Page 125 of City of Stone and Silence

“What?” She turns to me, blinks.

“Run!”

We start running, what was supposed to be an orderly retreat turning into a rout. I stick close to Jakibsa and Giniva, with Hotara and Grego himself following close behind, along with a few red sashes. The group running alongside us splits as the alley divides, then splits again, individual fighters breaking off to try for safety on their own. The Sixteenth Ward seems horribly empty around us, even the semblance of life now gone.

Our small group pulls up short where the alley empties into a larger street. My chest feels like it’s on fire, and Grego is panting hard. Hotara sinks against the wall with a sigh.

“Lost them,” she says. “Okay. If we turn left and try for—”

But I’m looking behind us, Kindre senses open, and I can still feel the tendrils reaching out for me.

“They’re coming.” I sound like a scared little girl. “They’re following me. The rest of you—”

Blue bands of force shimmer into existence around two of the red sashes at the back of the group, yanking them off their feet and into the nearest wall with bone-cracking force. The three Immortals come around the corner, practically strolling, barely twenty yards away. More Tartak force lashes out at us, but this time Jakibsa responds, and a shifting mêlée of blue light plays out between us in a shimmer of sparks. He grunts, hands raised, and shifts back half a step.

The Melos adept ignites her blades and charges. The closest rebel draws her sword, but takes a sizzling energy blade to the gut before she can swing it. Grego goes at the Immortal with a roar, swinging a heavy club two-handed. It bounces off her shoulder in a coruscating shower of green sparks, and she brings both blades up in a scissorlike motion that separates his head from his body and sends it spinning across the alley.

“Go!” Hotara says, drawing her sword. “Run!”

I’m past arguing. I grab Giniva and Jakibsa and drag them after me, Jakibsa stumbling, still keeping up his fight with the Immortal Tartak adept. I can’t help but look over my shoulder, though, and I watch as Hotara and the Melos adept exchange a few blows. The Immortal deigns to parry, her energy blade carving notches in Hotara’s sword, until the steel finally loses the unequal contest and snaps in two. Hotara stares at the broken weapon for a moment, which is a moment too long. The adept spears her through the chest, the spitting tip of the energy weapon emerging between Hotara’s shoulders.

Hotara mouths something, blood trickling over her lips. Then she slumps against the other woman, hands convulsively clutching at the Immortal’s chain veil. She drags the Melos adept’s helmet free as she slumps to the ground, and I look on the face of my pursuer, the creature from my nightmares.

It’s not Isoka. Of course it isn’t. This is an older woman, her hair dead white and cut short, one cheek dark with a bubbling scar from a close encounter with Myrkai fire. She doesn’t bother to retrieve her helmet and veil, only waves to her fellows to come after us, as we duck around the corner of an alley and out of sight.

It’s not my private demons we’re running from. It’s Kuon Naga and his minions. I knew that, of course I knew it, but—

Focus, Tori!

We’re sprinting down a maze of tiny alleys, the complicated labyrinth that makes up most of the Sixteenth Ward. Somewhere ahead—too far ahead—is the gate leading to the Eleventh Ward, where allies are waiting. But the Kindre user behind us can track me—I can feel him—and they’re steadily gaining. Jakibsa may be a match for their Tartak adept, but we can’t stop their Melos user, and I’m less than useless, a stitch in my side already cutting like a dagger at every step.

For a moment I consider telling the others to go on without me. I have a knife. I can shove it into my breast before Naga’s henchmen catch us. Better to die than whatever he has in store, surely—but I know, even as I think this, that I won’t be able to do it. I don’t want to die, however twisted I’ve become, however much Isoka would hate this new Tori who kills and kisses and twists people’s minds.

If you don’t want to die, then focus. Do what you can with what you have. What do you have?

Jakibsa, Giniva. Not enough. Myself, for whatever I can do. Not rotting enough.

We skid around a corner, just as the Immortals come into view behind us. Jakibsa wards off another blue wave of force before we get out of sight. They’re getting closer.

Monster, Isoka calls me in my dreams. Monster, monster, monster.

What would a monster do? What would a monster use?

Whatever she had to.

I open my Kindre senses.

“Over there!” I gasp, as we turn another corner. It leads into a long, narrow alley, with single-story buildings on both sides, flimsy clapboard things with gray, decaying plaster walls. I point to a door, closed and barred. “Jakibsa, open it!”

He doesn’t have the breath to question. A battering ram of blue force hits the wood, splintering it inward. I skid to a halt in front of it.

“I have a plan,” I manage, straining for breath. “Can stop them. Need you. Buy time. Sixty seconds. Please.”

They can’t know I’m not simply abandoning them. But they look at one another, and nod agreement. I turn and dash into the house, taking shelter just inside the doorway. There’s a single room, empty except for a firepit and kettle, with a single window blocked by a rag curtain. I put my eye to the window, and wait.

I’m gambling that their Kindre user can’t track me that precisely. I certainly can’t track him beyond the dead zone he projects. I keep blocking his questing tendrils, hoping I’m not giving myself away.

Outside, the three Immortals come to a halt in the alley, Jakibsa and Giniva facing them from the opposite end, where it splits in a T-junction. No words are exchanged—at this point, there’s not much to say. Giniva raises her hand and sends a bolt of fire at the scarred woman, who dodges adroitly, letting the missile impact with a roar on a building behind her. Their Tartak adept reaches out, and Jakibsa blocks him. Soon those two are grappling with twists of blue force, Jakibsa giving ground, retreating around the corner and out of reach. The Tartak adept follows, while the scarred woman charges Giniva, who fires more blasts of flame before fleeing.