A Mapwalker Trilogy

by J. F. Penn

  “Don’t draw attention to yourself,” Jari’s rough voice whispered. “Or you’ll be down there with him.”

  Sienna shook her hand off. “We have to get Perry out of there. You saw how terrified he was.”

  She remembered the hunt for the Map of Shadows and how Perry hadn’t been scared back then, how he had faced skeletal birds and fire-breathing dragons with no fear. How much worse could the Scryers be? She imagined him down there, buried beneath the city. They had to find him.

  Finn came through the turnstile and joined them, his expression like thunder. “I saw what happened. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Mila stepped forward and took Sienna’s hand. “We’re not going on without him. Perry is one of our team and besides, he saved us in the Castle of the Shadow, remember? You can’t proceed without Sienna, so I guess we all have to find a way down there.”

  Finn looked at Jari. “Any ideas?”

  The warrior woman rolled her eyes. “Seriously, no one told me this was a babysitting job.” She paused. “But there are some tunnels I’ve heard about. I’ll need to go see a contact of mine. Wait by the statue. I’ll be back soon.”

  As Sienna watched her go, Mila led her over to the marble statue of the Muses, nine beautiful sisters joyous in their celebration of music, poetry, song and dance. They sat on its edge watching the sun-dappled square in front of them as locals and pilgrims alike gathered to approach the monumental entrance of the library.

  This was a place Sienna had dreamed of, the prototype of the Bodleian in Oxford, a temple to knowledge, a never-ending stream of learning. She should be entering these halls as joyous as the Muses immortalized above them. Yet all she could think about was Perry, broken and empty somewhere beneath.

  It seemed impossible that this bright world existed above and yet below lay only terror and darkness.

  Perry stopped screaming. He panted and retched, tears springing to his eyes as he tried to control the panic rising within him. He looked up to the flickering torches above, reaching inside for his fire magic. He would summon it and turn this place into a fiery hell.

  But once again, the strange dampening effect crushed the spark, some power that the Scryers used to keep magic at bay down here, a way to control their victims. Perry slumped in defeat.

  The sound of rustling and then limping footsteps came from the shadows at the side of the hall.

  A spindly figure, nearly as tall as the torch brackets, hobbled out of the gloom. A Scryer wrapped in layers of ragged cloth that covered it from head to toe, dragging in the dust as it moved toward Perry.

  He backed away as far as he could into the corner of the cage. “I’m Halbrasse. Please. My father is one with the Shadow. Stop! I’ll do anything.”

  A pressure built in his head as the Scryer moved closer. It didn’t need words. It had a presence he couldn’t resist, a way to reach into his very soul.

  The Scryers had been human once but generations of old magic had wound into their flesh and now they were scraps of skin and bone held together by pure shadow. Annals of the Mapwalkers said that they lived below some of the oldest cities pushed through from Earthside, sustained by the blood that seeped down through the earth and the magic they could drain from those they captured.

  As the Scryer reached the bars, Perry couldn’t help but fall to his knees as if it pushed him down with overwhelming force. It pulled back its hood and he raised his eyes to look into the face of abomination. Empty eye sockets in a skull covered with rotting flesh. It opened its mouth to reveal a pulsating mass of Shadow leeches oozing over each other in search of food.

  The Scryer lifted one bony arm with its long fingers and picked a leech from within its maw. It writhed, tiny rows of teeth searching for something to latch onto. The Scryer stretched through the bars and placed the leech on Perry’s neck. He moaned as the foul creature began to bite into his skin, latching on, sucking the life out of him as weakness spread through his body.

  The Scryer reached back into its mouth for more of the parasites.

  Sienna couldn’t stand it any longer. She paced back and forth in front of the statue of the Muses. “We’re wasting time. What if I just draw a map here and now, go down there, get Perry and bring him back?”

  Mila sighed. “You know what happens after you use your blood magic. You’ll be exhausted and we need you to get us out of here. Plus, what if they capture you as well?”

  Finn looked out at the crowds. “She’ll be back soon. Jari’s good at what she does.”

  “I bet she is,” Sienna whispered.

  Even as she spoke, the lithe warrior woman walked swiftly toward them, weaving around people with an unerring sense of her place in the world. Sienna could only wish for such confidence.

  Jari pulled a map from her bag, scrawled with chalk marks. She laid it at the feet of the Muses as Finn, Mila and Sienna gathered round.

  “There’s a gate here near the graveyard that leads into their compound. The Scryers take what they can from corpses in exchange for processing the dead.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Mila said sharply.

  “You don’t have death rituals on Earthside?” Jari spat back. “A lot of people die here. The townspeople of course, and those who travel to see the library. Some religious sects believe that if they die here, they will make it into some Illuminated afterlife. Someone has to deal with the sheer volume of the dead.”

  “Why not expel the Scryers?” Sienna asked. “Move them somewhere else.”

  Finn picked up the map, looking at it closely. “They were here first.” He looked down at Sienna, his eyes suddenly distant. “And besides, that’s an Earthsider attitude. If you don’t like something, expel it. As if everything could be so simple.”

  Sienna flushed at his words, acutely aware of the truth he spoke. But Perry wasn’t dead and she wasn’t leaving without him.

  “So we go in, get Perry and carry on with our mission.”

  Finn put his hand on the pommel of his sword. He nodded at Jari. “Okay, but we’re in charge. Follow our lead.” He leaned in close, so she could smell the cinnamon spice of his skin. “No blood magic, I mean it. I don’t want to lose you down there.”

  He pulled away and she nodded.

  Jari scowled. “Let’s get this over with.” She pointed at the main gates of the library beyond, a marble archway covered in flowers, constantly renewed by the pilgrims who placed them as they passed. “The gate of flowers is sanctuary. If in doubt, run for that. The Scryers are forbidden from entering.”

  They skirted the edge of the library buildings beyond the grand edifice to the service area. As with any sprawling public complex, it needed an army of people to run it. They lived and died behind the beauty of marble sculptures and hushed enlightenment.

  They passed kitchens, the smell of roasting meat wafting from within, reminding Sienna of how long it had been since they’d eaten a meager breakfast on the escarpment above. Steam hissed out of vents and she glimpsed abundant storerooms through half-open doors, terracotta jars full of wine and oil, dried chilis and other spices she didn’t recognize.

  Behind the kitchens, rows of sleeping huts stretched back, becoming more humble toward the cliff face where the worst of them backed onto the graveyard. At least that’s what Sienna supposed it was, but this place was unlike any she’d seen before.

  Tiny shrines of different faiths sat around the edges of a raised platform on which three trapdoors sat, two open, one closed.

  Jari hopped up on the platform and knelt by one of the open doors. She leaned in and knocked gently against the wooden panel within. “They must take the bodies down this way.”

  Sienna walked to the nearest shrine upon which trinkets lay in devotion, some carved with the names of those who had passed. In a sense, this practice was no different to the sky burial of Tibetan Buddhism or the Towers of Silence of Zoroastrianism where the body was left out for birds of prey to devour. The difference here was that the Scryers took the li
ving as well as the dead.

  She walked back to the platform and climbed up onto it. “Let’s go.”

  Mila tilted her head to one side. “But how do we actually get in there?”

  Jari gingerly stepped down onto the other trapdoor. As she put her whole weight on it, the door dropped and she fell into blackness. The door shut behind her.

  “Guess that’s how,” Finn said, stepping forward and dropping through after her.

  Mila and Sienna followed suit.

  They regrouped in the tunnel beneath the trapdoors. It was colder down here and the air smelled of decay and something else — something that made Sienna’s stomach turn. But it wasn’t the dead they came for.

  Jari and Finn pulled their swords and together, they walked slowly down the tunnel into the heart of the Scryers’ domain.

  8

  Perry lay on the straw, his breath weak and ragged as the Scryer placed one final Shadow leech on his outstretched arm. It made a soft caw, then turned to shuffle back into the darkness. He watched it go with heavy eyes, wanting desperately to close them and sink into oblivion but a sliver of hope kept him awake. Sienna and Mila would not leave him down here to die. He just had to hold on a little longer …

  The pain was a pulsating wound, his magic draining away with every heartbeat. A death of a thousand cuts as the leeches sucked the fire from him. When the Scryer gulped down the creatures again, it would absorb his magic with their flesh, perfect parasites existing in symbiosis.

  There was no reasoning with them, no moral argument that could be made to stop their malevolent consumption. They sought out and devoured magic and somehow, Perry guessed, it made its way back to wherever the source of the Shadow lay. It was strangely comforting to know that a part of him would go back to its origin after he breathed his last. He would give much to see where it lay.

  His vision began to narrow, the flicker of the torches dimming as he closed his eyes, a sense of the tide washing over him, cold spreading through his veins.

  Then a sound came from the corridor beyond. A scuffle of footsteps.

  Too late …

  Flaming torches in brackets lit the hall beyond, giving the cages around the edge a sinister red glow. Finn and Jari entered first in fighting stances, swords held at the ready. Sienna walked in behind them, Mila at her side.

  The corridors from the graveyard had been empty, and there had been no challenge to the team’s progress so far — no watchers, no soldiers, no protection for those within.

  But Sienna did feel a weight pressing upon her, a heaviness that drew her down with every step.

  “Do you feel that?” Mila asked quietly. “I just want to lie down and sleep. It’s exhausting.”

  Jari turned. “The Scryers have a dampening effect on magic. They sense it, they drain it. Don’t let them touch you.” She walked quickly to the first cage. “Perry must be in one of these.”

  Sienna looked down the line at hundreds of cages, each holding a captive, lying prone on bloody straw beneath. The figure that lay in the closest cage was just a husk of a person, unrecognizable, drained of all life and magic. A sense of hopelessness rose up within her. Were they already too late for Perry?

  A clank of machinery sounded in the hall and the cages shunted forward.

  “The far end,” Finn whispered. “As each drop through, they move along. Perry will be in the more recent cages.”

  They ran together, footsteps ringing out in the hall. A new cage came through from the tunnel beyond, a little girl this time, her eyes wide with fear, her face streaked with tears. Sienna reached through the bars. “It’s okay, we’ll get you out of here.”

  Jari knocked away her hand. “Stop that. We’re not here for her, or any of them.” She pointed to the hundreds of other cages. “You want to let them all go? Find your friend quickly before we end up like these poor wretches.”

  Tears sprang to Sienna’s eyes as she turned away. Jari was right, of course, they couldn’t save every soul.

  “He’s here,” Mila called out from a few cages further up, her voice desperate with concern.

  Sienna rushed to her side and Finn joined them. Perry lay unmoving on the straw, dark creatures pulsating on his skin.

  “Shadow leeches,” Finn said as he tugged at the bars, searching for a way to get inside. “Get them off him. Mila, help me loosen these.”

  Sienna bent down to kneel next to Perry’s head. She reached through the bars, shuddering as she touched one of the fleshy creatures.

  “Perry, we’re here. Hang on now.”

  Sienna grasped the leech and pulled. As she tugged, it tore and ripped at Perry’s flesh, burrowing deeper. It was part of his body now, no longer just a parasite.

  Mila handed her a knife. “Here, try cutting it off.”

  Sienna edged the blade under the leech, black ooze running from it along with the dark stain of Perry’s blood. She pried it off, cutting through its flesh.

  A cry of agony rang from the darkened arches beyond the cage, like a wounded bird keening for its mate. A Scryer stumbled from the gloom, its long limbs and ragged clothes brushing the floor. Its skeletal visage of bone and shadow screamed at them, the same black and red blood running over its chin that wept from the leech.

  “You’re hurting it,” Mila said in wonder, then her voice hardened. “Do it again.”

  Finn stepped forward, his sword held high. “Quickly.”

  Jari spun away from the cage of the little girl, ready to fight alongside him.

  The Scryer rushed them, long limbs flailing as its avian lament echoed through the hall, the screech making the hair on Sienna’s arms rise up at the terrible noise. She stabbed at the leeches on Perry’s skin, slashing at them, hacking them off.

  The Scryer screamed with pain as the leeches shriveled up in bloody clumps, its agony linked to the tiny parasites. Finn swung his sword at it and the blade went right through as if it were just air, trailing wreaths of shadow behind its arc. Finn spun with the weight of the blade and tried again, just as Jari darted in with her weapon. But neither of them could touch the wraith.

  It staggered closer to Sienna, long fingers reaching out, its features flickering in pain. Jari ran back to help and together, they scraped the last of the leeches from Perry’s skin. They withered on the straw, plump blood-filled bodies shrinking to empty sacs. As the last one dried up, the Scryer gave a final cry and sank to the ground. Finn stabbed at the pile of rags with his sword but it went straight through, ringing on the stone beneath.

  As the Scryer disappeared, a click sounded in the hallway and the gates of the cages fell open. Sienna darted forward. She bent to Perry, touched his cheek. “It’s okay now. Wake up. It’s gone.”

  His eyelids flickered and slowly, he opened his eyes, his gaze weakened but the Perry they knew was still in there. He opened his mouth to speak—

  Just as the loud caw of a crow echoed through the darkened halls joined by another and another until the whole place was a splintering cacophony.

  More Scryers coming to defend their home — and their food.

  “We need to get out of here.” Finn bent to the cage and hauled Perry out, lifting him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. “Run!”

  As Mila headed for the exit, Sienna turned to see Jari lifting the little girl from the cage next to Perry’s. The warrior woman scowled and shook her head. “I’m not leaving her. Now run!”

  Together they raced back the way they had come, through the tunnels toward the graveyard. But this time, the harsh cawing followed them, the incensed sound of Scryers stumbling, their towering bodies unused to moving so fast.

  The team pulled ahead and made it back to the trapdoors in the graveyard. Finn placed Perry gently down on the ground before pulling down the hatch and boosting Mila up into the daylight, followed by Sienna. He lifted Perry and pushed him up into their waiting arms, helping Jari and the little girl next and then finally, pulling himself out of the hole.

  They stood panting o
n the raised platform, the bustle of the library city before them, willfully oblivious to the horrors beneath.

  “We made it,” Mila panted, bending over to catch her breath—

  Just as a long, bony arm reached out from the last trapdoor, catching her hair and tugging her to her knees. From below, the sound of triumphant cawing rose from the darkness.

  “To sanctuary!” Jari shouted as she jumped off the platform, the little girl in her arms, tiny face buried in her neck.

  Finn used his sword to cut through Mila’s hair and Sienna pulled her friend away. Finn picked up Perry again and together they ran back past the kitchens and service areas toward the gate of flowers. Panicked screams rose up behind them along with angry caws as the Scryers pursued their prey.

  The group turned into the main plaza, the orderly stream of pilgrims entering through the gate turning to look in the direction of the commotion. Soldiers moved forward with their lances outstretched, faces aghast at the creatures chasing behind.

  “Out of the way!” Finn bellowed as they ran for the gate of flowers. Something in the pilgrim mass responded and the crowd parted, allowing them to surge forward. They were so close now.

  The Scryer in the gatehouse emerged and the crowd gasped at its soaring monstrosity, the power it exuded as it stalked forward, joining its brethren in pursuit of the escapees.

  Sienna stumbled, tripping on the stone steps, falling forward.

  She cried out and rolled quickly, just as the long fingers of the Scryer behind reached down for her, raking across her flesh. She looked up into the darkness of its hooded visage and saw something like surprise in its depths, a recognition of her magic. Its caw this time was primal, a deep sound of yearning for her powerful blood.

  Mila darted back, grabbed Sienna’s hand and pulled her up, onward to the gate, an arch of flowers, a haze of scent and color marking the boundary.