Knight of Stars

by Tom Lloyd

  Lynx saw one woman not attacked, but simply caught up in a flock of the small scavengers. Her balance thrown at the wrong moment, she fell heavily from the edge of a building. Her head caught on a water trough with a sickening crunch. The tysarn swirled and fluttered away in confusion then returned as the smell of blood drew them back.

  Other Mastrunners were picked off by the larger beasts, the frenzy of last night reasserting itself. The biggest dived on swept-forward wings then furled their rear pair and snatched at the fleeing humans with expert timing. Those two or three yards long hunted in packs chasing people down. Of the golantha there was no sign. Lynx couldn’t even say if the one Lastani had tried to freeze solid was dead or not, only that he wasn’t going back to find out.

  ‘This way,’ Teshen called.

  He ducked into one street and headed for a long, shallow ramp that led to one of the honeycombed tors. It was big enough for pack-sloths to climb several abreast, but the enclosed streets meant the tysarn were unlikely to pursue them. Lynx was blowing after the sprint away, but as more Mastrunners crossed the bridges between islands, he was glad they’d been ahead of the flood.

  There were people here still, terrified faces at windows and doors – even some kids running around the narrow streets. Their faces were a strange mix of terror and elation, the chaos of what was happening driving all sense from their heads.

  Teshen led them up two levels. Lynx looked around in wonder as he found himself on an open street of eateries and workshops, the shuttered frontage of a bookseller of all things facing them as they emerged. Teshen wasn’t interested in that, only the views it provided. Between the organic curve of support columns and buildings, Lynx could glimpse the lagoon. Lights on boats dotted the water, even a few flashes as those on board fought off tysarn. The opposite shore proved a strangely serene counter-balance to this eastern flank, lamps and mage-lights outlining Casteril’s streets.

  The Cards barged a handful of locals from their narrow vantage point behind one deserted eatery. From there they had an almost unfettered view of Si Jo – the light of the moon and skyriver enough for all of them to gasp at what they saw.

  The islands were largely dark, aside from small fires burning and what few lanterns remained. Cliffbase was barely visible in the gloom. Given the lack of chaos in Casteril, Lynx guessed the hundred yards of open water between Cliffbase and the Duegar canal had proved enough to dissuade the golantha.

  ‘Look!’ Teshen said, pointing to the lagoon side of Si Jo.

  One golantha there was lit up by flames, a stuttering burst of sparkers describing its long armoured back before the magic abruptly vanished. There were pockets of resistance all across the island, just a few hundred yards in length, but most of the Mastrunners were dead or running.

  ‘Another,’ Kas shouted. This one was still by the scene of slaughter, picking its way through the shattered corpses of the shoreline. ‘It must be feeding from cartridge cases.’

  Lynx felt his guts tighten. He remembered all too well using a cartridge case to lure the golantha of Shadows Deep out on to the bridge.

  Gods, I really am a fool, he reflected. Now I’ve had time to think about it properly, would I be that brave again?

  ‘There’s one in An Vir,’ Suth said. ‘Must have found another trap the mages left for them.’

  ‘That’s three, and one washed out to sea, if the gods are more merciful than Safir’s always saying,’ Anatin added.

  ‘If we’re trusting that bunch of smashed-mosaic cretins,’ Safir replied, ‘we’ll be chewed-up lumps by morning. But if they could survive the open sea, they’d be swimming in the lagoon by now.’

  ‘So we need to lure the rest to the shore?’

  Teshen snorted. ‘Any ideas how?’

  There was silence. If anyone felt like chiming in with a suggestion, the mood sunk even lower when the head of a fourth golantha emerged from behind a large building – dusted white in the moonlight and obviously injured, but more than a match for the intemperate tysarn that had decided it was a potential meal. Winged beasts swirled all over the small island, most of the tysarn population apparently drawn by the scent of blood.

  ‘How are we doing for ammo?’ Anatin said at last, physic­ally shaking himself from the stunned vigil they’d fallen into. ‘This ain’t a spectator sport, boys and girls, we’re still in the game.’

  ‘Barely,’ Lynx said. He was peering into his cartridge case as he spoke. ‘I hope we’ve got more earthers in reserve. Those things took more’n a few hits and they’re still going. I’ve got three.’

  Several others said something similar and Anatin snorted. ‘It’s more’n we had back in Shadows Deep, but I’m starting to regret coming to a city so far from a Militant Order sanctuary.’

  ‘And most o’ the city’s ammunition is now just a late-night snack,’ Teshen agreed, pointing at the butcher’s yard of Si Jo. ‘Best we go find Toil’s new friends at the Waterdancer Guild before we go monster hunting. After this, the Shard will tell ’em to make us anything we want. Profit’s no use to the dead.’

  ‘Hunting?’ Sitain exclaimed. ‘We’re the gods-burned prey, not the hunters. They’re after us!’

  Teshen shrugged. ‘We might as well take the fight to them.’

  ‘Five!’ Kas broke in. ‘Not that I want to upset you all, but there’s five of the little scallywags.’

  She pointed out over the city and counted the golantha off one by one. The last was a smaller creature from what Lynx could see, but still at least fifteen yards long.

  ‘Call it four ’n a half,’ Anatin said. ‘Lastani’s mostly done for one I reckon.’

  ‘And she’s dead now,’ Lynx reminded them. ‘Maybe Atieno could take another down the same way, but that’s quite a price to pay and there’d still be three left.’

  As they watched, one of the remaining golantha smashed into a large building complex surrounded by five narrow towers. With a jolt Lynx realised it was a temple to Insar. White bursts of icer fire streaked into its flank from one of the towers, but the god’s protection proved empty. With a flick of its head the golantha smashed the tower to the ground and returned to its burrowing.

  When it couldn’t bludgeon its way through the stone walls it curled its bulbous tail around instead. Lynx didn’t see what happened but there was a blur that seemed to cover the whole near side of the building.

  The stone roof of the temple had been decorated with black stones, imported from gods-knew where and arranged to outline a prayer to Insar that shone in the moonlight. Under the attentions of the golantha, the rooftop blurred and the message was erased. Wisps of smoke started to rise from the rooftop then points of white light appeared all across it.

  Without warning, snakes of red light burst out over the surface and merged with the brighter spots – growing in intensity as smoke started to pour from it. The fiery light lasted just a few seconds, but then the golantha renewed its attack on the temple roof. This time the stone simply crumbled under its assault, great chunks of stone flaking away as it tore it open and started snatching up the mages cowering within.

  ‘What in the deepest black was that?’ Toil breathed. ‘Oh hells.’

  ‘Recognise it?’ Anatin asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No. Maybe – I dunno. You’ve heard of stonecarver beetles?’

  ‘Aye – Veraimin’s burning eye, they do that?!’

  ‘No, but they spit some sort of chemical that softens stone, makes it possible to tunnel in it. These things, shit. I’ve heard Wisp tales of creatures like stonecarvers, ones that use heat instead. Never seen anything like it myself, until now.’

  ‘So we can’t hide from these unholy bugs o’ the deepest black?’

  Toil looked around at the vast structure they were within. Xi Le was the tallest part of Caldaire, sporting three tors like small mountains that had been carved out by mages over a dozen generations and more. The one they were currently in had to be two hundred yards across and upwards of sixty high.
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  ‘They could fit down this one street,’ she said, ‘but not the rest, and this place is huge. How long would it take them to dig their way to us? Would they bother if our mages don’t give them reason?’

  ‘They can sniff us out!’ Sitain almost wailed.

  ‘But this is the Mage Isles,’ Toil pointed out. ‘There are mages everywhere. Got to be easier prey elsewhere, no?’

  ‘We’ll make a mercenary of you yet, Toil,’ Anatin said drily. ‘But the night’s got a long way to go still.’

  ‘You want to go bang on the Waterdancer Guild’s door, hope they’ve got something in reserve?’

  Anatin shook his head and looked around at the street they were on. ‘Nah,’ he said slowly. A grin crept across his face. ‘I think Teshen’s got the right idea, or the back half o’ one anyway.’

  ‘Fancy sharing?’

  He nodded. ‘We go with the tried and tested method. Boys and girls, madmen and monsters – it’s time we took charge of the situation.’

  ‘How?’

  He flashed a smile at Toil, the old rogue in him coming to the surface even in these desperate circumstances. Anatin shrugged his shoulders and straightened his jacket then set off down the street. He made for a slope that led to the higher levels of the great stone tor.

  ‘In the finest traditions of the Cards,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Someone hold my beer, I’m gonna try something.’

  After ascending one level and moving up to the next, Lynx had worked out Anatin’s plan. Varain was still asking about the beer, in case someone had magically found some on the way, but that soon petered out. The running and ascending was taking its toll on many of them as Teshen led the way up.

  The streets soon became narrow and unpleasant, just one of decent width on each level from what Lynx could see. The rest were cramped, dark and suffocating to Lynx’s mind. Mage-stones marked the occasional crossroad, but more often the ceilings were crisscrossed with thin threads that glowed faintly bluish. It was nothing like enough to shine a light, but even in the darkest parts a person could see the direction of the tunnel.

  ‘What’s with the cobwebs?’ Deern grumbled as they filed down an alley just two yards across. ‘Funny-looking spiders there.’

  Lynx looked closer and realised Deern was correct. There were thin white insects standing within the strange overlapping threads, some sort of small, boring caterpillar to Lynx’s untutored eye.

  ‘Mages bred ’em centuries ago,’ Teshen replied. ‘At least, that’s what folk said when I was a kid. The threads are sticky, anything gets caught and they’ll all wander over for a meal. They’re no bother to people, unless you …’ He sighed. ‘Deern. You’ve already put your hand in one, haven’t you?’

  ‘Wasn’t I meant to?’

  Teshen just shook his head and kept on walking. The intermittent sounds of the golantha faded into the distance as they marched higher. Near the top of the tor, the levels narrowed significantly. To Lynx’s surprise, they came out on to one open section that occupied the whole level and displayed a sudden degree of opulence.

  ‘What’s this?’ Anatin asked, looking hopeful.

  There were stone mage-carved tables all around the perimeter of the room, wide window spaces on the lagoon side and narrow, slanted slits on the seaward side. Intricate mosaics dominated every wall, beautiful renditions of sea battles for the main, and ornate iron lanterns hung from hooks in the ceiling.

  ‘A high hall,’ Teshen said, wrinkling his nose. ‘A fancy pub to the likes of us. Rich folk use it, mingle with their own kind and look down on the rest of the city.’

  ‘Never got an invite?’

  Teshen gave a small grin. ‘Killed someone here once, does that count?’

  ‘Bloody does in my book,’ Anatin said. He turned to a wide doorway opposite the entrance. Above it was a painted sign, perhaps in deference to tavern tradition, portraying a flat basket piled with small orange fruit.

  ‘Reft, if you’d be so good as to knock?’

  The big man did just that. The echo of his fist thumping on wood ran around the wide room, but elicited no response. He tested the handle just to be sure, but it was locked fast.

  ‘Forgive me, my friend,’ Anatin added after a moment. ‘I did actually mean kick the shitting thing in.’

  Reft shrugged and did just that. It was a fairly solid door and the first two kicks didn’t do much. Just when Anatin was drawing his pistol to put an earther through it instead, the lock burst and Reft yanked the door back.

  Before anyone could enter there came a shout from upstairs, a man’s voice that sounded more indignant than threatening. Anatin cocked his head at Teshen.

  ‘Who in the deepest black do we think we are?’ Teshen translated. ‘And don’t we know who he is?’

  ‘Hoi, you up there!’ Anatin yelled. ‘You speak Parthish?’

  ‘Of course!’ came the reply. ‘This establishment caters to the cream of mercantile society.’

  ‘Good. Where’s the beer?’

  ‘Are you mad? Who are you to come here and make such demands?’

  ‘The fella who’s about to walk up these stairs with his gun at the ready. Anyone shoots me and you’ll all burn, I promise you that.’

  True to his word, Anatin loaded a burner into his mage-pistol and led the way himself. The rest of the Cards followed eagerly, but at a slight remove in case anyone did accidentally shoot. Before long, most of them had filed out into an elegantly divided space where the stonework was finished in polished wood. There were two sections for private parties, a bar with a glittering sea-glass top and an open storeroom displaying stacked bottles and even a few small barrels.

  Occupying the foolish position between the Cards and alcohol was an old man with dark skin and a white beard. He was flanked by a pair of pale-skinned thugs who could have been Teshen’s younger brothers at first look. They were smartly dressed in white shirts and headscarves all embroidered with a concentric circle device that, Lynx guessed, was the establishment’s emblem.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ the old man demanded, but his indignation was cut off by a man emerging from one private section.

  ‘Commander Anatin?’ he said in a quiet, breathy voice. The stranger was a few years younger than the proprietor, with light brown skin and long black hair poking out from under a plain blue headscarf. He was bigger than either of the guards and still looked every inch a fighter, but wore a devotional pendant to rival any high priest’s.

  Anatin paused half a beat then, to Lynx’s surprise, gave a deep and florid bow. ‘The one and bloody only. At yer service, sir.’

  ‘Is that why you disturb me, to offer your service?’

  ‘Just came looking for a drink. We didn’t know you were going to be here.’

  ‘You came looking for a drink – here?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  The man gave a fastidious sniff and two more grey-clad guards emerged from behind him, three more from the other private section. The three men and two women had mage-pistols in each hand and a murderous look in their eyes.

  ‘In these confined parts, we all die if it comes to a confrontation.’

  Anatin raised his hands in mock-surrender. ‘We ain’t stupid … well, I ain’t anyway. We’re not here for a fight, didn’t even know you were here, Kabat. Ah … no disrespect, but afraid I don’t even know your actual name.’

  ‘Jo-Sarl,’ Teshen said in a quiet voice beside him.

  ‘Then like I said, Kabat Jo-Sarl, I’m at yer service. Though, come to think of it, I had come here with something in mind so maybe I could be at yer service afterwards? Assuming any of us are alive by then?’

  ‘What are you here to do?’

  ‘Something really bloody stupid.’ Anatin grinned. He pointed with his one remaining hand at the proprietor without taking his eyes off Jo-Sarl. ‘First of all though, I’d like this man to start us a tab. It’s been a shitty evening so far and I think a dozen bottles might take the edge off things.’


  Chapter 37

  ‘Anyone else find that weird?’

  Lynx looked around at the other members of Tempest as they settled at one of the stone tables and he started pouring amber beer from a jug.

  ‘Weird?’ Llaith puffed out his cheeks. ‘You’re gonna have to narrow it down it bit there, friend.’

  ‘The kabat. He didn’t even blink the whole time Anatin was talking.’

  Lynx glanced instinctively back at the door to the upper room, but there was no one there. The murmur around the room had prevented his words from carrying anyway, Varain in particular becoming voluble now there was beer at hand.

  ‘Didn’t move, didn’t blink – nothing. Like a statue he was.’

  ‘I’d have probably slapped myself to see if I was dreaming,’ Llaith said. ‘Given what’s going on and what we’re about to do.’

  Lynx took a long drink and gave an appreciative sigh. ‘Shattered gods, why don’t we get this stuff more often?’

  ‘’Cos it’s a quarter-isle a pint!’ called Himbel from the next table.

  The company surgeon was looking almost cheerful now, something that didn’t exactly detract from the strangeness of their situation.

  ‘My advice – as your physician o’ course – is to make the most of it and hope Foren don’t have a heart attack when he gets the bill.’

  ‘Shame the kabat’s sticking around,’ Llaith added. ‘Makes it harder to run out on the bill when the most powerful man in the city’s bloody watching.’

  ‘We pull this off, he’ll let it slide,’ Lynx said. ‘If we don’t, they can pin the bar tab on our graves, if there’s enough left to bury. Probably a fitting memorial anyway.’

  The older man cackled. ‘Aye. Here lies Anatin: leader of men, gambler of lives, lover of sarcastic women and defaulter of bills. We commend his soul to any god able to prise his purse from his cold, dead hands.’

  Lynx went to the window and peered out. This high it was chilly, the windows open to the elements. It was full dark and even with his unnatural eyesight he could make out little detail of the unlit islands. Casteril’s lights still looked undisturbed.