Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(67)

Be careful, the captain said. How many?

Cettie went down the steps, seeing the huddles of people. There were probably no more than twelve, each one trying to stay above the floor. How long had they been left in the dark? Some winced away from the light of her lantern. As she got closer, she saw there were dead bodies on the floor, sprawled out in painful poses. Snakes hissed at her light as she approached.

“I see a dozen. Some are dead. Do not come closer yet.”

Aye. We’re standing ready. I won’t give orders until you learn more.

“I’m here to help you,” Cettie said in a calming voice as she reached the lower steps, just above the coiling snakes. She’d mastered her fear of them at the school. The students had all been taught to lift and handle them so they could touch them without being bitten.

As she was about to stoop and clear the stairs, she sensed the invocation of power. The eyes of some of the people huddling on the benches began to flash silver. She felt their kystrels flare to life, sending terror at her, terror that would freeze and bind her limbs.

There was the crack of a gunshot—behind and above. From the courtyard.

She felt Captain Dumas’s thoughts suddenly wink out. He was already dead.





CHAPTER TWENTY?FOUR

OATH MAIDEN



Cettie knew the sensation of terror all too well. How many times had she fallen victim to it? She had learned at the poisoner school to confront her fear, and all her other feelings, and to capture them within the medallion she wore around her neck. That medallion had given her the ability to control her emotions. And that was what most people craved—to be in control of themselves, of their circumstances, of their fate. But control was only an illusion, and one with a steep price.

The kystrel had made her its slave.

Terror beat into her now, bringing back the fears of the young girl who’d hidden from ghosts only she could see, but she could not hide from it, nor would she have. The light from the lantern began to dim. How many Myriad Ones slunk through the shadows?

“Welcome back,” said a hateful voice that she recognized at once. Gone was the facade of caring and wisdom. Jevin’s glowing eyes stared at her from the benches. Her mentor. Her deceiver. The menace in his words told him all she needed to know. The man who’d been so solicitous, so kind, intended to kill her.

She felt a hand grasp her wrist. Adam.

He took the lantern from her, and bright light flared from it. Adam held up the lantern, standing on the stairs in defiance.

And Cettie’s terror cringed away from her stronger sense of purpose, just like the Myriad Ones cringed from the light.

Banirexpiare.

The thought came from her and Adam together, their minds joined as one. Shrieks of pain split her mind, a keening sound that rumbled like thunder. The light was a shield now, a barrier the shadow beings could not pass. It grew brighter and brighter as her will and Adam’s united. The brightness revealed that the Leering with the Everoot had been stripped bare of the mossy plant. None of it was left. The craggy face of the carving seemed to be weeping at the loss.

The snakes hissed and retreated from the brilliance, seeking shelter in the shadows. Taking a deep, heartening breath, Cettie stepped into the room.

The first kishion rushed at her, his pistol aimed for her head. He pulled the trigger, but the mechanism jammed. Anger contorted his face. He tried shaking the gun and aimed for her again as she approached him. The trigger went. Nothing happened. Swearing a foul oath, he threw down the pistol and drew a dagger from his belt. This he shoved at her chest, trying to stab her heart.

Cettie felt as if the world slowed. Magic coursed through her, heightening every sense, connecting her to every person in the room. She stepped to the side on instinct, the dagger going wide, and then brought her knee up into his stomach. Her arms moved in unison, performing a Bhikhu technique that Raj Sarin had shown her—the butterfly hands—and when she struck the kishion, she felt an explosion of power erupt from her palms. The man was thrown from his feet as if he’d been struck by a battering ram, his arms pinwheeling as he sailed backward. She felt his bones breaking, and then he lay sprawled on the floor in agony.

“Kill her! Now!” Jevin thundered.

A dagger sailed toward her head, but it seemed to come no faster than a feather dropping. She caught it midair and tossed it aside, moving forward and springing up, her legs scissoring to kick the man in the face. Again she felt a swell of power, an amplification of her abilities. As a hetaera and poisoner, she’d had access to the toxic but occasionally useful knowledge of the Myriad Ones, but now she could draw on memories from a thousand lifetimes of strong warriors, Oath Maidens all.

Three of them attacked her at once, leaving only Jevin, who grabbed one of the prisoners by the collar and hoisted him off the bench.

The beard and scraggly hair and tattered clothes hid the man’s identity, but then she recognized him. Trevon. She needed to get to him while he was still alive. She had to save him for Sera.

The raw fury on her attackers’ faces showed their hate, their willingness to crush her life. One of them, she realized, was her weapons instructor. Another, a hetaera student she recognized, tried to tackle her, but Cettie sidestepped at the last moment. She was all elbows and feet, blocking strikes, dodging blades. Another enemy raised a pistol and fired again, and this weapon froze just like the last one. The oath magic was protecting her. She brought them down, one by one, striking with more strength than she had ever done before. She was the Mysteries’ vengeance. Its power rippled through her arms, her hands. For the first time in a long, long while, she felt at one with herself, totally at peace in the vortex of a raging storm. Around her, the attackers peeled back, struck and injured, bones breaking, vital organs bruised. The other poisoner in training was among the fallen.