over her shoulder; her maid slumbered upon her bed. Together they could flee now.
After taking a few moments to select some choice items from her possessions, she shut the door behind her and made for the foyer. She had no intention of getting involved if she didn’t have to. But perhaps Syline could soften her up enough for Lauralee to finish the job.
The fight erupted. Ten hardened mercenaries rushing five motley adventurers. Some made for Syline, still on the stairs. She backed up, knowing her best chances here would be with spells, not her axe. Forces clashed with one another below her. Syline tried to get a look around, but before she could really judge how any of her friends were faring, a more immediate problem presented itself. Two men were climbing over the guardrail of the staircase to avoid the fight and get straight to her.
Syline moved to the other side of the stairs, readying her staff in one hand and axe in the other as the men drew their blades. Behind them, she could still see Lady Jane Petrov watching the fight impassively alongside her husband, who still held a longsword like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. As she watched, Jane let out a barking yell, seemingly at nothing, turning to glare over her shoulder at the empty hall. She put them from her mind for now. If Jane was so cocky or so cowardly that she was just going to watch the fight from a distance, then she would be punished for it in time. For now, Syline had to do her own part in this fight.
Her first foe had managed to get tangled in the overly fanciful banister, but his fellow was running for her. He knew full well she was unarmed and swung with the cruel, serrated edge, hoping to inflict a wound that would end the fight before it began. She had to act fast.
She frantically retreated to avoid it and the sideswipe that followed, beginning her first incantation, one of several she’d chosen for tonight, as she moved. The man was quick to follow, but not so quick that Syline couldn’t finish the spell. A crackling blue aura like lightning surrounded her, and when his next stab came for her, the aura solidified into a shield, stopping it a mere inch from her flesh. Over her foe’s shoulder, she saw a man at the base of the stairs hold up a fingerless hand as Kat retracted her blade. Her sister seemed to be faring well.
Syline did her best to give the man a cocky grin and put him off his guard. In reality, she had no clue how long that shield could hold against their attacks. His fellow had disentangled himself from the banister and was climbing the steps. It looked like he’d hurt his leg in the process. She’d have to end the fight with him before he and his fellow could put up a concerted attack. The man grinned back at her, gripping his blade with both hands to force it through her shield. Syline replied by raising her staff threateningly, beginning to incant. In truth it was nonsense, but she trusted the man didn’t know enough arcane to recognise that. What she needed was enough space to bring out her more offensive spells, and he gave her just the opportunity to make that space.
Thinking she was going for a spell, the man rushed up the steps at her, his fellow just a few steps behind, but as he lifted his leg to push himself up, Syline lashed out. Lowering her staff to the ground and using it to balance herself, she kicked him full in the chest, using the high ground to compensate for her inferior strength. Though she might not have been the strongest, the kick was enough to send the man reeling, and a further shove with the butt of her staff had his arms flailing as the man cursed, crashed, and tumbled his way to the foot of the stairs, landing in a heap, bloodied and bruised by his descent down the stone steps. He knocked into his fellow as he went, and the man stumbled back several steps, cursing and grabbing onto the banister to avoid going with him.
He landed by Kat, and without ever looking directly at him, Syline’s older sister sliced her blade across his chest as she stepped to defend Thelonious, who was struggling against a pair of foes, his footwork awkward from the day on horseback. Both of Kat’s foes were already on the ground. One bled from a puncture through his throat, and the other laid, missing a hand and holding a mutilated arm. Thelonious was struggling, even with one of his foes at his feet already. He’d fought worse in the past, but their long travels must have exhausted him. Syline had no time to help, for the once-tangled man was upon her, and even the fallen mercenary was rising again, already gone from Kat’s mind as he slipped past them.
The man coming up the stairs had a scar that split his face, leaving his mouth in a constant sneer. He held his sword low, serrated edge out like his fellow, but in his off hand, he had drawn a throwing knife. It looked like he had sprained his ankle when it had gotten caught, for he seemed slightly hobbled. Syline began casting and the man hefted the knife, throwing it ahead of him as she finished her spell. The knife flew right for her head, whilst out of her staff exploded a pair of crackling, purple and blue missiles of arcane energy. Both were dead on to their mark. His dagger struck her blade-first right between her eyes, while her missiles thudded into his chest.
But Syline had a shield spell. He didn’t. The knife caught in her shimmering aura and clattered to the ground as the man stumbled back a step, blood on his lips from the missiles. They didn’t cut, but he was likely bleeding badly internally from the pure force of them. He wasn’t finished though, and neither was her first opponent: both were making their way for her now. Another knife flew her way to cease her casting. Again, it crackled against her shield spell, but cracks formed as it solidified. It was weakening. Syline backed up a few steps further, standing on the first landing as her shield continued to crackle dangerously, on the point of breaking. Crackling. That gave Syline an idea. She’d only cast the spell once before, and when she had, she’d vented all of her magic at once to send herself as far as she could, but surely, if she limited the power of the spell down to a minimum and kept her sights within this room alone, it would be a powerful weapon. She’d readied it, thinking to use it as a last resort escape, but perhaps there were better uses.
The two men had their blades up and ready now, right within her reach as they pelted up the steps. There was no more time to think, only to react. The blade of the man on her right scored across her shield, and she swore she could hear it splintering. The other stabbed at her shoulder, her shield flexing and the force enough to stumble her, even if it didn’t penetrate. Clear a little space. The incantation was short – she’d only need a few seconds. Try not to panic. Both are wounded already. Trust in the shield.
The shield, of course! Syline swung her axe up at one, forcing him to leap back. She used that opening to jump straight between them, putting them off their guard as she leaped straight down a half dozen steps, landing with a flex of her knees and grabbing at the banister to avoid falling any further. The men hurried down the steps after her. Both were hurt and took care not to take another tumble, giving her a scant second to begin an incantation and swing her axe wide towards them. The most wounded of the pair backed up a step, but the other caught it easily on his blade. It was almost a little shameful how little difficulty a real warrior had against her meagre strength.
Still, her axe was quite good in such a situation, even if her foe was the stronger. She twisted it, caught the head against his blade and yanked forwards. He hadn’t expected the counter and tripped down the stairs, bashing his head against the edge of a step. But while she’d been focusing on him, his fellow moved around to her side. She turned his way as she finished the spell, his sword was coming for her chest with all his remaining strength that hadn’t been stolen by his wounds.
The blade never touched her skin, for suddenly Syline was gone, and both men received a nasty shock as a burst of electricity came from where she had been. The one who had fallen, screamed. The other shuddered, a groan of agony escaping him as his muscles spasmed and teeth chattered. His eyes frantically scanned around for where their foe had disappeared to.
He didn’t see Syline, because by then she was a good few metres in the air above him. She tucked her staff into her armpit and took her axe in both hands as she rapidly fell towards the man. He didn’t even look up as Syline slammed into stairs behind him, the flat of her axe coming down hard on the back of his skull. Alive or dead, Syline couldn’t have said, but at this moment, she didn’t have the time to spare for guilt as the man collapsed, limply rolling down the stairs. Syline at least knew how to land: she’d had a passing interest in acrobatics when she was younger and Kat had taught her how to take a fall. She flexed her knees as she landed, absorbing much of the impact. She still nearly landed on her rump.
The other man looked up at her and struggled to get to his feet, blade still held in one hand. Syline stepped forward, repeating her hammer blow once more, the haft of the axe slamming into the man’s jaw. The man went down like a puppet with his strings cut, body limp. Syline was starting to think she should invest in a club.
She allowed herself a momentary sigh of relief. A moment to catch her breath. They were winning. She had won this fight all on her own – okay, Kat helped her out a bit, but still – and if she could do it, surely the rest of them would be okay dealing with their own opponents.
She looked up. Thelonious and Kat were mopping up their opponents. Thelonious had taken a cut to his arm, the bracer on his left arm rent with blood weeping from the gash to the metal. Kat was unharmed. As Syline watched, Thelonious caught the serrated edge of one of their opponent’s blades on his sword, and the big, hellblooded warrior let out a roar as he ripped the blade from the man’s hands. It clattered across the tiles as Thelonious cut him down. His fellow leapt back as blood splattered across one of his eyes. Kat wasted no time, stepping in and spearing her blade straight through him in the moment of distraction.
