Shall I Take a Finger?

The lady Llaneth stood straight-backed and regal. Her blue dress flowed from her shoulders, her skin shimmered like moonlight on water. “You will let us leave,” she snarled, “or I will hurt you.”

Jessamy snicked her knife up close to the older woman's throat. "I do think we are rather past that now."

“Stop her talking,” whispered her heart. "Don't let her talk."

“There’s a monster coming to get you, you know,” said Taliette.

“Oh, it’s not coming for me, fancy girl.”

“It’s going to eat you anyway.”

Hewitt had his burly arms locked around Llan’s throat. The boy was kicking his heels in the dirt. His light was beginning to dim. The twelve points of the fourfold way didn't seem to be that effective against a chokehold from a trained killer.

Taliette nocked an arrow and aimed at Hewitt. Jessamy jerked the knife a little higher and Taliette felt it as though it were pressing her own neck. A thin line of blood ran down the blade. Taliette felt the sharpness at her own neck, her arrow wavered.

Jessamy noticed. “Wait, did Gintas bind you to this one?” she said.

She locked her arm across Llaneth’s throat, lifting her a little. Llaneth's legs kicked out, finding nothing but air.

Taliette felt her own throat constricting. Jessamy pressed the tip of her dagger into Llaneth’s side, and she felt it. The pain was needle-sharp and hot. She couldn't help but gasp.

“I can hurt you without even touching you? Oh, this is too good. What shall we try first do you think? Shall I take a finger?”

Llaneth’s eyes went wild as Jessamy sawed into her fingertip. Taliette felt the cut of it in her own finger, pressing into the joint, the click as the bone gave way, the little pops of the tendons. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t breathe. Her bow fell from her hand and bounced on the grass.

“Don’t let her,” whispered her heart. “Don’t let her...”

“If you hadn’t bound me, I wouldn’t have let her,” she choked back at it. “Stupid heart, stupid Gintas, stupid fucking binding.”

The tip of her little finger detached and rolled down her leg, leaving a spotty red trail, just as Llaneth’s own fingertip fell away, and she still couldn’t breathe. She wanted to scream but there was no air. Her head was throbbing.

"Gintas said if anyone hurt this one, he'd cut off his balls, isn't that right? But I don't have balls, so I guess I get a pass. You don't get a pass, though, do you, fancy girl."

"Don't let her talk." whispered her heart. "She'll ruin everything."

Taliette didn't reply. She couldn't breathe. This is what suffocation feels like. Like holding your breath, and then you have to keep on holding it, and then a sort of trapped feeling, like being pinned under something heavy.

“What next?” said Jessamy. “Maybe an eye? Let’s do the easy bits first. Hal was always good at eyes, do you know? Remember Hal? He thought you were really something special.”

“Don’t let... I... I don’t know what to do,” whispered her heart.

Jessamy flipped her dagger over and raised it to the Lady Llaneth’s face. She still had her arm locked around the Aden woman’s neck. The bright woman’s struggles were growing weaker. She jerked her head away from the point, but Jessamy was strong. Llan lolled in Hewitt’s grip, his face was grey, no longer shining. His nose was bleeding, there was a cut on his eyebrow. Talliette slumped to her knees, there was no air.

It felt light. It hurt - her chest was heaving against the blockage, but it felt good. Someone was finally stopping her. She would be blind, and then she would be dead, and then she could stop.

But then there was an arrow.

It came from above and pierced Jessamy through the shoulder, down into the chest. She staggered, coughed up a mouthful of blood. The knife fell from her fingers.

Llaneth fell to one knee and sucked deep, ragged breaths, and so did Taliette, feeling the pressure lift from her windpipe.

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Fen, on top of the tower by the pit, leaned out over the parapet, gripping the bow her father had given her. She was pale and trembling. She looked like she was going to be sick. She had a handful of arrows in her fist, little birding arrows with barely any point in them at all.

There was no time. Taliette snatched up her own bow from where it had fallen. Hewitt still had his massive forearm locked around Llan’s neck. She step-stepped around behind him, dropped to one knee, and shot up, through the base of the skull, up through the brain. The tip of her arrow poked out of his eye socket, dripping ichor. Still, the big man did not let go.

“What are you?” She muttered, pulling another arrow.

“Shoot him again,” whispered her heart.

“Obviously.”

She stepped around the side and shot him under the arm. The noise was like a mallet hitting a leather armchair. Still, he gripped Llan, but then a dark smoke began coiling from the puckered wounds, out of his nose and mouth, out from his side and his eye socket. It ran like a living fluid, pooling about him, brushing the grass like fingers.

He bellowed like a bull in the centre of the swirling cloud, then he dropped Llan, and ran straight at Llaneth, who was still struggling to her feet.

“Mother,” said Llan, reaching for her, but his voice was hoarse. He tried to stand and staggered.

Hewitt crashed into Llaneth, snatching her up into the air, but he did not stop running. The black smoke streamed out behind him. Llaneth was wrapped by it, a flickering candle in a black swirling lantern, and still, Hewitt pounded onwards.

The pit was yawning. Hewitt crashed through the fence without slowing.

“Stop!” Yelled Llan, but it was too late. The massive man cartwheeled over the edge, legs still working in the air, and then he was gone. The trail of darkness dissipated into the air as though it had never been.

“Mother!” Yelled Llan again. He staggered to his feet and began running towards the pit. Fen was watching from the top of the tower. She was still frozen, trembling like she was going to fall over.

“Get on the ship,” she yelled at him, and amazingly, he did, changing direction and swerving back towards where the black and gold ship was moored.

Fen was no longer on the deck of the tower. Clattering sounds came from within, someone was running down stairs.

Jessamy was somewhere. On the ship? In the tower? One little arrow in the shoulder wasn't going to do the job.

“Come on, come on.”

She nocked an arrow, aimed at the mooring lines and shot. The arrow dipped a little in the air, then flew perfectly and sliced through both ropes. She felt a little flush of pride. The ropes unravelled in a cloud of strands. Slowly, too slowly, the boat began grinding towards the precipice.

“Get on board,” she yelled.

"Where is Fen!"

"She’s at the tower window. She’ll jump. You’ll catch her."

He grabbed at the anchor rope and pulled himself up, then leaned over the rail, reaching for Taliette. She sprinted to catch him, leapt up, and grabbed his wrist. He hauled her up and over the side.

“Ow, ow!” Her fingertip stung like a bastard. She squeezed her hand into a fist, but it didn’t help.

“At least you have your eyes,” whispered her heart.

“Shut up, stupid heart.”

The ship was grinding over stones, squishing through the mud as though pulled by invisible cords. Llan was at the bow, gripping the rail. Fen was in the tower window, leaning out, reaching for him.

“It’s going home,” whispered her heart. "It knows the way. You did it."

But there was a new sound from the direction of the castle, the clatter of tumbling stones.

“Come on, come on,” she willed the ship to move faster. Between the swaying treetops, she glimpsed the head and slim shoulders of the Sintarael. It moved like clear water, and she felt again the start of the tingle, as it’s gaze swept over her and it began pushing its way through the trees towards the slow, grinding ship.

Come on, move, she said. She fitted an arrow and drew, not that it would do any good. Fen was leaning out of the tower window. The boat ground on, and still the massive creature was shoving itself through the trees, limping a little. The branches snagged at it and slowed it down. They were going to make it. Fuck, they were actually going to make it. They were through the fence now, it cracked beneath the prow, and they were sliding easily over the rabbit droppings, and Fen was still leaning down out of the window.

But the Sintarael changed course. No longer heading for the boat, instead, it went directly to the tower. It leaned into the ancient stones and they came apart in a rushing torrent of rock, and Fen in the window was swallowed up by it.

“No.” Llan's voice was tiny. He sprinted towards the stern. Taliette caught his arm. Caught his eye. Shook her head.

“Don’t,” she whispered, gripping his arm tightly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

For a moment she thought he would shove her out of the way and leap barehanded onto the feet of the monster, but then he gripped her arm back. The tower was still coming apart, tumbling slowly, slabs of it sliding into the pit, and somewhere inside was a girl.

“I... I don’t know what to do,” he said. His eyes were wet.

The Sintarael was digging through the fallen stones, lifting great slabs with long, elegant arms. She caught a glimpse of silver hair, a round face shining in a fractured window.

“Don't look,” she said, stepping in front of him. “Look at me instead. You will have your revenge. You will make your grandfather suffer.”

“I can’t just...”

“There’s nothing you can do to save her. It's got her. She’s dead.”

"I promised her!"

The ship was leaning out over the precipice, another moment, and it would fall. Everything would be finished.

“Shoot it.”

“What?”

“Don’t shoot it,” whispered her heart.

“Put another arrow in it.”

"Don't put an arrow in it," whispered her heart.

She shrugged and unhitched her bow, drew and pinged an arrow into the armoured chest. It bounced off and tumbled into the pit. Slowly, the armoured head raised, she felt its eyes on her. The monster stood, and then it was running at her.

“Oh, well done,” whispered her heart. “Now it's going to kill you instead.”

The ship teetered on the precipice, and it was as though everything was rushing down and down, headlong into the dark, then the whole world tipped forward and they were plunging into the abyss, and the Sintarael was leaping too, arms stretched wide, right behind them.