Maya started walking without waiting for a reply. Fayne walked with her, and for a second Gray watched them go, Maya in her muddied jeans and top, Fayne in his weathered, torn robes. He looked down, at how old and frayed his own clothes were. She was right, but they weren’t in any condition to fight. It was easy to forget this at times, but looking at something as simple as his weather-worn shoes served only to remind. He followed them, adjusting his violin case in a hurry.
It was a plain walk, uneventful. Gray was thirsty as the morning gave way to the day. ‘No water’, Fayne had said. Maya did not show any signs of fatigue, or hunger, or thirst, and ignoring a rumbling belly, Gray knew that right now she was the example he had to follow.
They walked for hours before the fortress came into sight.
A red fortress, shivering and blending in and out of the wind and the sunlight, high walls surrounding it, dark shapes patrolling the battlements. Out of the fortress emerged a tower, higher than any building they had seen in the Old City, a tower ripping its way up into the clouds. It was, like everything else, a dark red. Then they noticed it—the Convergence. Five highways, each coming from a different direction, joining at the fortress, having a dedicated gate on each side. There was something grand about the structure, something limitless about the desolation on every side that made it a spectacle worth remembering. Something to easily rival the grand MYTH Castle in New Kolkata.
‘No Demons so far,’ Maya said.
‘Ba’al expects us,’ Fayne replied.
They walked closer, hunger and thirst forgotten. The walls of the fortress, they saw, had runes inscribed upon them, plain and unpolished, radiating secret power. A giant metal gate. A loud creak. Gray was the only one who was taken by surprise as the gate swung open, seemingly on its own; Fayne and Maya walked without breaking stride.
The courtyard. The same red stones on the ground, all aligned neatly in their own grooves, perfect symmetry, echoing their footsteps.
A giant courtyard, and no one to be seen.
They walked up to the base of the tower and stood in silence, looking around. They circled it, a giant behemoth in a giant courtyard.
‘No door,’ Gray said.
‘Fayne?’ Maya asked.
Fayne was quiet as he looked up. ‘Magic,’ he said simply. ‘We are not stepping into the tower unless Ba’al wants us to.’
‘Oh, just bloody great,’ Gray mumbled.
‘Ba’al!’ Maya shouted without warning. ‘Demon Commander Ba’al!’ Her voice echoed in the courtyard.
‘Did he decide to take a bloody vacation? MYTH paid him off to go to Hawaii for a bit, soak up some sun maybe?’ Gray complained.
Maya shouted again. The banners along the battlements fluttered. Fayne studied the mark of the Free Demons once more, something he knew quite well. A Demon head against a broken pentacle.
‘Fatiya,’ Fayne said. ‘Do not shout. He watches us.’
‘He’s watching us?’ Gray looked around. ‘Adri is dead, and this guy is just watching?’
‘Is Adri Sen dead?’ a voice asked.
Maya and Gray had never heard such a voice before. It was small and dry but there was a rumble to it, an authority, like thunder among the clouds. The words had been spoken gently, in perfect calm, yet every syllable had been clear, and in all its clarity the owner of the voice held a sense of power, of promised retribution and death. It chilled Gray to the bone, this voice out of nowhere, and even Maya felt wary.
The Veil is rumoured to have been an ancient spell, one specific to places of old, places of magic, where the very skeleton holding it together is said to have breathed and lived on the mana ever-present in the air. As they stood at the bottom of the tower, the Veil came off, smoothly, on command. Maya, Gray and Fayne looked around with newfound eyes.
The courtyard was deserted no longer. Demons, scores of them, some patrolling the battlements, giant crossbows in hand, stomping from one ballista to the next, others, the worker Demons, hurrying about with books and rolled parchments and locked boxes. Doors and gates appeared. Gargoyles, perched on walls, leering. And the silence, the silence gave way to sound—loud footsteps, whispers and grunts and the hustle and bustle of a fortress ready for war.
In the middle of all this, right in front of them stood a Demon shorter than the rest, shorter than Maya. He wore red and black robes that swirled with the wind, robes that offered no protection. His face was distinctly un-Demon like, the structure almost human were it not for the dark red skin glowing gently and the small horns poking out of his forehead. He was bald, the only hair on his face a light beard, black. His ears were pointed and sharp, wooden earrings gripping them tightly; black tattoos swirled around his eyes, leading to either side, out of sight. The most striking, the most paralysing, however, were the eyes. Again, almost human, had it not been for the piercing carmine irises. He stood before them, this Demon, quietly, his hands folded behind his back, his feet bare, those eyes boring into them, waiting for a reply.
It took Maya and Gray a moment to realise who they were facing.
‘Ba’al,’ Fayne said gently. He bowed. Maya and Gray were startled. The Veil had been disorienting enough, and now Fayne was bowing. Ba’al looked at Fayne for a second, and then bowed back.
‘Alkhatamish,’ he said. ‘I have heard of you.’
‘I helped end your warrior Demon in Hazra,’ Fayne said.
Ba’al’s eyes flashed. ‘I am aware. And I assure you, we shall talk, but for the moment, there is something more pressing.’ He turned to Gray. ‘You did not answer my question, young one.’
Gray was wondering if he should bow. If Ba’al did not bow back, however, it would be an insult. But what if his not bowing was an insult in the first place? Demons were a weird lot. He didn’t remember Adri telling him anything about bowing. Fayne, curse him, had not said anything either.
‘Adri is, err, not exactly dead,’ Gray stammered.
‘Has his body burned?’ Ba’al asked.
Gray stared. ‘Yes.’
‘Do you have his soul?’
‘I do,’ Maya replied. She brought out what she had been holding tightly in her fist, the soul gem from the Araakh. Ba’al looked at the soul within, glowing, travelling the confines of the gem. Adri.
‘The Keeper,’ Ba’al said. ‘You have a long journey ahead of you, human. Rest tonight, eat, drink, regain what little strength you have. I wish to hear more.’
He swept past them into the tower. They stood, flabbergasted, and finally followed.
2
‘Tonight you are under my protection,’ Ba’al said. ‘Nothing touches you.’
The tower was huge, a fortress in itself. There were quarters, halls, and rooms on each floor. Torches burned everywhere, throwing a medieval soul into the heart of the tower. Then came the human skeletons, hanging inside cages, and tapestries which seemed to have been painted on skin—the grisly decoration served to remind Maya and Gray that it was a Demon that had made this tower his home. A narrow spiral staircase, cut out of stone, led upwards. Gray stopped counting floors after the twentieth. Maya wondered if it was magic, if the tower could go on forever.
Ba’al walked ahead of them. He was intelligent, but they were scared of him; something underneath that calm demeanour that spoke of why he was the leader of the Free Demons, why him and no one else. He showed them to their quarters himself; a spacious room with large windows and three beds, a bath chamber of granite and stone attached. He suggested they finish with their ablutions and meet him for a meal on the floor above, but Gray and Maya were famished—the climb hadn’t helped at all—and they chose, instead, to simply wash their faces and hands and go up to the dining hall.
It was huge, the dining hall, surrounded by tower windows. Sunlight gushed in onto a large circular table laden with food. Ba’al was already seated on one of the chairs and he gestured for them to join. Fayne was still downstairs. The minute they sat down, Gray attacked the food noisily; there was beef, chicken, pork,
and even dishes of vegetables and fruits. Gray ate indiscriminately; he was too hungry to care about anything. Maya, however, crossed her arms and looked at Ba’al.
‘Would you like to hear of what happened?’ she asked.
‘Eat first, human,’ Ba’al said.
‘The Apocalypse is more important than my lunch, Demon Commander,’ she said quietly.
Ba’al did not react. ‘I know when a human is tired, when a human needs food. I can smell weakness, human. It is a part of knowing your prey.’
‘Can you smell strength?’ Maya asked.
‘If you can manage to not faint from the lack of food, then by all means, tell me what happened,’ Ba’al replied.
Maya began recounting the events of the night. Inside, she grew weaker still, and not just from the hunger. The burning. It was not something she had been thinking about. She had armoured herself to not think of it, to move on and act, to take the next step. But as she recounted, starved, the aroma of food swirling around her, the infamous Ba’al listening silently to every word she uttered, she realised that she missed Adri Sen. She missed the serious Tantric, who, by now, would not only have chalked out a concrete plan, but would also know how exactly to deal with Ba’al. She looked down at the soul gem in her hand as she talked, at Adri. He was with her, he was not.
And then she was done.
‘Betrayed by a Fallen,’ Ba’al said, sitting against the light of the window behind him, his eyes glowing. ‘Adri Sen can see everything, yet he is so hopelessly blind.’
‘Aurcoe will die,’ Maya said. Gray stopped eating and looked at his sister.
‘I will rip the wings off that Angel,’ she continued, her face calm. ‘And I will send him across the River to meet his three brothers.’
‘You and what army?’ Gray muttered.
Ba’al, however, did not contradict Maya. ‘Things will not stay across the River for much longer if Victor Sen has his way,’ he said. ‘He is dirty, he is corruption itself. But he is powerful.’
‘Victor Sen will answer as well,’ Maya said. ‘But first I need to bring Adri back. You said you can protect us tonight. Will you protect us from the Horseman?’
‘The Horseman is a prisoner of his own rules,’ Ba’al said. ‘I cannot defeat him, but he has his weaknesses, ones you will have to exploit.’
‘Weaknesses?’ Gray asked, his mouth full.
‘Explain,’ Maya said.
‘Death can only find akshouthur, a marked soul, one it needs to break the seal. Death’s existence, hollow and broken as it is, is drawn to marked souls helplessly, instinctively. Adri Sen is akshouthur. You three are not.’
‘Are you saying Death can’t track us?’ Maya asked, eyes wide.
‘It will try,’ Ba’al said. ‘But it cannot find the imprint your souls leave. It will resort to other methods. It will ride the earth, raze the cities. It will unleash its messengers, its spies. And when it gets word of where you are, it will track you, kill you, and take the soul you carry.’ Ba’al paused. ‘Take the Ai’n Duisht, and wrap the chain around the soul gem. And you are invisible to the Horseman.’
Wordlessly Maya reached for the locket she wore, the Pentacle of the Crescent Moon, the artefact that had shielded Adri throughout their journey. She would do it right now. A weight had lifted. Something new had entered the room. Hope. Ba’al was quick to crush it.
‘The Ashil Heob, the Impenetrable Fortress, is quite the journey from here,’ he said. ‘It is where the seven seals reside. It is there that the Horseman shall try to break the last seal, although I daresay Death has not discovered the little switch as of yet. It will, soon. Then it will hunt you once more. And it will kill you.’
Maya looked into Ba’al’s eyes, those eyes with fire smouldering within. ‘Do you want us to die? Why feed us? Why protect us and help us at all? Whose side are you on, Demon Commander?’
‘Things are not that simple, human,’ Ba’al said, grim. ‘No amount of warning is enough. The journey you attempt, it is treacherous. I doubt you will make it to the Keeper alive, even if the Horseman does not find you. Both of you are untrained in the arts of war, and the alkhatamish, he alone is not enough to protect the both of you.’
‘You’re avoiding my question,’ Maya said.
‘Adri Sen is bound to me, as I to him,’ Ba’al said. ‘There are things we are connected to, and this bond we have, neither of us prefers it, but it is there, and thus I must ensure that Adri Sen lives. We are part of something greater, something that was in the mist, but now it is clear—we are a part of the impending Apocalypse.’
‘Why had you summoned him, when you had sent the Demon of Shadow to get him? Why?’
‘There is a Game,’ Ba’al replied. ‘A Game Adri Sen and I are bound to play.’ He did not say any more.
‘And what is this Game about?’ Maya asked guardedly.
Silence. The lightest of footsteps. Gray wouldn’t have heard them at all, but walking miles with Fayne had made him recognise the assassin’s stride. Fayne stood at the table, watching them—Gray, who was done with lunch, and Maya, who hadn’t touched her food.
‘Alkhatamish,’ Ba’al said. ‘I have arranged food for you as well. Drink.’
Fayne looked at the goblet waiting by a chair. He did not move.
‘It is fresh,’ Ba’al said further, ‘and treated in the ways of Ahzad.’
Fayne sat down, slowly, and rolled his mask up to his nose. Bringing the goblet up, he sniffed, then took a drink. Keeping the goblet back, he pulled his mask down and nodded at the Demon Commander. ‘My thanks,’ he said. ‘I am done.’
‘I have had more treated for you. You may fill up your flask on your way out tomorrow,’ Ba’al said.
‘You knew Zackhaal?’ Fayne asked.
‘Yes, I knew the Brewmaster. I was on your diet once, when I was younger, until I realised the strength of the body was not something I would depend on.’
‘You ignore the body and tend only to the mind?’
‘I do not ignore anything. I am familiar with the teachings of Ahzad, alkhatamish. I know the balance you maintain. I consider it flawed.’
‘We shall see.’
‘Indeed.’
Maya ate. The conversation was over. Ba’al sat looking at them, and while Gray shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Maya bit into things and drank things, things seeming exceedingly delicious and beyond explanation to her starved self. She ate vicious and quiet.
‘I trust the edibles were satisfactory,’ Ba’al said. ‘Your clothing is in bad shape, and I have sent clothes to your chambers. You shall dress yourselves in these for our evening meal and meeting, when I shall direct you as to where you might find the Keeper. Feel free to look around the fortress. Do not try to enter locked doors.’
He left. The three of them remained, looking at each other in silence.
‘Why did you bow?’ Gray asked Fayne. ‘And you,’ he addressed Maya. ‘How come you’re not familiar with matters of Demon etiquette? I was standing there for half a minute wondering if I should bow!’
‘Bowing is not a part of Demon etiquette,’ Maya snapped. ‘Are you really so thick-headed that you did not see what happened?’
‘What? What happened?!’ Gray exclaimed, clueless.
‘We bow before opponents of rivalling strength,’ Fayne said. ‘I challenged Ba’al to a fight.’
‘You what?’ Gray squealed.
‘I had to talk to you about that,’ Maya told Fayne. ‘You have accepted a charge, Fayne.’
‘And I intend to see it through, fatiya,’ Fayne said.
‘If you kill Ba’al, or worse, if he kills you—’ Maya started.
‘It is doubtful. I think you should see it as more of a spar. I killed his Demon. And now I’m here, under his protection. It does not stand right. My code demands he be given a chance to avenge the death of his soldier.’
‘Assassins have no code,’ Maya said coldly.
‘I did not say that they do,’ Fayne said. ‘It is my
code.’
When they went back to their chamber, they found fresh garments kept ready for them. Everyone bathed, even Fayne, and Gray had a vision of Fayne in a bathtub wearing nothing but the mask. He dismissed the thought immediately, but the old question of what was behind the mask came back. The reemergence of this question, though trivial, helped Gray realise that he was better, that he was ready to push forward, that he was beginning to look at the smaller things, the details once more, that his mind was working the same way again. Of course there was no Adri to answer his questions, but weren’t they journeying to return Adri to his body? Gray hummed a small tune as he bathed. He would have liked to have a go at his violin, but now that he knew what the instrument actually was, he dared not. Ba’al would probably kill him if Revenant came knocking.
Maya stood in the bath chamber alone, examining the robes left for her. Various shades of red and red only, all the garments were similar—a gown merged with a military coat, with small Demon horns built into the stitch around the shoulders, like epaulettes, and pants that went with each suit. The material was soft on the inside, tough and leathery on the outside—these were tailored, clearly, for comfortable indoor wear, as well as dusty journeys and rainstorms. Interesting. They looked beautiful, regal. She chose maroon. The garment fit her perfectly. Maya looked at herself in a mirror in the room, at who she had been. She had never been someone concerned with beauty, with maintaining her physical self. She did not visit hair spas and beauty salons in New Kolkata, she was a Demonology student, for heaven’s sake! And yet, she admitted to herself with the smallest of smirks, she hadn’t turned out too bad. Screw the other girls.
A momentary moment, and she was off, walking down the tower staircase, testing the stretch and feel of the fabric she wore. It felt good, especially after the rags she had been wearing. Clean clothes. She sniffed at her sleeve. It may not be a big deal compared to all the dangers she was about to face, but she’d rather die comfortable. She allowed herself a grin this time, and headed out into the courtyard. The Demons ignored her; she supposed they had been ordered to. The war machine chugged on. Somewhere outside the main gates, troops were marching off, doubtlessly heading for the Lake of Fire. She looked around, and stepped aside just in time as a huge warrior Demon lumbered past her with an armload of swords. She wondered which way she should consider walking, when a voice greeted her.
Horsemen of Old Page 2
