Orion: The Council of Beasts

by Darius Hinks

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Clorana, looking shocked. ‘There are no traitors in the Cáder Donann.’

  ‘Not here, child. My visit is only brief. I seek weapons and warriors, nothing else. My prey is Lord Cyanos.’

  ‘Cyanos,’ spat Damára, leaning heavily on her staff. ‘Good. I am glad you mean to finally rid us of that devious wretch.’

  Haldus was shocked by the venom in her voice. ‘What has he done to earn your hatred?’

  Clorana answered before her mother could. ‘Since you left he has tried repeatedly to seize your lands, father. It is not just the daemons who have assaulted our home. We have repelled Cyanos countless times.’ She ran a finger absent-mindedly across the scars that circled her eyes. ‘It is his hawk-masked idiots that have cost us so many lives.’ She grimaced. ‘But now he hides in his mountain, filling the valleys with smoke and screams.’

  Haldus clenched his fists. ‘I should have killed him when I had the chance, but when Orion saw some good in him I thought I must be mistaken. Cyanos tricked me into an unwinnable attack. It cost me half of our kinsmen. And the other half will remain trapped forever in a sorcerer’s prison, unless I can pry some truth from Cyanos’s lying lips.’

  Damára shivered. ‘My dreams have been haunted by that false king. I knew he was linked to this plague.’

  Haldus nodded. ‘I need weapons,’ he glanced at the youngsters watching from the doorway, ‘and warriors. Then I mean to bring his mountain down around his ears.’

  Damára shook her head. ‘Turas-Alva has grown strange since you last visited. We can round up some more warriors for you, but you’d be ill-advised to openly approach Cyanos. Besides, his home has hidden itself.’ She waved at her empty sockets. ‘You’ll need my help to gain access.’

  Haldus raised his eyebrows. In her youth, Damára had been a powerful weaver of spells, but of late she had only given the vaguest prophecies and predictions.

  ‘I’m not as dull-witted as you think,’ she continued. ‘I can still see the odd truth. I can still navigate the old paths.’ She pressed one of her fingers to the leaf on her brow. ‘There is a high pass drawn in my mind, still visible above the clouds. I could take you there without his sentries observing your approach.’ She shrugged. ‘It would at least give you a little time to learn his secrets before he knows he has guests.’

  Haldus stared at her, shocked. Then took her hand and kissed it. ‘Damára, forgive me. I tried to convince myself that I only needed soldiers, but your help is worth more to me than a hundred spears.’

  Damára shrugged. ‘I know.’

  The wildcats yowled as the chamber grew darker. It was a low, alien sound that even Haldus found unnerving. The branches in the walls crushed closer to each other, creaking, snapping and blocking out the morning light. As Damára worked her spell, she whirled blindly around the chamber, feeling her way by tapping the horns of her staff against the ground and muttering indecipherable rhymes. With each blow, the horns dragged shapes from the wooden floor – gnarled, knotted spirits made of moonlight. They moaned and wheezed as they gathered around her, mimicking her dance and waving their branch-like limbs.

  Prince Haldus was sitting at the centre of the bower, encircled by a series of runes Damára had scratched into the bark. He was also surrounded by his kinsmen. At his command, Clorana had gathered all the warriors that remained in the Cáder Donann. There were less than fifty of them, but they gripped their bows and swords proudly as they settled around him – proud for a chance to serve their prince.

  As Damára’s dance grew more frenetic and her words more wild, dozens more of the spirits arrived and joined their ghostly voices to hers.

  Finally, she drew a blade from her robes and lurched towards the circles.

  Haldus felt a brief moment of panic as she rushed in his direction, lifting the long, curved blade over her head with a garbled scream. Then he relaxed as she hammered it down into the ridged floor, just inches from his leg.

  The chamber juddered.

  Light pulsed briefly from the hole Damára had made and then the spirits all hurled themselves into it, vanishing from view and plunging the chamber back into darkness.

  Haldus shook his head, as confused as ever by Damára’s strange behaviour.

  ‘Are you sure this will work?’ he asked, peering into the darkness. ‘Damára?’

  She gave no reply. Instead, she drew the knife from the wood, rose to her feet and began stabbing at the dark.

  For a moment, Haldus thought she had lost her mind. Then, he noticed that for every slash of the knife, a piece of the darkness fell away. And, as Damára sliced, Haldus saw that the circle of furs was no longer on the floor of her bower. Each tear in the darkness revealed a new scene: the cold, rain-lashed outcrop of a mountain.

  It only took Damára a few more minutes to cut down the remaining shadows and then, as she tumbled from view, Haldus found himself on a rocky peak, blinking in the morning light as he looked out across the fog-mantled peaks of Turas-Alva.

  ‘By the gods!’ laughed Haldus, looking around for Damára. She was sprawled on her back a few feet away, breathing heavily and trembling. A wildcat was sitting on her chest, licking itself with an air of cool, self-satisfaction.

  His warriors were scattered around her, gripping their weapons tightly and studying the surrounding slopes for signs of attack.

  ‘You needn’t sound so surprised,’ muttered Damára, without looking in his direction. ‘I was once something other than the mother of your daughter.’

  Haldus felt his cheeks burning and was glad Damára could not see his embarrassment. She had the measure of him. He had heard tales of her power, but during their years together he had rarely witnessed it. To send the whole group of them through the Great Weave and land them miles away, on another mountain top, was sorcery to match anything in Ariel’s court.

  Clorana climbed to her feet, oblivious to her father’s discomfort and looked around. ‘See?’ she muttered, pointing her bow at the misty slopes below. ‘Cyanos is as dangerous as the plague. What’s he doing down there?’

  Haldus saw that his daughter was trembling too and realised that the whole mountain was shivering and jerking. He stood and followed her gaze. The mountainside he remembered was gone, hidden behind a boiling mass of virulent green clouds and flickering, ghostly lights. It was hard to see anything clearly, but the clouds were clearly masking a disaster of some kind. As the fumes shifted, Haldus caught glimpses of movement, movement on a grand scale.

  Clorana turned to face him, her eyes wide.

  She looked afraid, but Haldus noticed excitement in her eyes too. He realised that a part of her was thrilled to be abroad with her father, joining him on one of his adventures.

  He glared back at her. ‘I’ve seen this before. The plague has come further than I thought.’

  Damára took the wildcat in her arms and climbed to her feet. ‘The plague?’ She walked towards them and one of the warriors rushed to guide her, stopping her before she reached the precipice.

  ‘What kind of plague causes a mountain to tremble?’ she asked.

  Haldus grimaced. ‘Whatever daemon has set itself against us, is hungry for life.’ He shook his head, unsure what to do next.

  ‘Is Cyanos definitely down there?’ asked his daughter.

  ‘I can’t be sure,’ replied Haldus, ‘but I believe so.’

  ‘Then, plague or not, we know where our route lies.’ She pointed her bow at a narrow, high-sided pass, snaking down through the icy rocks. ‘You said we need to find Cyanos. Let’s find him.’

  He softened his expression and nodded, making for the path and signalling for the others to follow.

  He paused at the top of the slope and shook his head. The climb would be hard, even for such sure-footed travellers. There was a good reason this spur of the mountain was unoccupied – the path that led away from it was a sheer drop over icy, smooth slopes. The rain was still pounding down and Haldus realised that Damára would not be ab
le to join them in the descent. There was a brief argument, but he finally managed to convince her by asking, if she plummeted to her death, who could spirit them back to the Cáder Donann?

  Damára watched them as they started to climb, then headed off to find shelter from the rain, still cradling the sodden wildcat.

  Haldus cursed as he climbed, frustrated by the slow progress. It was almost impossible to find sure footholds and, every time he did, the mountain would judder and almost send them all plummeting to their death. All they could do was hold tight and pray each time there was a tremor.

  After several hours of this tortuous progress, they entered the clouds of green smog that they had glimpsed from the mountaintop. It was oddly warm in the fumes and they were now almost blind. Haldus wondered if Damára might not have done better than the rest of them. Each time he glimpsed his daughter’s face though, he saw the determined glint in her eyes and it drove him on. Cyanos was down there somewhere and he held the key to freeing his kinsmen and Laelia.

  After another hour of climbing, the fumes stung Haldus’s eyes and burned his lungs. He heard the others above him, coughing and spluttering and knew they were feeling the same. He had noticed something equally unnerving. With every step he took the air grew warmer. By rights, at this time of year, the whole mountain should have been covered in frost, but instead the paths were slick with moss and pockets of brackish water. Haldus could feel sweat trickling down his chest. The fumes drifting over them were moist and warm, tropical almost: the sweet, rotten stink of the plague.

  The mountain shivered again, shedding rocks and causing Haldus and the others to flatten themselves against the rock face. The rumbling continued for several minutes and, once it had faded, another sound emerged from the clouds – an angry, urgent buzzing. Haldus felt a mixture of anger and disgust as he recognised the familiar sound of his enemy.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Clorana.

  Haldus looked grim. ‘We need to find a place to stand and fight.’ He carried on climbing, trying to move a little faster, but in his rush he slipped on the wet rock and felt his legs go from under him.

  Clorana howled and reached out to grab him, latching on to his hand just in time.

  Haldus was large and powerfully built. As he dangled in his daughter’s grip, she began to slide free of her handhold. The next climber in line managed to grab onto her shoulders, just before father and daughter fell to their deaths.

  Haldus grasped the rocks again and, when she was sure he was safe, Clorana let go of him. The three of them panted heavily for a moment, conscious of how close they had come to death. The rest of the climbers looked anxiously down at them and checked their own handholds.

  Haldus sighed and was about to start climbing again when he heard another loud buzzing. Clorana’s scream had alerted something to their presence.

  ‘There!’ he cried, nodding at a long, narrow lip of rock, just a few feet away. ‘Make for the ledge and draw your weapons.’

  As the buzzing sound grew louder, Haldus made it to the ledge and grabbed his bow. The others did their best to reach him, but having just seen Haldus nearly fall, none of them were willing to rush.

  An enormous, boulder-sized fly hurtled from the fumes. It was fat, glistening and its carapace was layered in plates of rusted iron. A long, shiny proboscis was dangling from its face and pus-green flesh was hanging from its intestines in a lacy mess of skin and muscle.

  Haldus had no time to shoot his arrow. The fly was on him as soon as it appeared. All he could do was use the arrow like a spear, jabbing it into the monster’s face. The arrow passed through one of its three eyes and showered Haldus with bloody fluid.

  He howled in disgust and pain as the liquid ate into his skin and the insect battered against the rock face, thrashing its four, ragged wings.

  An arrow sliced into one of its remaining two eyes, producing another arc of yellow liquid.

  Haldus saw that Clorana was now beside him on the ledge, preparing to shoot a second arrow.

  The fly swung around in her direction, raising a quivering nest of mandibles and stingers.

  Clorana loosed another arrow but she slipped and the shot went wide, whizzing off through the yellow fumes.

  The fly brought its poisonous, armoured limbs down towards her face, but Haldus was faster. He had drawn his sword and, before the monster reached his daughter he leapt from the ledge, clutching the blade in both hands, landing on the fly’s back and hammering the sword down through its head.

  The monster spasmed beneath him, thrashing its wings even more wildly, then plunged from the ledge, taking Haldus with it.

  Clorana screamed as her father vanished from view, still stabbing at the creature.

  Haldus and the fly plummeted through the clouds. The thing thrashed beneath him, full of dreadful life, but it could not coordinate its wings. They drummed uselessly against its bloated abdomen, without rhythm or power. All Haldus could do was hang onto a piece of rotten flesh and wait for the inevitable impact.

  Briefly, the fly managed to right itself. It gave all four wings one powerful beat and swooped up out of its dive. Haldus exhaled the breath he had been holding and prepared to continue the fight.

  Then, as one of its wings gave way, the fly lost control and smashed back into the mountainside, showering them both in blood and pus.

  Pain flashed across Haldus’s face and neck, but he managed to reach out and grasp onto something as the fly dropped away, broken and lifeless.

  Fumes swirled around him and he saw that he was hanging from a shattered branch, jutting out of the mountain like a spear in the flank of a huge beast.

  He grabbed on to the slippery bark with his other hand and hauled himself up with a pained grunt.

  For a few seconds he lay there, hugging the dead branch; eyes closed, heart pounding. He lifted his head to look around. It was hard to see more than a few feet through the clouds, but he made out another, easier path, just below the branch and continued his descent.

  Haldus could hear the distant cries of his kinsmen. Desperate, plaintive calls rang out through the smog, but he gave no reply. Every sound would draw more of the fly creatures and he prayed that his lack of answer might silence them.

  After another ten minutes of clambering, Haldus reached the bottom of the slope. The ground felt odd – tacky and giving, but he did not pause to examine it. He rushed across the floor of the crevasse, staring up at its brutal walls, trying to spot his warriors. The lurid clouds parted for a moment and he caught a glimpse of battle, way overhead. Another huge fly had appeared, wheeling and diving and lashing out with its barbed limbs. Haldus could just about discern the slender shapes of his kin, fighting for their lives as they climbed slowly down the slope. As he watched, Haldus saw one of them stumble and fall. He could not be sure who it was and, as the tiny figure bounced and rolled down the sheer rock face, he prayed that it was not Clorana.

  Haldus guessed that the others were still several minutes’ climb away from him. He cursed and looked around. What to do? If he tried to reach them, he would be attacked every step of the way.

  He took his bow from his back and began shooting arrows through the clouds. The first arrow bounced uselessly from the rocks but the second and third sliced into the daemon-fly. It looped around and hurtled away from the climbing figures, diving towards Haldus.

  He loosed another two shots. The first went wide and the second hit home, but still the fly kept on hurtling towards him.

  The thing was almost on him and, as he drew another arrow, Haldus realised that there was no cover he could take. If this last shot failed, the fly would smash into him.

  He shot the arrow and it thudded into the creature’s abdomen with no discernible effect.

  The fly continued hurtling towards Haldus and he held his hands in front of his face.

  There was a splintering crack as the ground next to Haldus split open. He staggered to one side as a thick, green shoot flew up from the rocks and collided with
the approaching daemon-fly. It pierced the creature like a spear, showering the rocks with gore and causing Haldus to reel away in shock.

  He came to a halt a few feet away and looked back in amazement. The monster was suspended several feet in the air by a green column of growth. It thrashed its wings furiously, but only succeeded in tearing itself apart. Then it fell silent and slid to the ground.

  Haldus shook his head in disbelief as he saw Damára walking towards him through the fumes and mist, feeling her way across the uneven ground with her horned staff.

  She gave him a curt nod then looked up at the others, still climbing down the wall of the crevasse.

  ‘How did you get down here so fast?’ asked Haldus.

  She turned in the direction of his voice. ‘There are many kinds of sight, Haldus. I’ve only lost the unimportant one.’

  He was about to press her further, but Clorana and the warriors had now reached the valley floor and were rushing towards them.

  ‘We must be quick!’ cried Clorana. ‘The whole mountain is coming down.’

  Haldus looked around and saw that his daughter was right. The landscape was juddering with violent tremors. Rocks and pebbles were bouncing down the walls of the crevasse and there was a deep, grinding sound coming from beneath their feet.

  ‘Help Damára,’ he said to one of his subjects and sprinted off down the narrow gulley.

  As he ran, Haldus scoured his surroundings for a familiar landmark. It was hopeless. Everything was warped by the shifting miasma of smoke and spores. Haldus could not see anything that reminded him of his journeys with Orion. The walls of the chasm closed in on him as he ran, and the ground became less stable with each step. As the tremors became more violent, they began opening fissures and spewing dust into the already clouded air. Haldus sank into pools that suddenly appeared before him and stumbled across the trembling ground, but he kept focussed on something up ahead of him. After a few minutes of this running and scrambling, Prince Haldus came to a halt, just inches from a sheer drop. Ahead of him was a mile-long, natural bridge of granite. It arced over the abyss like a slender rope hurled by a god and Haldus nodded, pleased that he had finally found something he remembered. This was the place he had landed with Orion, all those months ago, in the days before the plague.