Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [177]
Something in my heart gave way; a wall of despair and loneliness built long ago, on a rainy night in Montrève, when he came in from the garden. And in its place came joy and relief, and—ah, Elua!—love.
Caught between laughter and tears, I stepped away from the shadow of the fortress, into the torchlight that washed the stony ground. He dispatched the second guard, shoving the gaping Pleader toward the steep path to the bridge. In the melee between us, guards began to turn, realizing they faced a new menace from behind.
As he made his sweeping Cassiline bow, I cried out his name with all my strength, pitching my voice to carry as best I could above the wind and sea.
"Joscelin!"
Whether he heard me or not, I never knew; but he saw me as he straightened. Across the distance, two-score guards and prisoners fighting between us, our eyes met.
That was when I felt the point of a spear press into my spine.
FORTY-SEVEN
"Don't move, lady," a voice whispered in Caerdicci at my ear.
It was no voice I knew.
I stood rooted and felt my arm taken, spinning me roughly; Malvio, who never spoke. He grinned at me, and his slippery gaze looked quite mad. With a shortened grip on his spear, he circled around me, placing himself between me and rescue. I moved cautiously, turning to face him. I could hear the sounds of battle still, but they seemed suddenly very far away.
My world had shrunk to the two of us.
"Go," Malvio said, seldom-used voice sounding almost friendly. He jabbed the spear toward me, and I retreated a step. He continued to grin. "Go."
I took another step backward.
There was nothing behind me but twenty yards of rocky ground and the cliff's edge. I knew, it had been my view for endless days. And beyond the cliff—nothing. It was the farthest point, overhanging the angry sea.
"Go." Malvio jabbed the spear again, cheerfully. I stood Without moving and he did it again, hard enough to pierce the coarse wool of my dress and prick the flesh beneath. "Go!"
I took another step, sharp-edged rock beneath my barefeet. Over Malvio's shoulder, I could see the melee broadening, Joscelin penned behind a thicket of spears, dodging and twisting. It might have been different, if he'd had his sword; it would have lessened the difference in reach. But no, he had crawled the underside of the hanging bridge. The weight of his sword would have been too great.
He had come to rescue me with nothing but his daggers. And he could do it, too, given time and aided by chaos.
The prisoners were providing the chaos. I needed to buy time.
"Whatever you want," I said steadily to Malvio, "I will do."
It gave him pause. Then he shook his head, grinning, and gave me another jab. I took another step. "No," he said. "It's too late. You belong to Asherat now."
Behind me the sea-surge was growing louder, and I could feel a change in the way the ground shuddered beneath my naked soles. A deeper tremor, a hollow vibration. We were on the overhang. How far to the edge? Twenty feet? Ten? The wind battered me, whipping my already-matted hair into worse tangles, flattening my dress against my legs.
It was getting darker, further away from the torchlit battle. I could scarce make out his face. "Malvio," I said. "Do not do this thing. I swear to you, it is not the will of Asherat. Her followers have betrayed her, who put me here."
"You were put here to die," he said agreeably, jabbing.
"No." I took a quick step backward, then darted sideways, seeking to get around him. But he was quick, for a Caer-dicci, and he had a spear. He brought it sweeping about to bar my way, maneuvering behind it. A distant flicker of torchlight slid across his grinning face, his off-kilter gaze.
"Go," he said, jabbing.
I went, as slowly as I dared. Beyond us, I saw that the numbers of the guards had thinned, but they were organized now, and an armored figure with a full-length shield paced the outskirts, shouting inaudible orders.
The warden, I thought. He had formed the remaining guards in two lines, back to back; one held