Chase the Morning полностью

He rounded on me, pistol in hand, and I ducked frantically. The shot whizzed wide, and I aimed a slash that should have opened him from chest to crotch. It was parried so strongly I was hurled back out onto the landing. I charged back at him. He parried again and skipped aside. I skidded on the rain-soaked floor, collided with a railing behind him, felt it shatter – and go flying out into empty space. I barely stopped myself at the edge, seeing the broken wood dwindle away into the dark below me – then rolled aside just in time as the cutlass crashed into the floor beside me. If I hadn’t been up that mast the black abyss would have held me one moment longer, and my head would have followed the railing. As it was I jabbed viciously, and he sprang back with a growl and a curse, blood welling from his side. That gave me time to scramble up, and I saw where we were: on a gallery running just below the roof, which was mostly open, with little waterfalls of rain pouring down. That emptiness beneath us must be the great hall. Almost certainly he was trying to get to the far side of the house, to some back stair and escape.

But he wasn’t going anywhere now. He was coming for me, letting Clare lie where he’d dropped her, confident he could clear me out of his way first; it showed. Breathing hard, wishing I had just a little more puff left, I levelled my sword.

He sneered – and lunged so quickly I yelped in panic and hopped away. But that overextended him, and he had to drop and duck aside from my own wide slash, right to the fragile rail. There he parried, twisted his blade and slashed at my ankles; I skipped and chopped at him, he caught it and rose to one knee, sending me staggering. I hacked two-handed at his head, he flicked up his cutlass and turned my blow against the rail, smashing it through. Then while my sword was entangled he sprang up and swung a cut. I got free and met it with another and we chopped at each in a flurry of fast blows, back and forth, high and low, with the lightning flickering overhead. I held him off; but three days, even of Mall’s training, doesn’t make a master swordsman – only one who can see the end coming. In this straight slogging match he was bound to win. He had height and strength and reach over me, and whatever nasty experience could make him captain of the Chorazin –

Agony spiked up my leg, and I yelled. His huge foot had stamped down on my shoe – and his clawed toenails pinned it to the spot. His heavy blade sang down on my head. I flung up my own, two-handed, and stopped it – just. But my head only came up to his chest, and he was stronger than me anyway. He leaned, and slowly but inexorably he forced my sword back down onto me. Effort twisted his face into a snarling grin, and threads of slaver dripped from his yellowed tusks.

Then I saw Clare stir and look up, her eyes wide; and suddenly I was back in the office, reading – reading the Chorazin’s database entry …

I caught his eye and winked, though my arms were creaking and it hurt to breathe. ‘Hey, captain – recognize anything?’

He started, stared, his cat-eyes glinting. ‘That sword! So ’twas thou slew Diego my first mate!’ There was laughter in the appalling voice. ‘Vaunt thyself not o’ermuch! Serviceable he was, a most valiant rogue, a lovely bully – but no match for me!’

‘Nor me – was he? And are you so sure you are? Your warehouse raid cocked up – what about that? Your lousy green light put out – the wind knocked out of your sails – how’s about that, Rooke? Or should I call you Azazael?’

That caught him! With a sudden deafening roar he forced me down on my knees, and loomed over me, spitting. ‘How cam’st thou by that name, swine’s stale?’

I’d remembered it from the database entry. ‘Oh – that’s my magic – don’t you remember?’ It’s hard to sound sarcastic when you’re fighting for breath. ‘You traced it back – sent your goons after me – all they got their paws on – a helpless girl! Too stupid – whole pack of you – too frigging thick to catch up with me – me!’