Maig's Hand

by Phillip Henderson

  Danielle was already frantically buckling up her trousers and moving towards the balcony door.

  “Lea, what is happening? Open the door!”

  The woman lay motionless on the hearthstones. Whether she was alive or dead, Danielle did not know nor care. The flames were spreading rapidly, filling the room with a thick choking smoke and an unbearable heat. She had to get out before it was too late. She opened the balcony door and shutters and emerged onto a small rickety terrace. The flames behind her threw dancing orange light down onto the foggy street below and over the mist-shrouded facades of the brick tenements across the narrow lane. Beyond that there was nothing else to see but an impenetrable fog. She tossed the sword into the street below and climbed over the balcony railing and lowered herself down as far as she could before letting go. The fall knocked the wind out of her, but voices from above forced her to her feet. She grabbed the sword and gritting her teeth against her cuts and bruises she sprinted blindly down the street, her boots splashing through the water in the gutters and pounding against the cobbles. Apart from the occasional night lantern hanging over a doorway, there was little enough light to see a few steps ahead. A dark alley opened to her left and she darted into it only to have something catch her ankle and send her sprawling across the cobbles. The hard cold stone scraped her knees and hands raw and her sword clattered away into the darkness ahead. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, her breath coming in great heaves, but she made herself stop for a moment and listen as she quickly got up and buttoned up her tattered shirt and waistcoat. The palace bell tolled somewhere in the distance. There was a dog barking nearby and more than a few rats rustled in the rubbish around her. Apart from that there was nothing by an eerie quiet.

  That’s when she heard hurried footsteps coming down the street in her direction.

  ***

  Even before the door burst open at the top of the cellar stairs, Keira felt an unease begin to stir in the ether around her. A cold breeze had touched her face, drawing her from her trance. It was a particularly bad omen on a night such as this.

  A moment before, she had been watching in her mind’s eye as the fog she and her colleagues had conjured from the cold waters of the lake rolled into the city like creeping fingers closing around the neck of a sleeping victim. Now she knew they had a more urgent problem. A bloody disaster if it wasn’t dealt with immediately.

  “Mistress. The princess …” Mr Davis said from the top of the stairs.

  “I know.”

  “…there’s a fire on the top storey of the house. Lea is injured and Pete and Yowl are dead.”

  “I know!”

  “Is anyone giving chase?” Allius demanded.

  Much to Keira’s chagrin their Lord Marshal was already heading to the foot of the cellar stairs. He’d always been too quick to use his sword before his brain. “Allius, wait! Mason, Bale, you see to this, please. Have Loumal carry Lea down here to me. Willard and Lock have just walked right past the prisoner. She’s hiding in the alley five houses up the street towards the well. The left-hand side of the street and hurry, I’m beginning to lose contact with her. Use the men guarding the house, and when you have her, get yourselves into the catacombs. We’ll find you there.”

  “Twenty men?” Mason looked less than pleased by her orders. “The palace guard are closing in on us, and this fire will draw them all the quicker and you know damned-well we are watched from the skies. We’ll be picked off like rats on an open plain despite the conjured fog.”

  “Allius and I will protect you from within the catacombs. Now go!”

  Both men grabbed their sword belts from where they had left them lying on a dusty crate when they’d pulled on their ceremonial robes and ran up the stairs. Smoke had started to drift in through the doorway and the old timbers of the house creaked and groaned above their heads as the flames took hold. The wards would not keep it from being noticed for much longer. Even now, Keira could feel them weakening.

  “We shouldn’t have left her with Henry’s niece.” Allius was bulking up his sword belt and did not look the least bit happy with their situation.

  Keira ignored him as she cast a handful of liltha powder at the cellar wall and uttered a spell in the old tongue. She didn’t need him to tell her what she already knew. But it wasn’t as if anyone more senior than dear Lea could be spared from the preparations of the ritual.

  The blue particles of the liltha powder came alive in the lantern light and a portal to a tunnel beyond the thick stone wall of the cellar opened up. Loumal had appeared at the door at the top of the stairs and was descending in his lumbering oafish way. A bloodied and unconscious Lea hung limply over the dullard’s thick shoulder. Keira handed the towering manservant a lantern and gestured him towards the swirling blue vortex. As soon as he had stepped through and disappeared into the catacombs beyond, she said to Allius, “I’ll follow Mason and Bale with my knife. I want you to go to the South Gate and open the door to Vellum’s forge.” She drew a crystal orb from the pocket of her robe and tossed it to him.

  Allius gaped at her. “You cannot be serious. Lord Kane may have been anointed, but the blood letting can’t begin until night’s darkest hour. And I thought we agreed. This should be released in a small village off the island, where there would be no survivors to tell tales?”

  “If we are to capture de Brie and get clear of the city, there’s no other choice. We need a diversion.”

  “And the effect on the ceremony? The blood cannot be left to cool … and what of the faithful who cannot conjure a portal and escape into the catacomb? They’ll be slaughtered along with half of Amthenium.”

  “Allius! Just do it.” At that, Keira, jumped into the portal.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Where’s the captain of the watch!”

  Faith drew her horse up at the city side of Amthenium’s towering southern gate. The structure, although repaired on dozens of occasions across the centuries, had been standing since Kathius’ time. The stone gargoyles and dragons that graced its parapets were dark and ominous against the torchlight as they stared down on the square below. Faith’s mount snorted and skittered under her as if feeling their stare.

  “Where is the captain of the watch?” she shouted again.

  James, Bastion and twenty mounted soldiers were reining in behind her. The thunder of hooves and the sudden emergence of a sizeable troop of horsemen from the fog that had rolled in off the lake in the last few minutes had seen the gatemen rise quickly from where they had been sitting around a small campfire and grab their weapons. The guards on the parapets had shouldered crossbows, ready to shoot. A man in a sergeant’s coat pulled on over armour lifted his arm, signalling that there was no threat, and told the men to go back to their watch.

  “I said where is your captain?”

  “The local priest sent for him, Milady. He’s gone down to the wharves. We were not told why,” the sergeant said.

  Before he could say more the heavy timber door to the gate tower ground open and a man in knight’s armour began descending the stairs, sheathing his sword. “Madam General?”

  Faith didn’t recognise the knight; though his armour marked him as a member of the Lunwraithian aristocracy. He was likely one of the many men from the member realms who offered service to the Grand Assembly, and helped fill the higher ranks of the city and palace guard.

  “We got your message,” he said. “The guard has been doubled, the portcullis lowered. What is it that we should fear?”

  “Has a wagon come this way since the last bell?” she asked.

  The knight ordered one of his men to see to the General’s horse.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Without a doubt. Apart from the message from the palace to secure the gates and the Captain being called away by Father Portis, it’s been a quiet watch.”

  “Not as quiet as you might think.” Faith swung down from her horse, relieved at least that Dee was likely still i
nside the city somewhere. “The Lady de Brie has been abducted, and is believed to be in the back of a wagon last seen heading this way.”

  She saw that the seriousness of the situation was not lost on the knight and the guards close enough to hear her.

  “We have not seen it. But how might we serve?”

  “Keep this gate secure and watch for an attack from outside.”

  “From who?”

  “Who is not important; just be ready to defend this gate,” Faith said, pulling off her gloves. “Now, if you don’t mind, have one of your men bring me a sword belt from your armoury, and I’d like the use of your fire yonder while we wait for word of the search.”

  “The officer’s hall is at your service, Milady. It would be more fitting …”

  “The fire will suffice. Now that sword and a long coat, if you please.” Faith turned to the soldiers who had ridden with them from the Gate of the Saints. All looked eager to serve.

  “Do any of you know what the occupants of the wagon look like?”

  Several said that they did.

  “Then divide yourselves into two groups and add your number to the search of the Downs. Begin in the streets yonder and move north until you link up with your sergeant. Check every street, alley, bridge and square as you go, and if you find anyone who has seen the wagon or you suspect has seen the wagon you are to bring them back here without delay.”

  “Yes, General.” One of the senior soldiers drew his horse around and barked orders at his men. Then the entire troop galloped away into the torch lit fog.

  Faith shivered and crouched down to warm her hands in front of the campfire that was burning in front of the gate tower. For a spring night the fog was unusually cold. It was common for it to roll in off the lake at this hour during spring but this one felt to be ill conceived. She ignored the superstitious chill that went through her and listened to the retreating horsemen, inwardly praying that Danielle was safe and they’d have her back soon. James and Bastion joined her around the fire, if only reluctantly. She knew both would have preferred stay in the saddle and join the search but had silently wed themselves to her command.

  The knight poured three steaming mugs of tea from the jug hanging over the fire. Faith had managed a few sips when the sergeant emerged from the tower with a sword belt and a black wool long coat, which was worn by the city night watch to ward off the cold. She put her mug aside and stood to pull on the coat, grateful the soldier had thought to find the smallest size. Then she belted the scabbard weapon to her waist. Once done, and out of habit, she drew the blade and tested its weight and balance. Satisfied it would suffice if they were forced to fight she sheathed it again and sat back down. All the while, Bastion had been explaining to the knight how Arkaelyon’s ambassador had been abducted—or at least how they believed it had been done—and what plans to secure her safe return were in play.

  “Might I be so bold and make a suggestion?” the knight asked, glancing at Faith as she picked up her cup again.

  She nodded that he should speak.

  “What about using hounds?”

  She frowned at the young gentleman. Everyone knew that her uncle kept no kennel master or hounds at the palace. He preferred his library and painting to the blood sports of kings. The nearest kennels were on Lord Tricket’s estate in Pelorus and too far away to be of use to them tonight.

  “You know of hounds here in Amthenium?”

  “Yes, I know of a breeder here in Amthenium, a friend’s father. He lives not far from here. His dogs are not the best of quality, I’ll admit, but if scented well enough they’d find the ambassador with little trouble one would think. At the very least they might speed the search.”

  This was a godsend. “Then fetch them, and quickly.”

  Before she could say more, James and Bastion had tossed the remainder of the tea in their mugs on the fire and were hurriedly climbing to their feet.

  “Get the dogs to the Gate of the Saints, as quickly as you can. We’ll start there,” James said.

  “I’ll fetch one of Dee’s gowns from the palace.” Bastion was already moving to where their horses had been tethered at the bottom of the steps to the gate tower. The knight was ordering the sergeant to take command, and moving quickly towards his own horse.

  Before James could do the same, Faith said, “James, wait. We need to talk.” Need was the operative word, not want. Something had been troubling her greatly since first they knew Dee had been abducted, and James had a right to know of it. “Bastion, if we don’t hear from the search party in the next half hour we’ll meet you at the gate. If it’s otherwise, you’ll find a messenger waiting for you,” she said.

  The undersecretary acknowledged her directive, swung up onto his mount and galloped away, the fog quickly closing around him as he crossed the square, the captain of the watch riding beside him.

  “There’s only one problem with dogs,” James said as he crouched back down beside the fire. “They’ll hear us coming a mile away.”

  He placed his sword across his knees and looked expectantly at her. The worry in his face brought a lump to Faith’s throat. It gave her pause, and left her wondering how to say what she must, she took another sip from her mug, braced herself and looked him in the eye again. “If things don’t go well and we can’t secure her release—”

  “We are going to secure her release,” James replied, anger in his eyes and his voice stiff.

  “I know. But if we can’t, you know what this ritual will mean to her soul and to the legacy of Druid’s Bane if it is allowed to proceed?”

  He clamped his jaw shut and stared angrily into the fire.

  Faith sighed and put her cup aside. She knew she wasn’t handling this well so she decided to just come out and say it. “Dee made me promise that if it was necessary, I would give her a merciful death. I thought you should know, that’s all.”

  James nodded grimly.

  “James, I …”

  “I understand why it has to be done,” he said, cutting her off.

  Faith nodded and let the matter go. He clearly did not want to discuss it further. The set of his jaw was such she suspected he would die trying to save Dee before any mercy killing was necessary. And as a General, that kind of blind bravery worried her. It was more likely to achieve the latter. Not that she dared suggest he should return to the palace. That would have been a waste of breath and likely made things worse.

  A shout came down from the wall, breaking the uncomfortable silence; “Someone is approaching.”

  Faith quickly stood. She hadn’t heard anything other than the distant tolling of the palace bells. “From within the city or from the wharves?”

  “From the wharves.”

  She strode quickly to the portcullis and looked through the iron latticework. Torches sat in iron brackets fixed to the old weathered stone of the city walls. Their flickering flames fell upon the white wall of eerie mist beyond the gate making it impossible to see anything of the buildings and roads that occupied the mile or so of land between the city wall and the edge of the lake. One could barely see a dozen yards beyond the portcullis.

  Then Faith heard it.

  “A wagon or coach and at least three horsemen,” James said at her side.

  Whoever was approaching was doing so at a good clip, and doubly so given the conditions. A faint light appeared in the gloom beyond the gate and grew larger. It was swaying wildly. Likely a lantern fixed to the wagon or coach.

  Faith waited until she could see the dark outline of men and horses moving like shadows out in the fog and then demanded loudly, “Who goes there?”

  “Open the gate,” a voice thundered back to them.

  “Name your business or you’ll be fired upon,” Faith shouted.

  “Sergeant Milagan. What’s going on up there?”

  “General, begging your pardon, but that’s our Watch Captain, Sir Kilque, who approaches.”

  “Then lift the portcullis.”

  The shout went
up and the portcullis grated in its grooves as it was drawn up into the stone arch of the gate. The men in the chain house had time to lift it barely high enough to allow safe passage when the cart and three mounted guards burst out of the fog and rode through the archway of the towering gate. Faith and James quickly stepped aside and watched as the Watch Captain and his men drew up beside the steps to the gate tower.

  Sir Kilque tossed the reins aside and jumped down from the front bench of the cart. “Close the gates and lower the portcullis,” he shouted, before helping the elderly priest who had been sitting beside him disembark.

  Soldiers rushed past Faith and James, as they moved quickly to obey their captain’s command.

  What had the watch commander so agitated Faith couldn’t tell, but the stench of blood and sulphur that had accompanied the cart as it raced past them under the archway and whatever lay under the tarpaulin covering its tray made her curious to say the least, and she, with James at her side, approached the cart at a stiff walk.

  The knight looked up in surprise as they emerged into the torchlight. “Madam General?” He seemed to recall something and quickly added, “The gate is secure as you ordered. How might we be of service?”

  “You should know that the Lady de Brie has been abducted. We believe she is being held somewhere in the Downs. A search is underway, but who ever has her could try and escape the city via this gate, given its location.”

  Sir Kilque looked as dumbfounded as the Lunwraithian knight had, though his armour marked him as a member of the Abien gentry and unlikely friend or fan of the Arkaelyon royal family.

  “How many should we expect if it proves so?

  “We don’t know. Likely no more than several hundred.”

  The weight of responsibility seemed to harden his resolve. “We will hold.”

  “My uncle will be sending reinforcements as we speak.”