Maig's Hand

by Phillip Henderson

  James froze. He knew the sword in his hand was useless. There was nothing he could do for the poor woman, despite her eyes pleading him for help. To make matters worse, the horseman blocked their path down the King’s Way. To bolt past was to court certain death. He suspected their only hope now was to take the back streets and try and find the church he’d seen, as they’d ridden from the palace. Hopefully the sanctified ground would protect them long enough to find another way of getting back to the palace.

  Forcing himself to look away from the girl’s pleading eyes, and trying to ignore the bitter sting of impotency he fell, James slowly backed his horse up. “Hold on tight,” he whispered. The priest was trembling with fear. The quiet prayer on his lips was frantic, but James didn’t need to hear the words to know its intent. He reined down a side street and kicked his horse forward. They disappeared into the foggy darkness. The fear of running headlong into another horseman was at the forefront of his mind. But they had no choice. A straight race up the main thoroughfare through the south quarter was not a contest they could win.

  “Where are we going?” the priest asked.

  “Cathedral of the Destitute.’

  “I’m not sure it will help.”

  “Which way?” James had come to a crossroads and drawn up. He thought left was the quickest way, but couldn’t be sure.

  “Right and then left, and then straight across Common’s Square.”

  A set of hooves thundered against the cobbles behind them. James glanced back over his shoulder as he urged his mount on again. The fog was swirling in their wake but he could see a cloaked shadow on horseback and it was quickly gaining on them. To make matters worse flames ahead illuminated the fog. They turned right and ran straight into a conflagration of fire and death. Buildings were ablaze on both sides of the street, and dead littered the cobbles, women, children, men, and soldiers; all had been brutally cut down. Three horsemen were sitting on their mounts laughing and encouraging a family on a second storey balcony to jump, who in turn were screaming piteously as the flames of their burning house began to consume them.

  There was no time to alter course and James galloped straight through the group of the horsemen and out into the dark, smoke and fog filled square beyond. Behind them, the laughter stopped and a shout went up as the horsemen gave chase. James urged his horse to a blind gallop, driving it as hard as he could. The horseman were gaining and while the dim outline of the cathedral began to emerge out of the gloom ahead, he knew it would be touch and go, and even if they made it there was no certainty the sacred ground of the old stone church would protect them.

  Without warning one of the Twenty Three burst out of the gloom ahead. James ducked under the man’s arching sword, shielding Father Portis. But his sudden movement brought their horse down and they were thrown onto the cobblestones. He scrambled back to his feet, but the horse galloped off before he could grab the reins. James quickly helped Father Portis up, threw the old man’s arm over his shoulder and began to run towards the cathedral. Out in the foggy darkness the horsemen slowly circled them. It quickly became clear they were trapped and James stopped, sat the old priest down and drew his sword, well aware it would avail them little in way of defence.

  “What are you waiting for, you bloody bastards?”

  “Give us the priest, and you can go.”

  “Fuck you.”

  A horse whinnied to his right and then to his left, other’s pawed the cobbles and snorted, but none approached. The mounts seemed overly edgy and their riders equally so. Something seemed to be keeping them at bay. James was not sure what that might be until a shout went up a short way across the Square of the Commoner. An instant later the rapid click of crossbows and the hiss of bolts cutting through the cool damp air erupted from the low stonewall that surrounded the cathedral. James instinctively ducked. All around them the horsemen cursed angrily as they were peppered with bolts. One horse screamed and went down, throwing its rider. The bolts that hit their intended targets were bursting into flames and then dissolving in embers and ash.

  The first volley was followed by a second and again bolts found their mark on both man and beast. In the eerie orange light of the dissolving bolts, James could see that the rider’s faces were etched in annoyance more than pain. That annoyance flared more still when a third wave of bolts hissed out of the darkness and embedded themselves in plate and mail and the flesh beneath. It was more than the horseman were willing to endure and after hurling a string of expletives at the men in the cathedral grounds they retreated to find easier game, galloping back towards the glow of the burning buildings in the nearby street.

  James stopped Father Portis from rising and called out to whoever was in the cathedral grounds to hold their fire.

  “Who goes there?” A gruff voice called out from the darkness.

  James recognised the man as the sergeant they had met at the Gate of the Saints. “A priest and a servant to the Arkaelyon Ambassador.”

  “You better hurry ya’ self then. Because those bloodthirsty pricks will be back again, you can bet on that.”

  James helped Father Portis up and made for the cathedral. The sergeant appeared out of the darkness, a crossbow slung over his shoulder. He looked past James and then said, “Is the Lady Galloway with you?”

  “No. She’s on her way to Brier’s Gate. As are we.” Truth be told, Faith’s absence had James dreading the worse.

  They passed under a stone arch with a statue of a pauper at its apex and into the churchyard. Two soldiers quickly closed and bolted the gate. More soldiers lined the stone wall, most busily reloading crossbows with bolts from a pile that two young boys were hurriedly dipping in a bucket of what James presumed was God’s water. Two of the sergeant’s men took Father Portis from James and moved quickly down the flagstone path to the front stairs of the towering cathedral.

  “Gods’ water I presume?” James said.

  “Aye. One of the lads thought of it. Them lot don’t like it much. It doesn’t kill em’ but it certainly pisses them off and keeps them at bay for a while.”

  “And sacred ground?” James asked.

  “They won’t enter it seems. Again, the same lad thought of it. His father’s a priest, reckoned it would work and it has; at least so far. Not that we had much choice. Lost most of my men getting here. You didn’t happen upon a company of soldiers? They were bringing some of the residents to the church from the way you just came.”

  “I’m sorry. But there are only dead and dying back there.”

  The sergeant nodded grimly as if to say he had feared as much.

  “I need a horse to get Father Portis and myself back to the palace.”

  The sergeant looked relieved by the request. “I take it the message we sent to the South Gate got through then?”

  They were at the foot of the stairs that led up to the front doors of the cathedral. Even from here James could see people huddled inside for protection, but it was the sergeant’s last statement that drew his attention.

  “Message?”

  “We found her. The Lady de Brie.”

  James swallowed hard, keeping in check the welter of emotions that rose up at the mention of Danielle.

  “We also caught her abductors, at least some of them. But this evil, whatever it is, over took us. Fourteen of our men were murdered by a … I don’t know how to explain it … a knife with no hand.”

  “What happened to the lady?”

  “They took her back and escaped.”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “Into a house a few blocks from here. They went to the cellar. The owner of the house saw them conjure something and then they simply walked through the wall and disappear into tunnels beneath the city. The owner of the house swears he saw the whole thing from where he and his wife were hiding in their cellar and says the lady’s abductors talked about catacombs beneath Amthenium? Can’t say I have ever heard of such a thing though.”

  Nor had James. “Tunne
ls beneath the city?” He knew who would know.

  Father Portis was sitting down on the cathedral steps, taking a drink from a water skin a soldier had offered him. James suspected the content was more likely wine from the way the man was drinking.

  “You know of this, Father? Are there catacombs below the city?”

  He lowered the skin and slowly nodded. “There are such tunnels. And it is possible they entered using a conjuring of some sort.”

  “And they can get off the island using these tunnels?” James’ heart was hammering in his chest and a sick feeling was welling up in his stomach.

  The priest looked up at him and nodded regretfully. “Yes. I’m afraid they can.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “He hasn’t told you, has he?” Keira said.

  Danielle kept her eyes closed. A short while ago they’d entered a large cavern, more of a cave than a tunnel, to find four men waiting for them. Three were mounted, leading enough saddled horses for all in company to ride, and the fourth was on the seat of a horse drawn cart, reins in hand, smoking a pipe.

  Danielle was now riding along in the back of the cart, her hands and feet bound. Lea was watching her from beside the driver, a crossbow resting in her lap, and a scowl on her face that said she would like very much for Danielle to try and escape.

  Though escape was hardly an option, at least not here. There was an evil in these catacombs that Danielle suspected was considerably more formidable than the combined might of those that held her captive. She had felt it grow ever more potent as they’d ridden along. Its source was a mystery to her, but it appeared she wasn’t alone in feeling or fearing it, for often the riders around her would glance back over their shoulders at the encroaching darkness or cast a guarded and lingering look at the yawning mouth of one of the many tunnels they passed. She had also watched as Keira periodically muttered words and felt the air tingle with the affect of magic. Finally there was the amount of taint that oozed from the walls and crevices in the broken rock around them. It was yellow and green in the flickering torchlight. She had never seen anything like it. The sheer volume was beyond comprehension. Whatever the evil that dwelt here it had to be unimaginably heinous and best avoided.

  The clatter of rocks made Danielle open her eyes and crane her neck.

  Keira followed Danielle’s gaze to the rock walls of the tunnel. A knowing expression touched her lips. “Do you know of Letius, God of the Sea, brother to Maig and her treacherous sister?”

  “I know who he is,” Danielle snapped.

  “What you don’t know, my dear, is that he made this place home after his failed rebellion.”

  Danielle knew the fable about the Letius’ rebellion. That he had been exiled here of all places, right beneath Amthenium, seemed more an attempt at cruel humor than historical accuracy. Not that she was particularly interested in furnishing a reply.

  “In truth, Maig would have been better served siding with her brother, rather than her sister, for once the White One had done away with Letius, she immediately turned on our goddess with equal fury. Her servants share their goddess’ nature, my dear. Treachery and ingratitude run thick in their blood. You might have learned from Lord Theadorius’ experience,” Keira said conversationally. She appeared to be reminiscing more than anything. “Like your Lord Cargius he was a guide of the enlightened way and father to the Lockheim and Kallson bloodlines. When both were extinguished by our dear Larnius, his colleagues on the Kathiusian Council, or what remained of it, disowned him and would have killed him had he not escaped. He wed himself to Letius’s service after that and for a time made war on both Kathiusian and Larniusian druid’s alike. The taint you see here is his work and a bane to both us and the Kathiusian in ways you can not understand.”

  “Or care to understand,” Danielle replied. She knew Keira was trying to placidate her so she might drop her guard enough to afford the woman access to her deepest thoughts; Bianca’s last name first among them. The witch had been probing her mind, seeking a way in, since they’d mounted up some time ago.

  Keira’s smile waned a little and she looked away from Danielle’s defiant glare. “You are most ungrateful. You should be relieved, you know?” Keira said.

  Danielle wasn’t sure why that would be.

  “By doing it this way, Cargius will be there when you cross over. He will lead your soul to the doors of Helhar, and I’m sure your gods will welcome you home. I’m sure you would prefer to spend eternity with your family, rather than suffer the endless horrors of Vellum’s darkest realm.”

  Danielle didn’t offer a reply. There was no way to know if the woman spoke the truth or not. The notion did ease her fears a little, though. However selfish it might be, to see her mother again and be free of all this would be quite a relief.

  “So why not give me her name. Hmmm? Because if you don’t, I can see to it that my knife opens your throat first, in which case, there will be no Cargius when you reach the other side and no guide in the After world to led you out of Vellum’s Hold.”

  Danielle could feel them all smirking at the fear that was no doubt blazing in her aura, but she was not about to give Bianca up. If death was going to take her this day, and she feared that was increasingly likely, then her sister might be the only person who could stand between Kane and the restoration of a Larniusian Empire.

  There was a short pause and then Keira said, “What if I promise you that I would give her the same merciful death that I’m offering you? One that will not condemn her soul and you could be together; share in the after life that which you did not have opportunity to share while you both lived.”

  Despite her predicament, Danielle let a little ironic smile cross her lips. Desperation belied the witch’s calm tone; she could sense it as plainly as she could feel the horses’ unease and the evil that haunted these tunnels.

  For a moment there was little except the clip of hooves, clatter of trace and hiss of the torches some of the men were carrying to light their way. She thought the witch had finally given up, at least until Keira said caustically, “I guess I could just take this ring out of my pocket and make you watch as I opened your beloved’s throat?”

  Danielle snorted, amused. She was feeling increasingly fatalistic. “And have him waiting at the pillars of Helhar for my arrival, for that I’d have to thank you.”

  Someone kicked their mount forward, and even as Danielle opened her eyes, a hand made a fist in her hair and dragged her off the back of the moving cart. Her wounded side screamed in protest and then stars exploded in front of her eyes as she hit the rocky ground and rolled to a stop. Hooves bit down around her as men quickly reined in their mounts and manoeuvred sharply to avoid trampling her. Keira was out of her saddle in a flash and Danielle barely had time to sit up before the witch began to kick her. Her companions moved quickly to restrain her, but she managed to get three good blows in before they pulled her away. One caught Danielle in the side. The pain was blinding and she lay there a moment, balanced precariously on the edge of unconsciousness. Arguing echoed around her head, and then kinder hands helped sit her up. It was Lord Mason who brushed the hair off her bloodied face.

  She would have spat at him if she had the strength. He looked her over, and put a waterskin to her mouth and made her drink a little to revive her. Then he picked her up and put her back on the cart. The pain was horrible and she curled up in a ball. She hoped Cargius had a way of getting them out of this, for she most certainly did not. She watched, grudgingly, as Keira brushed off Mr Bale and another man, and remounted her horse. The woman’s dark eyes blazed with fury as she ordered everyone back into the saddle. Then, as the company got underway at a fast trot, Keira rode up behind the cart. A sadistic smile had taken up residence on her face.

  “Just so you know. Your father … he’s dying. He has been poisoned. The tragedy is that not one of your skilled physicians knows it. They think it’s another mild bout of the disease of the lungs and nothing to worry about. Yet your dear C
argius, in whom you have put such trust and faith, knew otherwise when he visited your fiancé three days ago. He could have saved him, yet he said nothing. Your loyalty to him and his kind is misplaced, my dear. You should have looked to your own when you had the chance. And don’t think your defiance will stop us from finding a way to retrieve the book. Because we will have it back, with or without your sister.”

  Danielle swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t need to be thinking of her father right now. “I have told you, I will not give you a name.”

  “Please yourself then.”

  Danielle hid her face as Keira rode off least the others see her tears and grief at hearing this.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Faith spotted James and Father Portis in the crowd of frightened residents who had made it across Brier’s bridge before the gate was closed. It was difficult not to hear the conversations going on around her. What exactly was afoot was highly disputed except for two general points; the Arkaelyon Ambassador had been abducted and was believed to be somewhere in the Downs district, and some great evil had been released, presumably to cover her whereabouts. Why she had been abducted and by whom was provoking wild speculation, though none of the talk was as wild as the truth. Part of Faith envied them their ignorance.

  “James, James!”

  He turned. “Milady.”

  The relief on his face on spotting her riding towards him was obvious. He drew his horse up and waited for her to nudge her mount through the crowd and catch up. She had just sent a message via the gate’s guardhouse to her uncle. Unmolested by the Twenty Three she had taken the opportunity as she rode back towards the palace to round up as many residents of the Downs as she could, and mustered them up the Kings Way and in through Brier’s gate. When the guards stationed at the gate had said they had not seen Lady de Brie’s protector or a priest fitting father Portis’ description, she had grown increasingly worried. But, despite her concerns, the need to get to her uncle as soon as possible had her climbing back into her saddle. That was when she spotted them among a group of stragglers being let in through a porter’s door in the inner wall.