Darkfall. Janice Hardy

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      Glass shattered behind me, then hot pain pierced my back.

Chapter Four

      I yelped and dived forward, away from whatever had clawed me. I hit the floor, but something else landed beside me. Small, and it moved, skittering back towards the doors. It snagged on the doorframe but broke through and caught on the balcony rail.

      A second grappling hook.

      “Aylin, get out of here!” I scrambled back to my feet as the first intruder kicked open the doors. More glass cracked, and a piece grazed my arm. It didn’t sting nearly as much as my back.

      “Leave her alone!” Something flew past me. Was that a chair? Wood cracked against flesh and a man grunted. Aylin leaped from the bed, the blankets in her hands. She tackled the man and tangled him in the cloth, knocking him down.

      The second man charged in and kicked her. Aylin cried out and flew back with an oomph. She slammed into the mirror, and glass shattered. I lunged at him, hands out, looking for flesh. I grabbed sleeves instead.

      Skin, skin, I needed skin.

      We struggled, my back stinging. He twisted and his arm slid back, down, then – skin.

       Got you.

      I pushed, the pain surging up through my shoulder and out my hands. He sucked in a pained breath and staggered back, tripping over his partner and sending them both back to the floor.

      Light brightened the room, and I squinted, turning away. “Aylin?”

      The lamp on the desk next to her was turned up full, all the shutters open. “I’m OK,” she said, but she didn’t sound OK. She also had one arm pressed against her side.

      The door to our room burst open. Aylin screamed and I pivoted, readying myself to dive at whoever was attacking us now.

      Danello stood in the door wearing nothing more than sleeping britches and his rapier. He moved in fast, putting himself between us and the two men who were now back on their feet and holding weapons of their own. A knife for one, a short sword for the other.

      Sword-man attacked, thrusting the blade at Danello. He parried it, the scratchy ziinng! of metal against metal raising the hair on my arms. Knife-man hung back, his face tight with pain. He had to be the one I had shifted into.

      “Go find Jeatar,” I said to Aylin, nudging her towards the door.

      She ignored me and grabbed a statue of a prancing horse off the desk. She threw it at Knife-man. He gasped and dodged sideways. Agile, but not as surefooted as Danello. Nor as graceful as Aylin. Who in Saea’s name were these men?

      Both had dark hair, but they didn’t look like Baseeri soldiers. Well-made clothes, good boots. Clean-shaven, so not refugees. Trackers? Aristocrat guards?

      Danello fought Sword-man while Aylin kept throwing whatever she could grab at the other. I scurried past Danello to the other side of the room, where there was more to throw. I flung a water pitcher. It glanced off his head and dented the wall.

      Danello lunged forward, piercing Sword-man’s leg. He screamed and went down on one knee. Danello stabbed at the other leg, and he collapsed.

      Fast steps thudded in the hall outside our room, many feet racing up stairs. Guards in brown uniforms stormed in, swords drawn. Sword-man rolled over and held out both hands, fury on his face. Knife-man ran back towards the balcony. Danello and the guards followed, but he was over the side and sliding to the ground before they could grab him.

      “You got this one?” one of the guards asked Danello, tilting his head towards Sword-man on the floor.

      “Yeah.”

      The guards turned and ran out of the room. Danello stood over Sword-man, the tip of the rapier hovering above his throat.

      “Don’t even think about moving,” he said. “Why did you break in here?”

      Sword-man just glared.

      “Are you OK?” Danello asked me without looking away.

      “I’m fine.” My heart felt like it was about to thump out of my chest, and I wasn’t sure my knees were going to keep me standing, but both would pass.

      “Aylin? Are you all right?”

      “I think so.” She was still holding her side.

      “I think not.” I hurried over, took her hand, and felt my way in. “Two broken ribs.”

      She grimaced. “No wonder it hurt so much to throw those things.”

      I drew, mending her ribs. Mine started aching.

      “You’re really handy to have around, you know that?”

      “Nya?” Jeatar slid to a stop outside the door, two steps ahead of Onderaan. Men with armour and swords were right behind them. Two came in and hauled Sword-man to his feet, then out the door. I don’t think his boots even touched the ground. Jeatar didn’t say where they were taking him but the scowl on Jeatar’s face said I really didn’t want to know.

      Jeatar looked us over, his scowl turning to worry as he took in my ripped nightshirt and the blood smeared on my arm. “Who’s hurt?”

      “I was, but not any more,” Aylin said. “But there’s a man with a knife out there who’s probably not happy.”

      “We’ll find him, don’t worry.” Jeatar looked like he hadn’t been to bed yet, but Onderaan kept rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking out on one side. He came over and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, pretending he was Papa.

      Jeatar stayed by the door. I’d never seen him look so scared before. Or so mad. Hopefully the mad part wasn’t at me.

      “Tell me what happened,” he said.

      “Someone tried to kill Nya!” Aylin described the whole thing, yelling and waving her arms. She was scared too.

      “We’ll post guards outside,” Onderaan said softly, patting my hand. “No unauthorised visits to the house.”

      “OK. Thank you.”

      I took a deep breath and looked at the broken mirror. Dozens of my own face stared back at me from the jagged glass. I turned and checked my back. A new scar ran along my shoulders, worse than the ones on my legs and chest.

      Shifting was different from healing. I had time to think about the wound when I healed, and make sure it closed properly. With shifting, I didn’t think about it, I just did it. I’d shifted into so many. The prison guard. The foundry soldiers. The Undying.

      And every shift had left its scar.

      Jeatar moved us to a room with no windows at the centre СКАЧАТЬ