just large enough for her to squeeze through. In truth she was not sure if he would be able to follow her, but with a twist of his shoulders he was out, too. While she let herself down the wall hand over hand with her Art, he simply dropped straight down, crouching for a moment all knees and elbows, before straightening up and making his swift way across the courtyard to the hatch leading to the prison.
They heard the fighting from the other side of the trapdoor even as they approached. Clearly, at least one of the Salmae’s guards had decided to see what Tynisa had been up to, or had simply wandered down to check on the prisoners. Sharing a glance, Tynisa and Soul Je took hold of the bar and hefted it out of its rests, letting the heavy wood thud to the ground. The doors burst open almost at once.
Tynisa saw the Spider-kinden, Avaris, fall back with a mailed Dragonfly poised above him, his punch-sword drawn back to strike. She did not stop to think, and any distant guilt she might have entertained about causing the deaths of innocent servants simply doing their jobs vanished on the instant. Her blade took the man between shoulder and neck, where his armour was weak, and she killed him in that one surgical strike. Avaris scrambled out from under the corpse, and wasted no time running for the main gates to the courtyard.
The brigands came piling out into the open air without plan or rearguard, spilling the Salmae’s guardsmen in their wake. Tynisa counted a mere half a dozen of the latter here, with a couple lying dead around the empty pit, and at least one of Dal Arche’s people fallen too. There would be more, though, for the alarm would have been raised, and Elass’s forces here were bolstered by the retinues of her early-arriving guests.
Her sword lashed out again, and they fell back before her, even as the brigands rushed for the main gates. She was left alone to face the guards, but they stayed back and would not engage her, and their faces showed only fear. In that moment she finally saw what Salme Elass had made of her: not a champion, not a huntress, most certainly not a fit match for her son. Instead, a tame monster was what Tynisa had been cast as, to terrify the Salmae’s enemies and keep their allies in line; just a pet killer to be let off the leash for special occasions.
Well, I am off the leash now, and she retreated back towards the gates, even as another flight of Dragonfly- kinden dropped down, armed retainers of the Salmae and her visitors.
‘Get the gate open!’ she shouted, and risked a brief glance over her shoulder to see that the brigands had the bar off, but were being attacked even now. Airborne guards began swooping on them, and she saw Soul Je’s little bow sing, spitting shafts through the night air with a calm, sure aim, backed by the fierce flash of Mordrec’s Wasp- kinden sting.
She went after them then, turning her back on her opponents and trusting to her reputation and her reflexes to keep them at bay for just long enough. Half the brigands were already through the gates now, and running, and she saw Dal Arche trying to muster the rest to get them moving. She arrived in a flurry of steel, picking one of the attackers from the air even as he swooped down. ‘Go!’ she heard herself yelling. Dal’s expression made it plain that was exactly what he was attempting, but then his eyes fell on something behind her, and she read his face and turned.
There was a pale figure emerging from the hatch leading to the prison: a white-haired Mantis-kinden that she knew well.
The guards dropped towards them again in renewed numbers, and for a moment it was all they could do to defend themselves. Most of the brigands kept going, getting clear of the castle, putting more and more of a burden on those few that remained. The first few guards flying over the courtyard wall, in pursuit of the escapees, met with Soul Je’s bow as he kept watch and picked them off.
‘Go!’ Tynisa shouted, and then realized that they had, that even Dal Arche was now backing away as Isendter Whitehand approached, and that there was only one left there beside her to hold off the guards. It was Ygor the Scorpion-kinden, the short spear bloody in his clawed hands. Behind them there was a flurry of wings, an arrow singing through the air, as Soul Je waited on to keep the fliers at bay.
A reverent hush fell over the guards of Leose, and they started backing off, giving room for Isendter himself. Imperial soldiers would have brought Tynisa and Ygor down by now, with these superior numbers, and sent Light Airborne out to kill the fleeing brigands, but they did things differently here in the Commonweal, and as the Salmae’s champion took the field, he was given time and space to act.
Whitehand stepped to within a few yards of them, his face expressionless, and Tynisa had a moment of wondering what he was waiting for. Then she realized: Single combat, a duel of Weaponsmasters – that’s what he wants. The Mantis intended to accord her the honour due to her badge, before he killed her.
Tynisa did indeed feel honoured. It was the right and proper way, such a fight, and such a death. For a moment she straightened up, directing her sword towards him, but then the crippling thought came, That’s what Tisamon wants as well, the spectre of her father pulling her strings just like before, tugging her down the road of Mantis tragedy. She faltered, and was not ready as Isendter’s stance shifted, impatient for the strike.
They had both forgotten Ygor. The Scorpion moved in a sudden, ugly lunge that would sully the name of any Weaponsmaster. For a moment it seemed that he intended to spit Tynisa herself with his spear, and she had a split second’s glimpse of those eyes, mad with fury and vengeance for his dead pet, his lost wife. Then he was past her, throwing himself at Isendter.
He hurled the spear, and that nearly won him the fight. Isendter was not expecting the enemy to disarm himself, and if he had simply swayed aside, then one of the Dragonflies behind would have taken the shaft in the chest. Instead he struck the spear to the ground with a swift motion of his claw, as Ygor charged him with taloned hands spread wide.
Dal Arche was unexpectedly back, dropping down beside Tynisa. ‘Time to move,’ he said hoarsely. The Dragonfly was staring after his friend, his face creased with emotion, but he was already backing away, drawing her after him, putting distance between them and the fight.
When they turned again, they saw Ygor strike twice, three times, savage and furious, but not one blow landed, and then Isendter killed him with a single clean strike to the throat, using the same deadly blow that Tisamon had always been so fond of. In that moment Dal made a single choked sound, the only grief to escape his control, then he was gone, his wings lifting him away, and Tynisa was running after him.
Thirty-Nine
The irony was that they had forgone the chance to make camp at nightfall. At Che’s behest they had pressed on after dark because Leose was so close, and now that she had regained the two Wasp-kinden she was anxious to catch up with Tynisa again and try once more to persuade her to return home. Had they simply been content to finish the rest of the journey in the morning, then they would probably have gone overlooked that night. As it was, however, the patrol swooped on them within sight of the castle itself, nine Dragonfly-kinden dropping out of the night with spears and swords and bows, forming a loose ring at a wary distance from the four travellers.
Varmen’s pack-beetle started at their sudden appearance, so he lost valuable time hauling on its leash and trying to keep it to heel. Thalric already had his hands ready, an open palm extended to either side, whilst Che found her sword springing to hand, assuming these were yet more of the brigands Tynisa had been dealing with recently.
Her Art sight leached any sense of colour and, whilst aware that they were well armoured, she could not distinguish their livery. It was left to Maure to state, ‘These are the Salmae’s people.’
By now Varmen had his beast under control, and had also thrust a palm out threateningly. The Dragonflies, having descended on them so swiftly, now seemed to be unsure of themselves, or perhaps unhappy with the odds.
‘What is this?’ Che asked of them. ‘We’re no enemies of the Salmae. We’re travelling towards Leose even now. What’s happened?’
‘You’re the Spider’s sister?’ one of them challenged.
‘Foster-sister,’ Che clarified, for what seemed like the hundredth time. ‘Please, tell me what has happened.’
‘You’re under arrest,’ the man snapped. ‘The princess has ordered you brought to Leose.’
‘I was already going to Leose-!’ Che started, but Thalric interrupted.
‘What’s the charge? Or does Commonweal justice need no reasons?’
Che was about to warn him that he was not helping, but the ring of Dragonflies had widened, slightly but
