Siege and Storm (Shadow and Bone #2)(16)

We stood back-to-back, my hands still trapped in irons, his still bound, powerless to defend ourselves as the deck erupted into fighting. Pistol shots rang out. The air came alive with Inferni fire. “To me, hounds!” Sturmhond shouted, and plunged into the action, a saber in his hands.

Barking, yipping, snarling men were descending on the Darkling’s Grisha from all sides—not just from the railing of the schooner but from the rigging of the whaler as well. Sturmhond’s men. Sturmhond was turning against the Darkling.

The privateer had clearly lost his mind. Yes, the Grisha were outnumbered, but numbers didn’t matter in a fight with the Darkling.

“Look!” Mal shouted.

Down in the water, the men in the remaining longboat had the struggling sea whip in tow. They had raised a sail, and a brisk wind was driving them, not toward the whaler but directly toward the schooner instead. The stiff breeze that carried them seemed to come from nowhere. I looked closer. A crewman was standing in the longboat, arms raised. There was no mistaking it: Sturmhond had a Squaller working for him.

Suddenly, an arm seized me around the waist and I was lifted off my feet. The world seemed to upend itself, and I shrieked as I was thrown over a huge shoulder.

I lifted my head, struggling against the arm that held me like a steel band, and saw Tamar rushing toward Mal, a knife gleaming in her hands. “No!” I screamed. “Mal!”

He put up his hands to defend himself, but all she did was slice through his bonds. “Go!” she shouted, tossing him the knife and drawing a sword from the scabbard at her hip.

Tolya clutched me tighter as he sprinted over the deck. Tamar and Mal were close behind.

“What are you doing?” I squawked, my head jouncing against the giant’s back.

“Just run!” Tamar replied, slashing at a Corporalnik who threw himself into her path.

“I can’t run,” I shouted back. “Your idiot brother has me slung over his shoulder like a ham!”

“Do you want to be rescued or not?”

I didn’t have time to answer.

“Hold tight,” Tolya said. “We’re going over.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing to tumble into the icy water. But Tolya hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he gave a sudden grunt and fell to one knee, losing his grip on me. I toppled to the deck and rolled clumsily onto my side. When I looked up, I saw Ivan and a blue-robed Inferni standing over us.

Ivan’s hand was outstretched. He was crushing Tolya’s heart, and this time, Sturmhond wasn’t there to stop him.

The Inferni advanced on Tamar and Mal, flint in hand, arm already moving in an arc of flame. Over before it began, I thought miserably. But in the next moment, the Inferni stopped and gasped. His flames died on the air.

“What are you waiting for?” Ivan snarled.

The Inferni’s only response was a choked hiss. His eyes bulged. He clawed at his throat.

Tamar held her sword in her right hand, but her left fist was clenched.

“Good trick,” she said, swatting away the paralyzed Inferni’s flint. “I know a good trick, too.” She raised her blade, and as the Inferni stood helpless, desperate for air, she ran him through with one vicious thrust.

The Inferni crumpled to the deck. Ivan stared in confusion at Tamar standing over the lifeless body, her sword dripping blood. His concentration must have wavered, because in that moment, Tolya came up from his knee with a terrifying roar.

Ivan clenched his fist, refocusing his efforts. Tolya grimaced, but he did not fall. Then the giant’s hand shot out, and Ivan’s face spasmed in pain and bewilderment.

I looked from Tolya to Tamar, realization dawning. They were Grisha. Heartrenders.

“Do you like that, little man?” Tolya asked as he stalked toward Ivan. Desperately, Ivan cast out another hand. He was shaking, and I could see he was struggling for breath.

Tolya bobbled slightly but kept coming. “Now we learn who has the stronger heart,” he growled.

He strode slowly forward, like he was walking against a hard wind, his face beaded with sweat, his teeth bared in feral glee. I wondered if he and Ivan would both just fall down dead.

Then the fingers of Tolya’s outstretched hand curled into a fist. Ivan convulsed. His eyes rolled up in his head. A bubble of blood blossomed and burst on his lips. He collapsed onto the deck.

Dimly, I was aware of the chaos raging around me. Tamar was struggling with a Squaller. Two other Grisha had leapt onto Tolya. I heard a gunshot and realized Mal had gotten hold of a pistol. But all I could see was Ivan’s lifeless body.

He was dead. The Darkling’s right hand. One of the most powerful Heartrenders in the Second Army. He’d survived the Fold and the volcra, and now he was dead.

A tiny sob drew me out of my reverie. Genya stood gazing down at Ivan, her hands over her mouth.

“Genya—” I said.

“Stop them!” The shout came from across the deck. I turned and saw the Darkling grappling with an armed sailor.

Genya was shaking. She reached into the pocket of her kefta and drew out a pistol. Tolya lunged toward her.

“No!” I said, stepping between them. I wasn’t going to watch him kill Genya.

The heavy pistol trembled in her hand.

“Genya,” I said quietly, “are you really going to shoot me?” She looked around wildly, unsure of where to aim. I laid a hand on her sleeve. She flinched and turned the barrel on me.