The Outcast Blade by Jon Courtenay Grimwood Page A

Tycho could stop her. Inside was dark, the hall lamps smothered burnt out. Giulietta was so busy shouting for servants that she didn’t spot the night’s underlying stink.
    Tycho did, though.
    Dropping Eleanor, he stepped over her, pushing Giulietta behind him. The darkness of the hall, which he’d seen as daylight turned scarlet as his gums ripped, dog teeth descended and his throat tightened. It hurt every damn time.
    “Tycho, what is it?”
    Me, fighting myself
.
    He was Fallen. He was human.
    Someone in here was wounded but still alive.
    They must be for their blood to have this effect on him. He could see a dead steward dragged behind a chest, a serving girl rolled beneath a bench, her throat cut and life bled out in a cooling puddle across the marble floor.
    Giulietta’s staff.
    At a sound from halfway up the stairs, Tycho ripped free his dagger and threw. He hoped the man who tripped and stumbled was their leader. He certainly wore a clean jerkin and carried a new crossbow. When this hit the floor Lady Giulietta realised something was badly wrong.
    So did those in hiding.
    “Down,” Tycho ordered.
    When Giulietta didn’t move, he spun round and kicked her legs from under her, hearing her grunt as she hit the ground.
    “Leo,” she gasped. “Where’s Leo?”
    Grabbing Giulietta before she could stand again, Tycho forced her down, tightening his grip until she froze. “Leo’s safe.”
    “How do you know?”
    Because I can’t smell Millioni blood
.
    Prince Leopold zum Bas Friedland had left his wife and baby in Tycho’s care. The fact Tycho loved Leopold’s young widow and feared what the baby would become just made it… complicated.
    “What do you want?” Tycho shouted.
    “Who are you?”
    “Someone passing.”
    “Then leave while you can.”
    Tycho watched the intruder edge into view, believing himself hidden by darkness and shadows. A dagger jutted below his ribs, proof that one of the servants had died bravely. It was the intruder’s blood Tycho could smell.
    “Offer him surrender.”
    “
Giulietta
.”
    “
Surrender
,” Giulietta shouted. “You’ll get a fair trial.”
    “No, I won’t.” The man’s accent was too rough to be convincing, and in it Tycho could hear hope that she’d offer her word. Like an idiot, she did.
    “I promise.”
    “I’m making my bow safe.”
    A dropped bolt, a twang of bowstring, and the sound of a crossbow being put down told them he’d fulfilled his promise. Helping Eleanor to her feet, Eleanor steadied the injured girl, who swayed on her feet.
    “Arrest him, then.”
    Tycho was too busy watching the intruder edge from behind a stair post. One hand at his side, the other behind his back.
    Dagger?
    Five steps brought them close, and the man froze as he realised someone was near. He screamed when Tycho broke his arm.
    Screamed, then backed away, cursing.
    “
Tycho…
” It would be better if she didn’t shout his name all over the place. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny crossbow appear in the man’s good hand. It aimed for Giulietta’s voice.
    Time froze, and Tycho moved.
    He reached her in time to take the finger-sized arrow in his shoulder, and the shock of it snapped him back to almost human. The last thing he remembered was hurling his dagger in return.
    “
Wake up, wake up, wake up…
”
    Waves of agony locked him into darkness. He was so far insidehis head his only company was ghosts and a vast expanse of wasteland. A red-painted Skaelingar watched him from a distance. The savage who killed Afrior, his sister.
    That happened in his final days at Bjornvin.
    Afrior’s death was the last thing he remembered before finding himself here. He still wasn’t sure this world hadn’t been created to punish him.
    “
Wake up…
”
    Tycho forced his eyes open.
    Lady Giulietta was crouched over him, tears rolling down her face. Angrily she brushed them away. Her face was pale, her body quivering with horror.
    “Take the arrow out,” Tycho