Eighty Five: Hatred

She couldn't breathe. Of all the things she had been through, having someone kneeling on her throat was definitely one of the worst. Nova's nails scrabbled against the leather of her captor's boot as she tried to ease the pressure on her throat, and was rewarded for her efforts with a light jab in the side with a knife. She gasped and then choked as the pressure cut off her breath.

"You know what Lucifer does to traitors," Evangeline said from somewhere nearby. Through the black spots in her vision, Nova couldn't work out where. One of her lackeys was the one kneeling on her throat; she'd lost track of the assassin a while ago. She didn't even know if the lord was dead or not, too preoccupied with keeping herself alive. "Especially traitors to their own kind."

The knee eased down again, cutting off the little air she'd been pulling in. The bed had been a mistake; her balance had been too tenuous on the mattress, the lord's prone form too much of an obstacle. Such basic training she'd forgotten. Not that she had been given the chance to practice in the previous decade. If it hadn't been the bed, it would've been her strength that let her down.

Evangeline had dodged neatly out of the way of her swinging blade, allowing her companions to step forward and corner her while the assassin prowled like a satisfied cat in the shadows and watched. One of the others had simply dragged her off the bed by the leg, the second chivvying her off with a blade from the other side. She had tried to fight them, and had her forearms shredded for the trouble, and before she knew it she'd been tackled and pinned and now she was suffocating. No free death, and no quick death. Killed defending the owner who had abused her, by the servants of the man who had tried to kill her several times before. If she'd had any breath she would have laughed. Or perhaps sobbing would have come out instead.

Black closed in on her vision, blood pulsing tightly around her skull. The strength faded from her fingers and she felt heavy all over.

Just as she began to wind down into oblivion, the knee left her throat. Hearing returned to her in a deafening rush and her eyes and face ached with the sudden free flow of blood. She lay stunned on her back, heaving in breaths through a throat that still felt half-closed, like someone had tied a knot in it. Her slave collar lay by her face, wide open like a claw, a petty revenge. Evangeline had unlocked it deliberately. Now her sores and her cracked skin wept, a sharp high note to the ache in her throat and face.

Sounds whirled at her in conflicting waves, different tones and pitches, different volumes through the clanging in her ears. Breathing was so difficult she thought fainting might have been a mercy. She didn't dare sit up, but rolling onto her side might ease the tightness.

A boot landed hard in her midriff, and all her hard-won breath gusted from her again. She made no noise. She'd trained herself a long time ago not to give tormentors the satisfaction of her pain. She curled up tighter, protected her face with her forearms.

"Kill him, kill him quickly!" Evangeline's voice passed behind her. Footsteps, felt more as vibrations than heard. "Before they get up here!"

She smiled into the damp darkness behind her arms, but it contorted into a grimace as someone grabbed her by the hair and dragged her aside. She landed hard against something that rattled, and a book fell down off of Nika's teetering research pile and clipped her on its way down. A heavy book, bound in thick leather. If only the pain would fade so she could uncurl from around her midriff.

"Indulgence is always a mistake," she said hoarsely. The dim silhouette of Evangeline's back stiffened. It was a quote from one of the judges at her court case. Though she had never met Evangeline before, she suspected that her sister Mercy had the assassin's loyalties. Evangeline had probably witnessed the trial. "Now you will pay for it."

A clatter sounded on the stairs. One of the lackeys rushed to the door to hold it.

"Funny, though," Nova muttered, "because I seem to remember that Mercy was quite indulgent herself."

Evangeline turned.

"They're coming," the other assassin said. "We should administer the lethal dose now, mistress, before they get here, or we won't escape."

With a snarl, the Angel assassin disregarded her, plucking something from her belt.

"You're coming with us, Anarabelle," she said sweetly. A cork popped from a vial. "Lucifer does so want his niece back. And I want my revenge."

"I've done nothing to you." Nova eyed the sword lying almost under the bed near Evangeline's boot. If she moved fast enough, could she run herself through before they grabbed her? It was hardly the way she would have chosen to go, but it was an improvement on suffocating, and certainly better than dying slowly in a Caelumese prison.

"A needle in the eye?" The assassin lost her sickly sweet tone and turned again, and as she did so a needle glinted in one hand. "A knife in the side? That is the death you gave my husband? I'll have your eye for his, you rabid little bitch, and that's a promise."

A small world indeed. It felt as though ice water had pooled in her stomach, and she prayed that whatever was going on downstairs would finish faster. She was not going back to her uncle. She would not look on her sister's face again, so like her own, and see the satisfaction on it. Hope sprung up like a flame as the Angel holding the door slid to the floor with a groan, leaving a wet smear behind him. The sword poking through rasped against splintered wood as it retracted.

Evangeline shrieked. Nova stared at her, perplexed. Even cornered, a trained assassin shouldn't shriek at a death. But then she moved and revealed that Harkenn had hold of her wrist, and enough strength left to keep it still. The needle flashed as it arced through the air in her other hand, aiming for Harkenn's exposed wrist. Her wings fluttered with her outrage. Nova staggered to her feet, hefted the book, and felt a crunch as it landed. Her stomach lurched at the same time as Evangeline screamed and dropped the needle to the bedsheets where it was lost among the folds. Her own wing stumps ached with memory as blood seeped into the woman's beautiful feathers, one spine crushed and hanging limp. She whirled.

Her own companion tackled her from the side, dragging her away as Nova braced herself to be stabbed. They wrestled all the way to the window as someone began kicking down the chamber door. Nova limped over and unlocked it, and bent to try and drag the body away. Her efforts were of negligible help, as Yddris swept the door open with such force that it was raggedly dragged along with it like an abandoned doll. The Unspoken paid it no mind as he stepped over it, and Nova sank against the wall as pain and breathlessness threatened to blind her.

"My Lord, are you well?" Devon strode in, sword drawn and bloodied.

"Sort that out," Harkenn growled, gesturing at the struggle by the window. Yddris had caught the lackey by the collar of his robe and dragged him back inside, and was fending off blade attacks while trying to keep Evangeline from jumping.

"Nova." Jeorge dropped his crutch beside her and sank down with a grimace. "Thank Vestra you're alive. Elandriel's balls, what's she done to your neck?"

Speech was too much effort, so she just glared at him and then returned her gaze to the unfolding events. Rich of him to sound so concerned after all he had done. Was she expected to believe he was sincere? A fury rose in her like she'd never known before as she watched Harkenn lever himself up into a sitting position with a groan and search gingerly through the blankets for the dropped needle. Alive. He was alive, and in better condition than she was, the fool slave who had thrown herself into an assassin's path to save him. He would never give her what she had asked for. He would accept her efforts as his due, likely for 'protecting' her from her uncle.

Fuck him.

Fuck all of them.

She slapped away Jeorge's attempts at inspecting her wounds, and something in her face seemed to convince him that persisting would be unwise. He sighed, and there was pity in his eyes. She turned away from it before she stuck her fingers in them, hard.

Evangeline had wrestled the window open and a chill wind whipped around the room. Thorne stumbled through the door at that moment and pulled up short at the bizarre tableau in front of him.

"Don't get involved, boy," Yddris growled, and while he was distracted Evangeline twisted from his grip and dropped out of sight. The second Angel cried out for her to wait, but was now pinned by Devon's sword.

"What are you all staring at me for?" Harkenn demanded, when the only sound for several long seconds was breathing. "Go and find that bloody woman! She can't possibly get far!"

Two soldiers had arrived at the chamber door. Devon turned on them, pointing at each with his spare hand, "You, get the wall patrol onto finding her. You, get me a status on the battalion outside. And send someone back to get this one to the dungeons." The Angel at his feet struggled. Yddris produced a knife from somewhere and twirled it expertly around his fingers, and the Angel fell still again.

Both soldiers saluted and hurried off. Thorne seemed to shake off his shock, aura blossoming with determination. He reached inside his cloak pocket and pulled out a small vial of powder and a rolled piece of parchment. He crossed the room to the bed, where Harkenn was gingerly placing the recovered needle on his bedside table, a deep grimace of distaste on his face. He looked up as the man approached, and his eyes widened in anticipation. "You found me something?"

"I believe you've also received doses of this," Thorne said, shaking the vial. "I don't know what to do with it, I'll have to give it to Nika. This is in Caelumese, but it looks like a contract signed by Lucifer."

A skeletal hand emerged from the sheets and snatched at the objects. Thorne surrendered them without complaint; he seemed glad to be rid of them. Nova eyed the vial. She tried to get up. Every cut, every bruise protested, and her throat felt like it barely opened to give her enough breath. Jeorge pushed her back down with a firm hand. She glared at him.

He offered her a strange smile. He would have seen how she felt in her aura, but in that moment she didn't care. She suddenly felt immense regret for everything she had put herself through to save the lord, who hadn't even spared her a glance since she'd done so. He'd offered her a sword, but only because she couldn't have defended him without one. She could have escaped Evangeline once they got beyond the city limits. But no, she was still here. Of her own volition.

Feeling a dark-damned, cowardly fool.

"It was the best option," Jeorge said quietly.

She punched him in the nose.

"Don't talk to me," she growled in Caelumese. Everyone in the room was staring at them. Thorne's aura was pure astonishment, Yddris and Devon a mixture of confusion and pity. Harkenn's was simply thoughtful. Well, it was about time he remembered she existed.

"Anara, I'd prefer it if you didn't cripple my spies." He looked down at the abandoned collar that lay on the floor between them. "Yddris, next time you are in town I want three sets of clothes made and some boots. Get my tailor to take her measurements."

Yddris's surprise only lasted a moment. "With all due respect, sir, we are still barricaded into the castle by several ranks of Caelumese soldiers. General Varron has been apprehended in his rooms, but we don't have the soldiers to repel the Caelumese. They're still arriving."

"Close the gates, then!"

"They're not getting in through the gates." Yddris seemed almost reluctant to say it. "We...well, Thorne thought of it. We believe they're using portals."

"Impossible."

"Not impossible," Jeorge said slowly. Everyone turned to stare at him. He had moved a few feet from her, wiping his bloody nose on a handkerchief. "Improbable, perhaps. Lucifer has been obsessed with Nictavian magic since the first war. He's been trying to find ways to tap into Nictaven, to give them an edge if they tried again. As far as I was aware he'd had no success. When something happened at all it was a disaster, but most attempts were completely fruitless." He stopped, shaking his head in disbelief. "I would have told you a few months ago that it was impossible, but the theory fits with a lot of the problems you've been having. Including Ethred's disappearance. The city is heaving with Caelumese soldiers, my lord, and there were no alarms."

Harkenn glared at Yddris and Jeorge as if it was all their fault. Then he turned on Thorne, whose aura said he'd been fully expecting it.

"My lord, I have no idea how to close them," he said, before Harkenn could say a word. "The portal Grace and I fell through was a complete...fluke..." he trailed off.

"Or it was an experiment gone catastrophically overboard," Harkenn finished for him. Thorne didn't reply. Harkenn sighed. He looked at Devon. "Where are all our soldiers stationed?"

"Some are in the castle, others dispatched to locate Cael and Ethred and contain the plague outbreak."

"I want everyone back here. I want to squeeze them from both sides and see where they bolt to. Once we have located every portal, I will set a guard on them and contact the Unspoken Guildmaster for further assistance. Until then, scatter them. No prisoners."

Clattering announced the arrival of the soldiers Devon had sent for. Nova had almost forgotten that Devon and Yddris had another Angel pinned. By this time, Yddris was using a foot to pin down each hand, and a small packet lay beside one of them, probably something to give him a quick exit. Nova glared as they hauled the Angel to his feet, but he wasn't looking at her. It was the one who had knelt on her neck and almost killed her, and she let every ounce of that resentment show in her aura.

"Yddris." Harkenn seemed to have exhausted his surge of energy and now slumped against the pillow, looking old again. One thin hand rolled the vial between its fingers, the powder inside trickling from one side to the other. "Take Anara's chain and clip it on him, would you?"

The Angel's stoic dismissal of them cracked. He struggled between the two soldiers, trying to bat them loose with his powerful wings. Devon prodded him with the sword again, but it didn't stop him trying to bite Yddris as he approached.

Nova watched, expecting to feel some sort of vindication as her hated collar was snapped onto someone else. She didn't. She just felt hollow, and little different to how she had felt with it on. Her near-murderer wearing it didn't take away her years of slavery. All she got from the sight was a small sagging of relief that he was contained and wouldn't touch her again. She could still smell the polish of his boots. They marched him away, almost dragging him between them, Devon following after a smart salute.

"I will recall the troops, sir."

Thorne knelt down in front of her. His aura crackled with pain and disappointment, which in that moment she could greatly sympathise with. "Do you need help?"

She forced herself not to snap. Grace wouldn't like it if she snapped at her brother. Her chest loosened at the thought. Grace. She was going to see Grace again.

To her horror, tears welled in her eyes.

"Hey, hey," Thorne said, hands flapping uselessly. "Tell me what you need and I'll get it."

Harkenn was still awake. She pressed her lips together and ignored her tears. Her throat ached abominably.

"I'm going to find Nika, boy," Yddris said. "We need to identify that stuff you found and get an antidote made as soon as possible."

Thorne stood up abruptly. "But the Caelumese found that exit! They closed in on it the minute we reached it. They'll still be there."

"And I can still use a knife," Yddris said shortly. "I need you to stay with Harkenn. Stay with him and do not leave this room until Nika and I come back, do you understand me?"

"No way," Thorne said. "I need to see Grace."

"Would you rather spend your night running through a city you still barely know which is currently being overrun by plague and enemy soldiers?" Yddris growled. "No, boy. I need you to stay here for me. If Harkenn doesn't make it through this we've got no hope. Koen is with Grace. She's safe where she is."

"Bring her up here." Harkenn laboriously dragged himself back up to sitting from his slump.

"My lord, I'll have a hard enough time getting myself out, let alone..."

"You'll manage." Harkenn scowled at him, the orange in his gaze flaring with annoyance. "Get her up here. Take whatever soldiers you need to clear a path."

"Won't need soldiers," Yddris muttered. His exiting bow was stiff, but he went. Nova watched him go in consternation. She wanted nothing more than to see Grace right now, but she didn't want her dragged through an armed blockade to get her here, no matter how competent Yddris was. Thorne's aura showed a similar struggle. He took one step towards the door and then glanced back, making a small noise of frustration as he took the spot against the wall beside her that Jeorge had just vacated.

"Nerahardt, go and advise my troops as best you can on Caelumese tactics," Harkenn muttered. He had slumped further, and seemed to lack the wherewithal to get back up again. He was not as cadaverous as he had been after Nika had begun giving him the antidote, but he wasn't strong, either. Hatred and regret raged in her, and she wondered if Yddris had stationed Thorne here to protect the lord from her rather than the army. Grudgingly she admitted that it was a valid concern. Seeing him laid so low, yet so close to recovering his former status, brought out the parts of her she usually kept buried. The parts her uncle had made in her.

"I'm putting up your allowance, boy," the lord mumbled, when they were finally alone. The lord and the two whose lives he'd ruined. She wondered if Thorne would stop her if she tried. He wouldn't help...but he might not stop her. "You've done well for me today."

Before Thorne could say anything, the lord's awareness faded. Asleep or unconscious. More likely the latter.

The two of them sat in silence for a long moment. Thorne grunted and shifted position. "Sitting down was a mistake."

Up close, he smelled of blood and dust. "Are you injured?"

"I got hit." Lowering to a grunt, "Cael."

Her lip curled almost of its own volition. She hoped Cael got caught in the crossfire, the cause of so many sleepless nights. Thorne straightened where he sat.

"Cael said the lord had signed something. Probably while you weren't here. Any ideas where it would be?"

"If Cael didn't take it with him, then it'll be in one of the locked bookcases in the study," Nova said, watching Harkenn's chest rise and fall. "He keeps the key in the desk drawers, but he's never shown me where he keeps the drawer keys."

"Will Brillan have a copy?"

"I doubt it. I'm not certain, though."

"I'll ask." He turned to leave.

"No." The word fell out of her mouth like a dropped stone. He stared at her, and she didn't need his aura to tell his incredulity. "Don't leave me here alone."

Her meaning took a comically slow time to register with him, and when it did she almost felt him recoil. The muscles of her lips twitched but she could not manage a smile.

"When Grace gets here then," he said.

Rising, and then falling again. She thought of her stash in the kitchen wall, the pitiful collection of coins and trinkets she had acquired over the years. She hadn't checked it in a long time, not since Grace arrived. She wondered how far it would get her, out there.

She nodded. "When Grace gets here."

She brushed the sores on her neck with light fingers as he sat back down beside her. They still stung.

Downstairs, someone began pounding on the castle doors.

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Regards,

Elinor (S E Harrison)