“Your quarrel is with me, not with her,” I told Raffmir.
“I will settle it with both of you,” he said. “Give me a moment, Blackbird, and I will bloody this blade and return to finish our conversation.”
“Lesley, take Dave and run. Get free while you can,” I heard Blackbird say as I retreated.
“We won’t leave you,” said Lesley.
Raffmir launched a series of diagonal cuts so that I was forced to retreat along the gallery above the stairs. I parried each so that I could draw him away from Blackbird and the others. He swirled and spun his sword in tight arcs, each aimed at testing my defence, each seeking the weakness that would give him the opportunity to deliver a killing blow.
“Do as she says,” I called to them.
“There is no need,” said another voice, materialising from the shadows. “While Raffmir plucks one thorn from our side, I shall pluck the other.”
Altair moved into the doorway, blocking their exit. I tried to warn them, but Raffmir was harrying me, forcing me back around the gallery and into the rooms beyond. He used the momentum of his blade to drive me, making each cut flow neatly from the last. I was forced into a series of jarring parries.
“Good to see that you’ve been practicing while I’ve been gone,” said Raffmir. “Still slow, though, and a little sloppy, I might add.”
I didn’t tell him that the place in my side where I’d been shot was still stiff and healing, and that it was making me favour my left side rather than my right. Instead I used the distraction of his words to launch a counter-attack, pushing him back towards the doorway where he would have less room to manoeuvre.
He spun in front of me, a lightning move, whirling the blade around his body so that my attack glanced off his blade. The hard end of the pommel on the hilt of his sword punched into my side where I’d been wounded. “Oof!” I staggered back.
“Do I detect a weak spot?” he said.
My side flared into pain where he’d punched me. I rolled backwards and came to my feet in time to sweep his downward cut to one side. It would have split my head open, but it was slow and he’d meant me to parry it.
He was playing with me.
TWENTY-THREE
Altair stood in the doorway, outlined in a white nimbus. “No need for any further delay,” said Altair. “We can settle this now, just between us.”
“There is nothing to settle,” said Blackbird.
“Oh, come now,” said Altair. “This is no time for false modesty. You have been a thorn in my side for some time, recently more so.”
“It seems only fitting, given that you’ve been persecuting me and mine for most of my life,” she reminded him.
Altair stepped into the room, avoiding the wreckage of the furniture Raffmir had demolished. As he did, Dave moved around, shielding Lesley.
“I have merely held to the traditions and values of the Feyre, something I do not expect you to comprehend. It is as beyond you as flying is beyond a dog.” He edged forward.
Blackbird backed towards the fireplace and reached behind her with her free hand, feeling tentatively with her fingers for the fire irons hanging on the stand beside the cold grate. She gritted her teeth. She could feel the ache in her palm as her hand neared the dark metal. Her timing would have to be perfect.
Altair moved forward again. “I would offer you the boon of a quick death,” said Altair. “But that would deprive me of the pleasure of delivering what is justly yours.” He reached for her.
“What I don’t understand,” said Blackbird, “is why? If all you wanted to do was destroy the courts then you could have achieved that a hundred times before now. I can’t make sense of a strategy that leads to your own extinction.”
“You forget, Kareesh’s perverted vision is only one version of the possible future — the only one she was prepared to contemplate. There is another way, even though it is not the way I would have chosen, had I been free to negotiate a settlement. I tried, I truly did. You forced my hand. All of this would not have happened if you hadn’t formed a mongrel court and threatened the very purity of the Feyre. That is why this fate is rightly yours.”
“What other way?” asked Blackbird.
“The Wraithkin possess the power to draw the life from others. This is what sets us apart. Using that life-force we can renew ourselves and become what we once were. We have sacrificed our brethren to renew them. We will build a new Court of the Feyre, filled with the life of all who sacrificed themselves. From death will come life, and renewal.” He sounded triumphant.
“You chose genocide?” said Blackbird. “You’d destroy everything just to save your own sorry skins.”
“I did not expect you to comprehend our vision of the future,” said Altair.
“I comprehend it perfectly,” said Blackbird. “I’m just stunned by the myopic, selfish, stupidity of a bid to save a race by consuming its people. It has all the sophistication of trying to turn yourself into a cow by eating beef.”
“You are not fey enough to understand,” said Altair.
“You mad bastard,” said Blackbird, shaking with anger. “You deserve the extinction that will certainly achieve. So say I! Lesley!” She launched William at Lesley. Squealing in surprise, William flailed his chubby arms as he sailed through the air to be half-caught by Lesley, who broke his fall and rolled with him back onto the bed, her relief at catching him written plainly on her face.
Blackbird reached behind her.
At that moment, Big Dave launched himself into a flying tackle at Altair. Altair caught the movement in the corner of his eye and swept the sword around, using his fist on the hilt to backhand the attack. He connected with Dave’s chest and Dave flew backwards as if hit by a truck, crashing into the wall so hard it cracked the plaster, showering everyone with fine dust.
“Pathetic,” said Altair, “and pointless.”
As Lesley screamed, Blackbird seized the iron poker from the stand, ignoring the burning shock travelling up her arm and swung at Altair’s head. Altair ducked and it swished through the space where his head had been. Altair swatted the back of Blackbird’s hand and she could no longer keep hold of the bitingly cold, nerve-jangling metal. It flew from her hand, bounced off the wall and landed on the floor behind him. Altair had hold of her wrist.
“Normally,” he said, eyes narrowing, “I would not pollute myself by drawing the life from a mongrel like you, but in this one case I will make an exception.” Blackbird felt the room chill as the room filled with limpid, swirling moonlight. She gasped as he twisted her arm cruelly, feeling the bite of Altair’s magic sinking into her skin where he gripped her. She swatted at his head with her free hand but he evaded her easily. She was weak. She could feel the fight draining from her.
“At last,” said Altair, “you will get what you deserve.”
There was a sound like an impact on a wet melon. Altair’s eyes rolled up until only the whites showed and then closed. For a moment he looked beatifically peaceful, and then he let go of Blackbird and sank to his knees. Behind him, Lesley was standing with the fire poker, held two handed. It was dripping blood. “I hit him,” she said, and dropped the poker.
Altair’s eyes opened. For a moment he had trouble focusing.
“You wanted my magic,” said Blackbird. “So take it!”
She pressed her hands to either side of his head. He tried to pull away, but she had him firm. A vague scent of cooking meat came into the room, and steam rose from Altair’s kneeling body.
“No!” he screamed. “Noooo!” He grasped her wrists, trying to seize control of both her and her power, but Blackbird’s magic was in the ascendant. She had her power and she was determined to use it.
“Take it,” she said. “Take it all!”
The kneeling form burst into flame, the heat forcing Lesley back. The front of Blackbird’s dress started to blacken as she held onto him, the column of flame rising around her face. Her hair was a crown of copper flames, and her eyes were filled with the reflection of fire. She held him until there were only charred, hollow remnants, and then she let go. The smoking corpse toppled sideways and fell into ashes.