Night of Masks and Knives (The Broken Kingdoms Book 4)

I reeled through each step. Surface. Run through the north alley. Close the storm gates on all four alleyways. Lock in the skydguard.

A simple plan. We’d move fast enough. We had to.

I gathered the cold shadows. A hum of mesmer quickened my instincts, added power to my heart. Fear was heady above me. Every whimper, every shudder, every jolt of surprise tasted sharp on my tongue, and I took it for my own strength.

When I breached the surface, already dozens of skydguard had blades drawn, hunched around the large stone fountain of Loki and his children in the center of the square.

There was hardly time to orient before a guard cried out the manhole had opened.

Like a river of black ink, I spread my shadows around the skydguard. The wise ones ran from the dark. The ones stupid enough to be brave stood in its path.

Dark mesmer coiled around ankles and wrists and necks. By the gods, they tried to be fearless, but held a mighty amount of reluctance for death. I could bathe in the potent adrenaline as their hearts raced in panic at the frigid touch of my magic. If I were not in a hurry, I might toy with them, torture them a bit. Use my wickedness against theirs.

But there was no time.

Five guards in my grip, I closed my fists. Mesmer created dark images in my head. Brutal ways to die. Those thoughts burned through the shadows coiling around their necks and bodies. A burn filled my veins. Either I needed to pull back or give my magic a job to do. With a final thought, I commanded the mounting fear to become reality.

Darkness pierced their chests like mist-made darts and the guards fell over, dead.

I climbed the rest of the way out of the sewers and drew my sword. Powerful as mesmer could be, it took a toll. I’d use what was needed but fight the rest with steel.

Tova fired arrows at the fountain, while Gunnar launched his perfect shots at the four alleyways. His arrows herded the skydguard away from the edges of the city center, giving time for Dagny in one alley, Ash in the next, and Hanna at another, to pull levers on the sides of the archways.

When pulled, iron clanked and scraped against stone, and a heavy, wooden storm wall fell into place.

One alley remained open. Our one chance at escape.

Two skydguard rushed me. One swiped his dagger for my leg. I parried and cut across his upper ribs. As he fell, I spun around and cut through the leathers of the second guard. The first tried to scramble back. I allowed him to get three paces away before I lengthened my stride and stabbed my blacksteel through his heart.

I spun around in time to watch Raum pull Malin from the sewers.

″Go,” I shouted at the Kryv on the ground, then to those on the rooftops.

Our timetable was shrinking.

Tova and Gunnar put away their bows, sprinted across the rib of the roof, slid down the slats, then disappeared through the north alley.

More skydguard tested their luck and raced after those who’d emerged from the sewer. My attention on my guild gave room for a tall, sweat-soaked guard to kick at my leg.

Cursed hells.

I tightened my grip on my sword and took my own advice to focus on my own bleeding fight. The guard reeled back for a second strike. I leaned away in time to catch the cool wind from the swipe of his blade on my face.

The missed hit made the guard stumble off balance slightly. Enough of a misstep for me to ram my dagger through his chin.

At my back, Raum laughed, blood on his face, and threw a small knife without a hilt, burying the blade in the chest of a nearby guard.

″Time to go!” he shouted at Malin.

She didn’t hesitate and ran. But no less than six skydguard bit at their heels.

The skydguard were roaches, always there, difficult to kill entirely.

I pulled at the fear soaking the damp cobblestones once again, muscles trembling. Strength would wane after this, no mistake, but I had enough for a few more plays.

The moment my focus homed in on the guards chasing Malin and Raum, all six staggered to an abrupt stop. They choked; their skin raised in oozing boils. Fear of disease was common in the regions when menders had little to work with. Plague and suffering were not far from the minds of the poor.

It allowed for horribly creative deaths.

The guards let out gurgled cries of anguish. My fists closed, and the six men scraped at their faces, their eyes swelled shut. When they coughed, blood and teeth dripped over their lips.

My arms trembled. I tipped my head to one side, and at once the final breath ripped out of each chest as my mesmer pulled away.

Malin gaped at me. Foolish of her to stop. There were blades ready to cut her down.

″Get out of here!” I shouted.

She blinked back to the moment and tried to run. But when she turned, a thick guard broke her retreat, using his fist to level her to the ground.

My heart stopped. Not a pulse. Not a sound. Nothing but silence as my body froze at the sight of Malin falling.

I tried, gods knew I tried, to despise everything about her. Tried to forget her strange breathy laugh when she thought she said something funny. Tried to forget the way she used to practice her braids on my hair. Hells, I tried to forget the peace that came from falling asleep beside her even as a boy.

Now I’d brought her into this bleeding mess. For what? We could’ve gone on to get Hagen without her, but I’d deceived her, convinced her to make a deal with the Guild of Kryv for no other reason than it had grown too hard to stay away.

Malin spit blood onto the cobblestones.

″Another Alver! I smell it!” the guard shrieked. “Bring it here for this one and take her out the back.”

She tried to scramble away as two more guards brought out a wooden bucket. Inside, something sloshed like they’d drawn from the fountain.

My feet were already moving.

One last burst of mesmer. A little longer. I could hold long enough to get her away. I pleaded with my magic as dark mists curled around Malin. With a swipe of my hand, I commanded my fear to pull her back.

Only my own terror had the power to be controlled into something tangible and solid with the strength to lift physical objects.

Wrapped in my darkness, her body flipped out of reach. In her place, I stood beneath the guards and the bucket of pain I knew would come. No doubt some wretched elixir was in the pail.

The guards didn’t stop and poured the bucket over my head.

Boiling heat seeped through every pore. Fire ravished my skin off my bones. A thousand knives cut through muscle and flesh and dropped me to the ground before I could cry out.

Sound faded into oblivion.

All that was left was the agony.

I could not catch a breath. My skin surely had melted off my body now. Doubtless I was nothing but a bleeding pile of innards. Mesmer. I needed magic to break free of this, but I came up empty. Could not form a single command to pull a drop.

Pressure lowered to my chest.

Through a blur it looked as if someone hovered over me. Skydguard? They could take me, kill me. I’d welcome it if it meant the burn would cease.

But the hands touching me were gentle. These hands cared, and I had the urge to recoil.

″Get up, Kase.”

Malin.

What a fool. She’d be wise to leave me. I would be nothing but a curse in her life. But she didn’t. Malin lifted my arm and placed it over her narrow shoulders.

The pain of it blinded my thoughts. Bright, hot anguish filled my head as she tried to get me to stand. Standing would not be worth it. No question, it would be better to lie back and die.

″You must help me.” Malin’s voice cracked.

I wanted to groan, wanted to curse her, but with what I knew of the woman, Malin Strom would remain here until I pulled my ass off the ground and made a staunch refusal to cross the line between life and death.

Hells, she’d die beside me if she didn’t get some bleeding brains and leave.

No matter how callous, how icy I’d been to her, she bore her heart on the outside and would let it die before she left anyone behind.

Somewhere in the haze and desire to slip into darkness, I moved my feet. A stronger, less gentle grip came to my opposite side. Lynx. His bulky arms lurched me forward until I had no choice in the matter and was stumbling on weak legs.

It was an awkward journey to the gates. I was at least half a head shorter than Lynx, and Malin was nearly a head shorter than me. Misaligned, yet somehow, they dragged me forward.

A haze overtook me, but I was vaguely aware the storm wall closed behind us as we fled through the alleyway. All other sound was as though I’d sunk beneath water. I lost my footing and fell forward.

My skin had burned too long in the poison that I hardly felt the fall, merely groaned, and rolled over to meet the Otherworld.

I’d lived a wretched life but had only one regret.

I should’ve found a way to tell Malin Strom the truth.

About everything.