an unknown source. My mind drifted, unable to face the water again. The void swirled within me, echoing the water. It sent an exploring tendril out and upward, coiling around my heart and then, tenderly, pricked it.
Pain exploded in my chest. I wrenched myself back into the world, fleeing in panic from the acid touch. The water gushed into my mouth and I coughed, desperately trying not to breathe in. I wrenched and grasped at anything to draw me from that dark embrace. The black coils stayed with me, sliding inside my arms, feeding from the burning ache in my cramped muscles, tasting the pain.
My hand punched into something solid, sending a jolt up my arm, further numbing my senses. I tried to scramble past but something was blocking my path. In a moment of clarity I realised it was the far bank. I was there. The prospect of air had me skidding my hands across the wall while my chest felt like it would burst apart. My numb fingers skittered across the broken bricks searching for a handhold. A vertical edge found me a metal rung and I hauled myself up while I choked and coughed, inhaling water and slime, my vision swimming with spots and strange lights until finally I erupted out into air.
I slid my forearm through the highest rung I could reach and hung there, retching and spewing, while the current still tried to pull me free and carry me downstream. My head swam and the world spun around me as my chest tried to pull air into my waterlogged lungs. I felt curiously detached. The pain seemed distant and otherworldly. My vision swirled and the void within me writhed and coiled. Somehow I was out of myself. I was up in the vaulting, seeing the wretched bedraggled figure hanging from the rung, the hammer still dangling in the water behind, while the figure spasmed and belched muddy water.
Blackbird's voice drifted up to me. 'Don't die now. Not now.'
Then the body twitched again and it hauled itself up another rung, more by reflex than intent.
Solandre's expression was pure disbelief. She shook her fists and shrieked. 'Noooooooo…'
Her voice dissolved into a whisper like the wind through dry grass. Her body seemed to fade slightly and then expand. Her arms drifted out over the water towards the sodden figure hanging from the rung.
'Solandre! No!' Raffmir's voice held a note of command, but the fading figure ignored him.
'Stop her,' Blackbird told him. 'Stop her now!'
'I cannot,' he said. He turned back to watch his sister reaching out across the water towards my body.
'Well, I can.' Blackbird stepped behind Raffmir towards Solandre, being careful to avoid the indistinct floating cloud as her body drifted apart.
She slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the Dead Knife. Immediately, its colour began to rise, a deep blush rising in the metal. She focused on it and the metal roared into flame.
'Solandre!' she shouted. 'This is for Niall.'
She shoved the burning knife deep into Solandre.
There was a flash. A sound like the slamming of a great door rolled around the vaulting. A giant hand picked Blackbird up and slammed her back into the wall behind her. It went pitch black.
After a moment there was coughing and choking. The air was filled with smoke. A hesitant light flickered into life down the bank away from her, throwing elongated shadows into the clouded air. Tiny particles of floating ash drifted aimlessly in air currents, mimicking the eddies and swirls of the river, dimly illuminated by the floating light.
Blackbird pushed herself up against the wall, her limbs slow to obey her. She looked around for Solandre and Raffmir. He was pulling himself onto his knees, from his position sprawled, legs half over the edge. There was no sign of his sister.
Blackbird spat the ash from her mouth and raised an arm weakly. A sudden breeze swept the smoke and floating ash spiralling up over the gantry and away. The air cleared and the light steadied.
Movement in the water caught my eye. Ben was in the water, swimming towards the rungs where the figure still clung. Blackbird looked around, still confused. Raffmir pulled himself to his feet, pushing his long hair back from his face in a habitual gesture. He was smeared with soot and ash and he looked more like a ragged street urchin than the gentleman he affected.
Blackbird climbed to her feet, leaning against the wall for support and stood to face him.
'You killed her,' he said.
Ben swam to where my body hung from the rungs. I was pulled down from the vaulting and back into my body as he clambered over me then hauled me up onto the ledge. I coughed again, spewing water onto the bricks. The air in my lungs fought with the dark tide in my core. I spewed water onto the bricks, retching and gulping air into my lungs.
Reluctantly the dark tendrils unwound from my heart and I slid back into unconsciousness.
TWENTY-EIGHT
A thin sound entered my awareness. An alarm clock beeped and beeped, incessantly and I tried to summon the effort to hit the snooze button. My limbs felt like lead and even a small effort was too much. I dearly wished someone would turn the damned thing off.
Gradually I became aware of other sounds. There was a rattling rasp, rhythmic and almost regular, which waxed and waned with the pain in my throat and, under that, the low hubbub of activity in a distant room. Aches drifted into focus, my arms, my chest, my legs all throbbed with dull persistence.
Then I remembered. The water, the hammer, the cold. It all came back to me in a wash of recall. I struggled to open my eyes, finding the light blurry. A voice spoke to me.
'It's all right, you're safe.'
It was an effort to turn my head towards the sound. Her face moved into my field of vision and resolved slowly into focus. Her lips curved upwards slightly and she laid a cool hand on my forehead.
'Sleep, Niall. Let your body heal.'
Whether through some magic of hers, or simply because I was too weak to hold onto consciousness, I slipped back into dreamless sleep.
When I next awoke, it was quiet and the lights were dim. The beeping noise had gone and my eyes fluttered open to see Blackbird curled in the chair beside my bed, asleep. The chair, the room and the bed told me this was a hospital. There were the small noises, murmurs and rattles percolating through the fabric of the building, telling me it was night. I didn't have the heart to disturb her; she curled around herself with her spiralled curls falling over her face, her hands tucked under her chin. I closed my eyes and let the sound of her breathing lull me back into sleep.
Sunlight woke me next. A bar of white resolved itself into a gap in the curtains as I blinked and stretched, my muscles protesting and joints cracking as I shifted position. I groaned and rolled onto my side away from the brightness. She was resting her chin on her forearms on the side of the bed, watching me, her eyes sparkling green in the light.
'Hello,' she said.
'Hello.' My voice sounded hoarse, even to myself. 'What time is it?'
'It's nearly eight o'clock. How do you feel?'
'Sore,' I admitted. 'Like I've been on wash, rinse, heavy load, intense cycle, with repeat.'
'You're getting better.'
It was good to know the aches and twinges accompanying every movement were a sign of improving health.
'What happened? Did we make it? Did Ben finish the knife?'
'It's all handled. Don't fret. You made it across and he finished the knife. It's all taken care of.'
'But we have to get it to Claire.' I pushed myself up onto one elbow, making my head swim and precipitating a thumping headache.
She leaned over and pressed me gently back down, the weight of her hand outweighing my meagre strength.
'It's being done today, in a few hours. The preparations are all in hand.' She smiled. 'We did it, Niall. We beat them.'
I collapsed back to the bed, confused. 'What day is it?'
