Flamecaster (Shattered Realms #1)(27)

The blade man raked a hand through Ash’s hair, then lifted the bloody knife. Cut a lock away, tied it with a thread, and put it into a little bag at his belt. A trophy. Ash struggled again to move, to raise a wizard flame, to cry for help. Nothing. That was when he realized that he was going to die.

The priest drank from the wound again and smiled a beatific smile, his teeth rimed with blood. “I do so wish that we had more time, and a private place, to do this properly,” he said, running his cold fingers along Ash’s collarbone, seeking the pulse point. “I would take you up in small sips, slowly draining you of sin and substance until the mana’in slips away like a whisper in the dark. With a healthy young demon such as yourself, the cleansing ceremony can last for hours.” He sighed. “It’s a lovely ritual, and a peaceful end.” He sighed again. “But my brothers will be here soon, and then, I’m afraid, it will be something of a feeding frenzy.”

As if on cue, Ash heard the door to his room slam open. The priest muttered a curse, and his movements now became quick and purposeful. He grasped Ash’s chin and shoved it back and up. Ash closed his eyes and sent up a prayer to the Maker, expecting the touch of steel at the base of his neck, where the great vein comes close to the surface.

The assassin made a new sound, a cross between a grunt of surprise and a gurgle. Something warm and wet splashed across Ash’s bare chest, and his chin was suddenly released. He opened his eyes just as his attacker slid sideways onto the bed, his own knife sticking out of his throat.

“Ash.” Lila’s voice was soft and urgent. “Are you all right? Did he stick you?” Her face appeared within his field of vision, eyes narrowed with worry.

Ash could only stare at her helplessly. Lila sucked in her breath and ran her hands over him, looking for a point of entry. Her hand stopped over his heart. “What’s this?”

The suffocating weight was gone. Ash pushed up on his elbows.

Lila was holding something on her palm, like a dark spot. When she passed it under the light from the window, Ash could see it was a stone, a burnt-sugar color, veined with crystal.

“It’s magic,” Ash gasped. “I couldn’t move, not a twitch. And . . . and it sucked all the magic out of me.”

Lila weighed the stone in her hand, then tucked it into her pocket. “Are you hurt otherwise?”

Ash shook his head. “Just my arm. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? Where’s all the blood coming from then?” Lila’s voice tremored a bit.

Ash looked. The sheets where his arm had rested were sodden with blood, and the flesh was ripped from his wrist halfway to his elbow. It was the sort of a wound a person might have made a fuss over, in normal circumstances. But just now it seemed unimportant, next to his life. He flexed his fingers and found the tendons and nerves intact. Blood still ran freely down his arm, and he pressed it tightly to his side to stanch the bleeding. An anticoagulant, he thought, his training kicking in. They use an anticoagulant to keep the blood flowing.

“He took my amulet,” Ash said hoarsely. “It’s in his bag. On the floor. There.” He pointed. Can you . . . get it for me?”

“You mages and your amulets,” Lila said, the relief in her voice unmistakable. She turned away from Ash, knelt on the floor, and rooted in the assassin’s carry bag.

Ash saw a flash of movement over Lila’s shoulder, someone flying through the doorway, heading his way.

“Lila!” Ash shouted, using the body of the dead assassin as a shield so that the newcomer buried his blade in the corpse. The newcomer was still trying to free it when Lila slammed into him, sending him flying. He landed, hard, his head striking the washstand.

Instantly, Lila was on him. She gripped the hilt of her knife with both hands, raised it and—

“Wait!” Ash shouted.

The blade was already on its way down, with all Lila’s weight behind it, but she somehow managed to turn it so it stuck in the floor next to the man’s throat. She swore and yanked the point free, then let it drop until it rested just above the assassin’s collarbone. He didn’t stir. Lila looked back at Ash.

“What?” She sounded wild, bloodthirsty, and completely unfamiliar.

Ash shoved the body of the first assassin aside and stood up unsteadily. “Maybe we should try to find out who they are and why they’re trying to kill me.”

Lila stared at him a moment, and then brushed a hand absently across her face, as if to wipe something away. Then nodded. “Right.”

“Why don’t you go fetch the dorm masters and provosts and I’ll search these two for clues.”

“Fair enough.” She produced another dagger from some hiding place and slapped it into Ash’s hand. “I’ll be right back. If he moves, stick him.”

Ash stared at the dagger in his hand. “Actually, I have my own—” he began, but she was gone.

First things first. He pulled on his breeches, then stuck Lila’s dagger into the sheath hidden in the waistline. Dropping to his knees, he dug in the first assassin’s bag and retrieved his amulet, sliding the chain back around his neck. He palmed the jinxpiece, feeling the welcome flow of the magical energy called flash. All he had was what was stored in the pendant—he’d been completely stripped of power. It would take a while to recover.

Using his amulet, Ash kindled the lamp next to his bed. He pulled a cloth bandage from his healer’s kit and wrapped it snugly around his arm, using his teeth in place of a second hand. A more thorough search of the assassin’s carry bag turned up a traveler’s edition of the Book of Malthus, a few religious charms, two more runed blades, a stoppered bottle, and a wadded-up cloth.