She shook her head. ‘But what if—’
‘Listen, just take them. Do it for me. Me and Jess, OK?’
‘You and Jess.’ She curled her fist round the vial. ‘And Richard.’
‘Yes. Now go!’
Grief was kindling into fury inside her, and even the darkness in the cavern was stained red through her vision. Turning deliberately away from Richard’s body, she snatched up the Knife in her other hand.
‘This is it, Eldest,’ she hissed. ‘I’m coming to get you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cassie burst from the cavern entrance into a pale golden Kenya dawn. Between the trees, the horizon was a very distant line, hazy with glowing watercolour tints, but she had no time to admire it. She plunged down the rocks into the valley and ran. If she ran fast enough, she might even outrun the sight of Richard’s broken corpse, branded in her mind’s eye.
She stumbled, tripped and fell, rolling down a small gully with the breath knocked out of her, but she leaped back to her feet and ran again. She must be close to the lowest slopes; she could hear the sound of the river they’d followed. It wasn’t hard to follow the trail: broken branches, scored rock and blood. Gritting her teeth, she hurtled on down, leaping tree roots.
I’ll get there. I’m coming, Ranjit …
Abruptly she skidded to a halt. The river pooled between two waterfalls, a broad placid lake that funnelled into a roaring cascade. But it wasn’t the water that brought her to a halt, sniffing the wind, straining her ears. Her Few senses bristled.
Was she imagining things? Cassie took another hesitant step towards the clear riverside path, frowning.
Shadows stirred, and a squat, malevolent figure stepped out from behind rocks.
‘Marat.’ Cassie shook her head. Of course. Trust him to turn up at the worst possible moment.
The little man grinned at her. ‘That’s far enough, Miss Bell.’
Five words. Was it the most he’d ever spoken to her?
‘Not quite far enough,’ she spat. ‘Get out of my way.’
His pale raisin-eyes were filmed in scarlet. For a moment Cassie was shocked – wasn’t Few status supposed to confer beauty? – but she had no time to wonder. Marat crouched, and sprang.
Roaring, she leaped to meet him. They collided in mid-air, and tumbled, snarling and biting, tearing violently at one another. She kicked him away, but he rolled, recovered, and charged like a bull into her midriff, knocking her on to her back. Cassie yelled with frustrated rage. She hadn’t regained her full strength yet, and his stocky frame was surprisingly powerful.
Marat had a grip on her neck, and he tried to squeeze harder as she writhed, trying to get free of him. ‘You think I’ll let you ruin everything now?’ he growled. ‘I’ll be glad to see the back of you, Bell.’
‘Not … going … to happen,’ she rasped, choking for breath.
He laughed, an oddly high, ringing sound. ‘You’re too weak! Like that arrogant bastard Darke. Too weak, in the end!’
That was what he thought. As his grip loosened momentarily, Cassie struck at him with one arm, knocking him backwards.
‘My mistress has sacrificed herself to the Eldest,’ he shouted angrily, trying to regain his footing. ‘You think I’ll let that be in vain? And my young mistress is now one with the greatest of all of us! You’re not even fit to be struck down by him!’
‘You sound like a bad cartoon!’ Cassie yelled, kicking out savagely at his groin, but he grunted, catching her leg, gripping and twisting. Cassie lashed a fist into the side of his face, loosening his hold enough to let her free herself from his grip, but she slipped, knocking into Marat and sending both of them rolling to the edge of the river and into the shallow, murky water.
Marat went for her again, grabbing her head and trying to force it down under the surface. Cassie struggled, choking, but she managed to twisting a leg round his ankle and unbalance him, sending him splashing into the muddy water. She surged up, sucking in lungfuls of air, coughing hard. As she struggled towards the bank, she felt a grip like a vice close on her ankle, dragging her back. Giving in to the pull, she turned, kicking out, and then, with a roar of frustrated anger, Cassie smashed a fist into Marat’s nose. I have to get away from here, she thought, I have to get to Ranjit! Blood spurted from Marat’s nose and he cried out in pain.
But he still wouldn’t relent. Ugly he might be, but Marat’s spirit was clearly not so weak that he wouldn’t be able to beat her in her present state. Cassie was already exhausted. A foot connected with her gut and she doubled over, then a hand smashed into the back of her neck and she was back in the water.
You might have warned me, Sir bloody Alric …
Cassie blinked, desperately holding her breath. She could see almost nothing in the shallow water at the edge of the river, especially now that they’d churned up the mud with their battle. Strands of weed tangled round her legs and in her hair, and shadows started to pass across her vision. Long, sleek, swift shadows. She was going to drown.
No.
Twisting violently, she finally got away, rolling over and seizing Marat by his thick throat. Snarling, spitting mouthfuls of vile muddy water, Cassie snapped her head forward, felt her skull connect hard with the bridge of his already-broken nose. Marat gave another scream of pain and rage, stumbling back, and Cassie scrambled for the bank. Get out of the water get out of the water …
She spun round as soon as she was on semi-solid ground, sliding and skidding in the mud, but keeping her footing. Marat, shoulders hunched, blood streaming from his face, was staggering towards her again, his red eyes brilliant with killing-fury. Curling her lip, sucking in air, Cassie remembered something at last.