Promise of Blood

They made it up the stairs to the third floor, the Hielmen dogging their heels. They started up for the fourth floor when the popping sound of air rifles filled the air. It was a sound to chill a Marked’s blood, for a Marked knew that shot was meant for him.

Vlora stumbled on the stairs and fell. Taniel, farther up the stairs, leapt to her in an instant, sliding the ring bayonet over the end of his rifle and meeting the Hielmen’s charge with a silent snarl. His bayonet sliced a Hielman’s neck with the quick, easy motion of a trained butcher. He dodged to one side of a bayonet thrust and grappled with another Hielman. The man was a hand taller than him and at least three stone more. Taniel brought up the butt of his rifle in a blow savage enough to put the Hielman’s nose into his brain. The soldier dropped without a sound. Tamas felt a thrill watching his son fight. Taniel Two-Shot he might be, but he had the brutal hand-to-hand skills of an infantryman.

Taniel swung toward the four remaining Hielmen, ready to charge.

“Taniel!” Tamas barked, “Fall back!” He picked Vlora up. Deep in a powder trance, her body seemed to weigh nothing at all. She gritted her teeth against the pain. “Did it hit a bone?” Tamas asked.

She shook her head.

Tamas heard a pop and felt the bullet graze his left shoulder, missing Vlora’s head by inches. Tamas turned around only to look down the length of an air rifle, the bayonet coming toward his gut fast.

He transferred Vlora’s weight to one arm and drew his pistol and shot from the hip, dropping the Hielman dead from a bullet through the eye.

By the time Tamas reached the fifth floor, the last few Hielmen lay dead on the stairs. Tamas and his men assessed their wounds. Olem had a number of new cuts—they’d need stitching, but nothing more. Vlora’s shot had glanced off her thigh. She could handle pressure on it, so the bullet had not shattered the bone, and she’d be fine. Taniel had not been touched. His face was twisted in a savage grimace as he wiped gore from the end of his bayoneted rifle. At some point Ka-peol had joined them. The red-haired girl smelled of sulfur, and her hands were black. She wiped her hands on her buckskins and smiled at Tamas when she saw him looking.

Pistol shots and the sound of steel on steel faded on the floor below. Tamas took a few deep breaths, listening to Vlora’s heart beat. They both leaned against the wall, her head on his shoulder. He stepped away from her.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs below them. A moment later Sabon appeared. He had powder marks on the cuff of his jacket and a shallow sword gash along one arm. He breathed a quick sigh of relief on seeing them all together.

“Anyone hurt?” Sabon asked.

“Minor wounds,” Tamas said. “Where were you?”

“The officers’ mess. They came out of nowhere.”

“Casualties?” Tamas asked. Anyone important?

“A few,” Sabon said. He gave a slight shake of his head at the silent question. “From the looks of things it was mostly rabble. Took us by surprise, but once we’d rallied the men, it was barely a fight. All the Hielmen came straight for you.”

“Is the House secure?”

“Working on it.”

“Enemies captured?” Tamas asked.

“We’ve taken at least two dozen without a fight. Probably another forty wounded. They’re General Westeven’s men.”

“I know.” Tamas stepped over to his son and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Well done, Taniel.”

Taniel unfixed his bayonet and put it in its case. He shouldered his rifle. One glance to Vlora and then a stiff nod to Tamas. “Back to work, sir.”

Tamas watched his son descend the stairs, followed closely by the savage girl. He felt like he should say something else. He wasn’t sure what.

“Sabon.”

“Sir?”

“Alert Lady Winceslav. Tell her we need her soldiers in the city. General Westeven holds the barricades and I’ll be damned if I send my own men to their deaths against them. The mercenaries will need to start earning their pay. Prepare me a command base near the barricades. We take the fight to him. Vlora.” He paused, considering his decision for a moment. “Go with Sabon. I want you on my staff.”

“Taniel!”

Taniel stopped on the landing and glanced back up the stairs, trying to decide whether to wait or not. He knew that voice. He didn’t want to hear anything it had to say. He nudged a body with his toe. One of the Hielmen he’d gutted with his bayonet. The man’s eyes fluttered. Still alive. He glared up at Taniel. He gritted his teeth, not making a sound, but he must have been in immense pain. Taniel debated whether to call a surgeon or to kill him. The wound was mortal. Taniel squatted next to him.

“You’ll not live out the week,” Taniel said.

“Traitor,” the Hielman whispered.

“Do you want to live another day or two, kept alive so that you can answer to Tamas’s questioners?” Taniel asked. “Or end it now?”

The man’s eyes betrayed his suffering. He remained silent.

Taniel undid his belt and folded it over, offering the end to the man. “Bite on this.”

The Hielman bit down.