"What do you mean?" Mark was flushed, his right hand gripping his wrist; Emma realized, distantly, that the mark of the binding spell was gone from his skin, and from Cristina's, too.
"The children of Mannan have never been defeated," Kieran said. "Emma is the first ever to slay one. They have taken the child to lure us out, because they know they will have us in their power when we do."
"They'll kill her," Emma said. "She's a baby."
"Emma-" Julian reached out for her. She could read his face. Julian would do anything, brave anything, for his family. There was nothing and no one he wouldn't sacrifice.
That was why this had to be her.
She bolted. She heard Julian shout her name but she was out the library door; she slammed it behind her and took off running down the hall. She was already in gear, already had Cortana; she barreled down the steps, skidded through the entryway, and burst through the front doors of the Institute.
She saw the blur of bronze that was the Riders, before she swung around and shoved the doors closed, whipping her stele from her pocket. She slashed a Locking rune across them just as she heard the dull thumps of bodies striking the other side, voices calling out to her not to be reckless, to open the doors, open them, Emma-
She put her stele in her pocket, raised Cortana, and descended the steps.
28
THE SAD SOUL
"That's her!" Ethna cried, her voice rich and sweet. She drew the child in her grip closer to her, raised the blade in her hand. "That is the murderer who slew Fal."
"It was a battle," Emma said. "He would have killed me." She looked at the other Riders. They stood in their row, facing her, a line of grim statuary. "I would think warriors would know the difference."
"You should be killed like your parents," hissed one of the other Riders. Delan. "Tortured and carved with knives, like they were."
Emma's heart lurched in her chest. Her fear for the girl was still there, but rage was starting to mix with it. "Let the girl go," she said. "Let her go and you can fight me. Revenge yourselves on me like you want to."
She could hear pounding on the doors behind her. Soon enough they'd get them open; she didn't have any illusions of the locking rune holding forever. Her runes had surprising power now, because of Julian-but Julian would be a match for their capability.
Emma raised Cortana, the morning sun sliding down the blade like melted butter.
"I killed your brother with this sword," she said. "You want revenge? Let the girl go, and I'll fight you. Threaten her a moment longer and I'll go back inside the Institute." Her eyes flicked from one of them to the other. She thought of her parents, of their bodies, stripped and left on the beach for gulls to pick at. "We despoiled Fal's corpse," she lied. "Tore his armor from him, broke his weapon, left him for the rats and crows-"
Ethna gave a high screech and shoved the small girl away from her. The girl toppled to the ground-Emma gasped-but she found her feet and ran, sobbing, for the road. She looked back over her shoulder only once, mouth wide in her tearstained face as she sprinted through the gate and disappeared.
Relief shot through Emma. The girl was safe.
And then Ethna charged, her horse's hooves silent on the courtyard stone. She was like a thrown spear hurtling through the air, noiseless and deadly; Emma bent her knees and sprang, using the height of the steps and the force of her fall to give the swing of her sword power.
Their blades clanged together in midair. The shock rattled Emma's bones. Ethna's arm flew wide; Emma landed in a crouch and drove her sword upward, but the faerie woman had already flung herself from the back of her horse. She was on her feet, laughing; the other Riders had dismounted as well. Their horses vanished, as if absorbed into the air as the children of Mannan surged toward Emma, blades raised.
She lifted herself out of her crouch, Cortana describing a wide arc above her head, striking each sword aside-Emma was reminded of a hand sliding across piano keys, hitting each note in turn.
But it was close. The last sword, Delan's, caught Emma's shoulder. She felt her gear rip, her skin sting. Another scar to add to the map of them.
She whirled, and Ethna was behind her. She held two shortswords, gleaming bronze, and slashed at Emma with first one and then the other. Emma leaped back, barely in time. If she hadn't been wearing gear, she knew, she'd be dead, her guts spilled out on the flagstones. She felt her jacket tear, and even in the cold of battle, a hot spike of fear went down her spine.
This was impossible. No one person could fight six Riders. She'd been mad to try, but she thought of the little girl's feet in their pink sneakers and couldn't be sorry. Not even when she turned to find three Riders blocking the way back into the Institute.