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It made the continuing clash of metal echo even more sharply across the peak.
I swore again and raced through the broken remnants of a nearby doorway. The ghosts continued their sad effort to stop me, but the sword’s pulsing had eased, and light no longer spun from the jewel in the pommel. Perhaps with the witch unconscious, it realized it had lost this battle.
Most would have scoffed at the thought of attributing any sort of intelligence to an inanimate object, but when you were dealing with the relics of gods you never really knew. Hell, my knives had protected me multiple times from magical attacks without any sort of direction or input from me.
I raced from the old observatory toward the looming shadow that was my brother. Saw two figures launch at him and raised a hand, calling to the wind yet again.
She caught one and tossed him back down the mountain. The other, Lugh punched so hard that I could not only see his jaw break but heard the crack of it. As the man staggered back, Lugh kicked him in the nuts and dropped him.
I slowed and, as I neared, he turned, his gaze quickly scanning me and coming up relieved. “No major damage done, by the look of it, and you still have the sword—that would have to be a first in the scheme of things.”
“We’re not off this mountain yet.”
I shoved my knife back into its sheath and handed him the sword so I could check my battered knees. My fall had torn both my waterproofs and jeans, but despite how much my knees hurt, it appeared I’d escaped with only minor scrapes. They were oozing rather than full-out bleeding, which made a nice change. Rather surprisingly, my knuckles had also escaped with only minor damage, even though I’d slid along on them as hard as my knees. Maybe the knife had somehow protected them. It seemed unlikely, but there was still so much about these knives—and the triune in general—that we just didn’t know.
I straightened and said, “What about yourself?”
“One of the bastards caught my thigh with a knife, but the multiple clothing layers protected me from the worst of it.”
“Says the man who called a broken arm a minor inconvenience.”
He laughed. “Well, it was. I’ve suffered far worse on hunts, trust me on that.”
Given he worked full-time as an antiquarian for the National Fae Museum in Deva—which basically meant he traveled to all sorts of remote and dangerous places hunting relics for their exhibitions—I had no doubt of that. I also didn’t want to know all the gory details, because I worried enough about him as it was.
I motioned him to turn so I could check. He rolled his eyes, but obeyed. I carefully peeled away the layers of waterproofs, jeans, and thermals, and saw that while the wound was bleeding quite heavily, it really wasn’t all that deep or long. I grabbed the first aid kit out of his pack and treated the cut as best I could before using the duct tape to reseal his waterproof pants.
“Thanks,” he said.
I nodded and sliced off several strips of duct tape to fix the tears in my pants. “Where’s Holgan?”
“Chasing one of the bastards that attacked us.” Lugh’s grin flashed. “Apparently, he knew the man and was most affronted he’d taken the job. Answers will be gotten, one way or another, I suspect.”
“That’s presuming his friend is actually capable of giving him said answers.”
“There’s not many pixies living up this way, and telepaths are expensive to hire.” He nudged one of the four unconscious men lying around him with the toe of his boot. “But we’ll find out as soon as one of these bastards wakes.”
“If they all wake at the same time, it’s going to be problematic.” I could leash them with the wind, of course, but the weariness washing through my limbs suggested that might not be a good idea. We still had a long walk back down the mountain.
“Not if they’re tied up.” He paused. “You didn’t toss the rope off the mountain, did you?”
“No. Just a man or two.”
He raised an eyebrow, his expression suggesting he wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not. I waved a hand. “They’re fine. I cushioned their falls.”
Lugh snorted, looked around for a few seconds, then stepped to the right and picked up the rope. It didn’t take him long to tie his captives together and by the time he had, the man closest to me showed signs of waking.
I knelt beside him and waited. After a few seconds, his eyelids fluttered. He didn’t open them, but he was pretty obviously testing the strength of rope around his wrists and ankles.
“You’re not going to be getting out of them any time soon,” I said conversationally. “They were tied by a man who loves his knots.”
Which was true enough. One of the weirder things Lugh and his mates used to do when much younger was play a game that involved seeing who could tie the toughest knot to get out of. It was a game Lugh invariably won.
The stranger’s eyes sprang open. “I can’t tell you anything. I don’t know anything.”
“We’ll soon enough see the truth of that statement.”
Lugh walked over and stood behind me. I’m not sure what his expression was, but our captive looked decidedly nervous all of a sudden.
