‘Caitlin. Remember who you are,’ Sophie said feebly. ‘Why you’re doing this.’
Caitlin marched forward, head bowed, eyes glowering.
‘You’re a good person, Caitlin. Don’t let yourself be corrupted. This isn’t you. This-’ But Sophie didn’t have the energy to continue. It was too late. The end. She lay back on the ice and looked at the vast sweep of stars in the dark vault of the sky. So beautiful. Warmth enveloped her at the knowledge that she could finally rest.
Caitlin loomed over her, blocking out the stars. She raised her axe high.
In a last act of defiance, Sophie closed her eyes.
In the dark of her head as she waited for the blow, somehow she sensed movement. A sudden jarring clang of metal on metal made her snap her eyes open. Caitlin was sprawling across the ice. A figure in black was moving with balletic grace and strength, swinging a sword that left a trail of blue flames searing through the icy air. It looked like some hero from myth, larger than life, filled with epic determination and uncanny bravery. It took a second or two before his real identity registered.
‘Mallory?’
Caitlin rolled and sprang to her feet, attacking in a fluid movement so rapid she was almost a blur. The axe would have ripped open Mallory’s chest if he hadn’t bounded backwards, keeping his balance on the balls of his feet and plunging the sword past Caitlin’s defences. A shower of golden sparks burst where the sword skidded off the axe-blade. It continued through, slicing into the top of Caitlin’s shoulder.
She didn’t cry out, didn’t register any pain on her face at all, even though a spurt of blood shot out from the wound and splattered on the ice. Cold and determined, Caitlin attacked Mallory again.
They battled back and forth that way for several minutes, two jungle cats sparring with grace and savagery, neither gaining an upper hand. Sophie realised how much Mallory had advanced since their first meeting, from a novice with a sword to someone who could keep a goddess like the Morrigan at bay.
While the Morrigan-powered Caitlin could attack with never-ending ferocity, it was Mallory’s human cunning that gave him his edge. Where Caitlin expected a thrust from Mallory’s sword, instead he jammed the blade between her knees and used it as a pivot as he threw his full weight at her. She slammed down on the ice, wide open for Mallory’s killing blow.
In that instant, Sophie saw clearly the Caitlin she had first met in the Court of Soul’s Ease: sad, broken, hopeful, decent. ‘Mallory! Don’t hurt her!’ she called out, pushing herself to her feet. Mallory stopped mid-blow, half-turned. But what surprised Sophie the most was the startled expression on Caitlin’s face: it was almost human.
The crack that came from beneath Sophie was like a gunshot. Radial lines shot out across the ice from her feet. She didn’t have time to think. A split second later she was falling into the bitterly cold water.
Mallory saw the ice break and Sophie plunge through the hole. He couldn’t react. Half his attention was on Caitlin, knowing that she would kill him from behind if he went to Sophie’s aid.
In the end, he couldn’t help himself. He ran as close to the edge of the fractured, fragile ice as he dared, but Sophie was already gone. Falling to his knees, he tore at the hoarfrost until the ice was as clear as glass. Framed in the white window, he saw the horrific image of Sophie’s pale face, her eyes wide, drifting slowly by, her cheeks inflated with her last breath, her hands scrabbling on the underside of the ice, unable to break through. Drowning. Freezing.
The blow to the side of his head made him see stars and he knew as he fell that Caitlin had recovered and attacked. But there was no blood. As he jumped to his feet, Caitlin had the axe over her head, and then brought it down with such force that she was obscured by the eruption of ice.
Before Mallory could move, she was on her knees. She raised one fist and smashed it through the remnants of the ice furiously. Somehow she latched on to Sophie’s drifting hair, yanking her upwards, then hauled her through the hole she had made. Blood streamed down her wrist, spraying over Sophie’s face.
Mallory grabbed hold of Sophie and helped to haul her out. She was shaking violently, but still conscious. Quickly, Mallory pulled her away from the dangerous ice to the bank where Thackeray jumped in to help, his face white with desperation.
Mallory threw his cloak at Thackeray to wrap Sophie in, and then turned back to Caitlin. She was herself again. Hot tears burning down her cheeks, she bared her throat. ‘Kill me now!’ she ordered. ‘I can’t control her!’
Thackeray stepped in and grabbed Mallory’s sword hand. ‘Don’t hurt her!’ he pleaded, with so much desperate love in his voice that Caitlin’s eyes grew wide with realisation.
Mallory threw Thackeray off and swung his sword towards Caitlin, her eyes now closed, the long white line of her throat ready for the killing blow. Thackeray knew he would remember that image until his dying day: Caitlin looked like a saint preparing to make the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good.
Thackeray yanked his gaze away just as Mallory’s sword made contact. Hot tears welled up in his eyes. But when they had cleared, he saw Caitlin lying on the frozen river and no blood staining the ice. A raw lump marked her temple where Mallory had struck her with the pommel.
‘Pick her up,’ Mallory barked. ‘Let’s get her back before she wakes.’
Next to the blazing fire of Mrs Damask’s lounge, Mallory hunched over Sophie, rubbing her frozen hands gently. She looked like a little girl bundled in his thick cloak. Somewhere on the journey back she had lost consciousness and he feared the worst.
But as he watched intently for the slightest muscle tremor on her face, her eyes flickered open, dark and searching, and then a small smile crept to her lips.
‘You saved me,’ she said in a weak voice. ‘My big hero.’
Mallory fought back the lump in his throat. ‘I thought you were dead. I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.’
‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ She was racked with a coughing fit and when it passed, a shadow briefly crossed her face before her smile returned.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, concerned.
‘When I was in T’ir n’a n’Og, I gave up something very valuable to help Caitlin. I thought I’d regret it till my dying day.’
‘And?’
‘It wasn’t important after all.’ She gently touched his cheek as she searched his face. ‘This… here… is like meeting you for the first time all over again. How many couples get the chance to experience that same first moment again, with all its power?’
Mallory had no idea what she was talking about, but it wasn’t important: she was alive; they were together. A single tear filled the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. Mallory wiped it away; he couldn’t believe how happy she looked.
‘It wasn’t a punishment at all,’ she said softly. ‘It was a blessing.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘ When the people contend for their Liberty, they seldom get anything by their Victory but new masters.’
Hal sat in an alley just off the High Street and watched one of the numerous patrols crawl slowly by. As the spotlight in the back of the truck washed across the walls, he flattened himself into a doorway as he had done several times already. Sometimes it was a truck, occasionally a jeep or even a lone rider on horseback. Every time he had finally screwed up the courage to move on, another patrol passed, locking him in place for more long
