Kael nearly toppled over his junk fence when Silma flung her braid and strolled toward the junction between the second and third beggar streets with her men.
Was it puerile arrogance or the kind of confidence that twisted taunts into truths of her own?
Old Fen and Joss Renn called her a bitch. She saw them as quivering rats between her closing fingers. Pitiful things she graced with a few hours of respite, of hope that they could lick their wounds enough to win the war.
She's enjoying it.She'll crush that false hope the moment she moves her fingers again. Can I delay it? He shook away the foolish idea with a headshake. Got the stress I wanted. Side goals...
He glanced at Tonio. Crouched beside him, the rat-man returned a questioning gaze.
Kael pinched the bridge of his nose.
Riccardo will be avenged. Still... I wanted us to do it. We only killed eight recruits that Garrick won't even notice. Shit. The Sump Dogs lost too fast. Enough.
He poked his head over the junk fence. Couldn't see Silma and her men past the smoke drifting from the blackened wall of the tannery.
From within, men leaned over the windows, pouring buckets of water to douse the flames. More steam, better cover.
With no one on the street, he left the cover of the blanket. From the filthy ground, he picked up the bow and the thirteen arrows he had thrown down the alley. They were cold against his right armpit—still hotter than his silent rage.
"We did what we could." He waved his arm on his way out of the alley. "Come. We'll watch the end of this war from home, or Els might get wrinkles from worrying."
The frown that had never truly left Tonio's brow since the thug struck Kael's left shoulder finally eased. He jogged onto pavements wet with blood and the stench of burnt flesh and whispered. "Silma claws. Like beast. Strong."
Kael almost froze, then hastened for the last stretch to his shelter. "Stronger than you?"
Only after the sheet in the doorway flapped did Tonio answer. A word almost lost in the buzz of the flickering lamppost. Yet, it rumbled like a collapsing mine to Kael.
"Yes."
His throat tightened as the sheet fell behind Tonio. Before he could force the air out, Els' auburn hair trailed in a straight line. Her arms clasped his back. Something warm wet his yellowed shirt when she pressed her face against his chest.
He let out a long exhale that let his icy revenge and concern for Silma's strength out. As he rubbed her back, she lifted her teary green eyes. They locked onto the burgundy stains on his sleeves. "You're alive..."
"Unfortunately, I'm not haunting you anytime soon."
He grinned, and she rolled her eyes. Then their laughter shattered the gloom.
Els pulled back, wiping her tears. "At least you didn't get your ass whooped again. Thank you, Tonio."
Tonio scratched his head. "Kael bite. Baby dog grow. Strong soon."
"Wait... You killed a thug on your own?" Her eyes widened, and she leaned on Kael's right side. "You even brought his bow back? Wow... just wow. Training pays off."
"I killed two. The first bastard almost broke my left shoulder." Before her hands could shoot to his wound, he raised his palm. "I'm fine. It almost doesn't hurt anymore. My endurance will do the rest. And yeah, figured we could use a bow... when I can draw it."
Els' features tensed. Eventually, she guided him to sit against the junk wall. She set the bow and arrows on the ground and bundled her legs against her chest beside him. Her hair cascaded down her face when she gestured for Tonio.
Once he sat, she gazed at them in turn. "I watched from the doorway. So many died. Even when fire and smoke blocked my sight, I still heard their screams, the metal... I thought you were gone, too. I don't want to feel like that again. Once they're done cutting each other's throats, let's live like before. The three of us. Together."
She interlocked her fingers with Kael's and Tonio's. For a moment, silence thickened in the room.
Then, Kael nodded. "I don't plan to. We'll watch how Silma ends the Sump Dogs together." He smiled bitterly at Tonio. "I know you want to kill Old Fen yourself, but—"
"Silma bad. Like glasses. No die for revenge. Tonio live." Tonio flung relic 78 at Kael, his rat features returning. He tucked his hand beneath his neck and lay down, his back on them. "Rest."
Kael caught the round glasses, his open mouth closing. It was with a sigh that he reopened it, yet the bitterness in his mouth refused to fade. "Great, you understand. Let Silma do the rest. She'll kill all the dogs for us."
Tonio nodded without turning. Still silent. Still grieving his brother.
Kael glanced at his back for two breaths, then freed his hand from Els'. "Remember Clove?" His voice was low and cold.
"No." Els scowled. "Wait. I do. The brat from Harrow's shelter, right? Didn't he always play in the clock tower with his friend? What was his name again?"
"Bram."
"What about them?"
Kael massaged his temples. "I saw them dragging wounded thugs on the battlefield. They're dead."
"W-What?" Els' shoulders jerked. "Why—"
"They took Harrow's job, like all the others." Kael's eyes narrowed into slits. "She has been at it for decades."
He spoke louder as Tonio's round ears twitched. "We can't kill Old Fen, but Harrow's at her weakest. Two of the three gangs she supplied are gone. We'll get revenge on that bitch first."
"Harrooooooow."
Tonio growled, and Kael finally allowed himself to lay on his back. With a new target, he would likely stay put until the end of the war. Hopefully.
Beside him, Els' arms trembled around her legs. "Everyone we know slowly joins Kraghor's realm..."
"Everyone dies." Kael gripped his ledger. It turned physical as he flung it open on the first page. "I'll ensure we're not the next ones."
Els's gaze felt hollow. Who could understand her better than him?
His mom left first, even her memories turning into something painful to think about. Tovin and Ash followed. Friends, he called them back then—now dead traitors. Giovannie and Riccardo, whom he would have loved to count as brothers if they had more. Illness took Els' father, Arthur, when he was away, and now even distant acquaintances followed to the burial pit.
But Els and Tonio... He wouldn't let them die.
After a last glance at the only people he chose to trust in this hell, he read the shimmering sky-blue ink.
✦ Truth of Endurance ✦
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Core: I persist.
Anchor: Memory of Nessa
────────────────────────────
Stress on Anchor: 55%
Risk of Breaking: Medium
────────────────────────────
Cost: Cannot voluntarily yield.
Price: The warmth from the memories of Nessa.
────────────────────────────
Unowned truths of assassination and blind spot conflicting with truth of endurance. Truth of assassination already recorded.
Predicted stress on blind spot upon anchoring: 45%.
Predicted price range for blind spot: Body-related.
────────────────────────────
10% per kill this time. Because I put myself into danger, or of the unowned truths? Blind spot... the second archer never noticed me. Wait, there is more?
His eyes darted to an entry he had never seen before.
────────────────────────────
Warning: Truth of Gutter-Serpent's Speed causes friction with endurance.
Predicted stress upon anchoring: 30%.
Predicted price range: Body-related.
────────────────────────────
Why does this one have its own entry? His brow creased. Mhh, 30% is acceptable, but the name doesn't tell me enough. Speed-based, or will I...
A shiver ran down his spine as he glanced at Tonio's rat ears. What if he joined the monster club after sprouting serpent scales? Unthinkable.
He slammed the ledger shut. Even as he pulled relic 78, the truth of Gutter-Serpent took up a part of his mind.
For the past week, his goal to mutate endurance never left his thoughts. He thought he needed someone to experiment on, but there might be another way.
He glared at the dark frame of the Silent Frame. It could break like an anchor. Even better, it trapped the automated echo of the truth of concealment, which meant it was similar to someone who anchored a truth.
Well, body aside.
It was a tool. A valuable one. One he wouldn't hesitate to shatter if it helped him, as he had used the Sump Dogs as tools to increase his stress. And now that his risk of breaking roughly matched the relic's, he could experiment with how fast he should increase his stress.
Still, he'd take his time, perhaps even mutate the relic... Was it even possible? Unlikely, but worth a try. And that Gutter-Serpent's speed...
Somehow, he imagined himself moving faster than Tonio, even faster than Brannick.
As he let his mind wander in silence, another kind of silence devoured the tannery. The icy kind that settled between two desperate men.