In an hour the ship was raising anchor with a full crew and three bone-tired passengers. I was slumped on the deck, too tired even for seasickness. Eva was talking with Bryden. He railed against it for a time, then grew quiet and morose as he accepted what we all knew had to be.
The sails swelled, catching a rising wind that pushed us east towards Setharis. Bryden stood looking out towards home, already under strain. I prayed he would last long enough to get us close before his Gift gave out. I didn’t expect any of us would survive this.
We had a few days to get our affairs in order, and to use quill and ink to say goodbye to those who mattered. I started writing a letter to Layla, then decided that I may as well also write a few more to various people. I had a surprising amount to say. Bryden scrawled a letter to his family and gave it to Eva for safe keeping. Eva didn’t bother. Everybody she really cared about was either here or already dead.
She was far more interested in learning all about me, all the mistakes I had made, the suffering, and also the joyful moments too. On learning that I had fled into exile for ten years to keep my friends safe, she wanted to know all about my time spent with Charra, Lynas and their daughter Layla. Her own upbringing was worse than mine in many ways: more privileged but devoid of love and appreciation. She let me into her mind to experience her parents’ manipulation. I returned the favour and our minds entwined, exploring our pasts. It felt good to open up to her and leave myself bare of all pretence and sarcastic quips. I didn’t trust easily, but with Eva everything was different. She was the third person in my entire life I trusted with everything I had.
It was far from the worst way to spend your last few days alive.
CHAPTER 34
Our ship crashed through choppy waves. Its taut sail was tearing at the seams, the second to be driven to destruction by Bryden’s fearsome winds. The aeromancer was drenched in sweat and teetering on the edge of losing all control, of giving in to the Worm of Magic and allowing the magic to roar through his Gift without restraint. He was perilously close to becoming a monster. I had almost succumbed to that fate before, and I knew how urgent the need was, how tempting it was to give in. Somehow Bryden found the will to hold on, dancing with the fate of the world borne on his young shoulders. He would see us home in time even if it meant we had to kill him afterwards.
Salty foam sprayed across my face. I fought down my seasickness as I longed for Old Town’s high walls to come into view. I prayed we were in time.
Eva’s magic-enhanced eyesight noted a pair of storm-battered carracks anchored in Westford Docks – the first two ships to brave the treacherous winter crossing of the Cyrulean Sea to bring Setharis’ legions back from our colonies in the Thousand Kingdoms far to the south. The sight of reinforcements was welcome, but it wasn’t enough. Militia archers lined Setharis’ outer walls. The few magi who had not marched north with Krandus, and those that had just returned from the war overseas, stood with them.
A few ballistae had been cobbled together by Arcanum artificers and raised on stone platforms, taking aim at the approaching daemons and hideous fleshcrafted monsters now crashing through outlying villages and warehouses on the northernmost outskirts of city-sprawl beyond the walls. The enemy forces were a black stain flowing towards Setharis, one that drank up all hope and exuded despair.
“We face so many with so few,” Eva paced at my side, dressed in what was salvageable of her dented battle-plate, helm on and visor up over her mask. I tried to pick up her war hammer, and failed, so she held it to her back with one hand so I could lash it in place.
“We only have to kill one enemy here today,” I replied, fumbling the leather cords into tight knots. “If we are successful then his army will disintegrate and the daemons will flee or turn on each other.”
“Let us pray we arrive in time,” she said, looking up at the gulls screeching and flapping above us, ever hopeful of a cargo of fresh fish being unloaded.
My mind reached across the sea to Cillian and found her burning bright atop the outer wall. At first I felt her terror, and then her relief on realising that it was me and not the enemy. She already knew what kind of magus was coming for them.
Hurry, Edrin. Already their power saps our will to fight. The defenders are untrained, with only a handful of magi and wardens to lead them. If the enemy are able to compel us to open the gates then all will be lost.
I pulsed reassuring feelings of my proximity. Here we live or here we die, but we will do it together.
How many are you? she asked, images of an armed fleet with seven magi in her mind.
Fuck. I eyed Bryden’s mad, burning eyes. Only Eva and I. Everybody else is dead, or will be soon.
She covered her despair well and rallied. With you we now stand a better chance. She was not hopeful. If what Abrax-Masud said was the truth then he was the oldest elder magus in existence, a god in power and knowledge. And worse, he was a tyrant enslaved by the Scarrabus. I was Setharis’ only defence against his type of magic but he was far more powerful than me.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, and stroked Dissever’s hilt, allowing my dread weapon’s bloodlust to seep into me and bolster my confidence. I was afraid. I knew exactly what to expect now. Every bone in my body shouted for me to flee as soon as we hit land. But that was the old me raising its ugly head. On this day Eva stood to my right, the most stubborn magus I ever met, and the memories of Lynas and Charra stood on my left, the bravest and most wonderful fools of friends I had ever met, or ever would. I was doing the right thing for once. I would do them proud or die trying. Their daughter Layla was behind those city walls, a piece of both my best friends, and I would not let anything lay a stinking claw on her if any drop of blood or magic remained in this broken body.
The sinuous towers of the gods were dark against the cloud. They coughed and spluttered and spat magic as the immortal guardians of the city fought to return. Even this far from the city I could feel them frantically straining against their chains, becoming desperate. It felt like the fabric of the world was being stretched taught around us, and yet not quite ready to burst. They were not going to be in time. It was up to the city’s mortal wardens to stop the Scarrabus queen from freeing the dread prisoner from its tomb deep beneath the city. Our gods would be late, but I was uncharacteristically right on time, sober, and spoiling for a fight.
I slung my pack over my shoulder, containing my letters and the wooden box with our remaining wards.
Eva gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Some of my terror subsided. Behind the steel mask her eye creased in a smile. Together we had faced the Magash Mora and killed that mountainous beast of stolen flesh and blood sorcery. Nothing we faced here could possibly be as nightmare-inducing as that.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, my words almost carried away by sea spray and Bryden’s howling wind.
She nodded. “No, I mean, thank you for everything. For saving my life time and again, and for… for being good company.”
She snorted. “You have done the same for me. Don’t go getting all weepy on me now, big man.”
“Hah! No, it’s just that I may never get a chance to say it again.” She clutched the prow as the keel scraped hidden debris beneath us. We were close to land now and the bay was filled with charred wreckage of ships torched during the beginning of Black Autumn.
The ship collided with something heavy, forcing me to grab her hand to keep my feet. “Maybe it doesn’t need to be said,” I added. “But sometimes I like to.”
This time she did not let go of my hand as the ship drew into Westford Docks. We picked up speed and the sailors started to look worried – we had not, after all, told them we would not be slowing down. Eva and I readied ourselves for the impact. She locked her visor in place, then let me jump onto her armoured back and wrap my arms around her gorget and the hilt of her war hammer. We nodded gravely to the brave sailors steering us directly into death. Bryden was finally succumbing to the torrent of magic flo
wing through him. His skin rippled from the inside and I could see the uncontrolled exultation in his eyes. His forehead bulged and broke in a welter of pus as a third eye pushed through bone.
“You had better be victorious after this,” he said through gritted teeth. “May the gods watch over you.” He lifted a fist in final salute.
The docks grew from a misty distant line into a thick, barnacled solid stone wall with alarming speed. The sailors panicked and tried to turn the ship. Bryden threw them overboard with gusts of wind.
I tensed every muscle as Eva braced to run. The prow of the ship crunched into stone, timbers rending.
Eva leapt, carrying us up and over onto dry land as the ship crumpled and shattered behind us, accompanied by screams of tortured wood. Bryden’s magic snuffed out as the mast fell and shattered his skull. It was a quick death, and better than the pyre. He might well have saved the world with his sacrifice. I just hoped somebody would still be around at the end of this to tell his tale.
Eva landed in stride running, a heavy bruising thump that had my teeth rattling. For a moment I worried about the wards being jostled, but if they’d broken I’d already be dead.
Cobbles cracked beneath her steel-shot feet with every long, leaping step that carried us faster than any horse towards the city walls. Warehouses and workshops blurred past as I held on grimly, praying I didn’t fall.
The streets were thankfully deserted – if Eva had collided with anybody then they would have died instantly, their bones shattering against her armoured body. Thankfully it seemed they had all fled for safety behind the city walls, which grew ever higher and more intimidating as we sped closer. Not that it would help much if the enemy had more alchemic bombs like they had used on Dun Bhailiol and the Templarum Magestus.
I could feel the enemy as a mass of human fear and daemonic stench. The daemons were being driven ahead of the enslaved humans. Being this close to Setharis had to be paining the daemons already, but once inside the city walls they would soon die off, consumed by the daemon-toxic air of the city itself. Then it would be left to human slaves to carry out the will of the Scarrabus and their pet tyrant.
I would not allow that to happen. “Hurry,” I snarled.
Eva didn’t answer. She was already moving as fast as only a knight could. Finally the walls loomed above us and she skidded to a stop in a spray of stone cobbles and sparks. She put me down and I cut the lashes holding her war hammer in place. She gripped it in both hands, ready to wreak havoc. I could feel the eyes on us from above, the people on the walls squinting down, curious to see two insane warriors out in the open facing the advancing horde.
I held Dissever tight, but everything going well Eva would see to my safety and it wouldn’t see much use. One more knife, however deadly, could achieve little here. It disagreed and demanded I create an ocean of blood.
The ground before the walls was already littered with corpses, blown apart by magical or physical missiles. Green and yellow tatters of the Free Towns, Skallgrim fallen shields, and horrific daemons. A single halrúna lay sprawled on the earth. His magical charms and horned stag-mask hadn’t preventing the crossbow bolt from puncturing his heart.
They must’ve been the first wave sent to take measure of Setharis’ defences. The enemy tide came on, apparently unimpressed. Even from this distance Abrax-Masud’s power was at work on the city’s defenders, a diffuse miasma sapping strength and sowing despair. Soon he would begin taking minds and then the gates to the city would swing open to welcome him in.
Skirmishers swarmed ahead of the orderly shield wall of Skallgrim, who beat their axes and spears against wood as they advanced with the spearmen of the Free Towns Alliance behind them.
Fewer bone vultures and giant flying lizards filled the air than in the Clanholds. Countless smaller daemons loped and crawled and scuttled towards us, a bewildering array of everything I had ever seen in Arcanum scrolls. Those annoyingly swift dog-daemons, glinting shard beasts scuttling on legs made of crystal knives, snake-men, tusked boaram, and in the lead his two ravak, each ten foot high and twenty long, bearing dark crowns and long jagged swords a match to Dissever. One alone had managed to severely injure Elder Shadea before she had dispatched it.
Dissever pulsed in my hand, hungry and happy. Oh what fun! Shall we play with them, you and I?
I patted its hilt and chuckled nervously. “Won’t that be a fun surprise for them.”
They have used my spawn for years beyond number. No more will these so-called lords of the flesh rule the great devourers. I have consumed the rest of the infected left behind in my realm, and these are the last of the enslaved. Prepare the way, my pet.
“Pfft. You are my pet,” I muttered, much to its scorn-filled amusement.
Cillian stepped up onto the battlements in her blue robe, golden wards glimmering and curly hair billowing like a mane. She pointed and her voice boomed out proclaiming for all to hear, “There stands Evangeline of House Avernus and the tyrant Edrin Walker, slayers of the Magash Mora, the destroyers of the traitor god Nathair, the Thief of Life.”
Hope swelled, and the combined will of the people erupted like an inferno in my mind’s eye, temporarily burning away Abrax-Masud’s despair. More and more strands of his magic focused on me, all crushing power and devious will.
Distance be thanked, I held him off and bent over the corpse of the Skallgrim halrúna. I had paid careful attention to my grandmother’s runes as she opened the ways through the Shroud to send me tumbling into the realms. I had a very different use in mind.
With the two ravak speeding ahead of the horde, I carefully set my pack down and then pricked a finger on Dissever’s barbs, drawing blood to trace those same runes on the splayed corpse of the shaman. No one on the walls was close enough to see me practicing blood sorcery.
If the Scarrabus wanted to play with ravak, then so would I, and mine was bigger and badder and madder. The magic-rich blood of the shaman would provide enough power to pierce the Shroud and summon Dissever here. Angharad had correctly foreseen the need for a daemon ally here in the flesh to prevail – she’d just got the wrong daemon and the wrong flesh.
It was yet another thing the Arcanum wouldn’t forgive. A tyrant and blood sorcerer? Even if we survived, I would burn for this. The city would never tolerate yet another monster sticking around to plague their sleep.
As I readied myself to activate the ritual, a grey, masked figure flung a length of rope from the wall and slid down, walking towards me with knives out and ready.
I glared at Layla in her nightfang assassin garb. I was about to order her back to safety when the rope was cut from above and it piled up in a heap behind her. Nobody was willing to risk that left dangling. It was too late. Lynas and Charra’s daughter was exactly where she wanted to be.
“I know what comes for us all,” she said. “You are the only hope we have. I am here to watch your back, Uncle.”
Eva had been moving to block her but I waved her off. She looked at me curiously. “Uncle?”
I nodded. “Uncle through friendship not blood,” I said. “Eva.
Layla. Great, now we’re all acquainted.” I removed the wooden box of wards from my pack and tossed the rest to Layla. “There’s a letter in there for you if this all goes to the pigs. Keep it safe will you?”
She nodded and set it down next to the wall. “Hey Eva,” I said, grinning evilly at Dissever. “You were asking about how I got this back? Well, here we go. Try not to piss yourself.”
I reached out to warn those whose minds I had touched before, Cillian, Layla and her guard Nevin, the leader of the Smilers gang, Rosha bone-face, and a hundred other scum across the city. I didn’t want them panicking and attacking us. I said the only thing that could possibly give them hope after feeling the despairing touch of the enemy: Tell all that can hear you that Edrin Walker has returned. The tyrant of Setharis fights with you! And he has brought the biggest and baddest fucking daemon they will ever see to fight the enemy.
Eva and Layla backed away in a hurry. People stared from the city walls, overwhelmed by awe and terror as it kept coming.
Over twenty foot high and forty long, Dissever was a monster even among daemons. And I was patting its tail like a proud parent. I couldn’t exactly reach much else.
I waved my jagged knife at them. “This here in my hand is only a little part of Dissever, and this is the rest.”
“Sweet Lady Night,” Eva and Layla said together. “It’s huge.” An enormous black blade slid from Dissever’s flesh and settled into its hands. “Mine is much larger that this fool’s weapon, and I know how to use it.”
Before I could process that Dissever was making a distinctively human dirty joke, the enemy began to charge.
With Dissever at my side, at least we now stood a chance.
CHAPTER 35
Abrax-Masud began forcing his will upon the populace. Every human mind was different and it was an astonishing display of skill and power for the elder tyrant to split his attention in thousands of directions all at once. Atop the city walls, bows drooped and eyes glazed over. He would take them and turn them upon the Setharii gods, intent on storming the pit where the Scarrabus’ god-beast was chained. He was willingly dooming this world, and their damnable queen even had him convinced that this whole thing was his idea. It had turned his overblown pride into chains that he could never escape, not without admitting that he had been entirely wrong for well over a thousand years – and if I knew one thing about magi it was that as we got older and more powerful, so did our arrogance. There would be no last-minute change of heart.
God of Broken Things Page 29
