Not after she had rescued him. Her very sorcery gave him strength.
She who kept a god in check by the power of her will alone.
Taniel finally looked down at the wax figure lying in the dust. He recognized that face, from the delicate chin and the golden hair to the ugly black pit where one eye used to be. A rock the size of Taniel’s fist sat in the center of the wax figure’s chest and one long needle stuck out from its head.
Gently, Taniel pushed Ka-poel’s head off his shoulder. “It’s time,” he said.
She looked up at him, a question in her eyes. He wondered briefly how her voice would sound if she were able to speak. He kissed her on the forehead and climbed to his feet.
“I have to go kill my countrymen.”
Taniel crept down the mountainside just after midnight. The night was deep, thin clouds obscuring a quarter moon. His whole body shook from the effort of the descent, holding himself back so that he wouldn’t disturb the scree or startle small animals out of hiding, and his eyes ached from squinting hard into the darkness.
He had the musket that he’d taken in their mad dash from the Kez camp as his only weapon. Bayonet fixed, it would be little use to him except as a spear, as he lacked both powder and ammunition. He’d left his jacket behind with Ka-poel, as the silver buttons might have caught errant moonlight and betrayed him to the enemy – his belt buckle he had wrapped in leather to hide it.
He felt the lack of powder keenly. A single hit of black powder would have sharpened his senses and allowed him to see clearly in the darkness. It would have dulled the ache in his bones, the soreness of his back and feet, and would have given him strength and speed, so that dealing with a dozen men would have been…
Well, certainly not easy. But not outside the realm of possibility, either.
Crouched on the mountainside, he examined his quarry.
The squad of Adran soldiers camped in the shadow of a ten-foot cascade with their backs to a shallow recess in the cliff wall. One stood guard at the top of the cascade. After several minutes of careful examination Taniel was able to spot the second sentry below the camp, about thirty paces down the valley. It was a good defensive position, impossible to flank.
But Taniel wouldn’t be flanking anyone. Not on his own. The waterfall would be the only thing serving to cover his approach.
His lack of vision in the darkness was a blow, but he had been planning for the possibility of this ambush for over a week. He knew the lay of the terrain by heart. This was one of a half-dozen locations along the valley where scouts might have camped, and he’d been right in his assumptions all the way down to where they positioned their sentries.
Their Adran blues were difficult to see in the dark, but the silver buttons gave them away. Taniel felt a sudden misgiving. He’d been raised among these men and women – perhaps not those hunting him, but certainly their comrades. These were his brothers and sisters.
Then why were they hunting him with air rifles? Only Hilanska would have been able to get ahold of so many air rifles in Adro. Only he would be able to gather this many Adran soldiers loyal enough to him that they’d be willing to go after a powder mage. I’ve killed Adran soldiers before, he reminded himself. General Ket’s vile soldiers, sent after him and Ka-poel. I can do it again.
The gravel shifted beneath his feet as he worked his way down to the top of the cascade. The sentry’s head turned slightly and the barrel of her air rifle came up. Taniel paused, his breathing shallow. An eternity seemed to pass until she lowered the barrel of her rifle back toward the ground and she turned to the east, looking down the length of the valley.
Taniel stepped into the stream and felt the cold water leak in through a hole in his boot. Stepping lightly, he worked his way toward the sentry. He put one hand to the end of his musket to unfasten the bayonet.
A cold sweat broke out on the nape of his neck. The bayonet wouldn’t budge. He twisted harder, but with no success.
He fought down a rising panic. He could still do this with his bare hands, but the lack of a weapon made it both less certain and more personal.
He set his musket carefully down on the bank of the stream and took three long steps forward, snaking one arm around the soldier’s neck and putting the other against the base of her spine. He squeezed instantly, flexing his arm to cut off the flow of air and blood to the brain.
She made a quiet choking noise and dropped her rifle with a clatter into the stream. Taniel’s heart leapt at the sound, and he watched over her shoulder for signs of alarm in the camp below them while he counted quietly in his head.
Twenty seconds for unconsciousness. Four minutes to be sure of a kill.
Her desperate clawing slacked off after just eight seconds. Taniel continued to count, and when it was apparent that no alarm would be raised, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Why should he spare any of these soldiers who were hunting him? If a single one lived through the night, they’d raise the alarm with the company back down the valley and Taniel would have two hundred men or more coming straight for him. For Ka-poel.
The soldier stopped struggling entirely at eighteen seconds. Taniel kept his grip tight, pulling her close. The killer’s embrace, Tamas had called it.
He felt moisture on his cheeks.
He remembered a time not so long ago, in the mountains far to the east of here, looking down the barrel of his rifle at his best friend, marked for death because he was a Privileged sorcerer.
At thirty seconds he let go of the woman, his rage not enough to fuel his strength. He let her sag in his arms and lowered her gently down to the bank of the stream.
A hand over her mouth felt her shallow breathing. Taniel cursed his weakness and made his way quickly down and around the camp. He paused once when one of the sleeping soldiers stirred, but the soldier merely mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, going back to sleep.
Taniel could hear his heart thumping in his ears. His original plan, tenuous at best, relied on removing the sentries and then killing them all in their sleep. Brutal, but efficient.
Now what could he do? They’d wake in the morning and find they’d been attacked. They would know they had found him, and what would his attack have accomplished? Nothing.
His steps became hurried and careless as he approached the second sentry from behind. A rock turned, the scree moved, and Taniel cursed out loud.
The man turned toward him, a question on his lips.
Taniel sprinted forward and slammed a fist against the base of the soldier’s jaw. Taniel snatched at the front of his uniform and caught his air rifle as it dropped. The man slumped to the ground.
Taniel examined the man at his feet as the moon flashed briefly from behind a cloud. The sentry’s features were soft, young, unworn by years on campaign. He looked about eighteen. A recruit?
He picked up the soldier’s air rifle, running his hands over the length. It had a long, smoothbore barrel not unlike a musket, with a firing mechanism where the flintlock would be and a rounded air canister instead of a stock. Terrible weapons to a powder mage, their expense and unreliability had kept them from becoming more common in the Kez army. Tamas had banned them completely from Adro.
To break the mechanism on the weapon was no terrible difficulty. But Taniel needed to send a message.
He held his hand up to the night sky, looking at the moonlight through the gaps in his fingers. He remembered killing those Adran soldiers – the Dredgers. Remembered putting his hand into the man’s mouth after he spoke of raping Ka-poel and curling his fingers around his teeth, grasping and pulling. He remembered feeling the tendons of the man’s jaw snap as he’d ripped his jawbone from his body.