Sword and Shadow (23 page)

You refuse to answer, or lie to me, you die.”

He kicked out and struck something hard. He seemed to float for a moment, then his back struck the cobblestones with an impact that rattled his teeth. He slashed wildly with his fist at the shadow that appeared above him and found himself jerked to his feet. He was spun around and slammed face-first back into the now familiar wall, his arm bent painfully behind his back. The voice murmured in his ear. “You’ve proven your manhood. By continuing to fight, you waste your energy and my time, and I have no patience left for it. Do you want to live, or are you tired of breathing? It would be easy enough for me to snatch another of you off the street.”

“What do you want?” the soldier hissed, sagging in defeat. The rough brick façade scraped at his cheek and he whimpered.

“I want to know where Goban is.”

“His estate. He’s at his estate.”

“See? Was that so hard? Where’s his estate?”

The man told him in a series of gasping breaths, tears streaming down his cheeks as the alley behind him filled with human figures with the faces of beasts.

One of them, a human in the midst of all those monsters, spoke a single word. “Raven!”

The vampire turned without releasing his captive and saw Morrigan approaching. “What’s going on?” he asked her.

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She shook her head. “Damned if I know. That ship is firing on the city.”

Raven nodded. “I’d figured that out for myself. Why didn’t you stop it?”

“It’s warded too tightly for me to get aboard,” she answered tersely.

“Raven, this doesn’t make sense. At first I thought it was a Church ship, coming with reinforcements, but the Church wouldn’t fire on their own keep, would they?”

“Not likely,” he said. “I think we’ve got another player in the game. I found out where Goban is. I’m willing to bet Val’s there too. Unless you all want to fight for the city, it’s time you got the hell out of here.”

“What about him?” She nodded past him to the sobbing man still pinned to the wall.

Raven shrugged. “He’ll have to take his chances with the rest of them. Bryon!”

“Right here.” The younger vamp materialized from the shadows.

Raven quickly gave him directions to Goban’s estate. “I’m trusting you to do what it takes. Take the cats and wolves out of the city—find Goban’s estate and sit tight. We’ll be along shortly.”

“What are you going to do?” Bryon asked, glancing between them. His reluctance to leave them behind was obvious.

“We’re going to find out who’s on that ship,” Raven answered. “I doubt their plan is to level the city from there. They’re just softening it up before landfall. When they disembark and head for shore, they’re going to find us waiting for them.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Bryon observed.

“Probably is,” Morrigan growled, glaring at Raven. “Not to mention unnecessary.”

“Aren’t you curious?” Raven returned her glare blandly.

“I can live with not knowing,” she told him. “Don’t you want to rescue Val? It seems silly to waste time with this when you could be heading for Goban’s place right now.”

He shook his head. “She’d do the same thing if she were in my place.

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Church, and I don’t think it’s the Cen. This may be our best chance to find out who’s behind it.”

She grimaced, but didn’t argue.

“Go!” Raven snapped at Bryon. “Get out of here before things get too hot to make it through the gates. Now!”

Bryon nodded, motioned to the hybrids, and they all vanished into the night. “I think you’re being all noble and stupid again,” Morrigan told Raven, once they’d left.

“Maybe. But I
do
have a job to do. I can’t forget that a major part of that job is keeping an eye open for potential threats to
our
Earth and Starhaven.”

“And you think
this
is one of those threats?”

“It could be. We won’t know until we check it out.”

Their discussion was interrupted by a shout, and the sound of rapidly approaching boots. A squad of about six Church soldiers came charging down the alley toward them. Raven, remembering he still had the man pinned to the wall, released him and stepped away. The guard slid down the bricks, sobbing like a broken child.

“Step away from the soldier,” the leader commanded. At least Raven assumed he was the leader, since he was the one with the plumed hat and the big voice.

“Go away,” Raven told him. “Your man is fine. None of you will survive the night if you don’t find someplace else to be…right now.”

I’ve really got to work on my threats
, he thought, as they drew their weapons and attacked.
They just don’t work well against these guys.

They’re too goddam stupid.

A few seconds later, amidst a pile of bruised and broken bodies, he and Morrigan exchanged glances once again. “Impressive,” he said.

Someone groaned.

“I was about to say the same to you,” she replied. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“My friend Ben,” he told her. “Well, he got me started. I picked up the rest of it along the way. You weren’t half bad yourself.”

“Thanks. Shall we head for the pier?”

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He answered her with a nod and took off at a jog. She followed on his heels.

Near as he could tell, the ship had only fired three or four shots into the city. One had been aimed at the Mayor’s house, another at the Church’s keep, and the others seemed to be placed at random, just to cause widespread panic.

When they arrived at the waterfront, they saw a boat being lowered over the side of the ship. “I knew it,” Raven muttered.

“Okay. So you were right,” Morrigan admitted. “What’s it get us?”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

Once the boat was lowered to the water, they could see a handful of men swarm over the side and descend by way of a rope ladder. Then, once everyone had apparently disembarked the larger vessel, the boat turned and headed their direction.

The smaller craft was warded as well, Raven noted sourly after switching to magesight. Whoever these people were, they weren’t taking any chances.

It seemed unlikely, considering that most of the piers were currently empty, but the boat was heading straight for them. Raven glanced over and saw a feral smile flick across Morrigan’s face. Once things were moving along, her initial reluctance completely disappeared. The woman was so transparent. She enjoyed a good fight
far
too much to take a pass on the opportunity to kick some ass.

He wrapped them in shadows and they waited.

The landing party came ashore in a smaller, oar driven vessel the crew might have normally used to ferry goods or passenger from the larger ship. As the boat kissed the dock piling, one of its passengers leaped off to tie it off.

Eight men climbed up from the boat to the pier, and stood in a small group while a ninth barked orders. He spoke English, which was weird, but fortunate.

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He was short, squat, and powerfully built—probably only a few inches above five feet, but most likely weighing in at nearly two hundred pounds. Raven had only met one man as squat as this one, and his first thought was that the resemblance was uncanny.

“Leave the civilians alone,” he was saying. “Take out every soldier you can find. I want this city in our hands by daybreak.”

“Does he look like anyone you know?” Morrigan asked in a whisper.

Raven nodded. “Except for the face, he looks a lot like Deryk Shea,”

he said, referring to one of Morrigan’s fellow immortals, and one of the most powerful figures on Earth Prime.

“That’s what I was thinking. He might be a doppelganger. Just because Deryk won’t bother to change his ugly mug doesn’t mean that all his variants feel the same way.”

“This is bad, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely. I’m not sure either of us can go up against him and not get our asses handed to us.”

“I’ve got the crystal sword,” he reminded her. “That’s gotta be worth something.”

“Only if you hit him with it,” she told him. “Deryk’s probably the best hand-to-hand fighter who’s ever lived. And if this doppelganger’s the one I
think
it is, he’s also the most ruthless bastard in the metaverse.”

“So then what?” Raven asked her. “We just slink away and let them do whatever they’re going to do?”

“I’m not sure we have a choice,” she answered. “Shhh.”

The leader lifted his head and peered into the shadows where they crouched, brow furrowing as if he’d somehow been alerted to their presence.

The original Deryk Shea was more or less immune to magic, the powers of other immortals, and vampiric talents as well. Raven wasn’t sure if his immunity would extend to something passive like his own power. It didn’t actively engage the man at all, so his immunity might not come into play. Or so Raven hoped.

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This seemed to be the case. Deryk’s doppelganger shrugged and turned his attention back to his minions. “What are you waiting for?” he barked. “Get moving!”

“We might not be able to do anything about
him
,” Raven mused aloud. “But his lackeys are something else entirely.”

She nodded. “They’re splitting up. How about you take one group and I’ll take the other. Meet back at the old base in about an hour?”

“Sounds like a plan. See you then.” He waited for her to leave and faded himself. Since he didn’t know if any of the doppelganger’s thugs were mages—it was a pretty good bet, considering the wards on the ship and long boat—he didn’t summon a thread and leave via transit tube. He just jogged silently into the darkness, dragging a cloak of shadows around himself as he did so. Things had just gotten
very
interesting, and despite himself, he was intrigued as he’d ever been. All they had to do was catch one of these buggers and find out what the hell was going on and he’d be able to get out there to rescue Val.

He was
not
going to feel guilty about not heading out there immediately. Just not going to.

At least you’ll keep telling yourself that until you believe it, right?

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Chapter Twenty-seven

Val lifted her head as she felt someone approach the door to her cell.

Goban’s voice boomed outside, echoing through the small room. “I’m going to shove a blindfold through the slot,” he told her. “I want you to put it over your eyes. Don’t try to get clever. If we think you can see, my comrade has orders to shoot you down on the spot.”

She heard the rattle of the narrow slot through which they shoved her food and crawled over, grabbing a length of fabric and obediently tying it around her eyes. “Okay,” she called out. At least she was finally getting out of this cell. She had one hell of a lot better chance to escape once out there than she did in here, blindfolded or not.

She felt three men in the hall as the door was opened and rough hands hauled her to her feet. She was ushered down the hall none too gingerly and, at one point, felt the edge of something cold and cylindrical pressed against the side of her neck.

Her hands were bound in front of her with a length of rope, and she heard Goban murmur orders to the other two men with them. “Take her to the carriage. Whatever you do, don’t let her take the blindfold off. If she tries, shoot her.”

“Yes, sir,” one said.

“You—come with me.”

Their boots receded down the hall as her solitary captor shoved her again. “I don’t think he cares whether you’re alive or dead,” he murmured in her ear, his breath a foul mixture of wine and rotting teeth.

She nearly gagged. “Move.”

She let him guide her with a series of hard shoves, all the way extending her mental senses to the edges of her awareness. His hand left 206

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her arm for a brief moment and she heard the sharp click of a bolt sliding. She reached out, felt him turning the knob even as his hand descended on her shoulder as if to keep her in place.

She blasted him with a mindscream, all of her pent up pain and rage focused straight into his naked, unprotected brain. She heard him grunt, felt him sag against her for an instant. She gave him a push, felt him bounce off the door, and reached up and tore the blindfold free.

Thankfully the light wasn’t too bright here in this hallway. A few torches guttered fitfully, disturbed by the air flowing from the partially opened door.

She knew if she’d pulled it off under the direct glare of the sun, she might well have been struck blind for real…at least temporarily. As her eyes swam into focus, she saw the soldier clutching at his head, the gun in his hand momentarily forgotten. She leaned back and fired a weak kick into the center of his chest, slamming him against the door.

Realizing she wasn’t physically strong enough to do him any damage, she reached out with her mind once again, this time narrowing her thoughts to a thin, hard lance and firing them straight between his eyes. He uttered a single choking cough and sank to the floor, blood running from ears and nose.

She crouched down beside him, fumbled at his belt for his dagger, which she used to cut herself free.

She felt along his neck for a pulse and wasn’t surprised to discover he was dead. She’d never been able to do anything like that before. She glanced down at the pistol beside him and, after a moment’s consideration, picked it up. If she ran into Goban again, she was going to put a hole in him.

Raven landed lightly in the street behind the advancing soldiers, moving swiftly up to flank them without attracting their notice. He strode like a ghost and yanked the last in the column from his feet before vanishing into the shadows.

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He quickly snatched the man’s weapons away, smashing them into useless bits between his hands, then stabbed him in the throat with stiff fingers to forestall any attempt to call for help. The soldier gagged and coughed and Raven waited for the discomfort to subside before tossing him against a nearby wall.

“I’m giving you a minute to catch your breath,” the vampire told him,

“and then you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here and what your boss’s goals are.”

The man’s eyes shot daggers as he struggled to breathe.

Raven smiled thinly. “Your friends
are
going to notice you’re missing soon enough. But I have no qualms about killing you and grabbing another until one of you spits out the answers I’m looking for.”

He was already moving as the soldier kicked out with a foot, obviously feeling perky enough to try to fight back. Raven slapped the foot away, slightly stunned by the power in the man’s kick. He was no ordinary human, of that he was certain.

He struck him again, this time hammering him in the sternum with enough of a jolt to toss him back into the wall and send him back into the world of trying to suck air into a suddenly uncooperative body. “Are you
shitting
me?” He reached into his duster and pulled out one of his pistols, shoving the muzzle against the man’s jaw. “You people are seriously starting to piss me off.”

The gun did the trick. The man froze, eyes suddenly pinned to Raven’s forearm—the closet point on his body to the weapon in his hand.

He couldn’t see it, but he could feel its cold bite well enough. “What is with you people?” Raven asked him. “Everybody
has
to make this difficult. What is your leader after?” He snarled this last question, baring his fangs in a rare expression of anger and frustration.

“You! He’s after you!”

“Me? You’ve gotta be kidding.” Raven pulled the weapon away and stepped back, considering. Why in the hell would Shea’s doppelganger be after him? How did he even know about him? He grunted his disgust that he’d even bothered to ask himself that last question. Of course he knew 208

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about Raven—they had evidence enough that the doppelganger and his crew of miscreants had been monitoring Earth Prime for centuries.

It was the doppelganger Shea’s philosophy that any method used to defeat the Cen were acceptable, even if most civilized folks would find it unpalatable. Neither moderation nor humanity were words that held any value in his personal ideology.

The first question still lingered, though. Why would he target Raven?

Quite unexpectedly he found himself growing increasingly concerned by this revelation. What was the doppelganger’s connection to what was going on here? Had he made contact with a rebel faction among the Cen?

The valkyrie had hinted there were things going on behind the scenes they’d be shocked to discover, but, like most of her kind, she hadn’t been particularly forthcoming with the particulars.

The soldier opened his mouth and Raven heard a deep, swift intake of breath. His fist snapped out, connecting with the side of the man’s neck.

He dropped to the ground, unconscious. This changed everything. He couldn’t afford to stay here and risk a face to face with the doppelganger, just on the off chance he’d figured out a way to capture him.

Leaving the unconscious soldier where he lay, he turned to exit the alley and found himself standing face to face with Shea and half a dozen soldiers. “Raven, I presume,” the squat immortal said dryly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Morrigan dragged her captive onto a convenient rooftop and turned him over, pulling out the impromptu gag she’d made with the sleeve of the man’s own shirt, torn from his arm when she’d first subdued him.

“Don’t yell,” she warned him. “You don’t want to know what’ll happen if you make
any
sound without my permission.”

He didn’t look nearly as frightened as she would have liked. There was a certain mocking glint in his eyes she found very troubling, especially since she’d bound him tightly before carrying him off. “What’s so funny, asshole?”

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“You’re wasting your time,” he said. “My boss has already captured your friend.”

“What?”

“The vampire. That’s why we’re here. Lord Shea has a use for him and knew an attack here and now would draw him out.”

Morrigan cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Why does he want him?”

“They say he can slip in and out of places even a stray dust mote can’t go—the boss has someone he wants killed and thinks the vamp is just the man for the job.”

“Huh. Not if I have anything to say about it.” She stuffed the gag back into the man’s mouth and peered down at him for a long moment. The casual arrogance of these people was nothing short of astounding. He hadn’t been afraid of her and, in her book, that was as bad a sign as any she could imagine.

She reached down, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him along the rooftop. Once she’d reached the other side, she casually heaved him over the edge to fall the three stories to the cobblestones below. She listened carefully and, when she heard the wet smack like a bag of watermelons hitting pavement, she turned and cast a transit tube back toward where she’d last seen Raven.

Val burst into the welcoming night and breathed a sigh of relief that she didn’t have to face the sun. She was pretty certain at this point that she would’ve run screaming back into the manor house if she had.

She crept along the outer wall, toward the front, the naked blade of the sword she’d taken from the guard cradled between her hands. She was
so
weak. It shamed her to admit it even to herself, but they’d fed her the bare necessity to keep her alive. She was spare flesh and bone now, her strong, healthy physique melted away after months of forced inactivity and a starvation diet.

Her mind, on the other hand, felt as strong as it ever had. Maybe stronger. She’d make Goban pay for this—but not before finding out what he thought he was doing. And, just perhaps, what had gotten into 210

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him. The man whom she’d sensed outside her cell upon occasion hadn’t been the one she’d first met. She couldn’t put her finger on the difference, especially considering her empathic talents hadn’t been particularly strong at that point.

She crouched on all fours and peered around the corner of the house, through the leaves of an unidentified shrub. A carriage stood in the drive, a team of horses fidgeting in harness in front of it. There was no sign of anyone but what she assumed was the driver, who was busy loading a chest on top of the carriage.

She slowly rose to her feet and edged forward, peering toward where she thought the front door would be. A second man stood there, watching the driver with a distracted air. Beyond him several yards away she saw a couple of saddled horses tied to a post and straining against their reins in a vain attempt to graze on the grass beneath their feet.

She took the corner at a run, hoping her legs wouldn’t give way as she sprinted toward the guard at the door. He turned and saw her at the last second, but she’d already raised the sword and run him through before he could cry out. She yanked the blade from his ribcage and spun away from the falling body, eyes leaping to the driver. He hadn’t noticed her yet, she realized; he was too busy securing the chest to the carriage roof.

She flicked the blood off the sword and raced for the horses. She slowed as she reached them, clucking softly to keep from panicking the beasts. She slid to a halt, quickly untied the reins and vaulted onto one horse’s back, hissing in frustration when she realized the stirrups were too long for her.

She didn’t have time to adjust them, so she leaned down, pulled them up, and, tearing a strip of cloth from her ragged shift, tied them together across the top of the saddle. She wrapped the reins around her left hand, retrieved the rapier from the post, and kicked the beast into motion.

A shout rose up behind her and she heard the unmistakable sound of a shot ringing out, but she didn’t dare look behind her. She sent the horse galloping up the drive, racing through the chilly night with her heart thudding in her throat.

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Morrigan reached the alley mouth and found the shattered remains of seven soldiers, broken and cast about like neglected toys. There was no sign of Raven. She cursed under her breath. She didn’t know
how
they’d managed to capture the vampire, but it appeared as though they had.

A boot scraped against cobblestone and she spun, sword leaping into her hand. A waif stood there at the alley mouth, staring at her with wide eyes. Grubby and disheveled, she couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl.

“I saw them take him,” the urchin said. “They went back to their ship.”

“They did, did they?”

The waif nodded. “I followed them. I know Raven. He’s given me food before. I was worried about him.”

Morrigan caught herself smiling slightly at that. Raven
would
give food to a street rat, wouldn’t he? She glanced down at the kid’s feet and frowned. Most of the street kids here didn’t wear any shoes at all, but this boy had a rather nice pair of boots on. Another gift from Raven?

Perhaps. She seemed to remember him saying something about the kids being practically invisible, and occasionally using them as his eyes and ears. It would be just like Raven to reward them well for their service.

The sound of more boots coming their direction jerked her head up.

Too late. A squad of city watchmen sprinted around the corner, pinning them in the glare of a lantern. “Stay where you are!” a voice boomed.

The hell I will,
she thought. She reached out and pulled the child behind her, lifting her sword warningly. “I’m
really
not in the mood for this,” she said.

“Take them,” said the leader, and the squad fanned out to block the alley mouth. They advanced slowly, cautiously, but with obvious determination.

“You’re making a mistake!” Morrigan snapped. “These are the invaders—and it wasn’t me who killed them.”

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“Tell it to the magistrate,” the watch-sergeant growled. “I’m sure he’ll be very interested to hear your story.”