Wolf's-own: Weregild (53 page)

Jacin's gut roiled.

Xari looked calmly enraged. Jacin couldn't decipher it, so he didn't try.

"
Where is my mother
?” he snarled, one last time, and he twirled his knives to make that clear.

Yakuli laughed this time—
laughed
—and shook his head. “Do you really think I
know
? Did you suppose she had some special import for me? That she was somehow more than all of my other children, merely because she is special to
you
?"

Yes, Jacin supposed he had.

"She is one Jin among hundreds,” Yakuli went on, almost sneering now. “She is clean. She is cared for. She will live longer than perhaps even you will, and her magic is being used as it ought, not hidden away in a prison camp and wasted on one who has neither the wit nor will to use it. You should be thanking me. I have done more for the Jin and their magic than the Ancestors and the gods combined since before the Binding War.” He grinned again, dipping his head on an ironic bow. “And I thank you for bringing the possible value of the Untouchable to my attention. I don't believe I would have thought of it, had the little lost Ghost not been so... persistent in his want for his mother."

Mocking. Taking because he could. Withholding because it amused him, and threatening to take even more.

And Xari was just
standing
there.

It wasn't right. It wasn't fucking
fair
.

Jacin couldn't decide which one to go for first, but he had two hands, after all, so he went for both of them at once. He lunged in, blades twirling horizontal, aiming for quick double-decapitation—let them try to use their magic to fix
that
—but they were both too fast. Shadows swirled around them, and they were both suddenly behind him. Jacin spun, brought his knives up in defense. Xari didn't move on him, just stood there and watched, but Yakuli drove in with a hard fist to the side of Jacin's head that set him staggering. Fucking shadows.

Shit. He hadn't thought of that. And he didn't have Malick's ring to fight back in kind.

He wheeled around again, a little off balance, his head humming so loud it almost drowned out the Ancestors. Furious, he raised his knives again, and again, Yakuli was gone in a swirl of shadows. This time, Jacin spun around and aimed for the empty space behind him, but Yakuli apparently didn't use the same tricks twice—he rematerialized right back where he'd started and nailed Jacin again, this time in the temple.
Go with the impact, don't resist it, don't try to absorb it, you'll take less damage that way
—Samin's voice, steadily instructive, somewhere in the back of Jacin's head. He followed the advice without thought, yet still, it was all Jacin could do to keep his feet. He reached for the frame of a bunk, clung.

"Told you, I did,” Xari snapped, then took Yakuli by the collar like a recalcitrant child and shook him. “Mortals with your foolish attempts to finesse and beguile with all the cunning of a gullible newborn.
Told
you, did I not? You cannot touch the Untouchable.” She turned her glare on Jacin. “He bargains with what he does not have,” she told him. “He cannot give you your mother back, this you know. But he can take more than you can give and keep your mind.” She shoved Yakuli away. “A trade. A
true
bargain. Take your brothers and go, take Kamen with you, and I will place your mother in the pyre myself. You don't know what I've seen, child. You don't know what Kamen will forf—"

"
Lie
,” Jacin growled. He gave his head a bit of a shake to try and clear it, but his vision was doubling. Smoke curled into his nose, down his throat, and he tried to keep himself from choking on it, tried to keep himself from panicking when the other end of the hut suddenly went up in a great
whoosh
of flames and the walls collapsed outward. “All you know is self-interest and betrayal,” he sneered at Xari, then he pushed himself away from the bunk and stood straight. “Come a little closer, and I'll show you what happens to those who betray me."

Raven's duplicity Wolf will not be thwarted

Xari's eyes narrowed. Jacin had no idea if it was a giveaway on her part or instinct on his. He spun again, slashed at darkness, almost giddy with satisfaction when Yakuli barked a curse. His voice was edged, brittle with pain. He solidified a few feet away from Jacin, his arm bleeding and rage twisting his face. Jacin snorted, head still a little light, knees still a little weak, but the look on the man's face—surprise, affront, indignant anger—Jacin had to laugh. He couldn't help it.

the one the only one listen always listen our boy we've chosen

Enraged, Yakuli swirled into shadow, came up at Jacin's left and leveled a solid blow to his kidney then whirled away again. Gasping now, the snorts more like animal grunts, Jacin tried to turn, came up short when Yakuli was there again. This time, an elbow smashed into Jacin's jaw. Sweet copper exploded in his mouth, and his head throbbed with
noisepainvoicesrage
. Jacin swung wild, knife flashing out from his hand. Aiming for the throat and only getting a good gouge down the side of Yakuli's face. The yelp of pain was satisfying, but Jacin had stupidly left himself open for a ruthless thump to the ribs in payment, and it took his breath.

Again, he lashed out, felt one blade sink home somewhere, but he couldn't tell where. More shadows, too fast to track, then his head was yanked back by the braid, so hard and quick he felt the heat of strained joints and tendons burning up behind his jaw. He had perhaps a second and a half to register the smoke gathering in great, thick clouds at the ceiling. He jammed an elbow back, hoping to hit ribs, before Yakuli's fist again eclipsed his vision. Jacin managed somehow to keep his feet when everything went black for a second, managed not to sway when the pain finally hit him and made him wonder if Yakuli hadn't actually taken off the top of his head.

And all the while, he managed to keep slashing, keep swinging, keep whirling until he made himself dizzy. His knives missed more often than they hit, but they
were
hitting, and he had to be doing
some
damage. Not nearly as much as Yakuli was doing to him, but at least Jacin wasn't bleeding yet, and he knew Yakuli was. He couldn't get a long enough look at Yakuli to confirm it, but the blood on the edges of Jacin's knives told him so.

Once again, his braid was gripped, yanked, only this time, Yakuli used it as a tether and swung Jacin headfirst into a wooden bunk. Jacin's chest and face took the brunt as the bunk shattered beneath him and he went to the floor amidst a pile of kindling. It took him a few seconds longer than was healthy for him to get to his feet again.

Too strong, too fast. Jacin had taken out a maijin, had held his own with a
Temshiel
who made it a pastime to fight dirty, and this man who couldn't even use magic against him was beating the shit out of him. It was ironically fucking hilarious.

the one the only one listen always listen our boy we've chosen

Chosen.

Chosen

It was too fucking funny.

He laughed when Yakuli's sweeping kick took his legs out from under him. Laughed some more when Yakuli's hands on the back of his coat—Malick's coat... where the fuck was Malick?—lifted him back up and pulled the coat down so his arms were clumsily pinned to his sides. Jacin had lost a knife somewhere, and he couldn't even get his vision under enough control to look around for it, but he gripped the other more tightly, slashed out blind. Reeling, he wheezed out a truncated snort when another blow landed on his temple and his vision blacked again. He was on his knees on the floor, the coat half-on and half-off, when it came back again, and he dragged himself up, coughing through the chuckles as smoke filled his lungs and took all the breath he'd managed to get back.

the one the only one listen always listen our boy we've chosen

"Stop it!” Yakuli growled. “Stop fighting. I need you alive, boy, but I don't need you undamaged."

Jacin couldn't. Couldn't stop fighting, couldn't stop laughing because he couldn't stop fighting, even though he knew he'd already lost. He'd finally lost it. He was standing here—well, wobbling—in the middle of Yakuli's compound, on a mission to put his mother's soul to rest, the walls on fire and spreading to the part of the roof that hadn't collapsed yet, right over his head, and his sanity was finally dripping from him like so much wax from a high-wicked candle.

chosen our boy only say it once

Because they'd
chosen
. All these years, all the madness splitting his head, his self, and
this
was what the Ancestors had chosen. He wasn't even really surprised—after all, they were even more insane than he was.

Abomination
, his father told him, and Jacin snorted some more, wheezed, “Yeah, I know,” and he watched as Caidi only shook her head and gave him a sad smile.

He was still laughing when Yakuli drew the shadows in once more and came barreling at him. The force hit Jacin in the chest, pounding all the air out of his lungs. Like he was a giddy twig in a hurricane, Jacin flew through the burning reed walls and slammed to his back in the grass. Small flames crept all around him, burning through Malick's coat and singeing his skin before he could gather the wits to thump them out. Yakuli drew two long swords from the scabbards at his sides and went to shadow again. Jacin just kept laughing.

Malick couldn't chance going to spirit to get himself and Joori up the hill. There was too much going on, too much magic flying around, and it was hard enough to make them cooperate when they weren't so distracted. So he ran, dragging Joori after him, and when the guards were too thick of an obstacle, they ran veiled.

He knew when Shig disobeyed his orders and abandoned her position just outside Yakuli's gates, because he felt the shift in focus, felt her intentions. Even had he not approved, he wouldn't have argued with her, because she wouldn't have listened. And anyway, the whole point of what she'd been doing had been rendered moot by that fire at the prisoners’ barracks, so leaving her out there idle would be a waste.

The whole fucking thing had been a waste. Plan—
ha
! It would have been bloody
beautiful
, if everything had stayed on track, but it had all depended on timing, and Malick's timing had always been shit. No, not just shit—a great big steaming pile of it. Only this time, it had been Fen's fault, and Malick firmly intended to let him know all about it when he saw him again. If Fen had just waited another two hours....

Your friends at the gates are following me
, Shig told him.

Malick just rolled his eyes.
Ignore them. As long as they don't get in the way, I don't give a flying fuck what they do.
He supposed he should be grateful—he knew at least Tatsu was taking the risk so he could keep an eye on Malick, make sure he didn't do anything stupid—but everything about this plan had just turned stupid, and Malick wasn't going to be pleased if someone else came along and made it stupider.
Get everyone with you up to the prisoner barracks,
he told Shig.
Use whatever you have to use to get Yakuli's men out of your way, but double-time it. Everything's going to shit way too fast.

And he just
knew
it was somehow Fen's doing.

Sure, Mal
, was all he got back.

"Are those....?” Joori slowed beside Malick, huffing and blowing as he squinted up to the top of the rise. “Malick, what the hell
is
that?"

Malick followed his glance, knowing, but even knowing didn't stop his stomach from turning over when he actually
saw
. “What d'you think?” he snapped at Joori, his voice strained, and not just from exertion. “It's your brother trying to take on the world all by himself again."

Joori jerked back, as though Malick had struck him, his gaze going a bit wild. “Is that... is he...?"

Malick didn't know what Joori couldn't finish, and he didn't have time to wonder. His attention was nailed to the two figures silhouetted by flames atop the rise. And then completely arrested by something else altogether.

"Fucking
shit
!” Malick snarled as he grabbed hold of Joori's arm again and shoved him back into a run, up toward the fifty or more armed men making their way steadily toward the spot where the two figures whirled and clashed. More flames flared on the other side of them—another barracks going up—and Malick's heart tripped up into his throat when he saw the lean figure of Fen stumble backward, almost falling into the fire before he caught his balance again.

Subie growled again, louder this time, and the ground shook, harder than before, harder even than when it had been Joori. Malick spared a glance up toward the mountain, small puffs of smoke belching from its peak and silhouetted by Wolf. It might have been portentous, or even picturesque, under different circumstances, but Malick didn't have the time.

"Oh, no,” Joori wheezed, than screamed, “
Jacin
!” and doubled his pace, running through guards who were too busy trying to figure out what was going on to snatch for him or try to stop him. Joori barreled through and knocked them aside like he didn't even see them. Malick reached out, snapped his veil down around Joori, stopping him, and then down around himself so he could get close enough to assess the situation before he barreled in too.

Coming up behind you, Mal
, Shig told him, and went silent again. Malick watched Yakuli point downward.
And you've got at least fifty coming at you,
he sent back,
and they're all charmed
. He was selfishly relieved that Yakuli's men would be concentrating on Shig and her band, instead of outnumbering Fen. Malick just stared as Husao rushed down past him and toward Shig. Finally moved to help, maybe? Still merely watching it all for his own weird entertainment? Malick didn't really care, so long as he stayed out of Shig's way.
Husao's on his way down
, he told her, then he shoved it all away, because Shig had Malick's magic, and her own little army at her back—Shig could take care of herself, but Fen....