The Bonehunters

Gasping, Kalam forced himself forward once more. Every motion sent the fierce fire of agony through his chest, but he had no time to pull out the knife, as the last two Claws who had turned to meet him now rushed him.



But too close together, almost side by side – Kalam leapt to his right to take himself beyond the range of one of them. He ducked a horizontal slash seeking his throat, caught the second knife with an edge-on-bone parry of the Claw's forearm, then back-hand thrust into the attacker's throat. Even as that victim began pitching forward, Kalam settled his left shoulder against the chest – and pushed hard, following the body as it slammed into the other assassin. All three went down, with Kalam on top. The corpse between him and the live Claw snagged one of his long-knives – pulling that hand free, Kalam stabbed thumb and index finger into the assassin's eyes, hooking with the thumb and pushing ever deeper with the finger, until the body ceased spasming.



Hearing more fighting from the alley, Kalam pushed himself to his feet, paused to ease free the knife in his side, cursing at the blood that gushed in the wake of the blade. He collected the snagged longknife, then staggered into the alley.



Only three Claws remained, and T'amber had engaged two of them, driving both back, step by step, into Kalam's path.



He moved up, thrust once, then twice, and two bodies writhed at his feet. T'amber had already turned and rushed to take the last assassin from behind, crushing the skull with the edge of her sword.



One of the Claws below heaved to one side, lifting a weapon – Kalam stamped his heel into the assassin's neck.



Sudden silence beyond the gasping of breaths.



He stared at the two women. T'amber was a mass of wounds – frothy blood was streaming from her nose and mouth and he saw the shuddering, frantic rise and fall of her chest. Grimacing against his own pain, Kalam turned to study the street he had just left.



Bodies moving here and there, but none seemed inclined to renew the fight.



The Adjunct moved up beside him. Blood had splashed her face, mingling with grimy sweat. 'Kalam Mekhar. I watch you. It seems…' She shook her head. 'It seems you move faster than them. And for all their training, their skills, they cannot keep up with you.'



He wiped stinging sweat from his eyes. His hands, clenching the grips of the long-knives, ached, but he could not relax them. 'It all slows down, Adjunct,' he said in a rumble. 'In my mind, they just slow down.' He shook himself, forcing loose the muscles of his back and shoulders. He had managed to stem the bleeding, although he could feel the heat of blood down the outside of his leg, beneath the heavy cloth, forming a glue between the fabric and his skin. He was exhausted, a sour taste on his tongue. 'We can't stop,' he said. '



There's plenty more. We're close to Admiral Bridge, almost there.'



'There?'



'The Mouse.'



'I hear riots – there's fires there, and smoke, Kalam.'



He nodded. 'Aye. Confusion. That's good.' He glanced back at T'amber.



She was leaning with her back against a wall, sheathed in blood, her eyes closed. Kalam lowered his voice. 'Adjunct, she needs healing, before it's too late.'



But T'amber heard. Eyes opening, a gleam like tiger-eyes, and she straightened. 'I'm ready.'



The Adjunct took a half-step towards her lover, then was forced to turn as T'amber moved past her to the alley mouth.



Kalam saw the anguish in Tavore's gaze, and he looked away.



And saw thirty or more Claws shimmer into view not forty paces up the street. 'Shit! Run!'



They emerged from the alley and set off. Kalam slowed his pace to allow the Adjunct past him. Somehow, T'amber stayed ahead of them, taking point. There'll be another ambush. Waiting for us. She'll stumble right into itBehind them, the assassins were in full pursuit, the faster sprinters among them closing the distance. Beyond the sound of soft footfalls, the thump of boots, and a chorus of fierce gasps, it seemed the cobbles beneath them, the buildings to either side, and even the lowering sky overhead, all conspired to close in upon them – upon this desperate scene – deadening the air, making it thicker, muffled. If eyes witnessed, the faces quickly turned away. If there were figures in the alleys they passed, they melted back into the darkness.



The street angled westward, now opposite Raven Hill Park. Up ahead it would link up with another street that bordered the park on the west side, before striking southward to the bridge. As they neared that intersection, Kalam saw T'amber suddenly shift direction, leading them into an alley on the left, and then he saw the reason for the unexpected detour – more Hands, massing in the intersection, and now surging forward.