Breaking Chaos

by Ben Galley

  Danib could not be slowed. If anything, he redoubled his efforts, getting the measure of Etane’s feints and dodges. The huge ghost doubled back with swings, switched directions, made false jabs, all until Etane was finally caught out. An almighty kick from Danib sent him flying into a small dining table of rainbow coloured marble. With a resounding bang, Etane broke the table’s back, sending rubble skittering.

  Danib was relentless, marching after the downed ghost before he could get up. Etane fought valiantly from his position on his arse, taking several more inches from Danib’s blade before diving between his legs. The giant sword came swinging, biting into Danib’s ribs and, unfortunately for Etane, sticking there. The brute of a ghost trapped the blade with his arm and swivelled, hauling Etane back into the table and pinning him. Danib’s sword came swinging, landing a vicious blow across Etane’s chest, buckling his cuirass inwards. Again, the sword raised. Etane began to kick his own blade, hammering it further into Danib’s side until the ghosts were roaring with the pain and effort. Once more, Danib’s sword came down, carving a length from Etane’s arm with a burst of light. His cry reached the rafters as he stared at his stump of a hand. Harder and harder Etane kicked, but Danib had gripped Pereceph by its ownerless handle. He wrenched it from his side, blue mist twirling in its wake. He raised the mighty blade aloft victoriously, but before he could strike the killing blow, Etane struck him hard in the face, once, twice, three times, denting Danib’s helmet.

  ‘For Nilith! For freedom!’ roared the ghost.

  Danib reeled, but all it gave Etane was an extra moment to sit up and bare a mad grin at the battle raging around him. I glimpsed in his face that most elusive of expressions; the face of a man that can look upon his work, his toil, his career of decades, and say with a smile that it was done.

  Pereceph came down like an axe meeting lumber, splitting Etane from the forehead to the waist. Sparks scattered as the soulblade bit into the marble. Blue vapour swirled and crackled with white light as Etane’s ghost died its second death.

  My attention was dragged away by a howl to my left. Hirana was baying for blood, and with the widow’s orders, her soldiers pushed outwards, leaving a small vacuum between their mistress and the fighting. The red-faced old bag was framed in the light of a window, waving a sword like a banner, eyes half-popping from her head.

  I bared my teeth at her, hating all the bitterness I saw in those eyes and that craggy face. I had thought her different; bold; justified, even; but I could see now she had been consumed by it. She was no better than any another iniquitous soulstealer, willing to slit any throat that got in her way.

  I began to move, barging through the soldiers as best I could until I ran along the edge of the wall. Silk drapes hid me here and there as my feet pounded the marble. My eyes remained fixed on the wretched widow. The roar of battle became a dull drone. I didn’t see Hirana. I saw the Horix who had put me in a sarcophagus. The widow who had tied me to a stake and left me in the sun. Whose bargains had never meant anything. The widow who had only seen me as a means to her end.

  Hirana saw me coming too late. Her sword swung over my head as I rammed my shoulder into her layers of black frill. I found a bony form beneath, and I drove it forwards. Haunting was not on my mind, and yet my sheer will pushed me under her skin. Just before her back met the glass, I saw to the core of her: that black, withered heart of hers, hanging in the darkness like a rotten chestnut. I saw her years spread behind her, every one of them spent in hate and hope of vengeance. We were all the sum of our years, but also the product of what we made of them. A life spent in hate will cripple any soul, wrap it in shadow and rot it from within. As it was with Hirana. She was beyond help.

  When I wrenched myself from her twisted soul, I found my hands locked on hers, with the half-coin trapped between our fists. We heaved and pulled, each fighting to shake off the other.

  ‘Give it up, Hirana! Give me what’s owed!’

  ‘You’re mine for all time now, Caltro! That will punish you for your disrespect!’

  I bared my teeth, pushing once more instead of pulling. Hirana screeched as my blue hands fused with hers, and I felt the vibration of her cry in my throat. I felt shock and surprise, but more than anything, rage. It was powerful. I pressed and pressed, dragging up all the strength I had left to fight it.

  ‘Give! It! Back!’ I yelled, half in her voice, half in mine. I shoved as hard as I could manage, while plucking the half-coin from her grasp.

  It worked, but it worked too well. The half-coin and chain came free of her gnarled fingers, but the haunting spell still gripped me. Hirana’s fiery soul railed against me, battering against me, and my coin fell to the marble as we toppled.

  A smash of glass dragged me back into sunlight, and the shards of a broken window rained down on my head. The haunting refused to let go. I was still watching through her eyes, somehow turned around and watching my grey hands grapple madly for purchase on the slick marble. My fingers left bloody smears behind as I began to slip. A screech filled my mouth. Shouts filled my ears, terror my heart, as my feet found nothing beneath them.

  Nothing but several thousand feet of air.

  Although I was already dead, the fear of heights lay deep in every ground-dwelling soul. In my own panic, I started to pull away from Hirana’s body, trying to get back into the Sanctuary before she tumbled into space. I flexed all my strength, wrenching my blue arm from Hirana’s body. It fell just short of the coin. I strained again, feeling my vapours shudder and pain pound in my head.

  My finger grazed the very lip of the copper half-moon. Even in the roar of battle, I heard its gentle chime as I fumbled it across the white, polished stone. I tensed, throwing myself further, but it felt as though somebody had me by the legs. The spell seized me, hurling me back into the widow’s body. Our souls duelled for dominance. Even now, with death waiting below her, she fought me. Her spite stabbed me like needlepoints.

  If I cannot win, nobody will. I heard the words echo about Hirana’s skull.

  So be it, I told her, and gave her what she wanted.

  I poured my will into her fingers, and I plucked them one by one from the lip of stone as if she were playing a harp. Just as she lost her grip, I threw myself into a mad dive for my coin, pushing everything into one act of will. At the same time, so did she. That rage refused to let go, matching my will.

  Such is the way of falling that the ground’s attraction doesn’t snatch a person right away. It lets you hover for a moment, just to enjoy the feeling of looking down at the grave you’ll soon occupy. Hirana forewent her moment, as did I. She was too busy still pawing for the glass and the soldiers’ arms now poking frantically into the hot sun. Empty air was all she grabbed. I was too busy watching my half-coin disappear from view.

  ‘Tal Horix!’ I saw Colonel Omshin screaming, his eyes wide and desperate.

  A scream tore from me as the earth pulled at us. I burst from the widow’s chest, or she threw me out. All I knew was the rush of falling. Even though I had little weight, I fell alongside Horix. My vapours were ragged and violent in the wind. Before me, the sandstone sprawl of Araxes loomed, thundering upwards to greet us with its immovable flagstones. I wanted to scream, even though I knew deep within I would be fin—

  Copper fingernails lashed my back, scoring white lines of pain across my shoulders.

  She was attacking me! Even in her final moments, plummeting to her death, Hirana groped for my throat and scratched at anything else she could grab.

  I tumbled, cartwheeling over and over, kicking out at her when I could. Somehow the old bat grabbed my foot, and dug her nails into my calf. I cried out, but the rushing wind stole my voice from me. I grappled with her, and we spun like a barrel in a stream until I was atop her. As the tip of a lesser spire rushed past us, I found the time to curse the Cloudpiercer’s height.

  Another peak of a white marble spire flew past, and seeing the blur of windows and balconies flying past intolerably close, Hirana
knew the sand in her hourglass was running short. She struggled afresh, scratching my chest and face. She berated me at the top of her lungs, determined to have the final say. Her voice was still faint over the roar of air.

  ‘Curse you, Caltro Basalt! I will have my vengeance from the grave!’ Hirana cried.

  ‘That’s if there’s anything left to bind!’ I bellowed. ‘You should have kept your end of the bargain!’

  As we rocketed past a high-road, I saw Hirana’s eyes widen, and heard the scream of aggravation rip from her throat. Holding her wrists as her defences crumbled, her emotions rushed through me. Her rage and frustration, but above all, her fear. She was human, after all.

  We had cheated the ground long enough. The flagstones met us at terrifying speed. I felt the almighty shock through Hirana’s body before I followed, a hair of a second later. I folded into the widow’s body, half haunting, half pressure. The flagstones shattered, the blood sprayed, and I felt her ribs burst through my chest.

  It was over in moments. The spell of falling broke so abruptly my head spun like a top. Shuddering, twitching, I burst from Hirana’s smashed body and stumbled over the stone until I fell in a heap. I heard the screams, the shouts, and saw through my blurred vision the chunks of rubble around the base of a huge tower, and people running.

  I had a powerful urge to do the same. I rolled to my back, feeling the warm wet of blood mingling with my naked vapours. My ghostly body could not stop trembling.

  Move, Caltro. ‘Move,’ I said aloud.

  First the knees, then my hands, and I was up, tottering like a fresh fawn but up nonetheless. I craned my neck up at the Cloudpiercer, and almost fell. Steadying myself, I could see smoke and dust pouring from its peak. Hirana and I were not the only ones to exit the Piercer the quick way. I saw black shapes flying from all sides of the tower. I reached up a hand, as if I could pull my half-coin down, but ended up making a fist instead.

  I stared down at the broken Hirana, skull cracked and spilled like a pomegranate thrown against a boulder. One leg was bent entirely the wrong way. Blood seeped from every pore, filling the shattered dent she had made in the flagstones. Her gaze was bloodshot and skewed, but still gazing upwards at the Cloudpiercer, as if longing for it.

  ‘You should have kept up your end of the bargain,’ I whispered, feeling strangely wretched, as if her dying moments had leaked into my body.

  One foot forward, and then the next, and within moments, I was running, leaving Hirana in the dust. I did not know where I was running to, but I ran anyway. If only to test my legs, as Pointy had once told me.

  Chapter 18

  Old Enemies, New Friends

  Hunt ‘em!

  Chase ‘em!

  Break ‘em!

  Bind ‘em!

  Archaic and inventive soulstealer chant

  The trail of smoke could be seen across Araxes. The black line, stretched by the wind, was drawn east with its origins at the peak of the Cloudpiercer.

  Huddled in their borrowed garb, Nilith and Heles had not seen the strange flying machine. They had barely heard its crash, so far above them and so muffled by the huge buildings around them. The streets had come alive with talk of it only moments after. Doors were unlocked. Windows unbarred. Heads poked into the street and craned upwards. Mouths came alive with talk of a machine. Of a coup. Of sorcery.

  They had waded through such talk until the boom had emanated from the mighty tower, and smoke began to pour from its top. The whispers had taken on a different tone. A coup! Sorcery!

  The streets had emptied once more. Merchant stalls were packed away. Armoured carriages sprinted homeward. Shouts and cries were chased by the clamour of doors shutting and locking, and all too quickly, Araxes fell into a strange, haunting silence.

  Before long, Nilith and Heles were practically alone again, and despite the air of fear, they were glad for it. The streets had begun to get busier closer to the Core, scrutinisers and proctors more common. But with the attack on the Piercer, every soldier standing guard had run for the Core Districts. The Cult soldiers they had seen in previous districts seemed absent here. Another blessing.

  They were in Yeresh District, a prosperous corner of Araxes where the almost rich had built their modest towers. It sat at the end of the Avenue of Oshirim, before dusty narrow streets became a grand flagstone avenue.

  The towers cast few shadows in the noonday sun. Nilith baked under the mounds of fabric; their musty smell had refused to burn away in the daylight. She stared up at the buildings with their sweeping balconies and grand decorations, each trying to outdo its neighbour. Half of her had missed the tight and rich press of the Core Districts, as opposed to the wide-open desert. The other half was just glad to be there.

  Nilith’s heart beat a fraction faster with every turn they made, every quiet junction they came to. Street names started to sound familiar. Earlier that morning, she had even recognised a bazaar she’d not visited in years, and her heart had drummed almost out of her chest. Mostly with excitement, but worry had soured it the moment smoke started billowing from her tower.

  Nilith felt her ruse crumbling, felt the sand running through the hourglass faster and faster. This journey had never seemed more like a race than it did now. She put a hand up to her collar, brushing her neck with cold vapour, and clenched her numb fist instead.

  ‘Steady, Nilith. You’ll tire yourself,’ said Heles, still insisting on a whisper despite the fact they were alone.

  Realising she had been storming ahead, Nilith slowed her pace, and moved to stroke Anoish on the snout. He looked tired. He grumbled deep in his throat, and she patted him.

  ‘Good horse. Not far now,’ Nilith said, more to reassure herself.

  ‘We’ll pass not too far from the Chamber of the Code. I could implore Rebene for some trusted scrutinisers—’

  Nilith shook her head emphatically. ‘No, Heles. Nobody in this city is to be trusted, not with the emperor’s body unbound and right here.’ She whacked the pile of bundles and a muted curse came from beneath. ‘You think seeing the Cult standing side by side with soldiers and scrutinisers is a sign we can trust the chamberlain? Something has changed in this city since I left. The risk is too great. No, we do this alone and quietly before it’s too late. Am I clear?’

  ‘Crystal, Majesty.’

  Heles nodded, moving ahead like a scout. Her bruises and cuts had mostly healed, but her wrist was still broken, and there was a limp in her right leg. Nilith’s wounds, however…

  The empress took advantage of the lack of attention to peel back some of her wrappings. Her good fingers felt the cold almost immediately. Wrinkling her lip, she traced her collarbone until the firmness frayed away into vapour. Nilith clenched her cursed arm beneath the cloth, still feeling nothing but a memory of a muscle. She gritted her teeth until her eyes watered.

  ‘Getting better?’ asked the falcon on the horse’s back. She had forgotten Bezel was there, he had been so quiet.

  Brushing an escapee tear away, she shook her head. ‘Of course it’s not.’

  ‘That makes two, then,’ he replied with a grunt.

  Nilith traded a look with those dark eyes and found them calm. There was no frustration there, or sorrow; just calm.

  ‘A break!’ she called to Heles, and they found a shady alcove in between two stout buildings. Warehouses, by the look of their ramps and wide doors. Letting Anoish free of his bundles, she dumped Farazar and his body onto the flagstones with a thump and a curse.

  ‘Damn you, woman. Show me a little decency, if I’m going to be part of your lunatic plot, and go down in history as some patsy. Some piece of property,’ he snapped.

  ‘I see you’ve had some time to think in there,’ scoffed Nilith. ‘And it’s a little too late to be worrying about the history scrolls now, husband. You should have thought of that years ago.’

  Farazar shook a damning finger at her. ‘You will ruin the Talin Renala line with your arrogance! Society itself will be broken. Tors an
d tals up in arms!’

  ‘Good, I say,’ spat Heles, leaving phlegm in the dust to make her point. She parted her wrappings and held her face up to the hot sun, eyes closed. ‘About time they changed their ways.’

  ‘I agree with my friend here. What about this city works, Farazar?’ Nilith raised her arms to the towers around her. As inwardly elated as she was to be back in the city, it only reminded her of why she had left it in the first place, and travelled over a thousand miles south to fetch this wretch of an emperor. ‘Look. These are fortresses, not homes. These are not streets, but gutters. Their inhabitants are not citizens, but prisoners of a society that sees them as expendable. This is no way to live.’

  ‘The empire will collapse!’ he said in a savage growl. Somehow, after this entire journey, he still hadn’t learned that aggression got him nowhere but pain. He had not listened to a damn word, nor opened his eyes to any of the downtrodden around him. He clung to his noble pride, and Nilith had come to pity him for it.

  ‘It’s collapsing as we speak, you fool. I’ll be saving the empire.’

  Nilith shoved him back down into the cloth pile, and he got the notion of silence.

  She helped Bezel down from the horse and laid him in some of the spare cloth. His eyes were now half-closed, but he was a fast healer. The blood on his makeshift bandages was dry.

  ‘If I were you, I would have cut out that shit-brain’s tongue a long time ago,’ he said.

  Nilith smiled. ‘You mind your tongue, bird.’

  ‘I’m a fucking falcon. I’ll say what I want.’ Bezel sighed to himself. ‘I was wrong about you, though,’ he said. ‘I thought you were just another murderer, hunting for half-coins and glory. No. You’re something new. Proved this old bird wrong, didn’t you?’

  ‘You’re the first of many, hopefully.’

  ‘Good luck. You’ll probably need it,’ he whispered. Bezel closed his eyes, settling into sleep.

  ‘Mm,’ Nilith hummed, thinking of her dream of the beldam. She traced the string and chain around her neck, clutching the copper coin and Fen’s bag of powder against her chest. ‘I think we’ll all need it.’